Blue Dragon

When I woke up in the morning, he was gone. And the restraints were gone as well. But I was covered in wax, so I knew it hadn't all been a fantasy. I padded out to the kitchen, found a case knife, and peeled as much of the wax off me as I could reach. There was no way I was going to try the grungy shower in this house, and cold water—there surely being no hot water available—wouldn't help.

I dressed and went outside. No Angel and no Harley. I'd been used, abused, and thrown aside. There was nothing that the Drummer magazine layouts had on me. This was more than Key West had been. It had been frightening, and it had been painful. And it had been glorious. I never had been taken that totally before. I was scared and ashamed and walking on the clouds.

I walked up the driveway and out onto the road. Not too far down the road, a Cadillac sedan came up behind me and honked its horn. Jim Slocum agreed to give me a ride to Main Street in Clarksburg and refrained from asking questions after it was obvious I wasn't going to answer them. All I had to do for him was to lean over from the passenger seat in a remote parking area of the William Rogers Clark Park on the way into town and give him a vanilla blow job.

Usually he paid for it; this time the taxi ride covered the bill. Harkening back to having been insulted when Angel asked me for a price, I decided I was a too-tier provider. The Angels of the world didn't pay; the Jim Slocums did.

"Your car was here when we opened up this morning," Jewel said, when I entered the back door of the Coffee Palace and hobbled in. The ass hurt, yes, but the balls ached, having been totally drained of cum—not to mention crushed.

"I didn't go home last night. I went somewhere else."

"That dangerous-looking hunk who was sitting on his Harley out there when we closed?"

"Yep," I answered, noncommittally as I started up the coffee machines. I saw no reason to keep secrets from Jewel. I never had—other than not telling him I wasn't thrilled he had so obviously gone "girl."

"What's that all over your arms?"

"Wax," I said. "Candle wax."

Jewel whistled. "Did we perhaps have a Key West night?"

"More than that," I answered, not looking around.

"So, you met Angelo Fonti." The voice was Phil's. He was standing in the door to the kitchen, a big grin on his face.

"Who?"

"Angelo Fonti. The guy who was in here in the quiet hour yesterday. The burger and fries."

"You know him?"

"I knew the family. They had a farm out east of town. Wops. A strange crew. There were stories about happenings out there—and about this kid, Angelo. Suddenly just packed up and left. Nothing's happening out there now. Just as well they left. Didn't fit in here."

I almost laughed at the "nothing happening out there" comment. If Phil only knew. He probably thought his fetishes were what was happening. He didn't have a clue. But Angel was telling the truth then. He was here to sign papers on the sale of that farm. It was his farm. He wasn't squatting. But it also meant he was just passing through.

Well, he had used me and thrown me aside. That was that. I wouldn't give it much thought.

"You're covered with goop," Phil said, not curious enough to pursue the question of what goop and why. "Go home and clean up. I don't want the customers to see you that way. And change that damn shirt. The statement of 'Anywhere Else' doesn't cut it with the customers here either. Most of our customers are stuck in Clarksburg, just like we are, and will continue to be stuck in Clarksburg."

I went home and stood under a hot shower until I could get the wax—all that I could reach—melted off my body. And it certainly wasn't true that I didn't give Angel another thought. He was all I thought about the whole day.

Thus, at 5:45, I wasn't driving home. I was driving out to the old Fonti farm. I'd kept mental notes of where it was from here while Jim Slocum was driving me into town.

The Harley was there, in the backyard of the run-down house, when I pulled in. But so was an old farm truck. It looked like one that Jim Slocum drove into town occasionally. But surely it couldn't be Slocum's—unless, of course, they were doing a walkthrough of the house. It stood to reason that Slocum was the Realtor on the sale.

I knew I should turn the Civic around and drive out of there, but I'd come all this way. I don't even know why I'd come here. Angel had cast me aside after using me hard. What else could I hope for but more pain and sadism? Yeah, I guess that's what I was hoping for, truth be told. More releases. Coming until my balls ached. A little fear with my sex.

I walked around the house, as quietly as possible. I'd just peek in the windows and assure myself that Jim Slocum was there in connection with the sale of the farm. I couldn't see him and Angel together for any other purpose.

There was a Slocum there, all right, but it wasn't Jim. It was Jim's eighteen-year-old Wittenberg University son, Jason. And it depended on your definitions on whether it was a social or a business call.

They were in the living room—Angel and Jason. Both naked. Jason was suspended from the ceiling on a chain with wrist restraints. Jason could barely stand on his tippy toes and move a limited distance each way from center to try, unsuccessfully, to escape the flicking of the multistrand leather whip on his torso and legs. He was in full erection, so I decided he didn't need to have the cavalry called in. Angel was in erection too, and my eyes immediately went to enjoying the undulation of the blue dragon tattoo on his chest as he swung the whip and connected with a snap and a jerk of Jason's body. I could hear Jason's muffled responses, but I couldn't hear whether he was begging Angel to stop or egging him on, because he was wearing a ball gag—no doubt the same one with my teeth marks in it from the previous night.

I stayed around long enough to see Angel dispense with the whip, run his hands over Jason's body, to crush Jason's balls with his fist in that way I remembered so well—making Jason's eyes water just as mine had done—and to watch him fuck Jason. Jason was flexible. I think he was on the Wittenberg gymnastic team. He managed to hold his legs straight out to the side, toes pointed, as Angel held his thighs up with his hands and fucked up into him from the rear. I watched through the point at which Jason, young and virile, shot his load in a high arc across the room. And I watched until I was sure that Angel, with a jerk and a little victory cry, had bathed Jason's insides.

Knowing Angel, even though it had only been for a day, I continued watching, as he rode Jason to the floor and continued fucking him, doggy style, until he'd come again, and then rolled Jason over, straddled his chest, and made Jason clean his cock with his mouth.

Then I turned, returned to the Civic, and drove off.

Fuck him, I thought. He wanted me so bad that he left me in the house by myself and has already moved on to a younger model.

Still, I wasn't happy.

* * * *

"You left the other day."

My head snapped up. It was 3:00 p.m. the next day. Dead time at the Coffee Palace. I had been flipping through copies of Drummer, looking for the depiction of the wax sex. I knew I'd seen it somewhere in these pages before. I thought that looking at it now would give it extra meaning—an extra little jolt to my cock—for me.

The question gave me that jolt, though. I looked up and into Angel's dark blue eyes. The blue dragon wasn't just caged today, it was behind doors. The tight T-shirt Angel was wearing was a solid black.

"You left me, don't you mean?" I responded, trying, probably unsuccessfully, to keep the whine out of my voice. "I woke up and you were gone."

"There wasn't any breakfast in the house. I came back with enough breakfast sandwiches to choke a horse and had to eat them myself. If I become a fatty, it's your fault." He was just laughing it off. There was a worse part to this.

"You could have left a note or something."

It hit me then. He hadn't left me. God, he hadn't walked out on me. My spirits were soaring—at least until the memory of Jason's visit to the farm roared in.

"Not much in the way of paper or pen in the house," Angel answered.

"I came back last evening. Jason Slocum was there."

"I know that you knew that. I saw you watching us from outside. You couldn't have been too disgusted. You stayed through the first show. You could have come inside and I would have done you both in some special way. Maybe bound you together hanging from the hook, his cock inside you, and flogged you both together."

I knew it shouldn't have, but that made me tremble in arousal. I'm sure he wasn't lying.

"Just the first show? How many shows—?"

"There were only three. Jason doesn't have your stamina. He also didn't hold my interest as long as you did. He doesn't bring out the creative juices in me like you do."

"Is that some sort of compliment?" The suspended flogging and fuck seemed quite creative enough to me. I sure would have liked to have Angel do that to me.

"Yes, it is. Doesn't it sound like a compliment? I want to fuck you again. I want to take you beyond where we went."

I could feel my chest tighten, my air becoming constricted. I wondered if Angel could hear me panting. I was hard hard again. Yes, dammit, I wanted it.

"But you went right to Jason. You didn't come to find out why I'd walked away."

"For most of the day I'd thought that's what you did—walked away. And I had to give you that right. Seeing you coming back, I then knew it hadn't been too much. You wouldn't have come back if you didn't want more of it. You wanted more of it, didn't you, Casey?"

"Yes," I answered in a small voice—although not immediately. I was still struggling with myself on my own wants. But, shit, I wanted Angel to go on and on.

"You want more if it, don't you? You want it now. You want it harder. You want it more cruel. You want to show me stuff in Drummer and have me do it to you, don't you?"

"Yes. But if you're going to run right to the next—"

"I'll fuck anyone I want, anytime I want. Got that?" Angel growled. "If you accept that, most of the time it will be you. Can you live with that?"

"What are you saying?"

"I'm leaving town. Are you going with me?"

"Just up and leave? Just like that?"

"Yes, just like that. What is it you want, Casey? Clarksburg or excitement? Excitement and fear and not knowing what comes next? Pain and unbounded ecstasy? Do you want to live or do you want to die along with Clarksburg? You can always come back to Clarksburg; you can't always move ahead into new sexual testing."

"Well, when you put it like that."

The shot came out of nowhere, his fist connecting with my chin. I went down to the floor behind the counter in shock and total surprise. Then he was behind the counter, dragging me up by my hair, unzipping his leather pants, forcing his cock between my lips, making me suck him off.

"This is what you want, baby, isn't it? The excitement of never knowing what it will be when. This goes with the territory."

I couldn't argue with him. It was exactly what I wanted.

He gave into my only request before we left the Clarksburg area, me just leaving the Coffee Palace with him, thrown over his shoulder and dumped on the Harley, leaving my whole world behind, not even saying good-bye to Phil and Jewel, who were having their own party in the kitchen.

He took me back to the farmhouse, suspended me from the ceiling, flogged me, and gave me the same fucking I'd watched him give Jason Slocum the day before.

"I was thinking of your body the whole time I was doing Jason Slocum," he whispered in my ear as he was releasing my wrists.

I soared up to heaven on the comment.

"Did I give you what you want, Daddy?" I asked.

"You will always give me what I want. We will keep at it until you do. Now I have a little surprise for you before we go. Casey, I want you to meet Neal. He's going to be riding with us. That's after he and I ride you together, of course."

Angel laughed, as I turned to see that a hulking black man, swathed in black leather, had entered the room.

I immediately began to pant and Angel embraced me close so I wouldn't entertain any idea of bolting.

All I can reveal beyond the obvious about the surprise was that it was glorious and far, far more than Key West, where, before the week was out, I'd been doubled more than once. But nothing like Angel and Neal did it, right there, right then.