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Dirty Zaylor Friday - Cracks In The Night
It's Friday, and you know what that means! Another yummy, smutty Zaylor one-shot. This one's a little... different. Hope you enjoy it!
Zac
“Tay, I’m bored,” I whine into my cellphone. I hear my older brother sigh, and stifle a giggle.
“And that’s my problem how, exactly?”
“C’mon, let’s go out or something.” With Katie and the kids at the in-laws, the silence seems to echo throughout my large, empty house. You might think I’d enjoy peace and quiet when not dealing with screaming fans, but I actually hate it. I don’t like having to spend that much time alone with my thoughts. And Tay knows that, so I know he’ll give in eventually.
“Fine,” he sighs after a moment, and I grin. “I guess we could head down to the Brady district, see if there’s any open galleries or anything.”
“Sounds great,” I tell him, already reaching for my jacket. “I’ll be there in ten.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he replies, but I can hear him smiling. I’m pretty sure he’s just as restless as I am, if maybe not for the same reasons.
The sun is just setting over the treeline as I pull up to Tay’s house. I get out my car and stare up at the sky for a minute, the dusky violet dotted with the first few stars of the evening. The view out here is breathtaking, and I know it’s a big part of why Taylor moved so far into the outskirts of Tulsa. I would’ve loved to live out here too, but Katie wanted to be closer to everything. And since she spends way more time in our house than I do, it was only fair to let her pick the neighborhood.
“Nice night out,” Tay says from next to me, and I jump a little, making him laugh. “Skittish much?” He teases, but I stick my tongue out at him.
“Not my fault you’re like a freaking ninja. You ready to roll?”
He nods and we hop in the car. It’s not that long a ride, half an hour if that. I turn on the radio to fill the silence; Tay sings along softly, and I tap the rhythm on the steering wheel. We laugh at each other when we realize we’re doing it. This is why I love spending time with Taylor. If it was Ike, he’d feel the need to talk about something, anything, nothing. He knows just as well as Tay how restless I am, but his solution - mindless, non-stop chatter - is like harsh static to my ears. It’s not that I don’t like talking to him, but with Tay, it’s nice to just be.
We park outside our studio and walk down the pavement towards the block of studios and galleries nearby. Music flows from coffee shops and bars as we pass, and I think about pulling Tay in for a drink. It’s still early though, and we have all night. It’s been awhile since we went out, just the two of us, and I’m planning on enjoying every minute.
“Let’s see,” he says, stopping and looking at his phone. “There’s some local artist showing at the Corvid. Jaime Thompson’s playing at mainline. Or… hey, this sounds kinda interesting.”
“What does?” I peer over his shoulder at his phone, but all I can see is a wall of text.
“There’s some kind of demo at The Scene. Looks like… one of those guys that does the fancy tricks with the bullwhips, you know, like we saw at the Renaissance Faire that one time?”
“Oh, yeah that was cool. Wanna check it out?”
“Sure, why not?” Tay tucks his phone back in his pocket and we turn around, heading for the bar/gallery/performance space. I’ve only been there a couple times, but it’s got an interesting atmosphere. They’ve got this industrial, hipster-punk thing going; not my usual scene, but like I said, interesting.
“Thanks for coming out with me tonight.” I smile at Tay, and he nods.
“No problem. I was probably going to call you if you hadn’t beat me to it,” he laughs and nudges my shoulder. “Well, here we are.”
The windows have been draped with some kind of dark fabric, so there’s no way to see inside. When Tay pulls the door open I immediately hear a deep throbbing bassline. I can feel it in my chest as we enter the building, but it’s not the kind that pounds in my head. The music is coming from upstairs, I realize as I follow Tay in.
“ID’s, guys?” A pink-haired chick in her late twenties asks as soon as we step in the door. We flash our proof of age, and get neon green wristbands for our trouble. “Enjoy the show,” she says, and there’s something odd about her smile. Tay looks at me and shrugs, and we make our way to the second floor.
The crack of a whip makes me jump a little, and I chuckle at myself. The light fades as we hit the top of the stairs, the upper floor lit mostly by blacklights except for the center of the room. I can’t really see what’s going on yet, but another crack suggests that’s where the performer is. It’s not terribly crowded, but there’s a bunch of people milling about by the exit, and it takes Tay and me a minute to shuffle through.
“Holy shit,” Tay swears, stopping in front of me. “Um… maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”
“What? Why?” I step around Tay, and that’s when I see it. There’s a guy with a whip, alright. A guy with long, dark hair, lean, sweat-glistened muscles, and a pair of jeans so tight they put Tay’s to shame. Oh yeah, and a half-naked chick strapped to a giant X.
As if it wasn’t clear enough what’s going on, the guy cracks the whip again, barely grazing the naked chick’s back. She squirms and lets out a moan of… pleasure. She’s getting off on this. And so are the people watching, I realize as I look around. Not that anyone’s jerking off or anything, but the crowd is definitely enjoying the show.
“Zac, we need to go.” Tay grabs my arm, but I look at him. He seems really bothered by this, but to be honest… I’m not. I’m actually kind of fascinated.
“It’s no big deal,” I tell him, hoping I sound more nonchalant than I feel. He tilts his head at me, not in a judgemental way, just curious. I can’t really blame him, either. I’m not as vanilla as Ike, but I’ve never really been the adventurous type when it comes to sex. That’s mostly due to lack of opportunity, though. I got hitched when I was twenty-one, and Katie’s… I hesitate to use the word ‘prude’, but her idea of foreplay is kissing anything below the neck.
“Um… okay…” Tay lets go of my arm and looks around. It’s too dark to tell, but I’m pretty sure he’s blushing. “Let’s go grab a couple drinks.” He nods in the direction of the bar and I nod, following. I’m not really a big drinker, but I’m no straightedge either, and I have a feeling tonight I’m going to need it.
Once we’ve got our drinks - a beer for me, and a rum and coke for Tay - we find a spot near the ‘stage’. The guy’s unchaining the girl, and the crowd applauds as she takes a shaky bow. She heads out of sight and the guy turns to the crowd as he twirls the whip absently against the floor.
“For those of you just joining us, welcome. My name is Dean, I’ve been a whip master for over fifteen years, and a professional Dom for ten. Tonight I’m going to demonstrate a variety of techniques, from beginner to advanced. But first, a disclaimer: most of these tricks take time to perfect, years, even. Regardless of skill, never try an unmastered skill on a living person, and never, ever practice any whip techniques without specific, detailed consent. We don’t want anyone getting hurt,” he adds with a laugh that ripples through the crowd.
I look at Tay and smirk at his already half-empty glass. He gives me an uneasy smile and nudges me to the side, gesturing.
“There’s an empty couch over there, you wanna try to snag it?”
I look in that direction and sure enough, one of the many couches scattered about the space is vacant. I nod and lead the way, listening as Master Dean continues his introduction. By the time Tay and I are settled, there’s another guy on stage with him. A little short, with a stocky build, his dark hair pulled into a ponytail. I missed his name, if it was given, but he’s obviously Dean’s next ‘assistant’.
“We’ll start with the basics,” Dean says, and nods at the new guy. He nods in response and peels his shirt off slowly; a few whistles and catcalls echo through the room, and he grins shyly before stepping up to the metal frame, his back to the crowd.
“Always make sure the recipient is well supported,” Dean explains, stepping over and fastening leather straps to his assistant’s wrists. “Sometimes the sensations can be overwhelming, so I prefer to put my subs at a bit of a recline. His wrist straps are tight enough to hold him up if need be, but not tight enough to cut off circulation.”
I glance down and realize I’ve wrapped one hand around the opposite wrist, not tightly, but with a little pressure. I look out of my peripheral at Tay, but his eyes are glued to the men in the center of the room. He catches me looking and I quickly pull my eyes away, focusing on taking a swig of my beer.
Over the next few minutes - maybe ten, maybe thirty, I can’t really tell - master Dean demonstrates a variety of tricks, much to the pleasure of both victim and crowd. I have to admit that even I’m affected, every crack of the whip making me twitch as I imagine what it must feel like. It’s far beyond anything I’ve ever tried, but the more I watch, the more I think I want to.
“He kinda looks like you, doesn’t he?” Tay whispers in my ear suddenly, and I practically jump out of my seat. I can smell the alcohol on his breath now that he’s on his third drink, but it’s a pleasant scent, sweet and spicy. I look at Tay, but his eyes are on the stage. I follow his gaze and tilt my head, and sure enough, I can see the resemblance between myself and the red-backed figure leaning panting against the metal cross. As if I hadn’t already been picturing myself in his place, now that Tay’s pointed it out it’s like watching a video I don’t remember starring in.
I look at Tay again, wondering what made him think of it. His cheeks are flushed, and while the alcohol is at least partly to blame, I doubt it’s the sole cuprit. He licks his lips slowly, deliberately, and bites his lower lip as the room echoes with yet another crack. He’s obviously turned on by all this; I’m just curious which position he’d rather be in. For a second I think about asking, but I’m not nearly drunk enough for that.
“Alright, folks,” Dean says after uncuffing his trembling assistant. “We’re going to take a short break, but-” He pauses, and grins. “If anyone would like to volunteer, feel free to come up and talk to me.”
I take a deep breath and down the rest of my beer. I look up to ask Taylor something, but he’s already disappeared, probably to the bar for number four. I chew my lip, and glance towards the stage. Dean is standing off to one side talking to a pair of girls, but they walk away a moment later. With another glance in Tay’s direction, I make up my mind.
“Um… hey,” I say as I step up to the whip master. He smiles and holds out his hand to me.
“Hey there. Enjoying the show?”
“Yeah. It’s… interesting.” I hate how naive I sound, but he just nods knowingly. I guess I’m not the first newbie he’s met. “I was wondering about maybe… volunteering?” I spit out, before I can stop myself.
“Have you ever done anything like this before?”
“No sir,” I answer. I don’t really know where the ‘sir’ came from, but it just felt… appropriate.
“Okay, well I have to warn you, it does hurt. That’s the point, after all.”
“I know,” I reply, nodding. Obviously it’s going to hurt, but I guess he has to be extra-clear to cover his own ass.
“Alright, sure. I just need you to sign this waiver,” he says, handing me the clipboard he’s been holding. “You’re in capable hands, of course, but since there’s a risk of injury involved, I have to go through the legal disclaimer, I’m not liable, etcetera.”
“Yeah, I understand.” I look over the paperwork, but it’s all pretty standard legal jargon. It’s not like I’m planning on suing him anyway, but I know it’s required. “There.”
“Alright… Zachary. Zac? What do you prefer? And is it alright if I introduce you, or would you prefer to stay anonymous?”
“Zac’s fine. And, you can say my name if you want.” I don’t bother telling him half the people here probably know who I am already anyway.
“Great. Well, we’ve got a few minutes, so if you want to sit down, grab a drink… I’ll call you up.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I smile and turn away, heading for the bar. Tay’s there, like I expected, holding a beer out for me by the time I get there.
“There you are,” he says, his eyes sparkling. “Where’d you go?”
“Oh, just to, um… talk to someone.” I take a long drink, bracing for what’s about to come. I don’t know what possessed me to volunteer, but I don’t regret it one bit. The only thing that really scares me is what Tay’s going to say when he realizes just who I was talking to, and why. He doesn’t ask, though, so we stand there with our drinks until Dean retakes the stage.
“Let’s go grab our seats,” Tay says and I nod, following him. Any second now he’ll know, and the thought is actually almost as exciting as what I’m actually doing. Knowing he’ll be watching me, staring at me as I’m whipped… I knew that all along, though. Was that why I did it? I can’t tell now which is more exciting - the thought of being whipped, or the thought of Tay watching.
“Welcome back. For the second half of the show, we’ve got a volunteer who’s graciously agreed to stand in.”
I swallow hard and kill my beer, gripping the bottle tightly in my fist.
“Zac, if you would?” Dean asks and smiles at me. I hear Taylor choke on his drink, but I don’t dare look at him. I just set my bottle down and stand, joining Dean on stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Zac. He’s new to this, so let’s make him welcome, shall we?”
There’s more cheering and whistling from the crowd, but I stare at the floor. I can feel my cheeks burning, but I don’t regret my decision. Slowly I lift my eyes and find Tay’s; unsurprisingly he’s staring at me, his eyes wide and his jaw hanging. I smirk a little, proud at getting such a big reaction from him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that shocked, not even at the legendary Paramus Park mall incident.
I keep my eyes on his as I strip my jacket and tee-shirt off, setting them aside. I’ve never been ashamed of my body, but I know I’m no model. Still, the crowd seems to appreciate it. Taylor’s eyes flicker up and down briefly, and his jaw snaps shut so fast I can practically hear his teeth click. I glance at Dean who smiles and nods towards the metal frame.
“Still up for it?” He asks quietly, and I nod. I let him lead me over and lean against the cold metal. He gingerly takes my wrists and straps them into the leather restraints; the fabric is surprisingly warm, the texture soft but firm. The straps are tight, squeezing just a bit, but I like it. I wonder if maybe I should’ve pulled my hair back, but it’s too late now.
“Alright, Zac,” Dean says, his voice gentle. “Try to relax, okay? And tap out if you want to stop.”
“Yes sir.” Again, the term slipped out unintentionally, but again, it felt right. Does that make me a sub? If so, do I care? Dean just smirks and chuckles, stepping out of my field of view. I take a shaky breath and lean my head against the frame, bracing for the first impact. I wish I could see Taylor’s face. I want to watch him watching me, to know what he’s thinking.
I hear the whoosh of Dean’s whip being twirled, and an instant later I hear the crack, as well as feel a sting on my shoulder. It’s not as bad as I thought, but it’s enough to make me wince. At the same time, though, I feel something twist inside me, a deep reaction that’s definitely not bad. A moment later I’m struck again, a little harder this time. I feel the twist again, familiar heat building in my core. A third lash and I let out a soft moan. There’s no denying it - apparently I like pain.
The strikes continue, the intensity rising and falling in waves. It doesn’t take long for me to become fully hard, the pleasure surprisingly overwhelming. A sheen of sweat forms over my skin; I can feel my hair beginning to stick to the back of my neck. One particularly hard lash and my hips jerk forward, but the metal bars intersect and split apart again around waist-level, so there’s nothing for me to grind against. My arms and legs are trembling, but I don’t want to stop. Now that I’ve had a taste, I need more, like a drug.
“Alright, one more,” I hear Dean say behind me and I pout. But it’s not like I expected this to last forever. I brace myself, the final blow hits me like lightning and my knees buckle. If it wasn’t for the straps around my wrists I’d be a puddle on the floor. I hear applause, and jump a little at a hand on my arm.
“You okay there?” Dean asks, his expression serious and concerned. I nod and he smiles, then reaches up to unstrap my wrists. I have a feeling I won’t be able to stand, but to my surprise I feel another arm around me, low on my waist. I turn to look at Taylor; his face is turned to the floor but he glances up from the corner of his eye. His cheeks are beet red, and if I wasn’t so far gone, I’d probably worry about him being ashamed. He doesn’t look upset, though.
“Let’s hear it for our volunteer, such a good sport, wasn’t he?” Dean says to the crowd, who replies with cheers. I grin, but don’t look up. I let Tay lead me through the crowd, down the stairs, and out of the building. The cool night air stings against my bare back, and I suck in a breath. My head is beginning to clear finally and I lean, bent over, against the side of the building. I finally look up at Taylor, but he’s staring at the ground.
“You’re completely insane. You know that, right?” He doesn’t look up, but hands me my shirt. I put it on carefully, hissing as the rough cotton touches my sore shoulders.
“I know,” I answer simply. Taylor takes a cigarette from the pack in his jacket and lights it, taking a long drag. He finally looks my way and offers me the smoke. I take it from him, our fingers brushing. Even though he’s finally looking at me, I still have no idea what’s going on in his head.
“What made you want to do that?” He asks. I think about it for a second, taking a couple drags before passing the cig back to him.
“I don’t know. I’ve never done anything like that before. It’s just like… like I didn’t know I wanted it, until I saw it. You know?”
Tay stares me down for a moment, then nods. I have a feeling he knows exactly what I mean. He takes a step forward and I follow. We head in the direction of the car, but at an unhurried pace.
“How did it feel?” His voice is quiet, almost too low to hear.
“It hurt, but like… not too bad? It’s hard to explain.”
“That’s… not what I meant,” Tay says, shaking his head.
“I know,” I sigh. “I really can’t explain it. It felt… good. Really fucking good.” I’m trying to ignore it, but I’m still painfully hard. I know it must be obvious, but I’m thankful Tay’s had the decency not to say anything. Still, I see his eyes flicker up and down my body, widening just a fraction at my midsection.
“Sounded like it,” he half-whispers.
There’s something I’ve been trying to suppress, something that’s been in the back of my mind for years, more than half my life, really. It’s been easy to ignore until now, something that I’ve come to accept, because it didn’t really affect my daily life. But now, turned on as I am and knowing that Tay’s reaction is a really big part of that, I can’t stop thinking about it.
I really, really fucking want Taylor.
I look at him, and I know he can see it. I couldn’t hide it if I wanted to, not anymore. And right now, I don’t want to. Because as insane as it sounds, I think maybe, just maybe, he might want me too.
We get back to the car, and Taylor slides into the driver’s seat without having to ask. I pass him my keys and sit back, trying not to rub against the seat too much. I stare out the window as he drives; we don’t say a word, but I’m not really surprised when he pulls up to my house. I glance at him as he kills the engine, but he looks away and gets out of the car.
Our silence lasts all the way to the living room, where we sit on the couch. I peel my shirt off again, trying not to wince.
“Can I see?” Tay asks, and I nod, turning my back to him. I shiver as I feel his fingertips brushing against my skin. “Sorry,” he says suddenly, pulling back.
“It’s fine,” I tell him, shaking my head.
“I guess it would be, since you like pain,” he teases. I look over my shoulder to see him smirking at me, but there’s a hesitance in his eyes. I stare him down, and after a moment he returns his fingers to my back.
“Does it look bad?”
“No,” he replies. “It’s almost... “ He trails off, silent for a moment.
“Almost what?”
“Like a piece of art,” he finishes, then looks up at me with a bashful smile. I roll my eyes; he would say something cheesy like that. His fingers trail down my back, lower, and I hold his eyes as I shiver again. He bites his lower lip, and I have to fight the urge to do it for him.
“You really enjoyed it, huh?” There’s a playful tone to his words, and I smirk.
“I’m pretty sure you saw how much I enjoyed it.” I leave my meaning vague, but his eyes dart down to my waist again. “What about you?” I ask, apparently catching him off-guard.
“I…” He blushes and looks away. I glance down - he’s seen mine, it’s only fair - and confirm my suspicion. Not that his jeans leave much to the imagination as it is, but it’s painfully obvious he enjoyed the show just as much as I did. I can’t pull my eyes away until I hear him clear his throat.
“Question is,” I begin, turning to face him directly. “Which position you’d rather be in.” I know what position I want him in, but I honestly don’t know which end of the spectrum he falls on. He glances away, and I wish he wouldn’t, but I understand. It’s not easy facing something like this head-on.
“Giving,” he says finally, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“Well I’m a little sore still, but gimme a couple days.” I try to laugh it off as a joke, but I watch for his reaction closely. His eyes widen as he looks me over, probably trying to decide how serious I’m being. I decide I can’t make things much worse, and lean closer.
“Of course, that’s just from the waist up.”
“Zac,” he breathes, and I brace myself for rejection. But instead, I feel his hand on my knee, hesitant at first.
“Don’t say it,” I tell him quickly, covering his hand with mine. If he’s giving me the opening, I have to take it or I’ll never forgive myself. “Don’t say anything. If you don’t say it, you don’t have to judge yourself for it. I learned that a long time ago.”
Realization dawns in his eyes, and I’m not sure he won’t still pull away, but he doesn’t. He just gives me a tiny nod and reaches up to touch my cheek. I close my eyes and feel a mental shift. I sit, and I wait.
“What do you want me to do?” Tay asks slowly, but I shake my head. I’ve learned two things tonight. One, I like pain. And two… I like not being in control.
“You tell me.”
To Be Continued?
Zac
“Tay, I’m bored,” I whine into my cellphone. I hear my older brother sigh, and stifle a giggle.
“And that’s my problem how, exactly?”
“C’mon, let’s go out or something.” With Katie and the kids at the in-laws, the silence seems to echo throughout my large, empty house. You might think I’d enjoy peace and quiet when not dealing with screaming fans, but I actually hate it. I don’t like having to spend that much time alone with my thoughts. And Tay knows that, so I know he’ll give in eventually.
“Fine,” he sighs after a moment, and I grin. “I guess we could head down to the Brady district, see if there’s any open galleries or anything.”
“Sounds great,” I tell him, already reaching for my jacket. “I’ll be there in ten.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he replies, but I can hear him smiling. I’m pretty sure he’s just as restless as I am, if maybe not for the same reasons.
The sun is just setting over the treeline as I pull up to Tay’s house. I get out my car and stare up at the sky for a minute, the dusky violet dotted with the first few stars of the evening. The view out here is breathtaking, and I know it’s a big part of why Taylor moved so far into the outskirts of Tulsa. I would’ve loved to live out here too, but Katie wanted to be closer to everything. And since she spends way more time in our house than I do, it was only fair to let her pick the neighborhood.
“Nice night out,” Tay says from next to me, and I jump a little, making him laugh. “Skittish much?” He teases, but I stick my tongue out at him.
“Not my fault you’re like a freaking ninja. You ready to roll?”
He nods and we hop in the car. It’s not that long a ride, half an hour if that. I turn on the radio to fill the silence; Tay sings along softly, and I tap the rhythm on the steering wheel. We laugh at each other when we realize we’re doing it. This is why I love spending time with Taylor. If it was Ike, he’d feel the need to talk about something, anything, nothing. He knows just as well as Tay how restless I am, but his solution - mindless, non-stop chatter - is like harsh static to my ears. It’s not that I don’t like talking to him, but with Tay, it’s nice to just be.
We park outside our studio and walk down the pavement towards the block of studios and galleries nearby. Music flows from coffee shops and bars as we pass, and I think about pulling Tay in for a drink. It’s still early though, and we have all night. It’s been awhile since we went out, just the two of us, and I’m planning on enjoying every minute.
“Let’s see,” he says, stopping and looking at his phone. “There’s some local artist showing at the Corvid. Jaime Thompson’s playing at mainline. Or… hey, this sounds kinda interesting.”
“What does?” I peer over his shoulder at his phone, but all I can see is a wall of text.
“There’s some kind of demo at The Scene. Looks like… one of those guys that does the fancy tricks with the bullwhips, you know, like we saw at the Renaissance Faire that one time?”
“Oh, yeah that was cool. Wanna check it out?”
“Sure, why not?” Tay tucks his phone back in his pocket and we turn around, heading for the bar/gallery/performance space. I’ve only been there a couple times, but it’s got an interesting atmosphere. They’ve got this industrial, hipster-punk thing going; not my usual scene, but like I said, interesting.
“Thanks for coming out with me tonight.” I smile at Tay, and he nods.
“No problem. I was probably going to call you if you hadn’t beat me to it,” he laughs and nudges my shoulder. “Well, here we are.”
The windows have been draped with some kind of dark fabric, so there’s no way to see inside. When Tay pulls the door open I immediately hear a deep throbbing bassline. I can feel it in my chest as we enter the building, but it’s not the kind that pounds in my head. The music is coming from upstairs, I realize as I follow Tay in.
“ID’s, guys?” A pink-haired chick in her late twenties asks as soon as we step in the door. We flash our proof of age, and get neon green wristbands for our trouble. “Enjoy the show,” she says, and there’s something odd about her smile. Tay looks at me and shrugs, and we make our way to the second floor.
The crack of a whip makes me jump a little, and I chuckle at myself. The light fades as we hit the top of the stairs, the upper floor lit mostly by blacklights except for the center of the room. I can’t really see what’s going on yet, but another crack suggests that’s where the performer is. It’s not terribly crowded, but there’s a bunch of people milling about by the exit, and it takes Tay and me a minute to shuffle through.
“Holy shit,” Tay swears, stopping in front of me. “Um… maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”
“What? Why?” I step around Tay, and that’s when I see it. There’s a guy with a whip, alright. A guy with long, dark hair, lean, sweat-glistened muscles, and a pair of jeans so tight they put Tay’s to shame. Oh yeah, and a half-naked chick strapped to a giant X.
As if it wasn’t clear enough what’s going on, the guy cracks the whip again, barely grazing the naked chick’s back. She squirms and lets out a moan of… pleasure. She’s getting off on this. And so are the people watching, I realize as I look around. Not that anyone’s jerking off or anything, but the crowd is definitely enjoying the show.
“Zac, we need to go.” Tay grabs my arm, but I look at him. He seems really bothered by this, but to be honest… I’m not. I’m actually kind of fascinated.
“It’s no big deal,” I tell him, hoping I sound more nonchalant than I feel. He tilts his head at me, not in a judgemental way, just curious. I can’t really blame him, either. I’m not as vanilla as Ike, but I’ve never really been the adventurous type when it comes to sex. That’s mostly due to lack of opportunity, though. I got hitched when I was twenty-one, and Katie’s… I hesitate to use the word ‘prude’, but her idea of foreplay is kissing anything below the neck.
“Um… okay…” Tay lets go of my arm and looks around. It’s too dark to tell, but I’m pretty sure he’s blushing. “Let’s go grab a couple drinks.” He nods in the direction of the bar and I nod, following. I’m not really a big drinker, but I’m no straightedge either, and I have a feeling tonight I’m going to need it.
Once we’ve got our drinks - a beer for me, and a rum and coke for Tay - we find a spot near the ‘stage’. The guy’s unchaining the girl, and the crowd applauds as she takes a shaky bow. She heads out of sight and the guy turns to the crowd as he twirls the whip absently against the floor.
“For those of you just joining us, welcome. My name is Dean, I’ve been a whip master for over fifteen years, and a professional Dom for ten. Tonight I’m going to demonstrate a variety of techniques, from beginner to advanced. But first, a disclaimer: most of these tricks take time to perfect, years, even. Regardless of skill, never try an unmastered skill on a living person, and never, ever practice any whip techniques without specific, detailed consent. We don’t want anyone getting hurt,” he adds with a laugh that ripples through the crowd.
I look at Tay and smirk at his already half-empty glass. He gives me an uneasy smile and nudges me to the side, gesturing.
“There’s an empty couch over there, you wanna try to snag it?”
I look in that direction and sure enough, one of the many couches scattered about the space is vacant. I nod and lead the way, listening as Master Dean continues his introduction. By the time Tay and I are settled, there’s another guy on stage with him. A little short, with a stocky build, his dark hair pulled into a ponytail. I missed his name, if it was given, but he’s obviously Dean’s next ‘assistant’.
“We’ll start with the basics,” Dean says, and nods at the new guy. He nods in response and peels his shirt off slowly; a few whistles and catcalls echo through the room, and he grins shyly before stepping up to the metal frame, his back to the crowd.
“Always make sure the recipient is well supported,” Dean explains, stepping over and fastening leather straps to his assistant’s wrists. “Sometimes the sensations can be overwhelming, so I prefer to put my subs at a bit of a recline. His wrist straps are tight enough to hold him up if need be, but not tight enough to cut off circulation.”
I glance down and realize I’ve wrapped one hand around the opposite wrist, not tightly, but with a little pressure. I look out of my peripheral at Tay, but his eyes are glued to the men in the center of the room. He catches me looking and I quickly pull my eyes away, focusing on taking a swig of my beer.
Over the next few minutes - maybe ten, maybe thirty, I can’t really tell - master Dean demonstrates a variety of tricks, much to the pleasure of both victim and crowd. I have to admit that even I’m affected, every crack of the whip making me twitch as I imagine what it must feel like. It’s far beyond anything I’ve ever tried, but the more I watch, the more I think I want to.
“He kinda looks like you, doesn’t he?” Tay whispers in my ear suddenly, and I practically jump out of my seat. I can smell the alcohol on his breath now that he’s on his third drink, but it’s a pleasant scent, sweet and spicy. I look at Tay, but his eyes are on the stage. I follow his gaze and tilt my head, and sure enough, I can see the resemblance between myself and the red-backed figure leaning panting against the metal cross. As if I hadn’t already been picturing myself in his place, now that Tay’s pointed it out it’s like watching a video I don’t remember starring in.
I look at Tay again, wondering what made him think of it. His cheeks are flushed, and while the alcohol is at least partly to blame, I doubt it’s the sole cuprit. He licks his lips slowly, deliberately, and bites his lower lip as the room echoes with yet another crack. He’s obviously turned on by all this; I’m just curious which position he’d rather be in. For a second I think about asking, but I’m not nearly drunk enough for that.
“Alright, folks,” Dean says after uncuffing his trembling assistant. “We’re going to take a short break, but-” He pauses, and grins. “If anyone would like to volunteer, feel free to come up and talk to me.”
I take a deep breath and down the rest of my beer. I look up to ask Taylor something, but he’s already disappeared, probably to the bar for number four. I chew my lip, and glance towards the stage. Dean is standing off to one side talking to a pair of girls, but they walk away a moment later. With another glance in Tay’s direction, I make up my mind.
“Um… hey,” I say as I step up to the whip master. He smiles and holds out his hand to me.
“Hey there. Enjoying the show?”
“Yeah. It’s… interesting.” I hate how naive I sound, but he just nods knowingly. I guess I’m not the first newbie he’s met. “I was wondering about maybe… volunteering?” I spit out, before I can stop myself.
“Have you ever done anything like this before?”
“No sir,” I answer. I don’t really know where the ‘sir’ came from, but it just felt… appropriate.
“Okay, well I have to warn you, it does hurt. That’s the point, after all.”
“I know,” I reply, nodding. Obviously it’s going to hurt, but I guess he has to be extra-clear to cover his own ass.
“Alright, sure. I just need you to sign this waiver,” he says, handing me the clipboard he’s been holding. “You’re in capable hands, of course, but since there’s a risk of injury involved, I have to go through the legal disclaimer, I’m not liable, etcetera.”
“Yeah, I understand.” I look over the paperwork, but it’s all pretty standard legal jargon. It’s not like I’m planning on suing him anyway, but I know it’s required. “There.”
“Alright… Zachary. Zac? What do you prefer? And is it alright if I introduce you, or would you prefer to stay anonymous?”
“Zac’s fine. And, you can say my name if you want.” I don’t bother telling him half the people here probably know who I am already anyway.
“Great. Well, we’ve got a few minutes, so if you want to sit down, grab a drink… I’ll call you up.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I smile and turn away, heading for the bar. Tay’s there, like I expected, holding a beer out for me by the time I get there.
“There you are,” he says, his eyes sparkling. “Where’d you go?”
“Oh, just to, um… talk to someone.” I take a long drink, bracing for what’s about to come. I don’t know what possessed me to volunteer, but I don’t regret it one bit. The only thing that really scares me is what Tay’s going to say when he realizes just who I was talking to, and why. He doesn’t ask, though, so we stand there with our drinks until Dean retakes the stage.
“Let’s go grab our seats,” Tay says and I nod, following him. Any second now he’ll know, and the thought is actually almost as exciting as what I’m actually doing. Knowing he’ll be watching me, staring at me as I’m whipped… I knew that all along, though. Was that why I did it? I can’t tell now which is more exciting - the thought of being whipped, or the thought of Tay watching.
“Welcome back. For the second half of the show, we’ve got a volunteer who’s graciously agreed to stand in.”
I swallow hard and kill my beer, gripping the bottle tightly in my fist.
“Zac, if you would?” Dean asks and smiles at me. I hear Taylor choke on his drink, but I don’t dare look at him. I just set my bottle down and stand, joining Dean on stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Zac. He’s new to this, so let’s make him welcome, shall we?”
There’s more cheering and whistling from the crowd, but I stare at the floor. I can feel my cheeks burning, but I don’t regret my decision. Slowly I lift my eyes and find Tay’s; unsurprisingly he’s staring at me, his eyes wide and his jaw hanging. I smirk a little, proud at getting such a big reaction from him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that shocked, not even at the legendary Paramus Park mall incident.
I keep my eyes on his as I strip my jacket and tee-shirt off, setting them aside. I’ve never been ashamed of my body, but I know I’m no model. Still, the crowd seems to appreciate it. Taylor’s eyes flicker up and down briefly, and his jaw snaps shut so fast I can practically hear his teeth click. I glance at Dean who smiles and nods towards the metal frame.
“Still up for it?” He asks quietly, and I nod. I let him lead me over and lean against the cold metal. He gingerly takes my wrists and straps them into the leather restraints; the fabric is surprisingly warm, the texture soft but firm. The straps are tight, squeezing just a bit, but I like it. I wonder if maybe I should’ve pulled my hair back, but it’s too late now.
“Alright, Zac,” Dean says, his voice gentle. “Try to relax, okay? And tap out if you want to stop.”
“Yes sir.” Again, the term slipped out unintentionally, but again, it felt right. Does that make me a sub? If so, do I care? Dean just smirks and chuckles, stepping out of my field of view. I take a shaky breath and lean my head against the frame, bracing for the first impact. I wish I could see Taylor’s face. I want to watch him watching me, to know what he’s thinking.
I hear the whoosh of Dean’s whip being twirled, and an instant later I hear the crack, as well as feel a sting on my shoulder. It’s not as bad as I thought, but it’s enough to make me wince. At the same time, though, I feel something twist inside me, a deep reaction that’s definitely not bad. A moment later I’m struck again, a little harder this time. I feel the twist again, familiar heat building in my core. A third lash and I let out a soft moan. There’s no denying it - apparently I like pain.
The strikes continue, the intensity rising and falling in waves. It doesn’t take long for me to become fully hard, the pleasure surprisingly overwhelming. A sheen of sweat forms over my skin; I can feel my hair beginning to stick to the back of my neck. One particularly hard lash and my hips jerk forward, but the metal bars intersect and split apart again around waist-level, so there’s nothing for me to grind against. My arms and legs are trembling, but I don’t want to stop. Now that I’ve had a taste, I need more, like a drug.
“Alright, one more,” I hear Dean say behind me and I pout. But it’s not like I expected this to last forever. I brace myself, the final blow hits me like lightning and my knees buckle. If it wasn’t for the straps around my wrists I’d be a puddle on the floor. I hear applause, and jump a little at a hand on my arm.
“You okay there?” Dean asks, his expression serious and concerned. I nod and he smiles, then reaches up to unstrap my wrists. I have a feeling I won’t be able to stand, but to my surprise I feel another arm around me, low on my waist. I turn to look at Taylor; his face is turned to the floor but he glances up from the corner of his eye. His cheeks are beet red, and if I wasn’t so far gone, I’d probably worry about him being ashamed. He doesn’t look upset, though.
“Let’s hear it for our volunteer, such a good sport, wasn’t he?” Dean says to the crowd, who replies with cheers. I grin, but don’t look up. I let Tay lead me through the crowd, down the stairs, and out of the building. The cool night air stings against my bare back, and I suck in a breath. My head is beginning to clear finally and I lean, bent over, against the side of the building. I finally look up at Taylor, but he’s staring at the ground.
“You’re completely insane. You know that, right?” He doesn’t look up, but hands me my shirt. I put it on carefully, hissing as the rough cotton touches my sore shoulders.
“I know,” I answer simply. Taylor takes a cigarette from the pack in his jacket and lights it, taking a long drag. He finally looks my way and offers me the smoke. I take it from him, our fingers brushing. Even though he’s finally looking at me, I still have no idea what’s going on in his head.
“What made you want to do that?” He asks. I think about it for a second, taking a couple drags before passing the cig back to him.
“I don’t know. I’ve never done anything like that before. It’s just like… like I didn’t know I wanted it, until I saw it. You know?”
Tay stares me down for a moment, then nods. I have a feeling he knows exactly what I mean. He takes a step forward and I follow. We head in the direction of the car, but at an unhurried pace.
“How did it feel?” His voice is quiet, almost too low to hear.
“It hurt, but like… not too bad? It’s hard to explain.”
“That’s… not what I meant,” Tay says, shaking his head.
“I know,” I sigh. “I really can’t explain it. It felt… good. Really fucking good.” I’m trying to ignore it, but I’m still painfully hard. I know it must be obvious, but I’m thankful Tay’s had the decency not to say anything. Still, I see his eyes flicker up and down my body, widening just a fraction at my midsection.
“Sounded like it,” he half-whispers.
There’s something I’ve been trying to suppress, something that’s been in the back of my mind for years, more than half my life, really. It’s been easy to ignore until now, something that I’ve come to accept, because it didn’t really affect my daily life. But now, turned on as I am and knowing that Tay’s reaction is a really big part of that, I can’t stop thinking about it.
I really, really fucking want Taylor.
I look at him, and I know he can see it. I couldn’t hide it if I wanted to, not anymore. And right now, I don’t want to. Because as insane as it sounds, I think maybe, just maybe, he might want me too.
We get back to the car, and Taylor slides into the driver’s seat without having to ask. I pass him my keys and sit back, trying not to rub against the seat too much. I stare out the window as he drives; we don’t say a word, but I’m not really surprised when he pulls up to my house. I glance at him as he kills the engine, but he looks away and gets out of the car.
Our silence lasts all the way to the living room, where we sit on the couch. I peel my shirt off again, trying not to wince.
“Can I see?” Tay asks, and I nod, turning my back to him. I shiver as I feel his fingertips brushing against my skin. “Sorry,” he says suddenly, pulling back.
“It’s fine,” I tell him, shaking my head.
“I guess it would be, since you like pain,” he teases. I look over my shoulder to see him smirking at me, but there’s a hesitance in his eyes. I stare him down, and after a moment he returns his fingers to my back.
“Does it look bad?”
“No,” he replies. “It’s almost... “ He trails off, silent for a moment.
“Almost what?”
“Like a piece of art,” he finishes, then looks up at me with a bashful smile. I roll my eyes; he would say something cheesy like that. His fingers trail down my back, lower, and I hold his eyes as I shiver again. He bites his lower lip, and I have to fight the urge to do it for him.
“You really enjoyed it, huh?” There’s a playful tone to his words, and I smirk.
“I’m pretty sure you saw how much I enjoyed it.” I leave my meaning vague, but his eyes dart down to my waist again. “What about you?” I ask, apparently catching him off-guard.
“I…” He blushes and looks away. I glance down - he’s seen mine, it’s only fair - and confirm my suspicion. Not that his jeans leave much to the imagination as it is, but it’s painfully obvious he enjoyed the show just as much as I did. I can’t pull my eyes away until I hear him clear his throat.
“Question is,” I begin, turning to face him directly. “Which position you’d rather be in.” I know what position I want him in, but I honestly don’t know which end of the spectrum he falls on. He glances away, and I wish he wouldn’t, but I understand. It’s not easy facing something like this head-on.
“Giving,” he says finally, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“Well I’m a little sore still, but gimme a couple days.” I try to laugh it off as a joke, but I watch for his reaction closely. His eyes widen as he looks me over, probably trying to decide how serious I’m being. I decide I can’t make things much worse, and lean closer.
“Of course, that’s just from the waist up.”
“Zac,” he breathes, and I brace myself for rejection. But instead, I feel his hand on my knee, hesitant at first.
“Don’t say it,” I tell him quickly, covering his hand with mine. If he’s giving me the opening, I have to take it or I’ll never forgive myself. “Don’t say anything. If you don’t say it, you don’t have to judge yourself for it. I learned that a long time ago.”
Realization dawns in his eyes, and I’m not sure he won’t still pull away, but he doesn’t. He just gives me a tiny nod and reaches up to touch my cheek. I close my eyes and feel a mental shift. I sit, and I wait.
“What do you want me to do?” Tay asks slowly, but I shake my head. I’ve learned two things tonight. One, I like pain. And two… I like not being in control.
“You tell me.”
To Be Continued?