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Authors: Nikki Sex
Bound and Freed Boxed Set
Bound
and Freed Boxed Set
By
Nikki
Sex
Copyright
2013 by Nikki Sex
This book is protected under the copyright
laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized
use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited.
This
book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and
incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously. All rights reserved.
1. André's Case
Difficile
The naked man was face down and
spread-eagled, cuffed to the St. Andrew's Cross. The X frame was custom made,
and tilted to a 45 degree angle. There was a resting place for the sub's head,
and soft padding for ankles, wrists, and neck.
"I said come for me. You will come. Now," the
stern female voice rang with power, combined with sensual, yet merciless
dominance. Her small soft hand masturbated her sub's erection, while the riding
crop welted his slim youthful thighs, and a butt plug vibrator buzzed in his
ass. The man's back, buttocks and thighs gleamed red on his pale skin, while
the Domme stroked skillfully, and still the man didn't climax.
"Mistress Diana, that is enough, if you
please," said André Chevalier as he came into the room.
The whipping stopped, and Diana removed her hand from the
twenty-two year old man's cock. It was dripping with pre-cum. No surprise
there. Mistress Diana was one of the best.
André tilted his head and studied his client. John
Taylor's lungs were heaving, sucking air into his slim chest, his entire body
covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Around six feet tall, the young man had
attained full growth, yet his lean, well cut form still needed filling out.
John was male model handsome, and his emotionless control, combined with a high
IQ and almost omnipresent skills of observation would, in time, make him a
sought after Dom.
Mistress Diana's gaze met André's and her eyebrows rose,
along with a sardonic smile and slight shrug. André read much from just those
small physical tells. The Dominatrix clearly had no idea why she couldn't make
her sub climax. As an experienced mistress of heterosexual males, Diana had
been totally baffled by John Taylor's resistance. André hid a bubble of
amusement. The consummate professional probably hadn't been perplexed by a man
for many years. This experience wouldn't harm her.
André frowned, was it a shadow, or had the young man's
balls been actually turning blue? Such inhibition! Or was it control? The
stubborn man would not permit himself to orgasm, despite his entire body
demanding release. André moved near the X frame.
"Release him if you please, Mistress Diana,"
André said and gestured toward the butt plug, "and remove anything else
upon his person." As she did so John pushed up and began to move from the
cross, but André put a hand on his back and the youth stilled. "Remain on
the cross John, without the cuffs. Rest comfortably and do me the honor of
remaining by my side. Stay for we shall talk."
As Mistress Diana moved toward the door André reminded
John quietly, "Thank your Mistress, John."
"Thank you, Mistress," came a deep, deadpan
voice.
When they were alone André stroked John, petting and
soothing the back of his head and neck, running his fingers through his thick,
black hair in soft, fond caresses. "Shut your eyes,
mon ami,"
André
said and John obeyed him. "Listen to my voice. Relax now and be
comfortable, for you are safe here with me. You are not a sub,
non.
Yet
as a Dom I am training, I wished for you to fully participate and comprehend
the submissive experience."
"I failed," John said in what André could now
recognize as his utterly careful, emotionless voice – the dispassionate tone he
had when he was hiding an ocean of feeling.
"
Mais no,"
André said, pleased to find
the young man held no anger for his treatment. For unless André was mistaken,
John's flat response hid despair. "You have only exposed more of yourself
to me, John. I tell you now that I understand you, and I comprehend more and
more each day. Shall I flatter you? Shall I tell you that I grow to like and
respect you,
mon ami?
For it is true,
oui.
Your aunt was wise to
send you to me. Hush now. Imagine it is your Aunt Brenda stroking your hair.
Imagine she is here, and she wants you to be happy. Have you done this,
mon
ami?"
There was a long pause, and the slightest of hitches in
his breath. "Yes, André," John finally said.
André pet him lovingly for a few more strokes, and then
lowered his voice, "Brenda wants you to be happy. You know this is true.
Brenda wants you to come,
mon ami
. Come for me, and come for Brenda.
Right now." With one hand on the young man's nape, André put the fingers
of his other hand on John's cock – just barely a touch.
John climaxed instantly. With his hips thrusting and his
long body convulsing, he sprayed and sprayed and sprayed. Yet John made barely
any audible sound.
This young man is only a boy
,
André thought.
What was the oh so crass American saying? Ah, yes. Young,
dumb, and full of cum.
Well, that much was true for André was astonished by
the huge amount of ejaculate that could issue from one man. When the climax was
finished, John's penis remained erect and his entire body trembled.
"Shush, shush," André said, still stroking
John's hair. "Well done,
mon ami
, very well done. I am oh so very
pleased, and I know your Aunt Brenda would be pleased too."
André gave John's hair a little tug, not painful, more in
a compelling, commanding manner. "Let it out now," he said, "for
you have been holding everything inside for much too long. Do not hide from me,
John, for I know who you are. I loved your Aunt Brenda,
oui
, it is true.
I loved her for who she was - a kind soul and a sensitive, caring submissive.
Brenda knew you John, she was probably the only one to do so. And she loved you
very much."
A sob came from John then, a feral, animal sound, raw and
brutal as if it had been torn from his throat. Then John began to cry - not
with normal tears, André realized, no. He sobbed and keened with agony. It was
as if his very heart was pouring out from within him.
For John Taylor's life had been ripped apart, and now he
was lost and utterly alone.
At this moment I am the only one who knows this tormented
young man,
André thought.
And it was a difficult
journey. Yet he will not hide from me now.
"Sit here with me, my friend," André said
taking John's hand. The naked young man stood on shaky legs and stumbled toward
his mentor, his cheeks running with tears. They sat together on the couch and
André held John, his head against his chest, patting and soothing, as he sobbed
and sobbed as if there was no surcease. John's slim young body was wracked with
grief so palpable that it was almost like a separate presence in the room.
Mon Dieu, such loss
,
André thought, his own heart constricting painfully beneath his ribs.
This vulnerable
young man is like a child in his grief. He cries as if there is nothing left
for him. Everything that had made his life worth living has been taken from him.
Until this day and almost this moment, André had been
extremely concerned that John Taylor was a sociopath: detached, emotionless and
without proper human feeling. The impassive and almost clinical way that he
dominated a sub seemed like callous disregard. André had also worried that the
young man had no capacity to love. Instead it seemed that John had been so
tormented that the only way he could endure was to become emotionless, cutting
off his feelings.
John had shown André willingness to learn, and acute
intelligence. In fact the young man was probably a genius in many ways. He was
an excellent actor and could be superficially charming. No wonder André had
worried. With a submissive John was hyperaware of the slightest change, yet he
didn’t seem to bond during a power exchange. Would he use that knowledge to
break a sub down completely?
André had been apprehensive. Was this handsome boy as
cold and unfeeling as he seemed? If André taught him dominance and connection
with a submissive, the youth would increase his knowledge and experience, yet
still André would have failed. For what would be the point? Educating the mind
without educating the heart was no education at all.
André patted and soothed, embracing his grief stricken
client as the young man's tears slowed and he came back to himself.
John
Taylor is not heartless, non,
André thought with vast relief.
He has
simply hidden all feeling deeply, a protective action no doubt learned as a
child.
But to prevent ejaculation! Such impossible control of his body.
André knew now that the young man could only climax in the presence of someone
he cared for, or someone that he trusted. After the amount of time he and André
had spent together, John was learning to trust André, perhaps to even love him.
André allowed himself an internal wry smile, feeling
strangely like a father figure to the lost creature in his arms. There was only
ten years between them in age, and it may as well be a hundred so different
were their life experiences.
André took a deep breath, patting John's back
comfortingly. John's childhood was grounded in consistent betrayal, a lesson
difficult to unlearn. Dependence upon another did not come easily. André
frowned with distaste. The scars the young man had on his back, buttocks and
thighs were thin, numerous and white with age. John's reaction to pain, in a
similar harmonic to that experienced in his past had been important to
determine. Thus André had set up this scene. This session could very well have
ended with violence. The security team was on guard even now, watching. Yet it
had been illuminating, and it had proved a necessary point.
For at least part of his childhood, John had known
fondness, affection and love. John's Aunt Brenda, his mother's older sister -
now dead - had loved him. André had a long letter from her and had received
finance toward the boy's tutelage. Brenda sent that money five years before,
well before her death, but John had refused to come to him. John's aunt had
recognized the Dom in the boy. But had she known of the extremes that he was
capable of?
Six months after Brenda passed away, John had finally
come to André in hopeless misery.
André once more smiled at the young man in his arms,
amused by the paternal feelings he had for him. A sadist without empathy could
only be a monster, and yet André had discovered a human being inside this man –
child.
My darling Brenda
,
André thought, shutting his eyes
. I have taken on this case
difficile,
oui
. Your nephew is lost without your love, ma cher. But with assistance
from the Bon Dieu, we shall help him find peace.
André frowned, and took a
considering look at the young man, who had wrapped himself tightly around
André's torso, unwilling to leave the shelter of his arms.
John was a difficult case, and while André's intervention
would help, it could not bring full resolution. André stroked John's hair, generously
giving him the human contact that was so vital, the connection that the young
man craved. The absolute solution to such a broken spirit, André realized, was
for the young man to discover trust and love once more.
But how long would it take such an injured soul, with a
broken heart to find love?
