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Indeed, it was Thomas' very spiritual sense of himself, his responsibility to those he loved, the wisdom to perceive who needed him the most, that drove Marcus to insanity.
Even as it made him want to be with him with a hunger that made him worry he might blurt out the same foolish promise.
The only man I'll ever let inside me again. . .
When Thomas reached out to touch his face, Marcus stepped back, shook his head.
Thomas stopped midair, waited a pregnant second, then slowly lowered his arm.
Marcus lifted the Velcro cuffs and gestured to Thomas to turn. When he did, he wrapped the cuffs around Thomas' wrists, trying to keep his mind on what he was doing and not the back of Thomas' neck, so tender and exposed with his head bowed, his eyes cut down again.
Marcus wanted to bury his face there, his nose in the soft line of hair and skin, smell deodorant and aftershave, warmth.
Instead, he latched the cuffs together. Thomas' knuckles rested on the curves of his bare ass, so that Marcus couldn't resist caressing him there. Thomas' fingers twitched but didn't seek to entwine, his shoulders rising and falling, the elevated breathing pattern showing he was fighting a frisson of panic at experiencing the restraints in such an environment.
"Come on. " Marcus took his arm. He was crazy to be here, but he couldn't leave.
There was too much he wanted to do to his slave. Needed to do to him.
Chapter Nine
As Marcus led him down to a second level of the Club, Thomas couldn't get a sense of his Master's thoughts. Arousal, for certain. The flash of anger, almost vicious resentment, had unsettled him. In these surroundings, Thomas was already unsettled.
He needed to be sure of his Master, and he wasn't at all sure of Marcus' mind at the moment.
This area of the club was a circular lounge, where those taking a break could relax with a drink, talk. In the center of the room was. . . well, he wasn't sure what to call it. He was starting to know what Alice in Wonderland must have felt. Or any character who found himself in a world fantastically, temptingly different from his own.
It appeared to be a large oval-shaped fountain with water pouring over stepped layers of flat slate from a top round disk into the pool. On top of the disk was an excellent reproduction of Michelangelo's David.
There were men kneeling, manacled in a circle around the wall of the pool. The line of the wall was scalloped, so each convex or concave curve formed a separate space for the man placed there. The men's positions were also arranged to form an aesthetic design. Where one man was bent over the wall in the concave space, the ivory rough stucco side pressing against his pelvis as he stared down into the water, the man next to him sat on the convex top of the scallop, facing outward and sitting upright.
Their arms were chained, one man's arm under or over the man's next to him. The ankles were likewise done, legs spread, so the sitting man's jutting cock and balls were exposed from the front as the bent-over man's was from the back, hanging free between his legs.
The floor beneath the fountain and the men was a rotating disk, and they were moving slowly, being displayed from all angles. As Thomas studied the carousel, the rigid faces of the men on their knees or the jerking hips of the men facing forward, he understood.
The cocks of the men bent forward were threaded through holes in the fountain wall, their hips and thighs anchored with straps so they couldn't move back to free themselves. Something in that hole was stimulating them like a man's mouth. Whereas the sitting men were obviously sitting on automated phalluses to fuck their asses. All for the watching pleasure of the wine drinkers in the room.
"Chocolate sauce, sir?" A waiter stepped up to Marcus. Thomas managed to tear his gaze away to see Marcus hand over the required tip before dipping his fingers into the metal chalice offered. Thomas noted all the men on the carousel were marked in some way on chest or back, depending on which direction they were situated, with letters or symbols he didn't understand.
Marcus brought the sauce-covered fingers to Thomas' back. As he stayed still and felt the slow glide over his spine, the caress as Marcus made a symbol of his own, Thomas digested the fact that Marcus was going to put him here. Restrain him, let others watch him get fucked or jerked off by inanimate electronic devices.
This imprisonment of his body, displaying it for the pleasure of others, was unthinkable, and yet he was fascinated by it. He was unable to resist the pressure of Marcus' hand as he was guided to the fountain and Marcus removed the cock harness.
"On your knees, pet," Marcus ordered. "Put this new condom on and then guide your cock into the hole. "
Thomas sank down on a knee cushion apparently provided to help the sub hold his position. As he leaned forward, obeying, he felt as if everyone's eyes were on him, but particularly Marcus'. He guided himself into a warm, moist canal and jumped as it automatically closed on him, adjusting for his girth. Then it cinched in a little tighter to hold him.
"Holy Christ. " He swallowed. It felt too snug to remove himself without tearing off something he might need.
Marcus fitted the straps over the backs of his thighs and his waist, spreading out his arms to either side, under the braced arms of the two sitting men on either side of him so their forearms touched. There was another vulnerability to this position, for his cheek now pressed on the upper curve of the well wall, mist from the fountain bathing his face as Marcus bound his neck against it with a strap, holding him completely in place.
His knees were nudged further apart and the ankles of the men on either side were briefly released so Thomas' legs could be guided to the inside of their feet. When they were all rebound, he was firmly manacled, their heels pressing against the inside of his calves, almost as if they were holding him spread open. They did not speak, at least one of them gagged, but he could feel the warmth of their unfamiliar flesh, the flex of their muscles.
"This will keep you occupied for a time. I'm going to go set up a room I want to use. " Marcus fiddled with a dial and Thomas clenched his jaw as the simulation of a wet mouth began to work him, making his body tense with the artificial stimulation.
"Master. . . " Don't go, he wanted to say. Don't leave. But there was an element of punishment here he had to endure for the pleasure of his Master. One part of him wanted to tear free, be back home with Marcus where play was between them. Another part of him wanted to be here, showing the world he belonged to Marcus. Which made no sense at all. But what had ever made sense with Marcus?
Marcus was standing where he could partially see him, and he was aroused.
