By His Rules (4 page)

a pretty boy who calls himself submissive but only ever

really thinks about his own desires?”

“I do not!” Aiden glared at Scott, startled by his

own outburst.

“Don’t you?” Scott let go of Aiden’s hair and

straightened up. “I imagine you’ve pleased some men in

the past. Men who don’t really know what they want—

who call themselves doms because it makes them feel

powerful but who have no real control over themselves

or over you.”

Aiden’s skin prickled. He knew Scott was right.

Most tops he played with didn’t seem truly in control.

There was usually something a little sad and desperate

about them. They liked to give orders, they liked to have

their dicks sucked, but they didn’t really know how to

earn
Aiden’s surrender. His trust.

Was that such a bad thing? Nobody could be a total

top or a total bottom 24-7—that was the kind of shit you

read about in stories. BDSM play could be intense,

painful, and a complete mindfuck—but it was
play
. It

was meant to turn you on and get you off. “I’ve never

had anyone complain about my level of submission, Sir,”

Aiden said as civilly as he could manage.
And you weren’t

exactly complaining last night, when you were shooting down

my throat…

Scott shrugged. “It’s up to you. If you’re satisfied

with what you are, then walk away. Spend your life

haunting the clubs, searching for someone who will give

you what you’re secretly longing for.” He leaned

forward again. “Get out of my house, little boy, if all you

want is to play games.”

“I don’t… ” Aiden paused, swallowed.

Scott lifted an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“I don’t just want to play games.” If Scott had

something else in mind besides games, Aiden was all for

it.

“You sure?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Scott took a step back. “Three nights a week.

Monday, Wednesday, and Sunday. You come here

straight after work. The door will be unlocked. Strip,

kneel in my hall, and don’t speak. You may wait there

thirty seconds, ten minutes, three hours, or all night. I’ll

get to you when I have time. I’ll play with you any way I

like. I may whip your ass or stick something in it to

prepare you for my cock later. I may tell you exactly

what I think about your pathetic little dick. I may just

stand silently and watch you sweat. Got it?”

Aiden wiped his palms on his jeans. “Yes, Sir.”

“When I dismiss you from the hall, you go to the

bathroom and shower. You make sure your ass and

groin are shaved.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You then go into the bedroom, kneel, and wait for

me.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I’m gonna push you, Shithead.”

Aiden swallowed. “Thank you, Sir.”

“I know your type,” Scott said softly, stroking

Aiden’s hair. “Pretty little subbie boy, used to getting

what he wants. You take a couple of spankings, spend

some time tied up, but at the end of the night, you get

off. You feel satisfied. And that’s what you want, isn’t it?

You want
your
needs met.”

“No, Sir.” Aiden flared again, but whether from

anger at the injustice of the accusation or embarrassment

over its accuracy, it was hard to say.

“Bondage, beatings, clamps, collars—they’re all just

means to a more powerful orgasm, aren’t they?”

“I—Sometimes, Sir.”

“Not here,” Scott said, stroking Aiden’s cheek with

his knuckles. “Not in this house.” He dealt Aiden a hard

backhand across the cheek. “Here, you’re just a piece of

shit.”

Aiden’s eyes watered, and he clutched his cheek.

Scott held out a hand, and Aiden hesitated to take it.

Scott’s eyes hardened, and he snapped his fingers.

“Don’t ever make me tell you something twice,” he

ordered, pulling Aiden up. “Let me see.” He peeled

Aiden’s hand away from his cheek and rubbed the red,

swollen patch he’d created. “Yeah, that hurt, didn’t it?”

he asked with what sounded like real sympathy.

Aiden nodded.

“You’re used to being a good boy, aren’t you?”

Aiden looked at him, confused.

“Unless you’re role-playing. Unless you’re in a

scene where you have to be naughty. But in real life, you

try to be good, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Scott nodded thoughtfully, stroking Aiden’s hair in

a way that made Aiden want to purr—despite the fact

that he was still angry at Scott for slapping him.

“No scenes here. You’re you. You’re mine. And

you’re not always going to be able to be good.

Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do you have questions for me before I dismiss

you for the day?”

“No, Sir.”

“Your training starts next Monday as soon as you

get off work. Don’t change; don’t eat. Come straight here.

I want you to have the week to think about this, about

me. If you change your mind, simply don’t come

Monday night. But I won’t give you a second chance. Am

I clear?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Another thing—during the week, as you prepare

for your first night of training, you’re not to touch

yourself.”

Aiden’s jaw nearly dropped. How could he

possibly… especially after being hard all night?

“If you have an orgasm between now and Monday,

I will know.”

How
? Aiden wanted to demand.

“Is there a problem?” Scott asked, watching Aiden’s

face carefully.

“No, Sir.”

“I want you to stay focused on me, on your

training, and on what it means to submit.
Truly
submit.

Not just drop a few ‘sirs’ here and there.”

Aiden nodded, trying not to let his gaze fall. Scott’s

eyes were hard and dark, but there was something in his

expression, a distant warmth, a hidden longing, that

flooded Aiden with determination. He wanted Scott to

look on him with kindness. He wanted Scott to be proud

of him. He wanted to
belong
to somebody, not just for a

night, but forever.

Where did that come from
? Aiden Cole rarely thought

about long-term relationships. He was a new character

every night, serving a new master. This arrangement

with Scott was only temporary—for the purpose of

training.

“I want to hear you say something.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Yes, Sir, what?”

“Yes, Sir, I’ll—I won’t touch myself. I’ll do what you

say.”

Scott patted his cheek. “Yes,” he said. “You will.”

Scott wore a tight T-shirt, and through it Aiden

could see ridges of muscle. He thought about what Scott

had said last night about Aiden needing to bulk up.

Aiden figured he could hit the gym hard this week. He’d

never felt his body was inadequate before, but Scott’s

standards were high. And Aiden was going to meet those

standards.

Scott didn’t speak as he drove Aiden to his car, still

parked behind Obey. It was earlier than Aiden had

thought—just after seven o’clock. As Aiden got out, Scott

said, “One week to change your mind.”

Aiden met his eyes without fear or doubt. “I’m not

going to change my mind, Sir,” he said calmly. “I’m

ready.”

Scott gave him a slight nod, then put his car in gear

and drove away.

As Aiden walked to his car, he noticed two figures

standing outside the club, one tall and lean, the other

short and round. The shorter figure glanced Aiden’s way

and waved briefly. It was Daddy, and the man with him

was Keaton Hughes—the top who was apparently out of

Aiden’s league. For a bizarre second, Aiden wondered if

Daddy and Keaton had hooked up. But they were fully

clothed, standing against Obey’s brick wall and talking

while Daddy smoked a cigarette. Had they been here all

night? Keaton followed Daddy’s gaze, raised one hand,

and smiled.

He doesn’t seem like much of a top at all, thought

Aiden, waving back. Though he had to admit, that smile

was something to behold. He got in his car and drove

home.

At work, Aiden didn’t even notice the ring on

Hera’s finger until she stuck it in his face for the

umpteenth time and said, “A
hem
.”

“What’s that?” Aiden asked. They were on break at

Joe’s, the local steakhouse where they both waited tables.

They sat out back, the curb cold through Aiden’s jeans. If

he looked closely, he could see his breath.

“What’s it look like?” Hera lit a cigarette.

“A cheap zirconium ring?”

“Exactly.” She exhaled and grinned. “Kim and

Sloane and I made it official.”

“What, your status as the only three lesbians in

history who don’t know how to use a socket wrench?”

“We’re engaged.”

Aiden tried not to let his surprise show. “Hate to

break it to you, but polygamy’s still illegal. Even in

Utah.”

She swatted his shoulder. “We’re not actually

getting married. It’s symbolic.”

“Symbolic of your what? Your coven’s union under

the Earth Mother?”

“We are
not
a coven.”

“Kim’s a witch.”

“She’s a vegan.”

“What’s the difference?”

“No pointy hats.”

Aiden shrugged. “She’s always throwing stuff

called, like, ‘arrowroot powder’ and ‘agave nectar’ into

pots. You tell me that’s not witchcraft.”

“It’s dairy-free living.”

“Whatever.”

Hera wrapped her thin jacket tighter around her

shoulders. “You could try being happy for me.”

“Congratulations on your symbolic engagement to

a riptide of estrogen.”

“Thanks. Want some of my granola bar?”

“Not hungry.” Aiden bit a nail and examined the

ragged edge. “So you don’t feel freaked out at all? Like

you’ve got a ball and chain on your leg? Or, I guess, two

balls and a chain?”

“You’re thinking of what’s between
your
legs. I

don’t feel freaked out. I feel… happy.”

“It’s too bad you can’t tell your parents.”

Hera stared at the shopping plaza in the distance.

She opened her mouth, then closed it. “Yeah.”

“I think you could. Your mom at least. She’s cool.”

“Right. They had a hard enough time when I came

out. Polyamory? Uh-uh.”

“I mean, they named you Hera. They had to have

known you’d turn out weird.”

“You’re one to talk about weird.”

“What are the odds Joe’s would end up with
two

perverts working for them?” Aiden asked. “Welcome to

Joe’s. Our specials tonight are ménage marriages with a

side of sexual deviance… ”

“Speak for yourself. I don’t go in for the whips and

chains shit. Polyamory is
not
perverted.”

Aiden grinned. He liked Hera a lot. She was

twenty-four, a year older than he was. She was a sculptor

who’d forgone college, deciding she’d rather work a shit

job like Joe’s and sculpt in her spare time than spend

money on a degree. Her girlfriends, Kim and Sloane,

were pretty cool, though the few times Aiden had met

Kim, she hadn’t said much.

He couldn’t imagine trying to make a committed

three-way relationship work. A one-night threesome was

hard enough. But Hera took the challenges of polyamory

in stride. It really was amazing that at Joe’s of all places,

he’d found someone he could talk to about his lifestyle.

Even if Hera didn’t consider her poly relationship

“kinky” or “deviant,” most people would. And it helped

to know there was at least one person he could count on

to keep his own secrets safe.

Rima Wells, their manager, stuck her head out the

back door. “Break’s over. We’ve got tables up the ass.”

The door shut.

Aiden got slowly to his feet. He ran his thumb over

the nail he’d bitten too short, liking the sting of it.

“Speaking of ‘up the ass,’” Hera said. “You’re

walking kind of bowlegged today.”

“Am not.”

“Was he good?”

“I’m not one to whip and tell… ”

“Like you’d ever be the one doing the whipping.

C’mon, tell me quick, before Rim Job comes back out

here.”

Aiden leaned close to her. “His name’s Scott. I’m

seeing him again next week.”

“Wow, a second date? Next thing you know, you’ll

be the one with a cheap zirconium ring.”

“Shut up. He’s not like anyone I’ve ever met. He’s a

real dom.”

“Ooh. What’s a ‘real dom’ do?”

“Whatever the hell he wants. He doesn’t care about