Date: Fri, 18 Aug 2000 08:29:31 BST From: Jack Rowan Subject: The Story of Tol - part 8 THE STORY OF TOL - part 8 This story includes descriptions of sexual relations between adult men, and between an adult man and a 16/17-year-old teenager, including bondage and SM. If the law in your jurisdiction says that you're too young to be reading this, then I suggest very strongly that you should obey the law. There are more notes about the story at the start of part 1 and the end of part 9. The Story of Tol is copyright. Copy it for your own use if you wish, archive it if you wish, make it available through the web if you wish, but please credit it to Jack Rowan, don't change it, and include this copyright note. And don't publish it for profit, or charge for accessing it. Comments will be very gratefully received by Jack_Rowan@hotmail.com Most authors like to receive comments. It's the only way we know that anyone is even reading the stories, and it's all the payoff we get. ====================================================================== THE STORY OF TOL by Jack Rowan 8 Harvest Time --------------- 73 Tim and I were charging across the sloping curve of the meadow. It was like running across the inside of a huge soup-bowl, and I almost felt I was flying as I chased him. It was a cold day, overcast, with a damp chill in the air which hinted at snow. We laughed and shouted and hooted like school-kids, as David and Andrew watched us from the patio. A few cold-looking ducks were paddling across their lake, but otherwise the land seemed gripped in the stillness of winter, and the wood further up the slope was dark and ominous. I was faster than him, I was catching him up. I thought of tackling him rugby-style, but that could be too hard. I grabbed him by the waist and we rolled over onto the ground, him shrieking with laughter. I looked down at him, his face inches from mine. He was so beautiful it almost hurt, and I was amazed at how slight his body felt beneath me. He squirmed. It was incredibly arousing. "Kiss me, Tol," he whispered. I did. His lips and face were cold, light and feathery. "They want me to top you," I said. "Yes, I know. Don't be frightened, Tol. It'll be fun." I could see his eyes move back and forth, as he looked at each of mine. His hands were on my arms. It's what Andrew had said to me in the car. He hadn't told me where we were going until we were on the way. "What?! Sir, that's completely mad!" "You've got to start somewhere." "But - but he's David's slave!" "And? They wouldn't have agreed if it wasn't all right. He's one of the best there is. Even if you make a mistake, he'll handle it. Believe me. You're completely safe." "God. I'm absolutely terrified. What shall I do?" "Don't be. I honestly can't think of a better way to start. Just do something quite simple. It'll be fine. Trust me, Tol..." Tim was smiling up at me. He was bewitching, and the idea of doing something to him was turning me on, despite myself. "What's your safeword, blond child?" "Right question, big boy. For you it's - 'dark horse.' But - you'll have to catch me first!" He gave a sudden heave and was out and away. I gave him a few seconds, and took chase - he was running back towards the house now, and I flew across the bowl after him, grabbed him and rolled. He was under me again, grinning up at me, his body under mine from chest to legs. Suddenly I remembered something Andrew had said, and I dug my fingers, wriggling, into his sides. He screamed and his whole body convulsed. It was only with difficulty I could hold him, but I did, and tickled him again, and again he screamed. "Oh, god, Tol, that's hellish, you bastard!" he said, laughing, as I paused for a moment. I did it again, and he was in real pain, I could see it in his eyes, and I was overwhelmed by the rightness of what I was doing. He was in agony, I was holding him there, and it was right, right, the whole world was right. When I stopped again, I could see tears in his eyes, and suddenly I felt a moment arrive. I took it. "Are you my slave, child?" I said quietly. I touched, just touched, his sides, and before my eyes I saw him move into submission. It was so beautiful, so smooth and complete that I almost came. "Yes, sir," he whispered, and I saw amazement in his eyes. "Stand up." He did. I could feel the tension we had created, the bond, and it was so delicate I felt a breath of air would blow it away. I could shatter it with a single false movement. "Kiss my hands." He bowed, just slightly, to do it. "And now - my feet." Beautiful, exquisite movements. Everything he did had grace. He was kneeling, and then he bent, and I saw the blond head bow. When he had done it, I knelt beside him, lifted him up and kissed him. I smiled at him, and his face was solemn. He was going deeper, deeper, and I felt more assured. "What do you say, Tim?" "Thank you, sir..." "Come inside." I walked back with him, my arm on his shoulders. It was a long way, two or three hundred yards, longer than I felt comfortable with. Half way I stopped, and turned him towards me. I had my hand in his hair, grasping, holding a handful of fine white gold, and I bent his head up to me, and kissed him again. "Still with me?" "Oh, yes, sir." I led him back, and now I could feel it getting stronger with every step. I was controlling him, guiding his movements, and he was allowing it, quietly, sweetly. David and Andrew could see what had happened, and they stood away, saying nothing. I had no time for them, not for a glance, my concentration was entirely fixed on him. "Come." I led him inside, to the cross they had set up, and which had so scared me when we first arrived. Now it was like harbour after a long voyage. Once again I kissed him, this time firmly, devouringly. "You're my toy this evening, aren't you, child?" "Yes, sir, I'm your toy." "I'm going to hurt you, Tim. I'm going to really hurt you. You're going to scream and scream, and I'm going to enjoy that, Tim, I'm going to enjoy your pain. You want that, don't you? That's what you want, isn't it?" I gave him a little smile, but his face was still completely still and solemn. "Yes, sir," he whispered. "Hurt me. Hurt your toy..." "Then take your clothes off, Tim. Give me your body." I thought this would be another perilous moment, but it wasn't. I seemed to have said the right thing, because he was trembling as he obeyed, giving little high-pitched moans, and when he was naked, I saw he was completely hard. I held him again, whispering in his ear: "You're so beautiful, you're going to be so, so, good..." I faced him to the cross, and knowing it, he stretched out his arms and legs, and I fastened them. I held his head and kissed his ear. "Well done, Tim... So brave..." He looked at me and smiled. "Now make me hurt, sir... I need it." They had left a many-tailed scourge for me, quite light; it was as much as I wanted. I had been whipped myself more times than I could remember; I knew all the tools, all their effects, and Andrew had shown me how to use them. But this was a first time for me. I paused and centred down. Him. Him, it was about him. There he was, stretched out for me, just for me. His beauty was almost terrifying. I closed my eyes briefly, and thought of _Blood and Pain_. This was its time. I struck, and judged the strength by the sound, and his movement. Then I began to strike lighter, again and again, quite quickly, and I could see I was getting to him. I moved up and down his back, over his wonderful arse, and gradually he started to moan, louder and louder as I struck harder and harder. The joy I felt was indescribable. For the first time in my life, I felt that every single part of me, every nerve and thought and feeling, was engaged and thrilling, and this wonderful, beautiful person was surrendering to it, willing it, hungering for it, and everything was right. I was so aroused I felt I might come at any moment. I paused and went to him. "Okay?" "Oh god yes, sir..." I ran my hand across his chest, over his nipples, and he gave a loud groan. Then down, down to his dick, and he was still hard, and my hand was drenched with his precome. I stroked him a few times, and I could feel that he was far, far along, almost on the edge. "Oh, sir, sir, hit me again, sir, please..." I started again, harder now, and I could see, amazingly, that he would soon come. I was happy for it to be so quick, this time, and I struck several times, hard and fast. "Now, Tim! Now!" And then he screamed and came. I held him and kissed him as he shot, again and again. I unfastened him, and helped him lie on the sofa on his front. Then I knelt and held his head, and kissed him lightly. He smiled at me dreamily. Andrew's hand patted my shoulder. I held Tim gently for a long time, whispering to him how wonderful he had been, how proud I was to have done this. Finally he drew a long sigh and sat up. I sat beside him, and he leant against me. "Pre-e-tty good, Tol. That was pretty damn good. He was pretty good, folks. D'you know, I submitted? I was well under." "We saw," said David. "How did he do that?" "Same way you did." They all laughed. I was uneasy. A reaction was setting in, and I felt insecure, ungrounded. David noticed. "Come on, Tol. Let's go for little walk." Outside it was darker, and the chill air was completely still, waiting. He turned me to him, and kissed me gently, and I trembled in his arms, on the verge of tears. Then he looked in my eyes. His were brown, soft, and something told me that I was in the arms of possibly the kindest man I had ever met. He kissed me again, hard, and I felt his tongue. "Never doubt us," he said, as we walked hand in hand across the grass. "Nothing can damage what Tim and I have. No one could, and lots of people have tried. It's all okay, Tol." He stopped, and kissed me again. "Let me tell you something." I was still in his arms. "It's at least two years since Tim went into submission for anyone but me. When I saw you walking back, I could feel it - it was so - delicate. That was so good." "Thank you, sir." "No, thank YOU. That was something very lovely you did for us. Not grand and hard, but quiet and very good. For us, Tol, for both of us." "He's so beautiful." "Yeah, terrifying, isn't it?" We both laughed, and he hugged me. I walked back with him, reassured. Around us, the first few flakes of snow were falling, glinting in the light from the windows. "Sit here," said Tim, patting the sofa. I slid beside him, and he whispered in my ear. "You didn't come." "I - I didn't need to," I whispered back. "Next time I want you to fuck me." I could feel his breath in my ear, his lashes tickling me. Suddenly I wanted him, badly. "Remember!" he said out loud, wagging his finger at me. "I mean it! I won't be put off!" "Well, Tol?" Andrew yelled, as later we bounced down their drive through the snow. "Well?" "I topped someone! I really did. Hey! I topped TIM HAMLEY! How about that?" He stopped the car and hugged me. There were tears in his eyes. - 74 The next day it was still snowing; it was inches deep now. I was watching Alex stepping gingerly across the lawn when we learnt that Anthony had died. "I heard, sir," I said, as he turned from the phone. "Last night. It was quite quiet." There were tears in his eyes. "Oh, Tol, what will happen to us all now?" I hugged him, surprised at his reaction. "Did you know him well?" "No. I think very few people did. Maybe just David and Tim; people call them his watchdogs, you know. He had many, many associates, but few friends. There's Clement, of course, his slave, poor man. It - it'll be very dreadful for him." I sat with him on the sofa and held his hands as he wept. "He held everything together. Now - now I'm very afraid that for a bit there'll be chaos, Tol." "But surely, Master Paul..." "Oh yes, in the end, although it won't be the same. Nor should it be." He looked at me seriously. "Let me say this once, but it's just between us. Often, to get things started, you need a great person, you know, Tol. A visionary, a great leader. For a while it's necessary, and even after that, it's still good. But if it goes on, and on - then, when he disappears, there's a mess. This time, we don't need one man who does everything. We need to move on, and grow up." I stared at him, understanding what he said completely. "And - does Master Paul agree with that?" "Yes. He was my Master, did you know that? And David's. We know exactly the way he thinks." Politics welled up in me like a dark orchestral roar, hateful and intoxicating. "Master Paul," I said. "And his former slave, Andrew, his right-hand man. David, another former slave, and Tim, the 'incredibly dangerous' ones. Chris, their close friend, psychologist and mystic..." "And woman, and heterosexual. And others. Maxim, when he gets back: money, business and computers." "Derek and Gavin: hard players and academics." "Definitely them. More who you don't know. And... one other. I'm surprised you forgot." "Who?" "Tol," he said. "Tolgrund Burnley. Judge." I stared at him, utterly shocked. "Not at once, of course. But that's how it is." I was speechless. "Engage brain, please, Tol. Why is your room now full of books of law? Mandalas and law, that's what it's been for a fortnight. The natural law, the nature of justice, legal systems from Hammurabi up... Do you think that's all for fun? Of course not. We - need - you." "Even if there's anything in it, it's far too soon." "Maybe. But we're all starting, here. It's new for all of us. We have no alternative, you see, Tol. If it isn't us, it's Desmond. And he is - well, really just a thug. An ambitious thug, a thug with many followers, but still a thug. He will put himself forward as a strong man, a true successor to Anthony. But he isn't, because he's a fool, Tol, and that's dangerous." "Okay. Okay, okay. I'll - well, I still think you've totally overestimated me. But I'll do what I can, if you need me. I owe you all too much." He smiled. "The funeral's tomorrow. We'll have to go." "What, me too? I scarcely knew him." "It's important you're there. You won't have to do much, you'll be there as my slave. The trouble is, you're an issue in yourself. The horrible abuser, whom we have allowed to go free after Anthony condemned him, and only Desmond wanted to treat him with appropriate viciousness. We can't concede the point. You'll have to be there." "Oh lord. What fun it will be..." Later, that evening, he was listening to music. I went to my room and found the book I wanted, and took it back to read in front of the fire with Alex on my knee. "What's that?" I showed him: _The Ethics of the Way_, by Anthony Andiver, QC. It was already nearly fifty years old. "His book." He laughed. "I read some of it once. Hard going." I looked at him oddly. Since the New Year, I must have read it five times from cover to cover, and every day it was open on my desk. "Read me a bit. Let's hear the old boy again." I turned the pages, and started to read. "We have an obligation to care for ourselves; one might say, to police ourselves. It is an obligation set upon us both by society, and by our own interest. For if we do not of our own intention fulfil this obligation, society will have both the duty and the right to assert the wider legal and ethical framework, since it is in the nature of ordinary human transactions that events will transpire among us from time to time which society cannot, and should not, overlook. Perforce, it will not always deal with these events in a way which duly recognises the ethical foundations of our complex interleaving of consent and domination. On the other hand, this very complexity will sometimes throw up events which for us are so significant that they require immediate correction, yet which fall entirely beyond the legal articulations of society as a whole. Thus, if we surrender this obligation to the mechanisms which society provides, some of our actions will be condemned entirely inappropriately, while others, far more harmful, will escape all sanction. In short, society lacks the ethical standing to deal with our affairs. It is therefore both our right and our duty to take ourselves in hand." "D'you know," he said, "I understood every word of that. It must be the way you read it. He's right, isn't he? If we don't do it, no one will, and we and everyone else will be worse off." "Yes," I said. "I wonder if Desmond's ever read that." He laughed drily. "In your dreams. Come on, let's go to bed." On the front cover there was a version of _Just Revenge_, very old- fashioned, presumably by Anthony himself. I gazed at it for a long while, before following my Master upstairs. - 75 I was surprised that the funeral was in a church, but it was; a large, nineteenth-century pile in the North London suburbs. The streets around were packed with the parked cars of mourners, and we arrived as people were going in. Sad, damp trees bent over the piles of brown melting slush, and the churchyard was desolate, greasy anonymous stones slowly collapsing into a mess of brambles. It seemed a depressing place to end the life of such a man. We slid into a pew at the back of the congregation. I was glad to find that I recognised none of the people near us. I wanted this to be over, to do our duty and leave. The doors were opened, and in complete silence the coffin was brought in, undertakers carrying it, and following, a tall handsome elderly man, formally dressed in mourning. "That's Clement," said Andrew. "The Lady hold him." Then, to my surprise, came Paul and Desmond, walking side by saide, and after them two men, one of them unbelievably ancient. The coffin passed up the aisle, and then the priest started an entirely conventional funeral service, following the Book of Common Prayer. We sang two hymns: Crimond (how I hate Crimond!) and another. After that we followed the coffin to the grave. There wasn't much space; it was a place cleared from the slush, decaying leaves and brambles. Somehow, whether by chance or Andrew's design, we found ourselves at the graveside. I shrank behind him. Opposite us stood Paul, and beside him, Desmond, and I dreaded him spotting me. I noticed also David and Tim; they were looking down, arm in arm, and I noticed that Tim was crying. Beside them were Derek and Gavin, also holding each other, and then others I didn't know. The priest read the committal, and then, to my surprise, Clement spoke. His voice was clear and aristocratic. "Anthony was my Master and my lover, and the kindest, bravest and best man I ever knew. Rest now, love, at last, from all your labours." He turned to Paul. "Anthony was my friend," he said. "He gave of himself all his life, to keep us all in safety." "Anthony was our leader," said Desmond. "He fought the fight against abuse and viciousness. May his work never be destroyed." Next, to my surprise, it was Tim, not David, who spoke, and his voice was cracking. "Anthony was my captain. He was never afraid of the hard way, but always did what was right." "Anthony was my saviour," said Derek. "I owe him everything I am." It went round the grave, one by one, colleagues, friends, associates. We would be the last, and I was dreading it. A slight breeze was blowing, chilly and damp, and my feet were wet and cold with slush. I could see the coffin in the grave, so small, far smaller than I had expected. And now, finally, it was Andrew's turn. "Anthony was my teacher," he said. "Nothing I learnt from him has ever proved wrong." He pressed my arm, and, appalled, I realised he wanted me to speak. Suddenly, I felt tears well up. "Anthony was - my judge," I managed to blurt. "From him I learnt both justice and mercy. I shall never, ever forget him." I saw Clement look at me and nod slowly. People were moving from the grave now. Andrew took my arm, and we stumbled away. We followed the crowd through the dismal graveyard to another building, perhaps the church hall. The funeral had affected me more than I expected, and I longed to leave, to sort out my feelings. The hall was already crowded with people, and at least it was warm; I was chilled to the marrow. Suddenly my eye fell on an enormous version of _The Good Regard_, presiding over the occasion, and I was astonished. It was amazing, vibrant and scintillating with colour, a mixture of the old and new styles, warm, distinctive and hypnotising. "Incredible, isn't it?" said Chris's voice. "Chris! I didn't see you at the funeral." "I don't do churches, Tol. There are limits." I laughed. She was beginning to make me feel better. "Who did it?" said Andrew. "I've never seen anything like it." "Clement. I had no idea he did that. What a memorial! They must have had something rather special. I always thought of Anthony as rather a chilly old stick, I must say. Maybe I was wrong." "Poor man. I wonder what will happen to him now..." Suddenly, Desmond was in front of Andrew, spitting with rage. "Master Andrew! How dare you bring this... this criminal to such an occasion!" "Please, Master," said Andrew. "Don't disgrace yourself." "And to let him speak at the grave! Shame on you, Master! Shame!" "Master, this is unseemly." "And what have you got to say for yourself, Burnley, you unspeakable monster?" People were looking at us now, and I realised that Desmond had contrived this situation. I said nothing, but looked at Andrew. I was, after all, a slave. "You may speak, boy." I cursed him silently. "Where is Aron, sir?" "Away from your clutches! Safe!" "You are a friend of Master Vladek, are you not, sir?" "No, of course not. I scarcely know the man." "You went second, did you not, sir, when you were all taking me, against my Master's wishes? After Master Vladek, wasn't it?" "You deserved it, you nasty little bastard! You owed that boy your life. You're lucky to be alive, and if I had anything to do with it, you wouldn't be!" "Did you receive one of these - Christmas cards - from Master Vladek?" I showed him. I don't know why I had brought it, but I had. He went white. "I - I know nothing of this." "Let's hope not. Let's hope not, sir, because you're right, I do owe Aron my life. He saved it, twice. And if you have hurt him, I shall kill you." I was speaking in a low voice, but I had never in my life been so angry. I glared at him, and he blenched. "Tol," said Andrew, and his arm was on mine. "I'm - I'm sorry, Master." "You brought this animal here, Master; keep it under control," snapped Desmond, and turned away. "I'm sorry," I said again. Andrew smiled at me and winked. A bit later, they had gone to find Paul, and I was standing by myself. I was hoping we could leave soon, but I could feel it on all sides: politics. Against my will, it was pulling me. Perhaps that's why, when William sidled up to me, I held myself in. "Fancy meeting you, Burnley." "Good evening, sir," I said, without emotion. "Quite an occasion, wasn't it, back then? You weren't too - displeased, if I remember rightly." He leered at me, and I could feel the horrible wriggling wormy penis squirming its way into me. I managed not to shiver. Something was going on, and I wanted to know what. "It - was certainly very memorable, sir." I forced myself to smile. He giggled at me, a high, neighing sound, and my skin crawled. "Tell me, Burnley. What was he like, the Chernik boy? Was he good? I love it when a pretty boy is really frightened. And he's so pretty, isn't he? Those eyes." I wanted to kill him. But this was important, I could feel it. "He's very beautiful, sir." "Yes. Very. Do you miss him?" Oh god. Not an hour, not a minute went by... I tried always not to think of it, but, of course, it was true. I missed him, like a drowning man misses the air. "Of course. Always. Always..." "How about - and this is just a hypothetical question, of course - suppose we could give him to you. All trussed up, neat as you like, all yours, no questions asked. What would you say?" "Why should you do that, sir?" "Well. We might be - let's say - keen to invite you to play a part in the future of our, ah, community. To invite your help, in the event of certain disputes..." "To support Master's Desmond's - candidature?" I smiled. "Exactly." "Well," I said, "Let's say that's a very interesting - if hypothetical - question. I might be very interested in a proposition of that sort, very interested indeed." "Hm. I always thought there was something about you. Let's say that we have a potential understanding here, shall we?" "I think we might say that, yes, sir." We smiled, and he moved away. "I've just had an encounter with William," I said, when Andrew returned. "Oh, really? What did he say?" "Laugh," I said quietly. "We aren't saying anything important." We both laughed, and he put his hand on my arm. "I'll tell you later... Have you seen Derek?" "He left after the service. Come on, Tol, let's get the hell out of here. I've had enough." "Seconded." - 76 "So? What did creepy William want?" We were winding our way through the streets of North London. It was snowing again, big wet flakes, melting on the windscreen. I was thinking of a great roaring fire, and bed. "Creepy is it. I can still feel his disgusting dick in my guts. Ugh! He made me an offer. He didn't say so, but he was clearly speaking for Desmond. They would give me Aron, what was it? 'all trussed up, all yours, no questions asked.'" "In return - for what?" "That's the odd part. My support for Desmond. Andrew, it doesn't add up. Aron is an asset for them, but I - I'm nothing. It doesn't add up." "You aren't nothing, of course, but they don't know that. I think you're right. It must be a trick. What did you say? No?" "Hardly. 'A potential understanding' was how we left it. Let's see what they come up with." He laughed. "You can do this stuff, can't you?" "I hate it, sir." I looked out of the passsenger window at the snow streaming past. "The things he said about Aron - you have no idea. Unspeakable." "You still miss him. You're still suffering from him." "Oh Andrew." Tears were welling up. I was exhausted. "I try not to, god, I try. But yes." He patted my knee. "When I think what he may be going through at this moment... And it's my fault, sir. If it weren't for what I did, he wouldn't be there..." He stopped the car. "Tol. Look at me. You have already paid for what faults you committed. There is no longer any blame. Now. I'm going to ask you to centre down, and recognise that this is so, because you understand far better than me, these days, that what I have just said is right." I didn't have to think. The calculus was clear. "You're right. There is no longer any blame." "Then don't lacerate yourself. That's already been done." "There's no blame, but there's a responsibility to put right." He drove off. "Yes. That's what David said, and now I think I can understand it. I'm afraid - well, I don't see how that can be done. Maybe one day. But there are other things you can do. You can repay to the community as a whole. And you will. And another thing - do you think you would ever do something like that again?" "Oh god, I hope not." "I know you will not. You have changed, Tol, and that is a repayment as well. For what it's worth, let me tell you this. You know - we know - why you did what you did. And both know, don't we, Tol, that it wasn't all your fault. It wasn't entirely a matter of choice, was it? Not entirely." "True, but not entirely relevant." "Trust yourself, Tol. You need that now." He rested his hand on my knee again. "As for what's happening to Aron: we're fairly certain that he is not being physically abused. Desmond was not being honest with you. He knew very well what Vladek did, because when he got Aron, he had him looked after by a doctor. And we spoke to the doctor. That's how we know that Aron is okay. Do you think for a moment we would have left him there if he wasn't? But if we took him away now by force, Desmond would make hay of it. So he has to stay there, which we know is hard for him, but it's necessary. If Desmond wins, it'll be even harder, for him and everyone. I'm sorry, Tol." "Why didn't you say?" "Because it would have messed you up. We've been trying to avoid you thinking too much about Aron's situation. Behind the scenes we've been worried sick. But now you need to know, Tol, after what William said. In any case, soon everything will come to a head." "Why? What's happening?" "There'll be a big meeting to thrash it all out. Everyone who matters will be there. We can't go on like this, Tol, it must be sorted. And that'll be on February 4th. That's barely a fortnight away." "Huh." I laughed drily. "My birthday. I'll be twenty-four." "You'll be there. You'll be a - well, a major exhibit, I suppose." "That's what Anthony called me." "That was a long time ago, Tol." Not long enough. The thought of what was happening to Aron, and the guilt I couldn't get rid of were infesting me. I was a mess. We were on the motorway now, cars and lorries flashing past, the slush arcing out behind them in the dark. I drifted into a troubled sleep. I awoke when the car stopped. The wet snow was still falling, squishing beneath our feet as we walked to the house. He turned on a few lights, as I stirred the fire. "Sir, may I ask a favour?" "Yes, Tol. I think I know." "I need a whipping. Hard, and long. And I would like you to fuck me." "Come here." I went to him, and he hugged me. "I love you, slave. Do you really want this?" "Yes, sir." "Then strip." He started hard, as he knew I wanted, and got harder and harder. The pain was overwhelming, and then my submission took me. I grasped the pain like a life line, clinging to it frantically, and gradually the events of the day fell away, the news about Aron, the funeral, Desmond's anger and the slimey horror of the encounter with William. Deeper and deeper, and I screamed away my guilt, screamed and shrieked and sobbed as the dark, sticky feelings of regret drained away yet again. I could feel blood on my back and chest now, I could hear the groans of his effort, and finally I faded out. When I came to, I was already bound and in his bed, and he was holding me, kissing me. Without a word, he entered me in one fierce thrust, and he rode me hard. I wanted it. I loved the hard, ceaseless force of his movements, he seemed completely careless of my pleasure, and I felt myself pinioned, skewered by him, he seemed to be pounding his bright, straightforward spirit into me, his cool, ruthless compassion. He went on and on, and I was dissolving into him. It was the first day of a holiday, the start of spring, the opening chords of a great symphony, and joy took me. Then we both came. He untied me. As always when I slept handcuffed in his arms, I was at peace, and secure again. When we woke, the bedclothes and our bodies were spattered with my dried blood. It was, he said, one of the hardest whippings he had ever given. It was last I had from him. - 77 A few days later, Andrew said that we were to have a visitor. "His name's Simon. He's a policeman, actually, and a friend of mine, a slave, though at the moment he has no Master. We will top him, Tol, you and me together." "Oh god, sir, am I ready for that?" "Yes. I think so. Anyhow, time is short. We must give it a go. Don't be worried, he's very experienced, and I shall be with you all the way." "When's he coming?" I was suddenly very nervous. "This evening. Simon's a hard player. It'll be very difficult to go too far with him. I want you to use this to explore your feelings, Tol. Don't worry too much about him, let me do that. Find out about yourself, see if you can let yourself go a bit." We spent some time going through his workroom again, checking everything, reminding me where everything was. Then we prepared a light supper for the three of us. It was already dark when we heard his ring at the door. We both went to answer it. He was a thin man, about my height, with dark hair and eyes so dark that you couldn't see the pupils; it was quite startling. He had an easy smile, and I was immediately attracted. "Good evening, Master, sir." Only Tim so far had called 'sir' in that way, and Tim was different. I was surprised; it made my breath catch and a shiver run up my spine. I was starting to enjoy myself. He excused himself and went to the bathroom. "Okay, Tol?" "I'm hard." He laughed. "I'm surprised at myself, sir. I'm - I'm really getting into this." He rubbed my hair and kissed me. "One thing - only I shall fuck him. He doesn't like it much, and from you I think it would be an imposition. That okay?" "Of course. Actually - I haven't done that for a long time, and, well, I don't think this is the occasion." "Good thought, Tol. You can get him to suck you, though." "Yes, please! Mm. He's very attractive." He laughed at me. "Yes, I've always thought so." We led him upstairs, but as soon as we got into the room, Andrew moved to the back. He was leaving it to me to lead. I took a deep breath and thought briefly of _Blood and Pain_. I stepped up to him, held him in my arms and kissed him. I felt a stiffness, a reluctance, and withdrew a little, looking in his eyes firmly, feeling him unsure. I grabbed his hair, moved his head to face me. "Open to me, slave." I kissed him again. This time he softened, and his mouth opened. I felt him give, I felt him become mine in my arms, and I realised how experienced and courageous he was. "Take your clothes off." I kissed him again. He was delicious, and I could feel his dick rising between us. "Tell me your safeword, slave." "'Skylark', sir." I bound him back to the cross, and whispered in his ear. "Okay?" "Completely, sir, thank you, sir." Working slowly I put heavy clamps on his nipples. He sighed, but seemed okay, so I added weights, and then more weights. Then I put a strap round his balls, and hung weights from them as well. Remembering Gavin's game, I added more, till he was groaning slightly. "All comfortable?" I jacked his dick gently. "Yes, sir." I started to strap him, gently at first, then harder and harder; then I strapped his nipples as well, and as the weights danced, I heard the first sound of pain. I was amazed at my reaction. Power and strength surged into me, and almost at once I was on the verge of coming. "Strap his balls," said Andrew. "I want to hear him sing." I hadn't dared, but now reassured, I struck him, first gently and then harder and harder, and he started to scream. I was in trouble now; my feelings were overwhelming me, I was close, very close. I felt Andrew's arm on my shoulder, and he whispered in my ear. "Get him to suck you off." I untied him, and he collapsed to his knees. I cuffed him, and he knelt, his forehead on the floor, sobbing, but I was onto him, giving him no rest. I pulled his head up by his hair and pushed his face to my groin. "Get it out." He did it with his mouth, expertly. "Suck me, boy. Make it good." I felt a reluctance in him; he was still sobbing, and I pressed him. "Just do it, punk, or I'll do something you really won't like at all!" I felt like a fool delivering this line, but it worked. He sank me in one movement, right into his throat. I ran my fingers through his hair. "That's good, boy..." He worked me firmly, vigorously, and before long I was thrusting into him hard, gripping his head. Then I came, deep in his throat, spurting right down into him. I pulled out a bit and shot again. I wanted him to taste me, to feel me. The power, the control... I was in ecstasy. I had yearned for this, I had dreamt it all my life, but it was beyond anything I had imagined. He slumped back on his heels, and I put myself away. "Thank me." His eyes were strained, unfocused, and he was weeping. "Thank you, sir, for letting me take your come." "Let him have something to drink," whispered Andrew in my ear. "Hogtie him and give him a cuddle. Then let him rest for five minutes." I got a beer and held it to his lips, and he drank gratefully. Then, as Andrew said, I cuffed his ankles and tied them loosely to his wrists, and lay him on his side. I lay down in front of him, and kissed him gently, my arm over him. "Well done, boy," I said. "You've been very good." He gave me a small smile. "Thank you, sir." Andrew drew me out of the room. "I should have told you," he said. "Simon really loathes the taste of come. Something in his past." "Oh, I'm sorry, sir." "No. My mistake. It doesn't matter, it's time he got over it. Try some arse play, next. Then - then I want you cane him, Tol." "Oh, sir..." "That's an order, Tol. Just do it, okay? After that, it's my turn. I shall whip him, and then fuck him. This is a heavy bottom, Tol. Don't hold back." I looked at him, full of conflicting feelings. But as soon as we were back, I got into it. I felt at home, elevated, almost drunk. I undid his ankles, and pulled him onto his kness. "Lick my boots, boy!" He did it, and I strapped his back. I knew this, I had done this. "Lick, boy! Forget the strap! Concentrate!" Andrew looked at me in amazement as I whaled Simon's back and shouted at him. I lifted him up and kissed him, and I could feel him give himself again. It was utterly intoxicating. My arm round his shoulders, I led him to the cross, and tied him facing it. I ran my hands all over his back. He was thin, but muscular, and he felt good to me stretched out under my touch. I greased his arsehole slowly, putting two, and then three fingers into him, and I let my dick rest in his arse crack, moved it up and down, terrorising him, and drew back. His face was unreadable, blank and distant. The steel balls were heavy in my hands. They were connected by a strap, and together must have weighed several pounds. Slowly I worked them into him, one by one. He groaned with each one, and by the end he was sweating and trembling. Carefully I untied him, and led him on a short walk round the room, letting him feel them. By the end I was having almost to carry him, he was so weak. I tied him with his back to the cross, and he was weeping now. Then I knelt and took his dick in my mouth. He was completely soft, and hardened inside me, gradually filling me, a feeling I love. I worked him gently, relentlessly, and he began to buck into me, I could sense his orgasm rising, and as it began, I pulled the balls out of him, one by one, and he screamed his agony and release, flailing in his bonds. He had collapsed, exhausted. I came to him, lifted his head and moved towards him to kiss him. He could see my open mouth, full of his come, and there was horror in his eyes. I turned aside and kissed his ear. "Trust me," I whispered. He started to weep again, and I held him for a long while. "Now," said Andrew, and I knew I couldn't get out of this. I untied Simon and led him to the table, bent him over and tied him again. Then I got the cane. It wasn't as long or as thick as the one which Derek had used, and I had practised with it, at Andrew's insistence, but I hated it. I held Simon head and spoke softly to him. "Now I'm going to cane you. Are you okay?" "Yes, sir, thank you." "Ten strokes," said Andrew. "Count then, boy." I took my place and raised the cane, feeling sick. Then I struck him. The dreadful, familiar sound came to me, and his sigh. "One, sir." "Harder," said Andrew. "Much harder." I struck again, harder, and I could see the red stripe across both cheeks. I hated myself. "Two, sir." "Still not hard enough. Give it all your strength. That is an order, Tol!" I did it. I could see blood come. He screamed, and at that moment something changed in me. Simon was in agony now, and I wanted it. I wanted his pain, I lusted for it. The old desire awoke in me, and it consumed me utterly, sweeping away my doubts. "Three, sir!" The remaining strokes were a flaming cascade of joy. It was beyond sex, beyond lust, out into the realms of festival and epochal celebration, shrieking, rejoicing crowds and street revolutions. I was completed. "How about another five?" whispered Andrew. "He's strong." I looked at Simon. I wanted more, I yearned for more, I was dying from the thirst for more, I felt that a mighty revelation would be in my grasp, if only we could continue. The cane hung in my hand, ready to leap at him, Andrew stood smiling, encouraging. But it was impossible. His arse was bleeding, he was exhausted, trembling, his face white, on the edge of shock. He had definitely had enough. I put the cane down and held him, swallowed and gripped myself. "You did well, boy. Very well." I kissed his ear and his neck, and untied him. I gave him some apple juice, and held him for a long time, and gradually he stopped trembling. Andrew patted my shoulder. I looked quizzically at him. Would he really now embark on a whipping? He answered me with a shake of the head. We took Simon downstairs, and we all three sat in front of the fire silently, holding each other. In the warm flickering glow we came down together. "So," said Simon, finally, looking at me. "This is the terrible abuser, Tol Burnley." I hugged him. "That's me." "Well, sonny jim, you can do that to me any time. Any time at all. Even if you don't bring your Master to whisper encitements in your ear when I'm half dead. Don't think I didn't hear." "I - I suppose it was some kind of test when he said that." "The whole thing was some kind of test. Didn't you know?" "No. He didn't say." I looked daggers at Andrew, and he laughed. "Well, it was. Now I have to trot off to Master Paul and tell him if you're safe to be let out on the streets." "And am I?" "Oh, yes. Anyone who could stop at a moment like that is okay. Mind you, you didn't feel safe." I looked at him, dismayed, and he laughed. "It's okay! That hint of danger - I like it. There's something rather deliciously cruel about you, Tol Burnley, and it got to me." "Thanks. I think." They both laughed. Andrew sent me upstairs to get Simon's clothes, and after he'd dressed we had supper. It was a pleasant and relaxed evening, and I found myself liking Simon more and more. "Look me up," he said by the door. "I mean it. I want some more of that. You too, Andrew, I haven't seen enough of you lately." He kissed me gently, and left. "I'm so proud of you," said Andrew, holding me. "So, so proud." - 78 "So, that was a test?" I said, over breakfast. We had spent the rest of the evening in Andrew's bed, fucking. Both of us were desperate for sex, and we had no time to discuss what had happened. He had entered me fiercely, and rode me for a long time,and I came twice when he was in me. After, we had fallen asleep at once, exhausted. "Well, yes. I think you've made a good friend in Detective Chief Inspector Simon. And quite an important one, too." "Didn't you trust me, then?" "Of course I did. But it wasn't me you had to convince, or even Paul. We needed an independent opinion." "I guess so. You're my Master, after all." He paused. "Yes, I am. But not for much longer, cute one." I stared at him. That dreadful feeling, when someone you love is about to dump you, that feeling of the world crumbling around you, came to me again. "No, sir. Oh no, Andrew. Please, no..." "Tol, Tol, listen to me. I'm not deserting you. You'll always have me to call on, as you have Derek, and David, and Chris and even Alan. These are connections which can never be broken. But soon it'll be time for you to move on, time for you to go back into the world and take up your life again. You're a free man. You've paid your price, and you're a free and equal member of our community, with an important role of your own to play." "But - but I don't want anything, but to be your slave!" "Wrong. You're a dominant, Tol. We knew that already, and you saw it yesterday again. If I didn't allow that to come out, in the end there would be trouble." "But I get all my support from you. I get catharsis from you, that's how I've got rid of all that painful stuff. How can I manage without all that?" "You'll manage as a Master does. You'll get your support from your slave. When he is weak, you hold him up. And when you are weak, you lean on him. That's how it works." I stared at him. I had never seen it like this. "As for emotional catharsis. Well, what was it like yesterday? How did you feel? Was it good?" "It was amazing. I had never felt anything like it before. Suddenly - it was everything I'd been wanting all my life without realising it." "Yes. That's the way of the Master. And it's your natural way, the way you work, Tol. That's how you'll get it in the future. From your slave. You'll get it from your slave, Tol. As I do. As I have from you. You don't think that this has been a one-way thing, do you? I'll miss you too, Tol. And I hope you do call on me for help, especially at the beginning, because - I don't want to lose you. Not completely." We looked at each other, and then we hugged. We were both crying. "I'll tell you what we've done," he said, after a while. "I'm not dumping out on the street. We've rented a small cottage for you, not far from here. You can stay there for a few months, as you feel your way back into things. And after that - well, it's up to you." "You've already rented a place?" "Yup. Want to come and see it?" "Yeah! Why not?" "It really isn't far," he said as we set out. "I think you'll like it. It's small, but very nice." We were being jolly, rather too jolly, but we were doing our best. He drove us to a cottage about fifteen minutes' walk from the centre of a nearby village, maybe ten miles from his house. It was lovely; a nineteenth-century brick building in one storey, with a small garden full of roses. He let me in. There was a large sitting room with a kitchen off and windows over the garden to the front, two bedrooms and a bathroom. All the rooms had been furnished simply but sufficiently; the larger bedroom had a double bed. On the wall of the sitting room was a beautiful version of _The Good Regard_, and I recognised Chris's style. There was a telephone, I noticed, and open fires. I loved it at once. It fitted my daydreams: I could see myself living here, tending the garden, working at my books and walking into the village for a pint, as gradually I worked out what to do next. "David, Tim, Chris, me - we've all helped to set it up," he said. "We had it decorated, got in some furniture..." "All those people helped? But why?" "We - we love you, Tol, you clot. We want this to work. And as I said before, we need you." I felt tears coming again. "Thank you, sir. Thank you - very much." "You haven't seen the best bit yet. Come on." A door at the back of the kitchen led to another room, low and with no windows, presumably originally a scullery. And there they had set up a small dungeon; a cross, a table with fixtures, a number of tools on the walls. There was even a tiled area, with a shower. "My god, sir, all this? All this for me?" "Yes. You'll need it, Tol. Don't be a hermit here. It's time to be up and doing. Don't you feel it?" I did. I could feel things ticking, the mechanisms of life. I thought of _The Endless March_, of the turning of the seasons, life moving on, and death. It was time to start taking part again. "Yes, Andrew. I do." I turned to him, and we kissed. - 79 "I'd like you to stay with me till the meeting. After that you should go to the cottage." We were on the way back now. "My birthday. Well, I suppose that's a good day to start." "I'm having your car brought round; it's been garaged. You can go over there whenever you want and sort things out as you wish." Everything was coming back to me, bit by bit. I liked it, and I didn't. I didn't like the idea of owning a BMW, for some reason; it would have to go. "We'll have a visitor this afternoon," he said as we ate lunch. "Who?" "Not sure you want to hear this. It's Maxim." "Shit." I stared at thim. "It had to happen sometime. You just have to get over these hurdles, Tol. They aren't going to disappear." "Yeah, I know. What the hell am I going to say to him?" "Don't know. But this was his idea. I suppose he's got things to say too. He's not well, Tol. Give him a break." "I haven't anything to offer him except a promise that I've changed. If he can't accept that, I've shot my bolt. It could be really awful." "Wait and see." So I waited, completely at a loss. The fact was, Maxim had been my boss, and I honestly and genuinely had respected and admired him, one of the few positive emotions which had managed to penetrate my shell at the time. And he was Aron's brother, the man who had literally pointed a gun at me and cocked it, ready to shoot. Even if it was impossible, I wanted his friendship. He was smaller, was my first thought, reduced, shrunken. He stood in the doorway, looking at me, and I felt sorry for him. "Tol." "Maxim, I..." Then somehow we were in each others' arms. I could feel his sobs, and my own eyes were full of tears. "It's been a long time," he said finally, holding me at arm's length. "We've both been through it, haven't we?" "Nothing has ever beaten you, Maxim." "Maxim the strong, Maxim the competent, Maxim the controller and organiser. I've heard it all, Tol." "Come in and get warm. It's a cold day." "Thanks. Andrew, old friend." They hugged. Maxim and his driver came through with us to the sitting room. The fire was lit, and Alex was asleep on the rug. Maxim smiled. "I miss this sort of thing. That pile I live in - it's vast. Perhaps I should get rid of it. What do you think, Jan?" The driver was kneeling, making up the fire. He was good at it. "It's certainly very hard to keep the house warm, sir. And it can seem a little empty." "Are you in touch with Desmond, Andrew? Do you know what's happening to Aron?" "We think he's okay. We can't intervene at the moment, but we haven't forgotten him. We hope we can get it sorted out at the meeting next month. Desmond has - well, made some approaches to Tol." "Has he? Don't trust him, Tol. Please. Be very careful." "Don't worry. I know he's trying something and I don't trust him an inch." "He pretended to be my friend. Then he gave Aron to that swine. I'll never forgive him." Andrew took his hand. "Tol and I need to talk," said Maxim. "Why don't you go to his room?" said Andrew. "I'll bring you a coffee, if you like. Or a drink." "No, thanks, I'm drugged to the eyeballs. Jan, stay here with Andrew, would you?" he said to his driver, who was eying me guardedly. "Yes, sir." We went to my office. He was walking slowly and I suppressed an urge to support him. He lowered himself carefully into a chair. "Depression, that's what they call it, Tol. Complete weariness with everything, that's what it feels like. I seem to have lost everything that's important to me. Colin, Anya. I couldn't handle the company. Finally, they took Aron away..." He started to weep gently, and I thought that he seemed old, old and tired, as if the world had been too much for him. "They gave Aron to that bastard Vladek! My Aron, my darling boy, they came and got him. He was so dignified, he just kissed me and left with them, with Desmond and his cronies... I always knew he was a swine, even before it came out about that village in the mountains, what was it..." "Why did you let him get close to Aron, then?" He sighed. "I wanted him to have a chance to get over it all, to get over you, Tol. He's a kid, he's entitled to some fun, and I thought I could control Vladek. I have contacts back home, and I told Vladek I'd have his guts if he stepped out of line. He can be very charming, you know; very courtly, he's an educated man, he speaks beautiful Slovian and I think Aron was charmed, at least for a while. And I think - Tol, I think he wanted to show himself that he didn't need you, he could get over you. He - he hated you, Tol." My guts churned, but I held myself in check. He didn't need my bitterness and regrets. "He's with Desmond now. Surely that's better." "I suppose so. When Vladek went back to Slovia I was ecstatic. That was so utterly right." "David and Tim did that." "Did they? Good. They redeemed our honour. Does that make sense? Or is that more of the 'Balkan savagery' the papers go on about?" "No. You're right." He picked over some of the books on my desk. "You've been working hard, Tol. 'The Mandalas of the Time Sequence' - '_Fierce Endurance_ and the Ethics of Submission' - 'The Roman Law of Slavery and Manumission'. Colin knew all this stuff." "I never understood Colin. It's a shame. I think he could have helped me a lot." "They say you're good at it. That you understand the rights and wrongs of things. Tell me, Tol. Did we do right with you? Honestly, do you think so?" "If you personally had killed me in hot blood that horrible night, you could not have been faulted. That's clear. If I had been executed later, that would have been unnecessary and unjustified. What you did do, however, was right." "You've thought about this." "Oh yes, Maxim, believe it. What I've just said I've debated endlessly - with that." I gestured at _Just Revenge_. "Thank you. When I came to see you that time, I was genuinely shocked. It seemed - excessive, without compassion." "You're a good man, Maxim, and a kind one. I mistook you, because I never realised that. But - well, compassion does not always mean being soft. And justice - justice is not always pretty. What happened was just, and I'm happy with that." "Then - let me say this - so far as you wronged me, I forgive you, Tol." My eyes were damp. "Thank you, Maxim. That means a lot." "What are you going to do now?" "I'm not sure. Take stock. I think - I think I might go back to university. Study law." "I need your help, Tol. I can't cope with the company just now. It'll be six months at least before I can get back to it. Dennis is holding the fort, but he hasn't got what it takes and without me, Colin and you, things are just idling. Would you consider taking it on for a while?" I stared at him, amazed. "I - I'd have to think. I'm not really the person I was, you know. I'm not really the arsehole you hired any more. I'm not sure how I'd make out." "Think about it. Please, Tol. I need you. The company - and that's lots of people's jobs - they need you." "I need some time. Maxim - you've given me a lot to think about today." There was something else in the back of my mind, but I couldn't pin it down. I let it pass. "Let me know." He kissed me as he left, and even Jan shook my hand. I was deeply happy with the meeting. "D'you know," I said to Andrew, "He offered me a job! CEO of the company!" He started to laugh, and I joined in. "Poor old Tol! Shithouse to boardroom in three easy stages!" - 80 A few days later, the phone at my cottage rang. I answered, and it was William. "Burnley. Glad to find you in. Are you enjoying your - gilded cage?" I laughed shortly. "That's one way to look at it, I suppose." But it wasn't. In just a few days this place had become mine, and I loved it. I had moved the furniture to suit myself; at the moment I was sitting at the desk, looking out of an open window beside me, as the rain fell gently in the garden, and a book was open in front of me. I hated his intrusion here; he seemed to besmirch it with his presence. "We think we should, perhaps, meet and discuss a few things." "Yes, I agree." "Shall we come round there?" "Inadvisable. There could be visitors at any time." In fact, the thought of them there was insupportable. "I understand. In that case, let me tell you where to go..." He gave me the directions, and I noted them down. "That will take me two hours or so." "Shall we say around four o'clock, then?" "Okay." He rang off. I rang Andrew. "They've rung. They want me to go and see them." "I suppose you'd better go. Where?" I told him. "If I'm not back with you by eight, assume they nabbed me." "Tol, for god's sake be careful. Some of them are - frightful people. We're getting more of an idea who they are, and it isn't pretty." "If there's any chance of helping Aron, I have to do it. You understand, don't you?" "They could kill you, Tol. I must be honest with you." "Better me than him." "Isn't that - a bit histrionic?" "Nope. It's calculus. Restitution, Andrew. To put it another way, I owe him. When I say better me than him, I mean just that. Better." "It can be pretty cold, your stuff, can't it?" "You drew me that mandala. Don't tell me you don't understand." He sighed. "Of course I do, love. But be careful. I don't want to lose you." "I'll be back. It's just a chat." The drive was long and tiresome, and led me to a suburban house in the northern outskirts of London, a house like hundreds of others in the area. The door was opened by William. He led me into a room set out with a large table, around which, to my surprise, no fewer than ten men were seated. I realised then that I was dealing with a coalition, no one daring to be left out of anything, no matter how trivial. Apart from William I recognised only Robert. Most of the others have blurred in my mind. "I see that Master Desmond is not here," I said. "Forgive me, but how do I know that you speak for him?" "Reasonable," said William. "I shall ring him for you." He did, and I found myself speaking to him. "Burnley? William and the others have my confidence. I will honour any agreement they make." "There are - a number of people here, Master. I think it might be best if I rang you again after our discussions." He gave a humourless laugh. "Yes, perhaps you're right. Okay, I agree." He rang off. "All happy then?" said William. He lit a cigarette, and continued to chain-smoke throughout, rolling them between his fingers in a way which both sensuous and disgusting. "Right," he went on. "Tol - you don't mind if we call you Tol? Tol - we are here to make you a proposition. It's based in the view we have of the future of our - ah - organisation, following the lamented death of our great leader, and our assessment of you as a person. Let me explain..." "Oh, stuff it, William," said someone. "Anthony was a pain in the butt. All the hypocritical nonsense that's around today comes from him..." "'The ethics of submission'. Spare me," said another. "Love your slave." "'Safe, sane and consensual'. Fucking Women's Institute shite." "Hands off the tiny frightened kiddies..." "Psychologists and sodding women." "And bloody, bloody tedious mandalas." "As you can see," said William, "Something of a vote of no confidence. A vote of confidence, however, I think you will find, in some of the old ways." He leaned towards me. "Slavery. Real slavery. Real domination. Real pain. Real control. Kids appreciated in the real old way, by force and in obedience." He leant back. I felt like vomiting. "Force, dominion, obedience, pain. Just what you had in mind for that cute, but repellantly stuck-up little baggage, Aron." He looked at me with a smile, and I attempted a smile back. Hearing all this again, hearing all the things I had thought and felt, brought out again and spoken aloud, approved, cheered, was enormously disturbing. "What you did to him," said Robert, "That was fine. But you were stupid, son. You can't do it like that. Not any more. We have to work together. Back each other up. That's what we want. That's what the organisation should be for, to protect our own. It's all hypocrisy! 'No killings' - but they've killed. 'Consensual' - but what they did to you wasn't, was it? Was it hell." "You're right," I said. I needed some credentials, and I steeled myself to do what had to be done. "Consensual it wasn't. Bloody months of torment, that's what it was. Ask William. He knows. And just because I wanted what we all want, and decided to get it." The discussion, if you could call it that, went on for some time, but no one seemed to contribute anything constructive. It was just an upwelling of conscienceless, almost mindless, brutality, cruelty and viciousness. I was appalled; I would classify almost all of them round that table as psychopathic. William said nothing, but sat smoking and looking at his fingernails, occasionally shooting a stare at someone. As for me, I was having a curious experience. As they went on and on, I felt myself going back, back to Andrew, to David and Tim, to Derek and Gavin and Alan and Chris, and feeling more and more strongly how much I loved them, how much I owed them, how lovely and desirable were the simple values they followed. I thought of _The Good Regard_, and I thought with more and more admiration of Anthony, and how he had held this growling mob at bay for so long. "Yes, well," said William, finally. "All very sensible, no doubt. But let us get to the nub. The thing is, Tol, we have something you want. Something you will take risks to get. Aron. And you can be sure, provided of course, that our group prevails, that you would have the opportunity to - enjoy him - without restraint, in any way that you wish. With our protection." "Obviously, I can't deny that I want that. However, sir, clearly you'll want something in exchange. May we move to that? Forgive me, but my time is fairly short; I shall need to get back to avoid suspicion. What do you want from me?" "Well now, Tol. Up to now we have been fairly frank with you, but frankness is not always appropriate, is it? No. The opinions we have expressed - must for the present remain within these four walls." He looked round the table fairly pointedly. I thought he was asking for the moon with this lot. "Gentlemen, as far as the - ah - generality of our group are concerned, we are the party of continuity. Of goodness. We are the party which wishes to control abuse with an iron hand, are we not? Yes. Unfortunately, Master Paul and his associates are hypocrites. They talk about controlling abuse, but they do not. They talk nonsense about redemption. In particular, they claim to have redeemed Tolgrund Burnley, the vile abuser of innocent young Chernik. Well, and as we see this is in fact the truth, they have not. They are letting him free, because of his connections. "So, Tol, what we need from you at the meeting on the fourth is a convincing demonstration of what you're really like. We're not quite sure how to play it yet, but the occasion will arise. Go with it, and you'll take Aron away with you, off to a lifetime of agony, whether long or short, it's up to you. I'm sure you have some - creative ideas waiting for him; you've had a long, long time to think about it. If you don't, however, there's a sanction, of course. If you don't - well, I'll take Aron myself." He smiled at me. "And that, I suspect, you would not like at all." At that point, the churning revulsion I was feeling almost overcame me, and I was on the edge of flying at him. He blow smoke in my face. "Well? What do you think?" I paused. Then I gave him a thin smile. "I'll do what you say. It'll even be a pleasure to wipe a few smiles off a few faces. But - I want Aron intact and unharmed. I want to - start from scratch." I smiled at him. "I think you can understand." "Unharmed. Well, unharmed since they got Vladek. He's - recovered, although - well, you understand, he's perhaps not quite as cheeky and cheery as he was." He waved a hand. "Can't be helped, I'm afraid. Is that satisfactory?" "Yes. You have a deal, gentlemen." "Excellent. Now, you will want to speak with Desmond, no doubt." I spoke to him, and he confirmed the deal. I just wanted out. I couldn't let myself think or feel until I was away. "Good," said William. "Doubtless you need to return to Andrew." He walked me to my car. "They're - somewhat rough and ready, I'm sure you're thinking. For the present we have to accomodate them, but afterwards - well, Tol, we shall see. May I regard you as a friend?" "Certainly. I think we understand each other well." "Good. Then - I shall see you on the fourth." We shook hands, and I left. A few miles down the road I stopped the car, got out, and standing in the drizzle by the side of the road, I vomited, my guts heaving until they were dry. "Oh god, sir, just hold me!" I cried, as I stepped through Andrew's front door. He swept me into his arms, and I sobbed for a long time. "Sir, it was unspeakable. They were - oh, god, the scum of the earth doesn't begin to describe it." He huddled me inside and sat my by the fire, and gradually some sense of my Master's strength and calm were beginning to enter me. I described what they had said and the deal we had made. "Yes," he said, "I know those people. I could probably name most of them. Those are the people that Anthony fought all his life. I'm glad you met them, because they're the other half of the equation. That's what it's all for, Tol." "I could have been there. That could have been me, Andrew, that's what makes my flesh creep." "Or me. Or anyone." "They have Aron. If I don't do what they want - they'll give him to William. Just think what that means, Andrew! Oh, what are we to do?" He held my hand, and looked at me. "Come with me." He led me into my room, and together we stood and gazed into _Just Revenge_. It took a while, but gradually I could feel it. Justice. Simplicity. Love. Compassion. They sank back into me, meshed with me, and I wondered how I had ever let them be disturbed. Andrew gave a long sigh. "And now. What can you do?" "I - I can't do what they want. It's no use. We'll have to find another way to help Aron." "And we will. I'll tell you one thing. I'm much less worried now. Those brutes are the pits, Tol, they're absolutely valueless, a bunch of psychopathic wasters. They're no threat at all. The only ones who are worth a damn are Desmond and William. If we keep our wits about us, we'll clean them up on the fourth, no problem." That night, I slept with him. I spent the next day thinking through _The Good Regard_, and gradually my calm returned. - 81 Then it was February 2nd. Two days to go, and Andrew spoke to me at breakfast. "We've got something planned for you today. We want you to do another scene with Tim." My heart leapt. "It'll be a bit different this time. It'll be just you and him. I won't be there, and neither will David. He'll ring this morning about the arrangements." "Is this another test?" "Um. I suppose it is, in a way. But talk to David first." He rang a few minutes later. "Tol, I'll be away when you come over. It'll be just you and him." "I'm - honoured." "Wait till you hear the rest of it. I want you to do a special thing with him. I want you to use needles. He's never done that before. He hates the idea." "What? But sir! Why don't you do it?" "Because I hate them too. I know they're quite safe, there's nothing about the theory, but I just hate 'em, Tol, even at the doctor's I'm a total coward." "Didn't you pierce his ear?" "How the hell did you know that? Well, never mind. Somehow that's different... I know you've been practising this with Andrew and you've got no problems. So I'd like you to do this for us, Tol." "What does Tim say?" "He doesn't know." "Sir!" "He's my slave, Tol. Yes, he's one of the great ones of our community. Yes, many people rely on him for many things. Yes, he's my lover and my partner and we rely on each other in so many ways, more than you can imagine. I love and respect him beyond anything. But he is my slave. You've studied these things; you'll understand." I did, and it made my heart stop, it was so beautiful. "You'll be pushing a major limit, Tol. You'll have to be incredibly careful. Give him a slowword; he'll probably use it, but keep pressing. He is very brave, and he'll want to please you and give you a good scene. But be careful." "I - I understand." "He can handle this now. He's nineteen, he's not a child. Get him to show you round our dungeon; do it there, he feels safe there. Start with something easy, a light whipping, say. Then do it. I've left a whole lot of needles for you in the drawer marked CLAMPS." "Thank you, sir. May I talk about this to Andrew?" "You don't have to ask, Tol. He's your Master." "Yes, sir." "I'll give you some advice, although I don't think you need it. Don't use a heavily dominant style. Try to work with him. He likes you, Tol. Get him on your side." "Yes, sir." "Come over about seven. Have a spot of supper and then do it. I'll be back around midnight." "Yes, sir. And thanks for your trust." "Have fun, Tol. Do good work." He rang off. "O-o-oh shit," I said. Andrew laughed at me. "You get to push a limit with Tim Hamley, and all you can say is 'oh shit'? There are hundreds of people who'd give an arm for a chance like that." "Then why not pick one of them? Almost anyone is more experienced than me." "Why? Because Tim likes you, and works well with you. We saw that the other day. Because David thinks you'll do it well." "You said it was a test." "Yes, but not the way you mean. A test of technique. A test of Tim's limits. Even a test of their relationship..." That evening I dressed very ordinarily, jeans and a white shirt. I didn't want to intimidate him. Andrew hugged me warmly. "I'll expect you when I see you." Even though it was dark, it was an unusually warm day for January. I wound down the car window and felt my spirits rise, wild and powerful and happy. - 82 Tim was waiting for me, and we kissed. I felt the slightness of his body in his arms, and for a moment I was amazed at what I was planning to do. "What a lovely evening!" I said. "We could almost sit outside." "Not quite. Come in." "We could do a scene in the wood. Like Derek and Gavin did for me." "Did they really? What did they do?" I told him about my night hanging from a branch. "All night? All bloody night? Tol, they really did you over, those two, didn't they?" "There were some hard times. I don't mind. Andrew says I'm a hard player." "Are you, now? You worry me curiously." "Believe it, blond boy," I growled fearsomely. He looked at me sidelong and I laughed. I suddenly wanted very much to hear him scream. "Come and eat." "Before that, can I have a look at your dungeon? Give me the grand tour." He looked at me again. "Okay." He led me down some steps, and there was a door, a heavy wooden job with studs and bars, and over it a board with ABANDON HOPE on it. A bit over the top, I thought; but the inside was quite different, more like a suburban drawing room, decorated and carpeted in pastel shades, but with added SM equipment, a kind of IKEA torture-chamber. I didn't know whether to laugh or vomit; it was vastly unsettling and profoundly decadent. Tim was laughing at me. "You should see your face!" "A yucca plant! Jesus, Tim!" He was convulsed. "It really frightens them when we bring them in here. They think we're psychopaths!" "I'm not surprised. You sure you aren't?" The place was huge. I walked round. There was the cross which they'd had upstairs before. A rack. A thing like a dentist's chair, and other things. "How does this work?" I said, pointing to the rack. He showed me. It was sophisticated, but simple. I saw the stacks of drawers, and noted the one marked CLAMPS. "Are all these tools okay to use on you?" "Yes. The other ones are stored away. You aren't going to use all of them, are you?" "Why not? The night is yet young, child. Come on. Lead me to the food." We ate in their kitchen. It was quite a light meal, and I was pleased. Tim had opened a bottle of wine. I made him drink a glass, but had none myself. We chatted about this and that, but I was feeling rather nervous. "Tell me your safeword, Tim." "I said. For you it's 'dark horse'." "Just checking. And your slowword?" "My slowword! Let's say: 'quartet'. Just what are you planning for me tonight, Tol?" He looked at me curiously. "Wait and see, as Asquith said." "Come on, don't keep me in suspense! What?" "Tim." I looked at him firmly, and he was abashed. "I'm sorry, sir." "Just let me do this my way, okay?" "Yes, sir, of course." "God, you look so serious!" I said, trying to break the moment. "How about some coffee?" He smiled at me and got up to do it. "You're okay, Tol, you know that? I'll get away with anything if you let me." "I need your help, Tim. This is still new..." "Yeah, but you've been there, you've been through it. That inspires respect. Don't be worried." "You're Tim Hamley. You've no idea how scarey that is." "And you're Tol Burnley, the bloody-handed abuser." I laughed. "Well, we'll see, shan't we?" We drank our coffee in silence, looking at each other. "Come on, Tim, let's go for a litle walk." I took him outside. It was quite chilly now, and completely silent. The moon, low in the sky, shone across the meadow, and we seemed to be alone in the world. I turned him to me, and kissed him. "Tol," I heard him say, almost in a whisper. I laced my fingers into his hair and turned him to me again. "Now give yourself, Tim. Now." He did it. I could feel the change in him in my arms as he submitted, and his eyes closed briefly. "Come inside." We went in, and I told him to strip. "You're so beautiful, boy. So beautiful. And tonight is going to be so extraordinary. Come on. Downstairs." We went down the stairs and into David's pastel-blue torture chamber. "Kneel, beautiful one. Put your forehead on the floor. Are you my slave for tonight?" It looked so small, the curve of his back and blond hair. "Yes, sir. I'm your slave." "Yes. And we are going to wild, new places, Tim, wild and different, and you will be hurt, and you will scream and be very scared. But I will look after you, I'll be with you all the way, right to the end, and it will be okay, if you trust me. Do you trust me, Tim?" "Yes, sir, I trust you." "Stand up." He was hard, and his eyes were frightened. "Do you really, really trust me?" There were tears, now. He was so perfect. "Yes, sir, I do!" I led him to the cross, and strapped him facing it. Then I got a many- tailed scourge. "You know this," I said quietly in his ear. "You're not afraid of this, are you?" "No, sir, I'm not." He smiled at me, reassured. "Then let's enjoy this." I started very gently, moving all the way down from his shoulders to his legs, and gradually got harder and harder. After a while he was moaning at each blow, and I could see he was still hard. I was striking quite hard now, he was marking, and sometimes he screamed, but I was right. This was home territory for him, and he was loving it. The marks lay across the two sides of his back and over his arse and thighs, he threw his head back and screamed upwards, his arms straining, and he was beautiful. I could have continued with this all night. But I saw that shortly he would come if I went on, and I didn't want that. I stopped and untied him, and held him for a long while as he came down. I had made him weep, and he held me hard. "Okay, Tim?" "Oh, yes, sir, that was so lovely..." "Now come with me." I led him to the rack, helped him up and fastened him down. Then I turned the wheels just enough to hold him firmly. I wanted nothing to distract him from what I was going to do. I wanted to get right into him, right into his terror. I wanted to confront it without qualification. I left him alone for some minutes, moving round the room. I stood in front of _Blood and Pain_ and used it to gather my thoughts and feelings. Then I felt we were ready. "Now, Tim," I said, looking down into his face. "Now you must trust me." I opened CLAMPS, and there were the needles in sterile packs, gloves, some alcohol, swabs, everything. I put them all on a tray, and brought them over. I had done this to Andrew, and I had done it to myself. I knew what to do, and I was not afraid. His chest was lovely. There was almost no hair, and the slabs of the pectorals were clear, although not heavy. His nipples were quite large, showing the signs of recent work, and the aureoles were clear and distinct. I put on a glove on my right hand, opened a pack of needles and laid them in a dish. Then I picked up one, and showed it to him. He started to babble. "Oh, sir! Oh, no, sir! Please! I can't..." I smoothed back his hair with my other hand, and leant over him. "Tim. You can. Listen, lovely boy. I have done this myself. I have, and you can. Now. Trust me. I'm asking for your trust..." There were tears in his eyes. I kissed his forehesd, and then I swabbed his nipples and the whole area round them carefully. I put on the other glove and took the needle again. I pinched his skin, and slowly, slowly, pressed the needle through, about an inch from his left nipple and pointing in. He screamed without reservation. I stripped off the gloves and held his head, kissing him. "Oh, sir, no more! Please, I'm begging you!" "There will be more. Many, many more. We're going to do this, Tim, and you're coming with me all the way. Now." I put the gloves on again, and put the second needle next to the first. He was really in distress now, his dick was completely soft, and he was sobbing. I knew we were approaching a crisis, so I quickly put the third needle in, next to the other two. I wanted to make a ring all round his nipple. He screamed, and then he said it: "Quartet!" I put the next needle down, took off the gloves and held him. "Is it really so painful, Tim? Does it hurt? Really, does it hurt?" "No - no sir, it isn't that. It's the thought. I've never been able to bear them, needles. I'm - really they terrify me. Really. I'm so frightened..." "Do you trust me, Tim? Really?" "Yes sir." He swallowed. "I'm trying." "Think of me, then. Just think really hard of me. Now, Tim. I want to put three more in. I'll do them quite quickly. Then you tell me whether I can go on. Okay? Just three. Will you take three more?" He had calmed a little. He wasn't sweating and his skin felt quite warm. "Okay, sir." He swallowed again, and shut his eyes. "Do it." "Think of me. I'll take you there." I put on the gloves, and set the three needles in him. He was breathing quickly, but he stayed calm. He let me do it. It was unbelievably beautiful. And now the needles went a quarter of the way round his nipple. "There. That's six, now. Okay?" "Yes, sir. Sir, you can go ahead. Just - put them in, okay?" There were tears streaming down his face, but he said yes. I remembered what Chris said, about the moment of consent, and I almost came, it was so intense. "You're lovely, Tim. So brave..." So working deliberately, slowly but without interruption, I put in eighteen more, making a complete circle round his nipple, and all the time he was weeping, sometimes screaming. I was remorseless. I was getting right to him, and it was heavenly. When I'd finished, I stripped off my gloves again, and held his head, looking into his eyes. "Well done, blond boy. You really are brave. You've got twenty-four now. Twenty-four needles, and you took them all!" He was still weeping, but he managed a smile. "Thank you, sir..." I smiled back and held him for a long while. "Never done this before?" "No, sir, not even one. Thank you, sir..." "Now. Are you ready for the other side?" He screamed. "No! Not again! Oh, please sir, I tried, but please!" He was thrashing his head, scraming, and I could see real despair in his eyes, but I was determined. And he hadn't used his slowword again. "Tim! Tim! Look at me! Centre down, now, look at me!" Gradually he calmed. "Please, sir." He was weeping quietly, and I knew he had surrendered. "Keep trusting me, Tim. Here we go. Think of me." I put on the gloves again, and began to work round the other side. And as I did, he quietened gradually, and I could see he was going deeper, deeper and further away from me, into his own space, moaning quietly, staring at me. Both the rings were finished now, and I leant to kiss him. There were still tears, but he was far away now. "Tim. The other side's done now." And I heard him whisper, so quietly I could hardly hear him: "Don't stop. Don't stop..." So I took four more needles. And I put two in each nipple, right through them, across each other. And now he was as hard as rock. I had thought of putting more in him, in the skin of his dick, or round his navel. But it was enough. He kissed me frantically, insanely, as I bent to him. Then I took his dick in my mouth, and after three or four strokes, no more, he arched his back and screamed, and shot and shot and shot. I held him very gently, then, as I removed the needles as quickly and neatly as I could, and he groaned and occasionally gave little cries as I did it. Then they were all gone. I swabbed his chest carefully, and untied him, and held him tight for a long time, stroking his hair and whispering to him. Finally I saw his eyes open and look for mine. "It's over," I said. "Shit, Tol, you're a cruel and evil bastard," he said, with a smile. - 83 "Let's go upstairs," he said. "I need a drink." He got us two beers, and we sat on the sofa, hugging. "Tol, that was simply incredible. Did David know you were going to do that?" "He asked me to." "I'll fucking kill that man! No one has ever put a goddam needle in me before!" "Was it so bad?" "Tol, it was awful, it was indescribably terrifying and dreadful. It was also amazing, wonderful and as hot as pancakes. I am utterly gobsmacked. And you're sitting there, grinning like a loon!" "That's because it was the most wonderful experience of my life. Thank you, lovely one." He grabbed me and kissed me, hard. "How many scenes have you done now?" "That was my third." "You are seriously good, my boy, let me tell you. But bloody hard." "Those needles aren't hard." "No, the way you pressed me. I thought you'd finished after the first circle, and when you went on - Tol, you just smashed me to pieces. God. Cruel and evil. Thank god they didn't beat it all out of you, someone'll be grateful for that. David never presses me that hard!" "That's because he knows you so much better. I was feeling my way." "I used my goddam slowword. I haven't done that for a year or more... Look at those damn marks!" He was peering down at his chest, where the twin circles of pinpricks could be seen. "You can boast about them to David. You can think yourself lucky. I was going to do your dick as well." His eyes blurred and he shivered. "Come on. Come to bed. You owe me a fuck, remember?" He grabbed my hand and pulled me into his room. "Get those sodding clothes off. I want you in me!" I was naked in a moment, and he was already on his back, his legs up. I was entranced. "Lube!" "Sod that. Spit's enough for me. Just do it!" I spat in my hand and used it to ease a finger into him. He relaxed at once. Then I wet my dick, and went to him. Despite what he said he was tight, far tighter than I expected, but he gave no sign of pain, and I was down right into him in one thrust, smooth, hot and firm. "Fuck me! Fuck me hard!" For some reason, although I had been keyed up for so long, I went on for what seemed like hours, and I wasn't gentle. I was pounding him, forcing him, and he was groaning and yelling, demanding more and more. I could see the circles of pinpoints on his chest, and the exquisite face with its cloud of blond hair, and the cool, elvish green eyes, and finally he twisted in orgasm and came between us, and I followed him, shouting. He was lying on my shoulder, and I was stroking his hair. And then we fell asleep. David woke us. "Hi guys, how did it go?" I opened my eyes, and he was sitting on the bed by us. "You sod, David, you set me up!" said Tim. "Look at my chest!" "Good grief. How many did you use, Tol, for heaven's sake?" "Fifty-two." "Fifty-two? You put fifty-two needles in my boy?" "Sir, I'm sorry..." He laughed out loud. Then he laughed and laughed. "I was expecting perhaps two." He was wiping his eyes. "One in each nipple. Maybe three or four at the outside... Fifty-two! Didn't he use his slowword?" "Yes I bloody did. And he stopped, so no one can get him for that. He talked me into it. And then when he finished the first circle, I thought that was it, and then he told me he was going to do the whole damn thing again, and he pressed me, and I just fell to bits, David. God. So he did, and I just went. I went right under, right down deep." "When I finished that he told me not to stop. So I put some in his nipples themselves. After that he was out of it, so I stopped." "You sucked me off, you mean. With fifty-two needles in me. Shit." David was holding Tim now, kissing him and stroking his hair, and I realised it was time for me to go. I put my clothes on. "I'd best be off. Andrew will be waiting." "Tol," said Tim. "Thank you. Really thank you. That was a marvellous, marvellous experience." He knelt up in bed and kissed me. "Come back soon. I love you." "C'mon, son," said David. "I'll walk you to your car." Outside the night had turned frosty, and our feet clicked on the stones. "How do you feel?" "Um. A bit down, now." "It happens. Go and have a cuddle with Andrew. And feel proud of yourself. You've done a wonderful thing for us, something brave and excellent. We won't forget." "Thank you, David." "We'll see you in two days." We kissed, and I drove off. Even though I knew it was foolish, I felt excluded, dismissed. I drove for a while, then stopped the car and got out to collect myself. The road ran over a little rise, and before me a wide valley stretched down to the woods beyond, the fields white with frost, phosphorescent in the cool gaze of the moon, and above me the vast bowl of the sky was crowded with the steely pinpricks of the winter stars. The air was frozen silent and still, breathless. I stood motionless, my mind blank, and gradually from within me a great and wild joy arose, filling me to overflowing. I, Tol Burnley, this evening I had done something wonderful, something extraordinary, something I now knew was rare, difficult and courageous, something I would be proud of all my life. I had been into the depths over the last few months, I had committed a terrible crime, I had been despised and punished and broken, and slowly I had climbed back up. This evening I had reached the heights. Whatever happened in the future, nothing could take that away. A tiny shadow flickered across the valley: a fox, dancing its way through the frozen night. I got back into the car and drove off, laughing to myself. "Well," I said to Andrew, "I'm back!" He took one look at my face, and hugged me, swinging me round and round. ====================================================================== Continued and concluded in Part 9 ======================================================================