Becoming His Master (R) Excerpt © M.Q. Barber 2015
showed quarter to eight as he mounted the stairs toting carryout meals for
himself and his submissive. The hour found the second floor a modest hive of
activity as players donned their preferred personas and headed upstairs to the
sandbox. Eventually, he too would join the procession, with Jay in tow. For
now, he turned right and stepped through the wide double doors into the salon.
The area set aside
for himself and young Mr. Kress showed Emma’s unmistakable influence. Tucked
into the farthest corner of the room, a three-panel screen of wood and fabric
created a private dining nook. Best pray the younger man didn’t recognize the
scenes depicted, though the intent shouted for all and sundry to pay heed.
A pair of
yellow-ribboned women cast admiring glances his way. Muting his growl, he
stepped past them with a curt headshake. Won’t
interfere, my ass.
A paean to Greek
mythology and literature graced each panel. Achilles and Patroclus circled each
other with shields and spears, their sandaled feet the only flesh not on view.
Apollo strummed his lyre while a boy—Hyacinth, given the field of flowers—lay at
his feet. Beautiful Ganymede proffered a cup beneath the sheltering wings of
the room, he considered the ready excuses sure to be on Emma’s lips. A shield
to keep the boy from prying eyes, lest his table manners prove less than
impeccable. Hadn’t he himself insisted on protecting Jay from possible
criticism? No, of course the scenes hadn’t been deliberate. Convenience had
dictated the choice. In no way had she meant to imply Jay Kress was his eromenos.
His beloved boy.
His to mentor and protect. His sweet lips to kiss, his beautiful thighs to
Cock pressing at
his fly, he swore in silence. Was there no mercy to be found?
He rounded the
Jay sprang to his
No. No mercy at
claim, his student wore a suit as well as he wore leather shorts. Temptation
beat at him, an unrelenting pressure, the image of his submissive on his knees
with the same earnest delight on his face.
He forced himself
to turn and deposit the bag on the table. Slow and easy.
“You’ve set a
lovely table.” He told himself navy wasn’t Jay’s color, despite the good sense
he’d shown to pair his suit with a solid white shirt and a pale blue tie with a
diagonal thin-stripe in white. “I trust your wait has been a pleasant one?”
Henry.” Jay stood straight and tall, a slender vision of grace. “Mistress Emma
showed me what to do.”
“It’s just Emma,
my boy. No title. She’s a submissive here, as you are.” He unpacked the tote.
Salads first, the light containers atop the others.
“But she’s in
charge of things.” Jay tilted his head. He started to roll his shoulders before
container deposited on the table, Henry paused in his work to study his
submissive with more care. “Yes, she handles some functions at the club.” The
neat half-Windsor had to be Emma’s doing. “She also submits to her husband.”
Likewise, the white rose boutonniere pinned with Jay’s red ribbon, the symbol
of his ownership. The younger man’s purity and innocence bound under his protection
Pinned. Of course.
“Tell me, how many
pins did it take until Emma was satisfied with the drape of your jacket?”
“I’m not sure,
Master Henry.” Jay half-smiled, his eyes shining. “She made me stand still for
a long time, though. Do you like it?”
With such an
enticing invitation, he smoothed the fabric from the lapel to the right
Jay caught his
breath and rocked his hips.
he murmured. Such promising responses his pupil gave, eager physicality
impossible to miss. “But you cannot relax, can you? Afraid you’ll disrupt her
handiwork if you so much as breathe too deeply.”
“I don’t mind,
Master Henry.” If you like it, he
didn’t say, though the worship in his gaze made the words unnecessary.
Humming, he traced
the edge of the lapel downward and unfastened the button holding the jacket
closed. “I mind.” Hanging the jacket on the chair back wouldn’t do any harm.
“Your comfort is my responsibility during our time together.”
He pushed the coat
from the boy’s shoulders. He’d remove his own to ensure his dinner partner felt
“No, no, please.”
Jay clutched at the fabric, fighting the motion, his voice rising. “Master
What the devil was
“Please don’t take
my ribbon, I’m your good boy, I’m yours—”
Henry kissed him.
He knew the
instant their lips touched he ought not have done it.
Soft and pliant,
the younger man opened his mouth with a throaty little whimper.
possessive haze descended, snarling heat pushing out from his center. He ground
his cock against his submissive and claimed his mouth.