Tuesday
Nicholas, Anthony and Mark - Sören's three doms - drew straws to see who would take him to the grand opening of La Petite Mort, the new BDSM club. Nicholas won, and so it was that Sören walked in on his arm when the opening party was in full swing. Sören looked around, feeling a little apprehensive - he'd never been to a BDSM club before. He'd never been to an orgy before. He wanted to be here, of course, but Sören still felt that prickle of tension he always felt in new, unfamiliar situations.
Sören was wearing a black leather highwayman outfit and his dark curls were loose to his shoulders, the way Nicholas liked them. Sören rubbed his beard reflexively, and moistened his full lips. From one of the mirrors along the foyer, his anxious brown eyes looked back at him. Sören looked up at Nicholas, dark elegance in a black tunic, black leather trousers, with a black cape that had a silver Celtic knot clasp. Nicholas was a few inches taller than his six feet, and in his late fifties, with silver hair and beard, handsome in a severe way with high cheekbones, patrician nose, and heavy-lidded intense dark eyes under bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows. He glanced over and gave Sören a small smile that would be a big grin on anyone else, and gently tugged the leash that Sören was on.
They spent a short while exchanging pleasantries with people they knew in the local kink scene, which made Sören feel even more anxious... and yet there was also a thrill of being paraded around on the leash, with a remote-control buttplug pulsing away inside him. Sören wondered if the others could hear its purr. They would definitely be seeing it in short order - it was already obvious now he was half-hard, with the outfit he was wearing. The thrill intensified when Nicholas pet and stroked Sören like he was a good kitty, and at last when it was time for the games to begin, Nicholas reached down to grope Sören's ass right there in front of everyone. Sören loved it when Nicholas manhandled him.
La Petite Mort had a room where the partygoers could choose their implements, and Sören waited, the leash tied to a post, as Nicholas went into that room. He came back with two canes - a thinner cane that would sting more, and a thicker cane for harder impact. Sören's hole twitched around the plug inside him, and again when Nicholas commanded him to strip. Once Sören was naked except for the buttplug, Nicholas presented the silver tiara that Sören's doms had commissioned together as a gift for him - it said Brat on top in silver letters, to be worn when Sören was disciplined for being excessively bratty. Sören put it on now with a grin. Then Nicholas explained he would receive ten lashes - five with each cane - and he was to safeword if it got to be too much. Sören bent over the spanking horse, plug still inside him. Nicholas turned up the plug to its highest setting and after slapping Sören's ass a few times bare-handed to warm him up, he gave Sören the warning he was about to strike. "One."
After the first three strokes of the thinner, stinging cane, Sören hit subspace. Each lash took him deeper into that floaty, blissful feeling where pain transmuted into pleasure, where nothing else existed but his surrender to one of the men who owned him, claimed him. This was an act of worship, an offering, of his own body, testing the limits of his endurance... trusting Nicholas to hurt him in a healing, cathartic way. With the floating came intense sexual need - Sören began to rub his cock against the spanking horse, whimpering, which made Nicholas hit even harder for enjoying his punishment... which in turn made Sören enjoy it more. By the time all ten lashes had been administered, Sören was panting for it and his cock was aching and leaking, begging for attention.
"You are a little harlot," Nicholas told him.
"Yes, milord."
Nicholas pulled Sören back to rejoin the others, on the leash. Nicholas was still clothed while he caned Sören, and he took this opportunity to undress. He was still a little bashful about getting naked in front of others, his cheeks turning pink, but once he was, Sören walked up to him and ran his hands over Nicholas's lean-muscled, silver-pelted body to express his admiration, and they kissed. Nicholas was as hard as Sören, and Sören reached down to tease him. Nicholas bit Sören's lower lip hard enough to draw blood.
Sören's ass was quite sore from the caning; Nicholas had him turn around and surveyed his handiwork. Nicholas ran his fingers over the welts, which stung and made Sören gasp. "This is severe work even for me," Nicholas said. He led Sören over to a mattress covered with satin sheets, and retrieved a pillow, and had Sören lay on his back with the pillow under his ass, which was nice and soft.
Once Sören was laying back, Nicholas climbed over him and they kissed, again. Sören reached up to wrap his arms around Nicholas and they kissed some more, and Sören moaned at the feel of Nicholas's hard cock against his. Nicholas took both cocks into his fist, stroking slowly as he kissed Sören's neck and shoulder, and ran the fingers of his free hand over Sören's body. Then Nicholas let go of their cocks and began to kiss his way down. Sören arched to him, trembling as Nicholas's beard grazed him, as Nicholas's skilled tongue teased Sören's nipples and stomach. "So beautiful," Nicholas husked. "I love you so much."
"Oh, Daddy." Sören sighed, melting to those words. "I love you, Daddy."
Nicholas smiled and kissed one hip, then the other. Kissed and licked one thigh, then the other. Then he started licking Sören's cock, with long, deliberate strokes of his tongue, around and around the head, up and down the shaft, just licking and licking. For the first time in Sören's sexual history he felt self-conscious about the noises he was making but he couldn't help it, and they just got louder as Nicholas continued to adore Sören with his tongue. Sören couldn't believe that his reserved, snooty Daddy was doing something this intimate and lewd in front of all these people, but here Nicholas was, worshiping his cock, and Sören loved it. He reached down to pet Nicholas's hair and whiskers. "Oh, Daddy, you're spoiling me..."
"We have only just begun, little one."
Nicholas split Sören like a peach, bending his knees, and pulled out the plug. His tongue circled the rim of Sören's opening and then Nicholas began lapping at him. Nicholas had rimmed him countless times before, but to do it here at the club was new and so deliciously debauched. Sören writhed and howled as Nicholas tongue-fucked him, knowing just how to bring him to that edge and keep him there, helpless, desperate to come, Nicholas's tongue electrifying him but keeping him shy of orgasm... making him beg for it.
"Daddy. Daddy. Please, Daddy, please, fuck me, please Daddy, fuck me and make me come, Daddy, please, oh god, please, pleeeeaaaase..."
Sören stopped being able to make words at all, only whimpering, whining, shameless. Nicholas laughed softly into him and licked even slower, exquisite torment.
At last Nicholas relented and moved back to Sören's cock, chasing the flowing precum with his tongue, and then he came up to kiss Sören, letting him taste himself. Sören dug his nails in Nicholas's back with an urgent little howl.
Nicholas coated his fingers with lube and began preparing Sören, working his fingers in and out of Sören's passage until Sören was rocking his hips, fucking himself on Nicholas's fingers. Then Nicholas poured lube over his cock and teased Sören by putting in just the tip, making Sören beg for it. Sören begged and begged and begged, feeling like the biggest slut in the world for begging his Daddy for cock in front of all these people, even as they were lost in each other and making quite a bit of noise on their own.
After what seemed like forever, Nicholas took Sören, kissing him again as he bottomed out, stretched and filled Sören's channel. Nicholas paused to let Sören get adjusted - because of how Sören's ass was sore following the caning, having something in there that size made it feel even more sore, and the soreness on the outside made him feel even more full and tight on the inside than usual. As Nicholas started moving inside him, thrusting slowly, it was intense, moreso because Nicholas's eyes held his and Sören was deep enough in a submissive headspace that he wouldn't look away from Nicholas unless he was told. Sören could see the desire in Nicholas's eyes... and more than that, he could see the love in those eyes. For all the sex happening around them, they were lost in each other, the center of each other's universe.
"I love you," Sören breathed.
Nicholas kissed him. "I love you." Nicholas rubbed his nose against Sören's.
As Nicholas slowly glided in and out of him, Sören made love to Nicholas right back, running his fingers through the silver hair on Nicholas's chest and arms and thighs, kissing Nicholas's neck and shoulder. Nicholas's moans joined his own, and soon Nicholas gave in, thrusting harder, faster.
Sören dug his nails in Nicholas's back, and after a good rake where he drew blood, Nicholas rolled them over, still inside him, so now he was laying on his back and Sören could ride him. Sören rode triumphantly, feeling like he'd won something, and the smug smile on Nicholas's face let Sören know he felt the same way. Sören bucked and Nicholas made him work for it, rocking his own hips, balls smacking Sören's ass. Sören's broken cries rose above the others in the room and Nicholas gave deep, hungry grunts and growls, until they were both panting, shaking, their foreheads pressed together, breathing each other's breath.
Sören couldn't even beg to come, couldn't make words, only animal noises, clutching at him. When Sören felt Nicholas at that edge, tensing, a fevered look in his eyes, Nicholas gritted out, "Come for me, little one."
"OH GOD!" Sören bit his lower lip and shuddered as he made a huge mess, painting Nicholas's chest and face... hitting the wall behind them.
Nicholas came then, letting out a groan as he trembled and flooded Sören with his seed. Sören sighed as he felt Nicholas spend into him, marking and claiming him, the evidence of their tryst. Sören licked up some of his cum from Nicholas's chest and kissed him, their tongues licking together playfully, then Nicholas collected another string of seed with his fingers and stuck them in Sören's mouth, kissing along his jaw as Sören sucked his fingers.
"Good boy," Nicholas purred. He reached for the salve he'd brought, resting in the neat pile of his clothing with the lube. He began to rub salve over Sören's stinging, sore ass, while his other hand pet Sören's curls, rubbed his back. "Good boy. Such a good boy for Daddy."
When Sören's ass cheeks were all salved up, Nicholas put both arms around him and held him tight, rocking him. "My good boy," Nicholas wbispered. "Daddy's good boy."
Sören smiled and snuggled closer, feeling safe and utterly content.
Thursday
Sören enjoyed the visit to La Petite Mort so much that Nicholas agreed to bring him back two days later. This time, Nicholas would be whipping him - Sören had never been whipped in a kink scene before, but he was willing to try, and the idea of Nicholas holding the whip sounded pretty hot.
Nicholas chose a cat o nine tails from the toy room, then marched Sören over to a corner of the play room where there were a few St. Andrew's crosses. Once Sören was naked, Nicholas shackled Sören's wrists and ankles to the cross, with Sören's back to him, and then put a ball gag in his mouth because he knew that even with Sören gagged he would be screaming. "If you need to safeword, hold up two fingers," Nicholas said, which was another first for them.
Sören gave the thumbs up and murmured through the ball gag.
The first lash of the whip stung even harder than the cane, and the second made it sting even worse. Sören shrieked, muffled by the gag, tears streaming down his face, but he was determined to endure, and at the third crack of the whip across his back, Sören felt like he was falling, even though he was securely shackled upright. He started to feel like he was floating, the pain chased by a flood of relief. His ass stung even more, still sore from the caning two nights ago, but it hurt good. After the fifth and final lash the relief that followed the shooting pain was so strong it was euphoric, and when Nicholas removed the gag Sören heard himself chanting, "Thank you Daddy, thank you Sir, thank you Daddy, thank you, thank you..."
Nicholas chuckled as he unshackled Sören. Sören took a step back and almost fell over, still shaking. Nicholas put his arms around Sören. "I've got you."
"I'm flying, Daddy."
"Indeed." Nicholas kissed the tip of Sören's nose. "You are my phoenix, little one."
There were fire and water phoenixes inked on Sören's back. Sören started to cry again, deeply touched by those words.
Nicholas led Sören over to one of the mattresses, with fresh satin sheets, and Sören obediently knelt as Nicholas undressed. Then Nicholas had Sören sit with his back to him so he could start treating the whip wounds on Sören's back. "You're bleeding, dear," Nicholas informed him.
As rough as Nicholas had been with the whip, his fingers were achingly gentle as they applied salve. The way he nuzzled and gave Sören sweet little kisses on his neck, his back, his shoulder, and tilted Sören's face to his so he could nuzzle Sören's nose and kiss him, made Sören cry some more, in a good way.
"You have given me a gift," Nicholas said, his deep, silky voice husky with emotion. "Your trust, your surrender. Your heart is precious to me."
Sören smiled through his tears.
"You might well have scars from this," Nicholas said, continuing to rub the salve over the broken, welted skin on Sören's back.
"I know," Sören said. He already had scars there from his uncle Einar's belt... this was different. He was reclaiming his body... and the new scars were a sign of Nicholas's ownership. Pushing out Einar's damage. "I'm yours."
They kissed again.
When Nicholas was done taking care of Sören's back, he had Sören lay on his side, and Nicholas lay next to him, facing him. Sören hooked a leg around Nicholas's waist and Nicholas took him, fucking slowly. Once again they got lost in each other's eyes, touching, kissing, feeling. Everyone else seemed to fade away and it was just them, their love, their passion.
Nicholas kept it slow, languid and sensual, until neither of them could hold back anymore, and then he drove into Sören, with Sören's leg on his shoulder and Sören almost but not completely flat on his back. Sören reached up to run his hands over his Daddy, worshiping with his touch, making Nicholas tremble and moan, until Nicholas almost lost control. Then he gripped Sören's wrists in his hands, so hard it hurt. The tight, wrenching ache made Sören's back and ass start smarting again, as if it had hit some sort of pain button in his brain... and the pain intensified the pleasure of Nicholas's cock hitting that spot inside him over and over again.
"Ohhhh Daddy, you're making me so sore."
"That's what little brats get," Nicholas rasped.
That, of course, drove Sören wild. Sören shivered and his hole twitched around Nicholas's cock, his own cock pulsing. Nicholas felt it, and growled. Nicholas sped up, breath coming out in shaky gasps as his balls smacked Sören's ass. Fucking him hard was also making him sore, and the rubbing inside him was even more delicious. Sören howled and bucked against him, rocking back at him. "Oh god, Daddy, oh fuck, it hurts so good..."
"Good. I want you to feel where I've been and remember who you belong to."
Sören shivered again, cock leaping, balls tightening - he could feel himself rushing to that point of no return. "Daddy," he wailed.
Nicholas knew Sören was right there, and reached to pull Sören's collar - not just the O-ring, but the entire collar, so that it tightened around Sören's neck, choking him a little. The predatory look on Nicholas's face filled Sören with lust, as did the knowledge that Nicholas could kill him with his bare hands, and yet Sören was completely safe with him. It was harder to breathe, and everything intensified to the shatterpoint. Their eyes met and held, and Sören felt so completely dominated and possessed that he surrendered, his eyes trailing down Nicholas's body, wanting him, wanting his cock claiming him again and again and again... wanting this to never stop, but he was right there, right there...
Sören couldn't hold back. He heard a high-pitched noise come out of him, and Nicholas let go of the collar. Sören cried out, "DADDY," as he gave into a full-body orgasm, prostate throbbing along with his spurting cock, the pleasure soaring and soaring, then floating. Nicholas shuddered against him as he spent into Sören's contracting passage, gasping for breath. Nicholas let out a deep, primal growl that made Sören shoot again, loving that Nicholas lost all pretense of control, fully animal, here in front of other people.
"I love you, little one," Nicholas husked.
"Oh, Daddy, I love you." Sören was smiling so hard his face hurt.
They kissed and then Nicholas stroked Sören's face, smiling back at him; tears came to Sören's eyes at the tenderness in Nicholas's eyes. Nicholas nuzzled him and kissed his brow, and they rolled back onto their sides and Nicholas held him close.
Sören felt himself drifting off, as he typically did after a powerful orgasm, and he woke up briefly to feel Nicholas dressing him... then when he woke up again he was in the passenger seat of Nicholas's Jaguar with a blanket draped over him, windshield wipers clacking in the rain.
"Wow, shit," Sören said, sitting up, rubbing his eyes.
"It seems the club lives up to the name La Petite Mort," Nicholas said, glancing over with a smile.
Sören giggled and grinned. Then he stretched, and though he was sore, he felt refreshed. "Yeah... I died and I feel reborn."
"Like a phoenix."
"Yessir."