Welcome to the Dark Side

Mark Callaway and Chace Crawford - Clean up Aisle Nine

Mon, 17 Aug 2009 02:34:56 GMT

[Backdated to August 9th]

WARNINGS: Beastiality, sensory deprivation, con non-con, public play, vomit (non-sexual), cages, mention of unusually shaped dildos, blowjob, mild breathplay

Clean up Aisle Nine

Mark Callaway and Chace Crawford- It begins

Sat, 15 Aug 2009 03:14:27 GMT

(backdated to Sat Aug 8th)

(Warning: Slight non-con, enema, and canine rimming and fellatio.)

And that the only reason the door is open is so he can come in and out without getting grease on the glass. And that the ringer volume on his phone is turned up cause when you work for Vince McMahon, you never know when he's going to call and for what.

That's what he tells himself and it makes him uncomfortable.

It's not like him to lie to himself.

When the call finally does come, he lets it ring twice before answering. And the words are what he's been waiting on.

"I've just landed."

"Good, wait outside by the curb. I'll be there to get you."

It's his best time getting to the airport so far. He drives slow along the outer edge of the airport, for once not cursing at stopped cars in front of him which give him longer chances to look. And then, he sees him.

He cuts off two cars to stop right in front of the boy. The window lowers halfway, door unlocking. "In now."

Security stares at Chace as he paces, the thoughts in his head running a mile a minute as he waits for Mark. He smiles at the guy, nods, and prays that he's just left alone until Mark arrives. Suddenly he sees the truck and, stepping to the curb, nods as the window comes down. His bag and duffel go in the back and he crawls inside. "Hello Sir."

Not answering, Mark closes the window and locks the door, hitting the button to keep the passenger from being able to open it again. Waiting for the first break in the traffic, he speeds out of the airport and down the road til he hits a side street. Staring out through the windshield, he turns off the truck. "Everything done? Papers, money, everything?"

Chace never says a word until the truck stops, mostly because his throat is as tight as an over-stretched bungee cord. "Y...yes Sir, checking and savings are closed out, all my paperwork's in the duffel in the back." He pauses as sits there in silence for a moment. "Everything 's sold or donated 'cept for one shirt that I brought to change in if I needed to."

"You won't." From the side of the seat, Mark pulls out a long knife. Hand lashing out to grab the boy by his throat, he turns as much as possible towards him. A wide smile on his face, he brings the knife around and cuts the clothes off the boy. From under the seat come the four cuffs and a ball gag. In short order the boy is bound and gagged, the cuffs locked to each other. The last is a long bit of leather, wound snug around his cock and balls and around his neck, forcing him to be almost doubled over. Turning the truck back on, Mark drives them to the house.

The sight of the knife produces a sound from Chace that resembles a rabbit caught in a trap but he knows one thing, at least for now; Mark just paid for him there's no way the man would kill him. Oh please let that be right. The removal of his clothes is rough at best but he sits there, trying not to move or squirm as the cuffs and gag are put in place. "Nghh!" Chace cries out behind the gag as his cock and balls are tied up, the strap attached to his neck to force him forward. Chace never looks up as they drive, but he knows where they're going - the place he'll forever call home.

Grabbing the bags from the bed, he sets them on the seat and goes through each. Gathering the papers and money together, he disappears into the house. Locking the important stuff in his safe, he throws the bags in the back of a hall closet that locks. He stands in the middle of the main room, a mental checklist being ticked off line by line.

The quiet in the truck is nearly deafening as Chace waits. It's more than strange to be there but, as much as the nerves seem to ravage his stomach, his mind is completely at ease. He's waited years for this, to be owned by someone exactly like Mark, and he knows he'll do his best to please the man.

Satisfied, he returns to the truck and opens the door. "Well, boy. Here we are. You ready?" Mark takes in the sight. The boy bound and gagged. Bought and paid for. Mine.

He tries to imagine what Mark's doing inside, what waits for him when he steps through the front door, but those thoughts scare the fuck out of him and cause the leather on his cock to tighten. Jumping as the door opens, Chace turns his head enough to see Mark then nods.

"Good." Mark unfastens the cuffs, carrying them as he walks to the house. "Come on. Hands behind your back. Close the doors behind you. Don't worry about crawling, I'm anxious to get this done with so we can move to the more important things."

As Chace scoots from the truck, he pushes the door closed then places his hands behind his back. Walking bent over, hands as they are, is difficult but he doesn't complain - knows doing so wouldn't do any good any way. Chace enters the house, pushing the door closed behind him, then makes his way toward the sound of running water.

Mark waits in the bathroom for the boy, adjusting the water temperature. Getting it just hot enough, he pulls the knife from out of nowhere and cuts the leather thong. "Get that off and wash yourself. Everywhere. Jack off." He smiles. "It's going to be the last orgasm you have that's yours. Everything is mine now." Half sitting on the counter, Mark leans against the wall to watch.

Blue eyes widen as he sees the knife once again. Fuck, does he have 'em everywhere? When the strap is cut, he stands and his eyes move to Mark's face as he nods to the instructions. He doesn't see coming as a problem since he's been hard since they left the airport. Stepping into the shower as he tosses the leather strips in the floor, Chace begins to scrub his body, working methodically from head to toe as he keeps his eyes on Mark. With soapy hands, he begins to stroke himself.

Mark's eyes half close as he watches the boy, looking over each inch of his new possession. His hand rubs against his cock as the ideas run through his mind. So much to do. And so careful they have to be done. First is cleaning the outside world from the boy. He smiles. Inside and out. He glances at a small box on shelf, waiting.

Chace sinks against the shower wall, his eyes falling closed as his cock throbs in his hand. He has no doubt in his mind that Mark means every word of it being his last one of his own free will and it's that very thought that pushes him over the edge. "Unghhfuck!" Hips jerk forward as the stream of come shoots out then, caught by the shower spray, mixes with the water to swirl down the drain. As the last spasms of the climax leave him, Chace opens his eyes, panting as he looks to Mark.

Mark moves, not giving the boy a chance to recover. Cuffs are back on his wrists and his arms are yanked up and looped over a small hook hanging from the ceiling. Then a spreader bar is pulled from behind the toilet, attached a second later to the cuffs back on his ankles. Eyes on the boy, Mark reaches for the box, pulling out the enema hose. Turning the water off, he attaches one end to the faucet. A steady push takes the other end of the hose deep into the boy's ass. Then the water comes back on. "Now, I know you probably already this before you came. But just doing it to my satisfaction, you understand."

Twice the boy is filled and emptied before Mark turns the water off. "Now you're clean. All ready for me." He releases the boy from the cuffs and throws a towel at him. "Dry off and meet me in the living room. Make sure you're not dripping anything on my carpet."

Enemas are a common thing with boys at Citadel, but there they have their own way usually, they cleanse before a scene or even after to remove the lube from an over-anxious dom, but this is different. Chace cries out, squirming as the hose breeches his muscle and Mark pushes it up inside him. It still baffles him that a man Mark's size can move as he can and Chace struggles with the spreader bar as the water pushes into his bowels. "Mmmph!" His eyes stay on Mark the entire time - through all the cramps and humiliation of being watched as his body empties from both fillings.

Rubbing at his wrists as he's finally released, Chace catches the towel and rubs the tears from his face, drying around the gag in his mouth. Sinking back against the shower wall, Chace stares up at the place his hands were bound then, wondering how often he'll be in that position, begins to dry before heading into the living room.

Mark sits on the couch and waits for the boy. When he comes he points to the floor by his feet. "Take the gag off. Now is when we talk about the rules and your rights. The rules are, whatever I say you do. Your rights are, you have none unless I say. Just stating it out, even though we both know this. You agree?"

Chace kneels down by Mark's feet and looks up. He knew this moment would come - had honestly looked forward to it - but looking up to Mark now he can't stop his heart from slamming against the walls of his chest. "Yes Sir, you'd made that clear before I agreed to be yours." He works his jaw as the muscles move then hands the gag over to Mark.

Mark takes the gag, tossing it onto an end table. He points to a box by the TV. "In there is a set of cuffs, those are what you're going to wear around here. The cut off shorts are only for when I have company or some places we'll be going. You'll be bare assed the rest of the time, even outside. No one is around for miles. I got some clothes around for when you have to be in public. In the next day or so I'll drive to this store I know. That's where we'll get your chastity belt. I didn't want to try and guess the size. Any questions?"

"Naked," he says softly as his brain mulls over the thought. Twenty-four hours a day - naked - around Mark. It sounds like utter heaven until the final words sink in and Chace's eyes widen. "Chastity belt, Sir? I'm goin to wear a chastity...I wouldn't touch myself, Sir. Honest." He's worn them during scenes before, but the look on Mark's face tell him this one would be for more than a scene. "May I see the clothes? The ones I'll wear out?"

"No." The look on Mark's face says he's surprised the boy even asked to. "And can you be honest and say that during the course of a week, a day, especially when you're not around me that your hand is never going to brush up against your cock? And it's as much a warning to others." He smiles. "I'm making sure everyone can see that you are locked and I have the key."

The word 'no' settles that and Chace puts the idea out of his mind, figuring when Mark's ready for him to, he'll show them to Chace. "No Sir, I can't say that it wouldn't brush against it with going to the bathroom or sleeping or whatever." Mark's next words shake Chace from his thoughts as a feeling of pride fills him. "I understand Sir. Sorta like the idea of your having the key that way."

"Well, I'm so glad you approved. Thank you for that." Mark throws the gag back at the boy. "Put it on."

Chace blinks as the gag is tossed back to him. He hadn't been that talkative, had he? Slowly fastening the clasp behind his head, he works his jaw against the ball then places his hands in his lap, his eyes going back to Mark's face.

"Hands behind your back, on your knees! Spread those legs! Wider! Now stay there and don't move." Marks gets up and opens the sliding door. Whistling for the dogs, he points to the boy. "Look."

The dogs follow their master's command and start sniffing at the boy. Cold noses press everywhere as they learn his scent, a lick now and then for good measure.

"In this house, right now, you're worth less than these dogs. They've proven that they'll do what I say. Until you do as well, you don't get treated as well as they do. They're allowed on the furniture, you're not. You're not to lay a hand on them unless I say. You'll clean up after them too. Understand?"

With his legs nearly painfully spread and his hands behind his back, Chace's entire body tenses as he hears Mark call for the dogs - dogs he remembers from the first time here - and his blood seems to freeze as his eyes close. If he doesn't look, maybe they'll just go away.

The animals don't go away, however, noses and tongues seem to poke and prod at every spot of his body. Please, please, please no! Fuck! As a cold nose presses against his ass, Chace's mind spins as his cock pulses. NO! Nodding to the questions and comments from Mark, Chace turns his head to look up into the man's face, panting out around the gag in his mouth. "Mhmmm!"

"Don't worry, they won't bite. And I keep their nails trimmed, so they don't scratch much either. I'm told, they can be almost gentle during. Out!" He lets them out and closes the door. He sits back on the couch, his hands under his head and his legs stretched out. "Now, we'll try again. Take off the gag."

During? During what?! Chace knows boys that work for Citadel that have been with animals of different kinds; he is not one of those boys, but can't help wondering if Mark means to change all that. As the dogs leave the room, Chace lets out a muffled sob as his shoulders drop. Closing his eyes for a moment, he reaches up to undo the clasp then looks up to Mark. "Sorry Sir," he murmurs.

"Make it up to me. Show me." Mark unfastens his belt and undoes his jeans, his hands going back behind his head. "No hands. In fact," he smiles, "put your hands on your thighs, right next to that cock that you're not going to be touching. Right up against it. This is going to be one of our regular things."

Chace watches as a hunger begins to burn in his belly and his lashes flutter as blue eyes try to slip closed. This - right here - this is what he's wanted for as long as he can remember and Mark is making it happen. "Yes M...Sir, yes Sir, thank you for the chance." Moving forward on his hands and knees, Chace stops nearly against Mark's crotch, puts his hands on his thighs - palms just to the side of, but not touching, his cock - then leans forward. Taking the head into his mouth, Chace lets out a low, deep moan as his eyes finally do close.

Mark grabs the boy by his hair and jerks his head up. "What did you almost say? Not Sir. What was it?" His voice comes out as a growl, but it's hiding a smile. He tightens his hold, making the boy kneel up. "What did you say?"

"Nghhaa!" Chace kneels up as he follows the pull of his hair, his eyes closing as he begins to plan the apology. "Sir, I'm sorry, it was a slip. It just...you didn't say but it was..." He takes a deep breath. "Master," he breathes out.

Mark glares at the boy, keeping his gaze steady. "Master goes better with the owning your ass then Sir does. You can call me that. Now get back to work." He pushes the boy back toward his cock, a half smile sliding across his face.

No punishment? Chace was sure there'd be repercussion from the slip and, had that happened at Citadel, there would have been, but Mark seems to not only not be ready to punish him, he seems to be pleased. "Thank you," Chace whispers against the thick head of the man's cock before taking it down, relaxing his throat and letting it slip back in one fluid motion.

Mark's head falls back, his hand gripping and relaxing its hold on the boy's hair. He slides down a little more on the couch, his breath catching in his throat. He smiles as his eyes close. Yes, very good decision. His hips thrust forward, forcing his cock in deeper.

Chace gags around the thickness of Mark's cock, regains control of his reflexes then kneels up just enough to gain better positioning against Mark's length. In no time, Chace is lost, the sounds of Mark and the hum of his own body settle into him and there's nothing that exists outside of the man who now owns him and making sure he pleases him. As his head begins to move, taking Mark into his throat with every downward motion, his hands never stray from their spot on his thighs.

"That's it. Perfect, boy." Mark studies the boy as best he can. His hand has gone from grabbing to running its way through the boy's hair. He moves just enough to see that his hands are where they should be. After awhile he pulls the boy away with a groan. "Put the cuffs on. And bring the book that's in the box too. " He licks at his lips, getting himself back in control.

The change in movement of Mark's hand settles Chace even more and he wonders how close the man is to coming; that question is answered as he's pulled free, his own eyes half-lidded as he blinks against the sudden light. "Of course, Master," he says then, pushing to stand and swaying a bit, he moves to the box. After a short fight with his own fingers, he gets the thing open, retrieves the cuffs and the book then returns, kneeling back down in front of Mark. Handing the book over, he begins to fasten the cuffs.

Mark watches the boy put on all four cuffs, glad to see how tight they're being put on. When the boy's eyes are back on him, he holds the book out. "This journal is yours. You're going to write in it. Everything you're thinking, feeling, wishing. Everything. And I'm going to read it. This is going to be your way of telling me what you can't say to my face."

The cuffs are snug, but not enough so to get in the way of circulation and, as he reaches for the book, he rotates his wrists to get a feel for the material and weight. "A journal? Does it matter how often?" He takes the book and flips through the pages. It's easy to tell from the binding and the quality of paper that it's not any chain-store quality book. Without lifting his eyes from the book, Chace takes a breath. "What if I write something you don't like, will it get me punished?"

"I don't need my ego watched out for. Look at me." He waits for the boy's eyes to meet his. "I punish for disobedience. I've ordered you to write in this journal. Everything and anything. Somethings we'll talk about, some we'll work on or change. Some you'll just have to live with. Understand?"

Chace wraps his arms around the journal in a protective fashion as he listens to Mark, nodding up to him. "Yes Master, understood. Thank you for this." He knows since the moment he agreed to belong to Mark, his mind has been has been a whirl of thought, maybe the journal will help him out as well. "Is there a certain place I need to keep it?"

"I'm giving you one of the rooms for yourself. You can keep it in the bedside table. I already took the doors off the room and the bathroom. It's next door to mine at the end of the hall. You can go put it away, even write in it now if you want. There's a pen on the table. Go and come back when you're done."

Looking toward the hallway and where his room is to be, Chace nods as he looks back to Mark. "Is it okay if I wait a bit, Master? Brain's too wound up to really get a coherent thought from it. Really don't want the first thought in it to sound like I'm drunk." He chuckles softly as he pushes to stand then makes his way to the room with no door, sliding the book to the table then, running his fingers across the cover, he turns and returns to his spot at Mark's feet.

Mark just nods at the boy. Right now there's a million things going through his head. And there's still the question of what to do when he goes on the road. He doesn't want to leave the boy alone so soon. "You'll be coming with me next week. I have two shows I have to do. Might as well show you how this is going to be." He thinks for a moment. "You can keep calling me Master. You'll be surprised how many won't think that's unusual with regards to me. Have you seen what I do for a living?"

"I had no clue who you were the first night, but after the second time, I...well, I Googled you," he says with a sheepish grin. "Never really followed wrestling. Football some, but..." Chace pauses as he recalls some of the photos he found online. "Do you still dress like that when you go out? The black coat and hat and all?" Oddly enough, Chace is more nervous about actually seeing Mark in that getup than what their first scene will be.

"That's been my costume most of the time, different variations but pretty much the same. There was a spell when I was wearing more my own clothes, coming in on a motorcycle. And of course the Ministry days I dressed different. I wasn't sure the fans would accept me going back to the coat. But they did. Loved it actually. You want to see them? I gotta pack them up anyway. That's when you know you're big in the business, when they trust you with your ring gear." Mark gets up and walks to a closet by the front door. He pulls out a long coat in a dry cleaner's bag and a hat in a plastic bag.

Turning to follow Mark with his eyes, Chace moves forward on the floor, crawling toward Mark as the man pulls a coat from a bag. Chace knows Mark isn't small by any means, but the coat looks like it would literally wrap around Chace once, maybe twice, completely. Blinking up at the outfit, Chace nods as a slow grin comes to his face. "Can see why they'd like it. Definitely has a wicked look about it, even the coat alone I think." He recalls the images he'd found on the net - they were nothing compared to the man that now seems a good foot taller than he did before. "And that's what you'll be in next week?"

Mark nods. "I might have a couple of promos to film before the match, they never tell you til you get there. I'm not really in a feud with anyone right now, so don't know who I'll be fighting for sure. And you're going to have learn the difference between me now and how I am when I wear this. Especially the hat. It's the last thing that gets put on and taken off. When I put it on, I am the Undertaker. And he's a little different than me."

Chace inches closer, the man and the items almost drawing him in, and his eyes move up that much more. "The difference? So, the whole thing with how you were in the videos I found online, that wasn't staged or set up. Practiced?" He wonders for a moment if it's something like when someone sinks into subspace or domspace for that matter. "Is it...safe to talk to you then?"

"You've heard of method acting? Think of it like that, pretty much is. All of us get into a different mindset when it's time. That's why the best gimmicks have a lot of the wrestler's real personality in them, exaggerated but there. Paul did fine when Triple H was the Blue Blood, but when D-X started and he and Shawn showed what nut bastards they are was when things really hit for them. Vince invented the Undertaker, but he let me run with it. As for is it safe...right before I go out to the ring, no. I have to concentrate on what's going to happen out there. During the day, we'll all pretty much ourselves when the camera's not on. We also use our ring names in public. So you won't hear anyone calling out my name in the halls." He tilts his head. "You want to see Taker?" He takes the hat out and sets it on top of the plastic bag.

Nodding as if the names that Mark rattles of mean something to him, Chace makes a mental note to Google everyone. The last thing he needs is to embarrass Mark in any way in front of these people. "So it's a little like their own personalities only revved up. And...I'll remember that on the before thing. I know what it's like to have to center before a scene, seems the same thing in some ways." And then Mark asks the question that Chace really has no clue how to answer. He knows he's here for good and, in that, he's going to have to see the side of Mark that the man refers to as 'Taker'. Even sounds fucking scary as hell. "If you'd like, Master. Might be less of a shock later." Oh fuck, yeah, you just said yes. Dumbass. His only thought - at least he doesn't have to piss.

"When Taker first came out, he didn't talk much. He didn't do a lot of the shouting in the ring and making noises, still doesn't. He does his job and goes. Time went on, he talked more. And got even scarier. The pants and shirt I usually wear are already packed." Setting the hat down, he takes the coat off the hanger and puts it on. In an instant his body somehow becomes more still. His arm is slow as it reaches for the hat. There's a long breath, then he bows his head as he puts on the hat. When he looks down at the boy, his eyes are colder. "Boy." The voice is darker, more deliberate. His accent has disappeared as well.

Out of the videos he watched online, that's one thing Chace remembers - the lack of a lot of the grandeur that the other wrestlers seemed to be fond of, there wasn't a lot of 'blow' as it's said. It's almost methodical in the way Mark puts the coat on, and Chace swears he can feel the electrical current around the man spread out to encompass the entire room. "That's what I saw in the vids," he says, though his voice isn't much more than a whisper. Though he's not aware of it, his breathing stops as Mark reaches for the hat and Chace hears the breath, unsure if it was Mark's or his own. Chace hears the word 'boy' said in a way that prickles his skin - sees that look from eyes that causes his own pulse to pound in his ears - and he realizes he may not have needed to piss then, but he really does now.

The eyes seem to bore into the boy as a hand reaches down and grabs him by the neck, pulling him to his feet. There is nothing hurried about his movements, they are inevitable. "So you belong to him. And you know enough not to call his name out loud, don't you boy?"

Chace follows the pull - it's not as if he has a choice in the matter - his eyes never leaving the man in front of him. Him?! Fucking hell. Right now, at the moment, he doesn't even remember his own name, so not uttering the name of the man whose hand is wrapped completely around his throat is not a problem. Blue eyes wide, Chace simply nods.

"Good." A slow smile spreads across the face staring into the boy's. "The private side stays private. The public doesn't see Mark when I'm around, and they shouldn't. He doesn't belong to them like I do. So I might ignore you, boy, when we're out there." The head bows again as the free hand comes up to take the hat off. "But remember your Master is still in there." Mark's eyes look back at his boy as he lets him go to slip out of the coat.

If this is the 'Taker', as Mark calls him, without the whole outfit on, Chace thinks that perhaps at the shows, he'll just hide in the closet somewhere - maybe under the dressing room would work better. As the words leave the man who has his throat, all he can really do is give a half nod and pray that's sufficient. Ignoring 's good, yes. As he watches the hat leave Mark's head, and his feet return to the floor, Chace nods. "Yes Master. I'll remember."

Mark doesn't answer til he's wrapped the coat and hat back in plastic and put them in a garment bag. He smiles as he turns to his boy, hand resting on his cheek. "I half expected to find you trying to leave after that. Won't be the first to wonder about my mental state."

Chace finds himself unable to move as he watches Mark - he hopes - returns the garments to their place. As the man turns and a hand comes to cup Chace's cheek, he gives a soft exhale of breath. If they'd wonder about Mark's mental state, they'd surely think Chace is nuts since he's harder now than he's been in the five days since he's seen Mark. "Wouldn't leave Master, and have no doubts on your mental state, but...I really need to piss, please."

A blink, then Mark laughs so hard he has to nod to give his boy permission to leave. He falls against the wall holding his sides as he fights to breathe. Double checking that the tags are on the garment bag, he hangs it on the outside of the closet door and goes back to the living room. He's still chuckling as he sits down and waits on the boy.

The moment Chace catches sight of the nod, he's gone. No, Mark has no reason to worry about him touching himself since his hands are just barely steady enough to hold on while he pisses. With one hand against the wall, one hand holding his cock and as pure will keeps him standing, Chace finishes the job. "Fucking hell," he finally whispers out as he washes his hands then returns to Mark, sinking down at the man's feet. His cheeks color brilliant red as he realizes why Mark's still chuckling. "You do that to people often, Master?"

"Well, I've had people tell me seeing Taker made them want to, but never saw them actually have to before." He smiles at his boy. "So I guess it was a good idea you saw him here instead of at the arena first. You okay?"

"I can see how it would, and definitely it was, Master," he says with a slight grin and an ever deepening blush, "a very good idea that I saw that here first. Thinking passing out at the arena wouldn't be a good thing." Chace chuckles lightly then nods. "Yeah, I'm okay." His eyes focus on Mark for a moment. "Is it hard doing that? Sinking into that mindset? For a boy, sometimes coming out of headspace is scary and exhaustin'. That the same?"

"It used to be, when I first started. I was doing more shows back then too, working my way up. Now, it's kinda like a light switch. I turn Taker on, it just rushes over me, just like the dark. Come back to me, it's like the light's been thrown on. You're dazed for a second, then it's fine. After almost nineteen years, I'm a little surprised myself how easy it is." He shrugs. "I'll admit there are days when he lingers around a bit longer. That's why you have your own room. Days when it's best I'm alone. The things inside me that make Taker work so well were there long before he came around. That darkness has found a way to grow a little more through him."

Sitting there, listening to Mark talk about 'times best left alone' and 'the darkness inside' has Chace shifting in his spot and wondering if maybe there shouldn't be a sign on the man's door that says 'Enter At Own Risk' or something of the sorts. "So it - he - settled in you and fits because some of it was already there?" Chace can't help but wonder if maybe that's why he's looked to be owned for so long - maybe there's a little 'dark' in himself. "Your eyes even changed. It all changed," he says as he motions to Mark's body. "Would you ever sink into him, use that darkness, in a scene?"

"Do you want him? I haven't, not really. The closest was during the Ministry days, there was a segment where I had to whip one of the members while he was holding on to a ladder and two others were holding his legs down. Usually I hire a boy the same as everyone else, release the stress of the job. I don't know how he'd be during a scene. Colder for sure, he usually is."

His mind flashes to the eyes that had just looked down on him and the voice that, quite literally, scared the piss outta him, and Chace really isn't sure if he's ready to see those eyes - hear that voice - from the one wielding a singletail behind him. "M...might need to think on that one, Master. Not something I'd ask you to do unless you were sure of it anyway." Chace thinks Mark is entirely wicked enough on his own - at least for the time being.

Mark shrugs. "We'll leave it for later. I'll think about it now." His hand falls on the boy's head, running through his hair like he was one of the dogs. "When we're at the arena and I'm busy with work, you don't have to ask to go to the restroom. But all other times-the plane, hotel, driving, you ask me. You're going to ask me to eat, to go to bed, to shower, even to brush your teeth. You don't make decisions without asking me first."

Chace had known that Mark's control would surely take over things beyond just whether he could climax or not but the last thing he's envisioned is bathroom control. "Ask you to go to the bathroom, Master?" He nods a bit hesitantly. "What about getting a drink? What if I forget to ask you? I mean, 'm not planning on it, but what happens if?" Even with the training through Citadel, bathroom control isn't something that's readily covered in the manuals. And food? Oh, Chace knows he's a nibbler - this could be bad.

"If you forget to ask, then you don't get it. Simple as that. You ask me for everything. You'll have to earn the right to do things on your own. Understand? Like I said, at the arena I'll have to give you some leeway just because I'm not going to be able to watch you as much. But other than that, everywhere else, you have to ask."

Bad, bad, bad, there's just no other way to put it. He thinks he can do the whole bathroom thing, but the food is definitely going to get him into deep shit. "Yes Master. I'll...do my best to remember. The food thing may be hard for me though." Chace shifts just the slightest but keeps his eyes on Mark. Those same eyes suddenly go wide. "Don't get it? Master, how does someone not get the bathroom?"

Mark raises an eyebrow. "Do I really have to answer that or can you figure it out on your own? And how is the food thing going to be hard for you?"

Chace starts to ask for the man to explain the bathroom thing then decides against it. Honestly, he really doesn't want to know, he'll just pray he doesn't forget. "I'm used to nibbling through the day, Master. Between sessions at Citadel or even at home. Just easier to nibble here and there - pass by the fridge, grab a carrot."

"That stops. After a bit I'll set some food aside that you can eat, but just that and when it's gone that's all you get that day til dinner. Unless we're at the arena." Mark frowns. "I'm not liking how much you won't be supervised at the arena. I might have to see about getting someone to watch you. Someone I trust. Not that I like that much better, but..."

Chace nods slowly as Mark speaks. He knows there's no sense in protesting the rules Mark's laying out for him, he knows they won't change. And even as much as they scare him to death, there's a very real part of him that's more than glad they won't. "Master, I wouldn't do anything to embarrass you there, honest. That'd be the very last place I'd act up. That's your job, I would never cause trouble there. Couldn't I just stay in the room if you have one?"

"Yeah, that might have to be the way we go. " He sighs. "Lock you in the room with whatever I decide and leave you there til I get back. I'll have to find a way to lock the bathroom door." He muses out loud, hiding his smile. "I'll call you when it's time to pick me up after the show."

There's one phrase in there that gets Chace's attention. "L...lock the bathroom, Master? But you couldn't give permission if you weren't here and..." Oh, he really doesn't want to think of the possible outcome from that. "I'd be picking you up, Master?"

"Sometimes it's easier to just jump in the car and take off than to try and drive out. Depends on how the day went, sometimes you don't want to talk to the fans. Usually depending on how much I'm hurting afterward. We'll find out soon enough. Be heading out in next day or two. Might have to get the belt tomorrow, not sure."

"Oh, I don't mind picking you up at all, but..." Chace fidgets a bit, unsure if it's the idea of seeing Mark in pain or the whole 'get the belt tomorrow' thing that has his stomach knotting. "You took my license, Master. I mean, it was in the one bag." His eyes lower as he speaks, though he's not really sure why. "If we pick up oils or lotions, I can do the massage after a show."

"Yeah, I'm going to have to give it to you. Damn. I'll figure something out. And a massage would be great. So, why don't you tell me what you're thinking on right now?"

"A little scared, not really of you, well...except for maybe in that whole coat and hat thing, but of the changes. I knew it'd happen, want it to happen, just nervous about it. I've never worn a chastity belt for more than a couple hours." Chace hasn't asked, but he knows from the sound of Mark's voice, the man's thinking a lot longer than two hours.

"There's no reason for a Citdel boy to wear one longer than that. And it won't be forever. Just til the idea sinks in that you belong to me. In every way. You want this, but you've never had it before. This is something that isn't going to be easy and you'll probably fight me on things. This is one thing you won't have under your control, so there's no way for you to do something wrong and be punished for it. One less thing to worry about."

Chace likes the way Mark explains things, it makes it seem more preventative and helpful than scary. "One less seems like a good thing, Master," he says with a slight grin, "cause it sounds like the rest will be enough." Chancing it, he moves just a bit closer, eyes on Mark's face to gauge if it's the wrong thing to do. "I do want this, now and where you take me in it, I do want it."

"It's going to be hard. For both of us in different ways." Mark puts his hand under the boy's chin. "But we'll get through it. I don't like losing things. I'm not losing you now that I have you." He smiles as he leans forward. "Beyond death boy, you're mine." he kisses the boy hard, grip tight on his neck.

There's a choked whimper leaves his throat as Mark's hand grips tight but he doesn't pull away, the thought not even in the back of his mind. Those words, however, 'beyond death' seem to fill every nook and cranny there is inside him. Chace leans up just barely, just enough into the kiss to let Mark's tongue settle deeper into his mouth.

Mark's arm comes around as he moves his legs apart, pulling the boy tighter against him. He deepens the kiss, tongue moving over every inch of the boy's mouth to claim it as his. He pulls back long enough to catch his breath, then kisses him again.

Chace's hands never move up although it takes every ounce of strength he has to fight the urge as Mark's mouth seems to claim his. Panting out, catching his breath as the kiss breaks, Chace loses the fight as Mark finds him again and his arm move up, encircling his Master's waist.

Mark's face is grim as he pulls back. "You didn't ask permission, boy." He backhands the boy, then grabs him by the neck and stands up. "Now, what shall we do for the first official punishment?"

Fucking hell! Chace cries out as Mark's hand connects and his eyes widen as he's, quite literally, lifted to his feet. "Sorry Master, I'm sorry. Just wanted to touch you, that's all. Please forgive me." Punishment? Chace is thinking a slap on the hand isn't what Mark has in mind.

"I was going to let you have some fun, boy. Let you see more of the house. Now..." Mark drags the boy into the main bedroom, throwing him to the floor. Reaching under the bed, he pulls out a small cot on wheels. Grabbing the boy, he throws him onto the cot and locks his cuffs to all four corners. "Not much, but I didn't expect to have to come up with something so soon." Standing up, he kicks the cot back under the bed.

The moment Chace sees the bedroom, his first thoughts go to the idea of Mark fucking him and as he sees the cot, he wishes like hell that thought had been correct. "Master, you really...I'll be good, I won't touch again without asking, please!" Chace learned something the first time with Mark - it's useless to fight a mountain. "Master please! Wha...fuck!" The lights suddenly go dark as he feels the entire thing he's attached to move. "Under the bed? Master, I won't touch again, please. I'm sorry."

Mark leaves the room and returns a minute later. Grabbing the cot out, he forces the gag back in the boy's mouth. "I'll be outside, but don't worry. I won't leave you alone in case something's wrong." The cot goes back under the bed and he leaves again. In the next instant the dogs run into the room, sniffing around before jumping on the bed and laying down.

Hearing Mark leave is frightening, but not as scary as the gag being returned to his mouth when Mark returns. "Master, pleaahhth!" Bright blue eyes stare up in the brief moment before the cot is slid back under the bed. He lays there, trying to calm himself until he hears the distinctive sounds of the dogs and every muscle in his body freezes; the last thing he needs or wants is the animals rooting under the bed.

Leaning on his motorcycle, Mark sighs. Part of him had thought the boy would get it right off the bat. But then, what would the fun of that be? Shaking his head, he picks up his tools and starts in on his bike again. One eye stays on the clock hanging outside on the porch. After half an hour, he goes back in and pulls the cot out. "Think you've learned yet, boy?"

The few tears that fall stop quickly - he knows he's in trouble, but at least he knows he's safe, or as safe as he can be. Chace isn't sure if he zones out while he's in the dark of the space, but he knows at some point he forgets the dogs are in the room with him. It's the sound of Mark's feet on the floor that shakes him from his trance and he blinks at the light as he's pulled from under the bed. "Mmhmm," he mumbles behind the gag as he nods.

"I think you need to be sure you know your place." Mark stands up. He snaps his fingers and points at the boy. "Look."

Both dogs jump off the bed and trot over to the boy. They start to smell him again, cold noses pressing against him. After a bit they look up at Mark and sit down.

A cold smile appears. "More."

This time the dogs begin to lick the boy everywhere they can reach. Face, body, cock and what they can reach of his ass.

Dark brows furrow as Chace stares upward. He's said he's learned his lesson - no touching without permission - but Mark isn't undoing his bindings. It's then he hears the snap of fingers, the same snap he heard as he knelt in the living room floor.

"Mmmm!" Chace's head shakes wildly as the animals sniff him, his eyes closing as cold noses poke and prod at him, but it's not until he hears Mark's next command that his entire body goes rigid and blue eyes fly open to lock on Mark's face. "Mmmf! Mmmm!" No, please! Fuck! His ass shifts as much as he can, moving away from the licks of rough tongues against places that, even though Chace's mind can't handle, his body seems to react to.

"Seems like maybe you do. But let's be sure." Unfastening the ankles cuff, he bends the boy in half and locks them to his wrists. Stepping back, he watches the dogs as they shift their attention to the new areas

Oh fuck! Fuck! Master, please! Chace knows what's coming the moment his ankles are released and pulled upward and his eyes beg and plead with Mark to make the animals get back. His mind fights against the licks and nudges as his cock responds. He's trained to control his own hard-on, but fuck if he can at the moment. "Mmm! Mmmhmmm!"

"You're at the bottom here, remember? And everything you have is mine. So if I want to...stay." Mark leaves the room, returning with a small jar. "Now if I do this right, they won't get it everywhere and it won't get stuck in their mouths." Opening the jar, he dips his finger in and spreads out a thin layer of peanut butter over the boy's balls and asshole. "Just a little cold."

Bottom, yes! No, where are you...nooo! Chace trembles as Mark leaves the room and though the dogs listen to the order given, he knows they're just right there. It's not Mark leaving the room that should give Chace worry, it's when he returns but then, worry doesn't even come close. "Mmmf! Mmmhmm! Hmm!" Chace can't see, but he can feel and he knows exactly what's happening, and then they're on him, licking and lapping at his ass and balls.

"Clean all of it." Mark smiles. "Maybe this should be a regular thing too. You seem to be enjoying it. But it wasn't listed as a kink on your bio. Wasn't listed as a hard limit either. We should find out." His gaze is directed at the boy's cock. "Or are we finding out now?

Chace's eyes close as tears trickle down his temples, head shaking from side to side at the horror that fills him. He'd never been one to set and listen to the boys that liked being with animals, thought the idea was unnerving, but now his body seems to be betraying him. "Mmm!" Hips arch upward as he tries to move away but the act only gives more room for a tongue to find it's way against his ass. "Nnghh!" Chace groans, cock throbbing against his lower belly.

Mark spreads more peanut butter, working a little just inside the boy's ass and spreading more on the head of his cock. Pushing the dogs aside, he wheels the cot into the playroom. Finding a spreader bar, he attaches the boy's ankles to it and hooks it to the dangling chain. Mark then grabs some rope and wraps it around the boy's waist, tying him to the cot. "Now they have more room and you can't move."

NO! No, please, fuck! Unghgodnooo! Chace's insides are in knots, his mind whirls as he feels the cot move and he looks up, pleading with Mark to be set free, but as they enter the playroom, Chace knows that's not in the cards. He can see what's happening, feel Mark maneuver his legs and attach the rope but, for the life of him, he can't seem to get through the fog that seems to be settling over him. Fuckinghell! No, not this! Not like this! His eyes lock on Mark's a brief moment before they roll back, a low, pained groan rising from his chest as a tongue laps at his hole, another at the head of his cock and he feels himself slipping.

"You're pleasing me." Mark whispers as he leans down next to the boy's head. "Let go. They won't hurt you. Your Master wants this to happen, so it will. You have no say in this. There is nothing you can do. So don't fight it. Let yourself enjoy it. Let yourself feel how good it is. Your body is saying what your mind is trying to lie about. You can't lie to your Master, or yourself."

No, god no. Tears stream down his temples to wet his hair as he listens to Mark's words, hears them and feels them sink into his body. Chace can feel the wonderful fog as it starts to envelope him and his eyes open. He's aware of the drool sliding from the corners of his mouth, aware of the tears and the trembling of his body, but his main focus is his Master's words and the tone of the voice that pushes him over. With a heaving sob and a deep moan from behind the gag, Chace comes hard, body shaking as his cock lets go with stream after stream of come.

Delight is an expression Mark can't say he has much experience with, but it just might be what he's feeling now. The tears on his boy's face, the need for release that pushed past the shame on his face. He takes the gag out and kisses him hard, adding more to the feelings as the dogs lick up the rest of the peanut butter and the come. "You have pleased me. Very good."

Still sobbing, even into the kiss, Chace doesn't want to think of what brought him to climax. It was his Master's voice, the urging from the man for Chace to let go; it couldn't have been the dog's tongues, or their licking. It couldn't have been. His cock throbs, a few last spurts of come that a tongue quickly laps up and Chace tries, once again, to focus on Mark's words. Unable to speak yet, to even remotely find his voice, he simply nods.

Mark releases the boy from the cuffs. "Get yourself cleaned up. I'll put the dogs outside and wait for you in the living room. Take the time you need but not too long. You can write in your journal before coming to talk to me." He takes one of the boy's hands and places it on his half hard cock. "You pleased me." He helps the boy to his feet, holding him steady for a second before leading him to his room. "I'll be waiting."

For a moment as Mark undoes the cuffs, Chace doesn't want to be touched, he simply wants to be left alone in his humiliation. He came from the attentions of dogs and no amount of training would hold it back. "Yes Master," he chokes out the whispered reply as Mark tells him he can take time to himself. His eyes widen as he looks up at the feeling of Mark's hardness. "But...yes Master," he murmurs before looking around the room, gathering his bearings. "Be down soon."

Mark whistles for the dogs, making sure they have enough food and water before leaving them outside. He sits down, rubbing his hands together and taking a deep breath. He didn't have a set idea on how to introduce the boy to the dogs, or even if he would. Everything just seemed to come together. Now to keep the boy from breaking over it.

Chace sits on the edge of the tub for what seems like forever before moving into the shower and, just letting the water run down over him, staring quietly at the wall. He's confused over what just happened, he's never wanted to be with an animal, but he couldn't hold back the climax no matter how hard he tried. Scrubbing himself clean, the movements coming out of habit, the hot water seems to dull the confusion at least for the time, even as Mark's words play in his head - he pleased his Master.

Chace cleans the shower then looks around for his clothes. "Oh, forgot," he says softly then makes his way, slowly and carefully, into the living room to kneel before Mark.

Mark watches the boy for a minute, looking at his posture. "Tell me what you're thinking, what you're feeling. This was the first time you ever...Of course it was. You had only the usual three for your hard limits. This was not even listed as a soft limit. And you can't say it was something that never occurred to you. I did the same checklist you did to get into Citadel."

He sits there in silence for a moment, his mind racing against thoughts and feelings that he's not sure what to do with. "Yes, was the first...not many 'd ever bring...dogs," he says, swallowing thickly, "into Citadel. Never thought I'd...that it'd. I'm ashamed, Master. Tried to hold back, keep from coming from it, but I couldn't, not when you spoke." Tears trickle down his cheeks. "It wasn't supposed to be good. Animals aren't supposed to be able to make you..."

"And now you know they can. That you could be pushed into that place where it was pleasurable. Where on some level you wanted it. And you learned another lesson. Boy, look at me. You just had your first experience of being owned. No safeword, no choice. What I want you to do, it will happen. And you're going to have to deal with that. In time it will be easier, but for now just keep telling yourself. This happened because my Master wanted it. It made him happy. I made him happy."

Chace had known that once Mark took him there would be no safeword, there would be no getting out of anything he found unpleasant, but he really hadn't let that sink in until the moment the dogs licking at him had brought him to climax. His eyes stay on Mark as the man speaks, but he fights to keep his breathing calm. "Another lesson, yes Master. I want it to get easier, has to get easier, yes. It pleased you. I know that." He sits there a moment more, "Can I please come up next to you? Closer?" He just needs the touch of someone.

Mark pauses for a second, than nods his head. "Yes you may. You did well to remember to ask. Come here." He waves the boy closer.

Crawling forward, Chace settles between Mark's legs, his cheek on his Master's thigh. He doesn't attempt to stop the tears as they trickle down, but he looks up. "Thank you, Master," he murmurs before settling back down. His mind and body are still on edge, but at least he knows Mark - his Master - is pleased with him.

Mark Callaway-standalone- Telling the news to Paul.

Sun, 09 Aug 2009 21:39:24 GMT

(late the night following this)

Or do I have to call Dennis up and bribe him?" Paul sits down next to Mark on the porch. "I mean, I bring you into my home. Let you hug my wife, kiss my girls, feed you. And yet, I don't think that's why it took you ten minutes longer in the Gorilla Position to get into Taker's mindset before you went through the curtains. Now give."

"I don't know what you mean. Steph say something? Or was it Vince?"

"Yeah, Vince said something to Steph. He knew you were crashing here this week cause of the shows. Wanted to know she had made you any promises about anything. Said something about you smiling? Almost gave him a heart attack." Paul smiles as he takes a drink of his beer. "So give. What you got going on?"

Mark sits up enough to look through the glass to see where Stephanie and the girls are. Then he smiles. "I got myself a boy. Out and out bought myself a boy. He's taking care of his things in L.A., I should be back home by the time he's done and back in the state."

"You what? When did this happen? How? I was suprised you even went back to Citadel after that last punk. At least you didn't spend any money on that one? But you bought?"

Mark nods, his gaze turning to take in the view. "Boy I had had a couple times, don't remember at which House. But I had him on my list. Ran into him while back, when Vince offered me the plance to use, remember? I took him home with me that night, the usual way. Gives a good massage. Showed him the barn. And..we talked. Told me about how'd he wanted to be owned. Asked him if he really knew what that meant. And he did. You could tell he did."

Standing up, he walks over to the railing and leans on it. "Saw him again before I flew out here. Some jackass who thought some scratches made him a Dom had him. Laid my card down and hired the boy out from under him. We were doing the session, I was whipping his ass and then..." he shrugs, "next thing I know, I'm finding how much it was to buy out his contract. Told him how he was going to be absolutly nothing." Mark chuckles. "And the boy actually came. Just like that."

"Wow. Sounds like you got a keeper this time. Congratulations, man." Paul goes over to Mark, holding out his hand. "Couldn't happen to a better guy."

"Thanks."

Mark Callaway and Chace Crawford- Meeting again.

Sat, 08 Aug 2009 04:19:34 GMT

[Comments screened and loved]

[Disclaimer: Yeah, it's rushed. Yeah, not the best on believabilty. Blame the pups wanting to get where they're going. Trust us, we can write better.]

(Just some whipping)

Adam and he seemed to hit it off, having drinks a couple of times after work. Having the last day and a half off was good but to him it only makes for very long days and makes that knot in his stomach that much larger as he nears the door to the room he's to meet the client in. The man is nothing spectacular - average height and weight, look of a typical cowboy - and Chace settles in for what he knows will be a damn boring scene. The man, who introduces himself as Dusty, puts Chace in the center of the room, does a few strikes with a singletail then, after inserting a medium-sized plug, puts Chace in a collar and leads him to the bar.

What a way to start back after a day off! he grumbles to himself as he kneels beside the man in the bar, the plug just enough stimulation to be annoying as hell.

Mark checks the computer in the bar, seeing which of his regulars are free. Damn, not that many. And none of my real favorites. Maybe find a new one?

He glances as he feels someone walking past him leading a boy, then looks again. That boy looks familiar... When it looks like they'll be there for a bit, he turns back to the computer. I'll check the boy out in a minute. If he's one of mine, I'll see about getting him when he's free

There are a few things Chace takes pride in knowing he can do, one being space completely out while keeping absolute perfect posture. He kneels there until he's certain that standing will be impossible since his feet are now numb as hell, which would be grand if the man beside him seemed to have a plan, but other than a periodic hand in his hair, Chace is basically ignored. If ya wanted a fucking poodle, ya should've went to the pound, not rented a fucking boy! He begins to zone out once again then snaps to as he catches sight of someone. The man...it is!

Nothing. Grumbling, Mark walks over to the bar. He passes the man with the boy and looks again, then stops. "Boy? What the hell you doing here?" Ignoring the man, Mark grabs the boy by his chin and makes him look up. "And how the hell was I not told? I put you on my list special! How long you been here?"

There's a very real and large part of Chace that wants to absolutely cling to Mark's feet and beg him to haul him away from the King of Boredom that rented him and he nearly loses it in a fit of giggles at the shocked look on Dusty's face as Mark suddenly takes control of him. "Just a few days, Sir. 'm fillin in for someone who had a family thing." Chace glances to Dusty then back to Mark. "This is Dusty, Sir."

Mark glances at the man, then glares at him. "You got a boy calling you by your name?! What the hell kinda Dom are you? Have you read this boy's file? You got him sitting like a lap dog instead of working his ass? You can grab any boy off the street for just that. There are no one stripers that you could be wasting their time?"

Chace's eyes go wide - nearly as wide as Dusty's - and it takes a hard bite to the inside of his cheek to not stand up and absolutely cheer Mark onward. Go Team! Er..Sir, woohoo! Kick 'is ass!

With a snort, Dusty shoves Chace forward to present the few stripes across soft skin. "I worked 'im over some before we come down, if it's any concern to you." Dusty glances down to Chace and almost lovingly strokes his hands through the dark hair. "Our time's almost up, I'm afraid."

There's a pause, then Mark falls against the table with laughter. "You call that...seriously? Time's up? What the hell you hire him for, ten minutes? If he can even move, you ain't done your job." He turns to the boy. "You got anyone after this idiot?"

There's not any point in lying to Mark, Chace knows he'll see the moment he tries to stand. "He's had me little over an hour or so, Sir." Chace glances to Dusty then turns back to look up at Mark. "Been here most of it, and no Sir. No other that I know of, not 'nless someone's got me and I don't know yet."

"You do now." Mark takes his card out of his wallet and slaps it on the table. "Get us a room, they know what I like. You let me know when it's ready. And you!" He turns to Dusty. "You learn how to be a real man before you ruin some good boy." He growls, taking a step towards the other guy as he shows signs of speaking. "Do it!" A last look before he continues on to the bar.

Chace has learned one thing from the times this man has paid for his time - it's not wise to piss off a man with hands the size of platters and, as Dusty begins to speak, Chace actually jumps at the sound of Mark's voice as it seems to reverberate through every bone in his body. "Yes Sir," he says as he snags the card then crawls toward the bar.

"Two shots of Jack and a beer." Slamming the shots down as soon they're put in front of him, Mark forces himself to take a breath. "Stupid damn assholes. Think they know how to play. Fucking dumbass kids are what they are." He glances around to see if the boy is back yet.

He sees Mark looking around and, finally gaining use of his numb feet, pushes to stand as he goes the last several feet toward the man who seems to loom over every other body at the bar. Apparently the 'it's bigger in Texas' thing went double for Mark, he thinks to himself as he holds the card out. "They said the room will be ready by the time you reach it, Sir."

"Good." Taking the card back, Mark just shoves it into his pocket. "Filling in for someone, huh?" He chuckles. "How do I always catch you after some jackass has his hands on you?" He turns to face the boy, looking him over. "I got so many ideas fighting in my head, not sure which one to do first to you."

"Yes Sir, filling in, and..." he smiles upward, "suppose 'm just lucky. Had a decent scene a couple days ago." The look on Mark's face, the power in the man's eyes causes Chace to freeze and his blood seem to stop. "Ideas Sir? Are these ideas that were there for another boy, or for this one in particular?" Chace's mind flashes back to the man's ranch and he shivers.

Mark growls as he grabs the boy by the throat and pulls him closer. "Maybe you forgot how to act towards a real Dom. Let me remind you. You don't get to question me. You're here to suffer the way I want you to." He gives him a little shake. "Understand?"

Fuck yes! Chace groans as Mark grabs him, pulls him in, and every molecule inside him responds to the hand at his throat. He knows it says it in his file, but it really does take a certain Dom to make breath play work. "Forgive me, please Sir," he says, swallowing against Mark's hand. "Yes, understood."

Mark stares at the boy, then tightens his grip a little more. His other hand moves down the boy's body and strokes his cock. He pulls him in a little closer, eyes on the boy's face to catch every expression.

"What else do you need, boy? What have they not been giving you?"

As it becomes just the slightest bit harder to breathe, Chace can already feel himself trying to slip into whatever state it is that this sort of pain seems to settle him in and he fights it with everything he is - wanting to experience more before escaping to headspace.

"This boy wants to hurt, Sir," he pushes out past the man's strong hold. "In whatever way Sir sees fit."

"Then you will." Mark slings the boy over his shoulder and heads toward the room. Kicking the door shut behind him, he drops the boy on the floor. "Strip!" He moves to the table with the toys, checking that they're all there. Picking up the chain flogger, he turns to the boy. "That chain hanging over your head, get up and grab hold of it. Don't you let go." The instant the boy has a good grip, the first strike lands.

He suddenly feels like the captive being hauled off by a caveman as he's bounced and jostled over Mark's shoulder, grunting deeply as he's suddenly dropped to the floor. Scrambling to stand and strip at the order, Chace knows better than to question as he slips from the simple black, cotton pants to stand naked, his eyes on the flogger. "No Sir, I won't," he says, barely getting a tight grip before the first blow lands and he screams out, twisting away from the pain.

"Close your eyes and keep them closed." Mark lifts the chain so the boy swings free with each hit. There's no pattern to the hits, whichever side of the boy is facing him gets it. The only place out of bounds is the upper back with the way the boy is spinning. After a couple of minutes he waits til the boy's back is to him. "Open your legs wide. I want them screaming from not being able to go any further apart. Hold that position!"

It doesn't matter that he's only a two-stripe, it doesn't matter than he'll likely carry marks from hits for days - all that matters is the beautiful pain and the way his mind and body seem to be reacting to it. Even though Chace's eyes are closed, he swears he can see every hit before it lands, hear the metal falls as they whistle through the air to find his flesh over and over. "Yes Sir, yes! I will...I will..." Chace knows, as he spreads his legs, the pain his cock and balls felt the last time the man wielded something and his legs were open and he braces for it this time.

Timing it just right, Mark brings the flogger to come up between the boy's legs, hitting his thighs as well as his cock and balls. He stands back, letting the pain roll through the boy before hitting him again. The strikes come slower now, the time between each becoming longer and longer.

"Aaahhhh!" Chace's entire body jerks against the pain as his stomach lurches and he begins to swallow, violently trying to keep the bile down in his throat. He wants to beg, to plead with the man who swings the flogger but there are no words only screams of pain that mingle lewdly with moans of pleasure as his cock and balls swell and redden from the assault against them.

Mark smiles at the moans as much as at the screams. This boy is special, especially for a two stripe. The 'something else' he sensed at his house is playing in his head again. "You shouldn't be bothering with jackasses like that one. You should only be handled by real men. Ones who will appreciate what you can do."

"Pays...pays for me, Sir! They pay for my time!" Even in the throes of a pleasure that he's only felt at the hands of this man, Chace can't hold back the sobs as he struggles to keep his legs open in the position Mark ordered. Muscles tremble and shake all the while his cock throbs in pain as strands of precome leak from the tip. He knows without a doubt the next days will be interesting between his legs.

Mark snorts. "You should have the right to say no to idiots like that." He laughs suddenly. "You need a Vince to look after you. Only own all your ass instead of half."

His sobs slowly ebb as he tries to focus on the man's words. Chace remembers that name - Vince - remembers it from the talk in the plane from last time. "Vince, Sir? I don't understand." His voice cracks as he speaks, still struggling to hold the position.

"Vince. My boss. Owns the character I play, and me when I play him." Mark sets the flogger down, moving to look closer at the marks he's left. "Keep those legs open." His hands are rough as they travel over the boy's skin. "This is how you should be all the time."

Owned. Chace lets himself dwell on the idea for a moment, the thought of being completely owned filling his head until his mind explodes in pain once more as a hand plays roughly over damaged skin. "Yes Sir, trying...doing...doing my best, Sir. It...uhhh, it's hard Sir!" Lean muscles tense and flex as he fights against the pain in his thighs.

Mark grabs the boy by the chin to look at him. "If it wasn't hard, I wouldn't be making you do it, would I?" He slaps the boy's ass as he goes back to the toys. "I should find that idiot, parade you in front of him so he knows what real marks are."

"No Sir, no you wouldn't, you...agh!" Chace is smart enough to know that the final remark from the man is rhetorical at best and that any comment on his own part isn't needed. "Muscles..." he whispers out, "cramping up. Cramping Sir!" He feels Mark move away more than sees it and as much as he wants to see where the man went, he doesn't want to see what's next.

"Give me a reason to let you rest. Why should I?" Mark turns and smiles as he crosses his arms. "Now I want to see how long you can last."

The bad thing is, Chace, regardless of how he tries, can't come up with a valid reason at the moment to be let down other than his muscles aching. "Don't have a reason, Sir," he stammers out, "can't think...can't...fuck!" Toes go straight as he forces his legs outward to prevent the curling up the muscles so desperately want.

"But you'll do it for me. Because I tell you to." Mark lowers his voice as he moves closer. "To make me happy, to make me proud, you will. Won't you?" He rests his hand on the boy's cheek, staring into his eyes. And wondering to himself why he is.

Chace knows he will; he'll do as the man tells him to until his mind and body can absolutely go no further. Mark gives him everything he's desired for as long as he can remember - fear, pain, desire, need, pleasure - and wraps it up in a beautiful package that has Chace's head swimming. "Yes Sir," he grunts out as he turns into the touch, "yes. Do my best to make you proud."

"You would do anything for the Sir. Like a good boy should." Mark can see something in the boy's eyes, but can't decipher it. "Tell me what you're thinking. There's something going on. I can feel it."

"This boy only wants to please you," he sobs out as his muscles scream for release from the position. "Sir's so good with the pain, so perfect at giving it that this boy doesn't want to let him down!"

"Is that all?" Mark's grip on the boy's jaw is painful. His voice lowers into a growl. "Tell me, or I will never hire you again. Do not lie, or I will leave you here."

Chace can't do it - between the grip to his chin and Mark's words, his concentration fails, his legs snap closed against his ravaged balls and his scream echoes in the room, filling the air around them. "This boy wants you to take him to places he can't go, not as a two-stripe Sir." He knows the results of breaking the rules when hiring a boy and he can't let that happen here. "Sorry, I'm sorry Sir. I tried to hold the position Sir, I did."

Mark can't help the smile at the boy's screams, but is surprised enough by his words to let him go. "Places you can't go? What the hell you talking about? You're going for that third stripe."

He knows if he keeps it inside, Mark may very well be able to see, but saying the words means he stands the chance of putting this man off forever. "The last stripe takes time, Sir...takes training." Just say it! He can only walk away once! Chace's head drops forward. "It also means that I'll be marked by someone other than you." He's let it happen - he's grown attached to a sir.

"Is that...is it..." Mark can't find the words for a thought he's not sure is fully there. "Let go of the chain." He wipes at his face as he turns away. "I can't be the only one who's worked you this hard. Not all of them could have been like that idiot."

The moment the word is given, Chace's hands let go and he sinks to the floor, legs unable to support his weight, feeling as if he's let this man down in some way. "Two stripes, Sir. They've not been allowed to mark me," he pants out. "Most won't mark up a boy that's not theirs. Especially not a Citadel one. It'd be breaking my contract."

"So how do you know?" Mark's back is still to the boy. "How do you know you don't want to be marked by someone else? What is different?"

Blue eyes close as he realizes he's very likely ruined the only thing that's ever touched where he's wanted to go. Chace's head sinks forward, shoulders drop as he curses himself for his own fuck-up. "You're the only one to even remotely touch where my body and mind needs to be."

"And where is that?" There is almost wonder in Mark's voice. He knows his reputation with the House boys and is proud of it. But what this boy is saying...it is beyond just that. But how he still can't work out.

If he's ruined his time with the man, then so be it, what's said is done and there's no reason to hold back now. Chace's lids close slightly, his eyes lower, as if he's seeing where he should be. "A place of ultimate pain, wonderful pleasure," he murmurs, "and not being able to tell the difference. 've left two relationships because they couldn't...couldn't own me."

"Own you?" The words make Mark turn back around to look at the boy. He takes in how the boy is sitting, the expression on his face. Mark takes a step toward him, then stops. He sees another boy now and his face hardens. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Chace lifts his face then, his voice stronger, more sure as he slowly regains a bit of his strength. "But I do," he says with quiet but firm resolve, "I know exactly what I'm talking about Sir. I've looked for it for years." Blue eyes lower once more. "Thought I'd find it in Citadel, but regardless of the scene, the way you feel owned during, you still go home alone. Remembering the pain."

"Go home alone." Mark remembers the conversation at his home now. Remembers the boy's words, how he felt on hearing them. "And what makes you think I can do that for you? The Citadel is a fantasy we share in. It's not the outside world. Knowing someone an hour at a time doesn't mean you can say how they are." He smirks. "Trust me on that. There are millions of people who think they know me. Who have made me what they want me to be. I'm the darkest evil. The Deadman who feels no pain. The heel they wish they could be. The dark mage who brings fear."

He sits there thinking for a moment. "If you could or couldn't would be up to you, Sir. I only know since I first found out what pain does, how I react to it, the times you've hired me have been the hardest and most amazing times. Citadel is my reality Sir, my fantasy would be to find someone to serve full-time." Chace can't stop the small chuckle as he shakes his head. "No Sir, not for an hour, even two, but I know you well enough to know the items in your barn are on the wall alphabetically." He looks up then, eyes falling to Mark's face. "I had no clue who you were the first time you hired me. Who you are in the ring isn't what interests me, isn't what I need, it's what you do to me the moment you enter the room."

"And what is that? Exactly what do I do to you that you need? Why do you want to serve me?" Mark kneels down in front of the boy. "How does the pain I give you make you want to be mine?"

His eyes stay on Mark as the man kneels down in front of him. "There are a lot of clients call themselves master, most couldn't bring blood for anything. I believe you not only could but would readily do so." Aware he's putting both feet in his mouth by continuing, he still goes on. "What you give consumes me for days after. It's all I can think of. All I want."

"And what can you give me?" Mark is still fighting this. It's touching something inside him too close, something he had resigned himself to never fullfilling. He was disappointed once, he will not let it happen again. No matter how attractive the offer presents itself. "Why should I want you?"

Chace can hear it in the man's voice and he kicks himself for possibly screwing up the only scenes he actually looks forward to. He shrugs softly as he shifts on the floor, wincing at the pain between his legs. "I don't know what you're lookin' for in a slave, or even if ya want one. And I could only give you one thing." Chace meets Mark's eyes and holds the gaze. "My life."

"Your life." Mark licks his lips. "What does that mean to you? What does giving your life mean?" It's the last question he can ask, the answer meaning everything. "It's a phrase people tend to throw around, not meaning it like it sounds."

He's spent years wanting it, he knows exactly what he wants and what that encompasses. "You'd own me, everything about me and for long as you wanted me, I'd do as you say. Or, do my best to, anyway." Chace worries at his lip for a moment then looks around the room. "I can be a sub here, what I want 's to be a slave."

"How long do you have on your contract?" Mark can't believe the words as he says them.

Not realizing Mark is asking for anything other than simple curiosity, Chace shrugs. "Around six months, Sir. Guess if the training for a three happens, it'll be in there somewhere."

"And if you didn't train for a three, if something came up and you couldn't..." You can't be thinking this. Are you really thinking this!? Mark stares hard at the boy in front of him, nervous for the first time in a long time.

Chace shifts, as much from the stare as from the throbbing between his legs, then shrugs. "I guess things happen, life and all that." He studies Mark for a moment, trying to get a bead on why the man seems so curious. "Guess I'd hope to find something else." What, he doesn't know since there aren't many positions for masochist in general population.

"Stay here." Mark gets up and walks out of the room. It's a long while before he returns, a piece of folded paper in his hand. He stands over the boy and takes a deep breath. "Stand up and look at me."

For the longest time after the man leaves him there, Chace wonders if he'll actually return but, as he sits there, is more than thankful for the time to gather himself. As the door opens and Mark steps toward him, Chace looks up, trying to read the look on the strong features then pushes to stand, swaying slightly. "Yes Sir?"

He opens the paper and holds it out. "That is what it will cost to buy out your contract. I have to decide if you're worth it. If you're worth owning."

Chace stares with wide blue eyes at the slip of paper before his eyes travel up to Mark's face. "B...b...buy out my contract?" He suddenly sounds like he's just been goosed, voice a full octave higher than normal. "You'd buy me?"

"There was a boy. I thought he was worth it. But he wasn't. He failed me. I didn't appreciate that. I still don't. If I do this and you fail me, that's it. You're out and I don't care what happens to you. I'm not sure if the Citadel will take you back where you were or make you start over or what. And I won't care. If they do, I'll never hire you again. I won't even acknowledge your existence if we happen to cross paths."

He almost thinks better of it, but can't stop himself as he takes a step forward, his eyes on the other man. There have been very few times in his life that have left him speechless and ever fewer that have completely stunned him - this is one. The fact that this man would consider owning him is nearly beyond his comprehension. "How did he fail you? If ya don't mind me askin, Sir." Ways flash through Chace's mind and he dismisses each one, wondering how a sub could displease this man and still live to tell of it.

"He promised everything he was to me. Total ownership of himself. He did not carry that though. He wanted limits to what I could have of him. To what he would do. There can be no limits. There's all or there is nothing."

Chace's heart slams against his chest as he plays the words over in his head. All or nothing. How long has he waited for someone to actually give him that - someone that could actually give the pain and pleasure that he desires? "He surrendered to you then put limits on that?" His head shakes as he takes another step.

" 'I give you my life,' he said. He never dreamed to what extent I would hold him to that promise. How serious I was. When he realized, he thought he could change my mind about it. That I would keep him and play the game his way. He was wrong."

He still can't believe it; he's standing here talking with a man that has given him the best pain, the most amazing sensations of his life and there was a boy before him that hadn't wanted it. "There's a difference in a sir keeping a boy and a slave being owned." Chace squares his shoulders, struggling to hold his features steady as he looks down to the paper. "I'm a boy here, been one nearly two years, and every night I go home wanting more."

"If I pay this, I will own you. In every possible meaning of the word. Even in the bad meaning. Money will have changed hands over your body and who gets to decide what happens to it. I. Will. Own you. I will tell you, you will obey. 'No' is not going to be part of your vocabulary. You will have no voice in any decision. You will not be a person unless I decide it. You won't be a boy, just something I own."

Chace can actually feel his body hum as he stands there listening to the description; a definition of what he's wanted to be as far back as the very first hard on at his very first paddling. He's not been given permission to come, but dear fucking christ if the man keep up, Chace is going to embarrass himself right there. "I can't promise I won't fight against you sometimes, human nature 's to struggle at what hurts...even the good pain. I can promise to allow you to do with me as you see fit." Is this really happening? Finally? After all this time?

"You will not have any friends, any family over. Not til I say, til I believe that you know your place." Mark reaches out and grips the boy by the throat to pull him closer. "Til you know and accept that you are my property."

Blue eyes close as he's pulled in by the throat and he fights to keep hold of the single silken thread of control that he still has. "My only family's dead," he murmurs as he feels his pulse against Mark's hand, "move so much between Houses my friends are Citadel boys." His eyes open then to meet Mark's fierce gaze. "Make me yours."

"You have a couple of days left here. Spend it getting rid of everything you have. House, car, sell them. All your money will come to me. You will come to me with the clothes you brought. You won't be needing them for long." His grip tightens just a little. "You will own nothing, be nothing."

That's it, punishment be damned, Chace's body loses the grip and he comes. He couldn't have stopped it had his very life depended on it. Ignoring his climax, praying Mark doesn't notice, Chace squirms at the grip to his neck. "Yes Sir, I understand. Show up at your house with nothing."

"No, you'll call me and I will pick you up." Mark runs a finger down the boy's face. "Nothings have no way to get anywhere. You won't have money for a cab, won't have a car." He hides his smile the boy's reaction. He's made a good choice this time. "Every paper you have that says you're you? I want. I'm going to keep them and the money." He leans into his face. "Pray you never give me a reason to give them back to you."

Absolutely terrified at what's to come and utterly delusional with pleasure that it will, Chace keeps willing himself to wake up. If this is a dream, he needs to wake up, needs to snap out of it and convince himself it's not real. The grip, however, on his throat and the heat from Mark's breath tells him it is. "Don't own my place Sir, don't own a car," he pants out, his own heat radiating from him, "but will do as you said." Some people are born to be president, others born to be musicians or CEO's of companies, Chace firmly believes this is what he's meant to be. "I won't want them back, ever."

"Wanting is one thing. Do everything to not have them handed back to you is another. You do whatever you need to do whereever you need to do it, then you fly your ass back here. By the time you call me to pick you up at the airport, everything and I mean everything had better be done. And then you can say goodbye to the world, boy. Cause there's no telling when you're going to see it again." He lets go of the boy and folds the paper back up. "It just became too late to turn back." Without another word he leaves.

"I will Sir," he says quietly, his body reacting like a wildfire to the whole idea of what he's done - what he'll be doing - and the idea of where he's to end up. "I'll be back," he grunts out as he gains his breath then stands there and watches Mark leave the room. "Promise." Chace looks around the room, his heart pounding in his ears; it's happened and he couldn't be happier - terrified as hell, but happy.

Reaching back to scratch his shoulder, a nail rakes across one of the light welts and Chace's eyes go wide. "Aw fuck. Wonder how long the he sat there after I left?" He groans then, eyes closing. "And if my ass...wait, what can they do, ground me?" He knows damn well they can reprimand him, make his next two days living hell, but there's not much he can do about it now except go take his ass chewing.

Mark Callaway and Chace Crawford

Wed, 29 Jul 2009 03:46:56 GMT

Follows this.

[just standard whipping. Backdated to July 14]

-----------------

Mark nods in approval, setting the plates on the table and going back for the drinks. "You moving well. Doing okay?"

"Good as can be expected, I guess," he replies with a half smirk, "but, if it's a'right, I'd just as soon stand to eat." The idea of sitting down on anything even remotely hard, or soft for that matter, isn't something Chace really wants to try for.

Mark chuckles as he sits. "Yeah, that's understandable." He looks at the boy as he takes a bite and a drink. "Not a bad session, considering. Some boys won't leave the Houses. You definately moved up on my list." He smiles, "I'm kinda glad your last hire had shit for brains. Would have missed you otherwise."

Chace takes up a spot at the bar, leans against it and smiles to himself as he realizes that, while the other man has beer, he has a soda in front of him. Taking a drink, he sighs at the cold against his throat. "Not like they don't know where I'm at or who's got me, and..." he pauses for a moment then nods, "yeah, was good. Hurt the right way." The man definitely hadn't lost any skill. "Sadly, the ones like that are all too damn common for my tastes."

"Ain't that the truth." Mark gets up to grab some potato chips. He stops in front of the boy. "I don't share my beer with strangers. Next time, bring some on your own." He sits back down, shaking out the chips before holding the bag out to the boy. "So, what time do I have to get you back home?"

There's no way to hold back the soft laugh as he shakes his head. "I don't drink when I'm in a scene. Never know what's bound to happen and the last thing I need 's to get into somethin' and end up pukin'." Chace reaches out to take the bag, nodding a thanks as he dumps a few out on his plate. "Well, ya got me until tomorrow. I got a couple days off after just...well, just in case." And if this last little bit was any indication, Chace knows he'll need those days off.

"Okay. I was thinking - hold on." Mark grumbles as he goes to answer the phone. "Hello. Yeah. Yeah, it's still an offer. How long til they get here? Yeah, no that works. Gives me time to take care of things. They figure out how long they'll need it? Okay. Yeah, call me with all the details later. Better yet, email it. All right. Bye." He hangs up, shaking his head. "Well I'll be damned. I didn't think they would. Now I just have to get ready." Mark turns to the boy. "Lucky for us, we still got time."

Chace stands there eating, or rather nibbling, at his sandwich as he listens to the end of the conversation he can hear. Apparently someone or some 'thing' is coming and he's not really sure, from the sound of it, if he'll be there when this person or thing arrives. "If you've got plans I can always catch a plane back." Plane. Sorta forgot that part. Damn. With just over half the sandwich gone, Chace pushes the plate back. "Time for what? And, I still 've no clue what to call you."

"Huh? Oh, letting someone rent my house. They got business in the area, didn't want to stay in a hotel. Too long and they got kids. Don't have much to do, just put some things away so I won't have to worry about something happening to them. Clean up a little." Mark smiles as he takes a bite of his sandwich. "Thought you Citadel boys used Sir as a default."

"Renting your place out?" Chace's cheeks turn deep crimson as he bites at his lip, "Well, from the two seconds I got a look at it outside, looks to be a pretty huge place. Nice from what I could tell, but huge for someone that's single." Then it hits him - maybe the man isn't single and he's just put his foot in his mouth. "If 'm told to, I will, but it's not a default," he says with a laugh, "ya don't, well, I don't, just default back like a clock on twelve."

Mark looks thoughtful as he eats. "You know, I never really gave much thought to what you boys do beyond the session." He waves it away. "Sir will do. And not single, married couple. Four or five kids. They'll run around this place, get worn out come nightfall. Not sure what to do with the dogs. Have to see how they take to the family." He laughs. "I'm going to have to warn them about the barn, make sure it's locked."

Shifting on his feet, Chace takes another bite of his sandwich - it's there after all - then turns toward Mark at the comment on the kids. "Busy couple, weren't they?" There's the slightest hint of a smile on Chace's lips; he'd been right. Mark definitely isn't the type to let a boy, in scene or not, call him by his name. "The barn, Sir? You have horses? Haven't ridden in a long time." He goes back to the comment about off-time and takes a step closer to the other man. "I can show ya what I've done before in my down time, if you'll let me."

Mark raises an eyebrow and smiles. "Only horses I got are iron ones. I'll lock up my darlin', the husband rides some so let him use one of the older ones." He stands up, grabbing his beer and finishing off his sandwich. "Come on. I'll show it to you."

Mark walks out to the arcadia door and opens it. The two dogs run, sniffing around him and jumping up. "Nope, not of this is for you. Come on, back out." The dogs start back out, then catch sight of the boy. They stop, growling low as they step toward him. "Leave him! Outside." The dogs stop, sniffing the air before racing out. "Come on, boy."

"Bikes? You ride, Sir?" Very few things entice Chace like straddling a bike. "Guy I used to be with," he says as he falls in behind Mark, "he had a pair of Indian Chief Vintage bikes. Amazing things, beautiful." Grabbing another drink before he heads toward the door, Chace thinks on taking it with him then decides better of it and slides the cola back to the counter.

As it turns out, not holding onto the drink is the best idea he's had all day considering he nearly falls over himself as the dogs - mountain things that match their owner - face off with him in a low, challenging growl. "Sir, uhm...do they bite?" Pain is one thing, being bitten by a dog is a whole other story.

"They don't if I tell them not to. You'll be fine. Yeah, I got three bikes. A good buddy of mine bought me the one have to lock up." Mark leads the way to a large dark red barn. Opening a door at one end, he walks in and flicks on the light. Three motorcyles are lined up in a row, the tools needed to maintain them hanging on the wall behind.

"This is the one I was talking about." He lays his hand on a black/dark purple bike. "Actually, while we're here..." Taking a drink, he hands the beer to the boy and starts to push the bike toward a door leading into the barn. Kicking it open, he goes inside. "This is what I really have to lock up. Come on." Reaching behind him, Mark flicks on more lights. Bit by bit, a fully-stocked dungeon is revealed. Crosses, wooden horses, tables with shackles, cages. Some on the floor, some suspended. Rows of toys line the walls.

Chace follows though he keeps an eye on the animals. It's not that he don't trust the other man and his ability to control the dogs, but careful is always good. Walking in behind Mark, Chace's eyes go wide at the sight of the bikes. "Oh wow, Sir! They're amazing!" He's not been invited to touch or even get near them, so Chace admires the machines from a few steps back. "Work on 'em yourself?" He takes the beer and, following behind Mark, wonders just what else the barn holds.

His question is answered in the flick of a switch and the loss of his own breath as his chin hit the ground. If Citadel is kink heaven, Mark's barn is kink hell - the much harder and darker version of anything Chace has seen at the Houses so far. Kink on steroids! He immediately begins to fidget. "Sir? You...ya use all this...stuff?" Training aside, there are things on the walls that Chace knows he'll be going to Google later just to find out what they are.

"I don't buy things for looks, boy. I buy them to use them." Mark parks the bike and looks at the boy. "I've used everything in this barn. Have a party once in a long while. Not many of you Citadel boys have seen the inside of this place. Mostly kept boys loaned out by their Masters, or being worked for show." He leans against the bike. "Go ahead and look around."

"Oh! Of course, Sir. Didn't mean anything, just...good god." Chace glances to the wall then nods back to Mark's words, his eyes still on the implements - and they are implements, not toys - some of which Chace is certain were used by the Spanish Inquisition or maybe by Vlad the Impaler. "Thanks for trusting me in here then, Sir." Moving toward the wall, his eyes widen; hooks, chains, poles, cuffs, things that he has no idea what they are - and some he doesn't want to know - are all neatly in their place. An organized sadist?

"Not like you're here by yourself. No one comes in here without my being here." Mark points to the walls. "Doors on each side. Open them up during sessions, let the wind blow through. Smell the rain. The dogs know not to come in here, there's no one close enough to hear the screaming."

As Chace glances around, he realizes that, yes it's true, the dogs haven't followed them inside. "You open the doors up during your play out here? There's a reason to let the wind blow in?" Chace isn't sure about the whole 'smell of the rain' thing, especially when it comes to a scene, but figures the man has his reasons. It's the idea, however, that there isn't anyone close enough to hear screaming that has both a jolt of pure fear and a rush of pure pleasure-filled adrenaline coursing through him.

Mark laughs. "Boy, you ever have someone work you over so much, that a breath on your skin makes you leap clear out of it? Imagine that all over your body at once." He shakes his head as he stands up. "They need to show you life outta Citadel once in a while."

"Well Sir, 's not really doors to leave open in the Citadel rooms - well, there are, but ya know, they just sorta go to the hallway." Chace isn't sure how much air one could get flowing through a room like that, and other than the ceiling fans, people there usually tend to rely on the air conditioning for coolness. "My first sir wasn't so much into the heavier things and, well...the man the got me into Citadel, he was harder, but still pretty reserved. Had a thing for clamps and sensation play though."

"Yeah, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you don't get it. Might have to change that someday. Best get back to the house, make a quick list of what needs to be done." Mark grabs his beer from the boy and walks out to where the motorcycles are, taking a keyring off a nail on the wall. "Lock this up now, won't have to worry about it later."

Leaving the barn, Mark walks back to the house. Grabbing some more chips, he sits at the table. A slow glance around sets the to-do list in his mind. "So I have you til tomorrow. What should I do to you next?"

Chace doesn't question out loud but, as Mark comments on the idea of a list, he can't help but wonder if the man means a list of what to do before whoever it is gets there or a list that compiles whatever tortures lurk in the dark corners of the man's mind; he half hopes it's the second.

He follows quietly for a moment, only speaking once they reach the house and his mind seems to find the ability to function fully again. "Well Sir, that's definitely up to you, 'nless you're offering up a list for me to choose from, that is." His mind goes back to the things in the barn and his cheeks color beet red. "I'd like to ask though...is Sir's skill with the singletail 's as good as the flogger."

"Maybe you should tell me. There's one in that room there." Mark drains his beer. "I've never had any complaints." Standing up, he walks over to the boy and tears away the towel. His eyes travel over the naked boy. "You'll mark up real well, won't you boy?" He kicks the boy's legs out from under him. "Now get into that room."

Chace's eyes dart toward the room a sheer moment before the towel is yanked from his body, the material scraping harshly against the damaged skin. "Ngh, fuck! Yes Sir, I will, I'll..." his words are cut short as his feet leave him and he lands hard on his ass. Tears immediately come to his eyes as he struggles for a moment to catch his breath as not only ass, but cock and balls hit with a force that adds pain all over again. "Yes Sir," he finally pants out then slowly begins to crawl.

"I said now!" Mark uses his boot to shove the boy in the ass, pushing him forward. A second later he grabs the boy by the hair and drags him into the room. Clipping the wrist cuffs together, he lowers the chain again and hooks it onto the cuffs. Pulling the boy up into the air, he sets the chain to keep him there. Without warning he spins around and strikes the boy, letting the singletail wrap around him.

Scrambling to keep up and keep his balance as Mark drags him, Chace wonders for a moment just how much more his scalp can stand before hairs begin to pull free. "Sir, please!" It's when they reach the room that he sees the reason for the cuffs being left on - ease of use for Mark - when he hoisted into the air by his wrists. "Sir, what..." The scream cuts through the silence of the room like a hot knife through butter, echoing back to his own ears as every muscle tightens and his body jerks against the chain that holds him.

"It's a shame I have to be some careful with you." Mark walks around the boy, striking him from another angle. "But then, that's what happens with the two stripes. Get you all pumped up." Another strike. "Then you have to pull back. But then again, as I remember." Strike. "You took it better than a lot did. You were dancing for it at the end. Wanting it. I'm a little surprised you're still a two stripe actually." A lower strike this time, the tip landing just above the boy's cock.

As his body jerks against the pain, the chain allows him to turn and things suddenly take on a very surreal feeling as Mark's voice, the slow spin of the chain and the acute and shocking sting of the whip all seem to melt together somewhere in his center. "Wanna be...a three, Sir!" He also remembers just how much this man likes giving pain and how his own body reacted to it before. The next hit lands then and both legs come upward to pull into his stomach.
"Aghhfuck! Yes! It hurts Sir!" It's that pain that has his cock standing out at full length.

"Hell yeah it hurts, boy!" Mark grabs the boy's chin, making him look at him. "That's why you said yes. That's why you're here. Cause you want the pain." He gives a slap to the boy's hard cock. "You need it. Now I don't want any more words, just your screaming."

The hits come at random, both in location and the time between them. But Mark keeps careful track of them. He does have to return this boy after all. But it doesn't stop him from attaching his ankle cuffs together and tying a rope to them. Bringing over a small weight, he ties the boy's legs down, leaving him some play but not enough to protect himself.

As much as Chace hates to admit it, there was no way for him to even think about not coming when the man offered this trip, and, as blue eyes stare into Mark's face, he nods. "Yes, Sir. I do. Ngh! Fuck! Fuck!" The hit to his cock drives it downward and his feet come up again as the tears begin, the knot forming in his belly at the pain and pressure to his body.

"No words..." There's no hope that words could come as the hits begin again and Chace's body spins and jerks, his screams slowly becoming moans and cries of emotion as pain meets pleasure and the line between the two begins to blur. Tears stream from his eyes, a trickle of blood tinged saliva runs down his chin - the result of a bitten lip - and he's only vaguely aware of the sudden added weight to his body, the stretch to his skin and muscle bringing bursts of fresh pain.

Mark smiles as he hears the change in the boy's screaming. He pauses long enough to lick at his tears, hand moving down his body to feel the developing welts. "You wanna be a three, huh? That's very good. Let's see how it goes." The hits are more measured, more regular. He watches the boy's face and body, judging his reactions. "That's it, boy. Show me how you need this. Why you're here." His voice is low, wrapping itself around the boy.

He feels the strain on his shoulders, the weight that pulls him down to hold his body taught against the sting of the whip, but it's Mark's voice that reaches him - sinks into his thoughts - and wraps around him as surely as the tip of the whip does. Blue eyes, half-lidded, stare outward as his body jumps and spasms against each strike and, at Mark's coaxing, Chace begins to speak, his voice soft and low, barely audible. "More please, Sir. Want to give you more screams please..." Chace arches, as much as the weight will allow, toward Mark and the whip he knows waits to land again.

"You will. You'll give me so much more." The hits become more focused, landing directly on the boy's nipples and his cock. Mark has to shift his stance, his body reacting to the boy's pain. Blindly reaching behind him, he grabs the first whip his hand touches. His smile grows as he sees it's the chain flogger. The flogger darts now and then, between the strikes of the singletail.

Somewhere inside, Chace knows where the whip lands, but he wouldn't stop it even if he could. The pain drives down his hard-on then, just as surely, pulls it back again, his cock throbbing and pulsing with every hit from the whip's tip. With his head against his upstretched arm, Chace's eyes have the dazed look of pure, painful bliss as small grunts and moans leave him; that all changes as the chain flogger finds his skin. "Ahhhhaaee!" Eyes widen in pain and nostrils flare with panted breaths before his head drops back and he sinks back into the pain, softly mumbled words leaving his lips.

"That's it, boy. Just fall back into it. Let it pull you down." Mark lets a half dozen hits of each toy land before dropping them. He brings the boy's head up, looking into his eyes. "Very good." He gives him a rough kiss, a hand roaming over the boy's body. "Better than I remembered. You need to be pushed more." He chuckles. "Want to be the first to mark you when you hit three stripes."

"Thank you," he murmurs as the hits finally cease and he hears Mark's voice praising him. He thinks the words are spoken aloud, but perhaps not, maybe they're only something his mind plays in his head as he feels the kiss claiming his mouth as a hand finds damaged flesh. Blue eyes do their best to focus on the man's face and Chace nods to Mark's words. "First, yes Sir. I'll r'member."

Mark undoes the rope attached to the boy's ankles, then moves to lower the chain. He goes slow, letting the boy rest on the ground for a second as he unhooks the wrist cuffs. Then he picks him up and carries him over to the cot along one wall. Mark checks the welts as he puts on the ointment. He smiles as he wipes his hands on a small towel and stands. "Rest. I'll check on you in a little while."

Chace gives a soft whimper as the weight on his feet leaves and his body suddenly comes in contact with the ground. His eyes go to the cuffs but, as Mark had said previously, the cuffs remain even as they're unhooked from the chain. "Thank you, Sir," he whispers as he's placed on the cot, the material rough and scratchy against his skin but at least he's being allowed to rest. Blue eyes glance upward to the man as he stands and he nods, thankful already for the ointment on the wounds. "Of course, Sir." The words are barely mumbled out before Chace's eyes close.

Mark checks on the boy now and then as he gets the house ready for the renters. He curses as his back starts to ache, ignoring it to finish before heading outside. It's another hour before he comes back in, more places hurting now. "Fuck." He grabs a beer before falling onto the couch.

He has no clue as he comes from the dead-to-the-world sleep where he is for a moment but as the pain in his flesh hits him, it all comes back and he basically rolls off the cot to his hands and knees. In desperate need of a bathroom and a drink of water, he glances around the room and makes his way to the door he hopes is a bathroom. "Nngh, fuck!" he groans out as he pushes up, splashes water on his face and relieves himself. Washing his hands, he slowly makes his way to the living room. "Sir? May I join you?"

"You finally awake, huh?" Mark leans his head back on the couch, groaning a little. "Everything all right? Anything I need to check?" He raises his head just a little to watch the boy as he sits down, then lets it fall back down. "Need some more ointment?"

"Awful sore, Sir, but...I think I'm okay." Chace thinks that until he sits and some of the marks on his back and ass tell him otherwise. "Ointment, Sir. Yes please, that'd be nice. Some of the marks seem a bit more sore than I thought." Watching the other man for a moment, Chace's eyes narrow, not understanding how the man in front of him seems so sore when he's the one that took the beating. "Are you a'right, Sir?"

"Did the work around the house while you were out." Mark sets down his beer, another groan as he stands. "Been in the business this long, things hurt sooner than when you were younger." He heads down to the room and returns with the ointment. "Where you hurting?"

Chace watches as the man leaves then returns then, moving slowly himself, rolls to his side. "Ass and nipples, Sir." His cock throbs with the welts from the beating, but the idea of anything touching it at the moment isn't something Chace wants to deal with. He knows, however, that it does need tending to. "...and my cock, Sir," he whispers out into the couch cushion. "I can help your soreness, Sir."

"You can, huh? And how is that?" Mark moves his hand lightly over the boy's body, seeing where more of the ointment is needed. "Roll a little more on your back. There, did I get everywhere?" He stands to get a paper towel from the kitchen, twisting his body to loosen up the muscles as he walks. "You need something to drink?"

Readily complying if it means that the sting in his skin will ease, Chace winces as the ointment's applied then nods. "Yes Sir, thank you." Relaxing on the couch for a moment as Mark leaves then returns, he nods up to the other man. "Yes Sir, water 'd be good, and yeah, I can help. My arms 're a bit sore, so might not be good as usual, but I'm a trained masseuse, Sir. Can show ya if you wanna get on the floor, or...maybe the bed."

"A masseuse? Never had one from a Citadel boy, just our trainers at the arenas. Did your bio mention service work?" Mark takes a water bottle out of the fridge and brings it over to the boy. He sits back down, taking a drink of his beer as he looks at the boy. "Rest up a little more. I can wait. No use getting a massage if you're going to fade out on me."

"Thank you," he sighs, taking the bottle. "I was a masseuse before I came to Citadel," he says, thinking for a moment as he takes a long drink. "I believe it does. The man that got me into the club? I was with him for a bit before, not as his really, just..." Chace shrugs up a shoulder as he looks up. "He liked massage so he paid for my training. Older man with lots of money," he says with a chuckle then nods. "Yes Sir, just let me know when."

"Older man with lots of money, huh? Why'd you leave? That's a prize a lot of those boys at Citadel are looking for." Mark shifts on the couch to better look at the boy. His eyes study him without being obvious. "Not his really? How were you with him?"

Chace twists his body just enough to be able to meet the eyes of the other man. "Well, first Sir, 'm not most Citadel boys," he says with an obvious smirk. "He was the first one to show me what pain - real pain - could do, how it could make me feel." Chace's voice softens as he recalls the period in his life. "He had a life, a family. I knew going in. I was his boy, without fail, while we were in a scene, but I wasn't bound to him, not by my heart or my mind."

"So who ended it, you or him? Or his family, should I say? Or was that just his regular practice, take a boy out for a spin, then move to the next one?"

He chuckles softly, a sound that's shortly followed by a wince as muscle in his back move against the couch. "It was mutual, Sir. And his partner knew about me, even met me a time or two." Chace thought about Mark's words for a moment. "I don't know if I was one in a list, but I know he seemed to care enough to help me discover what I wanted."

"So he taught you about pain. Have to compliment him for that job. And you've been at Citadel since then?" Mark takes another drink.

Chace reaches for his own drink, takes a swallow then nods. "Yeah, he sponsored me in then got me into training. Been working there right at a year and a half now I guess." He grins sheepishly at Mark, "And if I ever see him, I'll make sure he knows you send your compliments."

"Half a year til your time is up. You going to stay on afterwards? Would think you'd be a three stripe by then." Mark doesn't know why he's asking all these questions. It's the longest he's held a conversation with any boy. Part of him wonders why he is while he waits for the boy to answer.

His lashes lower just the slightest at the question and he shrugs as much as he can in his position. "Most likely, yes Sir. I really would like to go on to a three-stripe at some point." He's not sure any man that's rented his time there has ever been this curious, but while it's different, it's rather nice too. "It's not perfect, but it works, ya know?"

"Nothing wrong with it. There are far worse ways. Sure as hell know about that. Was a long time before I could afford to hear about Citadel." Mark shakes his head as he drinks. "Talking about beggers not being choosers. There's a reason they call them ring rats."

"Ring rats? You mean those little tarts that hang around hoping for a bang from a wrestler?" He suddenly realizes that Mark misunderstood what his words had meant. "No, no. I like what I do, it's the going home that's not the great thing."

"There's tarts, and then there's those." He frowns. "I did think you were talking about selection. But yeah, there is something to be said for another voice once in a while. I"m pretty okay with quiet. You been solo the whole time you've been at Citadel? No steady casual fucks on the side?"

Chuckling as he shakes his head, Chace takes another long drink, throat still scratchy. "It's not the random quiet so much as..." he pauses for a moment, "at work, I see what it could be, then I go home and know it isn't." He turns his eyes to Mark with a grin and a shake of his head. "Not many. Most guys don't like the idea of sharing even a casual fling with who knows how many others."

"What could it be, but isn't?"

Chace's eyes darken some as he contemplates the results of a generic 'nothing' answer and wonders just what Mark's punishments are for a non-answer answer. "Belonging to someone," he finally says after a much too long silence. "I'd thought I had it with my first lover, but he couldn't get to where I knew I needed even then." Pushing up just a bit, he groans then faces Mark. "I don't mean belonging for the hour or the night that they pay for at the club, I mean...really belonging."

"You mean owned."

He's heard of the men that are few on words and it seems Mark has become one. Yet, Chace wonders to himself just how such few words can cause him to fidget and grow as nervous as he is. Then again, it's not a topic he usually talks about. "Yes Sir," he says with a short nod. "Owned, not just...rented."

"Have you thought about what that means, being owned?. A lot of ways that can go." Mark looks down at his glass, but keeps his attention on the boy. "A lot of ways it means. You'd have to be sure you and him had the same idea. Can you even verbalize what you want?"

Can he verbalize it? That's a bit like asking a priest if he can recite a passage in the bible. "I've had years to think on it," he says bluntly. "It means giving everything you are, or will be, over to another that you trust implicitly to take care of your needs. To let them take you and guide you into an area where you can please them and tend to them. If they love you down the line, then it's a bonus."

Mark nods to himself, then drains his beer. "That is a very definate and clear plan. I wish you luck. Hope you find him." He stretches again, cursing at the loud pop his back gives. "Might have to wait til tomorrow for that massage. Get it before I drive you to the airport."

Chace winces as he hears the loud crack from the other's back, scolding himself for not seeing to it sooner. "Thank you, I hope so too. Are you sure though on the massage, Sir? It's not a problem, really."

"I saw that wince of yours when you moved on the couch. You're still hurting too. How good of a massage can you give like that?"

He pauses for a moment then lifts his arms over his head and back. "My arms 're fine, Sir. Just the skin on my back's a little tight, muscles 're sore, but I think I'm good if you don't mind me sitting straddle your hips."

Mark thinks for a second, then nods. "If you think you can." He stands up, setting his beer down on the table. "There's a spare bedroom halfway down the hall. You set up while I take a shower. There should be something you can use in the bathroom. Think Steph gave me something last Christmas." He walks to his room, strips then gets in the shower. He lets the water run hot over him before reaching for the shampoo.

"Yes Sir, I'll be ready." He stares after Mark for a moment, trying to get a bead on the man and the questions then finally stands and makes his way to the bedroom. It takes a bit to find the oil and, after sniffing it, goes to hunting for another bottle. "Maybe the scent changed over time," he mumbles to himself as he finds a large towel, a couple of hand towels and... "Ah ha!" Another bottle of oil literally falls out of the cabinet at him - musky but not too bad. "Actually smells nice, sorta fits him." In no time, he's set up and kneeling on the bed to wait.

Mark takes the shower a little quicker than usual. Killing the water, he dries himself off before wrapping the towel around his waist and walking to the bedroom. "Okay, how do you want me? I mean, I know on my stomach but half the time I'm too tired to much notice how I'm laid out beyond that."

Chace has moved the pillows out of the way and is kneeling to the side as Mark comes in. "However you're comfy, Sir. Hands to the side of your head or arms folded under, either way." He tries not to stare - he honestly does - but there's just something about the man that almost commands that you look at him. The fact that he's naked only heightens that. "Once you're down, I'll put the pillow under your legs."

Nodding, Mark lays on the bed. He tries his hands by his head, then settles for them under it. He straigthens out the towel as best he can reach, then nods. "Okay. I"m good."

With Mark settled, Chace lifts his feet and slides a pillow under them. "Keeps your back and knees more relaxed," he says as he moves up then slowly straddles Mark's hips, making sure to keep his weight well away from the man's lower back. "Just relax and keep breathing," he says, voice dropping a level to a tone he learned while in training. Squeezing out a bit of the oil into his hands and rubbing them together, he then presses his palms to the other man's back and begins to work.

Mark has never been able to keep from tensing up when he first gets a massage. It's become a joke with the company trainers. This time the feel of the weight on him adds to it. Forcing a deep breath, he closes his eyes and relaxes himself. Soon he's groaning as he feels his muscles responding to the massage. Another deep breath as another part responds as well.

Chace feels Mark tense but continues to work, his own breathing slowing as he finds himself getting lost in the act of working at every little knot and tense spot he can find. When he feels Mark shift under him, he pauses for a split second then continues. "You're okay, Sir?" he asks as the heels of his hands find Mark's shoulders. "Not too hard?"

"Define too hard." Chuckling, he looks up at the boy. "You? No, you're fine. Me is another matter. Keep going." Lowering his head, he brings his arms to his sides and closes his eyes again. He blanks out his mind, letting himself just feel each movement.

Head cocking to the side in confusion at the words, Chace grins though as Mark chuckles and he decides he likes the sound. "Long as it feels good, Sir." His thumbs find the area just to each side of Mark's spine and he slides down to push back up toward the man's neck, using his own weight to sink into the movement. He's a trained massage therapist, he's not supposed to get aroused when giving a massage; the only problem being that he's not usually straddle the person he's working on.

Mark groans as the boy works up his spine. He can feel his back loosening up and everything relaxing. Well, almost relaxing. Pretending to adjust the towel, his hips thrust up against the boy and he hides his smile at finding him hard as well. "Just a second. Didn't make you lose your place, did I?"

The thrust upward from Mark's hips sends a jolt of pure pleasure through Chace at the pressure in his balls and cock. "Mmm, no Sir, you di'nt, still have my place." Chace sits back a bit, however, his eyes on Mark's form, admiring the build of the man. "Is there some place that needs special attention, Sir?"

"My chest feels a little tight. Legs too." He turns his head to look at the boy. "Should I turn over now?" He brings his arms over his head and stretches, arching his ass up just a little. Another groan as his back pops.

As hard as he is, Chace has no doubt that coming on this man's skin would likely be one of the biggest mistakes he could make in his entire life; he likes his cock attached, thanks. "Yes Sir, that'll work," he says as he pushes up and to the side to allow Mark to roll onto his back, using the chance to add more oil to his hands.

Mark shifts til he's on his back. He lets the towel come undone as he moves and is just covered by it when he's settled. Bringing his hands behind his head, his eyes half close but not before looking at the boy's cock. "Chest first, then legs."

"Of course, Sir," he says as his voice goes just a bit deeper. There's absolutely no denying that the man has an amazing body - there's also no denying that Mark could break him in half if the mind came to. Straddling Mark once more, Chace settles down then leans forward and, as his hands move over Mark's chest, his ass moves over the barely-covered cock under him.

Slowly, Mark moves his legs, forcing the boy's legs apart and more of his weight to settle on him. "My neck needs a little work. But keep where you are." He tilts his head back, arms moving to his sides again. He waits til the boy reaches for his neck then opens his legs more.

Chace can feel the spread of his legs as Mark's legs force his own wider and he fights the moan that threatens to leave his throat. "Your neck. Yes Sir, stay...stay..." Chace's arms stretch outward as he keeps his hips steady, groaning lewdly as he feels the head of Mark's cock push against him. "Ohh Sir, yess."

One hand comes up behind the boy to grab him by the hair and force him into a hard kiss. The other reaches to the nightstand drawer for clips for the cuffs. Sitting up, Mark takes the boy's hands and locks them to his ankle cuffs. Pushing the towel away, he grabs a condom and lube from the drawer. Catching the boy in another kiss, he grabs him by the waist and slowly lowers him onto his cock. Mark waits for a moment then begins to pound into the boy, his nails leaving red trails over the boy's skin.

He doesn't fight, but Chace's eyes widen as he realizes the position Mark's putting him in - there's no way to brace himself or slow the fucking he knows is coming. The kiss all but takes his breath and what it leaves, the push into him steals away. "Aghhgod, yess Sir!" Chace's cock throbs as Mark thrusts up into him, his body opening to accommodate as he struggles to keep his balance, impaled on Mark's cock.

"I want to thank you, boy. A very good massage. I thought I would have to wait to do more to you. Now, I have new ideas for you. One more day, huh?" Chuckling, Mark yanks the boy's head back as he leans to whisper in his ear. "You will need all that time off to recover. I promise you." His teeth graze over the boy's shoulder as the other hand grabs his balls. "If you beg well enough, you might get to come. You can start after I do."

"Your welcome, Sir, ohhhgod, wel..." Chace's entire body and mind seems to freeze at the whisper from Mark and he knows, without fail, that Mark means what he says. The groan that leaves his lips from the hand in his hair stops short, turning into a squeaked-out yelp as his balls are squeezed tight. "Yes Sir," Chace chokes out as he tries to garner a breath between the vice around his sack and the cock in his ass, "thank you."

"You can thank me afterward. If you can still talk."

Mark Callaway and Chace Crawford -Chance Meeting

Wed, 15 Jul 2009 03:31:59 GMT

[Warning: suspension, flogging, clothespin zipper]
[crossposted to chace_c]

How is it that most of the boys around Citadel leave their sessions relaxed and on highs from endorphins that seem to last for hours? Chace isn't most boys. His sessions, except for the sparse few, seem to leave him more than just a little on edge - this last one, more than normal. His last scheduled appointment for the day is finished and Chace makes his way to the bar, grumbling to himself as he orders a vodka and Red Bull. "They pay to come here," he mumbles, "pick up a flogger like they've got an idea to use it...like to smack him upside the head with the handle, rattle that brain loose. Give him a clue." Chace has had a few accidental injuries over the short time he's actually been a Citadel House boy, but never in all this time has he actually witnessed an idiot client injuring himself with a toy.

"Thanks," he says with a quirky grin to the bartender, tips the man then finds a stool a bit farther down.

"You have got to be kidding me! Nothing til almost morning!? All right, fine. Whatever." Mark fights the urge to throw his cell phone. His flight back home had been delayed indefinately and nothing else was available. "It's the fucking summer! How can you get delayed flights?"

Taking a moment, Mark forces himself to relax. At least he was at one of the Houses instead of stuck at the airport. "Maybe rent a room, catch some sleep. Do I want a boy?" Thinking to himself, he makes his way to the bar. "A beer and two shots of Jack."

Snagging himself a bag of pretzels from behind the bar, Chace drops the money down to pay for them then tears into the bag. Comfort food - a sad, pathetic alternative for what should be at least a short time of calm for him. "How can someone injure their own self with a fuckin' toy? Do they not screen these people at all?" Still mumbling to himself, Chace laughs as the image of the man flashes into his head. The poor guy seemed so stunned that the tails had snapped back to catch him in the face. "Idiot," he chuckles out.

"Excuse me?" Mark looks over at who spoke. A House boy from the looks of it. He stares harder, something about him looking familiar. "Were you talking to me?"

Chace freezes, shocked that someone answered him, then looks around to see where the voice comes from. It's then his chin hits the bar and his stomach lands somewhere around his feet. Oh fucking hell. "Sorry, that...uhm, no. That wasn't at you." Chace never got the man's name the time he rented him, but you don't forget someone that towers over you when you're six foot yourself. "It was at the last client," he laughs out.

"Last client, huh?" Mark slams down one of the shots before looking back at the boy. "Was it...you were three months ago. But not at this House I don't think. Yeah, I remember you now. You took the pain well. Very well." He frowns, eyes going up and down. "You just had a client? How the hell you standing?"

Nodding to the man that now looms over him like a building, Chace looks up with a slight grin. "Yeah, that was me, and thanks." The next questions actually pull a full-on laugh from Chace before he takes a swig of his drink. "That's sorta my question, ya know?" He knows he shouldn't talk about one client with another, but fuck it. "Guy goes to take a flogger to me? Eight lashes in ends up hitting himself in the face with the falls." The snickering begins again; they really should have a 'Doofus of the Year Award'.

"Oh Jesus." Mark rolls his eyes. "There are times when I wonder about who they let in here. That's why I never go into the public room. Idiots hurting themselves more then they're hurting whoever they're working on." Shaking his head, he slams back the second shot. "Hope you got another hire scheduled."

Chace gives a frustrated sigh as he takes another drink then, grimacing at the taste of the watered-down beverage, shoves it backward. "Sadly, was the last appointment for the day. Wasn't prepared for the last one of the day to leave the guy that rented me in tears, was sorta hoping that'd be my role at the end. I mean, who the hell lets a flogger come back like that?"

"It is a wonder." Mark thinks back to when he had the boy. "Your tears are not to be missed, boy. Neither are your screams. You more than made the grade that night. I kept meaning to hire you again, but I haven't gotten back to that House. When did you transfer here?"

Made the grade? The compliment brings a flush of color to Chace's face, after all it's quite a task to impress someone that looks like they could have their own zip code. "Thank you," he says, a cheeky grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, "but the sounds produced depend a lot on the one pulling them out of me." Shaking his head, he snags a pretzel from the bag, "Just a couple weeks back. I guess I hoped I'd find something here."

"Yeah, you would think here there would be some real action. Guess it's the off season for it. Boy I had..." Mark shrugs, "off night for everyone. I'll have to hit the one near home, see if any of my regulars are there. He hit himself in the face? How the fuck you even do that?"

Chace can't help but look at the man's hands, blocking the moan as he remembers the skill they hold. "Oh," he says as he takes a deep breath, "some sessions are good. Just sucks the bad ones really overshadow the good ones." The look on the guy's face brings another laugh, "I have no idea! I'm just settling in, next thing I know, the guy's crying behind me!"

"Guy like that, can just ruin a good boy. Shouldn't be anywhere near them. If you can't make the boy cry for mercy, you just plain shouldn't be there. You should be in pain right now. Afraid to move cause of how much it hurts." Mark's voice slowly turns into an almost growl. "You should be too sore from getting fucked to be sitting."

The more the man talks, the tighter Chace's muscles become until the pretzel rod in his hand snaps, sending shards spraying across the top of the bar. The sound only just barely takes away from the gasp that leaves his lips. It's just not fair, then when is life fair. He leaves a relationship where he was a boy for a very sweet guy to join Citadel and still ends up with guys renting his time that end up crying while someone like this sits beside him in the bar. "Yeah," he says a bit breathlessly, "I remember after you got me."

Mark pretends not to notice the pretzel snapping, but his eyes are even more on the boy as he drinks. "What do you remember from then?" Maybe there will be a boy tonight. He had the boy put on his preferred list after the session. He gave a brief thought to another boy he had recently, young like this one but blonde. It was good to know there were still some good boys left at Citadel. "How were you hurting?"

The brilliant crimson returns to his face as he fights to not fidget, pants suddenly tight. "Remember how well you controlled the scene, the whip you chose. And the marks you left on me." The pants are no longer simply 'just tight', they're becoming painful and Chace is quickly growing to wish he'd put on sweats instead of tight jeans. He may not be in scene but there's just something about this one, and his eyes lower slightly. "You know how to deal out beautiful pain and, if I may say," he grins, eyes darting to the man's groin, "endowed enough to do just that."

"That part was just luck, boy. The rest," a hand jerks out and grabs the boy by his hair, "is earned." Mark pulls the boy closer, free hand groping him through the pants. "That and you make people want to hurt you. Want to see tears running down your face. Put you through your paces. Make you hurt. You should have a collar on, lead you around by it." The hand comes up, finger sliding over the boy's neck. "Next time I'll have to use one."

"Unghfuck!" The grunt leaves him in a hard breath as the man's fingers find his hair and he's drawn closer. If his pants weren't tight before, they are now and Chace's foot begins a mad cadence against the floor as the man's words and touch wash over him like a tidal wave, dragging him down - he goes willingly. The hand at his throat causes his breath to stop, just for a moment, as he stares upward into his heaven. "Would be more than willing to be on a leash for you...give you my tears."

"When is your next appointment tomorrow? I just-Fuck." Mark curses as he picks up his phone and reads the text. "You're kidding me." He thinks for a moment, tapping the phone on the bar. Fuck it. Why not? "You okay to go offsite? Quick run?"

Offsite - outta state - out of the country; at this point, with the man's grip tightening on him like it is, Chace would agree to damn near anything, particularly with the frustration from the previous appointment still there. "Yeah, 'm good. Uh, what do I call you?"

Mark catches the boy in a brutal kiss. "You're not going to have time for words, boy. I'm hiring you for a day. Vince just offered me the company plane, and you don't refuse that offer. Make whatever arrangements you have to. Here's my card. You got ten minutes."

Ten minutes? The man wouldn't turn down the use of a plane and there's no way in hell Chace is turning down whatever sort of night the guy's offering. He doesn't take the card but, with a grin, stands and walks behind the bar, grabs his bag, returns, then smiles back. "Am off tomorrow. And didn't need ten minutes." He's got his phone, change of clothes and wallet in the bag - he's good to go.

Mark smiles as he dials for the Citadel car to take them to the airport. "A boy who's prepared. Always good." He snaps the phone shut and finishes the beer. "The bitch of it is, have to wait til get back home to really do anything to you. Linda and Stephanie use the plane too. But I'm sure I'll come up with something." His smile turns wicked as he grabs the boy again. "Pretty sure I have some rope in my suitcase."

Chace chuckles at the words, "Well, not so much as prepared for a plane ride as I was for hitting the gym then dinner." Women? There's going to be women on the plane? Chace knows it shouldn't matter, but it really does. The only problem is that at the mention of rope, he forgets momentarily exactly what it is he's supposed to be concerned with. "Linda and Stephanie? They're your...uhm, family?"

Mark laughs. "I've known them long enough for them to be. Nope, Linda is one of my bosses and Steph's her daughter. Not my boss yet. If it was just Vince who used it, that'd be different. But them two are special. And not even talking about Rose. The best thing Paul ever did."

Blushing slightly at the mistake, Chace nods as if he understands who the names actually are that the man rattles off; he may not know right now, but it sounds as if he's about to find out. "They let you use the plane often?" He asks then pauses, "Rope, huh? Oh, need to let 'em know where I'm headed." Chace gives a wicked little grin, "Should I be askin' off the day after tomorrow?"

"They're usually too busy using it themselves." Mark throws the money on the bar. "That might be in your best interest. I'll tell the main desk on the way out." His phone rings. "Hello? Alright, be there in a little bit." He hangs up, eyebrow raising. "You ready boy?"

Chace looks up, and up, and even farther up - just how tall is this man anyway? "I'll let 'em know when we stop at the desk to bump my day off to the next day." He listens intently as the man speaks to whoever it is on the other end of the line, then, in the blink of an eye, and just as easily, he nods as his eyes lower. "Yes Sir, ready."

Mark nods in approval as the boy's gaze falls. "That will work." He growls as he grabs the boy by the neck, bringing him closer. "I'm going to tie you tight with that rope of mine, boy. You're going to remind me of your limits and safeword. And when we get back to my place..." He gives an evil laughs and drags the boy behind him as he leaves the bar.

The yelp that leaves him as a hand the size of a dinner plate grabs him sounds more startled girl than Cit boy, but that yelp quickly turns to a moan as the words sink in and Chace's hand grips his bag strap tight enough that knuckles go white. The plane ride will be good to let the man in on limits and his safeword, as well as possibly remind himself how to breathe, and he follows behind the man as they leave, the wicked laugh still ringing in his ears.

Mark pulls his truck onto the driveway and turns it off. He can hear his dogs barking for him from inside the house. They're not going to like that he brought someone home. Good thing there's no one else for miles around, no one to be bothered with the noise. He takes a minute to just enjoy the quiet, then with a chuckle he gets out of the cab. Grabbing the bags, he stretches before turning to the boy tied spread eagled and naked in the bed. "Now, I counted four semis telling me they enjoyed the view. Was that how many you heard?"

Chace had never expected his ride to the man's home to be such an adventure, if that's what you could call it. He's only thankful it isn't too hot or too cold and that at least the passing cars had no clue he was there, that hadn't helped the tractor-trailer rigs from blowing air horns or tooting at them as the passed by. Chace had spent the better part of the ride with his eyes closed and head turned just as far to the side as possible, only looking up as the truck stops and he hears the man exit and speak. "Yes Sir," he chokes out, "sounds right, Sir." Hell if he's going to argue!

"It is a great night for driving." He reaches down and unties one of the boy's wrists. "I have your stuff. It'll be locked in the front closet. Get yourself loose while I deal with the dogs. Want you presenting out on the front porch when I get back." With a chuckle he turns and enters the house.

His back aches from the drive, granted it's not a shabby truck by any means, but riding on one's back isn't the best way to travel, but he looks up as he's spoken to and nods. His things are going to be locked up? But that means...his wallet and ID and... "Yes Sir," he murmurs then begins to untie himself, but as the man walks off it hits Chace - front porch? "Sir? What...wait, uhm...fuck." He pushes up from the truck, peeking out just barely over the bed before making a mad dash to the porch. Oh, this isn't good, this isn't good at all - his cock, however, believes otherwise.

Mark throws the boy's bag into the closet before turning to his two dogs. He rough houses with them as he walks thru the house to let them out back. He stops off in the kitchen for a drink of water before coming back to the door. He looks down at the boy as he leans in the doorway. "You enter this place, your ass is mine however I want. Don't worry, I'll keep to your limits." He steps to one side to let the boy enter.

As the door opens, Chace jumps in his spot on the porch then looks upward as the man speaks to him. There's a very large part of him that's absolutely terrified - he remembers the intensity of this man, his power and he can't help but wonder just how that intensity will magnify with the man on his own home turf - it's the other part, however, that Chace listens to. "I'm not leaving, Sir," he says with a quiet but steady voice as he leans forward to hands and knees then crawls through the door.

Mark waits til the boy clears the doorway, then slams it shut behind him. He locks it, then wraps his arm around the boy's throat and yanks him up. "Good choice." He carries him down the hall into the last room and throws him onto the floor. "Grab those cuffs and put them on. You'll be wearing them the whole time you're here."

It's not as if struggling against the strength of the other man will do any good, but as the door's slammed behind him and he's nearly lifted off his feet by his throat, Chace can't help but struggle. "Sir, where..." before the rest of the grunted out words leave his mouth, Chace drops to the floor, landing with a harder than expected 'thud'. "Yes Sir," he pants out, one hand rubbing his ass, the other reaching for the cuffs. They don't look so bad and, with just a bit of struggle, he gets them on, straightening the padding against his skin.

Mark walks around the boy as he puts on the cuffs. The struggle on the way to the room was a good sign as far as he was concerned. Some fight in a boy made it more interesting. Boys too concerned with being 'perfect', like the last one he brought here that just hung there when he did the same thing bored him. But this one was good so far. "And one thing I promised." He walks over to a chest of drawers and takes out a collar with three rings on it. "Put that on."

Chace may be trained to be a Citadel boy, that doesn't, by any stretch, mean he's going to simply go limp, not unless the person buying his time explicitly tells him to and even then, it's a constant struggle for him. As Mark moves so does Chace, turning as he watches the man circle him and feeling very much like the prey to the approaching lion. "A collar, Sir?" Chace eyes the leather and the rings but doesn't move to take it. "Seems Sir would want to put that on me himself." Oh no, there's no cocky tone in his voice - not at all.

Mark chuckles to himself, shaking his head as he scratches his cheek. Without warning he grabs the boy and shoves him against the wall at his eye level. "I'm sorry?" His voice lowers to a growl. "I put collars on things that matter to me. Like those dogs I know you heard when we drove up. Those dogs mean something to me. You don't that much. Now, you gonna put that collar on yourself, or do I send you back, maybe with your clothes?"

"Ugh!" Chace's breath leaves him and he suddenly realizes that his feet aren't touching and it occurs to him that, no, it's definitely not a good idea to piss off the mountain of a man. Struggling against the man's hold on him, he finally goes still as he sees getting free at the moment isn't an option. "Sorry Sir, 's just that most like that...they like putting it on me." Reaching out, eyes still on Mark's face, his fingers find the collar in the man's hand. "I'll put it on, Sir. You don't need to send me back."

"You're learning, boy. There is hope for you yet." Mark lets go of the collar a second before letting go of the boy. Stepping back, he pulls his shirt off and drops it on the floor as he goes to the chest of drawers. "Now, where did I put that..." His eyes travel around the room, stopping as he sees the spreader bars. Nodding, he goes back to looking through the drawers.

"Thank you, Sir." He hopes that's a good thing, at least that's the thought in his mind until he suddenly feels his body drop and his fingers clutch at the collar. It takes him a moment to convince his fingers to work properly, but soon the collar is around his neck and he's working on getting it fastened. His eyes, however, are on the man that seems to be on the hunt for something. "Sir, uhm...it's on. Where do you want me?" Unless he's told otherwise, this wall looks very good to lean up against.

"Center of the room, on your knees. Hands behind your head, legs spread wide as they go. Leaning forward, ass up. I'll be with you," another chuckle, "soon." Mark keeps his back to the boy, but watches him on the small mirror hanging on the wall. "Eyes closed." He lays out an O-ring, clips to hook to the cuffs, some good old clothespins with a smile, and nipple clamps. Start out easy, then work up.

Well, so much for leaning up against the wall. Why can't anyone ever choose to have him just relax on the bed or something? Oh yeah, had that and left it. "Center of the room and eyes closed. A'right Sir." Feeling a bit like a strange pretzel as he gets into position, Chace pokes his ass upward as he rests on his elbows and link his fingers behind his head. Okay, he's upside down, but Chace finds out that, if he looks through his legs at just the right angle, he can try to see what the other man's up to.

"What did I say about those eyes? You must think I'm like that idiot you had last. And I didn't say anything about your elbows on the ground. Want them up and out to the sides." Mark sighs and shakes his head. A stubborn boy. Just his luck. Well, only one thing to do with that kind.

He can see me?! Fuck! Chace's eyes slam shut as his elbows, almost too quickly, move up and out and his cheek hits the floor. Note to self - go slower next time! "Sorry Sir, 'm sorry, wasn't meaning to disobey." Oh yeah, annoying the man who has his belongings is not the best thing in the world to do.

"I must not be making myself clear. It can happen, thinking ahead of how I'm speaking. Start getting ideas and such." Mark walks over to the boy, grabbing his hair and yanking his head up off the floor. "Arching your back will help. Now hold there, just like that." Letting go, he walks over the spreader bar, tapping it on the floor as he returns to the drawers.

"No Sir, you were fine, you did okay, it was just meeaahh!" Chace's head snaps up, eyes clamping tight shut to at least continue to obey that order. "Yes Sir, yes. I'll hold it." The position is more than just a bit strange and it doesn't take long before his back muscles begin to scream in protest. His breathing pauses at the sound he hears as he immediately begins to try and place the rattle of metal.

"Yes you will." Mark smiles to himself. He takes a few more things out of a drawer, letting the time drag as he watches the boy. "You can put your head down now." Another tap of the bar and Mark's behind the boy. He yanks his ankles out and attaches them to the bar. Another second and the boy's hands are locked to the collar. Standing back up, he pulls on the chain hanging from the ceiling and hooks it onto the bar. He slowly brings the boy up, not letting him hit the ground too bad.

Chace's face turns to a mask of pain as his muscles spasm from the tension it takes to hold the position he's been placed in. When Mark speaks, Chace immediately drops his head as he thanks the man - that is until his stomach hits the floor as his legs are yanked backward. More clanging and he feels himself being attached to what he now knows is a spreader bar, but it's the fact that his wrists are secured to the collar that stuns him and he catches himself just before his eyes open. "Sir? What..." Lifted?! He's lifting me? Chace struggles against the bar but finds the hold tight. "Sir, please! I'll be still, Sir...you don't have to lift me."

"This ain't about having to, boy." Mark grabs the boy by the hair again and lifts his head up. "It's about wanting to." Letting go, he locks the chain and takes up a flogger hanging on the wall. "And don't worry about trying to keep still. You're going to swing around anyway." The first blows land on the boy's thighs, the tails wrapping around his legs before they're yanked back.

Keeping still, Chace knows, wouldn't be an option for him unless the man actually chained him to a wall, and even then it would be hard to do. His mind flashes back to the last time and, though he can't see what's coming, he has no doubt that this man will pull every scream and tear out that Chace has to give. "Yes Sir, thank you. I aghhfuck!" The sting comes as such a shock that he does move then, body jerking against the pain.

Mark keeps the blows even, letting them fall wherever as the boy slowly turns. He only takes care to not let any land on the boy's face or his cock. The blows start to fall harder, reddening the boy's skin more and more. Waiting til one of the spins faces him away, Mark brings the flogger down hard between the boy's legs, stepping back so only the tips of the tails land on his cock.

Chace's cries begin to turn to moans and grunts as the flogger drives him deeper and the spinning and jerking of whatever it is holding him up seems to have more of a hypnotic sway than he could have imagined. He can feel the heat as the welts slowly begin to take form - lines tracing hip bones and muscles - and he wonders, wanting so badly to see, what he looks like. That thought leaves as the flogger's falls land, tips striking hard against the head of his cock. "Sir! AGHFUCK! Fuck...yessss..."

Two more times Mark lets the flogger land on the boy's cock before dropping it to the floor. Smiling he lets his hands run over the body in front of him, feeling the heat. Then his hand falls hard onto the boy's ass as the other swats at his cock. Now and then they move to hit open handed on the boy's back and chest before returning.

There's not a thought in his mind of using his safeword with this man but that doesn't stop the screams of pain as the flogger lands against his cock. He didn't understand why his hands were secured to the collar until the sound of the flogger hitting the floor reaches his ears and the first hit to his cock lands. Tears stream from his eyes as each blow lands but the cries and screams grow muffled as they become grunted groans and mumbled words that match each jerk and sway of his body. "Sir, please, please...hurts, ohh...please...please yesss."

Stepping away, Mark raises the chain again. Grabbing the O-ring, he forces it into the boy's mouth. With a smile he takes up the clothespins and a long black cord. "Tell me, boy. How are you regarding..." He waves the items in front of the boy's face.

The position's more than strange - the swaying of the chain making the room spin slightly - and the addition of the ring gag being forced into his mouth only seems to disorient him further for some reason. Chace stares at the items in the man's hands, trying to tip his head just enough to get a good look and, as he does, a low moan leaves him. "Yes Sir, please. Want that, please let me have that, Sir." Staring at the items, Chace knows exactly what's in the man's mind and he loves it.

Mark stands up, moving to the dresser to thread the cord through the clothespins. "Twenty should do it this time." Walking back, he attaches them one by one to the boy's thighs, ten on the inside of each. He watches as the boy reacts to the pain before unfastening his jeans and pulling his cock out. Grabbing the boy's hair, he thrusts inside the waiting mouth and fucks his face.

With his hands secured as they are, there's no way for Chace to even think about blocking the clamps - not that he would if he could - he's given himself over to this man for the time being. Thoughts flood in on him as the pain settles in and he makes up his mind that, upon return to Citadel, he's going into training for a three-stripe - this pain is what he needs. His groans deepen as each clothes pin is applied and he knows, as he sees the man's pants unzip, that swallowing is the least of his worries. A deep breath and then nothing as cock fills his throat and sounds of gurgled moans fill the room.

By rights he should draw this out, make the boy suffer. But his thoughts during the plane ride and the drive home had already worn his control down before he had even started. His hands grip the boy's waist hard enough to bruise as his head falls back. Quiet curses come from his lips as he feels his orgasm building. Breath quickening, he freezes for a split second, then grabs each end of the cord and yanks the clothespins off as he shoots down the boy's throat.

There's a mix of pre-come and saliva that coat his cheeks and forehead as the man pushes into his throat, allowing him little bursts of air with every withdrawal. Chace is beyond headspace - beyond whatever it was they taught him to feel or do in Citadel training - he's on pure instinct now, instincts that tell him to make sure, at all cost, that this man finds his pleasure. A choked groan leaves him as he screams out around Mark's cock in his throat, struggling to swallow as it feels like the flesh is being torn from the inside of his thighs.

Mark lets the cord land onto the floor, leaning for a second against the boy before falling back. He rests for a moment against the wall, regaining his composure. Taking a deep breath, he goes and lowers the boy onto the floor. "Let me know when your legs finish waking back up."

Coughing and sputtering as Mark pulls from his mouth, Chace tries desperately to swallow in the upside-down position without choking completely - gravity working against him. As he feels himself being lowered, Chace twists around to find the man who still has him bound. "Yes Sir," he chokes out, still trying to gain his breath. It's yet to occur to him that his face is coated in a thin layer of come and spit. Within moment, Chace lets out a deep cry as his feet kick out; he hates the feeling when the blood rushes back.

Mark undoes the ankles cuff and checks the boy's legs for damage before fastening them again. Finding only the expected marks, he goes into the adjoining bathroom and cleans himself off. Walking back to the boy as he pushes his cock back into his jeans and buttons them, he unhooks the wrist cuffs and takes off the collar. "Clean up. I'll get us something to eat." A small slap to the hip, then he leaves.

Chace doesn't move as Mark leaves the room to clean up, nor does he fight or struggle as the man inspects his legs and unhooks the cuffs but, at the tap to marked flesh, he jumps and looks upward. "Yes Sir, thank you." There's no way in hell he trusts his legs to stand so, crawling, he makes his way to the bathroom in slow, careful strides. Once in the room, he stares at a washcloth then opts for a very quick but thorough shower, keeping the cuffs dry as possible. It's not until he emerges, however, that he realizes he has no clothes.

Mark grabs a beer for himself and a coke for the boy before starting to make some sandwiches. After a bit he hears the boy making his way down the hall. "Hope you remembered to bring a towel, boy! No way you're sitting bare assed on my chairs!"

Looking down at his hips and the towel that's wrapped around them, Chace laughs. He'd realized something the moment he'd tried to secure the towel around him - big men have very big towels. This is evidenced by the fact the thing wraps around his slender hips nearly twice. "No Sir, I've got a towel 'round my hips." His mama would come back from the grave and smack him upside the head were he to sit on furniture butt naked with nothing under him.

A new boy tried

Mon, 29 Jun 2009 07:32:34 GMT

(cross posted to cit_travis)

Warning: CBT, Breath play, Humiliation

His preferred layout was on record, but he always give it a once over anyway. Something missing was their fault, but him not knowing it til he reached for that item was his. Nodding to himself, he settles in the chair directly across from the door and waits for the new boy to arrive.

Skin still slightly warm and moist from his shower, Travis makes his way to the room. It's a new client - or at least new to him - and he's as nervous as he is excited. There's something about the unknown that always revs him up just a bit more than walking into a room where he knows exactly what will happen, and when. Travis knocks lightly then steps through the door, closing it behind him before taking two steps in and sinking to his knees, eyes lowered and head head high.

Mark lets the moment draw out, studying the boy. Not bad, the usual Citadel standards. Now let's see if he's up to adding to the dance card. "Over here now, boy!"

As a house boy, few things ever actually give Travis pause - the man's voice is now added to that list. Slipping forward, he begins to crawl toward the other man and, chancing a glance upward, spies a set of some of the largest legs he's ever seen. Coming to a stop in front of the man, Travis sinks back to his knees. "Yes sir."

Without warning Mark's hand lunges out and grabs the boy by his throat. Fixing his hold, he slowly drags the boy up. This served two purposes. It let him see the boy up close and presents a problem. How does the boy manage to keep his eyes down, or does he risk the possibility that the Dom wants to see his eyes?

The hand finds his throat so quickly that, even would he have done so, there wasn't time to react other than a slight flail of arms as his body is basically lifted upward. It's already a definite in his mind that this man - this client - knows exactly what he wants. It's simply Travis' job now to figure out what that is and do his best to adhere to it. The hold, though it doesn't cut off air, is enough to have the Aussie's heart pounding, the pulse strong against the man's fingers, and Travis' dark lashes lift, blue eyes taking a quick glance upward. Bloody fucking hell. He knows now that he's obviously been rented by a giant.

A wide smile crosses Mark's face as he sees the boy look up. "Wrong choice." The face slap comes out of nowhere, his other hand letting go so that the boy falls to the ground. "Let's see if you can do better." In one motion he grabs the boy, picks him up, and throws him against the wall. It's only a few seconds later that the hands and feet are securely shackled and spread far apart. "Better tell me your safeword now, boy. You might not get much time for talking later."

"Ngh!" Letting out a grunted breath as a hand the size of a dinner plate connects with his face, Travis is falling before he can catch himself and what's left of his breath leaves him in a rush. Travis isn't short by any means but, as the man moves, it becomes clear that he towers over Travis by several inches. Beg or keep quiet? Before he can make the decision, he's thrown against the wall, hitting it like a rag doll. "Ungh! Sir, 's soda, sir. Soda." Blue eyes widen as he wonders just how a man so large moves so quickly as he finds himself shackled, muscles protesting the stretch.

"Soda, huh? Well, that's a new one." Mark leans against the wall next to the boy. "Let me tell you how it's going to be, boy. I'm going to give it and you're going to take it. I don't feel like playing around tonight. I should be home right now and instead got dragged into doing something for Vince. So you're going to be the stress relief. I'm going to work that ass of yours. I ain't gonna damage you, least not in any ways that's permanent. So let's get your limits out of the way, tell me one thing you like. Rest of this session, only thing I want coming outta your mouth is screaming."

Oh yes, definitely several inches taller than Travis is, and as this giant leans against the wall, Travis estimates the guy having a good two hundred pounds on him - at least. There's a given in the boys that work for Citadel - you don't do this job unless you love it, and Travis does. Even those scenes - actually, especially the scenes - like the one he's been sent into are enough to nearly drive him insane with sexual energy. His eyes stay lowered now; he won't make that mistake again, and even though he knows he's safe in the walls of Citadel he also knows there are many things that won't permanently damage a boy. "Floggers, sir."

Mark grabs the boy by his hair and yanks his head back. "You're really starting to disappoint me, boy. I said your limits. You're making me wonder if I'm wasting my time with you. I don't like wasting my time on worthless boys. Last chance."

"Beg your forgiveness, sir. Sir's not wasting his time." Focus! He's a mountain, but still a man. Right? Yeah, hopefully. Travis closes his eyes for the briefest of moments, fighting back the moan that wants to rise up. "Scat, certain water sports and no permanent marks, sir."

"Now see. Was that so hard?" Mark gives him a light tap on the face and lets go of his hair. Pushing off from the wall, he goes over to where the toys are. His hand skips over the flogger and moves directly to the bamboo cane. "A lesson about me, boy. It's better to pay attention." He spins around and smacks the boy on the legs right under his ass. "I'm feeling fifteen might work."

Travis doesn't answer the question, having no doubt that it's definitely rhetorical and answering would most likely result in another slap, then again, maybe that wouldn't be the most horrible thing in the world. He doesn't move or attempt to look back as the man moves away but presses closer to the wall, his already hard cock pushing hard against the wall. With the snap of the cane, Travis' head drops back and his eyes close as the moan he's been holding back finally breaks free. Fifteen is very, very good.

Mark keeps the blows steady but fast. This isn't the night to go fancy, that'll be for next time. If there is a next time with this one. After he lands the last strike, he grabs the lube and smears some on the cane. "Here, hold this for me." Spreading the boy's cheeks, he pushes the cane in only about an inch or so. "Don't have to tell you not to drop that, do I?" Picking up a heavy leather belt, Mark starts to whip the boy's ass.

The pain that begins so sharp and heavy slowly turns into something brimming of heat that fills Travis' body with an ache that he knows is a result of more than just the cane landing across his flesh. With every hit, his body jerks against the wall as low, grunted sounds leave parted lips but it's not until the last hit comes and Travis hears those words does his body tense up. He finds out exactly what it is the man wants him to hold and frantically realizes with no further than the thing's inside him, holding it there will prove near impossible. "No sir, this boy...aghh!" Muscles clench up as the next item lands on already marked flesh.

Only five strikes have landed when Mark gets an idea. Setting the belt time, he searches for the alligator clips with the extra long chains he saw earlier. Finding them, he moves over to the boy and works his hands between him and the wall. One end of each chain is attached to a nipple and before the boy can adjust, he stretches the chain down to attach the other ends to the boy's balls. The chains are just shy of letting the boy remain fully upright. Taking a moment to look him over, Mark picks the belt back up and begins again.

Crying out as the hits land, Travis barely gets enough time to even begin to sink down into the pain before it stops, the cessation of hits against his skin brings his eyes open and he tries to focus, look back, to see what's happening behind him. The tightness of his limbs against the wall prevents much movement and, as it turns out, it's not needed, since suddenly, hands are pushing between him and the wall. "Unghaagod, sir!" The clips bite into the tender skin, drawing his balls upward and his nipples down as the muscles in his stomach tighten against the position. Blue eyes suddenly fly open wide as he feels the cane slip; it's not free from his body, but there's definitely movement. Fuck! Fuck!

Mark sees the cane shift, but doesn't stop the blows. He lets a strike land every now and again on the boy's back, forcing him to pull on the chains. "You're doing good, boy. Making me rethink my opinion of ya. But we're far from done." Reaching for the flogger with his other hand, be begins alternating the strikes in a random pattern. He keeps his eyes on the cane to see how long the boy lasts.

His sounds alternate between cries of pain and moans of pleasure as he feels the welts begin to form on his skin, the belt landing to lay mark after mark over already ravaged skin. "Thank you, sir," he groans out through gritted teeth, using every amount of focus he has to keep the cane where he's been ordered to hold it. Travis knows, can feel the burn in his muscles, that with every hit, the cane slips more, preventing him from sinking down with the pain. The flogger lands again, its falls splaying across his backside and he cries out, eyes opening wide. "NO!" The cane slips free and he hears it hit the floor.

Mark stops as the cane drops. He tosses the belt and flogger down and walks over to the boy. "You lasted longer than I thought you would." His voice growls in the boy's ear. "But you didn't last long enough. There's going to have to be a punishment for that." His hands open the clips to remove them from his balls, but just yanks them off his nipples.

Travis knows that regardless of how long he'd been able to keep the cane in his ass it wouldn't have been long enough. He'd done all he could to keep the scant part of the cane inside him, but he'd failed and now it's time to take whatever punishment the man thinks he needs. Letting out a breath as he feels the clamps on his balls open, that relief doesn't last long. "Aghaa!" The clamp's teeth rip at his nipples as the chain is yanked free and he can't help trying to see if the sharp pain is simply shock to the skin or bloodied nipples.

Since he didn't think about using an O-ring, he has to find it. He pulls the boy's head back hard enough to make his neck pop and shoves the ring into his mouth. "The boy just made himself into a fuck toy." Freeing the boy from the wall, he drags him by his hair and drops him in front of the chair. Ropes tie his legs together, trapping his cock between them. Handcuffs keeps his wrists locked behind him. Mark undoes his jeans as he sits down, pulling out his cock. He strokes it as he reaches down and grabs the boy by the hair again, letting him see what's in store. "Don't worry. I'll listen real hard for your safeword. And if I miss it, well that mouth-to-mouth class just might come in handy." Without another word, he shoves his cock into the boy's mouth and begins to fuck his face.

"Nnnyaaa!" As his head is snapped back, Travis' eyes meet those of the man next to him and the shudder that races through him as the ring is violently shoved behind his teeth, he's sure is visible. Scrambling as he's freed from the wall, Travis does his best to stay up with the other's movements as he's pulled along, his tongue playing at the ring. Once again he's bound, the man making sure he won't protest or fight back and Travis groans out, trying to lean into his trapped cock - that is until his full attention falls to the man in front of him. Travis' cock isn't small by any standard, but what he sees there in front of him has him questioning, just for a moment, his ability in deepthroat. "Uhhh..." Travis barely has time to glance up before he's pulled forward and his air's suddenly taken from him through the force of a thick cock. "Nnnhnn!"

"Yeah, that's it. It's what you are, ain't it boy? Just a fuck toy. You just want to get used, don't ya fuck toy? Have a man not give a damn about your feelings. just use you and leave you there. Let people see what you've let be done to ya. I could do a lot to you and you'd beg me to do more, wouldn't you? I could even..." Mark thrusts his cock deep into the boy's throat while he pinches his nose close.

He can feel the mixture of pre-come and spit as it runs from the corners of his mouth, the ring not only keeping him from closing his mouth but also making it nearly impossible to swallow. There's no way to hide the way the man's words effect his cock as it throbs violently between his legs. The humiliation kink is definitely a double-edged sword - very few things can bring such concrete feelings from both ends of the spectrum; the man quickly finds another, however, as his fingers pinch Travis' nose tight. Hips buck forward as Travis struggles against the lack of air, blue eyes tearing up as he looks upward.

"Fuck yeah." Mark's eyes half close as he feels the pressure around the head of his cock. Just ten seconds more... three two one. Moving his hands away, he brings his boot up and shoves the boy onto his back. He spits on his chest, letting the boy lay there as he pushes his cock back into his jeans. Freeing the boy's legs, he pushes them back toward his chest. He reties them so the boy's cock is exposed. He chuckles as he bats at the half hard cock. "I knew it. Just a damn fuck toy." Taking a longer rope off the table, he ties it to the outside of one leg. Wrapping it snug around the boy's middle, he does the same to the other side. The rope forces the boy to keep his legs apart. Any attempt to close them will make the rope dig into his stomach.

With a wicked smile, Mark walks to the small sink in the adjoining bathroom and wets down the flogger. "I'm not sure how many this time. We'll just go with how it feels." Still smiling, he lands the first strike straight onto the boy's cock.

With the cock buried in his throat, Travis knows there's no way to gain air until the man allows it, and just as the room begins to spin, a gush of cold air hits his lungs and he's being shoved backward, landing on his back with a hard thud to drive out the air that he's just been lucky enough to draw in. Travis feels the wet spit hit his chest but, as he coughs and gasps for air, that's the last thing on his mind, especially as he's suddenly being manhandled - tied up like a turkey being prepared to be stuffed. Travis doesn't fight, even if he could manage to get his mind to the spot he would fight, he's not sure in that moment he's got the strength to do so.

When the man moves away finally and Travis hears water, his mind immediately goes to a place he hasn't experienced in ages, but as the man returns and Travis spies the dripping wet flogger, his mind goes slightly numb - just before the hit lands and his scream fills the room.

The blows land harder and faster then they have so far. Mark only takes care not to have any of the strikes land on the boy's face. Beyond that, anything goes. He flips the boy over with his foot and whips his back and sides before returning to the front. He also makes sure to lay the flogger over the boy's ass, the strands coming down hard on his exposed opening.

There's no time to gain a breath as the flogger lands over and over and Travis' cries and panted gasps fill the room around him, and through it all - through all the pain - his cock stays nearly rock hard, even as the welts begin to form on it and his tight puckered hole. He can feel the muscles clench tight as they try to protect the delicate tissue from the stinging leather falls, but as the flogger lands and one of the strands meets his hole with perfect precision, Travis' head comes up and a deep, pain-filled scream leaves him.

The scream is music to Mark's ears. He lets two more blows land in quick succession then drops the flogger. Pulling his cock back out, he takes the condom from the table and slips it on. A very thin layer of lube is next. The boy won't be torn up that much, but it'll feel like it. Leaving the boy tied and gagged, he rolls him onto his face and thrusts hard into him. His fingers dig into the boy's sides, soon leaving bruises. He pounds into the boy, seeking his own release even as his hand reaches down to grab the boy's cock, denying him his.

Travis' words and pleas fall in mumbled succession as he hears the flogger fall to the ground. At this point, he's not even completely sure if he's begging for the man to continue the abuse to his flesh or undo the binds that hold him and release him, giving his muscles time to relax. Even through his daze, Travis hears the wrapper open and knows what's next, remembering the size of the man's cock, he braces himself as he tries to relax. The idea comes too late and as he's rolled to his stomach, face pressing into the floor, he tries to sink down, let the pain take him - it doesn't work. "Unghaaaa!" Regardless of how much he tries, the man is good, keeping him just on the edge, not letting him slip into headspace.

Mark closes his eyes, head falling back as he can feel the sensations building up. He's close very close. Letting it drag out for a minute more, his hand darts out and grabs the boy's hair. Yanking him backwards, he growls in his ear. "Just a fuck toy. Just for me to use to get off and then throw away. All you are is a fuck toy. And you'll beg me to use you like that. Beg to be a nothing, a thing. Won't you?" Not waiting for an answer, Mark clamps his hand over the boy's nose and mouth.

It's moment like this, clients like the one that has him now, that make him remember why it is he remains a Citadel boy. With the man's hand clamped in his hair and those words echoing in Travis' ears, the Aussie's cock throbs between his legs to send silvery drops of liquid from the sore and welted head to the floor beneath him. Yes sir, his mind pushes out just as the large hand clamps over his nose and mouth, stealing his air once again and it's then that Travis' body nearly lets go, but in that moment he's a boy, the man's boy, and permission to come hasn't been given.

Mark's breath becomes ragged as he feels the boy struggling around his cock. Fuck...fuck..AAAAAHHHHH!" His whole body tightens as he shoots into the condom again and again. Drained, he sets the boy roughly down on the ground as he catches his breath. Pulling out of him with a groan, he waits a moment before managing to get his legs under himself to stand.

Travis hears the cries of pleasure from the man above him, feels the cock pulse inside his ravaged hole then the man pull free, leaving him moaning softly against the floor. As he feels the man behind him push to stand, he tries to look back then gives up, his eyes closing with the sound of footsteps leading away from him.

Taking a deep breath, Mark goes to the bathroom to wash himself and throw away the condom. A knock sounds at the door and a house medic walks in. "Good timing as usual." Mark splashes some water on his face as he finishes dressing. "He's not too bad off. Tomorrow or the next day would be my guess." He smiles down at the boy as he grabs his jacket. "See that he's put on my preferred list. And find out if he can travel." Mark kneels down next to the boy, rolling him over and giving him a light slap on the face. "You made the grade, boy." He stands up and walks toward the medic. "You can let him come when my bike reaches the main gate." Without a look back he leaves.

When the knock comes, Travis' eyes fly open as his mind frantically wonders if another has come to join the scene. Everything inside him relaxes as he hears the voice of the medic but, as the man nears him once more and bends down, Travis tenses up, feeling the hard pat to his cheek. He isn't sure what grade he made or preferred list he's being added to, but the man seems pleased, which means, if nothing else, Travis has done his job.

Pup/Mun Info

Tue, 23 Jun 2009 04:11:47 GMT

Name: Mark Callaway
Journal: mark_callaway
Mun name/nick/handle: Lexxy
Mun journal: darkenheart
AIM: LxeaCit
E-mail: Lexxy.lpaxas@gmail.com
When you can be reached and preferred method: Evenings, AIM
Other pups: Christian Kane chris_kane, Keanu Reeves k__reeves, Alexander Skarsgard alex_s, NPC Perttu Kivilaakso, NPC Wes Ramsey..
Pup's physical info: 6' 8", Black/Auburn hair, Green eyes, muscular build, several tattoos
Pup's birthday: March 26, 1962
Pup's location: TX/travels
Pup's orientation: Homo/Dom
Pup's kinks: Taking a boy so far down he just might never come back up. Fear, bloodletting, hard bondage, total discipline demanded.
Pup's hard limits: Subbing, necro, bestialty, kids, water sports.
Pup's soft limits: Women
Pup's safeword: Houston
Pup's hobbies: Riding his motorcycles, hanging out with his friends.
Game membership: Yes
Game occupation: Professional wrestler, sometimes actor
Game connections: None
Pup's bio: IMDb Bio intact except the marriages and kids never happened.
Mun Hard Limits: MPreg, last four of pup's
Mun Kinks: Inquire within.
Type of Characters Pup Likes: SAMs need not apply. Boys who know how to take the pain and follow the orders. You have to have enough experience and a brain. No twinks.
Play Situation: Available, but has insane schedule. Will need coordination.
Last Updated: 22-6-09