Chapter One

Chapter One

If Jack Nash were to list the many pleasures of having a handsome, obedient boy at his beck and call, showing him off would be in the top ten. Clothed, naked, bound in rope—Jack loved to put Channon somewhere people could admire him knowing that he belonged entirely to Jack.

Of course, Jack had a voyeuristic streak a mile wide, so this was hardly surprising. That Channon did not, and found being on display deeply embarrassing, only made Jack's enjoyment of it all the sweeter.

"Arms up," Jack said, running his hands over Channon's sides. Channon did as he was told, of course. Jack continued winding rope around his chest and checking the tension as he went. He ran a line in front and came around to smile at Channon. "Comfortable?"

Channon nodded. "Yes, Sir." His gaze flickered from Jack's face to his own reflection in the wide glass of their bedroom mirror and back again, as if the sight of himself being tied up was too dangerous to look at for long.

He did look lovely. Normally when they did this, Channon would be naked, but tonight he was dressed to go out in black slacks and a fitted, black button-up. Jack was tying the rope over his clothes so it would be visible. Where they were going tonight, it wouldn't be out of place at all.

Jack had chosen to bind Channon in a hishi karada—a basic diamond-patterned body harness. For contrast, he'd chosen a length of moss green jute (matching Channon's eyes) and another in gold (matching Jack's tie) to create a symmetrical, alternating pattern. Now he tied off the karada in the back and wove the ends in to keep them out of the way.

"Arms down," he said, picking up Channon's collar. He tapped Channon's shoulder with two fingers, and Channon went obediently to his knees.

From the floor, he looked up at Jack with a hopeful, almost innocent smile. He was a handsome young man, all of twenty years old, with strong shoulders and thick-muscled thighs. His dark hair and pale, sun-shy skin put Jack in mind of a young Henry Cavill circa The Count of Monte Cristo.

And Jack loved him very much.

"Good boy," he said, smoothing a hand over Channon's hair. He buckled the collar around Channon's neck. The collar was strong, black leather with brass D-rings and a solid buckle. Jack fastened it and, as always, checked the fit. Channon had been wearing this collar for two years now, and the tongue of the buckle dropped easily into its well-worn hole, but Jack checked anyway. He liked to be thorough. Who knew? Channon might have bulked up.

He was certainly muscular. One of his chores was to keep up the fitness regime Jack had approved for him. This was not solely for aesthetic purposes; it was one of the many ways in which Jack reminded Channon what they had agreed to, who Jack was to him, and to whom Channon belonged.

Because Jack was Channon's Sir, and Channon was Jack's boy, and what was between them was special, almost sacred. For Channon, reminders of his position with regard to Jack were a kind of worship, which was exactly how Jack liked it.

Jack smiled, picking up another length of jute. "Are you excited about tonight, sweetheart?"

"Yes, Sir," Channon said, sitting on his heels and resting his hands, palm up, on his knees. He seemed perfectly comfortable on the floor at Jack's feet. "Are you?"

"It should be interesting," Jack said, as he began to knot and cord a leash. "Nate and Ewan are going to be there. What do you think the chances are that Ewan will cause a scene?"

"Sir," Channon said in a low protest. "That was one time."

It had been only one time, but what a time. Nate had dragged Ewan off by his hair to discipline him loud enough they could be heard from outside the house. And sure, later Nate had told Jack that Ewan had been given special permission to act up that day for exactly that purpose, but Jack was always conscious that Ewan might do it again.

If he were honest with himself, it was because he wasn't sure how he would handle it if Channon ever got the same idea. Once upon a time, with a different sub, Jack would simply have shut it down. With Jack, bratty behavior got you cut off. It wasn't a punishment; it was a hard limit. Jack wasn't interested in playing with someone who wanted to defy him. That Nate enjoyed it puzzled him, but then again Nate had always been a touch more sadistic than Jack and relished an opportunity to dispense painful correction.

With Channon, things weren't as simple anymore. Jack loved him far too much to just cut him off. Still, if Channon started to get bratty…

Jack frowned. There were some punishments he knew Channon would hate, but in reality, the worst thing Jack could ever do to him would be to say, I'm disappointed in you. This behavior is unacceptable. That was the relationship they had. Channon was good and Jack took care of him, and in between they did some very kinky things, to their mutual satisfaction.

He reassured himself that Channon would never act out like that. That wasn't in Channon's nature. And Ewan? Well, Ewan wasn't Jack's problem.

He looped the leash through the D-ring at Channon's throat and tugged it, wrapping it around his hand until his fist was hard up under Channon's chin. Channon swayed into the grip, his tongue coming out to wet his lip, eyes bright with anticipation. Jack ran a thumb over that lip and smiled.

"Let's go, sweetheart."

?

The Ball and Chain was a ramshackle old theater out on Parliament Street that had been part of the Santa Rita kink scene since the seventies. The owner was a friend of Mr White's and sometimes hosted kink shows that skirted the boundaries of what was both legal and moral. But tonight there wasn't anything particularly risqué going on, just some predicament bondage with a side of impact play. The stage had been set up with a suspension frame, a stool, and a table bearing a number of interesting items. Jack tried to guess what might be coming by the tools laid out, and then gave himself up to the mystery of it. He ushered Channon to the front of the stage, one hand in the small of Channon's back, the end of the leash wrapped around it.

The audience area was mostly made up of rows of theater seating, but at the front there were several wide, vintage couches. Jack had reserved two, and Nate had already taken one, sitting on the inside end with Ewan in his lap.

They were an unexpected couple, Jack thought. Nate was effortlessly handsome, with all that untamed gold hair and lazy stubble. He was dressed in leather tonight, sky-high fuck-me boots and trousers with a lot of intriguing zippers. Somehow, everything he wore looked good on him in a way Jack envied a little. Nate seemed not to care. Was that his secret? Lack of fucks to give?

Ewan, meanwhile, looked like trouble. He had black liner smeared around his eyes, and the collar he wore tonight wasn't his play collar but a viciously spiked thing more suitable for a punk club than a kink club. He was wearing skinny jeans and a tank top, although ‘wearing' was perhaps an overstatement in the case of the tank—it hung off him, cut in a way that made it seem about to fall off at any moment to expose his pale, fragile chest. He looked, in short, disheveled and dangerous.

Jack inhaled, exhaled, and reminded himself that he was ‘being nice' to Ewan.

"Ooh," Nate said when Jack led Channon over to them. He reached up to touch the rope knotted around Channon's torso, running his fingers down to where it disappeared between Channon's thighs. No one else was permitted to touch Channon uninvited; Nate had special permission. "Well, aren't you pretty, all wrapped up."

Jack saw Channon duck his head in shy embarrassment. "Thank you, Mr Scott."

Ewan made a disgusted noise. "You don't have to call him ‘Mr'," he said caustically. "He don't deserve it."

Instead of being annoyed by this, as Jack would have been, Nate casually grabbed Ewan by the earlobe and twisted. "Behave yourself," he said mildly. "Channon can call me whatever he wants."

Ewan scowled and pressed his face into Nate's neck like an angry kitten. Jack wondered if Ewan bit, and what Nate would do to him if he did.

He settled onto the couch, tugging Channon down alongside him. Channon curled up against Jack's arm, a little clingy. It made Jack smile. This was because of the leash, he suspected, Channon probably self-conscious about it because they hadn't done much of that in public before. Jack tucked that arm around him, squeezing him comfortingly.

"No Victor tonight?" Nate asked with a wicked smile.

Jack shook his head. "I think predicament bondage might be a bit much for him. He's still fairly innocent."

"That won't last," Nate commented. "You know what it's like. He hasn't run screaming, so it's just a matter of time until he finds the thing that blows his socks off, and the next thing you know he'll be up to his eyeballs in it."

"True." That was often how it went. One taste of the right kink and you threw yourself in hard. Too hard, sometimes. "I don't see him as a bondage and discipline type."

"Maybe he's a service sub," Nate suggested, grinning.

Jack didn't think that sounded right either, but you never knew. "Speaking of service, Mr White's having a dinner party in a couple of weeks." Jack said. "On the Thursday, I think. You'll come?"

"Can't," Nate told him cheerfully. "I'll be in Dallas for that DevSecOps conference. I'm giving the keynote," he added, waggling his eyebrows. "You'll have to have fun without me."

Jack felt Channon twitch under his arm and looked at him. Channon had been paying attention to what they were saying, though he ducked his head when Jack caught him at it.

"Something wrong, sweetheart?"

"No, Sir," Channon said.

But Ewan was wriggling in Nate's lap, glaring at Channon like he was trying to set him on fire. Jack saw Channon give Ewan a meaningful look. So something was wrong.

"You're not lying to me, are you?" he asked mildly, pulling the leash taut against Channon's collar. "Hiding something?"

Channon's eyes flickered up, widening in horror. "No, Sir. There's nothing wrong. Just…when they sent out the conference details to the team, I thought it looked interesting. But we're going to Mr White's," he added quickly, "so it doesn't matter."

Ah. Channon wanted to go to the conference but equally wanted to serve Jack however Jack ordered him. Good boy.

Jack was torn between the desire to show Channon off at Mr White's and pleasure at the evidence of Channon showing interest in his professional development. In the end prudence won out.

"All right, then," he said aloud. "You've been extremely good—"

"As always," Nate breathed, smirking.

"—so you can go to the conference," Jack continued smoothly, "if Nate agrees to take care of you," Jack added just to see how Nate would react.

Nate laughed. "Oh, sure. We'll have fun, won't we, angel?" He winked at Channon, who blushed a bit. Then he turned his grin on Jack. "And you can take care of my brat while I'm gone."

Jack stiffened, his eyes sliding sideways to where Ewan was scowling from the cage of Nate's arms. Take care of Ewan? Jack had no idea where to start.

But what he said was, "Sure, I can walk him and feed him," because sometimes he couldn't help himself.

This made Ewan scowl harder, but all he did was bury that scowl in Nate's neck, his eyes glittering over Nate's shoulder.

"You could take him to Mr White's," Nate suggested. Ewan made an indignant noise, clearly as displeased by the idea as Jack was.

Ewan at Mr White's for a high protocol dinner? He'd managed it once before, Jack knew, but that had been with Nate's hand on his collar. Ewan did behave for Nate in public sometimes—more often than not, to be fair. But there was no way in hell Ewan would behave himself for Jack. And Jack refused to embarrass himself or Mr White by trying to make Ewan come to heel, only to watch him make a scene.

No. He would not be taking Ewan to Mr White's. If he couldn't show Channon off, he'd rather skip it entirely. He'd have to find some other way of ‘taking care' of Nate's brat.

?

Predicament bondage was one of those things that made Channon feel very weird. A hot and sexy kind of weird, but the kind that he didn't quite know what to do with. Seeing someone else in a predicament sparked a low-grade anxiety in him—he winced when they were put into restraints and forced to do something or else something worse would happen. But then again, the idea of it happening to him…

Channon shuddered and leaned into Jack's arm as the woman on the stage squealed. She'd been restrained with her arms behind her back, bent over, standing on her tiptoes. There were clamps on her nipples, tied off to long threads leading behind her to a pillar with a rough-bristled brush set up between her legs. Her panties were too thin to provide any protection, and it was obvious that the brush was torturing her intimately. But if she pulled away from it, the clamps tugged painfully at her nipples, and so she was stuck.

Her Dom had just pulled out a feather and was beginning to tickle her with it. Channon squirmed in discomfort. She looked so distressed. And yet, all he could think was, If that was me…

He tried not to picture it, but the image came too easily. Channon pressed his legs together, but that didn't help, because tonight Jack had run rope between his thighs, and squeezing just made the rope squeeze his balls. He could feel the knot Jack had tied right between his cheeks, rubbing him through his slacks. Sitting on it didn't help. It just reminded him that he was wearing lace panties, and that later…later Jack was going to take them off him.

Oh, no, this wasn't helping at all.

It got worse. Then the Dom brought a man out onto the stage and proceeded to restrain him too. Channon watched, transfixed, as the man and the woman were restrained together, so that if he moved, it would push the brush harder between her legs. At the same time, his balls were leashed so that if she pulled away from the brush, not only would it tug on her nipple clamps, but yank on his balls too.

And then the Dom stroked the male sub's back, very tenderly, and began to flog him.

Channon watched with a mouth gone dry, his breathing short and shallow. He couldn't bear this, watching this delicate, drawn-out torture. The rope around his junk constricted him mercilessly, his pants now too tight. He couldn't look away.

If that wasme…

God, if it were, he didn't know if he could stand it.

But then he imagined Jack's hands on him, and Jack's voice saying, You can do this, sweetheart. I know you can, and he knew what would happen.

When the scene was over—both subs released and wrapped up in blankets—there was an intermission. Channon hunched over, thinking about what he'd seen, the vision of it replaying in his head like a looping gif.

"Having fun, sweetheart?" Jack asked.

Channon startled. "Yes, Sir!"

Jack smiled, stroking Channon's hair. "You look a little pink. Do you want to kneel for a bit?"

Channon nodded, his face hot with embarrassment at having been caught out. Jack took a cushion off the couch and dropped it at his feet. Channon went to his knees and leaned his cheek on Jack's thigh while Jack gathered the leash around his hand until his fist was at Channon's throat. It felt good. Secure. Safe.

Channon sighed and leaned into Jack, closing his eyes. The predicament gif in his mind played over and over. He knew he should probably tell Jack how the show was affecting him. Jack would love to hear that. Jack was into stuff like that, so Channon should just tell him. But for now he enjoyed the illicit thrill of being secretly turned on.

There was a thump beside him, and he opened his eyes to see that Ewan had flopped onto the floor next to him. Ewan didn't bother kneeling, he just leaned messily up against Nate's leg.

Above, Jack and Nate were talking over the arms of their sofas. As Channon watched, Nate absently slid a hand into Ewan's hair and gripped it tight. Ewan bit his lip and then relaxed, as if this were perfectly fine. He lifted his eyebrows at Channon in greeting.

"You good?"

Channon shrugged, ducking his head to hide his blush. "It's okay."

But this wasn't going to be enough. Ewan knew Channon pretty well, after all, and was especially keen every time he thought Channon was hiding a dirty secret. "Okay? You sure?" Ewan slid a combat-boot over to poke Channon in the leg. "Not having some kind of kinky awakening?"

"We've done predicament bondage before," Channon said. "I'm not being awakened."

"Oh, aye? What have you done?" Ewan wrinkled his nose at the stage. "It's all so fussy. People always gotta make contraptions and stuff. I'm not into watching it."

That was a statement with a big hole in it. "But you like doing it, right?" Channon guessed.

Ewan gave him a narrow look. "Maybe." He gave Channon a once over and smirked. "I'm guessing you like it a lot. You're all flustered."

"No I'm not," Channon protested, which probably only made him seem more flustered. "I just…they're mostly-naked people on stage. Everybody likes that."

Ewan's grin was wicked. "Oh, sure, you like looking at a naked woman, all of a sudden." He went to lean in but winced as the movement tugged his own hair against Nate's grip. "Naw, I bet I know what you like. You like thinking about Daddy taking you home and predicamenting you. Am I right?"

"No," Channon lied.

"Don't pretend. You're gonna write about it in your kinky fantasy journal, aye? Show your old man what you want him to do to you?"

Channon should never have told Ewan about the fantasy journal. He opened his mouth to protest, but then…then he wondered why it mattered. Ewan was just as kinky as he was—kinkier, even. He didn't care what Channon did with Jack, so long as it was safe, sane, and consensual. Ewan just liked to tease.

And Channon…kind of liked being teased.

He blinked, startled by the realization. Ewan was taunting him the way he always did. It was a mild form of humiliation, really, and Channon found to his surprise that knowing this did not make him hate it.

Ewan was paying attention to him, needling him like usual, and it was in a way quite flattering to be the focus of Ewan's attention. Ewan was his best friend, and a friend that came with benefits. Some of those benefits were kinky.

Was this kinky too?

Sometimes, Channon felt like Ewan and Nate were almost an extension of him and Jack, a sort of added bonus to their relationship. They had played together before, and the way they ended hanging out in a group at events like this felt like they were their own private club. Channon had overheard someone at a play party joke that the four of them were an item, and while Jack had laughed it off at the time, Channon wasn't sure, really, how far that was from the truth.

Now Channon looked at Ewan, unsure what to say, and settled on honesty. "Okay, so sure, the thought of doing it is hot. Like you don't think it's hot too."

Ewan grinned like he'd won. "Never said it wasn't."

Oh.So Ewan liked predicament bondage? An image flashed into Channon's mind, overwriting the previous predica-gif. Something like what had happened on stage, but instead of the man it was Channon. And instead of the woman…

The thought of Ewan crying out like she had was so intense that Channon had to force it away before Ewan saw it all over his face. He stuck out his lip in a mock pout. "Be nice to me," he said, pretending to be stern about it. "I'm gonna spend two whole days alone with Nate in Dallas. Who knows what'll happen?"

This caught Ewan for a moment, but then he grinned. "Your Sir, for one. You won't do anything with Nate he doesn't tell you."

"You know the kinds of things he orders me to do," Channon countered, lifting his eyebrows to invite Ewan to speculate.

Jack did order Channon to do a lot of things, and on more than one occasion he'd ordered Channon to submit to Nate, or at the very least be fucked by him. Ewan had seen it once when all four of them had played together. Ewan had seen Channon on his knees with Nate's dick in his mouth. Ewan had said he didn't mind, but it was one thing when Ewan was there and another thing when he wasn't. Channon wasn't sure where Ewan stood on it now.

Ewan seemed unconcerned by the possibility of this, however. "Oh, aye, your Sir can order you to do whatever he wants, and you'll do it, I'm sure. But my Sir does what I tell him to, and—"

He yelped as the hand in his hair tugged hard. "Sorry, what was that?" Nate said in a sweetly dangerous tone. "Did I just hear you talking shit about me?"

Ewan came up on his knees, trying to get some slack in the grip Nate had on his hair. "Ah! No, I just—"

"Because it really sounded like you were talking shit about me," Nate said in that same, dangerous tone. "And if you're talking shit about me, I think that deserves a demerit."

Ewan twisted toward him, wincing painfully. "No! I weren't, I promise!"

"So what did you say?" Nate demanded.

Ewan looked caught. "I said…my sir does what I tell him to—but!" he added quickly as Nate's grip tightened. "I meant you don't…you won't…you won't fuck other people without making sure I'm okay with it first."

Nate's expression was mixed. He seemed to find this amusing, anyway. "Oh, is that what you meant? I see. Well, that's true. Carry on," and he shoved Ewan back onto the floor, harder than Channon would have liked himself.

Ewan tossed a scowl in Nate's direction and rubbed his scalp. "Anyway. See?"

If Channon had ever been chastised like that by Jack, he'd not have been able to shrug it off so easily. Especially in public. The idea was mortifying. But when he looked up, he saw Jack smiling at him faintly. Jack's thumb rubbed up under Channon's ear, and Channon knew he, at least, wasn't in trouble.

"I don't care if you play with him," Ewan went on, unfazed. "Like…I know you can't take what he hands out like I can. So I know you're not gonna get flogged the way he flogs me." He blinked at Channon, suddenly looking a little shy. "I don't mind if you, you know, need to kneel at his feet and get told you've been a good boy."

Channon was startled. Ewan was…offering him Nate? He didn't know if he even wanted that.

"Anyway, shouldn't you be more worried about me and your old man?" Ewan flashed him a wicked grin, all teeth and sass. "Reckon I could get your mister raging."

For a moment Channon thought Ewan meant in bed. His brain rejected the thought like it was spitting out something bitter. But then he thought about it. Nate had said Jack would have to take care of Ewan. And Ewan was…Ewan. A brat. Someone who liked to push a Dom's buttons to get a reaction.

With Channon, Jack's patience seemed endless. No matter what, so long as Channon tried as hard as he could, and Jack could see it, he wouldn't ever be angry with Channon. He wouldn't punish him unfairly (unless the whole point of what they were doing was that it was unfair) and he never, ever lost his temper.

But with Ewan?

"I could get him to crack in twenty-four hours," Ewan said, seeming pleased with himself. "Twelve, if I put my back into it."

Channon wasn't sure if it was the idea or Ewan's wicked grin that made his spine tingle.

But then he shook himself, feeling ridiculous. They were both adults. They could be mature about this.

Ewan and Jack, stuck with each other for a couple of days. What was the worst that could happen?