Charlie laughed.
Jegs snickered.
Breck fought back a glower and shoved out the door. “Yeah,” he grated tersely under his breath. “I’ll get right on that.”
— FIVE —
“May we touch?”
Kai looked over his finished product as club music pulsed up through the floor, then stepped back and inclined his head, smiling. “You may.”
A dozen or so spectators—guys from their early-twenties to mid-fifties—closed in on the model Kai just spent the last half hour binding. Specifically, in Shibari, a Japanese form of rope bondage. An exhibit he hosted regularly at Dom District to keep him practiced in the art. A pastime he enjoyed as much for the creative aspects as the sensual.
Not that he didn’t find it intensely erotic, because he did. He just really enjoyed the act. The fashioning of body and rope, meticulously, methodically merging them into one.
Standing guard in a room that looked like a large black-barred prison cell, he crossed his arms and made sure that no one got out of line. Zink, his dark-haired, ivory skinned twenty-six-year-old rope model had consented to pretty much everything prior to starting. But because models always ended up defenseless, those running the show were required to stick around for safety precautions.
Kai watched the patrons circling his elaborate display, an unmistakable hunger in their expressions as they took Zink in. He wasn’t just bound in a compromising position. He was mounted. To a frame of taut, white rope. Kai’s rendition of a living, breathing 3D painting. Although, in truth, it could also be likened to a giant spider’s web.
Two days before, the idea had just come to him, dropping into his mind like they often did. So, before he’d beckoned Zink to join him center stage, he erected a rope-strewn foundation to act as his canvas. Using two mounts on the ceiling, and two more on the floor, he constructed a 8x8 foot frame, then filled it in with geometric shapes. Leaving a slender opening in the center, he’d called Zink over. Zink had joined him, fully naked and already semi-erect.
Kai had fastened his torso in first, then linked Zink’s hands behind his head. Securing his elbows to the grid, he’d continued lower. He’d left Zink’s right leg standing to help support the young man’s weight. His other leg, Kai had lifted to the side, as high as Zink could handle, and roped it securely it to the grid. Then he bound Zink’s calf to his thigh, trapping his heel against his ass.
Decadently contorted. A beautiful sight.
The finishing touch had been a blindfold. Zink had requested it in advance. Evidently, when things turned ‘hands on,’ he liked to give his imagination free rein. No doubt to envision those molesting his body as a horde of gorgeous bulls.
So, blindfolded Zink was, as Kai stood looking on; another part of the exhibition he always liked. Not so much for the voyeurism—although at times it did get stimulating—but the way things always got started with attendees admiring his work. Studying each knot, contemplating every rope, appreciating each one’s role in detaining their snack.
He watched with satisfaction as fingers roamed along each cord, sliding beneath in places to test the tightness. Following his paths to erogenous zones, navigating his roadmap of infinite pleasure.
Zink twitched and sucked in breaths as eager hands touched him.
One of the indulgers looked Kai’s way. “May we taste?”
Zink chuckled breathlessly.
Kai’s lips quirked. “You may.”
Mouths instantly descended on Zink’s earlobes and neck. Up the underside of his biceps. Around his nipples. Along his groin and inner thighs. Clutching his ass cheeks and tonguing his crack. Lapping at his balls while others licked up his cock. Some even hungrily suckled on his wriggling toes.
Zink moaned, jaw slack as he writhed, his trussed-up body tensing in restless bliss. His taste-testers just growled and pressed closer.
Kai’s own body tightened as his pulse kicked up a notch. Not due to Zink, though, or what that throng of men were doing. But rather, because of who unexpectedly just slid into his brain.
The haughty, young, handsome king.
Next thing he knew, he was envisioning Breck snared in those ropes. All scowling and utterly helpless. At Kai’s mercy.
His blood heated as his dick gave a nudge.
How he’d relish trussing up that arrogant senior’s sensational ass.
He closed his eyes and shook away the thought.
It’d been two weeks now since Breck had walked into his dojang. Six sessions since he’d welcomed him into his class. During which time, Breck had learned the basics; stances, punches, and blocks. Last week, Kai had introduced several kicks. By Friday, they’d been sparring in true fashion, with hands and feet.
For a beginner, Breck did great. But that wasn’t saying much. The senior was naturally athletic, most likely excelling at anything he put his mind to. Problem was, with each passing class, the fact that Breck wasn’t taking Kai’s lessons seriously became more evident.