Call Me

Sir, Boy!

Kim Dare

eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared
or given away as it is an infringement of the copyright of
this work.

CALL ME SIR, BOY!

13 Perfect Strangers Collection

Cover art by Amanda Kelsey

Edited by Trinity Scott

All Romance eBooks, LLC

Palm Harbor, Florida 34684

www.allromanceebooks.com

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to

persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events,
or locales is coincidental.

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used

or reproduced in any manner whatsoever with out written
permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied
in critical articles and reviews.

First All Romance eBooks publication: February 2011

Chapter One

“Bloody hell!”
Jack Bowen looked up as he heard the exclamation. If

there was something raising eyebrows in this club, it had to
be worth seeing. Craning his neck, he lifted himself slightly
out of the low leather armchair as he tried to peer through
the leather-clad press of people.

Finally, a guy wearing a set of well-worn chaps

stepped to the right. Another man wearing a top to toe
leather body suit moved to the left and a boy came into
view.

Short brown spiky hair. Big green eyes. Nice lean lines

of muscle. Can‟t be more than twenty-three, maybe twenty-
four.

Some strangely detached and analytical part of Jack‟s

brain noted down all those facts and filed them under just
my type, but most of Jack was far too preoccupied with the
fact the boy was stark bollock naked to care about any of
those things.

As the young man continued to make his way slowly

through the crowd, Jack registered other details, such as the
way the boy was blushing very prettily for his audience.
Jack smiled slightly to himself. Probably a Valentine‟s bet,
he decided, or perhaps one of the dominants who enjoyed
humiliation was making a prospective submissive jump
through a few hoops for his entertainment.

Call Me Sir, Boy!

The younger man had black leather cuffs separately

padlocked around each of his wrists and ankles just begging
for someone to fasten them together and render him
completely and gloriously helpless. There was no collar
though…and any man who let a submissive who looked like
that wander through a club full of doms without one was
bloody well asking for the boy to be snatched away from
right beneath his nose.

The boy came closer still. Jack let his eyes drift down

the younger man‟s body. The sub‟s shaft was slightly hard,
but his cock was nowhere near enthusiastic enough about
his predicament to mark him out as an exhibitionist. If the
fresh cut on his crotch, right where his skin creased between
his leg and his groin, was anything to go by, he wasn‟t very
experienced at shaving anything other than his face either.

There wasn‟t a hair to be seen anywhere on the boy‟s

body. If it really was his first attempt to follow a command
to clear it all away, he‟d done a bloody good job. Jack
glanced at the cut again—figuratively as well as literally.
His smile widened slightly, turning a little more crooked in
the process.

Whoever the boy was subbing to was one lucky sod,

and obviously destined to have a far more enjoyable
Valentine‟s weekend than Jack was.

Silent, bare footsteps brought the boy closer still. Jack

straightened slightly in his seat as the submissive glanced in
his direction and turned his steps toward him. It really
didn‟t seem to be just wishful thinking that hinted he might
actually be the boy‟s destination…

As Jack watched, completely entranced, the boy

stopped directly in front of him and lowered himself silently
to his knees.

Jack was just able to focus in on a flash of metal near

the boy‟s lips before the submissive placed his hands behind
his back, bent at the waist, and leaned forward until his

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forehead touched the floor right between Jack‟s leather
boots.

Habit made Jack reach up to push his hair back out of

his eyes as he stared down at him, but of course, there were
no shaggy blond strands hanging forward into his eyes that
night. It was all trapped under that bloody stupid baseball
cap.

Jack dropped his hand back to the arm of his chair,

barely able to waste more than a second wishing he‟d never
taken that stupid bet in the first place.

“I think he likes you.” The words came from directly to

Jack‟s left.

“Marcus?” Jack said.
“Yeah?”
“Go away.” Jack didn‟t raise his voice. He barely even

changed his tone, but he was pretty sure Marcus knew him
well enough to know when he wasn‟t messing around. He
didn‟t have any patience to deal with distractions right then.

A few seconds of silence passed during which the other

dominant no doubt drained the last of his drink, and Jack
finally heard Marcus leave the chair next to him.

His friend clapped him on the shoulder on the way

past. “Fair enough, mate. Have fun!”

They weren‟t exactly left alone. The room was still

full. The boy was still gaining a hell of a lot of attention
from anyone with eyes and a clear line of sight. But the men
around them faded away as Jack focused in on the
submissive and gave all his attention to the scene the boy
was apparently offering to conduct with him.

“Straighten up. Keep your hands behind your back.”
The submissive obeyed. He sat back on his heels and

squared his shoulders, but his head stayed bowed, his gaze
remained lowered. It still wasn‟t clear what the glint of
mental hanging from his lips was.

Call Me Sir, Boy!

“Look up. Look at me,” Jack ordered.
For a few seconds, the boy seemed confused by the

order. It took far too long for him to obey it. By the time
their gazes finally met, Jack was frowning. Pretty green
eyes quickly mellowed his mood, so did the sight of the
keys hanging from the ring held between the boy‟s lips.

Jack's lips twisted once more into a somewhat lopsided

smile. Perhaps a boy was allowed to be a little nervous
about making that kind of offering to a complete stranger.

Jack held out his hand, just below the submissive‟s

chin. “Drop.”

The boy parted his lips just far enough to release the

keys.

They fell neatly into Jack‟s palm and he quickly

wrapped his fingers around them. He had no doubt they
would fit the locks on the submissive‟s wrists and ankles
perfectly.

“Good boy,” he murmured.
The submissive smiled in response, before quickly

schooling his features into what he seemed to believe was
an appropriately blank expression for a submissive.

Leaning comfortably back in his chair, Jack twisted the

key ring around between his fingers as he studied his new
friend and considered his options. “Name?”

That same confused hesitation delayed proceedings for

several seconds. “Whatever you want it to be, sir?” the boy
hazarded.

Jack chuckled. “A line more suited to a prostitute than

a submissive. Do you intend to present me with a bill at the
end of the night?”

The submissive shook his head rapidly, his eyes

opening very wide at the idea. It shouldn‟t have been
possible for a man kneeling naked in a kink club to look that
innocent.

Kim Dare

“Then stop playing games and answer the question.”
“Ricky, um… Patrick Douglas, sir.”
Jack nodded his acceptance of the name, and his

preference for having it shortened too.

The boy seemed to relax a little.
“Is this your first time in this club, Ricky?”
The submissive nodded.
“In any club like this?”
He nodded again. “Yes, sir.”
He really did have the most beautiful eyes. Jack looked

down and ran his gaze slowly over the other man‟s body
once more. The rest of him wasn‟t bad either.

“Your safe word is Red. Do you know what that

means?”

“Yes, sir.”
Jack wondered if he did. Any boy who was more

confident about his knowledge of kinky conventions than he
was about his own name could well be capable of believing
damn near anything. There was only one way to find out for
sure.

“Stand up.”
Ricky pulled himself to his feet, his movements

slightly clumsy while his hands remained behind his back.

“Turn around, let me see you properly,” Jack ordered.
Ricky did as he was told. And he didn‟t just obey the

letter of the order, he threw himself into the spirit of it too.
Keeping his movements slow, he let Jack get a good look at
every inch of bare skin he possessed.

He was lightly tanned, but there wasn‟t a single tan line

on him, not even around his neck.

“Have you ever worn a man‟s collar?” Jack asked.
“No, sir.”

Call Me Sir, Boy!

You’ll be wearing one soon.
Jack shifted slightly in his chair. Bloody stupid thing to

think. There was no way in hell he was going to collar
anyone on the basis of a pretty smile. Still, the idea of
putting a tan line around his neck appealed far more than it
should. There‟d be no taking it off to sunbathe completely
naked once Jack had him under his protection.

“You can stop turning around now.”
Ricky sighed his relief as he obeyed the order. If the

look in his eyes was anything to go by, the poor little bugger
had grown more than a little dizzy while Jack had been
daydreaming.

Smiling slightly, Jack stood up. He was a good few

inches taller than the younger man, and very little of that
was down to the soles of his leather boots. Even if they
were both naked, he‟d have been larger and broader than
Ricky. He‟d have still been a good decade older than him in
real years, and probably closer to a lifetime older than him
in terms of leather-clad experience.

“Hold your hands out in front of you, wrists together.”
Ricky followed the order without comment.
It only took Jack a few seconds to undo the locks on

each restraint and thread both locks through the D-rings on
each cuff, neatly fastening them together.

Slipping the keys into the ticket pocket of his leather

jeans, Jack caught hold of the boy‟s chin and made him look
up and meet his gaze once more.

“If you say your safe word, I‟ll release you. Until then,

I‟m going to do whatever I want with you. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”
Jack smiled again. “Good boy.” Looping his fingers

over the D-rings and locks, he turned his back on the boy
and led him through the crowd.

It was impossible to hear the submissive‟s bare

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footsteps behind him. Jack‟s only guide to Ricky‟s progress
was the tension on the cuffs, but even that was enough to
leave him in no doubt that the younger man was doing his
very best to keep up. If it had been a proper lead attached to
a real collar, it would have remained slack, a clear
indication that the boy wanted nothing more than to walk
neatly at his heel.

Out of the bar and into the playrooms that occupied the

other half of the club, Jack kept striding forward. Part of
him couldn‟t care less if they were drawing a hell of a lot of
glances, although the more sarcastic bit of him had to
wonder if a few of them were caused by that bloody stupid
baseball cap he was trapped under for the night, rather than
the naked submissive.

Of all the nights for Marcus‟ submissive, Bret, to have

chosen to play silly buggers with him!

Call me SIR, boy!
Whoever had thought it was a sensible thing to put on a

hat obviously had never met any man who really deserved
to have the honorific applied to him. And whichever idiot
went on to stick little Valentine‟s hearts all over the bloody
thing only deserved to be throttled.

A few familiar faces gave Jack puzzled looks as they

saw the bright red inscription blazed across the black cap,
but no one stopped him when he was obviously in the
middle of something.

Pausing near the far side of the public playroom, Jack

glanced through an archway to his right, toward the private
playrooms. As tempting as they were, he forced himself to
resist.

There was only one reason a man as naturally shy as

Ricky appeared to be would offer to play in such a public
location. Jack wasn‟t going to deny him the safety net
provided by an audience—not when they‟d barely even said
hello to each other.

Call Me Sir, Boy!

Jack glanced to his left. A glint of metal caught his eye.

He traced it back to a set of cuffs attached to a St. Andrew‟s
cross. The diagonal supports were well padded with leather.
Below the metal links, the cuffs were all well cushioned too.

No doubt there were a hell of a lot of kinky and

amazing things an experienced sub could experience on that
particular piece of equipment, but as Jack stood there with
Ricky at his side, the only flag that went up in his head told
him it would be perfect for a novice.

Jack strode forward. After an initial hesitation when he

seemed to be caught off guard, Ricky followed obediently
in his wake. It only took Jack a few seconds to separate the
cuffs at the boy‟s wrists, return them to their original
configuration and have him turned toward the cross.

Ricky didn‟t fight him as Jack fastened his right wrist

in place to the top of one of the supports, adding the padded
restraints just above the more basic set he already wore.
With his head tilted back, the boy watched it all as if
thoroughly fascinated by the sight.

Jack smiled, wondering if he had any idea how much

protection the thick padding on the cuffs would offer him if
he did go into an unexpected panic in the middle of the
scene, how safely the cuffs, and the man fastening them in
place, intended to hold onto him.

*****

Bloody hell!
Ricky Douglas tried to make another thought take

shape inside his head, but that one shocked exclamation
seemed to be all his brain could manage right then. His
mind wasn‟t capable of complex reasoning, although it
seemed to be working perfectly when it came to reporting
back the scent of the leather he was being bound to, the heat
from his master‟s body as the older man stood close to him,
and every single draught of air that caressed his naked skin.

He took a deep breath as Mr. Carter picked up his left

Kim Dare

wrist and began to trap it in place against the cross too.
Glancing back over his shoulder, he snuck another quick
peek at the dominant.

Bret might have a hell of a lot more experience than he

had, but his friend had been wrong about one thing at least.
The reason why Mr. Carter hadn‟t been willing to share a
photo of himself online had nothing to do with him being
ashamed of how he looked.

There was no way in hell he could have failed to notice

he looked like a walking, talking version of the fantasy
damn near every sub had to carry around in his head.

There were a couple of lines and creases around Mr.

Carter‟s eyes that deepened when he smiled, but they
seemed to scream out to Ricky that he was a man that
smiled a lot—maybe even a man who would be willing to
smile at his submissive if he worked really hard and
managed to please him. In some stupid way, they made
Ricky feel calmer and safer than a younger, line-free face
ever could have.

Suddenly, Mr. Carter disappeared from his line of

sight. A moment later, Ricky felt extra leather wrapping
around his ankles as his master bound him firmly to the
cross. Letting his head dip forward as the last cuff was put
in place, Ricky did his best to brace himself for the first
blow.

He had no doubt it would hurt. Mr. Carter had been

very clear about that in his emails. He‟d be whipped
frequently to remind him of his place. It was his place to
suffer for his master‟s pleasure and amusement.

“Do you remember what your safe word is, Ricky?”
“Yes, sir.” And Ricky knew it was a test too. His

master wanted to make sure he remembered that he had no
right to say that word no matter how much it hurt. Safe
words were for silly little boys who thought they could play
games and top from the bottom. He remembered that email

Call Me Sir, Boy!

even more clearly than all the others.

Ricky glanced to his side as Mr. Carter rose once more

to his full height. One look at him should be enough to
inform any submissive that there was no way in hell anyone
would get away with playing any games with him.

A hand came to rest on Ricky‟s bare arse. He jerked

against the cross, pressing himself against the leather
padding as if he wanted to get away from the gentle caress.

“Have you ever been spanked before?”
Ricky was so busy cursing himself he barely heard his

master ask the question. Mr. Carter had been right. A
submissive didn‟t deserve tender touches if he was too
stupid to appreciate them properly, if he was going to let
them distract him from serving his master to the best of his
ability.

A few seconds passed. Ricky‟s frantic scrambles

finally put together enough of the original question to make
sense of the query. He shook his head. “No, sir.” He‟d never
been spanked. Mr. Carter knew that already. Ricky had
admitted that, and so many more embarrassing omissions,
in his experience to him over the weeks. Still, he couldn‟t
bring himself to be surprised that he wanted to hear him say
it out loud too.

Against all his expectations, the older man‟s hand

moved over his exposed buttocks once more, still as gentle
as ever.

Ricky pulled slightly at his restraints as he found

himself unable to stay still and simply accept whatever kind
of touch his master wanted to offer him. He had to lean into
the dominant‟s hand, he needed to arch his back and offer
his arse more completely to Mr. Carter. He wasn‟t capable
of anything else.

When the other man‟s hand disappeared, Ricky had to

bite back his objections—but they all morphed into one
surprised little gasp as Mr. Carter‟s hand came back. A

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sharp little sound filled the air as the dominant‟s cupped
palm connected firmly with his right buttock.

Ricky turned his head toward his master. Their eyes

met. Ricky blinked at him. The older man smiled slightly as
Ricky felt the dominant's hand squeeze the skin he‟d just
struck.

Dropping his gaze the way he was sure the other man

would want, Ricky focused on Mr. Carter‟s shoulder. But
the dominant squeezed his arse again, until he made the
mistake of looking up again. Submissives weren‟t supposed
to look their betters in the eye. Mr. Carter had made that
very clear in several messages. Unsure what to do, Ricky
tried to lower his gaze once more.

“If you keep looking away from me, you‟re going to

make me think you‟re ignoring me.” The words were
whispered against his ear.

Horrified that his master could think any such thing,

Ricky quickly turned back to him. Their lips were only
separated by a fraction of an inch.

Ricky‟s eyes opened very wide. Masters didn‟t kiss

their submissives—and he was going to be Mr. Carter‟s
submissive not his boyfriend. If he forgot that then—

The thought melted from his mind as the older man

brought their mouths together. Ricky‟s lips automatically
parted in invitation. A hand came to rest on the back of his
head and tugged at his hair until he tilted his head back to
just the right angle.

Mr. Carter‟s tongue thrust into his mouth, slick and

confident, taking over Ricky‟s whole world. His eyes fell
closed, every brain cell he possessed turned its attention to
his lips in an effort to remember every single perfect detail.
When the older man pulled back, Ricky couldn‟t help but
whimper.

“There may well be rewards for boys who pay

attention, but you can be damn sure there‟ll also be

Call Me Sir, Boy!

punishments for those who don‟t,” Mr. Carter informed
him.

Ricky swallowed rapidly. He held the older man‟s gaze

for as long as he could. Inside him, an instinct he‟d never
properly explored, screamed that he should lower his eyes,
that staring back into the dark brown gaze was tantamount
to insulting the other man, to failing to properly submit to
his master.

His strength faltered. He glanced at the floor, before

forcing his attention back up.

Mr. Carter smiled slightly as their eyes met. The anger

that Ricky expected to see there didn‟t materialize.

“An instant expert would be bloody annoying after the

first few orders.”

Ricky tried to understand. It wasn‟t easy when all the

blood in his body seemed to have been diverted away from
his brain and toward to his cock.

“I‟ve no objection to watching you struggle to obey a

new order, Ricky—only to you failing to try,” the dominant
clarified.

“Yes, sir.” Ricky‟s words were barely whispered. His

attention dropped to his master‟s lips, wondering if he‟d be
permitted another kiss.

Mr. Carter‟s hand fell on his arse again instead. Heat

blossomed through his left buttock, just as it had through
the right. Ricky closed his eyes for a second, but when he
blinked them open, he looked straight to his master.

The older man‟s eyes were sparkling. It was almost

impossible to believe he wasn‟t really enjoying their first
“date”. Success rushed through Ricky‟s veins. It wasn‟t
what a submissive was supposed to feel, Ricky knew that. A
submissive was supposed to be humble and modest. He was
supposed to be grateful for any scrap a more worthy man
was willing to throw his way.

Ricky dropped his gaze for a second as all the things

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he‟d read in Mr. Carter‟s emails hit headlong into the
actions of the man before him and everything in his world
faltered for a second.

A strong cupped hand connected with his arse again. It

was undeniably real, a completely solid point of reference.
As Ricky concentrated in on the shockwaves it sent rolling
through his body, the emails became less valid by the
moment. This was what was important. Standing there with
his master, with leather caressing his skin and his master‟s
hand falling against his arse, the insubstantial words he‟d
seen on a computer screen faded away as if they‟d never
existed.

Back then, he‟d always wondered if it would be

something he‟d enjoy the way some other men seemed to,
or if it would be something he‟d need to suffer through for
his master‟s pleasure. But, there was no wondering any
more. His throbbing cock made him sure there would be
few things that he could ever enjoy more, and, as he lifted
his eyes to his master‟s face, he realized that Mr. Carter
looked pleased with him for that.

Ricky glanced down again. There was a large obvious

erection barely concealed behind the dominant‟s fly. Ricky
swallowed as he imagined wrapping his lips around the
other man‟s cock and—

The next spank was harder. The sound of it seemed to

echo through the room, as if there wasn‟t another man there,
as if no other noises existed in the world. “Focus, Ricky.”

He blinked and looked up at the dominant.
“Stay in the moment,” Mr. Carter ordered. “No

thinking about before, or after. Just concentrate on now.”

“Yes, sir,” Ricky whispered.
“But, yes, if you‟re good, I will let you suck me off

later,” the dominant promised with a chuckle. “Would you
like that?”

“Yes, sir.”

Call Me Sir, Boy!

As soon as his master‟s hand left his arse, Ricky knew

what was going to happen. He intended to simply brace
himself for the blow, but somehow his body was far more
inclined to push his arse out and welcome the stinging
contact instead.

He held the older man‟s eyes as best he could,

desperately trying to live in the moment the way Mr. Carter
had told him to. Every time his mind tried to rush off, he
pulled it back the way a very small and inexperienced
owner might try to control an enthusiastic but completely
untrained Great Dane.

Ricky focused on the heat that seemed to radiate

through his skin, and on the way the leather caressed the
front of his body. He pushed his mind to think about the
way the restraints wrapped around his wrist right then, and
not to wonder how many other ways his master might tie
him up in the future. Helplessly, he pulled at the cuffs—not
trying to get away but not able to stay still either.

There was a rhythm to the spanks. Ricky hadn‟t

realized he was swaying according to it, until he pushed his
arse out for more and didn‟t receive another smack from the
other man‟s hand.

“Good boy.” Mr. Carter‟s palm stroked over the heated

skin, pulling a moan from him and causing Ricky to squirm
against the cross once more. His cock rubbed against the
well padded leather, sending waves of pleasure rushing
through him.

The dominant squeezed his arse. Ricky tried to bite

back another moan and completely failed. Every inch of his
skin on his buttocks felt so sensitive even the slightest touch
took his breath away. Suddenly, he realized his backside had
to be bright red, but he barely had time to think about that,
let alone panic about how many men it was on view to right
then.

“I promised you a treat if you were good, didn‟t I?”

Kim Dare

Ricky nodded. His tongue flicked out against his lips in

expectation.

“And were you good?”
Each and every muscle in Ricky‟s body tensed. A

kernel of guilt blossomed inside him. He held the
dominant‟s eyes for what felt like several consecutive
lifetimes. It was a test—it had to be. Submissives weren‟t
encouraged to think too highly of themselves or their
behavior, that sort of praise was for men who were far better
than him.

Except, as Ricky looked up at the older man‟s eyes,

lying to him was impossible. “Yes, sir,” he whispered.
Emails be damned, whether he should be or not, he was
proud to realize he‟d done his best to be good for his master.

Mr. Carter smiled. He reached for the cuff wrapped

around Ricky‟s left wrist. Within seconds, all four restraints
were undone. The urge to reach back and rub his sore arse
was almost overwhelming, but Ricky didn‟t have time to
give in to it. A large hand, still hot from administering his
spanking, came to rest on Ricky‟s shoulder and turned him
to face his master.

“On your knees.”
His master‟s hand descended with him. It even

tightened its grip as Ricky lowered himself to the floor, as if
Mr. Carter doubted his ability to do that without falling flat
on his face. Almost as if the older man‟s protection gave
him permission to be more vulnerable than Ricky would
have allowed himself to be in any other situation, he
suddenly found himself feeling lightheaded.

A little dizzy spell wasn‟t anything to worry about

though, because Mr. Carter‟s hand soon moved to the back
of Ricky‟s head and the dominant pulled him forward until
his forehead rested against the older man‟s fly.

His master‟s cock was right there against his lips. If it

hadn‟t been for Mr. Carter‟s trousers, he‟d have been able to

Call Me Sir, Boy!

taste him. Ricky couldn‟t help but mew his frustration as his
tongue caressed the dominant‟s fly and only ever managed
to taste leather.

Another chuckle filled the air. Mr. Carter‟s other hand

brushed against Ricky‟s lips as he reached for his zip.
“Good boy,” he whispered again.

Ricky looked up at him, then quickly back to his

crotch. With his own hands still hanging uselessly at his
sides, all he could do was wait as Mr. Carter took his time.
Each metallic click as he drew the zipper down seemed to
echo inside Ricky‟s head as he glimpsed neatly trimmed
blond curls and his master finally freed his shaft.

Lips already parted, Ricky leaned in. At the last

second, he realized he was acting without permission.
Mouth hovering less than a breath away from his master‟s
cock, he looked up.

A nod was all the encouragement he needed. His lips

wrapped around the tip. He quickly tried to take the older
man to the root in one swift movement, but the hand resting
on the back of his head tightened its grip on his hair and
stopped him short.

Controlling every detail, Mr. Carter fed his cock into

Ricky‟s mouth at exactly the speed he wanted to and no
faster.

Ricky murmured around the thick velvety shaft as it

gradually slid past his lips, filling him completely. Sweet,
salty pre-come caressed his taste buds as he worked his
tongue enthusiastically against his master‟s erection. Ricky
swallowed it down, eager to take anything his master was
willing to give him.

He glanced up as he realized there was no way in hell

he was going to be able to take the older man‟s entire shaft
without using his throat, and he didn‟t know how to do that.
Panic flashed inside him. He couldn‟t let Mr. Carter down.

Ricky had no idea if the older man saw that worry in

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his eyes, or if his decision had nothing to do with Ricky‟s
inexperience, but Mr. Carter didn‟t even try to sheath
himself to the hilt. Still holding Ricky‟s head still, he rocked
his hips back and thrust forward again, casually using his
submissive‟s mouth to relieve his frustration, as if that were
the most natural thing in the world.

Whimpering with pleasure, Ricky didn‟t just accept

that fact, he relished it. Leaving his own hands hanging idly
at his sides, he refused to reach back and rub his sore arse,
or reach forward and try to gain some pleasure for himself.

There was so much confidence in Mr. Carter‟s every

movement, so much bliss to be found in kneeling at his feet,
it almost felt as if it would be petty of him to complain that
his own erection was untouched and aching with need.

The hand in Ricky‟s hair tightened its grip. The fingers

of his master‟s other hand tapped his cheek, no harder than
he might tap a stranger politely on the shoulder.

“Focus,” Mr. Carter growled, his voice thick with

pleasure and lust.

Ricky moaned around his master‟s cock as he looked

back up at the older man. That was right. He was supposed
to focus and stay in the moment. To do anything else was an
insult to his master.

That thought was right in the front of his mind, and Mr.

Carter had Ricky‟s complete attention as his hips jerked
forward harder, pushing him deeper into Ricky‟s mouth for
just one brief second as he came.

Swallowing rapidly, determined to prove to his master

that he‟d be able to serve him well in that respect, even if
he‟d need lots of practice at damn near everything else a
dom might expect of him, Ricky took everything the other
man could give him.

Time seemed to distort around them. The moments

stretched out forever. At the same time, it was all over far
too quickly.

Call Me Sir, Boy!

There wasn‟t enough time to memorize every detail, to

truly enjoy the knowledge that he had pleased his master.
Yet, somehow there was more than enough time to worry he
hadn‟t been perfect enough to be found acceptable.

As Mr. Carter stilled and his cock started to soften

between Ricky‟s lips, the older man smiled down at him. He
ruffled his hair as he took his hand from the back of his
head and released him. He continued to smile as he slipped
his cock out of Ricky‟s mouth, tucked it away and did up
his fly.

While nothing happened to reinforce his worries,

Ricky was able to keep them at bay and let his more
optimistic thoughts reign. Kneeling before his master and
frantically trying to catch his breath so he‟d be ready for
another order, Ricky clenched his hands into fists and tried
to convince himself he didn‟t need to reach for his cock and
jack off that very second.

Mr. Carter chuckled and Ricky knew that he had

noticed his rudimentary attempts to control himself. “Tell
me what you want.”

“To please my master, sir.” The words rushed to the

forefront of Ricky‟s brain without him really needing to
think about them.

Mr. Carter parted his lips to answer—
“Sub24?”
Frowning, Ricky turned and looked over his shoulder.

A man stood behind him. He was dressed, like so many of
the men there, in black leather. Even the baseball cap on his
head was made out of the same material. Stitched onto it in
silver thread were the words Call me SIR, boy!

Ricky looked from that cap to the one on his master‟s

head, and at those same words printed there. As his internet
screen name sank into his mind, Ricky felt the blood drain,
very slowly, from his face.

Chapter Two

Jack didn‟t even try to think through the pretty pink

clouds of afterglow. Another man tried to touch his
submissive without his permission and he simply reacted.
His hand was around the others guy‟s wrist before one brain
cell even had time to bump into his neighbor.

“What the hell do you think you‟re doing?” Jack

demanded, as he automatically weighed the other man up
against him. They were roughly the same height. The other
man might have been slightly less broad across the
shoulders than him, but they were reasonably well matched
in everything else, from age to weight.

Jack‟s inspection finally landed on the baseball cap.

For a moment, his grip on the other man faltered. The guy
snatched his wrist away from him.

“Who are you?” Jack never remembered seeing him in

the club before.

“I‟m his master,” the guy spat.
Jack looked back to Ricky. The boy still knelt on the

floor. It seemed like that could only be considered a good
thing right then. If nothing else, it would mean the
submissive had less distance to fall when he passed out.

“Ricky!”
The younger man slowly turned his eyes towards Jack.
“Do you know this man?”

Call Me Sir, Boy!

“I…” Ricky‟s voice seemed to fail him. He looked

back and forth between them, real fear appearing in his eyes
for the first time that night.

“Stand up,” Jack ordered.
Ricky did as he was told. Jack had his arm half

extended towards the boy, but somehow the terrified
looking submissive managed to keep his balance, even if he
hadn‟t managed to keep his erection.

“Come on,” Jack said, taking hold of Ricky‟s wrist in a

much gentler grip than he‟d used on the other man.

“Wait a—” the other dom began.
“You too,” Jack added. “Whatever the hell‟s going on,

I‟ll be damned if we‟re going to discuss it in the middle of
the bloody playroom!”

Putting the boy on show for a scene was one thing,

demanding Ricky answer all the questions he had for him in
front of a room full of curious onlookers was something
very different. Jack quickly led Ricky back into the bar, and
on into one of the quieter corners of the room, leaving the
other dom to follow or not as he chose.

The boy was still pale as hell. Jack put him in one of

the well-padded leather seats and set a hand on his shoulder
to steady him further. Ricky didn‟t even react as his spanked
arse hit the cushion.

A shadow fell over the table as the other man joined

them. Sitting down on the seat next to Ricky, Jack only left
the seat opposite the submissive available for the other dom.
There was no way in hell he was going to let the guy any
closer to Ricky than he had to.

“You came here to meet someone tonight, didn‟t you?”

Jack asked the younger man.

Ricky nodded. His breaths were more than a little

unsteady as he stared at the table in front of him.

“Who?” Jack prompted.

Kim Dare

“My master, sir,” Ricky whispered.
When the other dom would have spoken, Jack raised a

hand and stopped him short. “And how were you supposed
to recognize your master, Ricky?”

The submissive looked from one baseball cap to the

other and back again.

Jack failed to feel the least bit surprised. The only

emotion that ran through him was anger. Snatching the cap
off his head, he crumpled the fabric in his palm as he turned
to the other dom.

“Your name,” Jack demanded, and quickly turned back

to Ricky so he could see the boy‟s expression when another
card was either added to the precarious tower, or when one
was removed from the bottom of it and they all came
crashing down.

“Mr. Carter—I don‟t permit submissives to use my first

name.”

Ricky closed his eyes, but not before Jack saw the flash

of pain in them. He obviously recognized the surname, even
if he hadn‟t been allowed to know anything else.

When he opened his eyes, Ricky‟s gaze went to the cap

in Jack‟s fist. “I‟m so sorry, sir.” There was no doubt he
meant it, or that he really believed it was his fault.

Jack turned to Carter. “It never occurred to you that

another man might be wearing something similar?” he
demanded.

“He should have—” the idiot began.
“You‟re supposed to be a dominant. Whatever happens

between you and your submissive is your responsibility,”
Jack cut in.

Carter‟s eyes narrowed. “Whatever happens between

me and my submissive,” he said, “is none of your business.”

Jack held the other man‟s gaze for several seconds. The

worse thing was that the bastard actually had a point. If

Call Me Sir, Boy!

Ricky really had come there to meet him then… If Ricky
really did belong to him then…

“You really think you have the right to call him your

submissive when you can‟t even conceive a scenario that
wouldn‟t end with him submitting to a complete stranger?”
Jack bit out.

“The orders I gave him—”
“Were all about you getting off on a pretty bit of

choreography. Did you even think about the safety of a man
you‟re so quick to call „your submissive‟?”

“He‟ll be punished for his mistakes,” Carter said,

coldly.

Jack just stared at him for several seconds. He really

didn‟t have a bloody clue. Suddenly the stupid hat made so
much sense. That was probably the only chance he had to
get anyone who had a clue what they were doing, to use an
honorific with him.

Anyone who had a clue… Jack turned to Ricky.

Apparently bored with listening to the dominants argue
among themselves, he was staring at the wall opposite him
as if lost in his own thoughts. His expression was
completely unreadable.

“Ricky?”
The younger man swallowed. “Mr. Carter is right, sir,”

he whispered. “I offered him my submission. I belong to
him.” His voice was completely dead.

Jack tucked a knuckle under Ricky‟s chin. He made

him turn and meet his gaze. “You‟re not wearing his collar.”
And it was bloody obvious he hadn‟t laid eyes on the fool in
person until that night either.

“He hasn‟t earned it yet,” Carter answered for him. “If

his stupidity tonight is anything to go by, he won‟t gain one
any time soon either.”

I’d give him one right now. Jack had no idea how he

Kim Dare

managed to keep those words back.

Ricky flinched at Carter‟s insult, but his resolve to go

through with the plan he had when he arrived at the club
didn‟t seem to falter. Whether or not Carter deserved his
submission, Ricky obviously intended to give it to him.

“You‟re sure this is what you want,” Jack pushed. If

the boy was half as smart as he took him for, he‟d be able to
translate “this” into “him” easily enough.

Ricky nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Jack turned to Carter. The dom smirked in triumph.

Jack looked back to Ricky. There wasn‟t anything else to
say. If he really believed he belonged to Carter, there wasn‟t
anything Jack had a right to say.

Jack slowly pulled himself to his feet. Ricky didn‟t

look up. Turning away, Jack walked straight up to the bar
without another word. By the time he reached the long
length of polished mahogany, he already had a plan.

“Do you see the sub sitting at the back table?” he asked

the bartender.

The big mountain of a man looked past Jack‟s shoulder

and smiled. “Pretty,” he observed. “Unfortunately, I don‟t
believe he‟s on the club‟s Valentine‟s menu tonight. If you
want to play with him, you‟ll have to speak to his master
and—”

“His name‟s Ricky,” Jack cut in, his tone of voice

cooling rapidly. “The man with him, the one who claims to
be a dominant, is called Carter.” Jack dipped into his pocket
and pulled out a note. “They don‟t leave the room, and he
doesn‟t raise a hand to the boy. Understand?”

The fifty disappeared into a pocket. The bartender

nodded. Jack didn‟t bother to say anything else. He‟d seen
the look in the other man‟s eyes as he registered that he was
dealing with a serious dominant who wasn‟t in the mood to
be disobeyed.

Jack strode out of the room. He didn‟t look over his

Call Me Sir, Boy!

shoulder. Marching into the playroom, he quickly sought
out a familiar face in the crowd, one that wasn‟t in the
middle of a scene.

A pissed-off looking guy with a shaved head and more

piercings than any sensible person should be able to fit in
their body was standing on the edge of a little group
watching a whipping post being set up. Perfect!

Jack quickly took McCormack to one side and began to

explain the situation.

“And the boy‟s obviously out of his depth,” he

finished, just a minute later. “If you hear him say no, or
Red, or anything that sounds even vaguely like a safe word,
step in.”

McCormack nodded his understanding. Within

seconds, the other dom was heading into the bar. Jack stared
after him for a moment. Carter didn‟t have the balls to go up
against anyone who looked like McCormack, and if he was
stupid enough to try… well, sometimes it was good for a
man to learn that some books really did live up to their
covers.

One item ticked off his list of things to do, it was time

for Jack to turn his attention to the next point. His hand
tightened into a fist at his side as he made his way through
the club, seeking out a head of pale blond hair among the
crowd.

The cap was still trapped between his fingers. It hadn‟t

been anything a sane man would put on his head to start
with. If he didn‟t find the brat soon, Jack was pretty sure it
wasn‟t even going to be recognizable as a hat.

A blur of movement caught his attention out of the

corner of his eye. Bret had obviously seen him first, and he
wasn‟t wasting any time before trying to make his escape.

Marching after him, Jack reached a corridor leading to

the back of the club, just as Bret was about to turn the
corner at the end of it.

Kim Dare

“Freeze!”
Bret‟s feet slowed to a reluctant halt. He looked warily

over his shoulder. Slowly, his gaze dropped. He looked
down at the crumpled cap in Jack‟s hand and, at the last
moment, he seemed to decide he didn‟t want to wait for
Jack to reach him after all. He turned to take flight once
more.

A hand around the neck of his tight black T-shirt

quickly killed that plan.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Jack demanded as

he pulled him back. Turning the smaller man around, he
moved his grip to the front of Bret‟s T-shirt collar, just
beneath the metal chain that graced his neck.

“He thinks he‟s a dom!”
Jack paused, glaring down at his friend‟s submissive.

“What?”

“Ricky‟s been talking to him online for weeks and he

thinks he‟s a real dom. He doesn‟t know the difference. I
just thought—”

“You thought?” Jack asked, incredulously.
“He‟s perfect for you,” Bret rushed out, the words

almost colliding with each other in his haste to stutter them
up. “He‟s just the kind of sub you want, and you‟re just the
kind of master he needs, and Carter is going to ruin him if
he ever gets his hands on him in real life and—”

Jack stared down at him. “He belongs to another man.

He submitted to me thinking I was his master,” he
enunciated very carefully, making sure Bret would hear and
understand every syllable. “Do you have any idea what—?”

“Do you have hold of him by his collar?”
Jack looked down the corridor. Marcus stood at the

other end of it studying the grip Jack had taken on his
submissive very carefully.

“No,” Jack said. “By his shirt.”

Call Me Sir, Boy!

“That‟s okay then,” Marcus said, with a slight smile.

Approaching them both, he leaned a shoulder against the
wall a few feet away and observed them without any sign of
any lingering concern. “What have you done this time?” he
asked his submissive.

Jack held up the crumbled baseball cap.
Marcus raised an eyebrow. “You lost the bet,” he

reminded him. “Next time, make sure you find out the
stakes beforehand.”

“The sub in the bar was looking for a man wearing a

cap with these exact words on it,” Jack informed him. “That
was how he was supposed to know which dom was his
master.”

“Oh…” Jack watched the thought settle into his

friend‟s head and all the repercussions of each of their
actions sink in.

“Ricky‟s the guy from your evening class, right?” he

asked Bret.

“You knew—”
Marcus shook his head. “Never seen him before. Just

know the name. I‟ve been hearing about him for weeks.” He
held his hand out.

Jack tossed the cap to him, his other hand still keeping

Bret pinned firmly to the wall.

Marcus turned the cap over in his hands, studying it

carefully. “Where did you get it?”

“Bought it out of my allowance, sir,” Bret said.
Marcus studied it for a few extra seconds. “He‟s been

on a really tight reign since that credit card bill came in last
month. He wouldn‟t waste money on mischief right now.
And I can vouch for the fact he has his friend‟s best interests
at heart.”

Jack looked back to Bret.
“He doesn‟t know that Carter isn‟t a real dom,” Bret

Kim Dare

said, softly. “He‟s been telling me all the things the guy‟s
been emailing him about. He might be a sadist, sir, but he‟s
not a dom. And I know Ricky could be a great sub, but if he
ends up belonging to him then…”

Jack slowly released his grip on the other man‟s T-

shirt.

“I tried to get him to come to the club and meet you,

but he wouldn‟t listen. Then, when he told me what he was
planning to do tonight, there wasn‟t time to waste talking.”

Jack ran his hand through his hair as he tried to think.
Ricky belonged to Carter. The only man who could

change that was Ricky. No matter which way he turned it
over in his head, no matter how right Bret might be about
how well suited they could be, there was nothing Jack could
actually do except worry about it all.

Being a dom didn‟t count for sod all right then. The

ball was firmly in Ricky‟s court.

*****

Ricky‟s heart raced so fast he could barely hear

anything past the pounding in his ears. Every muscle in his
body begged for permission to be given free rein to turn
around and let him see where the other man had gone, but
somehow he managed to lift his gaze and meet Mr. Carter‟s
eyes instead.

“What the hell do you think you‟re doing?” Mr. Carter

snapped.

“I‟m sorry, sir. I—”
“Did I give you permission to use the furniture?” the

dominant cut in.

“My master said—” Ricky stopped himself short, but it

was too late. The damage had already been done.

Mr. Carter lifted a hand, Ricky only just swayed out of

range of the blow in time. That seemed to make the
dominant more furious. The older man reached out and

Call Me Sir, Boy!

grabbed hold of Ricky‟s wrist, just above the leather cuff.
Dragging him forward, Mr. Carter pulled him off the chair.
Ricky‟s knees connected heavily with the floor as he
tumbled off the well-cushioned seat.

Some sort of survival instinct finally took over. Ricky

tried to pull his hand out of the his grip.

Mr. Carter‟s fingers tightened painfully around his

wrist. “I am your master. Don‟t you ever forget that!”

Ricky blinked up at him. It was all true. He‟d been

thinking about Mr. Carter as his master for weeks. It
shouldn‟t be hard to continue to believe it now that he‟d
actually met him in person.

The dominant‟s other hand grabbed Ricky‟s hair and

yanked at the strands, forcing his head down. “Next time
you try to look me in the eye,” Mr. Carter spat. “You‟re
going to feel the back of my hand—and you won‟t be able
to dodge the blow.”

“Yes, sir,” Ricky rushed out as Mr. Carter pushed his

head down further toward the floor. Pain throbbed in his
shoulder and all the way down his arm as the dominant
twisted his wrist.

“You don‟t want to add any more punishments to the

list you‟ve got coming,” Mr. Carter warned, but he didn‟t
really sound like he hoped Ricky would take heed of his
advice. It seemed far more like he was looking forward to
delivering as many as possible.

Suddenly, Mr. Carter pushed him away. Ricky half

tumbled backward before he regained his balance. Rubbing
his shoulder, he kept his eyes fixed firmly on the floor just
in front of him. The only thing he could see of the dominant
was his boots and the bottom part of his leather trousers.

They looked very new and glossy compared to his

master‟s. Ricky flinched at the thought. Compared
to…Ricky didn‟t know what else to call him. The man he‟d
submitted to wasn‟t his master. He had no right to call him

Kim Dare

that. No right to think of him as that either.

“Keys.”
Swear words scrolled through Ricky‟s head faster and

faster, until they made his head spin. One of Mr. Carter‟s
boots jerked forward. A spike of pain shot through Ricky‟s
knee.

“Answer!”
“I gave them to…”
He didn‟t need to look up to know how furious the man

sitting above him would be with his confession. And Mr.
Carter had every right to be pissed off with him. Dominants
couldn‟t be expected to be patient with submissives. That
wasn‟t the way things worked. Every email Ricky had ever
read told him that.

Except, his master had been as patient as hell with him.

Everything his friend Bret had said about what a real master
was like crept into Ricky‟s head as he stared down at the
floor, drowning out the email text.

Bret had been talking about dominants like the man

he‟d submitted to. That was what he‟d been trying to tell
him when they chatted after their evening classes. There
were dominants out there who were nothing like Mr. Carter
and—

A sharp slap caught Ricky across the side of his head.

Jerking away from the blow as quickly as he‟d ever leaned
into a spank from his master, Ricky looked up and stared
Mr. Carter straight in the eye.

The dominant‟s eyes widened in anger. His hand

moved. Ricky caught hold of the older man‟s wrist before
he had a chance to try to strike him again.

“What the hell do you think you‟re doing?” the

dominant bit out.

Ricky glared at Mr. Carter‟s hand. The dominant tried

to pull his wrist out of his grasp, but Ricky didn‟t let go.

Call Me Sir, Boy!

“You‟ve got one hell of a beating coming after

submitting to another man without my permission,” Carter
spat.

Ricky met the dominant‟s eyes once more. “I thought

he was you. There was no way I could know he wasn‟t, sir,”
he said, as politely as he could manage.

“I decide what‟s acceptable behavior. I decide when

you deserve to be punished!”

No you don’t, my master does!
Somehow, Ricky kept the words back. Frowning, he

released his hold on the other man‟s wrist. He barely
resisted the temptation to wipe his hands, as if they were
dirty just from touching the self-declared dom.

His head was spinning with more confusion than it

seemed capable of containing. If the man he‟d been
submitting to when Mr. Carter arrived had said those words,
he knew he‟d have nodded his acceptance.

He‟d have trusted the other man to make good

decisions for him and not blame him for things that he
couldn‟t have realized he was doing wrong. It would have
felt right with him.

Ricky swallowed several times in quick succession. He

looked up at Carter. “I can‟t do this.”

“What did you say?” Carter demanded.
“I can‟t do this,” Ricky repeated. He tried to add a “sir”

to the words, but the honorific stuck in his throat. As he
looked up at the dominant, it was impossible to feel the
slightest bit of respect for him. He just seemed pathetic.

“You‟ll do as I say.”
“No.” It hadn‟t even been possible for Ricky to

imagine saying that to his master, but it was easy to say it to
Carter.

Ricky began to pull away. Carter made a grab for him.

Tumbling backward, Ricky managed to evade his touch, but

Kim Dare

only just.

“Is there a problem here?”
Ricky looked up. A dominant loomed above him. From

his strange angle, half lying on the floor, it was hard to work
out where the guy‟s piercings ended and his tattoos began.
There didn‟t seem to be an inch of clear skin between them.

“What I do with my submissive is none of your

business,” Carter said.

“Are you his submissive?” the dominant asked. Several

piercings caught the light as he looked from Carter to Ricky
and back again.

Ricky silently shook his head as he pulled himself back

into a sitting position.

Carter launched himself to his feet, kicking Ricky in

the process. “You have no right to—”

The other dominant barely spared his temper tantrum

any more than a disgusted glance.

“Jack Bowen asked me to keep an eye on you,” he

informed Ricky. “You‟re under no obligation to remain with
this idiot unless you want to.”

Ricky pulled himself slowly to his feet. “I don‟t want

to, sir.” The honorific came easily then.

The dominant nodded and tilting his head towards the

door leading from the bar, deeper into the club. “Go on.”

Ricky strode quickly away. From what seemed to be a

long way off, he heard the tattooed dom tell Carter to leave
the club voluntarily, before it ceased to be a polite
suggestion that he do so.

Stepping into a quiet little corridor, Ricky leaned back

against the wall. The glossy black paintwork was cold
against his skin. He gasped as it made contact with his
spanked arse, but he didn‟t reach around to rub at the skin
the way he‟d wanted to earlier.

Lifting a hand, he pushed it into his hair instead, trying

Call Me Sir, Boy!

to make his brain work, wondering how the hell he could
have screwed everything up so badly.

A sound from his right warned him that he was about

to have company in the corridor. He only just had time to
hastily cover his cock with his hands. It was even harder to
ignore the other man‟s stares now that Mr. Bowen was
nowhere in sight.

He turned the name over in his head as he was once

more left alone in the corridor. At least he knew what the
other man‟s name was now. Jack Bowen. Mr. Bowen…

Ricky glanced in the general direction of the locker

room where he‟d left his clothes. If his locker key hadn‟t
been on the ring he gave to Mr. Bowen, Ricky was pretty
sure he‟d have given in to his embarrassment and slunk
away from the club in disgrace. As it was, he had little
choice but to seek out the dominant and beg to at least be
allowed access to his clothes.

Cautiously creeping forward, Ricky kept his hands

over his privates as he made his way further into the club
and tried to ignore the fact that it meant leaving his spanked
arse visible to the whole world and his master.

Peeking into various rooms, he found plenty of scenes

to make him blush and retreat rapidly, but Mr. Bowen
wasn‟t involved in any of them. Ricky wasn‟t sure if he
should be grateful for that or not. If the man he couldn‟t
help but think of as his master had already left then he was
royally screwed, but the idea of seeing the dominant
screwing someone else… His blood ran cold at the very
idea.

Ricky hesitated as he glanced into the next room. It

seemed to be one of the quieter lounge rooms, all furnished
with comfortable leather chairs and sofas. There was even a
roaring fireplace. And there was Mr. Bowen, sitting in one
of the arm chairs flanking the fire.

Ricky swayed as half his instincts tried to drag him

Kim Dare

forward, and all the others screamed at him to run away.
Another submissive was already sitting at Mr. Bowen‟s feet.

Bret.
It wasn‟t as if Ricky hadn‟t known his friend was a sub

or that he had a master he thought the world of. He‟d even
known that Bret knew about the club. But it had never
occurred to him that Bret might have been talking about Mr.
Bowen.

As Ricky watched, the other submissive looked away

from the fire. He glanced up at the man in the chair opposite
Mr. Bowen. Suddenly it was obvious exactly whose feet he
was really sitting at. The love in his eyes when he looked at
his master was clear.

Relief rushed through Ricky. He nibbled at his bottom

lip as he tried to work out what his next move should be and
how the hell he was supposed to get his locker key back
without ruining all the very pleasant memories he had built
up since he‟d entered the club. If those memories were all
he was going to have, then…

Suddenly, as if he could feel Ricky‟s eyes boring into

him, Mr. Bowen looked toward the doorway. The
dominant‟s whole attitude changed as their eyes met. Any
sleepy relaxation that had been in his manner a moment
before, fled. He sat up straighter, his gaze became stronger.
Mr. Bowen beckoned Ricky closer.

Taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders as best

he could, Ricky somehow convinced his hands to fall to his
sides. He stopped trying to cover himself up and hide
anything from his…from Mr. Bowen.

Ricky hesitated when he noticed a slight frown marring

the dominant‟s forehead as he got closer.

“What happened?” Mr. Bowen demanded.
Ricky hesitated, his eyes dropped to the rug under Mr.

Bowen‟s feet as he knelt in front of him.

“Focus.”

Call Me Sir, Boy!

Ricky already knew that command. He looked up and

met the other man‟s eyes.

“I‟ve only known you an hour, and I already know

you‟re not the kind of man who‟d walk away from a
dominant, even one as blatantly incompetent as Carter,
unless he did something especially stupid,” the dominant
informed him.

Ricky shook his head. “I‟m fine, sir.”
Mr. Bowen didn‟t seem to be listening. He was looking

at Ricky‟s knee. Following his gaze, Ricky noticed there
was shoe polish on his leg. He rubbed at it. The mark didn‟t
fade away. He rubbed harder, until Mr. Bowen took hold of
his wrist and stopped him.

Ricky looked up. “It was just a clip around the ear and

a couple of kicks.” He cleared his throat and forced himself
to remember the keys. “Mr. Bowen?”

The dominant smiled slightly. “Jack is fine.”
Ricky looked down as the last of his hopes died.
Jack chuckled. “I‟m quite capable of dominating a man

I‟m on first-name terms with, Ricky. Carter might need that
sort of crutch. I don‟t.”

Ricky offered a tentative smile back, but soon turned

serious again. “I didn‟t know, sir,” he whispered.

“That Carter wasn‟t what a dom should be?” Jack

guessed.

“I did try to tell you,” Bret chipped in.
Ricky looked over his shoulder. He‟d almost forgotten

his friend was there, but he nodded his agreement with the
other submissive.

“He did, sir,” Ricky admitted, looking up at Jack.
Jack nodded his understanding. “I know. He might be a

brat, but he‟s a good friend to people he cares about.”

“Yes, sir.” And he was obviously a friend to a lot of the

men in that club. Bret belonged there, but as Ricky looked

Kim Dare

around him, he knew he didn‟t—not really, compared to all
of them, he was just a silly little boy who‟d played a stupid
game on the internet.

Keeping up with Carter would have been easy. Part of

Ricky understood Carter hadn‟t really known what he was
doing any more than Ricky did himself. But Jack knew
what he was doing. So did Bret, so did… Ricky glanced at
the man on the other side of the fire.

“That‟s Marcus,” Jack filled in for him. “He‟s Bret‟s

master.”

Ricky nodded his understanding. Marcus was one of

Jack‟s friends too, that much was obvious. They all
belonged there.

“I just…I didn‟t mean to disturb you all, sir,” Ricky

began, “but my locker key is on the ring I gave you earlier,
and—”

“Is Ricky allowed to have a drink, sir?” Bret cut in.
Jack nodded. ”I think that would be a very good

idea.”He handed something to Bret as the other submissive
rose to his feet. A look passed between them, and Bret
seemed to know exactly what the other man wanted him to
do.

Ricky had never felt more lost or out of place in his

life.

Chapter Three

Jack stared down at the young man kneeling at his feet.

He didn‟t seem to know what to do now. Ricky stared
through the door Bret had disappeared through, as if it
might hold all the answers in the universe.

When a few seconds reflection didn‟t produce any

change, Jack ruffled his fingers through the boy‟s hair to get
his attention. The submissive glanced up at him.

“I really didn‟t mean to gatecrash—” Ricky fell silent

as Jack pressed a fingertip against his lips.

He ran his hand over the boy‟s head again. A “clip

around the ear”. It could mean damn near anything,
especially when it was used by a man who may well not
want to admit how bad his taste in dominants had really
turned out to be.

Ricky looked at Jack as if he thought he might have

lost his mind, but he didn‟t flinch as if Jack had found any
sore spots. It couldn‟t have been that hard a blow. If it had
been able to hurt him, it had probably been his confidence
rather than anything else.

“A guy stepped in. He said you asked him to…” Ricky

trailed off.

“To keep an eye on you?” Jack suggested. “Yes, that

was McCormack. What happened to make him step in?”

Ricky frowned slightly, apparently deep in thought.

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Jack tugged gently at the strands of hair passing under

his fingers. Ricky looked up.

“What‟s going on in that head?”
“He didn‟t ask.”
Unable to follow, Jack could only stare down into a

pair of pretty green eyes and admire the view as he waited
for more information to be offered to him.

“He knew I submitted to you thinking that you were

him, sir,” Ricky whispered. ”But he didn‟t ask if you‟d hurt
me.” The words were said very slowly, as if he was only
then realizing how significant the omission had been.

“That‟s because he‟s an idiot who wouldn‟t know a real

dominant if one…” Jack couldn‟t help but chuckle at the
image that appeared inside his head. “Correction, he would
know what a real dominant is if one caught him around the
neck.” Damn, but it would feel good to do that.

Ricky smiled slightly as he saw Jack‟s expression.
Bret had been right—he needed a dominant who would

be protective over him and fuss over him when necessary, a
master who would fall in love with his submissive rather
than simply use and discard him.

Jack cleared his throat. “I take it your association with

Carter is at an end?”

Ricky nodded.
Jack felt something relax inside him. Just having that

simple confirmation let him lean back in his chair and feel
truly comfortable for the first time since he‟d first set eyes
on the boy. “Good.”

Ricky glanced up at him. There was a question in his

eyes. Jack was just about to find out what it was, when Bret
chose that moment to turn up, with a big winter sweater
draped over his arm and what looked very much like a mug
of tea in his hands.

Jack took both. He handed the sweater straight to

Call Me Sir, Boy!

Ricky.

The boy took it, a little hesitant, but with obvious

gratitude in his eyes. “Thank you, sir.” He wasted no time
pulling the thick woolen garment over his head.

It was a loose fit on Jack, and it swamped Ricky,

draping down far enough to cover him to mid-thigh and
hide his cock far more competently than his hands had
while he stood in the doorway.

It was a pretty view to hide away. On the other hand it

was also far too pretty a picture to share—even with Bret
and Marcus.

“You can share the tea if you like, sir,” Bret piped up.

“You both like it the same way. No milk, four sugars and
stewed for about two hours. Just in case you two need any
further evidence that you‟re perfect for each other, or
anything…”

Jack spared the other submissive just one glance. “You

should have said. The same taste in tea—that changes
everything!”

“I did tell you that—”
“Yes, Bret, everyone knows you‟re very clever,” Jack

cut in, not quiet able to remember everything the chattering
young man had said to him, and not willing to have him
blurt out something bizarre when everything was still
balanced on a knife edge.

Bret opened his mouth. Jack didn‟t let him get a single

word out. “And, yes, I‟m sure we‟ll all hear about it every
damn Valentine‟s Day from here to eternity, so just save it
for now.”

“Yes, sir,” Bret relented, perfectly cheerfully, as he

leaned back against the leg of his master‟s armchair.

Jack looked back to Ricky. As he stared down at him,

Jack ran over what he‟d just said in front of the boy. At least
he didn‟t seem too freaked out by the prediction of
Valentine‟s days yet to come. As stupid as it was to suggest

Kim Dare

anything over and above a second date after just a brief
association, but it didn‟t feel stupid inside his head. It felt
perfectly natural.

Jack took a sip of the tea before handing it to Ricky.

The boy wrapped his hands around it, warming his palms on
the hot china.

“Did you drive here tonight?” Jack asked.
Ricky shook his head. “Bus, sir. I don‟t have a car.”
“And how did you intend to get home? Unless I‟m

very much mistaken, the last bus left this part of town a
long time ago.”

Ricky stared down at his tea for a little while.
“You expected to go home with your master.” Jack

realized.

Ricky glanced up at him, shock in his eyes, as if he‟d

just suggested something he was trying very hard to avoid
suggesting right then.

Oh… Jack paused for a second as he held back a grin.

“Who do you think of as your master, Ricky?”

The boy blushed just as sweetly as he had when he

walked through the club bare-arse naked.

Jack smiled. “Better than thinking of that idiot that

way,” he observed as he leaned forward in his chair and
lowered his voice as if they were sharing secrets.

“You don‟t mind, sir?” Ricky checked, sounding so

uncertain of the whole damn world.

Jack reached out and stroked his knuckles down the

younger man‟s cheek. With any other guy he was pretty sure
he‟d have thought he‟d just met a psychotic stalker, but as
he looked down at Ricky it was hard to believe that Bret
hadn‟t been right about how well matched they‟d be. “I
don‟t mind at all.”

“Do you think…?”
Unless Jack was very much mistaken, even Ricky

Call Me Sir, Boy!

didn‟t know how he wanted to finish the sentence.

“I think you should finish your tea, then it‟s time for us

to go home.”

“Yes, sir!”
It was a wonder the boy didn‟t scald his tongue, the

speed at which he poured the steaming hot tea down his
throat, but Jack couldn‟t bring himself to complain about
that. Within minutes they were waving goodbye to an
amused Marcus and a very smug-looking Bret.

In the locker room, Jack opened Ricky‟s locker for him

and watched him get dressed. He smiled as the boy
squirmed when his jeans rubbed against his reddened and
apparently very sensitive backside.

The younger man didn‟t ask him to take the restraints

off his wrists and ankles and Jack didn‟t offer to, but he did
toss the oversized sweater to him to put on once more.

The drive home was conducted in almost complete

silence. Jack glanced at his companion once or twice. The
boy didn‟t seem to mind the quiet and it wasn‟t an
uncomfortable hush. Jack didn‟t feel any need to speak up
to soothe the other man‟s nerves.

When Jack stopped the car in the drive outside his

house and led Ricky through the front door, it was almost
impossible to believe they hadn‟t come home together every
evening for years. It was only as he closed the door behind
them and caught Ricky studying him out of the corner of his
eye that Jack remembered just how new all this had to be to
the younger man—how nervous he had every right to be.

“Your safe word still applies,” Jack told him.
“Yes, sir,” Ricky said, his voice sounding small and

almost lost in the middle of the large open plan space.

Jack leant against the stark, white wall just inside the

door. “Carter was the first dominant you got to know,
wasn‟t he?”

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Ricky hesitated. His fingers fiddled with the edges of

the overly long sleeves.

Jack raised an eyebrow at him.
“I thought he was a dominant, sir,” Ricky said

carefully.

Jack nodded his understanding. He was obviously a

quick learner, and willing to admit his mistakes too.
Stepping closer to the boy, Jack ran his fingers down his
sweater-clad arm. “I was the first man you actually
submitted to?”

Ricky nodded.
“Good.”
The submissive glanced up at him as if he actually

doubted he was telling him the truth.

Jack didn‟t try to conceal his amusement. “In case Bret

didn‟t mention it, most good doms tend to be as possessive
as hell. I‟d be lying if I said I liked the idea of any other
man ever having laid a hand on you—hearing you tell me
that one had received your submission isn‟t my idea of fun.”

“Mr. Carter said…” Ricky looked down for a moment,

as if expected to be slapped for even mentioning the other
man‟s name.

“Go on,” Jack prompted.
“He said that entertaining his master‟s friends was part

of being a submissive.”

“Then you‟d best learn how to juggle or do card tricks,

because that‟s the only entertainment you‟ll be giving
anyone but me.” Jack made damn sure there was no way
anyone could doubt how serious he was about that.

Ricky smiled slightly, but his nerves were still obvious.
If Jack had taken the boy to his bed that moment, tied

him up and whipped him halfway to oblivion, he knew that
Ricky wouldn‟t have uttered a word of complaint. That part
of submission seemed to come so naturally to him, it was

Call Me Sir, Boy!

impossible to imagine him acting any other way.

Which was why it was a bloody good thing he‟d gone

home with a man who didn‟t think that just because he
could do anything he wanted with a boy, that meant he
should do it.

Walking across to the sofa, Jack sat down. Picking up

an oversized black cushion, he dropped on the floor at his
feet. “Come here.”

Ricky walked quickly across to him and knelt neatly on

the cushion. His hands went behind his back, his gaze
dropped to his master‟s crotch.

Jack shook his head as he ruffled his lover‟s hair and

tugged his head up. “There‟s no need for formality. Make
yourself comfortable.”

Jack told his own cock that there was no rush for a

second orgasm either.

Ricky cautiously shifted his weight and sat rather than

knelt on the big cushion. It was only a pity that Jack‟s cock
wasn‟t so willing to listen to his nice sensible words.

Jack cleared his throat once more. “Generally, you‟ll

have permission to use the furniture whenever you want.
You don‟t need to ask. But there will be times when I call
you over to sit at my feet like this, and at those times I‟ll
expect you to do as I say.”

Ricky blinked up at him as if he had no idea why Jack

was telling him that.

“You do want to know how things will work between

us, don‟t you?” Jack prompted.

“Yes, sir. But you don‟t have to—”
Jack silenced him with a fingertip. “I‟ll decide what I

do and don‟t have to do, and I‟m saying that it‟s one thing
for a man to do a scene with a boy in a club, but any dom
who had even the slightest clue what he was doing wouldn‟t
go any further than that with you, not without stopping for a

Kim Dare

few minutes to tell you exactly what‟s going on and what
you should expect.”

He took his finger away from Ricky‟s mouth, but the

boy didn‟t speak up.

“Don‟t get the wrong idea, pet. I have every intention

of taking you upstairs and screwing you right into the
mattress, but a good dom knows when to think with
something other than his cock.” Jack wasn‟t entirely sure
who he was trying to convince with those last few words.
He was really starting to wish he‟d worn looser trousers.

“Yes, sir.”
“Right now, I don‟t own you,” Jack said, as he forced

his brain to stay on point. “You aren‟t wearing my collar.
We don‟t have a contract or even any sort of agreement. I
have no reason to expect anything from you. You‟re free to
say your safe word and leave at any point.”

Ricky shook his head.
Jack smiled. “It‟s free to leave, not compulsory,” he

teased.

That coaxed a small responding smile out of the boy,

just as Jack hoped it would. There was no pretence in Ricky,
no apparent desire to hide how important his master‟s words
were to him, or how happy they were able to make him. It
was one hell of a welcome change after all the overly
polished and trained submissives Jack had played with in
the clubs in recent months.

Damn but Bret knew his tastes well…
“I have every intention of waking up tomorrow with

you still sleeping beside me,” Jack said, before he could
think better of it.

“Yes, sir.”
Jack stroked his fingers down Ricky‟s cheek, unable to

stop himself thinking back to how smoothly he‟d shaved
other parts of his body. “Questions.”

Call Me Sir, Boy!

Ricky shook his head.
Jack quickly changed the way his fingers rested against

the boy‟s skin and promptly stopped him doing that. “Think
of one.”

“Mr. Carter had rules I was supposed to obey,” Ricky

offered.

“And you‟d like to know what my rules are?”
Jack nodded. It was a reasonable request. It was also a

bloody good test. There were ways to introduce men to
rules that might make them uneasy at first, and it wasn‟t to
throw a list at them and hope for the best—he knew that,
even if Carter apparently didn‟t.

As Jack leaned back in his chair and stared down at his

new submissive, all he could really do was start with the
basics and hope for the best. “No lies. No other men—I
don‟t share and I don‟t tolerate submissives who wander off
in the direction of other guys. And I don‟t take more than
one submissive at a time either.”

For once, Ricky‟s expression was unreadable, as if so

much of his energy was going into processing the
information he was receiving, he didn‟t have any left to
spare for his facial muscles. “Yes, sir.”

“Your submission belongs to me, no one else,” Jack

went on, keeping his voice strong and confident. “No one
else has any right to expect your obedience or your service.
I‟m not saying I‟ll never ask you to fetch another man a cup
of tea, but you‟re not going to be at anyone‟s beck and call
other than mine, and you‟ll keep your clothes on.”

“Yes, sir.” Instead of getting more nervous, Ricky

seemed to be relaxing as the list went on. It seemed that
everything was slotting into place inside the submissive‟s
head rather than settling on top of him and weighing him
down.

“You work?” Jack asked.
Ricky nodded.

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“Doing what?”
“I‟m a chef, sir, at a nursing home on the other side of

town. I gave my notice when…”

“When Carter told you to,” Jack guessed.
“Yes, sir.”
“But you enjoy working there?”
Ricky cautiously nodded, as if he wasn‟t sure that was

something he should admit to.

“Would they keep you on if you told them you‟d

changed your mind?”

Ricky hesitated, but he also nodded again.
“First thing Monday, let them know your situation has

changed and you‟ll be staying on,” Jack ordered.

“Yes, sir.”
“And I‟ll take your job to mean you know how to

cook?”

Ricky nodded again, he even managed to add a pleased

smile to the gesture, as if he was completely thrilled to have
found he had a skill his master appreciated.

“I‟m not looking for a slave or a housekeeper,” Jack

informed him. ”But you‟ll be expected to do your share
when we live together.”

“Yes, sir.”
Jack paused for a moment. “You do realize you‟re

allowed to say things other than „yes, sir‟, right?”

“Yes, sir.” Ricky‟s lips curved into a little smile as he

said it.

“Brat.” Jack reached out and ruffled his hair as he said

it, just to make sure the boy wouldn‟t think that a tiny touch
of brattiness was an entirely bad thing. A little bit of spirit
was always something to be encouraged in a natural sub.

“Yes, sir,” Ricky said again, with a chuckle.
Jack shook his head at him as he leaned back in his

Call Me Sir, Boy!

chair, but he didn‟t stop smiling. “So, what do you think?”

Ricky‟s expression grew more serious. “Were you

actually looking for a submissive, sir?”

“Yes.” Even Jack himself hadn‟t realized how much he

wanted a man in his life who belonged entirely to him, until
he‟d sat in that back lounge of the club and known that his
ideal sub was sitting in another room with another man. “Of
course, it wouldn‟t do for either of us to speak too soon,” he
warned.

Ricky‟s expression faltered. “Yes, sir.”
“It would be best to make sure our chemistry is as hot

as I think it will be before we make any firm plans.”

“Yes, sir.” Suddenly Ricky sounded very worried

again.

“Part of you likes my plan, even if the rest of you

doesn‟t,” Jack observed, pointedly dropping his gaze.

Ricky followed Jack‟s line of sight down to his crotch,

where the way he was sitting had pushed the hem of his
jumper back. It was as if the boy had somehow managed to
forget that his cock was hard and straining against his fly.
But, now that he‟d remembered, he finally seemed to catch
up with what Jack was suggesting. “Yes, sir!”

Jack laughed as he rose from his chair and pulled

Ricky to his feet. Wrapping his fingers around the smaller
man‟s wrist, he felt the leather cuff move under his touch.
The memory of how Ricky had looked bound to the cross in
the club rushed to the front of his mind. He tightened his
grip on the boy as he led his new submissive up the stairs
and into his bedroom.

The room was dark. Jack knew where everything was

well enough to navigate around the space without any visual
clues, but he knew Ricky would be as good as blindfolded
in there. Tugging the boy into the room, Jack quickly
slammed the door closed, blocking out any trace of light,
before pushing the boy back against it.

Kim Dare

Ricky‟s lips parted as he yelped his surprise. That was

all the invitation Jack needed. As their mouths met, he
didn‟t waste a second. Any dominant who thought he was
too good to kiss his submissive didn‟t know what he was
missing. Jack wouldn‟t have traded Ricky‟s moans and
whimpers for the whole world on a stick.

Lost in dark and unfamiliar surroundings, Ricky clung

to Jack as if he was the boy‟s only point of reference, or
maybe even as if he felt safe while he had hold of his future
master.

That was good, Jack decided as he thrust his tongue

deeper into the younger man‟s mouth and made Ricky rise
onto his tiptoes in an effort to line their bodies up perfectly.
He wanted Ricky to know he was safe with him. It would
balance out the shiver that would no doubt run down the
submissive‟s spine the first time he realized that he was tied
up, not just in a roomful of men, where someone would
rescue him if he was to cry out for help, but alone in a
stranger's house.

Safe and just a little bit scared.
Nervous but still as turned on as hell.
Focused on his master‟s pleasure yet nevertheless

desperate for his own release.

A Valentine's date that was about leather rather than

roses.

A stranger, but still somehow perfect.
Jack smiled into the kiss. When he pulled back, Ricky

tried to cling to him, but Ricky wasn‟t the one calling the
shots right then. Swiftly turning the smaller man around,
Jack pushed Ricky forward. Only one of them knew the bed
and a nice thick mattress would be there to break his fall.

As his eyes slowly adjusted to the nearly complete

darkness, Jack saw arms flail. A sigh of relief reached Jack‟s
ears just a second after he heard someone land heavily on
the bed.

Call Me Sir, Boy!

Leaning over the boy, Jack pinned him to that safe

landing place without the slightest difficulty. “In time you‟ll
learn to trust your master,” he whispered into Ricky‟s ear,
quietly enough that he knew the boy would have to struggle
to make out his words.

“Yes, sir.” His words were no louder than Jack‟s.
“You‟ll realize that you‟ll never feel any pain that I

don‟t want you to feel.” Jack‟s hand slid over Ricky‟s
shoulder, and around in front of him, to cup his neck in his
palm.

The boy‟s pulse was racing. His Adam‟s apple bobbed

rapidly as he seemed to make some sort of attempt to
swallow down his nerves, but he showed no sign of
panicking just because Jack had him by the throat.

“And you‟ll come to understand that just because a

dom is capable of being a nice guy when he wants to be,
that doesn‟t mean he isn‟t capable of being a right bossy
bastard too,” Jack went on.

“Yes, sir!”
“You like that idea, Ricky?” Jack teased. “Do you like

knowing that there‟ll be times—a lot of times—where every
single thing you do and every word you say will be under
your master‟s control, and I‟ll give you hell if you dare to
disobey me?”

Ricky merely whimpered in response.
Jack grinned in the darkness as he rolled his hips and

pressed his erection against Ricky‟s arse. “There‟ll be times
when I‟ll decide to keep you frustrated for days, weeks,
maybe even months on end, just because it will amuse me.”

Ricky shook his head, but Jack had no doubt he‟d put

up with it, if he thought it would please his master.
Laughing, Jack rolled the younger man easily onto his back.

Catching Ricky‟s wrists, he pinned them to the bed on

either side of his head. It was still barely possible to make
out many of the details around them. But Jack could see the

Kim Dare

other man‟s big green eyes staring up at him, wide-eyed and
glorious as their crotches rubbed together.

“You‟ll come when I give you permission to, and only

then,” he informed Ricky, rocking his hips again in
emphasis.

“Sir?” The boy‟s voice was little more than a rasp.
“What?”
“If you…If you keep moving your hips like that, sir…”
He sounded so close to the edge, Jack had to see him.

Leaning to the right he hunted out the switch for the bedside
lamp in the darkness. Finally, bright white light flooded the
room.

Jack had needed to let go of one of Ricky‟s wrists to

light up their lives. By the time he looked back to his
submissive, Ricky had lifted his free hand and was trying to
shield his eyes with it, but the younger man made no protest
when Jack once more wrapped his fist around the beautiful
combination of pale skin and leather and pushed it down
against the bed.

“Did you choose these?” he said, frowning slightly as

he ran his finger along the edge of the cuffs.

Ricky glanced at his own wrist, apparently far too

turned on to make sense of the question without a visual
clue to go with it.

“Yes, sir.”
“On your own?” Jack pushed, damned if he‟d have any

hint of Carter or his ridiculous form of dominance in his
bed, or anywhere near his submissive.

“Yes, sir. I‟d bought them online, before I ever met—”

He cut himself short. Lifting his eyes he met Jack‟s gaze.

“Good boy,” Jack said. “In that case you can keep them

on when you take everything else off.” He rolled off the
smaller man and left him leaning back on the bed, looking
more than a little lost.

Call Me Sir, Boy!

“You stripped off in front of a club full of men,” Jack

reminded him. “Are you telling me you feel more shy now
than you did then?”

“Yes, sir.” Ricky felt like a fool saying it, but—yes, he

did. He‟d thought it had been terrifying to strip away each
garment in that club and wander through it praying he‟d
catch a glimpse of the baseball cap he was looking for soon.
Now, he knew that was nothing compared to removing
everything in front of Jack.

Very slowly, Ricky sat up on the bed, but he couldn‟t

make his hands reach for his clothes.

Getting naked in front of a man like Carter, in front of

a man he‟d never have been able to please, would have been
one thing. Taking off his clothes in front of a man who
could be pleased with someone, but wasn‟t pleased with
him, that was far more scary.

Jack didn‟t say a word, but the knowing look in his

eyes made Ricky sure that the dominant understood exactly
what was going on in his head. Pushing his nerves aside,
Ricky pulled the other man‟s sweater over his head. He was
about to toss it aside, when he stopped himself short.
Folding the chunky fabric into a neat square, he set it to one
side, just in case his master was one of those dominants
who liked to have everything tidy.

Trainers didn‟t take long to dispense with, neither did

his T-shirt or socks. Wriggling out of his jeans, Ricky
quickly put them in the same pile with the rest of his
clothes, leaving himself in nothing more than his boxers.
Pushing the dark green fabric down his legs and setting it
aside, Ricky kept his eyes firmly on his task. He didn‟t look
at the other man until Jack‟s fingers suddenly wrapped
themselves around his cock.

Eyes opening wide in shock, Ricky jerked his gaze up

to Jack‟s face. It was impossible for him to keep his hips

Kim Dare

still as the dominant‟s grip tightened around his shaft. He
thrust his cock desperately against the older man‟s hand
until, without the slightest warning, Jack took his hand
away.

Clawing at the blanket to either side of him Ricky

managed to keep his protest back. He forced himself to just
lean back and let Jack do as he wanted with him. The older
man‟s fingers didn‟t stray far. They stroked over the shaved
skin around his cock as if quietly fascinated by the
smoothness they found there.

“This was the first time you shaved yourself?”
Ricky managed to nod.
“I want you to keep yourself shaved for me all the

time.”

“Yes, sir,” Ricky whispered.
His fingers slid back toward Ricky‟s hole. He‟d shaved

away the stray hairs he‟d found between his cheeks too.

“You did a good job,” Jack said.
“Thank you, sir,” he whispered, more than a little

breathless.

“You can start with my shirt now.”
Ricky blinked. Somehow it had never occurred to him

that the other man would want to do anything more than
unzip his fly. It was more luck than judgment that his body
took over when his mind shut down and shuffled him into a
kneeling position on the bed.

His fingers slid across Jack‟s T-shirt as he reached for

its hem. Pulling it up, Ricky slowly revealed the older
man‟s body for the first time. All at once it was easy for him
to forget his own nakedness. Jack‟s body was far more
interesting than his own would ever be.

Leaning forward, Ricky dipped his head and pressed a

kiss to the centre of the dominant‟s chest. Carter would have
whipped him for his impudence. Jack merely chuckled as if

Call Me Sir, Boy!

amused by his silliness and his soppiness in equal measure.
The sound reverberated through the older man‟s torso,
making Ricky smile too.

He pressed another kiss a little lower down. A glance

up asked the dominant if he was allowed to remove his
jeans.

“Boots first,” Jack corrected.
“Yes, sir.”
There seemed to be a never ending line of laces and

holes on the dominant‟s boots and every damn one of them
seemed to be determined never to let Ricky get at Jack‟s
body. A frustrated little noise escaped from the back of his
throat as he fought with them.

Jack was grinning when Ricky glanced up at him. “Can

you look me in the eye and tell me you want your master to
make everything easy for you?”

Ricky looked down at the boot as it finally parted

company with his master‟s foot. “No, sir.” That wasn‟t what
he wanted. As he looked back to Jack‟s eyes, for the first
time in his life, he had the sense that someone understood
that part of him—that he was with someone who might play
with that side of his personality, but who would never
seriously use it to hurt him.

“Jeans.”
“Yes, sir.” Ricky carefully undid the other man‟s fly.

There were no boxers to get in the way. A little tug at the
leather and Jack‟s cock sprung free from its restrictions, his
erection just as glorious as it had been when they were in
the club. Ricky quickly leaned in and pressed a kiss against
the shaft.

The dominant might like to keep his sub smooth, but

he wasn‟t shaved himself. Dipping his head further, Ricky
felt the neatly trimmed hairs brush against his cheek. He
pressed a kiss against them too.

His master liked him to focus on the moment and the

Kim Dare

order he was supposed to be following at any given time.
Ricky forced himself to remember that as he turned his
attention away from his master‟s cock and back to pulling
the leather jeans down the other man‟s legs, baring the
entire lower half of his body.

When he looked up, Ricky realized that, for the first

time, Jack was completely naked. The older man leaned
back on his elbow, completely relaxed and at ease. He
didn‟t look the least bit less dominant without his clothes.

Ricky managed to look away for a moment, aware that

he was staring and that was probably something a
submissive shouldn‟t do. That was a mistake. He didn‟t see
the other man move. By the time he registered Jack‟s hand
around his wrist, he‟d already tugged, and Ricky was
toppling forward.

He landed hard against Jack‟s chest, but he didn‟t even

stay there for long enough to catch his breath. Jack didn‟t
waste any time rolling them both over and rearranging them
so Ricky lay face down on the bed with the larger man‟s
body covering his, pinning him down against the sheet.

A spike of panic shot through Ricky, but within a

fraction of a second, it was quickly replaced by the sheer
perfection of the other man‟s skin pressed against his own.
It didn‟t even occur to Ricky to resist as Jack tugged one of
his hands up toward the headboard. It was a complicated
metal structure and, Ricky realized as he stared at it, perfect
for bondage.

There was already a leather strap there, complete with

a pretty metal clip fastened to the free end. Within seconds,
Jack had it secured to the D-ring on Ricky‟s cuffs. Three
more clips were quickly put in place and soon all four of
Ricky‟s cuffs were holding him down, keeping him still
when he desperately wanted to squirm and wriggle in an
effort to shake off his quickly rising nerves.

Every tiny movement he managed to make had his

Call Me Sir, Boy!

cock rubbing against the blankets beneath him, adding to his
discomfort, rather than easing it.

“You‟re just going to make yourself frustrated if you

keep doing that,” Jack whispered in his ear as he leaned
over him.

“Yes, sir,” Ricky agreed, but he couldn‟t actually stop

his hips humping the bed.

“The only way you‟ll be allowed to come is if your

master decides he wants you to.”

“Yes, sir,” he repeated. The fact sent an extra shot of

arousal racing through him. It did sod all to make him stay
still. “Please, sir?” he offered.

“I‟ll give you one chance,” Jack whispered. “You can

come when I come, and only then. Not before, not after.
Understand?”

Ricky whimpered.
“You said you didn‟t want me to make things too easy

for you,” Jack reminded him.

“Yes, sir.” It had been a bloody stupid inclination to

admit to.

The dominant‟s shaft rubbed against his arse. Ricky

moaned and tried to push back against him, only to feel the
older man sway back out of his reach.

“My choice,” Jack whispered.
“Yes, sir.” And Ricky knew that there was no way in

hell he‟d get anything the other man didn‟t want to give
him, and even then, part of him loved knowing it.

Jack‟s cock rubbed against him again, tempting him,

teasing him, reminding him that every hint of pleasure was
the dominant‟s to give or deny. Each fact only made him
more desperate. His blood raced through his veins faster and
faster, a fever broke out across Ricky‟s skin.

“From now on, this is the way things will be. Me in

control and you hoping I‟ll let you come at some point.”

Kim Dare

“Yes, sir.” It sounded like a hell of a good way to live

his life to him.

When Jack pulled away, Ricky bit his lip and tried to

accept the older man‟s decision, half sure it had to be some
kind of test.

No, he realized, not a test, just a temporary evil. Jack‟s

well lubed fingers slid between his spread cheeks, and
stroked against his hole as he came back with supplies.

Ricky murmured his pleasure as his eyes dropped

closed. All his focus was on the dominant‟s touch, his entire
world rapidly condensed down to the way Jack‟s fingers
rubbed against his prostate as he slid them inside him.

Before a single minute had passed, Ricky was ready

for far more than the other man‟s fingers. He looked over
his shoulder.

“I‟ll decide when I want to screw you, and I‟ll decide

when you‟re ready to be screwed,” Jack informed him,
before Ricky had a chance to say a word.

Ricky dropped his head back onto the bed and did his

best not to lose his mind as the dominant worked his fingers
deep inside him again and again.

Finally, the sound of a tearing condom wrapper made

Ricky blink his eyes open. He tried to look over his
shoulder at his master. He couldn‟t see him properly, but
that ceased to matter when Jack pressed the tip of his cock
against Ricky‟s hole.

The latex was slicked with extra lube, but Ricky still

gasped as he was stretched open further by the dominant‟s
shaft. He pressed his face down against the mattress as
pleasure, and just a touch of discomfort, raced through him.

Jack stilled. His lips pressed against Ricky‟s neck in a

surprisingly tender kiss. “That‟s right, sweetheart. Just relax
for me. Relax for your master.”

Ricky murmured his willingness to do whatever the

other man wanted. Slowly, the discomfort faded away. The

Call Me Sir, Boy!

other man began to rock his hips moving inside him, setting
off a dozen different fireworks inside Ricky with every
movement.

The thrusts started gently, but there was still something

about them. From the first movement, each one seemed to
be determined to tell Ricky that Jack owned him, that he
belonged to the dominant now.

Ricky pulled at the restraints as he tried to move with

Jack‟s thrusting and compliment his every movement. At
the same time, he frantically tried to hold back, knowing
that he wasn‟t allowed to come yet. It hadn‟t been that long
since Jack came at the club and he seemed to be able to last
forever.

Finally, just when Ricky was starting to believe that

obeying his master‟s order wouldn‟t be difficult, but
completely impossible, he felt Jack‟s movements turn
jerkier as he reached the edge and threw himself over it.

Jack yelled out as he came. It wasn‟t a word. It wasn‟t

even a recognizable syllable, but it morphed into clear and
undeniable permission as it hit Ricky‟s ears.

He came while his master‟s shout still hung in the air.

Pleasure rushed through him almost faster than he was able
to process it. There was only one thing he was sure of—his
orgasm belonged to his master. As bliss radiated through his
body, he felt Jack‟s ownership of him spread through each
limb.

As they both fell still, Jack collapsed against Ricky‟s

back pinning him down once more. The older man stayed
there, leaving their bodies locked together as they both
gasped for breath and he slowly began to soften inside his
submissive.

“Perfect,” Jack whispered.
Ricky murmured his agreement. Perfect. That was the

only word for it. Nothing else was said, or needed to be
said, as Jack finally pulled away from him, dispensed with

Kim Dare

the condom and rearranged Ricky‟s bondage so his wrists
were fastened in front of him and he‟d be able to sleep
comfortably.

A second later, an arm looped over Ricky‟s shoulders,

pulling him close and letting him snuggle up against his
master‟s side.

Ricky tried to keep the words back and simply let them

both slip into silent sleep, but all at once it was impossible.
“I think Bret was right, sir,” he whispered.

“About us suiting each other?” Jack asked.
“Yes, sir. I know we only met tonight, but you don‟t

feel like a stranger, you feel…perfect?”

Jack didn‟t laugh. He just nodded as if he knew exactly

what he meant, maybe even as if he felt exactly the same
way. “The little brat‟s never going to let us live it down,” he
murmured.

Ricky smiled as he snuggled a little more comfortably

into his master‟s side.

“Still, I have a feeling you‟ll make it worth me putting

up with him,” Jack said. “Hell, I‟ll bet you‟ll make it worth
wearing that stupid bloody baseball cap!”

About the Author

Kim Dare is a twenty-seven year old full time writer

from Wales (UK). First published in December 2008, Kim
has since released over thirty BDSM erotic romances.

While the stories range over male/male, male/female

and all kinds of ménage relationships and have included
vampires, time travelers, shape-shifters and fairytale re-
tellings, they all have three things in common - kink, love
and a happy ending.

For more information on other books by Kim, visit her

official website:

www.KimDare.com

Also by This Author

Ryland's Sacrifice, Resplendence Publishing

Marrick's Promise, Resplendence Publishing

Ellery's Duty, Resplendence Publishing

Cameron's Pride, Resplendence Publishing

Handcuffs and Leather, Resplendence Publishing

Handcuffs and Glory Holes, Resplendence Publishing

Handcuffs and Headlocks, Resplendence Publishing

Handcuffs and Trouble, Resplendence Publishing

Duck!, Resplendence Publishing

You First, Total-e-bound Publishing

Silent Night, Total-e-bound Publishing

Time To Do, Total-e-bound Publishing

Three Minute Man, Total-e-bound Publishing

Bi Now, Gay Later, Total-e-bound Publishing

The Stroke of Twelve, Total-e-bound Publishing

The Mark of an Alpha, Total-e-bound Publishing

The Strength of a Gamma, Total-e-bound Publishing

Turquoise and Leather, Total-e-bound Publishing

Imperial Topaz, Total-e-bound Publishing

The Gift, Total-e-bound Publishing

Secret Service, Total-e-bound Publishing

In the Heat of the Moment, Total-e-bound Publishing

Blood Slave, Total-e-bound Publishing

Whispers, Total-e-bound Publishing

Between Tooth and Paw, Total-e-bound Publishing

Yes!, Total-e-bound Publishing

Elliot's War, Total-e-bound Publishing

Trust, Love, Submit, Total-e-bound Publishing

Gaydar, Total-e-bound Publishing

Gay Like You, Total-e-bound Publishing

Gay Until Graduation, Total-e-bound Publishing

Gay for Pay, Total-e-bound Publishing

Gay Divorcee, Total-e-bound Publishing

Gay Since Today, Total-e-bound Publishing

Gay Pride, Total-e-bound Publishing

Gay Man Seeks Same, Total-e-bound Publishing

Gay Friendly, Total-e-bound Publishing

Gay Best Friend, Total-e-bound Publishing

Gayday! Gayday!, Total-e-bound Publishing

Gay-ish, Total-e-bound Publishing

Document Outline

Call Me Sir, Boy!
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
About the Author
Also by This Author

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