Page 9 of Freddie

Grabbing the baby powder and my new friends, I carefully get myself into them then shine them up. Making my way over to the end of the bed where I have a large, obscurely shaped mirror that takes up half the wall. Fuck, I look good. I run my hands up and down my body, stopping to touch my nipples that have pebbled and are now super sensitive. I can feel myself pushing against the latex at my crotch, and it only makes me harder.

I wish for someone who loves this as much as I do. For them to be wearing something I had measured to fit them perfectly, for them to rub against me as we touch and kiss. Fuck, I’m going to cum. Just watching myself, knowing I could easily zip the black hot pants open and stroke myself with lube-covered gloves, but I don’t dare. I like the thrill of having to find an alternative.

I lie on my stomach, my hands under my hips to hold my erection. I hump at myself as I moan. I picture myself with a faceless man. Someone taking control, telling me I was going to cum no matter what because my cock was owned by them.

In my mind, they cage me and force me to wear these, with my cock fully restricted from touch. I want to be weighed down as they force themselves into my hot, ready mouth. I cum so hard I nearly fell off the bed.

Panting, I lie awkwardly, half off, half on. Sweaty and sated, I let my breathing go back to normal before I head for the bathroom. I wash and dry my new favourite things, then hang them on special hangers in my little latex wardrobe I had custom-made.

As sad as it was to some, these pieces were a part of me. I’m a strong man with a successful business, but when I put those on? I’m another version of Freddie. The one who wants to be unable to move, unable to say no and show full submission to the man I’m on my knees for. Although I have yet to make that a reality, I’m sure it’s in my future.

Like the universe knows what I’m thinking; I have an email waiting for me when I go back to the kitchen for my snacks. Cracking open the bottle of my Irn-Bru, I take a long sip and sigh with nostalgia. The email is from the Latex Exhibition I had just been thinking about.

Apparently, they are the ones to send the package with the weird USB. Trusting that it is legit, I plug it in and there’s a pop-up invite I click on. Inside are several files about the events, dates, and exhibitors. They’re asking me to be a paid participant this year. To be an interviewer for clubs and businesses attending. There is the option to add on a few of my own if I want to as well. I squeal with excitement. Holy fuck! Dreams can come true.

I settle down for the night with my notepad and laptop after I email a confirmation of my presence. Things are finally looking up, and I intend to grab the bull by its big arse and hold on tight.

Chapter 11

Freddie

It’s here! The weekend I have been anticipating for weeks. The latex exhibition where I would do my first series of interviews in the kink industry since moving here. I’m bursting with excitement by the time Craig and I reach the small Parisian cafe that’s conveniently halfway between my apartment and the pool where he works. We’ve become fast friends. It was like seeing each other naked at 7am three times a week was enough to bond or something to that effect.

I miss Benji so much, but he was off loving it up with his new boyfriend back home. I had to find my own people here, a community that would take my weird arse in and love me for me the way he used to.

“…mocha, Freddie?” I hear the end tale of what Craig is saying as I tune back in from my thoughts and realise we are next in line to get served.

“Oh, same, but can I get a pump of cinnamon in mine?” I wasn’t always a huge sugary coffee drinker, but swimming always took it out of me in the morning, and a spicy chocolate coffee was definitely the pick me up I was after this morning.

The guy behind the counter nods with a wink when he sees that we’ve paid separately, then passes the guy next to him the takeaway cups so he can get started on making our drinks. Popping a tip into his jar, I wink back with a smirk as we make our way to the bottom counter to wait.

“Are you flirting with a guy right in front of my face?” Craig accuses, his eyes narrowed to slits. I laugh, turning to face him, my bracelets jingling as I shove his shoulder.

“Fuck up, there’s no way you’re jealous of a little winking action. You’ve seen me naked for weeks now and haven’t so much as winked my way, which tells me you’re either straight, have gone blind or… and its the most obvious one here Craig so listen up. You’re not into me,” I say in a pedantic tone just to annoy him further as I list my reasons on each of my purple polished fingers.

“Maybe I’m shy,” he snorts, barely managing to finish his own joke as he covers his mouth with both hands.

“Yeah? And the band played ‘believe it if you like’,” I chant with my hands rocking his shoulders. A friendship with Craig was so easy. We are both foreign, choosing to settle here for something we both couldn’t really explain. We were both into kinks that others might have seen as extreme or too much which left us lonely when it came to knocks on our bedposts.

And, then there was feeling misunderstood because of the lifestyle we lived in, which was why, even though it had only been a matter of weeks, I felt like we were going to be friends a long time.

“You really are a brat, Freddie. Surprised you’ve not joined one of those clubs you write for. Bratty sub. Aren’t those in demand in a place like that?”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. I just don’t want to shit where I eat, to put it bluntly. Maybe once I’ve done my big interview of the weekend with the most exclusive club in the city, I could look at joining one a little cheaper. Nyctra was the place for kink, plus it was LGBTQ+ which ticked another box for me. However, it was expensive. I made good money, but I liked to spoil my family too much to afford it. I hoped that if the interview went well, I would be invited for a tour. Just so I could say I’d been there.

“Well, you’re quite bratty yourself. Maybe you could show me the best place to go?” The barista's steam wand screeched as it settled into the milk jug, and I had to repeat myself louder, giving a couple of old ladies a fright. With a little wave, I then blew them both a kiss, and they were all smiles as they passed us to leave.

“Ha. Ha. You know you’re on your own with all that sub stuff, - “

“Mocha at the bar. I also have a mocha with one pump cinnamon,” the barista calls. Craig leaves to go smoke outside as I walk to grab the drinks. I know, ew, who smokes these days? But I guess we all have our slight flaws. I just felt bad for the tongue that would one day meet Craig’s.

“Hey, uh, I wasn’t listening or anything, but um…” the guy who served me trails off quietly as I stand putting the drinks into a holder. I crane my neck around the pillar at the end of the counter and nod at him to follow. He looks so… timid suddenly.

“You okay? It was only a bit of eavesdropping; I think I’ll get over it,” I tell him when he approaches me. It wasn’t super private, but the rest of the cafe is out of earshot as I wait for him to tell me, well, whatever it was he was trying to say.

Looking at the floor, he twists a dishcloth in his hands. “I heard you guys discussing subs? Like submissives?”

Narrowing my eyes, I look him over. He doesn’t seem the type to judge because of his demeanour and the wink from the counter doesn’t have me thinking he was a religious nut about to tell me I was going to die for my sins. So, I conclude he is a sub too.