By His Rules Read online

  BY HIS RULES

  J. A. Rock

  www.loose-id.com

  By His Rules

  Copyright © January 2012 by J. A. Rock

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original

  purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book

  may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any

  printed or electronic form without prior written

  permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate

  in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in

  violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized

  editions.

  eISBN 978-1-61118-766-3

  Editor: Christine Pacheco

  Cover Artist: April Martinez

  Printed in the United States of America

  Published by

  Loose Id LLC

  PO Box 809

  San Francisco CA 94104-0809

  www.loose-id.com

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be

  made to actual historical events or existing locations, the

  names, characters, places and incidents are either the

  product of the author’s imagination or are used

  fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons,

  living or dead, business establishments, events, or

  locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult

  language and may be considered offensive to some

  readers. Loose Id LLC’s e-books are for sale to adults

  ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which

  you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely,

  where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  * * * *

  DISCLAIMER: Please do not try any new sexual practice,

  especially those that might be found in our BDSM/fetish

  titles without the guidance of an experienced

  practitioner. Neither Loose Id LLC nor its authors will be

  responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting

  from use of the information contained in any of its titles.

  Dedication

  For Michelle and John

  Chapter One

  “Then Daddy’d take your shorts down, put you

  over his knee, and give you a good old-fashioned

  spanking. You’d listen to Daddy then, wouldn’t you?”

  “Mmm. Yes, Sir.” Aiden Cole tried to signal the

  bartender for another gin and soda, making it too

  obvious he was only half listening to Daddy.

  He’d seen Daddy around here before and had

  always felt privately grateful that the heavyset, bearded

  top never approached him—until tonight.

  The last ten minutes had confirmed Aiden’s

  suspicion that Daddy was not particularly interesting or

  arousing. Still, Obey didn’t hold many prospects on a

  Monday night, and Aiden didn’t want to cast off the

  possibility of spending tonight in short pants, squalling

  theatrically while Daddy blistered his ass with what was

  —Aiden had to admit—an impressively meaty palm.

  Daddy-boy play freaked Aiden out a little. He’d

  done two schoolboy scenes last week, but this little-boy

  shit was a different ball game. Daddy was talking as

  though he might require some thumb-sucking of Aiden

  —not the kind of sucking Aiden liked to do.

  Still, Aiden prided himself on his willingness to try

  just about any scene. He had hard limits—blood,

  needles, scat, rape—but one thing he loved about BDSM

  play was the opportunity to take on new characters.

  Naughty Boy Scout, palace slave, trembling virgin, high-

  school slut… Aiden had played them all. It wasn’t exactly

  the acting career he’d had in mind when he graduated

  with honors from State University’s theater program last

  year. He’d expected to be in New York or Chicago by

  now, and he would be if he’d had the money. Aiden tried

  not to let it get him down. He knew a lot of people who

  took a gap year after graduation to travel, explore, and

  “find themselves” before settling down and starting a

  career. Aiden planned to spend this year discovering

  what he truly wanted.

  He glanced around the bar. A man sat alone at a

  table in the corner. Surprisingly handsome—how had

  Aiden missed him before? He was in his thirties, with

  thick, light brown hair, wire-framed glasses, and eyes

  that, even from a distance, suggested warmth and good

  humor. His nose was perfectly straight, his lips full and

  his jaw smooth and well-defined. Juxtaposed with this

  almost delicate beauty was a firm masculinity. He didn’t

  look like someone you’d want to tangle with. Aiden

  could imagine those eyes going from warm to—not

  cruel, not angry, but distinctly disapproving. Aiden got

  the sense that a disapproving look was all this man

  needed to cow an opponent.

  The man caught Aiden’s eye and smiled briefly.

  The smile wasn’t an invitation—the man quickly turned

  back to the notebook he’d been writing in. Who writes in a

  leather bar? Aiden watched him take a sip of his drink.

  Something clear. Vodka? Gin? Water?

  Aiden was so intrigued and exasperated by the

  man’s eccentricity that he almost wanted to sit down

  across from him and start flirting up a storm, force the

  man to stop writing. Buy him a whiskey. Get him buzzed

  and hard…

  “Out of your league,” Daddy said.

  Aiden whirled. “What are you talking about?”

  “Keaton Hughes. He’s out of your league.”

  Aiden laughed. “No one’s out of my league.”

  “All right, true enough. But if anyone was, it’d be

  Keaton.”

  “He’s not that hot.”

  “Hot don’t make the top, honey.” Daddy gestured

  to his own short, fleshy body. “Case in point. No, it’s not

  his looks—though he is quite striking. It’s something

  else. He’s not your typical top. Seen him in here once or

  twice. Never takes anyone home. Never plays in the

  basement.”

  “But you’ve met him?” For the first time that

  evening, Aiden was interested in what Daddy had to say.

  “Yeah, nice guy. I’m just not sure what he wants.

  Maybe he’s not sure either. Maybe that’s why he’s here.”

  Keaton didn’t look like a man who was unsure

  about anything. He was still writing in his notebook. He

  looked up, and his gaze caught Aiden’s once more, for

  just a second. The faintest smile appeared on his face as

  he returned to his writing.

  Aiden stood. Whatever Keaton Hughes wanted,

  Aiden could give him. “Excuse me,” he said to Daddy.

  He’d barely taken a step toward the corner when he felt

  the energy shift in the club. He turned and saw

  something that made his heart wobble and collapse.

  Scott Runge.

  In full regalia—black chaps, thick leather straps

  cro
ssing his broad chest at the gleaming steel ring

  between his perfect pecs. He wore thick-soled boots that

  Aiden knew he made his subs polish with their tongues,

  and kept a quirt tucked casually in his waistband.

  Aiden’s ass clenched at the memory of how much that

  thing stung. Even Aiden, renowned in the leather

  community for his ability to give head, hadn’t lived up

  to Scott’s demands when they’d played in Obey’s

  basement dungeon last month. Scott hadn’t hesitated to

  pop Aiden’s ass with that quirt whenever he was

  dissatisfied with Aiden’s performance.

  Aiden forgot everything, even Keaton Hughes. He

  crossed the room as though pulled by a giant magnet,

  eyes down, until he stood inches from the enormous pair

  of boots. He watched Scott’s weight shift from one foot to

  the other, and he swallowed. He willed himself not to

  look Scott in the eye.

  Difficult, since Scott had gorgeous eyes—electric

  blue, holding a promise of excitement and danger. Aiden

  shivered at the memory of the first time he’d failed to

  obey an order from Scott, and Scott had said in a quiet,

  deadly voice, “Look at me.” Aiden had somehow forced

  his gaze to meet Scott’s and, in an instant, saw the pleasure

  Scott took from being in control, from seeing Aiden

  tremble, from preparing to make Aiden hurt.

  You didn’t look Scott Runge in the eye unless you

  were ordered to. And if you were ordered to, it was

  pretty much a guarantee you were in trouble.

  “Hello, Sir,” Aiden said softly, not sure if Scott

  would hear him over the music.

  There was no reply, and Aiden thought for sure

  Scott hadn’t heard him or was purposely ignoring him.

  Suddenly a large, warm hand closed over the back of

  Aiden’s neck. Fingers threaded through his hair.

  “What a pretty boy.” Scott’s voice rumbled. He

  tilted Aiden’s chin up. “I remember you. You’re the one

  who can’t suck cock worth a damn.”

  Hot fury rose in Aiden. Scott would be hard-

  pressed to find a top here who agreed with him. Aiden

  prided himself on his ability to suck dick, and it

  devastated him that Scott Runge, of all people, didn’t

  appreciate his talents. “Yes, Sir,” he murmured.

  “Back for round two, huh?”

  How the taunt in Scott’s voice could seem so

  alluring was beyond Aiden.

  “Think you can please me this time?”

  “I’d like to try, Sir,” Aiden said, lowering his head

  again, aware of Scott’s fingers still in his hair.

  Scott yanked, and Aiden gasped. His head shot up,

  and he saw that more than a few people were watching.

  He wondered fleetingly if Keaton Hughes was among

  the spectators.

  “What do you think, boys?” Scott asked the crowd.

  “Think I should give this pretty kid one more chance to

  please me?”

  Agreeable laughter and light applause met his

  question. Someone yelled, “Do it right here!”

  The grip on Aiden’s hair was too tight to allow any

  movement.

  “What do you think, boy?” Scott growled in his ear.

  “You coming home with me tonight?”

  “Yes, Sir,” Aiden said. It was nothing like the

  vague, obligatory “yes, Sir” he’d given Daddy moments

  ago. He meant this one with everything in him.

  The crowd parted to let them through. Scott steered

  Aiden by the hair, stopping at the coat check to put on a

  long jacket. It physically hurt Aiden to see the leather

  straps of Scott’s harness disappear under the coat.

  Outside of the club, the night air was cool and

  soothed some of the heat from Aiden’s cheeks and groin.

  Scott eased his grip on Aiden’s hair, probably afraid

  some vanilla would see them and call the cops. He

  guided Aiden across the street to the parking lot with a

  hand on Aiden’s neck. Aiden half wanted to stop

  walking and just lean into that touch.

  “I don’t know what I want to do to you first,” Scott

  remarked casually. “Fuck you or beat you.” He hit a

  button on his key chain and his car blinked to life. Scott

  opened the passenger door and shoved Aiden inside.

  “You’ve got a great ass. I remember that. I can’t wait to

  turn it red.”

  Aiden’s breath caught. Black and blue was more

  like it, if their last session was anything to go by. Scott

  was rough, rougher than any top Aiden had ever played

  with. But that was part of Scott’s allure. The rush of fear

  the man inspired went straight to Aiden’s groin.

  They drove for a few minutes in silence. Aiden

  noted how empty the streets were, how agonizing it was

  to wait at red lights when there was no one else at the

  intersection. Red lights. Everything was red. Scott’s car,

  the industrial haze of the night sky, Aiden’s cheeks as he

  thought about what lay in store…

  Scott said, “I suppose I could tie you up, arms

  above your head, and make you drink a fuck ton of

  water. Then you’d have to hold your piss while I fucked

  you raw.”

  Aiden gulped. He already had to go—bad. And if

  Scott made him drink water…

  “What do you think, boy?” Scott demanded.

  “Um, I—whatever would please you, Sir.”

  “You don’t have an opinion on holding your piss

  while I fuck you?”

  “I, um—no, Sir.” What was up with all the um-ing?

  Pull it together, Cole.

  “If you went in your pants, know what I’d do? I’d

  make you take those pants off and put them over your

  head, so you couldn’t breathe anything but your own

  filth. Then I’d bend you over the bed and take my belt to

  your wet little ass until you squealed.”

  God. Foul as the image was, it brought his cock

  shooting up, making him even more painfully aware of

  his full bladder.

  “What do you think of that? I’d probably whack

  your little dick a couple of times too.”

  Aiden couldn’t help himself. He moaned, running a

  hand over the front of his pants.

  Scott glanced at him. “Touch yourself, slut. Go on.

  I’m watching.”

  When Aiden hesitated, Scott reached over and

  placed a hand on his thigh. Aiden let out a shuddering

  breath as the warm weight of Scott’s hand traveled

  slowly up, finally passing over the bulge in the front of

  his jeans. Scott’s fingers played with the bulge, wiggling

  it like a loose tooth. Aiden tipped his head back, arched

  his back, and jutted his pelvis forward to give Scott

  easier access.

  Suddenly Scott smacked the inside of Aiden’s thigh

  with the back of his hand. Aiden yelped and started to

  clamp his legs shut, but Scott grabbed his knee and

  thrust it to the side, forcing his legs open again.

  The car swerved, and Scott straightened it out again

  one-handed. He whacked the inside of Aiden’s other

  thigh. “I said touch yourself.�
� Scott alternated smacks on

  Aiden’s inner thighs, his hand coming dangerously close

  to Aiden’s crotch as Aiden fought to keep his legs open.

  Aiden began to whimper in time with the blows, jerking

  and rolling in his seat as he tried to get Scott’s hand to

  graze his cock or balls.

  Scott laughed. “Oh, we’re gonna have fun tonight.”

  Aiden rubbed himself through his jeans, the sting

  from Scott’s slaps still crawling up and down his thighs.

  He put his head back on the seat rest and tried to stretch

  his legs out. He had to piss bad, and the sensation of

  being full and desperate was turning him on. Fuck,

  everything was turning him on right now.

  “Jerk yourself, slut,” Scott ordered.

  Arousal ripped through Aiden at the sharpness of

  Scott’s voice, at the word “slut,” and he tried his best to

  tug his dick through the denim.

  “Stop,” Scott said as they pulled into the driveway

  of a one-story, brown brick house. “You won’t touch

  yourself again tonight without my permission. Is that

  clear?”

  “Yes, Sir.” Aiden tried to hide his frustration. He

  would give anything to keep touching himself right now.

  Or better yet, to have Scott touch him…

  Scott got out. Aiden reached for his door handle

  and stopped. Scott was probably one of those tops who

  didn’t want a sub to do anything without permission.

  Scott came around and opened Aiden’s door. He reached

  in and grabbed Aiden’s right nipple through his tight

  gray tee. Aiden bit back a cry as Scott pulled him out of

  the car and led him by his tit up the driveway and onto

  the front porch, where he took hold of both of Aiden’s

  nipples, rolling and squeezing them. Aiden closed his

  eyes.

  “You like that? You’re into pain, I remember. A

  little pain slut.”

  Aiden tolerated pain better than a lot of subs he

  knew, but it was the mindfuck he was really into. And

  Scott knew how to mess with a sub’s mind as well as his

  body, knew ways of establishing unequivocal control

  that no sub would dare doubt or resist.

  “Mmn.” His tits hurt like nothing else, and his heart

  butted up against his chest.

  Scott released him to unlock the door, then sent

  Aiden into the dark hallway with a swat to his rear. Scott

  turned on the light. The house was clean and tidy.

  Framed photos on the wall depicted decidedly

  nondeviant scenes—a barn covered in snow, a