“What do you need? Tell me.”

Josh swallowed. Michael was standing so close he could feel his warm breath on his cheek. Josh’s erection brushed the soft fabric of Michael’s pants. For the first time in the weeks he’d been working this job someone had reached him—reached past his passive, pseudo-submissive front to the real sub who lurked beneath.

His guard down, Josh blurted, “I need someone who appreciates the courage it takes to submit, someone who looks deeper than mere bondage and discipline to the potential for…” He faltered and pressed his lips together. He had been about to say “love” but found his mouth refused to form the word. He’d never shared his secret dreams with anyone. Why should he tell this stranger, this man who paid to play at being a Dom with him?

Michael took a step back, frowning. “I understand. Even without the words you’re biting back. I apologize. It’s your body and your obedience I’ve purchased for the hour, not your mind, certainly not your heart. Any control I might exert over you doesn’t mean shit the second that timer goes off.”

He brushed his hands together as if wiping them clean, and said abruptly, “Strip and stand at attention in the center of the room, hands locked behind your head. Eyes on the opposite wall. Don’t move.”

Josh gave an inward sigh of relief. This sort of command he understood. He shucked his clothing and stood as instructed, wondering if Michael favored the flogger or cane, the whipping post or the cross. Whatever he wanted, Josh could handle. As long as Michael stayed out of his head, he would be fine.

Michael made no move to retrieve a toy or to order Josh toward a torture device. He simply stood watching him with those very blue eyes. He stepped closer and reached out, tracing the line of Josh’s biceps with his index finger. He drew it up over his shoulder and down to the soft hair in his armpit. Josh, naturally ticklish, tried not to squirm as Michael’s finger glided down his side to his hip.

Michael stepped back and flattened his palms against Josh’s stomach, moving upward toward his chest. Again the desire to kiss the man rose in Josh’s blood. He closed his eyes, leaning lightly against the hot press of Michael’s palms.

“Don’t move. And open your eyes. I didn’t tell you to close them.”

Josh obeyed, trying to look past Michael, to look through him. Michael stepped back and took hold of Josh’s nipple between his forefinger and thumb.

“Imagine the needle pressing sharp through your flesh, the pain exploding through you, followed by the rush of endorphins and the thrill of knowing you’ve committed a true act of submission. Picture the simple gold hoops you would proudly wear for your Master, a symbol of your servitude, a gift shared between you both.”

He squeezed hard, twisting Josh’s nipple and pulling it to erection. Josh gasped and blinked. Perversely, his other nipple tingled with anticipation of the same rough treatment. Abruptly, Michael released him. His nipple throbbed, his nerves sending a jolt of desire through his blood.

Michael stepped back, and unable to help himself, Josh leaned forward, his body aching to reconnect.

Lightly Michael stroked the still-erect nipple, circling it with a light touch. “If I were to pierce you, you wouldn’t be bound. You wouldn’t be restrained with rope or leather. You wouldn’t be gagged or in any way held captive. I would only pierce you because you asked me, because you begged me, because you ached to feel the hot, sudden sting of the needle before the soft gold was slipped in place.
You would offer your body up for my needle, an ultimate testament of your obedience and willingness to suffer for me.”

Who was this man? Why was he saying these things to Josh? They weren’t lovers. This hour wasn’t supposed to be about Josh. Every other client to date had used him, yes, but without regard for his thoughts, to what moved or aroused him, to what mattered. That had suited him. It helped define this job as a gig, nothing more. A game, a way to earn serious money without involving his heart or his soul, without compromising the poetic promise of true submission he clutched to himself like a precious jewel.

“Would you do that, Josh? Would you give of yourself so completely to your Master, to the one who owned your heart?” His words were like a caress, like a velvet command Josh couldn’t resist.

Josh nearly answered. He nearly cried out, “Yes! Yes!” Somehow, with just a few words and a skillful touch, this stranger wove a web of desire around him. He wanted to succumb. He wanted to fall to his knees and whisper his promise to cherish and obey. He was both deeply excited by Michael’s vision and scared to death.

Though he knew it wasn’t allowed, Josh was nearly desperate to kiss those full, pouting lips. The urge was so powerful he found himself leaning down, his eyes fluttering closed of their own accord, his heart tapping in anticipation.

Michael stepped back, his voice suddenly abrupt, the silky, seductive tone replaced by an almost military sharpness. “Bend over the spanking bench. Take hold of the legs. Don’t move. Don’t make a sound.”

It took Josh a moment to process the abrupt changed in mood. Back on familiar ground, Josh felt as if he’d just been released from a sensual spell. He’d been teetering on the edge of some kind of romantic delusion. Thank god the man had stopped his false though compelling seduction.

With a shaky breath of relief, Josh knelt as instructed and draped himself over the high, padded bench, gripping the legs. He wished Michael had chosen a different form of erotic torture. For while Josh loved the stinging heat of a good spanking, he found this the most difficult to submit to in the dungeons.

It was because of the intimacy of skin on skin. It was relatively easy to disassociate from the person wielding a whip or flogger. It was much harder to distance himself while lying over the thighs of another man, especially one he found attractive, one he unaccountably wanted to serve, money or not.

At least the bench would put some distance between them.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, anticipating the stinging slap of Michael’s palm. Though he tried to tell himself this was just another client, just another pathetic, lonely guy who had to pay for what should have been his for the asking, he knew he was lying to himself.

His entire body was poised, waiting, eager, almost desperate to feel the intimate, sharp caress of Michael’s touch. Whoever the hell this guy was, Josh wanted him.