By His Rules (2 page)

vague, obligatory “yes, Sir” he’d given Daddy moments

ago. He meant this one with everything in him.

The crowd parted to let them through. Scott steered

Aiden by the hair, stopping at the coat check to put on a

long jacket. It physically hurt Aiden to see the leather

straps of Scott’s harness disappear under the coat.

Outside of the club, the night air was cool and

soothed some of the heat from Aiden’s cheeks and groin.

Scott eased his grip on Aiden’s hair, probably afraid

some vanilla would see them and call the cops. He

guided Aiden across the street to the parking lot with a

hand on Aiden’s neck. Aiden half wanted to stop

walking and just lean into that touch.

“I don’t know what I want to do to you first,” Scott

remarked casually. “Fuck you or beat you.” He hit a

button on his key chain and his car blinked to life. Scott

opened the passenger door and shoved Aiden inside.

“You’ve got a great ass. I remember that. I can’t wait to

turn it red.”

Aiden’s breath caught. Black and blue was more

like it, if their last session was anything to go by. Scott

was rough, rougher than any top Aiden had ever played

with. But that was part of Scott’s allure. The rush of fear

the man inspired went straight to Aiden’s groin.

They drove for a few minutes in silence. Aiden

noted how empty the streets were, how agonizing it was

to wait at red lights when there was no one else at the

intersection.
Red
lights. Everything was red. Scott’s car,

the industrial haze of the night sky, Aiden’s cheeks as he

thought about what lay in store…

Scott said, “I suppose I could tie you up, arms

above your head, and make you drink a fuck ton of

water. Then you’d have to hold your piss while I fucked

you raw.”

Aiden gulped. He already had to go—bad. And if

Scott made him drink water…

“What do you think, boy?” Scott demanded.

“Um, I—whatever would please you, Sir.”

“You don’t have an opinion on holding your piss

while I fuck you?”

“I, um—no, Sir.” What was up with all the um-ing?

Pull it together, Cole.

“If you went in your pants, know what I’d do? I’d

make you take those pants off and put them over your

head, so you couldn’t breathe anything but your own

filth. Then I’d bend you over the bed and take my belt to

your wet little ass until you squealed.”

God. Foul as the image was, it brought his cock

shooting up, making him even more painfully aware of

his full bladder.

“What do you think of that? I’d probably whack

your little dick a couple of times too.”

Aiden couldn’t help himself. He moaned, running a

hand over the front of his pants.

Scott glanced at him. “Touch yourself, slut. Go on.

I’m watching.”

When Aiden hesitated, Scott reached over and

placed a hand on his thigh. Aiden let out a shuddering

breath as the warm weight of Scott’s hand traveled

slowly up, finally passing over the bulge in the front of

his jeans. Scott’s fingers played with the bulge, wiggling

it like a loose tooth. Aiden tipped his head back, arched

his back, and jutted his pelvis forward to give Scott

easier access.

Suddenly Scott smacked the inside of Aiden’s thigh

with the back of his hand. Aiden yelped and started to

clamp his legs shut, but Scott grabbed his knee and

thrust it to the side, forcing his legs open again.

The car swerved, and Scott straightened it out again

one-handed. He whacked the inside of Aiden’s other

thigh. “I
said
touch yourself.” Scott alternated smacks on

Aiden’s inner thighs, his hand coming dangerously close

to Aiden’s crotch as Aiden fought to keep his legs open.

Aiden began to whimper in time with the blows, jerking

and rolling in his seat as he tried to get Scott’s hand to

graze his cock or balls.

Scott laughed. “Oh, we’re gonna have fun tonight.”

Aiden rubbed himself through his jeans, the sting

from Scott’s slaps still crawling up and down his thighs.

He put his head back on the seat rest and tried to stretch

his legs out. He had to piss bad, and the sensation of

being full and desperate was turning him on. Fuck,

everything was turning him on right now.

“Jerk yourself, slut,” Scott ordered.

Arousal ripped through Aiden at the sharpness of

Scott’s voice, at the word “slut,” and he tried his best to

tug his dick through the denim.

“Stop,” Scott said as they pulled into the driveway

of a one-story, brown brick house. “You won’t touch

yourself again tonight without my permission. Is that

clear?”

“Yes, Sir.” Aiden tried to hide his frustration. He

would give anything to keep touching himself right now.

Or better yet, to have Scott touch him…

Scott got out. Aiden reached for his door handle

and stopped. Scott was probably one of those tops who

didn’t want a sub to do anything without permission.

Scott came around and opened Aiden’s door. He reached

in and grabbed Aiden’s right nipple through his tight

gray tee. Aiden bit back a cry as Scott pulled him out of

the car and led him by his tit up the driveway and onto

the front porch, where he took hold of both of Aiden’s

nipples, rolling and squeezing them. Aiden closed his

eyes.

“You like that? You’re into pain, I remember. A

little pain slut.”

Aiden tolerated pain better than a lot of subs he

knew, but it was the mindfuck he was really into. And

Scott knew how to mess with a sub’s mind as well as his

body, knew ways of establishing unequivocal control

that no sub would dare doubt or resist.

“Mmn.” His tits hurt like nothing else, and his heart

butted up against his chest.

Scott released him to unlock the door, then sent

Aiden into the dark hallway with a swat to his rear. Scott

turned on the light. The house was clean and tidy.

Framed photos on the wall depicted decidedly

nondeviant scenes—a barn covered in snow, a

waterwheel, a duck hunt.

Aiden didn’t have too much time to dwell on decor.

He was shepherded into the kitchen and ordered to

stand in the center of the room while Scott fetched a beer

and a bottled water from the fridge. Scott opened his

beer on the table’s edge and sat down. He swigged his

beer, watching Aiden.

“Strip,” he said quietly.

Aiden pulled off his T-shirt and then undid his

jeans, sliding them to the floor. He tried to step out of

them, but his left leg got caught in the bunched denim

and he floundered until he was able to reach down and

untangle himself. He hesitated at the waistband of his

briefs. There was something terrifying yet wickedly hot

about the idea of standing naked in this quiet room, with

Scott’s gaze on him.

“What are you waiting for?”

Aiden flushed and removed his underwear. He

held on to his clothes, not sure if Scott wanted him to

fold them and place them somewhere.

“Drop them,” Scott ordered. “Hands behind your

head.”

Aiden dropped the clothes and clasped his hands

behind his head, utterly exposed. His cock strained

upward, as red as he imagined his face must be, its web

of veins visibly pulsing. He felt Scott look him up and

down, and struggled to keep his gaze on the floor. He

knew he had a hot body, slim and well-proportioned

with softly defined muscles and pale, smooth skin.

“Nice enough,” Scott muttered.

Aiden felt a flash of resentment.
Nice enough
? You

couldn’t find a better-looking sub at Obey, unless you

really had a thing for barely legal blond supertwinks.

“You’re too thin. Could do with some bulking up.

Pretty hips. And I like your hair. What’s that color called

—like a reddish brown?” Scott snapped his fingers.

“Chestnut. Like a horse.”

Aiden tried not to let it bother him that Scott was

sitting there appraising him as though he were an

animal. He reminded himself that every minute Scott

spent assessing him was a minute Scott didn’t spend

torturing him.

“Turn around,” Scott said. “Let me see your ass.”

Aiden turned.

“Nice. Small but well-shaped. Needs some color,

but I’ll fix that.” He stood and approached.

Aiden jumped as Scott placed a hand on his butt.

“Think I’ll have a hard time stuffing my cock up

that tight little ass?”

“No, Sir. I mean, I’ll take it.”

Despite how hard the conversation was making

Aiden, there was something ridiculous about it too. He

didn’t like when tops talked about their monster dicks or

how Aiden’d better take them to the hilt without

whining. He liked the psychological aspect of BDSM

play, but there were always parts of any scene that felt

so… fake.

Aiden’s cock bobbed against his belly, and he

wished to God Scott would touch him. As if reading his

mind, Scott said, “You should know your dick doesn’t

concern me in the least. Your ass and mouth are what I

care about. I’m going to use you however I like, all night,

and I could give a shit if you squirt or not. Face me.”

Aiden did.

Scott’s dark eyes glittered, and Aiden swallowed on

a wave of arousal.

“What’s your safe word?”

“Mushroom,” Aiden said.

Scott laughed. “Mushroom.” He grabbed the water

bottle from the table and uncapped it. “Sit down.” He

took a seat himself and handed Aiden the water. “Drink

that. And tell me about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?” Aiden asked. “Sir?”

“What’s your name, where’re you from, what are

your hobbies… shit like that.”

Aiden took a nervous swig of water. This was

different from the scenarios he was used to. Because

Scott was different from most tops. Most tops were like

Daddy—they drooled over Aiden like a prize, could

hardly wait to get him through the door before they were

on him, pawing, yanking, panting… as though if they

didn’t claim him right away, he might disappear. They

often wanted to kiss Aiden or pet him, make him feel

good so that he’d want to come home with them again.

That wasn’t what Aiden was after. He wanted a true top,

in control and insecurity-free. He wanted to feel owned,

used, and utterly debased.

“My name’s Aiden,” he began.

“Shithead,” Scott said.

“What?”

“Your name’s Shithead.” Scott said it as though he

was correcting a minor grammatical error in Aiden’s

speech.

“Oh,” Aiden said uncertainly. “Okay.”

“While you’re here, your name’s Shithead. Drink

that water.”

Aiden took a few gulps.

“Where’re you from, Shithead?”

“Tremont? It’s about fifteen minutes north of here.”

Aiden drank until a little less than half the bottle

remained.

“What do you do?” Scott asked.

“I work at a restaurant right now. But I studied

theater in college. I think I—”

Scott snorted into his beer. “That’s why you’re so

popular.”

Aiden tilted his head, not sure what Scott meant.

“I’ve heard about you. You do it all. Choirboy,

army recruit, rent boy, slave… That must be why you’re

so good at role-play. You’re an actor.”

Aiden wasn’t sure whether Scott was mocking him

or complimenting him, so he kept quiet and drank the

rest of the water, ignoring his bladder’s protest.

Scott got another bottle from the fridge and put it in

front of him.

“So let’s get your story straight,” Scott said. “Your

name’s Shithead. You crawled out of my asshole for the

sole purpose of serving me. Your hobbies are sucking

my cock, taking my cock up your ass, and screaming

while I strap your butt raw. Got it?”

In spite of the water, Aiden’s throat went dry. “Yes,

Sir,” he managed.

“Good.” Scott reached out and stroked Aiden’s jaw

with one finger. “Come on. Let’s tack you up.”

Scott took Aiden by the arm and pulled him from

the kitchen down a narrow hall. They stopped at the last

room on the right. Scott pushed open the door, flipped

on the light, and led Aiden through the bedroom and

into the attached bathroom. He spun Aiden so Aiden