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Handcuffs and Glory Holes [MultiFormat]
eBook by Kim Dare

eBook Category: Erotica/Gay-Lesbian Erotica/Romance
eBook Description: Police Sergeant Conrad Rawlings likes glory holes. As a dominant who's never learned how to feel casual about even the most fleeting hook up, he's learned to cherish the complete anonymity they provide. Still, when he hears a cubicle door open as he leaves the back room of a club, he can't quite help looking over his shoulder. Submissive Willis Evans doesn't know why his master ordered him to make sure the stranger from the glory hole sees his face before he leaves the club, but he knows the price for disobedience. Willis does as he's told. The moment their eyes meet, he can't help but hope he'll be allowed to see the other man again. They are going to meet again, but it won't be under conditions either of them could predict. Willis' master has a plan--one which could easily break them both.

eBook Publisher: Resplendence Publishing, LLC/Resplendence Publishing, LLC, Published: 2010, 2010
Fictionwise Release Date: August 2010


101 Reader Ratings:
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Chapter One

The door leading into the back room of the club creaked open. It was the cue Willis Evans had been listening for, for over twenty minutes. As the sound of footsteps crossing the tiles floated into his cubicle, Willis lowered himself to his knees. The floor in the pokey little space was much the same as he'd always found it--cold, hard and far from clean.

The partition wall shuddered as the door into the neighboring cubicle was pulled closed behind its new occupant. Willis took a deep breath and let it out very slowly when he heard the lock on the other man's door slide into place.

All his attention focused in on the hole between the adjoining spaces. A few seconds passed, and a foil wrapper was offered through it. Willis stared at it for a moment, as if he'd never seen a condom before. Finally, his brain kicked into gear. He took the packet from the man on the other side of the glory hole.

It was nice of the guy to offer him the choice, but a second's consideration had Willis slipping it into the back pocket of his jeans. No point wasting it on a blow job when there might be someone who'd be willing to use it for something more than that later.

Fabric rustled. Willis turned his gaze back to the hole linking his world with the other man's. The edges of the opening might have been rough when it was first cut, but at some point some practical-minded visitor to the club had covered the perimeter with masking tape. The DIY job had been pristine when Willis had first visited the cubicle, several months ago. The strips were peeling away now, battered by constant friction.

Past the circular frame created by the remaining partition, Willis watched strong hands reach for a button up fly.

The lighting was dim, full of shadows, but as Willis stared through the hole, he could have sworn a spotlight shone on the other man's crotch, as if it was highlighting a personal little peep show, being put on just for him.

The top button slipped through the denim, then another. The hands that unfastened the other guy's fly were big, masculine--a working man's hands.

More buttons were quickly undone, it wasn't long before Willis knew his first 'date' for the evening was going commando. Pushing back the denim, the other man exposed a long, thick shaft, already half hard with expectation.

The guy wrapped his fist around his cock, stroking himself three or four times before finally offering his cock up to the hole. He was tall, the hole was only just high enough to accommodate him.

Licking his lips, trying to work some moisture in a mouth left dry by unaccountable nerves, Willis leaned forward and took the tip of the offered cock into his mouth. There was no reason to be anxious. It was just a blow job--he should have been able to do that in his sleep by now.

Willis closed his eyes as simple instinct encouraged him to suckle gently around the head of the other man's cock while it rested snugly inside his mouth. He took a little bit more of the shaft between his lips, dipping his head toward the hole in the partition.

Just a blow job...

A tiny satisfied sigh drifted through the partition and, as easily as that, something inside Willis settled. The pleasure in the soft little sound soothed a part of him that had been neglected for far too long. It was just a blow job--just a chance to feel another man's pleasure and know he was the guy who made the other man feel that good. As Willis felt all his concerns about the wider world begin to fade gradually away, there was no just about it.

Swirling his tongue around the tip of the other man's cock, Willis formed his lips into a neat seal around his shaft. The only important thing right then was the man before him and it didn't matter if he was on the other side of a wall. And it didn't matter if he was a stranger rather than the kind of master that Willis would have sold his soul for the privilege of kneeling before either.

The shaft filling his mouth stiffened further and Willis felt himself fall helplessly into the moment. Before. After. For the first time in far too long, everything but the present stopped mattering to him.

As reality started to slip away, Willis helped it along, chasing it from his mind, desperate to live in a world where everything really was as simple as a hard cock and a willing mouth, if only for a few minutes.

Sucking more greedily around the stranger's shaft, Willis dipped his head further forward, trying to take more and more of the other man's erection, until his forehead nudged against the partition. A slight change of angle, allowed him to slide his mouth a little further down the shaft. The head of the other man's cock slipped into his throat as his lips kissed the base of his date's cock, where it nestled between neatly-trimmed dark curls.

Pulling back, Willis ran his tongue along the vein on the underside of the shaft. Before the tip of the other man's cock could slip from between his lips, he bowed his head again. Pre-cum begin to leak, hot and salty, onto his tongue, making him all the more desperate to satisfy the other man.

Something about the stranger called to him. It made him hope the other guy would be pleased with him, in a way Willis had thought he'd given up daydreaming about a long time ago.

Willis closed his eyes very tight. Reality wasn't important right then. The truth surrounding his life didn't matter. While he knelt there in the shadows, he was free to pretend the world was any way he chose to imagine it being. No one could even catch sight of his expression and guess what he was doing. And he couldn't be whipped for it, if no one knew.

"Perfect..."

Willis couldn't hold back a responding whimper as the word crept through the wall. Blinking his eyes open, he looked up at the battered partition, as if there was really some chance he'd see a dominant there, pleasure in his eyes and praise falling from his lips.

"That's right..." The other man coaxed, his voice rough with pleasure.

Willis moaned his reply around the guy's shaft, doubling his efforts to beg the other man's orgasm out of him. A movement high above his head caught his attention.

Fingers curled over the top of the wall. The other man rocked his hips, making the most of the leverage his strong grip on the partition could grant him. He fed his shaft into Willis' mouth again, moving faster with each thrust as he raced toward the edge of pleasure. A glance down and Willis saw the toes of a very well polished pair of boots poke under the barrier.

It wasn't enough. Closing his eyes, Willis pictured the wall disintegrating between them. He imagined one of those wonderfully powerful hands sliding into his hair, holding him in place. Even without the other man's fingers tangling in the messy blond strands, Willis stilled, willingly giving up all control to the other man, as he let him take his mouth however he pleased.

As the shaft thrust deep between his lips, Willis licked and suckled around it, praying for another word of praise. The stranger's rhythm faltered. Willis sucked harder, his cheeks hollowing out as his lips tingled with friction.

The man buried himself inside Willis' mouth as he came, spilling across his tongue almost faster than he could take. Willis swallowed rapidly, determined not to miss a drop, and for once it had nothing to do with fear of being punished.

He wanted so badly to make it perfect. Even if there was no way the guy would see if he failed or succeeded, even if there was no reason why the hell he'd even care how a casual blow job from a faceless, nameless stranger ended. Just for a few seconds, Willis wanted to believe he was good enough to make it perfect for another man.

The guy's hips stilled, but he didn't immediately pull away. Even if it hadn't been perfect, at least the orgasm had been good enough to take his breath away. Willis heard the other man drawing in deep lungfuls of air as he recovered. Willis stayed pressed up against the barrier between them, letting him soften gently in his mouth, suckling tenderly around his cock, drawing out the moment for as long as he could.

"Good boy."

Before Willis even had time to relish the words, the other man pulled away, his shaft quickly disappearing back through the glory hole. Willis sat back on his heels. He couldn't remember the last time kneeling in that gloomy little space had left him hard. Pressing the heel of his palm against his straining fly, he quickly wished away his erection before anyone could notice it and set about reminding him that wasn't supposed to be there for his own pleasure.

When he heard the other man unlock the door into the adjacent space, Willis remembered that his job wasn't quite finished. Scrambling quickly to his feet, he managed to open his own cubicle just in time. The guy already had the door leading into the club half open, but he looked over his shoulder as Willis stared across at him.

It wasn't a crowded room, but their eyes did meet across it. The other man was older than Willis and darker. He was taller and broader across the shoulders too.

The larger man smiled slightly. Willis found himself smiling back, somewhat shy now that he was face to face with the man he'd just gone down on. The guy didn't say anything before he left.

As the door closed behind him, Willis leaned his temple against the cubicle door. He barely had a moment to close his eyes and memorize the smile before the door into the club swung open again.

Phil, one of the doms who worked for Willis' master, stood in the doorway. Willis waited for a command, to see if he was going to be ordered back into the cubicle, or if his master had other plans for him now.

"Out," Phil ordered with a jerk of his head. He grabbed hold of Willis' arm as he led him through the main rooms of the club. Pain shot through his shoulder, as the dominant half dragged him into another, rather different, back room on the other side of the building.

His master, Marshall, sat on a high backed chair at the far end of the room. Phil pushed Willis forward until he stumbled and fell to the floor at his master's feet.

"Rawlings just left," Phil reported.

Willis pulled himself up onto his knees, settling his hands behind his back, presenting himself the way he'd been trained, as the other men spoke over his head.

"You made sure he got a good look at you?" Marshall asked, as he turned his attention to Willis.

Keeping his eyes on the carpet in front of his master's feet, Willis nodded.

"He'll recognize you if he sees you again?"

Willis nodded again. "Yes, sir." He tightened his hands into fists behind his back, praying his master wouldn't guess how his heart rate kicked up a notch at the idea of being allowed to see the other man again.

A door opened and closed somewhere on the other side of the room.

"You've got the paperwork?" Marshall demanded, sharp blue eyes deserting his submissive in favor of the newcomer.

Someone stepped forward to stand beside Willis. A grubby boot kicked into his shin. Papers were passed to his master. One of them slipped from the little pile and floated to the floor in front of him.

Willis picked it up, his eyes automatically scanning it. He stopped short. It was a birth certificate for a Willis Evans. The only thing wrong with it was the dates. The year scrawled on the certificate put him at fifteen rather than nineteen.

He lifted his gaze for a moment as his master snatched it impatiently from his hand. The dominant didn't even glance toward him as he shuffled through the rest of the papers. "Good enough to fool the tabloids?"

"For a few days at least," the man who'd delivered them promised.

Willis watched Marshall's lips curl into a smile--the one that usually meant he was about to put the boot in--hard. "That'll be long enough."

"His next day off is tomorrow," someone spoke up from behind Willis.

Suddenly, the submissive found himself once more the focus of his master's attention. "Get him to the room off Henry Street. You know where the camera's hidden. Put on a good show. Tell him you like it rough, then turn to the camera and cry your eyes out."

"But--" The back of his master's hand caught Willis hard across the side of his face. His head snapped to the side, pain flaring through his cheek. His hand rose to cover his head, far too late to be of any use.

Closing his eyes, Willis waited, frozen in that position. He knew better than to speak to his master that way--just like he knew better than to think a slap would be all he'd get for it.

Seconds passed. The next blow didn't fall.

"You're bloody lucky I need you pretty for the cameras," his master snarled, his fist tugging at Willis' hair as he dragged him back up onto his knees.

"Yes, sir," the submissive whispered, as quickly as he could.

His master pushed him away, sending him sprawling to the floor before the other dominants. Scrambling up onto his feet, Willis quickly backed away from them all, before his master changed his mind--or came up with a punishment that wouldn't leave too many visible marks.

Knowing what would happen if Marshall caught him hiding away in some quiet corner, Willis forced himself to stay near the center of the main room of the club, where he could be easily found if his master, or his master's friends, wanted to get off.

It was stupid to think the guy on the opposite side of the glory hole was any different to any of the other men who'd screwed him since his master had decided he preferred to share his submissive rather than keep Willis for his own personal use.

No doubt the guy he'd just sucked off was just as big a bastard as all the others who'd used his mouth over the last few months.

Willis closed his eyes for a moment, his palm once more rising to nurse his stinging cheek. When he opened his eyes again, he looked around the club and the men who lingered there. There was no room for silly little daydreams in a place like that.

The guy probably deserved whatever Marshall had planned for him anyway...

* * * *

"I ... um ... bugger."

Sergeant Conrad Rawlings stopped staring idly at the list of coffees on the board behind the counter and glanced to his left. A young blond man stood at the next till, frantically patting his pockets.

"I must have ... um..." the boy faltered, as if unable to bring himself to finish the sentence. Conrad didn't need to hear the rest. The guy had obviously left his wallet somewhere--along with his coat from the look of it. The day wasn't anywhere near warm enough for a man to wander around in a thin white t-shirt--not that it didn't provide a very nice view ... His jeans were like a second skin too.

Just as Conrad's subtle inspection of the other man came back up to his head, the guy glanced over his shoulder. The younger man seemed to do a double take when their eyes met.

Conrad couldn't help but mentally echo the other man's earlier statement. Bugger! The boy looked away soon enough, but knowing he'd already recognized him, made it impossible for Conrad to do anything other than come to his rescue.

Stepping out of the line he was in, Conrad joined his friend from the glory hole in front of the other till.

Passing a note across the counter, he added. "And a regular coffee, black, no sugar. Thanks."

The waitress took the money. A minute later, Conrad was on his way out of the shop, his own cup of coffee in hand. His foot had barely hit the pavement before he felt someone fall into step next to him.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." Conrad sped up a little. The boy was several inches shorter than him. He had littler legs. Somehow he still kept pace with him through the crowds.

"I forgot my wallet."

"Yeah, I noticed," Conrad said, not once letting his gaze stray to the man on his left.

"I'm not usually so dopey," the other guy offered.

Conrad said nothing. As they reached a junction, he allowed himself one quick glance at the younger man. He'd wrapped both his hands around his paper coffee mug, trying to get whatever warmth he could from it as the autumn wind rushed around them. Dragging his gaze away from him, Conrad looked back to the traffic lights.

"Would you like to screw me?"

All thoughts about how freezing the boy had to be, shattered inside Conrad's mind. Traffic signals forgotten about, he blinked down at the younger man. "What?"

"I do owe you for the coffee," he reminded him, an inviting little smile playing around his lips.

"Call me old fashioned," Conrad said, allowing no hint of a smile to sneak out in return. "But I don't pay for sex--not even with hot beverages."

Suddenly the smaller man didn't look half so cold as he had a moment before. Heat rushed to his cheeks. His gaze dropped to the pavement and stayed there.

Conrad was pretty sure this was exactly why he was better off sticking to glory holes and the kind of clubs that were dark enough to make the men he screwed unrecognizable. He wasn't cut out to look someone in the eye when they had sex, then ignore them the next time he met them. And he wasn't cut out to give a boy in need the brush off either.

"Conrad."

The pretty little blond looked up at him, all confusion and big grey eyes.

"Conrad Rawlings," Conrad clarified, holding out his hand to him.

The younger man freed one of his palms from the half-drunk coffee cup and shook his hand. "Willis Evans."

The lights finally changed. The crowd moved forward. The little guy stuck to Conrad's side, for all the world like a puppy showing off a newly discovered ability to walk at heel. He even looked up at his master every so often, to see if he was pleased with him and might be inclined to offer him a treat.

He couldn't have screamed his submission more loudly if the jeans and t-shirt had been replaced by a leather harness. Conrad took a deep swig of coffee and pushed that image out of his head as quickly as it had snuck past his defenses.

"I'd have offered to do whatever you wanted for free, I just thought, since you did buy me the coffee and everything. Maybe it would be fun to kill two birds with one stone?"

And Willis obviously didn't have the cash to pay him back any other way. Conrad would bet good money on the fact the wallet he'd 'misplaced' didn't even exist. No doubt someone else in the queue would have anteed up the coffee money for him if Conrad hadn't been there. It was probably far from the first time the submissive had wrangled a warming drink that way.

When he actually heard the other man's stomach growl during a lull in the traffic at the next junction, Conrad knew there was no way in hell he'd be able to walk away and leave Willis no better off than he'd found him. He tossed his empty coffee carton in a bin and considered his options.

"I know somewhere we could go," Willis suggested.

Conrad met his eyes for a moment.

"It's not far from here," the submissive added, with a hopeful little smile.

For a few seconds, all Conrad could do was stare down at him. When the lights changed and he stepped forward, the younger man reached out and tugged gently at the sleeve of his coat, nodding toward a side street.

Conrad shook his head and kept walking.

"The place I know is--"

"I know a better place," Conrad cut in.

The boy hesitated then, as if he was suddenly uncertain he wanted to go anywhere at all with him. Conrad stopped and waited for him, but he kept his mouth shut. He might not have completely cured himself of 'taking up strays', as his family liked to call it, but he liked to think he'd reached the point where he knew there was nothing he could do to help someone who wasn't ready to accept his assistance.

The sub looked back to the side street he seemed so fond of. "Maybe we could go back there afterwards?" he asked, tentatively.

Conrad nodded. "If that's what you want." There was no reason way they couldn't go back to the boys place later. A quiet place to talk would probably be useful.

The submissive returned to Conrad's side. He made no further complaint as Conrad led him toward a nice little café on the next street. The younger man hesitated on the threshold, but he quickly caught up again as Conrad led the way to a table near the back of the room, right next to a huge old fashioned radiator.

A nudge sent the boy to sit in the corner next to the heater. Even while he looked confused as hell, there was something irresistible about him. And the memory of a very wonderful mouth wrapped around his cock wasn't the half of it. Willis called up far too many possessive and protective instincts inside Conrad for the dominant's peace of mind.

The older man held back a sigh. He knew there was a good reason why he stuck to lovers he never set eyes on...

The boy looked around the quiet little café as if he'd never seen one before. Taking a laminated menu from the far side of the table, Conrad pushed it in front of him.

"I'm fine. I can just wait while you..." Willis looked across at the waitresses, as if she might attack at any moment. "Or I could wait outside, if--"

"Read the menu. Pick something to eat."

"Um ... my wallet, I..." The younger man didn't even try to meet his gaze as he said it.

"Breakfast's on me."

Big grey eyes looked up at him then, their expression unreadable.

"No repayment necessary," Conrad added.

The other man looked down at the menu in silence for a few moments. "I ... I enjoyed last time we met," he blurted out, suddenly.

"So did I."

No man should look like he'd been given the world on a stick, just because he heard a guy admit he liked being blown. Conrad smiled slightly as a pleased little blush stole to the other man's cheeks. No doubt he'd make one hell of a good submissive for the right master at some point in the future. Not now, the boy obviously had other things he needed to deal with before he should be thinking about that, but still--

"You ready to order?" a waitress asked as she stopped next to them.

A glance across the table, and Conrad knew the younger man wasn't ready to make any sort of decision for himself right then.

"A breakfast special with everything and two mugs of coffee, thanks," Conrad said, before the sub had a chance to get flustered.

Willis made no comment on the order, even after the waitress left.

"Are you using?" Conrad asked, doing his best to make the question sound no more threatening than a bland discussion about the weather.

Willis looked him in the eye as he shook his head.

"Working for street money?" Conrad asked, in that same easy tone.

The younger man's gaze dropped. For a moment, Conrad expected him to bolt, but he held his ground. "I wasn't asking you for money." Lifting his eyes, he held Conrad's gaze, as if begging him to recognize it as the truth.

"I believe you."

The waitress came back before any other questions could be asked. The breakfast special they served there really was special. The platter almost took up half the table. Conrad nodded to the space in front of the submissive when she asked who it was for.

Willis looked up at him, once more all confusion.

"Eat."

"I don't--" He blushed when his rumbling stomach cut in with truly perfect timing. Willis picked up his knife and fork. The first few mouthfuls were hesitant, as if he expected the plate to be snatched from in front of him at any moment and he wanted to be ready to apologize as soon as it was.

Gradually, simple survival instinct took over. Willis didn't turn his attention back to Conrad until the last scrap was cleared. Then he looked back down at his empty plate in horror.

"When was the last time you ate?" Conrad asked.

The blush came back, but even after it had faded, there was a little color in his skin now. He still looked like he could do with a few more good meals to put a little bit of depth on his bones, but the hunger was gone from his eyes.

Hunger for food anyway, the submissive kind of hunger was still there, shining as brightly and as temptingly as ever.

Standing up, Conrad retrieved his jacket off the back of his chair. When he nodded for the younger man to walk out in front of him, he casually dropped his coat over the submissive's shoulders, as if it was no big deal.

Willis looked at him as if he'd grown another head. "You'll get cold!"

He'd get cold in a thick jumper, walking next to a boy in a thin t-shirt ... Conrad just shook his head and left his jacket wrapped around the other man's smaller frame as they walked out into the street.

Conrad looked both ways along the road. The sensible thing to do would be to find out exactly what had gone so wrong in the younger man's life, and deliver him to someone who could help him. A decade on the police force had provided him with a huge list of organizations who could be relied upon to help a man back onto his feet.

It would be the sensible thing to do. Except, when he looked down at Willis, Conrad didn't feel that sensible.

He wanted to take him home and wrap him up in an insane amount of cotton wool. And possibly, if the guy was still interested when he was back up on his feet and ready to make a clear decision, bind him up in roughly the same amount of leather. Conrad forced himself to at least try to be rational.

"There's a place--"

"You promised you'd go back with me," Willis suddenly reminded him.

Conrad hesitated. Yes, he had agreed to go back to the boy's place with him. And even if he was no longer sure it was wise for him to be all alone with a man who called to him in a way no other submissive ever had, he knew a man didn't help someone by lying to him. He nodded his agreement.

The relief in Willis' eyes made him sure he'd made the right choice. As he let the other man lead the way, Conrad turned his attention back to his plans for him. He wouldn't have made it into the club where they'd first met if he'd been under eighteen, which ruled out a few different organizations. There was always St. Tristan's, though. They'd give him a room if he was under twenty-one. He took a sideways glance at the younger man.

He could easily pass for the right age, but it was hard to tell for sure. "How old are you?"

All the color drained out of the submissive's face as the question hit the air.

Conrad frowned. "Willis?"

"Nineteen," he said, his voice suddenly horse. "I'm nineteen."

Just then, they reached the side street the submissive had pointed out to him on the way to the café. "Down here?" Conrad asked.

Willis just stared along the road, as if he'd never seen it before. Conrad's jacket slipped part way off his shoulder as someone bumped into him on his way past. Willis pulled the coat back around himself. He looked down at it for a second. Then he shook his head.

"Willis?"

"No." The younger man shook his head again as he took a step back from him. When Conrad reached out to steady him, he jerked away as if he'd raised a hand to strike him.

"Please." The younger man took off his jacket and pushed it at against Conrad's chest. "You have to ... I ... I've changed my mind, sir. I'm sorry, just--"

Conrad caught hold of Willis' arm, as he stumbled over a curb stone.

"I can get the money to pay you back for--"

"That's not important. Just tell me what--" Conrad didn't even have time to finish the order before the boy slipped from his grip. One minute Willis was there, the next he was gone, rushing through the crowd, down the side street and out of sight.

Conrad looked down at his jacket. Can't be helped until he's ready to be helped. Just because he knew it was a fact, he didn't have to like it.

* * * *

As Willis stepped into the small dank room, his eyes went straight to the camera hidden in the corner. His heart was racing so fast, he couldn't catch his breath. He closed his eyes for a moment as he leaned over and rubbed at the stitch in his side, but he didn't have to wait long before the door swung opened and slammed closed behind him. A shadow blocked out whatever weak rays of light managed to sneak into the room through the dirty window.

"I'm sorry, sir. I couldn't--"

His master's hand closed around his arm as Marshall spun him around.

Willis kept his gaze down, as if that might somehow help, even when he could feel his master's fury pouring off him.

"Where's Rawlings?"

"I ... He wasn't interested. I tried to bring him here, but he wouldn't--" The first blow took the submissive's breath away. As he doubled up, the next lie died on his lips. Dropping heavily to his knees, Willis curled in on himself. He closed his eyes very tight and remembered the look in Conrad's eyes as he'd stared at him across the table in the café.

For the first time Willis could remember, he didn't feel guilty for displeasing his master. He'd taken a lot of beatings from the older man over the months. He couldn't help but think that this one, at least, was worth it.


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