Showing posts with label Uncool. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Uncool. Show all posts

Saturday, February 15, 2014

Uncool #11: Final

Ive decided to wrap this story up for now. I think youll be happy with where I leave it. Theres some pretty heavy duty bondage in this extended chapter because, frankly, bondage is where this has been headed all along. Let me know what you think about, well... just about anything! 

If you've just now come across this story and want to read from the beginning, start HERE.

This finishes out this storys run as a Wednesday Brief.  Its been fun!

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Uncool #11


Bradley didn’t waste any time. I’d told Stewart all about my morning at the Steelyard and he’d listened without a word. I could tell he was disappointed Bradley hadn’t paid any attention at all to his warning. That was probably the only thing that made him angry. He seemed happy enough that I’d handled the meeting well.

“And you’re certain you would be all right with seeing him again?”

“Yes.” In fact, I wanted to see Sir again. I’d resumed thinking of him that way right after our meeting. Everything about him, from the first time I heard his voice and felt his touch on Christmas Eve, to my last sight of him at the Steelyard that morning, beckoned me to find out more.  

“Good, because if there’s one thing for sure in this world it’s that Bradley will follow up.”

Which he did that evening by inviting all three of us—Stewart, Jase and me—to his shore home for New Year’s Eve.

Stewart recapped the invitation while I unwrapped the last of the gifts I’d run out on a few days before. A sleek compact portable charger for my electronic devices. An artisan coffee mug from the lady next door, for whom I sometimes ran errands. Mistress Libby from The Club gave me novelty smiley face nipple jewelry that sent Jase into a gale of giggles. Mistress sometimes used me for bondage demonstrations because, unlike straight male subs, I didn’t entertain fantasies about her and my cock. I liked her.

“Bradley’s party is invitation only. I doubt there will be more than ten people, and most won’t be Club members.” Stewart and Jase didn’t appear to think this was a problem, so neither did I. “What he’s asking for is a joint bondage session for the entertainment of his guests.”

“Really?” Jase slanted a smile my way.

“You and Jase,” I reasoned out loud, “and him and—me?”

“That’s right,” Stewart said evenly. “I know you said you were willing to meet with him. But it’s quite a step from that to submitting to him at a party.”

It’s true I’d been envisioning something more along the line of grabbing coffee at Federal Donuts, or maybe trying that new pizza place in Fairmount. What had I been thinking, teasing a man like Bradley with visions of putting me in ropes again? Maybe because deep down that was exactly what I wanted him to do?

“I can do that,” I told Stewart.

“You want to?” Stewart was good about nailing down what I was really agreeing to do.

I nodded. “Yes.”

“It might be intense.”

“So was Christmas Eve.”

“You can change your mind at any time, even after we get there. I talked with Reed and… he wants to do the right thing, if he or you can ever figure out what that is.”

Maybe submission was that thing. It was something I wanted, needed, and maybe what he wanted from me. If whatever happened at this party didn’t work, if we couldn’t make it happen again, both of us would know better than to waste more time. And Stewart would be on hand to make sure nothing went down that I didn’t consent to.

* * * *

On the day of New Year’s Eve, Jase and I prepared each other for the scene. Even though I wasn’t sure if I would be getting fucked, I prepared for that too. By the time we were done, both of us were squeaky clean inside and out. Stewart surprised me by not having me wear a butt plug, but he said I was going to be Sir’s for the night and that would be for him to say once we got there.

Figuring I might as well show off my assets, I put on a pair of tight jeans and a gray slut boy tank top with strategically placed nipple tear to show a discreet gold nipple ring, then covered it all with a hoodie because it was winter after all. Just before the car arrived, Jase taunted me by wiggling his tight twink butt to let me know he was sporting a large plug in his ass for the ride. Stewart sat between us in the town car and I caught glimpses of Jase’s face from time to time, little smiles of surprise and pleasure at whatever Stewart was doing to him.

Bradley’s place turned out to be somewhere in Ocean County. When I got out of the car, I could smell the sea and hear waves crashing past the moonlit, grassy dunes. The house sat far off the road and away from any neighbors. Jase minced a bit as we walked past a few other cars, none of them flashy but for a mammoth, exceedingly well-preserved Crown Victoria. My grandfather had driven one of those.

Stewart appeared to know the man who opened the door. They exchanged pleasantries until Bradley walked over. My heart nearly stopped. Damn! Sir looked good in black. A black button down shirt and black jeans with studs on the oversized fly gave him a sleek, predatory look made perfect by supple black leather boots. He spoke politely to Stewart and acknowledged Jase, but his gaze devoured me the whole while. He led us through the house to a big room with a stage at the center and oversize leather chaises and chairs all around. The stage held a bondage frame, a low platform placed within its struts, and two tables off to the side holding paraphernalia. The set up resembled an intimate, cozy arena.

There were only three other couples: an older gay man and his naked—and entirely hairless—slave from New York; a middle-aged couple dressed head to toe in leather; and Mistress Libby with Charles, her dom husband. After respectful introductions, which came with encouraging smiles from Libby and Charles, Stewart handed me off to Sir with a quiet, “You’re in good hands.” Sir then led me aside to a book lined alcove away from everyone else.

“Nervous?”

“A little,” I admitted.

“I want to be sure of your safeword. Has it changed?”

“Mississippi.”


“And your limits?”

“Same as on Christmas Eve.”

He appeared pleased that I trusted him to remember. “We’re good then.”

I gathered my nerve. “Sir?” He lifted an eyebrow, and I could tell by the way his eyelids crinkled he was glad I’d called him that. “You can do anything… with me, I mean. I trust you.”

“Stewart warned me you trust dominants too much, too soon. Don’t you know that can get you in trouble?”

“Yes, but it also got me some red hot bondage sex on Christmas Eve.”

“Liked that, did you?” Sir cocked his head to study me more closely.

“It’s why I’m here. I don’t know if I can trust you with much of anything else—but I do trust you as a dom, and so does Stewart. Maybe bondage can be another way for us to know each other.”

He lifted his right hand toward my face and I closed my eyes, focusing on the sensation as the backs of his fingers stroked my cheek. How much could he tell? Could he see how even the hint of dominance awakened my need to please? His simple touch had caused my cock to fill and strain against the zipper of my jeans. There was no missing the way my breath quickened with arousal. 

“You’re mine for the night, so—” he hooked a finger into my jeans and my eyes opened with a blink, “—what’s under these?”

“Thong.”

“Sexy?”

I nodded. At least I thought it was.

“Take the jeans off, and the shirt too.”

Though he’d seen me naked before, I felt like I was unveiling myself for the first time. I’m not sure how, but I felt Sir’s gaze on my skin. He stood with his arms crossed, like some patron at the museum admiring a work of art. One by one I removed the tank top, then the jeans. I had a nice body. Youth is a great advantage for that and I worked on it, mostly walking and tennis, to give definition to my muscles. A dusting of light hair covered my chest, with a neat trail leading down into the leather thong cupping my half-erect cock. I’d gone for a bondage look.

I quivered when Sir pressed a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing down on the nipple ring while he assessed my response. Of course both nipples hardened to begging peaks.

“Nice,” he said, “but far too plain. Let me fix that.” He reached into his pocket to pull out a small velvet pouch, tipping it to pour two bits of gold into his palm. Not just ordinary nipple bars, these were custom: each had a beautifully wrought R on the left and a just as beautiful B on the right. 

With the expertise of a man accustomed to working with nipple jewelry, Sir removed the little ring in my right nipple, replaced it with one of the bars, and expertly capped it. He did the same to my left nipple.When he was done, his initials adorned my chest. He might as well have stamped me ‘Property of Reed Bradley’.

“Do you like them?”

“Yes, Sir.” I did. A lot.

“Maybe I’ll let you keep them after tonight.”

My damn cock liked that prospect so much I was rock hard now. My outflanked brain screamed at me to slow down, that this was just a scene and Sir was, at this point, just another dom Stewart had agreed could use me. Trouble was, he was also a dom I wanted to use me.

He cupped my face with his hand and ran his thumb across my lower lip, quirking a smile when I opened my mouth to caress his skin with my tongue.

“It’s hard, isn’t it?” he murmured, raking his gaze over my face. “Being who you are, what you are… submissive souls are strong as steel, but they have to be because their need exposes them to people who don’t have the first clue how to do anything but have a kinky fuck.”

So he knew about Asshole Jerk Boyfriends I-IV, then. Shamefaced, I looked up into his eyes. All I saw was sympathy and heat.

“I’m a selfish sonofabitch, Carson. I want everything you have to give. By the time this night is over, I want you to be incapable of seeing anyone else in the room, none of them. You’ll see only me. And you’ll feel only what I am doing to you.”

Would it have made a difference to tell him I already did?

For the next hour, Sir kept me at his side. I sat on the floor while he held court in one of the chairs, talking to his guests. He cradled my head against his knee, fingers lightly combing my hair, and I let the conversation flow around me until it became a pleasant drone. Even seeing Stewart draw a mostly naked Jase into his arms for a kiss didn’t make me feel excluded, as it so often did. It was hard to define what I felt with Sir—not owned, exactly, despite the initials he’d placed on my nipples—but my insecurity just sort of trickled away as I sensed how much my good behavior pleased him.


I’ve never been a bratty sub. Some doms like that, but I was never able to pull it off. All I wanted to do was please. For most of my life, that got me into trouble, at least before I sorted it out and realized pleasing someone is different from being responsible for their happiness or success. I met far too many people who wanted access to what I had and never really wanted what I had to give.  

Sometime later Sir touched my arm and when I looked up he told me to stand. Stewart and Jase were standing already. 

It was time. I stood and followed Sir’s instruction to remove my thong. The only reason I wasn’t fully erect, like Jase, whose slender cock was at full attention, was because I was unexpectedly self-conscious. But then Sir resolved that lapse by standing behind me and closing his fingers around my cock, which hardened in his hand with an eagerness that rendered me weak. 

“Shall we continue?” He put his lips beside my ear and his voice caused me to quiver in his grasp.

“Please, Sir.”

The hand that had revived my cock released and moved to my back, guiding me to the open space in the center of the room. Sir’s hand reminded me, and everyone, who was in control. I kept my attention on Jase’s relaxed body as we approached the heavy duty frame and intricate leather covered platform where the scene would be played out. While Stewart placed a set of his favorite stainless steel cock and ball clamps on Jase’s genitals, Sir began working lengths of rope over my body, fashioning a harness for my chest and upper arms. Above my pecs, then below, he efficiently pulled and tugged the heavy strands over my muscles and skin, keeping it all in place with knots behind my back. I breathed deeply and steadily, my excitement growing as I felt each knot, each loop, tighten into a secure web. When done he guided me to the platform and directed me onto it, spreading my knees so he could bind my lower legs and ankles to the supporting rests.

Though there was barely any room left, Stewart had Jase mount the platform also. A wide stainless steel ring clamped just behind the pretty twink’s rosy and swollen glans. The gleaming circle held in place one of the wicked sounds Stewart loved to insert into his sub’s urethra. Jase adored cock torture, and ball and nipple torture too, meaning Stewart was sure to be applying pinchers and clamps to those tender areas. I wasn’t sure how, though, because Jase and I were face to face, so close our bodies bumped and his caged erection nudged against my naked one. As I wobbled against Jase, Sir pulled my arms behind my back and bound them. 

He then secured the rope attached to my chest harness to the bondage frame overhead.

I locked eyes with Jase as I realized what both doms were doing. Jase winked and mouthed ‘Fun’ before Stewart did something to make him gasp.

“You know what you want to do, pet,” Stewart growled into Jase’s ear. Stewart had removed his shirt and his broad hairy chest looked demonic in the reddish light that flooded the staging area. “Now do it.”

Jase’s pupils widened until his green irises were mere rings and he leaned in, his bare body pressing against my roped chest. Because he was shorter, my nipples bumped above his. I looked down and noticed he was no longer wearing nipple jewelry. Then I gasped when he closed his mouth over mine.

Not fair! We’d kissed in public scenes before, as part of a show and because kissing Jase was smoking hot. Sir’s watching guests murmured and clearly thought so too. The way Jase’s lips worked at my mouth, begging me to join in, made my heart race. I was a total slut when it came to sex and Jase knew it.

Sir’s hand found the back of my neck and pressed there for a moment, calming me and telling me he approved by gently pushing me toward Jase. He wanted me to do this. That permission overcame all else and I kissed Jase back, our mouths warring. We knelt so close to each other our cocks vied between our trapped bodies. Jase wasn’t bound, but I was... tied, helpless… what could I do? Knowing Sir was watching, enjoying my arousal and humiliation, only made me want it more.

“You’re a pig, Stewart, not letting us see them like this more often.” That was Libby, always vocal about what she liked.

“Apologies, ma’am, just making the world safe for submission two subs at a time.”

Jase’s kisses ceased as he gasped again. He groaned just a little and I knew Stewart was at work. And so was Sir. 
“You’re doing so well,” he murmured in my ear. I felt him checking the harness, satisfying himself that everything was secure. “Only thing is, I’m not done yet.”

I quivered, unable to do anything but submit as he reached between my spread legs and worked a length of thinner rope around the base of my genitals. He carefully wrapped the strand twice around my balls, forcing them just a little away from my body, then used one more turn to bind the root of my cock before tying it against my belly with a few expert loops around my waist.

Cock bondage. Fuck… my shaft was so swollen and hard.

Sir started stroking me, running his hands over my body in ways that told me he understood how bondage affected me. It was more than helplessness. The constant caress of rope on my skin made me sensitive. Ripples of pleasure turned into waves as I resumed kissing Jase, harder this time. I worried his lips and thrust my tongue into his open mouth. The cascade of need Sir awakened in me found an outlet through Jase, whose wriggles and moans of pleasure were driving me wild. Both of us were helpless, hungry, and obeying our masters. 

“Good boy,” Sir said. His words only succeeded in sending more blood straight to my trapped cock and balls. He traced the rope work, admiring either his expertise or my cock. Oh God. Nothing on Earth could be harder than my cock was now, tied against my belly, hot and aching and leaking precome, slicking Sir’s hand. 

His fingers teased my cock head, circling the glans and tracing the ridge, finding that spot that made me squirm. He was the devil behind me, taking control of my cock. Now it was Jase’s mouth savaging mine as I gasped on the edge. We were part a show, but I didn’t care. Kissing Jase while being fondled by Sir was so fucking hot I had no other thought in my head. The need to come trumped everything, but that wasn’t going to happen. Sir took hold of my balls and gently pulled them away from my body.

“You want more, don’t you?” Sir thumbed my aching balls, causing me to buck in the ropes. He wasn’t really asking. “Well, I want more, too.”

I had long since reached the tipping point where so much sensation flooded my nerves what I was feeling could have been either pleasure or pain. I could barely tell the difference. All I knew was I wanted more, something Sir understood. He released my balls and began rubbing my ass, not lightly, but hard, owning my exposed flesh. And then he hit me.

I yelped and despite the ropes my body leaped forward, into Jase and away from the blow. The ropes prevented me from crashing too hard.

My reaction wasn’t protest, but surprise. I had no limit, hard or soft, against discipline. Sir’s palm smacking my ass wasn’t a spanking, but an escalation. The sting shot through my nerves, pulling focus off my cock as pain spread across my ass like fire. The next blow possessed enough force to drive my body forward, slamming me into Jase again. Both of us thrashed, cocks slick and grinding, the steel cuff of his cock device traveling my overstimulated shaft. Jase kissed my neck as I quivered in the harness and gasped with each hit. After every blow Sir rubbed the mark lovingly until it settled into a warm burn. Every blow brought my bottom closer to being a hot coal… round, red, with an eager, aching core. 

The room faded away. Even Jase faded away. I sank into sensation, a body held fast by rope and being used by a man who knew exactly how to break me down. When Sir’s fingers, slick with lubricant—when had he done that?—slid between my buttocks and across my hole, I pushed back, craving them inside me, needing it like I needed air. But he just skated on past.

“I think you’re ready to give yourself over.” Sir rubbed my abused, sensitive buttocks with one hand while he teased my hole with the other. If assholes fluttered, mine was doing a dance trying to entice him to enter.

“Please, oh please.” My damn ass was begging, completely without shame. I tried to shove my buttocks back at him, but my upper body bumped against Jase’s. The only thing between our sweating bodies were strands of Jase’s long blond hair.

And then, surreally, Jase was moving away. How could that be? I looked down to see about a foot of space between our kneeling bodies. Oh fuck… the platform we were on had two parts that moved on rails.

“Bend over,” Sir directed. “The ropes will support you.” I obeyed and the harness snugged as I trusted my upper torso to the ropes, also pushing back my ass, craving whatever he would ask from me next. The movement placed my face practically in Jase’s groin. “See that nice cock in front of you? Lick it.”

“Aw, fuck,” Jase said. It was more of a whimper. Stewart was doing a number on him, pulling out all the stops. Little clothespins decorated the Jase’s scrotum and I didn’t doubt for a moment he was now wearing alligator clamps on his nips. And Sir had just ordered me to tease the tortured twink’s clamped and swollen cock.

There was no way I could suck Jase’s cock because the clamp on the outside and the sound on the inside made a blow job risky. All I could do was flick out my tongue and lick at the smooth surface and flared rim of exposed glans and keep doing it no matter how much he begged. The lube from the sound didnt taste particularly good, but Sir wanted this and Stewart clearly approved and, strangely, I wanted it too. I was so damn hot and into the scene I would have gone down on just about anything for more of Sir’s hand on my ass.

“You want this, dont you, Carson?” What vibrated in Sir’s voice sounded more like accomplishment than scorn. “You so fucking want this.”

He pressed a finger slippery with lubricant against my hole and I was so ready for it I barely felt any burn when he pushed inside. He circled lazily, enjoying my tightness or trying to loosen me, I no longer knew. My mind was tatters, a few threads of reason held captive by physical sensations that had long since ceased to resemble thought. I had no freedom, none, and was responsible for nothing, not even my own pleasure. My only responsibility was the one Sir had laid on me, to lick Jase’s cock while Stewart played out his sadistic scene.

I swiped my tongue obediently over the swollen caged cock head already wet with my saliva and was rewarded when it bobbed and the man attached to it moaned.

And then Sir shoved more fingers and lube into my ass, pushed them deep, and I was the one who moaned as he lightly bumped my prostate.


“Oh God—

“That’s it, sexy,” he murmured, “hand over the keys—”

The rope harness held my shoulders and chest, supporting what my bound arms and hands could not, and I pushed my buttocks back again, then again, signaling what I wanted. God, I needed to be fucked… so why wasn’t he doing it? I wanted it so much I stopped licking Jase, ceased everything but feeling the sensations Sir was awakening. Every time he turned his fingers just so, I thought I would explode. My cock ached and at the same time threatened to erupt.

“God, Sir… God, please…”

I was dissolving under his hand. His deep voice caressed my ear. He was saying something but I couldn’t understand any of it. All I could do was ride his fingers and utter incoherent pleas.

I heard sounds, felt movement. Some vague intelligence told me Jase had gone and Stewart, too. Only Sir was left. I practically wailed when he removed his fingers from my ass, but then he grabbed me by the hips and pulled me back so that the weight of my upper body rested solely in the harness and my buttocks opened wider. I was so filled with need I didn’t even care who fucked me…

“I will never fuck you in front of others,” he said. I heard the tearing open of a condom and the distinctive sound of one being rolled onto a cock. “I’m the only one who gets to see you like this!”

Even if I’d wanted to I couldn’t have stopped him. My begging ass accepted Sir’s cock with so little resistance his invasion of my body was more elegant than brutal. His ropes bit into my pecs and arms, tamed all my strength and gave me to him. If his first thrust was hard, the second was harder, and then he pounded my ass with all the force of a man settling the matter once and for all. I cried out in surrender and in the same breath I begged him for more.

God, I liked it rough—I liked that my body was totally, completely his to fuck in any way he saw fit. I was floating, flying… everywhere and nowhere except for Sir’s cock pushing into me and dictating the shape of the universe. And then he wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled my body hard to his. My cock jerked and spilled. No spurting, because the restraint and Sir’s hand saw to that, but I leaked thick drops of semen in abject submission.

“Is this for me, baby? Is it?” My come filled his hand. “You’re mine, mine to take.”

With a strangled roar he finished, his pelvis slamming my ass with each stroke.

As I hung limp in the ropes, Sir leaned forward, grabbed me by the hair at the back of my head and turned my face so his mouth could seize mine. I opened to his kiss, letting him in. Yes, God… yes… his cock was still hard inside me, staking his claim, and I was so completely his I was willing to die on the spot if that would please him. When he thrust his tongue deep, I sucked it fervently, savoring his taste and granting permissions he hadn’t even asked for yet. The man fucking owned me. We separated only for air.

And with that kiss he was done, and I was done, and I don’t remember what happened next. Somehow he got me out of the rope harness and off the platform. I vaguely recall him fumbling with the come soaked ropes around my genitals, of my weight sagging into strong arms. When I opened my eyes again I was tucked against Sir’s side in one of the oversize leather chairs. Explosions from somewhere outside the room boomed dimly through the walls.

“Happy New Year,” Sir said. He tightened his arm around my shoulders and pressed a kiss to my head.

I smiled and turned so my face burrowed into his unbuttoned shirt. Sir smelled good, even after a scene. My head felt light, filled with disconnected thoughts. His arms around me created a haven. “Happy New Year, Sir,” I mumbled back.

“You all right?”

“Better… complete.”

“So am I.” He nuzzled my hair. “Thank you. That was the most amazing gift. You... are the most amazing gift.”

“I think you did all the work.”

“Hardly.” Sir traced something, perhaps a residual pattern from the ropes, on my right shoulder. His finger drifted down my chest to touch one of the nipple bars with his initials, sending a shiver through me. “You want to keep these for now?”

I nodded sleepily.

He smiled and brushed a bit of stray hair away from my eyes. He looked like he was about to say something, but then he reached across my chest and tugged a nearby throw across my naked body as voices approached and a door somewhere opened.

I closed my eyes and snuggled closer. The downside of an intense scene is that it’s like coming down from a killer high. There was no way I’d be stringing two coherent thoughts together for a few hours and I was surprised Sir could do it. Cradled by Sir’s arm, I faded pleasantly in and out, barely noticing when people entered and spoke quietly to Sir, telling him how hot the scene had been and how much they enjoyed it. After speaking they retreated to other chairs or maybe they left the room, because they didnt say anythingto him beyond that. None of it mattered, though I did open my eyes at the sound of Stewart’s voice and looked up to see him looking quite pleased with himself. I didn’t see Jase, but I knew Stewart was taking care of him.

“Is there a chance we can stay for the night?” Stewart asked.

“Carson’s going nowhere.” Sir sounded definite about that. I wasn’t sure what I would do if pressed to choose between them.

Stewart held my heavy-lidded gaze for a moment. His face softened. “I see that,” he said. “Good thing I packed overnight bags.”

* * * *

I must have dropped out from exhaustion because I awoke the next morning with sore nipples and an even sorer ass in one of Sir’s guest rooms. Jase sat in his pajama bottoms on the other twin bed and regarded me with a bemused smile on his face. As was usual after an intense scene, his remarkably flawless pale skin showed distinctive bruises.

“You look good,” he said, “no worse for wear.”

“Can’t say the same about you.” I touched my chest, noting someone had removed the posts from my nipples. They felt naked. “How did I get here?”

“Damned if I know. At the moment all I care about is finding a blow dryer.” He combed fingers through his wet hair. “There’s a bathroom worthy of one of your fancy magazines through that door over there.”

His way of suggesting I use it. All I really wanted to do was find Sir. The moment I moved aside the bed sheet and got a whiff of myself, I decided the shower was a good idea. Jase was right about the bathroom being beautiful, all creamy tile and shore blue details. By the time I came out from the shower, Jase was already dressed and brandishing a blow dryer at his hair. Stewart stood beside our duffle bags and his black case of toys.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Good.” No need to mention I was a little sore. Soreness was to be expected from the kind of scene I’d just gone through.

“The housekeeper is making breakfast for us downstairs. That’s very accommodating. Our host had to leave early this morning for a business meeting in New York.”

Something inside me crumbled. Sir was gone? “It’s New Year’s Day! Who does business on New Year’s Day?”

“You really expect me to answer that? However”—Stewart handed me a sealed envelope with my name scrawled on it in brash cursive letters—“he left this for you.” He nodded for me to open it. Inside I found a business card. Reed Bradley of Bradley Properties. I turned the card over.

Let’s meet for lunch. Friday at Rybread?

I looked up at Stewart and defied him to disapprove. “He wants to meet me. I’m going to do it.”

“Are you?”

“Don’t try to stop me. Besides, what can go wrong? It’s a sandwich shop.”

Stewart pursed his lips. “All right.”

Had I heard him correctly? “All right,” I confirmed. I dressed in fresh clothes and put the card in the pocket of my jeans. When I’d done so, Stewart handed me a small velvet bag. I opened it and poured out two nipple ornaments.

“He said they’re yours.”

They weren’t mine. They were his. R—B. I already knew I’d wear them come Friday. After all, we’d tried bondage and hot sex and that wasn’t enough—both of us knew it. There was still a lot I needed to learn about Reed Bradley.

I fingered the card in my pocket and smiled. 

Sir and I had a date.

(the End... maybe) 

Copyright © 2014 Tali Spencer

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I hope youve enjoyed this little story. Its been a blast to write and, well, it got me through a rough time leading up to my surgery. Thats right... I wrote all of Uncool, every word, knowing I was facing an operation. It was my escape, a way of not thinking about those things, but thinking about these two guys instead. 

For the record, it worked. So now you know that about mehand Tali a major medical problem, she writes a novella. 

I like Carson and Reed and think I might extend their story into a book. Its pretty hot the way it is, but these guys are telling me theres more to their story. Like lots more. Like a whole romance. And I kind of what to find out how that might turn out. 

Thanks for reading!

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

Wednesday Briefs: Uncool #9

Welcome to Wednesday Briefs, a blog hop where authors post 500-1000 words of free flash fiction. I am continuing with Carson, who is determined to find out more about Sir.

Because I set this story to post ahead of time, the group kindly sent me a couple advance prompts, and I have used “Oh, that’s rich.”

Also, I will wrap this story up for Valentines Day. I am taking part in a Valentines blog hop (with a prize!) and have decided to post the first part of the climax (heh) to Uncool this Friday. The conclusion will appear on Saturday. And yes, both posts will be longer than the Briefs. :)

Want to read the story of Carson’s first meeting with the mysterious “Sir”? You can read “Unwrapped” here. The chapters are linked.


Enjoy!

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Uncool #9


I stayed with Lenie for two days, after which I followed Ben Franklin’s advice about houseguests and moved on. I dumped my backpack off at my condo, took a long shower, then dressed in jeans and walking boots before I called Stewart, just as I had done each day at Lenie’s. Calling Stewart every day was one of the rules that drove Lenie crazy, though she understood. It was a choice… and I needed the structure. After glancing at the mail, all of which could wait, I grabbed an all-weather black hoodie and headed out again.

It didn’t take long to jog down Locust Street toward the river, dodging pedestrians and traffic until I reached a blackened wall of century old bricks and discreet signage… the last traces of the Chase family’s stamp on the city.

The steelyard had ceased to be one in the middle of the last century, though Great Valley Steel had kept a skeleton warehousing operation. The property’s location recommended it, but nothing else. Last time I’d seen the place, the buildings had been outdated and the land gritty with industrial debris. I’d avoided this part of Center City for years.

I located a battered bench outside a failing CD store across the street and parked my ass there so I could look at what the Steelyard had become and try to sort through the mess my mind had become. Pain welled inside, clamoring for me to be angry, sad, destroyed by the past. I remembered how my father’s eyes would gleam whenever he spoke about the Steelyard and how it would save Great Valley Steel.

But it hadn’t.

I sighed. Warm temperatures were lifting fog from banks of snow along the river. Because I was heated from the jog, I pushed back my hood and watched cars and residents pass through the gates. The larger of the three sleek buildings rose a dozen stories and I studied the glassed in upper floors, wondering which was the one on which I’d been fucked. While I sat there, people walked by. Cars passed. I might as well have been invisible.

I noted the black sedan that slowed as it passed and then parked around the corner. I turned my head just enough to watch a tall man wearing a camelhair overcoat get out and walk toward me. Shit. There were two things this could be, and I didn’t want either.

The man came as far as the bench and stopped. A closer look confirmed Reed Bradley’s salt and pepper hair, piercing sky blue eyes, and infuriating self-composure. I hadn’t expected this, but I wasn’t really surprised. The man lived here and I’d been sitting for long enough to be noticed. I looked back at the Steelyard instead of at him.

“You’re a bastard.” There, I’d said it.

“I can be at times.” And there was the deep vibrant voice that made me melt.

“Like on Christmas Eve? Will you at least tell me why you chose me?” I actually believed I’d know the truth if I heard it. What I heard was a deep sigh, but I didn’t look his way.

“It’s complicated.”

“Oh, that’s rich—” I was just getting started.

“I knew who you were, of course I did. You don’t remember meeting me, do you?”

Now I did look at him, but just to be sure of my answer. “No. I mean, I don’t think so.”

“You were just a boy, maybe seventeen. Richard—your father—”

“I know who he was.”

“Well, he was my friend. Not a close friend, but… he helped me when I first wanted to join Philadelphia society, meet the movers and shakers. They never did accept me, they still don’t, but Richard extended his hand, invited me to his parties. And it was at those parties I would see you sometimes. You entered his study once when he and I were talking. You were excited because you’d just been accepted at Williams College.”

I flushed hot. There’d been someone else in the room that day, but the only thing I remembered clearly was my father’s quick dismissal saying to let him know when I got into Harvard. Or Penn or Cornell… any Ivy League school. He wanted his son to have a flashier education than he’d had.

“My thoughts at the time, well”—another sigh—“they weren’t completely appropriate. For that reason and because Richard was my friend, I put those thoughts as far from my mind as I could. Let’s just say I noticed you, and I was aware even then that you were completely out of my league.”

That earned another look. This time our gazes locked. Sir looked ardent, hungry even. The sexual heat in his eyes ignited something inside me, something I feared and also wanted. He did me the favor of averting his gaze first, back to the Steelyard.

“I came from nothing. Working class parents and all the ambition in the world, neither of which opens doors or gets a man invited to the best country clubs or society events. I have to be content with all the other things money can buy, because no man has enough money to buy blue blood into his veins. And I’m not self-serving enough to marry it.”

Like my father had. My mother had been East Coast royalty, daughter of a bona fide crowned prince of old money. Really old money.

My heart sank, because this was going from bad to worse. “You wanted to screw a rich kid?”

“No.” He said it firmly, and that kept me silent. “There’s quite a bit more and I’m not saying this well. After your father passed… well, who was I? I did a good job of keeping you out of my head, though you’d pop up in the news once in a while. But then several months ago I attended a demonstration at The Club, where Master Warren was giving a demonstration on using crotch ropes with a male sub.”


Copyright © 2014 Tali Spencer
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All of the Wednesday Briefers have great stories to offer this week, so check them out!

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

Wednesday Briefs: Uncool #8

Welcome to Wednesday Briefs, a blog hop where authors post 500-1000 words of free flash fiction. I am serializing a story, so this post continues with the story of Carson, who’s trying to work out whether Sir is the dom of his dreams or just a bad penny from his past.

Because I’m recovering from surgery and set this story to post ahead of time, the group kindly sent me a couple advance prompts, and I have used the Berlin Wall.

Want to read the story of Carson’s first meeting with the mysterious “Sir”? You can read “Unwrapped” here. The chapters are linked.


Enjoy!

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Uncool #8


I returned to Lenie’s apartment with Chinese takeout. We’d spent the past three Christmas nights together and lo mein was our traditional Christmas night feast. She was waiting with a string of lights glowing across the window and two place settings plus a single lighted candle on her coffee table. Lenie’s all about details.

“So what’d you find out?” she asked.

“It’s worse than I thought.”

“Worse?”

“He’s not bad looking.”

“You are so shallow.”

“I know. But that doesn’t help.” I passed one finger over a candle flame. “What sucks is I haven’t been able to unearth exactly what happened between my dad and Bradley.”

“You mean seven years ago?”

“It’s like there’s this missing piece.”

“So ask Bradley.”

“He’s already proven he can’t be trusted.”

She forked more lo mein onto her plate. “What did he do?”

“I'm not sure. There was some sort of deal for the Steelyard property. My dad met with Bradley that morning. And later that day my dad shot himself.”

“Not after meeting with Bradley?”

“No. But the same day.”

“On the day I was born, the Berlin Wall fell. The two events aren’t connected.”

“These two are. I just don’t know how.”

“Here,” she said, “have a fortune cookie.”

She was being a good friend, trying to distract me. The cookie held a hint of paper in its little crack. “So,” I asked, “how did your last Christmas’s fortune turn out?”

She chewed her final bite of lo mein, then cracked an inscrutable smile. “There’s still a week left in the year.”

“The year runs from Christmas to Christmas.”

“If that’s the case, the Chinese gods of fortune have failed again. A beautiful, smart, and loving person has not come into my life. You?”

“You mean has my success attracted many admirers? No. Just one and I’m not too sure that’s a good thing.”

“You really have to either put this guy out of your mind, like completely, or else meet him and get some answers. Because you’re not going anywhere except in circles until you do.”

She was probably right. I finished the lo mein and washed it down with sparkly cider, Lenie’s concession to holiday spirits. The sweet drink bubbled cheerfully in a champagne flute. Once the dishes were put away and the leftovers in the fridge, we sat back on the couch to open our cookies.

Lenie read hers first. “Not all closed eye is sleeping, nor open eye is seeing.” She frowned. “What’s that mean? Are the Pharoahs about to go zombie on me?”

“Now theres a thought. You could find yourself on the cutting edge of mummy research.”

“Tomorrow I’m packing heat. What does yours say?”

I cracked the cookie and pulled out the bit of paper. “Life does not get better by chance. It gets better by change.

“Well you definitely have to change something.”

“Maybe something around me will change.”

“That’s not always good, you know. Change isn’t always better. But if something’s not good, change it.” Lenie lifted the bottle of sparkly, peered to see how much was left, then divided the contents between us. “You know what I think? You’re in a rut. You’re not thinking, and that’s a problem. Just because you’re set on being swept off your feet by a man whose whip you want to kiss doesn’t mean you have to stop thinking. Stew didn’t tell you to stop thinking, did he? Because if he did, he’s what you need to change.”

“No, Stewart just sets rules.”

She cocked her head. “You think you need rules? Still? How long has it been since AJB IV?”

“Almost two years. Maybe that’s why I need this so much, the bondage and control… it’s a real need I have, Lenie. I just don’t know how to find someone who will meet it. It’s not just about the sex. People are always ready to take that from me.”

Lenie held up her hand to show me four fingers. I would have laughed if it weren’t so painful. My four asshole ‘masters’. I’d given cars to those men, along with leather coats, club memberships, and expensive jewelry. My generosity hadn’t stopped them from treating me like shit, tying me up to share me with their friends and making me perform acts I didn’t want.

“Maybe you have it backward, you know.” Lenie was being careful with me, and that was irritating. “This being submissive thing of yours, it’s kind of sweet. You know I think that, right? The first time I saw you, you were trying to climb aboard a dragon because your boyfriend had dumped you. You’re like a puppy who’s always eager to please. But what about what you want?”

“Has the symbolism escaped you? I want to ride a dragon. And I want to make the man I’m with happy.”

“Same way you make me happy, with coffee and Mummer’s tickets?”

She knew better than that, but I had no clue what she was trying to say. “Not exactly?”

“See? There you have it. That’s the problem.”

“What?” All I saw was a round-faced girl with red bangs and the fierce gaze of a maternal hawk.

“Think about it,” she advised.

“Does that mean I can stay here for a couple days?”

“Suit yourself.” She pulled her laptop toward her. “I’m searching the internet for a flamethrower.”


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All of the Wednesday Briefers have great stories to offer this week, so check them out!