Authors: Catt Ford
A Strong Hand (14 page)
A Strong Hand
by Catt Ford
Nick stared at him in disbelief. "What are you? The cavalry, coming to the rescue?" He giggled at the image of Gabe, who was wearing a purple silk poet shirt with ruffles today, prancing about in the role of hero, even though he was touched by the other man's concern. He'd no idea that Gabe felt anything toward him other than a desire to taunt him until he blushed and ran.
"Why did you let her get to you like that?" Gabe asked, serious for once.
Nick couldn't bring himself to confide in Gabe that he didn't like watching her flirt with Damian. "I don't know; she just got to me."
"She calls herself Mistress Bettie but don't get misled by the window dressing," Gabe said, starting to powder Nick's face. "Where's that eyeliner?"
"I don't wear eyeliner." Nick spoke absently, his mind consumed with the new information. "I just assumed that she—"
"You will for this shot, honey." Gabe pulled the skin taut near Nick's right eye with his thumb and started smudging the liner into the lash line. "Just because she wears that
fetching
leather bustier and those
killer
heels doesn't mean a thing. She's a wannabe."
"How well does Damian know her?" Nick could have bitten off his tongue at how that came out. Jealous didn't even begin to describe it. He found his fists clenching around the forgotten crop.
"He doesn't have to know her; he knows how to read people." Gabe smiled as Nick writhed uncomfortably, 129
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remembering how well Damian had read
him.
"It comes with the territory."
"Are you into this S&M thing too?" Nick asked before he could stop himself.
Gabe smiled secretively. "Maybe it's better that you not know."
"Maybe," Nick muttered. He suddenly remembered that if Gabe answered his question, perhaps the stylist might be asking the same thing of him. And Nick was quite sure he was not ready to share.
* * * *
Damian took in a quick breath when he saw Nick, his eyes dark and mysterious ringed with the black liner. Nick was still a bit uncertain about being hauled out here to be in a shot with Mistress Bettie. He wasn't afraid of her; she wielded none of the erotic power over him that Damian did. But that didn't mean he had to like her ragging at him or having to pose with her.
"Come over here, pretty boy, and get on your knees,"
Bettie called enticingly to Nick.
Nick opened his mouth to retort but Damian forestalled him. "If anything, I might put you on your knees to him."
"Oh no, I think—"
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"But you're not the photographer and we will do this my way," Damian said, his eyes still on Nick.
"Bunch of fucking poofters," Bettie muttered.
Damian turned to look at her and she lowered her eyes, biting her lip.
Ashley was laughing at her. "Now it's not really wise to insult the client, is it, my dear?"
"I took that as a compliment," Damian said. "Nick, please go stand next to Bettie."
"
Mistress
Bettie," the dark girl corrected, obviously starting to get riled with the needling.
"Face each other, please," Damian said, ignoring her retort. "Bettie, lift up that crop, as if you're about to strike him. You hate that you have to look up to him. Nick, you're not going to let her get away with threatening you."
Her eyes narrowed and Nick, his temper a bit on edge since their earlier confrontation, grabbed her wrist, the muscles of his bicep bulging against the black T-shirt he wore as they strained against each other.
The two dark models glared at each other, startled when Damian said, "Yes! That's exactly what I want. Hold it right there. More! Push against each other. I want to see those muscles work. Yes, that's it! You can stop now."
Both models let go of the crop at the same moment, causing it to fall to the floor. Nick bent to pick it up at the same time as Bettie, and they banged their heads together smartly.
Bettie rubbed her head and giggled. "This isn't over yet, pretty boy. I'll get you somehow."
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"Not if I get you first," Nick retorted. "Well,
that
must have looked brilliant. Thank fuck Damian didn't get a shot of that."
"Who says I didn't?" Damian said.
"Blackmail material," Nick said accusingly. He shivered slightly, remembering that Damian actually owned photos of him that could be used for that purpose.
As if he knew just what Nick was thinking, Damian shook his head slightly. "Why don't you two get ready for your next poses?"
He frowned as he watched Nick walk off the set with the pretty girl hanging onto his arm, wondering why he had thought to pair them. When he first saw them glaring at each other and struggling over the crop, he was inspired by the combative chemistry, but watching them laugh together now reminded him of Nick's doubts about being gay.
"Let's see it," Ashley demanded, coming up behind Damian and interrupting his reverie.
Damian went to the computer and downloaded the shots, setting them to view in slow rotation.
"Revolt of the sub," Ashley said. "Damned fine shot!" he exclaimed, looking at the two lithe bodies braced dynamically against each other, struggling for control.
Damian stopped the slide show, examining the best shot.
"But which is which?"
"Why, Nick, isn't it? No, it's hard to tell really," Ashley mused. "He looks a bit of a switch there, not cowed by her at all."
"I suppose there's a little switchery in all of us," Damian answered, chuckling at the look of horror on Ashley's face.
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"My dear Ian, there is absolutely no truth to that rumor at
all
!"
"You were born holding a cane then? How pleased your mother must have been."
"Yes. That's my story and I'm sticking to it." Ashley peered more closely at the screen, where both model's faces were clearly visible, unlike all the other photos. "Did you take this for yourself or the catalog?"
Without answering directly, Damian brought up the shot in Photoshop and cropped it in all around, to where it still revealed the stubborn set of Nick's mouth and chin. He cut off the sides, keeping the angular attitude of their bodies, but the new framing completely altered the emotive quality of the photograph. Instead of two angry people struggling for a whip, the image took on the aura of a dangerous dance of seduction, as if a couple were doing some kind of dissolute tango around a whip for a maypole. There was no telling who was in control, but the way the light fell on the taut muscles of both model's arms led directly to the gleaming crop, making it the focal point of the picture. "The play of masculine and feminine, showing the intrinsic power of each."
"I don't know how you see these things," Ashley said, shaking his head. "That is far more seditious than actually seeing that crop strike the flesh. Dammit, I was
there,
and
I
want to know what happened next between this pair."
"Now that really
is
a compliment," Damian said. "Thank you."
"Best catalog ever," Ashley murmured. "What are you going to do to top this next year?"
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Damian looked startled. "This was a one-time project. You said so yourself."
"And you believed me," Ashley said, smug with pity. "Even after all this time, how little you know me."
* * * *
Unlike other purveyors of erotic toys, Ashley's company offered a wider array of colors, rather than just the usual black.
"Black is so dull," Ashley declared, watching as Damian worked with the three models. "I like a bit of color."
"At both ends, no doubt," Damian teased.
Ashley laughed. "You know me too well. On some issues."
It was gratifying to see Damian joking about the subject; he'd been alone for a long time. And now Ashley realized he'd been right to wait. No casual encounter would have satisfied him like whatever it was he was doing with Nick. Ashley could tell that he was a special young man. Not merely beautiful on the outside, but with a sweetness and naïveté about the life that suited the photographer's style. Without ever having played with him or seen him in action, Ashley intuited that Damian preferred the mental aspect of dominating another man, rather than taking pleasure in the technical mastery required to leave the marks that he himself enjoyed.
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Damian straightened up and stretched his back. "That's the regular collars done. Now for that new line you've got.
Who's going to show those off?"
"Nick for sure in that wine number. And I think Markie for the black. I do like a blond in black," Ashley declared, rubbing his hands.
"Why not use Derek?" Damian asked mischievously. "He's got a lovely, vulnerable throat," he said, privately thinking that Nick's was much more tender and sweet. And he couldn't help but notice how Ashley and Derek eyed each other whenever they thought the other one wouldn't catch on.
Ashley's lips thinned to a straight line and his green eyes grew cold. "He thinks I'm a complete pervert. A sadist," he said grimly. "I'm sure he wouldn't be interested."
"What happened between you two?" Damian asked. "Why do you keep him on if it's such a sore subject between you?"
"He's free to leave if he likes," Ashley shrugged. "I'm sure I don't care."
Sure you don't,
Damian thought. "Well,
I
have a sub to put into a collar."
"Sorry about that. I rather jumped the gun yesterday."
Ashley had the grace to look abashed.
"Trying to force my hand, Ash?"
"I actually don't know what I was thinking, but I apologize for taking liberties with your sub."
Damian thought Ashley was sincere; he sounded confused, which was unusual for the ordinarily brash man. "If you can't be happy, you want me to be? Vicarious romance?" he asked, curling his lip sarcastically.
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"So it's a romance, then?" Ashley pried gleefully.
"You bounce back too easily," Damian laughed. "It most definitely is not a romance. I'm just helping him discover himself, and that's
all
you're going to get out of me."
"Don't be too sure of that," Ashley called after him.
"Nicholas, may I see you in my office, please?" Damian asked, aware of Derek's big green eyes fixed on them.
"Sure, sir," Nick said cheerfully, but he turned immediately to follow Damian.
The photographer closed the door and pointed to the floor.
The thought of kneeling to the Bettie Paige girl was just ...
distasteful, but Damian had only to point and Nick couldn't get on his knees fast enough.
Damian stood motionless, staring at the boy kneeling in front of him. It was a distinct possibility that Nick might want to move on from him, now that he'd seen for himself that there were women who were into the scene. Damian had no problem imagining Bettie bending Nick over a table and spanking him, and it was eating him up that Nick might prefer it that way. The boy seemed to be struggling to come to grips with the fact that he was engaging in kinky sexual acts with another man.
"You were standing very close to Bettie, pet, and you let her touch you," Damian said sternly.
"You posed us, sir," Nick said in confusion, not sure what he'd done wrong. Damian couldn't possibly be angry about what happened out on the set, could he? After all, it was only for the photograph.
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"I did," Damian agreed. "But are you sure that's all it was?
Perhaps you find Bettie attractive?"
Nick looked up in shock, and then quickly lowered his eyes once more, gripping his hands tightly behind his back to still their trembling, afraid that Damian was going to use Bettie as an excuse to end what they were doing together.
"Perhaps you'd rather it were Bettie bending you over her lap and warming your bottom?"
"I don't want that, sir," Nick muttered, with a shiver of distaste. "I don't want anyone else to ... do what you do with me."
Damian stared intently at Nick's bent head, as though he were trying to get into the boy's mind for absolute confirmation that Nick wasn't interested in Bettie at all. He hadn't missed the shudder Nick gave, but wasn't quite sure if it meant disgust or arousal.
"Sir?" Nick said anxiously, afraid to ruin what he had with Damian, but determined that he would let the man know something of how he felt.
"What is it, pet?" Damian asked.
"I ... I didn't like it when you were talking and laughing with Bettie," Nick admitted.
"What didn't you like?" Damian asked curiously. "That I was talking to Bettie, or that she was talking to me?"
"It wasn't that you were talking," Nick replied. "It was ...
you looked like you were having fun with her and I thought maybe ... you might want someone more ... more—"
"Experienced?"
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Nick nodded miserably, certain now that Damian was going to tell him that he would prefer someone he didn't have to explain things to.
Damian chuckled and shook his head, amused that they'd both been consumed by the same jealousy. "Bettie and I were talking about riding, pet, that's all. I have no interest in her outside of a shared love of horses. You've said yourself that you don't know if you're gay. I merely thought perhaps it might be more comfortable for you with a woman."
