AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Too many clothes, though. That’s gotta change.” With a hand on Scrap’s shoulder, he pulls him away from me and whispers something in the younger man’s ear. Scrap nods and heads into the tack room, and Rev’s deft fingers work the buttons down my shirt. His touch creates whispers of sensation down my chest. Down my stomach. When he parts the flannel edges, the fabric brushes my nipples and makes them seek out the warm, humid air. I’m so fucking sensitive right now. I suck in a breath to steady myself.
Control, dude. This whole thing is about control. You ever want to graduate to Cora-level barn time, you better not blow your wad after a little kissing.
My shirt falls to the floor as Scrap reappears. In his hands is some kind of folded up leather strap. Oh! It’s reins from a bridle, like you’d use to steer a horse. Makes sense. We’re on a ranch, after all.
I frown. “There are limits to my submission,” I tell Rev. “If you think you’re gonna dress me up as a horse before having Scrap ride me—”
Rev barks out a laugh. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and he slaps the reins in his hands. After wiping away a tear, he says, “Now that’s an idea, son. But it’s not the idea I had for tonight.”
“You can forget that idea,” I say, scowling. “It’ll never happen.”
“Never say never,” Scrap says with a smirk. I’m about to tell him to fuck off, but I become transfixed by the sight of him peeling the tank top over his head. The play of lean muscles beneath tanned skin has my tongue swelling in my mouth.
Rev gets my attention by tugging on the waistband of my jeans. He jerks his head toward the hay. The pile looks soft and inviting between a wood-plank wall and a ten-foot-high Q-bert pyramid of bales. The ceiling elsewhere in the barn soars to forty feet, but back here, it’s a cozy eight feet because of the hayloft overhead.
With a commanding hand on my hip, Rev positions me with my back to a thick wooden pillar. Using the reins, he begins tying my hands behind my back around the pillar. My dick jerks as he does some kind of expert knot that makes the stiff leather snug while not cutting into my skin.
He angles his chin to look me dead in the eye. He’s seven inches shorter than me, but his eyes hold a dark hunger that makes it seem like he’s looking down at me. That look makes me feel naked even though my jeans are still on. He’s entered dom mode. I’ve seen him like this once before, a couple nights ago, and if I’m honest with myself, it’s all I’ve been thinking about since.
“You and I both know you can snap these reins with a single flick of your wrist. Hell, you can probably do it with nothing but a thought. But you won’t, will you, son?”
“No.” I won’t. I’ll stay tied up no matter what. I’ll do it for Cora. I have to prove that I can control my strength.
“When we play, you’ll address me with respect.” He does that stalking thing again, and I can’t take my eyes off him. He’s all lean angles and long muscles, and he moves with the grace of a predator who has tasted the blood of a thousand kills. Experience and danger roll off him in waves. “You’ll say ‘No, Dad,’ or ‘No, sir.’” He claps his hands together once and holds them like that. “So. Let’s try that again. You won’t break those reins, will you, son?”
“No, Reverend.” There. Let’s see what he thinks of that. As far as what my dick thinks, the moniker is a definite go.
Rev stops dead in his tracks. His quiet chuckle tells me I caught him off guard.
Warmth blooms in my midsection. I feel proud. My dick’s a hot bar of iron in my pants. I’m not sure about giving up my ass to either of these two men, but I’m not running from the barn, either. To say I’m interested in where this is going would be an understatement.
“Reverend, huh?” He strokes his goatee. “Like that.” Scrap’s been leaning on a stall door, interested but quiet. Rev palms the back of the kid’s neck and brings him in close so the three of us are breathing each other’s air. He reaches up to palm the back of my neck with his other hand. “I’m the Reverend, and I’ve got two altar boys here, ready to do the will of the Working.”
Jesus. That’s hot. I didn’t grow up religious. Maybe for someone who was Catholic, Rev’s words would be a turn-off. I know those folks have had to deal with more than their fair share of corruption in the priesthood. But none of that history matters to me. I like the fantasy. I like the roleplay.
So does Scrap. I can tell because he licks his lips and whispers,“Fuuuck.”
“Not yet, son,” Rev says. “We’ve got to work our way up to it. And while we do, we need to test Brawny boy’s control. You both know the rules. Red light stops the scene.”
Scrap and I nod.
“Good.” He leaves Scrap in front of me, and he begins those stalking circles again. “Let’s think of Brawn’s Gift as a muscle.” The Reverend has begun his sermon. “To learn control of a muscle group, you’ve got to use it. Test it. Determine its limits. Can I get an Amen?”
“Amen,” Scrap says.
“Amen,” I say. I’m hanging on his every word. How is he going to test my Gift? More importantly, how will he do it safely?
“Now, I don’t want to presume,” he goes on. “But I’m guessing if we tried to test the upper limit of your Gift, we’d cause damage to this fine barn we’re in. That would make us fairly rude guests, don’t you think?”
I nod as relief floods me. It doesn’t sound like we’re going to test how much I can lift with my mind. Good. I’d feel like shit if I hurt any of the animals or the structure they call home.
“So, tonight, we’re going to test thelowerlimit of your Gift. We’re going to flex that muscle of yours in the smallest possible way and see just how much control you can muster.” He comes around the post to face me. “And do you know what happens when you show exceptional control of your Gift?”
“What, Reverend?”
The corner of his mouth quirks up. “You get a reward.”
Scrap raises his hand. “Do I get a reward, Reverend?”
