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Authors: Jack L. Pyke

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BOOK: Antidote (Don't)
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He finished by pulling my linked hands back over my head. Elbows still touched the floor, fingers now able to brush the rock on the back of my neck as he tied my hands in place. I was bound in almost a defensive position, on all fours, protectively covering my head with my arms as white diamond-shaped rope bindings coated my body. Each time I breathed, the rope around my chest strained, the fine strands creaking and groaning, almost acting with my body to breathe out my pleasure.

A hand brushed gently at my right hip.

“Still with me, stunner?”

I couldn’t speak; breathing was now so deep it felt like I was a few breaths from sleep. “Sir,” I mumbled quietly, content to be bound, collared and naked at Gray’s feet.

The gentle sound of a camera shutter opening, then closing, disturbed the quiet, and I kept my head down, hidden. I didn’t mind photography; Gray knew that, just so long as my identity was kept private. Lighting must have been prearranged, just a soft mosaic surface on my body and the floor surrounding me. Christ. I’d have loved it if Gray himself had been caught in the background, just half-hidden in the shadows. Part of me wanted to stretch comfortably into the soft light, just revel in Gray’s threat.

That gentle click of the camera shutter came from every available angle, as much care and attention to detail shown with his photography as he did with his rope binding, close one moment, then distancing himself the next.

“Fucking stunning, Jack.” A pause, another camera shot, then things fell quiet and I twisted into the rope on my own, happy to get some relief with the rope riding my cock, flattening it tight against my lower abs. I could stay like this for hours, I’d been left like this for hours by Gray many a time, and I groaned into the free play time on the ropes now.

The strike of a match made me still, and the scent that hit the air as a long block candle was placed just in front of me, teasing every part of my body with what was to come next, it made me choke a laugh. “Fucking
vanilla
?”

“Control, Jack,” said Gray, but he’d laughed that softly.

“But fucking vanilla-scented? A few months off from training Doms, and I get a fucking vanilla candle?”

Gray tipped the candle, enough to reveal the build-up of white-hot wax, and I writhed,
th’ fuck
did I writhe
. He tipped it a little more, and a single drop of wax teetered on the edge of the candle, gathering like a full tear, then spilling, hitting the floor, heating, then cooling into a small white pool. So close that the scent of vanilla mixed with polished mahogany of the studio flooring.

Fuck. The thought of fire-play infected my body, and I twisted, writhed, half wanting to run, half wanting to fall and just fucking
feel
the burn.

Gray eased to his feet and I caught my breath, trying to gauge where he was, listen for his footsteps—just anticipate where the burn would come. My shoulders? Ass?

I arched like a cat, the stress on the rope crying out the thrilled hurt as hot wax dripped onto the small of my back. Usually it would run off the skin, but the diamond shape of the rope caught it, held it still, giving everything that extra few seconds of burn, and I hissed out as Gray made sure each drop filled the shape of the diamond. I wasn’t exactly crying stop now—more... just—“Fucking
more
.”

“You spoke?”

The taste of salt was on my lips as I screwed my eyes shut. “Suh—” My voice cracked, broke. “Sir, yes, sir, please.”

The rope keeping my hands behind my head was loosened, and I let my hands find a natural place on the floor as a stroke went to the back of my neck.

Gray’s hand encouraged me up so I was kneeling, hands in front of me, almost hiding my body’s love of his touch. He was knelt there in front of me with something held in his hand. He offered the rock forward. “You kept it in place at all times.”

I found Gray’s shirt, pulling him in, kissing his jaw, throat, lips. A kiss brushed my cheek before he stood, then I heard a soft chuckle in the darkness. “Remember that cold November pool, Jack?” Gray whispered in my ear.

That made me pause.
Th’fuck
did it throw a little cold water on things, how I was collared and all naked, like, at Gray’s feet.

“Did you keep that heads-up real close?”

A touch ran under my jaw, then a grab at the leash tethered to my collar pulled me up. Jan stood smirking by the bondage table, his cock topping his trousers, and it took me a few steps to realise I was being led back to
the
corner.

“Fuck.”
Denial corner
. I’d spent many a night there with my balls being stretched for one violation or another.

Tethered halfway up the wall was a thick, heavy chain, the sort used to restrain security dogs. It lay in a pile on the floor, a huge, sleeping snake waiting to crush a few bones. Told to stand just a few feet away, I waited as Gray went over and grabbed the end. He hooked one end into the back of my collar the next moment and the weight of the ball-freezing chain was dropped down my back.

“Mmmm,” said Gray, brushing kisses along my throat as his hand feather-played my back. “Tempting, Jack,” he said quietly.

“Yeah?” Pulling him in close, I roughed his lips up, growling against them,
“Fucking come on, then.”
A grip went to my hair, making me wince as my gaze was forced to the ceiling, instantly culling any heat.

“Do you know why you’re here?” said Gray, calmly.

“Sir.”

“Why, Jack?”

“Fucking you off, sir.”

“How did you fuck me off, Jack?”

“Slipped and, all innocent like, accidentally pushed you in the pool, sir.”

The grip tightened in my hair, this time forcing me to shift my stance slightly under the pressure. “‘All innocent like’, is it?” His breath brushed my jaw, and damn, I failed so pathetically to stop my groan. “No,” I murmured, Gray taking any twist of devilment away with how he held me. “No accidents,” I said quietly, “us. S’all that matters, sir.”

“Good answer,” he whispered quietly, lips brushing my jaw. “Down.”

And he made sure I did just that before shifting over to the wall. A few moments later, he came back with some handcuffs, fine silk, and a heavy tripod, the latter he screwed into the floor.

“Shit,” I groaned. The adjustable arm on the tripod stood level to my cock, and on the end of it a rubber cock sleeve tempted even the most worn out of cocks into life. Tight, gorgeous on the cock usually, but studs lined this one. I hated fucking studs. Ribbed was better, but Gray knew I liked ribbed, hence the studs. Bastard.

“Hands,” said Gray.

Still bound by the rope, I offered them up and he cuffed one, then the other, before slipping the small chain to the handcuffs over a special rung on the cock sleeve of the tripod, which he then screwed shut. It didn’t give my hands much room to move, maybe play with my tip if I was allowed to, nothing more.

Jan had inched closer. “Shit,” I heard him mumble, and I had to look away as he played with his own cock. Gray lubed the inside of the sleeve, then paid wicked attention to my cock, slicking me up, forcing me to look down and grip the sleeve to stop myself fucking his hand. He dipped my cock toward the rubber mouth, then a grip at my ass made sure I pushed in.

“Mmmm.” The studs ground into my cock, sending white stars playing a tune in my eyes.

“Don’t move,” he said as I moaned, instantly threatening to fuck the sleeve there and then. But seeing Gray pick up the long silk strand, I did as I was told, nearly crying
bastard
as he started to wrap it around the base of my balls. He circled them four times, tied an intricate knot, and then tied the end of the strand to the bottom of the adjustable arm on the tripod, giving a pull to make sure my balls were stretched with my cock already deep into the sleeve.

The hurt was there, but so too was the instinct to fuck out of the sleeve. I did just that, and it came at the price of pulling viciously on my balls. “
Bastard
.” I groaned and quickly fucked back in, which didn’t help one bit, because now I just wanted to fuck back out again and enjoy myself.

“Looking good there, Jack,” said Gray, hiding a smile and rubbing his palm against my tip.

I groaned; like hell did I groan.

“You try and play nice for a few minutes,” said Gray, and I watched him stand, watched him look back at Jan, watched Jan stare at Gray, then I cried all the
fuck God yes pleases
as Gray backed Jan up against a wall. In one smooth move, Gray took hold of Jan’s wrists and stretched his hands high above his head, all for Gray to pin both there with one hand, Jan’s now crossed under his. Jan instantly pushed his body into Gray’s, and Gray let his free hand trace down Jan’s arm, over his chest, down to his cock as it topped his trousers. Last time, these two together like this as I’d been forced to watch had all been about punishment, mine. Now this was just about them, about Gray ensuring rank, about Jan learning how to follow.

“Jesus,” breathed Jan, and I was right there with him. Every muscle was alive and moving under Gray’s touch, Jan writhing and trying to bite back his need to stay calm, cool. But as Gray stroked his cock, the kiss Jan gave to Gray was full of everything he needed to get out. Bodies were suddenly moving against each other, pulling, pushing, grinding, Jan trying to pull his hands free and touch in all his gentle ways, Gray keeping control and looking in every need to tie Jan up and fuck him senseless. They were contradictory, both so fucking far apart in mind, body, soul—work, and they clashed in ways that probably weren’t supposed to go to together: Jan trying to calm things, Gray to rough it up, and all it left was one ball-busting heated mass of touching, want, and downright cock-teasing cries.

As Gray released Jan, now gripping the back of Jan’s trousers, then tugging them off his ass and letting them fall, I kept quiet, feeling the pull on my scrotum, but not wanting to spoil their moment together with my frustration. Jan distractedly kicked his trousers away, showing how they needed to focus on each other, to know I was okay with that. Th’ fuck I was okay with it. I just needed my hands free to film it, or find a way to get over there and join in.

Gray slipped a touch down Jan’s outer thigh, and in one frustrated move, he lifted Jan onto his hips, Jan was now forced to rest his shoulders and head back on the wall, and after slipping on a condom, Gray took him hard. Jan’s sweet cry into taking Gray nearly pushed me over the edge, forcing me to grip my tip to stop the fallout.

Using the wall as leverage, Jan rode Gray just as hard, both of their bodies crying out the tensions being played through them. Jan came hard, quick; then Gray seemed to force control with a cry and pull free. He hadn’t come, but he seemed a little startled, a little out of breath with nearly losing it.

I managed a grin. Jan got you like that, and I fucking loved how even Gray was nearly caught in his gentle trap. He eased Jan to the floor but pressed his body in, both breathing hard, smiling, watching. They always seemed to watch each other, and I loved seeing that intensity, how lost they were in each other’s look and touch. Then Gray seemed to shake it off and glance over.

“How you doing, petal?”

“You fucking, fucked up—” My abuse got heavier, but I shut up as it made Gray come over. A gentle shove, he knelt behind me and a hand gripped at my throat, forcing my head up.

“Missed me?” breathed Gray into my ear, and the threat of his freshly coated cock against my ass was there.


Christ, yes
.” I’d missed the bastard.

“Said I’d fuck you in to the land of dry heaving cocks,” breathed Gray. Jan was now in front of me, kneeling, grabbing around the sleeve to make the ride tighter. I groaned, it was all I
could
do before time started to disappear from memory. Gray let his arm snake around my waist and pulled me back into him, adding extra pull on my balls as I was forced to take his cock.

“Welcome back, Jack,” he whispered as I cried out, taking him full force. “Missed fucking you like this, kid....”

Chapter 9
Sleeping with the Pack

Jan

I wasn’t going to be the one who woke Jack this morning; he looked so tired lying there, facing me as he slept. The alarm had gone off ten minutes ago, stirring them both and forcing Gray to smack it into snooze. He’d let his arm automatically find Jack’s waist and he’d pulled Jack back in close, forcing a smile from me. Gray had removed all of Jack’s BDSM gear, with the exception of one item. The stunning silver-grey two inch leather collar, one ring on the front, one on the back, slept on Jack’s exposed throat. No doubt something more conservative would be chosen if Jack was out in public, a discreet chain maybe? Only not now. Now he looked every part the sub: visibly claimed, sexed out, and exhausted in sleep. With how the colour matched Jack’s eyes perfectly, it had been chosen specifically, maybe echoed by how Gray had whispered something against the back of Jack’s neck, gently kissing the exposed skin above the collar, before settling back down again. Jack had been lost, too far gone in exhaustion to offer up anything other than a whispered breath of names, Gray’s, mine. They’d both fallen back into a deep sleep neither wanted to be dragged from, not without killing somebody in the process.

Trust me to be the one to step into sleeping pack territory. I stirred, just slightly, wincing in the process. I didn’t know you could screw a guy dry, make him come so much that his dick would give up eventually and dry-heave nothing. With Jack being chained in that corner, I’d worked him hard, but Gray? I’d cried out towards the end, reduced to watching as Gray had taken play to the bedroom. Jack had been in such a strange bloody state. I’d seen it kick in when Gray had been shocking him, then again after Gray had taken him for the first time in “the corner”. Part of me had been damn well impressed with how much Jack’s body could take to reach that level. Hell, even Gray had broken a sweat eventually, but he’d damn well made sure he’d taken everything from Jack in the process.

One hand tucked under his pillow, the other across the top, almost hugging it and managing to half cover his face and collar in the process, Jack slept on. There’d been no going casual with his photo afterwards, no worry over OCD, being touched, or having come on him. I couldn’t imagine Jack relaxing enough to reach this state with a trainee Dom. From what Gray had told me, Jack took timeout alone after scene, just to allow him the time to deal with how the comedown after sex played havoc with his mind, BDSM cares and needs always balanced with Jack’s care plan for his disorders. But now, half cuddled up to me, after play had finished, Jack had seemed as though he was dozing under the touch of Gray’s gentle stroke of cloth to his abs, thighs and ass. He’d been utterly relaxed, just soft malleable clay that Gray could manipulate into anything he wanted. Yet Gray had simply made sure that the whip marks were taken care of, painkillers taken, fluids kept up, then settled in behind Jack, whispering in his ear. I’d crashed soon after, loving the gentle tones Gray used, even though at times I swore they weren’t just for Jack but directed my way too. I was just glad Gray was there for everything, because there were times, yeah, I could have really lost myself, or ran screaming from the studio with what I was doing.

BOOK: Antidote (Don't)
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