New Leather (12 page)

“I was surprised last time. I know what to expect now.”

James stood so close now that Carl could see the sadness that remained in his eyes. “You will not argue with me, Carl. I want to make that perfectly clear.” He kissed him then, making a feast of Carl's mouth.

Carl loved James’ kisses and the way he held him still by the throat. He knew that James preferred he keep his hands down, passive, when James controlled his breath this way. The game was not quite the breath play that made the papers when it went wrong, but James would keep him from taking a breath so that he could breathe into him, providing Carl's air himself.

What Carl found interesting about it was that James tended to do this during an emotional moment. The need to establish himself as the alpha male usually followed an argument or a scene in which James lost control of his lust. Carl could not think what might have James stressed, but he kept his hands at his side when what he really wanted to do was hug the man. His wish to reassure James was a mystery to him.

Carl had begun to undress before his Dom kissed him and the pants hung low on his hips. James ended the kiss and tugged on them now to let them pool around Carl's ankles. Fingers capable of wielding a whip or rolling a pastry massaged his sac, making the balls within rub. Carl's dick filled at the sensation.

“Go to the cross, Carl.” At last! James would see that he was not a lightweight. The thought finished the job of inducing his cock to stand high against his belly.

James could not explain why he felt the cold premonition of fear, but it was there and it was real. Maybe the discussion about his parents was to blame. Maybe Carl's obvious eagerness to prove his ability to take the whip was the problem. Either way, he had to be sharp tonight. If something went wrong, it was not going to be because he wasn't paying attention.

Carl faced the cross, waiting, and James ran his hands over the supple skin— admiring the changes a few short weeks wrought. He'd dropped the extra weight around his middle and his muscles had better definition. His proportions fit his build exactly as they should.

No more stalling. James shook off the mood. He had to be here in the moment and not let his mind wander if he was going to do this.

Carl's breathing picked up as he was secured to the cross. James paused to stroke his head and back until he calmed.

“This is the flogger, Carl. Just let it take you away.” James began.

The rise and fall of the tails and the steady snap as they struck the boy's back and thighs were the only sounds at first. James kept his senses open to the bound man for signs of trouble.

Carl truly enjoys the flogger, he thought. His limbs twitched as the blows fell, but he seemed relaxed otherwise. James used an easy hand for this part of the scene, getting Carl ready for the more intense whip.

Tanned skin became rosy, but the twitches ceased as the man sank into his submission.

James picked up the lightest whip he owned. He intended to work Carl as gently as possible for as long as it took to get him acclimated to the whip. The first several strikes did not ‘wake’ him up too much, but the eighth mark brought out a long moan and James knew Carl was not going to get to fly just yet.

Expecting the boy to safeword on the next stroke, he was surprised when it didn't happen. He experimented with a gentle hit close to the last one and watched Carl bite his lip and shudder. No safeword.

One more hit and the extended arms tensed to the point that Carl's body rose until he stood on his toes and still, even though he was in obvious agony, he did not safeword.

James stopped. If the boy was too stubborn to call it quits, then he would. He put the whip down and unbuckled Carl's ankles, rubbing the knots in his calves. Getting the wrists loosened proved more difficult because Carl was realizing that it was over before he wanted it to be and he struggled to shake James’ hands from the restraints.

“No! James, no! We aren't done yet!”

“You don't get to make that call, boy. Your body can't take anymore.”

“It's my body and I know how much I can take. Please, James!”

The last cuff let go and James caught Carl as he stumbled away from the cross. “Enough, Carl. You have to trust me to know what I'm doing.” He spoke in a level tone of voice, hoping to defuse the coming blowup.

Carl was too disappointed to listen to reason. “I was almost there.” He twisted from James’ grasp and slipped on the hardwood floor, landing on his knees. “Don't touch me!”

James crouched in front of him. “Carl, I know you thought you could withstand the whip, but you can't. Very few men can. It's not a reflection on your manhood, for God's sake! We will find another way to make it work, I promise.”

“The Leatherman... ”

“Is full of men who crave the pain, not the revelation.”

“Christ, James, listen to yourself! We're not talking about a religious experience here. It's a fucking endorphin rush!” Carl managed to stand upright as he yelled at James, but he was unsteady on his feet and James stayed nearby. “I came here to get a story. Babying me gets me nothing! You've been getting your jollies teasing me and making me abase myself, but you don't intend to really give me the full treatment, do you? You're just fucking with me, aren't you?”

“You will
not
speak to me that way again. In fact, you will not speak again tonight unless it's to answer a direct question.” He'd had it. Carl would learn to be respectful or suffer in silence. “Am I understood?”

“Yes sir.” Carl's tone was anything but respectful.

“Good. Let's clean you up and check your back for damage. I want to go to bed.” He was tired and disheartened. “We will discuss this in the morning when we are both calmer and thinking clearer.”

James had little to say as he took care of Carl. Silence was preferable to arguing and he had no doubt Carl would start again if he began lecturing. Carl, he figured, was just plain pissed. Some of it was the fucking endorphins, James did not plan to let that go unpunished, and some of it went much deeper.

They would talk tomorrow. Right now, Carl would reap the consequences of his actions— James threw a pillow and quilt down to the floor, his meaning unmistakable. Carl was spending the night there. If he wanted the full treatment, he could have it— in spades.

A sound woke James at dawn. The weak light filtered through the trees from a sun still low in the sky to show Carl rising from the floor. His movements were stiff and a groan cut off midway as he made slow progress across the room.

James lay in bed and listened for Carl's return. His heart sank when he heard the front door a few minutes later instead.

No natural high, no sex and no soft bed had guaranteed Carl's foul mood of the night before would still be with him come morning. He was angry and uncomfortable. Leaving in a fit of pique seemed the thing to do.

Carl twisted, trying to see the welts on his back in the bathroom mirror. As far as he could tell, a few places looked red and only two of those were puffy. Judging by the soreness when he woke up on James’ floor, he'd thought his back was shredded.

Hours later, after his temper cooled and the stiffness was a memory, he regretted it. All of it. James was the best at what he did and Carl's hissy fit was just that. A child's tantrum.

Mentally composing an apology, he dialed James’ cell.

“Pauly.”

Carl's throat closed.

“Carl?” James sounded cold.

“James, I'm sorry I acted the way I did. I didn't mean to accuse you of screwing around with my head.” Now that he could talk, he couldn't shut up. “I had no right to yell or swear at you and I am so, so sorry.”

“You shouldn't have left, Carl. I might have forgiven the outburst if we'd been able to sit down like two adults and talk about it, but you ran away.”

“I know. It was a childish thing to do. I would like to come back and have that talk, if that's all right?”

“No. I think not.”

“Then I'll see you next weekend?”

“No, Carl. I believe we are done.”

“What about the contract?”

“You broke the contract.” He heard a sigh and James’ voice softened. “I thought we had a connection that went beyond the contract, Carl. I was wrong.”

“I... see.” Carl closed his eyes against the headache that was forming.

“You have what you need for your articles and this little test of my theories is put to rest. I am happy to have met you, Carl. Goodbye.”

He hadn't expected that. Now what did he do? Sure, he had enough for the stupid articles, but there were still questions he needed to have answered. He told himself the tightness in his chest was nothing more than strained muscles from hanging on the cross.

The rest of the day dragged. He spent an hour doing a rudimentary workout in his living room, then went to a fitness store and bought an all-in-one weight machine he could fold up and hide behind the couch.

He grocery shopped while he was out because he hadn't planned on being home until Monday night. Fruits and veggies were tossed into the cart along with the healthy oil James used for everything. Carl even found a specialty store that sold James’ brand of coffee, making it necessary to stop at a department store to get a grinder/coffee machine.

Everything was dumped on the kitchen table except for the workout machine. That went on the floor in front of the couch, still in the box. An inventory of his porn turned up a video he did not have memorized and he plugged it in. By the time the movie ended, Carl was asleep on the couch with his hand wrapped around a soft dick.

Groggy was the only way to describe Carl for most of the week. He was eating right and putting together the fitness machine had been a workout of epic proportions. Still, sleep was not his friend. He tossed and turned or dreamed of lurid sex with James. At least his cock came back to life.

Tony got most of the story during a drunken evening of pizza and beer, or in Carl's case, a burrito wrap and tequila. His opinion was that Carl was a dumb ass. “You can't be happy with great sex? Nooo... you want to have a good beating too. Moron.”

The talk with his mother was more difficult.

“No, Mom. We just hooked up for a while.”

“Bullshit! He had his eyes on you all day Saturday.”

“Mom! Calm down. We had a fight, okay? It's over.” He knew that was not the end of it.

He was right. “Carlo, he loves you, I am sure of it.”

“Well... I screwed it up royally, Mom. He's probably sticking pins in my voodoo doll right now.” Damn!

His mother's sympathy was less than impressive. “You can't apologize?”

“I tried. He wasn't buying it.” He took a deep breath. “Look, Mom, I have to go. I'll stop by later, maybe Sunday. Okay? Love you.” He hung up before she could respond.

His writing had never been better. The series of articles for the Herald were practically writing themselves and the private journal was almost full.

Thoughts and feelings he hadn't been aware of poured out of him. He missed the Dad who taught him to ride a bike and hated the father who rejected him. The support of his mother and his extended family gave him a safe place to come home to after his jaunts around the country for the perfect stories. Tony, with his irreverent humor and total acceptance, was the friend of a lifetime. James. James was probably the love of a lifetime and he let Carl go without a fight.

Thinking about the non-fight had Carl wanting to kick the furniture by Friday night. All of his frustration and anger made him lash out at James and the man just stood there. Didn't yell back and didn't stop him from leaving. A man as disciplined as James had to have heard Carl get up and walk out of the bedroom.

He also had to have heard the sorrow in Carl's voice on the phone. Everyone screws up. It's human nature to make mistakes, but you don't give up on a lover at the first sign of trouble. If Carl had issues about ‘being a man’ with the whip, then James had issues too. He was a control freak.

Carl laughed for the first time in days when he got to that realization. Duh?

He was going to drive himself insane if he didn't get out of the apartment. It was Friday, but he could not go to James’ house. He also needed a way to end the articles and get the answers that plagued him. Dressed in clothes one size too small and wearing a dog collar he bought that morning, he went to The Leatherman.

Another sub gone. James’ anger simmered under the surface for most of Sunday morning while he dealt with that fact. After the pleasant day at Mrs. Guttuso's where he felt part of a couple, his anger, hurt and betrayal crushed him.

Fuck it! He went to Pauly's Place to resume life as usual. Sam was happy to see him on a weekend, but that changed when he snapped at him over something foolish. He went back home rather than lose his best friend because he wanted to kill something.

Carl called as he was pouring his third glass of whiskey. While not drunk, he was not completely sober either. He told Carl it was over and meant it. He didn't have the strength to deal with yet another lover's insecurities.

Of course, Monday morning, while not hung-over, he wished Carl had called before the first drink.

Sam eyed him curiously when James returned to the restaurant that afternoon. ‘'Are you okay now? ‘Cause if you're not? You can just hustle your bad attitude right back home.”

“I wasn't that bad, was I?” Sam looked at him. “All right, sorry. I'll behave for the rest of the week.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not yet. Carl... left. I'm not sure what to think about it and I don't want to hash it out just yet, if that's okay.”

“Sure. I will be here when you do.”

“Thanks Sam.”

He worked diligently on the books for the rest of the day and called in Sam's grocery list. Most of the restaurant's foods were on a standing schedule, but they ordered some menu items as needed because their popularity fluctuated with the seasons. Large parties tended to deplete the stock as well.

Tuesday was much the same— he went in to work in the morning and kept his mind busy all day. He did not plan to join the gang that night, however.