Chapter Eleven
The chaps were awkward and uncomfortable, the muscle shirt was too tight around the collar, and the leather cuffs…he wasn’t sure what they were for, but he guessed they all knew better than him about things.
“Ignore him. That is what is most important. Men like him hate being ignored,” Brett listed off to him.
“Brett, let things flow for once. You can’t manipulate everything.”
Brett rolled his eyes where Ryan couldn’t see and whispered to Eli, “He knows I’m good at this. I’m like Streisand in that movie.”
“You’re a yenta? I thought you were Italian.”
“Part Italian, and…well, not sure what else, but hey, I could be Jewish.”
Ryan was chuckling loosening the laces on the boots Eli was going to wear.
“Well, I am Jewish, half, anyway, and matchmakers are revered. This time, however, I think it’s totally off the mark.”
Brett winked at him. “It’ll work.”
The more they encouraged him, the more he doubted himself. And it wasn’t like he wanted the jerk that was Lee Madison anyway. He didn’t like him at all, only found him mildly attractive, and hated his politics.
He was escorted to the main room of the basement by three slaves and the managers of the place, the High Master and High slave. No one was there, and the place was eerily quiet except for the echoes of their footfalls on the stone floor.
“Now what?”
Ryan snapped his fingers to the three slaves, and they all dropped to their knees, hanging on Eli’s legs. “Worship him, slaves.”
Mouths on him, eyes gazing up like their entire world was him. He stepped back, but they moved with him, and Eli was uncomfortable as hell. One thing he’d never dreamed of was being worshipped like that, or at all.
In his dreams, he was in an equal relationship, a partner to move through life and have the joys and sorrows that came with it. Having a man fawning over him, that wasn’t in his wheelhouse.
Then a mouth moved over his crotch, a hand cupped the cheek of his ass, another moved under his shirt to rub his stomach and chest. Their noises, that did a number on him too, being as auditory as he was when it came to sex.
“Damn, okay, this is…this is good. Yeah.”
He heard Ryan’s chuckling as if he were far away instead of less than five feet from him. He opened his eyes and saw the way it looked, having the gorgeous men crawling on the cold floor, their faces flushed with need, lips parted, bodies slick with sweat.
He felt the power of it, and suddenly, he understood so much. Tipping his head, his saw Ryan and Brett, Brett leaning against his much bigger husband, both of them smiling his way. They knew. They could tell that in that short time, Eli had gotten a clue.
“It’s heaven, right?” Ryan asked.
“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
“Powerful, right?”
He hadn’t thought about it, but knowing the men were anxious and ready to do whatever he wanted, he did start to feel that power. And it felt good.
“Now,” Ryan said, snapping his fingers again. “Go, slaves. It’s time for Eli to feel the other side of things.”
Speechless, Eli felt the warm bodies leaving him, and from one of the far corridors, two men walked in, dressed like him, in leather and looking amazing, muscles slick, eyes set right on him.
“Jesus.”
Ryan stood in front of him and explained, “Maybe not long, but you felt what Lee needs to feel. Their kind is all about power, but really, they have very little. The donors and the lobbyists, the organizations, they have the power and Lee is a puppet on their strings. What he needs to feel is real power, like the little you just experienced.”
Eli heard it, and it was insane, but he believed it. “You want Lee to…feel that.”
“Yes. He’s come here, taking his subconscious but normal role of submissive. You can change that. You bring him fury and passion, and the flush on his face is only there because the blood couldn’t decide between his face and dick.”