Sunday, February 24, 2013

The Art of Breaking - Part 18

The moment Nikolas walked into the Black Eagle wearing all black, from his boots to his T-shirt and leather pants; he spotted Master D also known as Dominique; noting the concerned expression on his friend’s face as he made a beeline for Nikolas. Dominique had trained Nikolas to be the Master he became today. His mastery in patience, dominance, and the training provided no quarter for disrespect. He could be harsh, but he was a fair man. 
“Nikolas, my friend, where have you been? Stevie made mention that you were going to grace us with your presence. It has been too long.” Master D asked. “Will you join me for a drink?”
Mouth drawn in a tight line, Nikolas nodded as he slid into the metal and red leather padded chair, taking a quick glance around. The BDSM club was filling quickly beyond capacity. A driving beat pounded from the speakers that were controlled by a DJ in a glass booth. Members decked to the nines in leather with their submissive kneeling at their master’s feet occupied various booths and tables, along with non members who frequented the club. Masters still looking for the right sub and visa versa. Dominique ran his club with a tight fist and strict policies. Let it not be said that he didn’t have applications filled out and backgrounds checks done for each of the men in attendance. Second chances weren’t given. You mess up once and fuck up and you were banned from the club.
Turning his attention back to Dominique, Nikolas found himself staring at a man who he had a strong urge to punch just on general principal. He also admired the man. His hair was perfectly moussed into place, light brown, and sun streaked, skin nicely tanned. His smile revealed perfectly capped teeth. His suit screamed Armani, as did his shoes. They were about the same age, they both were Masters, Doms, but both were as different as night and day in temperament.
Master D sat and motioned for the waiter, scantily clad in a leather thong, nipples pierced and more body tattoos than sin, to bring him a glass of wine and Nikolas a Scotch on the rocks while he gave Nikolas a stern look.
“Thanks,” Nikolas said. “I’ve been busy. Work. You know how it goes.”
Dominique snorted. “All work and no play, my friend, will not do. You’ll wear yourself down before your time. So what does bring you to the club this evening? Have a need to taste one of our many subs or perhaps make one your own?”
Shaking his head, Nikolas felt his temper rise. “I received an invitation to be here.” Holding up both hands in his defense, an explanation wouldn’t have been swift enough by the shocked expression on Master D’s countenance. He gathered his shoulder-length hair into a ponytail and secured it with a strap of leather.
“It is not uncommon to send a submissive an invitation to my establishment, but who in their right mind would send one to a Master Dom?”

Saturday, February 23, 2013

The Art of Breaking - Part 17

Still warring with himself, Nikolas dropped behind the wheel, staring out the front windshield. The key hadn’t yet been inserted into the ignition and already the palms of his hands were even beginning to sweat. Second thoughts still assailed him. “It’s one night. Have a drink; see what this is all about. Maybe it’s a hoax and you’re getting played for a fool.” Starting up the engine was a milestone, popping in a CD to volume to level 8 and the tune blaring out, “I could be just like you,” by Faber Drive became a blessing." Rubber burned as foot hit the petal, putting it to the metal and tires squealed as he pulled out.
Nikolas reached for his cell phone and punched in the speed dial code for Black Eagle. Within seconds a soft voice purred on the other end from the car speaker. Bluetooth was the best invention yet. “Black Eagle, how may I help you this evening, Master Nikolas?”
“How…? Call display right?” Nikolas asked him with humor in his tone, though he felt none at all.
“I could say it was the heat of your breath coming at me through the phone, but I’d be shamefully lying, wouldn’t I?”
“You would be and you know what the punishment for lying is, Stevie.”
Stevie giggled. “Master Van would give me a spanking I wouldn’t soon forget? He’s a real stump off the old block, but he makes me purr, sugar.”
Nikolas smiled in spite of himself. Silence waited between them for several long seconds. He stretched his neck in an effort to chase away the tension building there. “Careful, Stevie. He’s a hardcore ball crusher is more like it and very stern with his subs. Anyhow, book me a room for tonight. I’m headed there now.”
“I knew you were going to say that.” Nikolas heard the tempo rise in Stevie’s voice. “I’ll get right on that for you, handsome.”
“Thanks. See you in fifteen, tops.” Nikolas cut the connection.

The Art of Breaking - Part 16

The scent of tomato sauce, buttery crust and lots of different meaty toppings announced nourishment at its finest. Pizza box in hand, he went to the oldest wing of his house. Moving to his desk made out of mahogany wood, he laid the flat square cardboard box on his desk and sunk down into the comfortable leather seat while opening the lid, breathing in deeply. A smile spread across his face.
"Now, that's what I call food."
After he’d inhaled the first two slices, he booted up his computer. Nikolas put his head down for a moment and closed his eyes. He was tired and cranky and his eyes hurt from straining in the light. He let them rest a moment as his mental complaining subsided. Only later, when it was over, did he finally pick up his head and look up the screen.
Nikolas scrolled through his emails, snorting in disgust at the spam with the offers to: enlarge the size of your cock. “I don’t think I have anything to worry about in that department. I don’t need no miracle grow. Asswads!” Self consciously he glanced down at his lap. If anything, his size freaked most men out which is why most of his subs were well accustomed or he gave pleasure without indulging himself and handled matters on his own. “What?” he chuckled at the ones on ‘Getting it up vitamins and VIAGRA. The click of the mouse deleted those and deleted most.
Nikolas’s attention was riveted to that one email. From: Black Eagle. Subject: Invitation. His jaw dropped. He stared at the monitor open-mouthed as he stopped eating. Tension throbbed in the silence that followed. As he sat in his large leather chair, a rumbling noise much like a growl grew in his chest. Feeling blood begin to boil, slowly he expelled a breath; eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment, and concentrated on his disbelief. Opening his eyes, he scanned the contents making sure he hadn’t been mistaken and read it wrong the first time.
Pushing his chair back, standing abruptly, Nikolas began to pace one end of his office to the other. Doing this vigorously and frequently in past years was starting to do some serious wear and tear into his plush beige carpeting. “I can do this. No, I can’t. Who would have the audacity to send this? Why me? ”
His mental bantering was giving him a migraine. As long as he didn’t answer himself, or they were sure to have him committed to the psych ward for going off the deep end. Stopping at the large bay window, groaning out loud only caused a severe ache in his chest, which no amount of rubbing would alleviate the ache which no amount of rubbing would alleviate the pounding. His pain would always be there, but maybe a night of distraction from it might not be so bad.   

Monday, February 18, 2013

The Art of Breaking - Part 15

A door somewhere opened and slammed, dogs barked and trashcans banged from the neighboring houses. Nikolas let out a curse as he came fully awake. “This is a joke.”
Then he remembered his new regime. From this moment on he was on hiatus unless ordered otherwise, and with it came thoughts of any man with a sassy glint in their eyes and temptation written all over a submissive body. One that would equal trouble in Nikolas’ mind. The last thing he wanted was to add another to his already confused state. There were a thousand reasons for keeping his hands to himself.
Nikolas drew back the black cotton sheets and got out of bed. He'd tossed and turned so much he was wrapped like a mummy in a sarcophagus when he woke up. Adrian once joked about them, calling his choice in color Morbid “R” Us. “Sure.” He said it like: didn’t everyone do that. Lying came easy. It was probably his third talent. Being a Master Dom was his second. Killing was his first.
He stretched, feeling no better than he had. His muscles protesting the earlier than expected rise out of sleep that went with the odd insane hours he kept. Nikolas got to his feet. The only indication that the move cost him was the muscle that ticked in his jaw and the thin line into which his lips compressed.
Bounding out of the bedroom, his long legs carried him away from the pain and anger and the memory of death in his dreams to the kitchen. But he knew, gut-deep, that running wouldn’t help. It never had. Pausing at the kitchen doorway, he stared, his heart now a sledgehammer. The only ones that gave him that rise in the world to feel any kind of emotion to show he was human these days were dead.
Nikolas closed a set of double cupboards and leaned back on his hip, arms crossed; pondering whether to order out, or to hop in the car and grab a few things to tide him over until he could go shopping. Not having to face life in general won out. Moving to the phone on the counter near the sink, he picked up the receiver and punched in a few numbers. “I'd like delivery. Whatever the special is tonight. Sure. Cash.”
Seeing as he had enough time, he bounded back up the steps to take a quick shower. He slapped his towel over the holder and turned on the steaming spray. A slow smile tugged on his lips as he plucked up the soap from the holder and started scrubbing the sweat and sleep from his body. His soapy hand ran over and down the length of his cock, but even that wouldn’t make it twitch or harden. He wasn’t that old, yet the idea of needing Viagra to get it up wasn’t something he was willing to accept. He wasn’t going to grow old gracefully. “Guess Braxton was right and we are stressed.” Giving his cock a firm squeeze, he moved to continue washing himself. He obviously couldn’t stay under the spray forever.
He finished showering, dried off, and wrapped a towel around his trim waist while he shaved. The razor dragged across the two-day old growth of facial hair, and it took twice as long as usual to get rid of the whiskers. Nikolas stared into the mirror when he was finished. Clean shaven and without his pants and boots he was just like any other man.
Right! He looked more like a teen who hadn’t aged in a decade and had an abnormal growth spurt. Except for his height he’d gained at an early age, which he was mocked and teased about growing up, and a build he’d worked hard at while conditioning his body during training, no one would think him to be the age he really felt deep down. He’d seen more than his fair share over the years. An old soul is how he looked upon himself. He shook his head and looked away from the image that mocked him.
Nikolas slipped on his time-worn, but most comfortable jeans, scooped up the remainder of his clothing, and looked outside the window. The bedroom was on the second floor looking over a large background with an in-ground pool that he swam in daily. He had a feeling it was going to be another long lonely night. The chime of the doorbell drew back his focus.

Sunday, February 17, 2013

The Art of Breaking - Part 13 & 14

*** SORRY for slacking. My health issue has been kicking me in the arse so I'm posting 2 parts for those reading. Thanks for reading and hope you're enjoying this story ***

Kyler’s big eyes were going to pop right out of his head. “Black Eagle?” His shaking hand froze on the door handle. “I’ve only heard about this place, but never been. You do realize it’s a BDSM club, right?” He looked over at Ashton who was grinning like a kitten who got his milk. Oh! The nerve of that man! “You totally planned this! I_I can’t go in there.” He sputtered.
Ashton opened his driver’s door and climbed out of his Jeep with the grace of an ox. “Get out. This is my night with you and this is what I want.”
Kyler broke out in a cold sweat. There was no way he could go in there. There were Masters and subs and...things. Since his last break up with Master Jerk he’d avoided all things associated with the life he so desperately needed. He glanced at the double steel doors and the glowing ‘Come In’ sign. “Ashton, I can’t do this, lets go some place else. Please?”
Ashton appeared on the passenger side, opened the door, and said, “Get out. I want this. You do too. You just don’t know it yet.” Shoulders hunched, he gave Kyler the kicked puppy dog look.
“What about what I want? Oh shit,” he replied, always a sucker for the look Ashton bestowed upon him. “You so owe me for this. I am not looking to hook up with anyone. You got that?” He got out of the black car and licked his lips nervously. He wiped his hands against the legs on his tight low rise jeans and smoothed his skin tight white tee down. “Now I know why you wanted me to wear next to skin nothing. You’re a jerk.”
“I know I am. And we’re not here for you to hook up. I just needed something different. And I want to show you off for the last time. Now, come on.”
"He'll die. That much I promise you. You don't need to concern yourself with when or how. I'll take care of it."
            The Master paced in his secluded room, a small room in the basement of an abandoned office at the edge of the wharf.
            "Although, I wouldn't mind your suggestions, you always were better at these things than me. All that training you had..." He grinned, looking at the darkest corner. The image walked out of it, still handsome, still alive.
            "I knew you'd never leave me. We've been together for so long, you would never abandon me."
            The image smiled at him then leaned his back against the wall. "So, how do you want me to precede, my love?" He grinned back, rubbing his palms together. "I think I'll start with driving him mad, hinting to him of his own death. What do you think?"
            His companion thought for a moment, then shook his head.
"You don't think that would work? He doesn't look like he'd be afraid to die? No, you're right. He won't be." He thought for a few moments, pacing the short distance between the two walls. "What about...No. That won't work either."
            He pounded on the side of his head, massaging it every so often. "I don't think I can do this without you." He turned to his companion, who was now nowhere to be seen.
            "He called you again, didn't he?" The anger rolling in his chest, he growled the last of his words. "Why can't he just leave you alone?"
            He grieved for his lover. His submissive. The only one he vowed to give his life to, the one who would serve him without blinking. "I didn't mean it...please come back" He whimpered, crouching back to the corner. "Forgive me if I upset you, I didn't mean it!"
Burying his head, the Master pleaded for his submissive. "It was his fault! He was supposed to protect you and he took you away from me!" He paused, thought for a moment, rocking his fears away. “He...if I kill him, you would return and we could be together again like it was meant to be." He laughed a laugh bordering on hysteria. "You would take your rightful place again by my side, my boy."
            He got up and paced once again, now more determined than ever to finish what he started. "I'm coming for you." He grinned as he followed the trail of his thoughts. "And you won't be able to escape me! Not this time!"
            The maniacal laugh pierced the air, rolling over the peaceful waters of the wharf.