Bound by Lies (31 page)

“No problem,” Art nods.

“Absolutely,” Max echoes.

A short time later, Jenner and Brayden are up in his room, packing up some of Jenner’s things to move to the apartment, including all of the supplies for the cat.

“I can’t believe you named her Pussy. Or, well, I can,” Brayden smirks, shooting Jenner a sideways glance.

Jenner’s not smiling, though. He’s still on the defensive. “I want you to promise me that the first time you’re getting uncomfortable or they step out of line, you’ll tell me, immediately.”

“Yeah. Okay. I promise.”

“I’m serious.”

“I can tell. I get it. Okay. Yes.”

Jenner steps up to him. Wrapping Brayden’s golden hair in a fist, Jenner yanks gently on it. It forces Brayden’s head back slightly as Jenner leans down closer, breathing him in. He rubs up over the side of Brayden’s neck, chasing the touch with a scrape of his teeth then sucks a rough kiss just below Brayden’s ear. “Yes, what?”

“Yes
, Sir
,” Brayden moans. His eyes close over in delirious pleasure.

“It really is adorable when you get nervous like this.”

“I-I should go down there and help. It’s loud, and loud means customers. I can handle customers.”

“Lie down on the table.”

For a long minute, it’s a stand-off. Arms folded across the broad span of his chest, Jenner looks straight down at Brayden, who has to tilt his chin way up to meet Jenner’s gaze. When Brayden straightens up and tries to stretch his spine, even rolling his weight forward onto his toes to give himself an extra inch or so, Jenner visibly represses a smile.

Heart beating fast, all of his internal warning systems blaring, Brayden tries, “Don’t you have a business to run?”

“I gave you an order,” Jenner says with that cocky fucking grin, with the dimples. It makes Brayden frown. He shifts his weight again, onto his right leg, and tosses his hair back over his shoulder. The tip of his tongue snakes out, just touching the center of his upper lip. Jenner warns, “Stop procrastinating, bitch.”

“You said you were giving me a break,” Brayden reminds him, nodding once for emphasis when all Jenner does is glare with those dimples.

“Is this defiance?” Jenner scoffs, laughing softly, but from the corner of his eye, Brayden sees Jenner’s bicep jump as he flexes it threateningly.

It is clearly defiance, in addition to an intense case of nerves. It seems their relationship has progressed enough for Brayden to be able to stand up for himself a little, which is good. He still really stands no chance against Jenner’s iron will, though.

Brayden does trust Jenner, his Master, and will happily submit. The thing is, he’s still not able to make that last leap of faith, and walk freely over to the table, even when ordered to do so. He’s waiting for Jenner to push him into the act, to force it upon him and take the responsibility of owning his desires away from Brayden. The thrill of being taken, being passionately claimed, is still much more alluring than being shameless about wanting to submit. Brayden is comfortable getting high off of Jenner’s lust for him. It’s safer. It takes him away from feeling like the shy, awkward boy, stepping out of his comfort zone and putting himself out there for the most popular guy around..

Sighing, Brayden pushes his hand back through a wave of sun-kissed tresses, gathering the hair from where it spills over his forehead, holding a handful of it. “No, Sir.”

“Lie down on the motherfucking table.”

“But, why? Maybe if you explain it, first, it’ll be easier for me to—”

“You don’t get to ask why. See, this is why we need to go over the rules.”

“While I’m chained to the table?”

“Yeah,” Jenner agrees, mocking, like Brayden’s being a dumbass.

Thinking stalling might help, or at least buy him some more time, he asks, “Where’s Pussy?”

“Probably down in the bar, getting hammered.”

Brayden squints. “I meant the cat.”

“What cat?”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, no. Fuck
you
.”

“Is that what I am, now? I’m the Pussy? When someone asks about me, you deny my existence?”

Of course he’s denying you
, a cruel voice whispers.
Everyone denies you sooner or later.

Drawing him from his paranoid thoughts, Brayden realizes that all humor has gone from Jenner’s expression, instantly. It’s a scary thing to witness.

Brayden stops breathing. His heart rate skips up even more.

Then he’s knocked sideways and he has to put his hands out to brace his fall as he goes careening into the doorframe. Thankfully, he gets hold of it just as Jenner grabs him by the hips. The top half of Brayden’s body falls forward until his arms, tense, push back against the wood and halt his momentum, but his lower half isn’t going anywhere. Jenner’s groin grinds in a firm drag against the crease of Brayden’s ass. All Brayden is wearing is a pair of cut-off cargos. Winding a hand in the cascade of Brayden’s hair, twisting it up to the nape of his neck, then pulling on it, Jenner forces Brayden’s head back, keeps his iron grip on his hipbone, and leans close to say, “You want me to own up to this? To
everyone
? Put you on that leash you like so much and make you crawl up to Nana’s house as my slave for confession? We told Max and Art and you fell the fuck apart. You getting brave on me, Bray? You got a taste of what it feels like to show people what a slut you are for my cock, how well you take your Master’s orders and now you want more?”

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

All of the muscles in Brayden’s upper body are strung out—his legs slightly spread, arms knotted with lean cords, his shoulders, back, and waist bare and on display. Every inch of him Jenner plays with a twist and a tug. Not wanting to provoke his Master any more than he has, Brayden tries to be still but at the same time ease the strain on his scalp.

I just want you to need me
, he thinks, hiding his expression from Jenner.
I want you to be proud of me.

“You’re
mine
, slave. Not theirs. Got it?”

“Mmm,” Brayden grunts, keeping his face turned away so that Jenner doesn’t see the strange mix of happiness, hunger, trepidation and futility he feels. Part of him will always be saying he’s not enough, that it will
never
be enough. If he gives himself completely, freely, to Jenner, it’ll kill Brayden should Jenner decide he’s disappointed and abandon him like Lara did. The need to instead feel
owned
, feel
kept
, is powerful.

“Answer me,” Jenner growls with a yank of warning.

“
Yes
. Got it, Sir.”

“Do I need to put your ass on that table myself, slave?”

“Yes, please, Sir,” Brayden murmurs, tears sliding down his face.

It’s done quickly. Jenner picks him up, carries him a few feet and lays him down on the long, low wooden table—thick and rough-hewn. They’ve placed it in front of a recently-purchased couch, under the overhead light in the apartment’s main living space. Brayden can feel the vibrations through the floor from the chatter and noise in the bar below, reverberating up through the wood of the table. The light hanging from the ceiling is too bright and he squints against it, but then Jenner puts a mask over his eyes, making it tight. Comforted by the darkness, Brayden starts to relax. Once his ankles are chained to the table’s legs, and his arms, bent back over his head, are cuffed together and chained to the other end, he relaxes even more.

Jenner moves around the apartment, turning on music and checking his phone for messages from downstairs to make sure he’s not needed for the moment. His soft footsteps are tracked by Brayden, blindfolded, who turns his head this way and that as he strains his ears to catch every sound. Returning to Brayden once he’s done, Jenner stops to enjoy the sight of his bound lover’s sun-bronzed skin, his lean swimmer’s physique, his artificially lightened hair, then sits on the couch, facing Brayden.

Jenner reaches out with his left hand and places it gingerly on Brayden’s stomach, taut because of how he’s strung out. Brayden sucks his stomach in at first. That’s mostly instinct, bracing for anything. Jenner simply caresses him.

“We’re going to have to get used to people knowing,” he starts, stroking up to Brayden’s left nipple, which pebbles, dragging stiffly under Jenner’s touch. “And seeing it in their faces when they look at us… all of the things they imagine we’re doing together.”

Brayden’s nostrils flare. Jenner rubs back down to his captive’s navel, then farther, popping open the button on his shorts. Brayden exhales sharply when Jenner reaches inside.

“One of my new rules for you is that no one touches you, no matter what protocol, where we are or what the situation is. No one but
me
.” This last part is said while Brayden’s cock is closed up quite snugly in Jenner’s fist, and he pulls gently on it like he was just doing to Brayden’s hair.

“That means no hugging,” Jenner continues. “No friendly pats on the ass. No foot massages. None of it. If someone else instigates it, you put an end to it, fast. Nod if you understand.”

Brayden, breathing heavily through his nose, nods with vigor. Jenner keeps pulling on Brayden’s dick while his free hand guides Brayden’s shorts down in the other direction, until they’re at mid-thigh.

“Better. Much better,” Jenner says avidly, taking in the glorious sight held captive and presented to him. “I meant what I said about giving you a break. But just because I’m not gonna play with your ass doesn’t mean I can’t play with you in other ways. You’ll just have to be patient, because I may have to go downstairs now and then.”

“Shit,” Brayden curses under his breath, wriggling as Jenner fondles his balls. Even with Jenner’s promise to behave as far as penetration goes, the fact that they were both cleared at the clinic for any sexually transmitted diseases means that a lot more is on the table than used to be, so to speak.

“You couldn’t have chained me to the bed if you were gonna take off?” Brayden complains.

Jenner laughs. “What’s the matter? Uncomfortable?” He strokes lightly up and down Brayden’s dick, getting him hard, watching him fight it—the teasing touches and the fact that he’s totally on display.

Another benefit of making a trip to the house and having most of the day to bring things to the apartment is that now Jenner has all of his sex toys to play with. He has a few of them ready at his side. Taking one in each hand, he asks, “Lady’s choice, sweetheart. Is it gonna be the feather or the flogger?”

“What?” Brayden blurts gruffly, his face now reddened from the stimulation between his legs. It’s kind of adorable, Jenner muses.

“Simple choice,” Jenner repeats. “Feather…” he drags it lightly up the underside of Brayden’s erection. “Or flogger?” With his other hand, he swats at the upper inside of Brayden’s left thigh, right beside his balls.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Jenner begins rubbing the flogger back and forth over Brayden’s testicles with a knowing, mischievous grin that Brayden can’t see.

“Feather!”

“Are you sure?” Jenner asks. He drags the flogger up his captive’s shaft, over the head, and back down.

“Yep. Really sure.”

“You know, I was
really
hoping you’d say that.”

“Oh no.”

Jenner laughs. “I had to order this feather from a very specific vendor. It’s unique, and I haven’t gotten a chance to use it yet. The last time I offered to try it out on a slave, they chickened out.”

“Dammit,” Brayden swears, testing his chains.

“What’s your safeword? It should be something you’re not likely to shout accidentally, like ‘stop’. Something that’s more… well, safe.”

First letting out a growl of frustration, Brayden settles down eventually and grunts, “Pussy.”

“You’re not changing teams on me, slave? You’ve had pussy on the brain all night.” Bound at both ends, blind and exposed, Brayden tests his range of movement as his breathing becomes more erratic. “So, your safeword is pussy?”

“Yes, Sir. What’s wrong with the feather?”

“There’s nothing
wrong
with it at all,” Jenner says easily, as smooth as melted butter. He tickles the soft edge of the plume from Brayden’s navel up the center line of his body to his neck, up the underside of his chin, over his pursed, bow-shaped lips. “See?

“If I beg for you to stop fucking with me, will you? Sir?”

“I appreciate your candor,” Jenner smirks, trailing his toy back down. “I really do. Please, try. Beg for me, baby.”

“
Please
stop fucking with me,” Brayden pleads, wanton and earnest.

“Mmm, but I love to fuck you over, Bray. What’s my incentive? I already have you helpless on my coffee table. It’s basically my wish come true.”

“I won’t use the safeword if you’re straight with me. How’s that for incentive?” The edge in his voice tells Jenner he’s getting close to freaking out.

“Fine,” he laments, turning the feather over in his hands. Using the opposite end than he had been, he drags the feather’s shaft over Brayden’s bare hip. “Feel that?”

“Yeah,” Brayden says shakily.