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Jeremy leans over the arm of his throne to whisper into Paul’s ear as the winning contestant takes the stage to claim their prizes. Paul nods back, continuing to applaud along with everyone else, worry lines creasing his brow.
After the contestants and audience have filed out, Jeremy nods to Paul to follow him down to his dressing room. Paul follows, obedient as always, gripping his iPad with both hands so tightly his knuckles are turning white. Jeremy ushers Paul into his room, flicking the light switch on before taking a seat himself. He looks as regal as he does in his throne, legs crossed and a handsome scowl on his face. Paul stands before him, fidgeting with his iPad.
“Paul, I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve called you in here today,” Jeremy says flatly, like he’s bored. He even looks at his cuticles for a long moment.
Paul nods wordlessly, feeling a trickle of sweat drip down the back of his collar.
“I’m going to be straight with you,” Jeremy starts, and Paul mutters under his breath, “Please don’t.”
“I wasn’t impressed with the tasks in today’s record.”
“I – oh. What?” Paul stammers, confused.
“I think you’re losing your touch,” Jeremy says, leaning forward in his seat, planting his elbows on his knees and steepling his fingers together. An image flashes through Paul’s mind of an iron… Paul snaps back to reality when he realizes Jeremy is still talking. “...interstitials you’re shooting are more interesting.” He slides his fingers together and rests his chin on top of them, looking at Paul intently. “I need you to do better.”
Paul nods frantically. “I will, I promise.”
Jeremy leans back, unhooks his fingers and waves one at Paul. “No. No promises. Results.”
Paul shakes his head, not understanding.
“Tonight, you’re coming to my home. And we will fix this problem. Together.”
Paul gulps.
—
Jeremy’s house is nice. Like, really nice. Paul catches a glimpse of a pathway going off to the side of the house surrounded by bushes and trees and imagines a huge garden behind the house. It’s dark when Jeremy’s car pulls into the driveway, and Paul nervously follows him into the house from the darkness of the garage. Jeremy reaches out a hand behind him for Paul to hold as they navigate their way through the dark house, and Paul grabs onto it and clings to it like it’s a life-saving buoy. Jeremy’s fingers are solid and steady, a firm presence in an unknown land. They walk down a couple of hallways and into a room that is pitch black. Paul is grateful he has Jeremy to hold onto, and when Jeremy flicks on the light switch, Paul audibly gasps.
There’s no other word for it – the room is a dungeon. A large black metal cage is the first thing that catches Paul’s eye in the corner of the room. Scanning the rest of the area, he sees a full wall hung with floggers, whips, blindfolds, gags, paddles, riding crops, collars, chains, and a few things Paul doesn’t even recognize. It’s all very organized. There’s a table filled with clean-looking towels, sheets, bottles of lube and sanitizer, cleaning supplies, and condoms. A Saint Andrew’s cross stands in the center of the room. The floor is entirely made out of soft padded black cushion. In the corner of the room opposite the cage is a roped off area filled to the brim with bean bags, blankets, and pillows. Paul thinks he sees a couple of stuffed animals in there too. There are a few hard points on the ceiling and a couple of spanking benches near the Saint Andrew’s. Paul takes it all in, soaks it up in silence, for a full two minutes before he looks at Jeremy, mouth wide open.
“Surprised?” Jeremy asks, grinning.
Paul closes his mouth and nods. His black hair flops on his forehead.
“I’m guessing you’re familiar with most of this…?” Jeremy asks, stepping into the room and removing his tie, folding it carefully and placing it on the table with the cleaning supplies. He begins unbuttoning his shirt, looking at Paul expectantly.
Paul nods again, really feeling hot under the collar now. He pulls at his bow tie in an effort to let out some of the heat, and Jeremy takes notice.
“Here, let me,” he says, shirt fully open as he walks toward Paul. With deft fingers he undoes Paul’s tie, wraps it around his knuckles, and begins unbuttoning Paul’s shirt.
“Jeremy, wait!”
Jeremy freezes, his hands stalled on one of Paul’s middle buttons. He raises an eyebrow.
“I don’t – what is… how, where?” Paul stammers, looking around the room, then back into Jeremy’s eyes.
Jeremy smirks, taking a step back and holding up his hands. “Listen, Paul. If you don’t want to do this, that’s more than –”
“No!” Paul surges forward, hand reaching out, grasping for one of Jeremy’s. He wraps his fingers around Jeremy’s hand, squeezing. “No, I… I do want to. I just… didn’t think…”
“Thought I was vanilla as they come, ey?” Jeremy chuckles.
“Well, yes,” Paul admits, feeling himself blush.
“You’ll be happy to find I’m quite experienced.” Jeremy twists his hand in Paul’s so their fingers intertwine. He leans in close, and whispers in Paul’s ear. “What’s your safeword?”
Paul feels a full body shiver take him from the top of his head down to his toes. The way Jeremy says it is so sexy, and he feels like his legs might give out.
“Pineapple,” he almost whispers.
Jeremy smirks. “Good boy.” He takes a step toward Paul so they’re an inch apart. “Now. May I continue?” he asks, looking down at Paul’s half-unbuttoned shirt.
Paul nods frantically, desperate for Jeremy to touch him again. He gets so little of it in the studio, Jeremy acting so touch-averse when Paul reaches out for his hand or arm or even just resting his hand on Jeremy’s throne, Paul willing Jeremy to notice him, to touch him, to grab his hand.
Jeremy’s fingers undo Paul’s buttons as if they’ve done it thousands of times before. Paul wishes that were true. He looks at Jeremy’s eyes as he works; Jeremy’s head is lowered as he looks down at Paul’s shirt, carefully and intentionally detaching buttons from holes one at a time. When he’s done, Jeremy slides Paul’s jacket and shirt off his shoulders, letting the clothing fall to the floor. Paul stands stock still, arms stiffly at his sides, as Jeremy runs a finger over his collarbone, down the middle of his chest, down through his belly hair, around to the curve of his hip bone, up to his shoulder blades, down his spine. That last touch sends another chill through Paul’s body, and he stands on tip-toes to try and fight off the urge to crumple to the floor.
“We need to get you in the right headspace to write better tasks,” Jeremy says, cupping his own chin with a hand. “Have you ever tried pet play before?”
Paul is taken aback by how easily Jeremy asks the question, but he nods. “I… I like to be a puppy.”
“Good. Let’s try that first, then.” Jeremy walks to the wall of hanging tools and selects a padded collar with a chain leash attached to the front. He brings it over to Paul and holds it up in front of him. “May I?”
Paul only nods. He stands as still as a statue as Jeremy walks behind him and attaches the collar around his throat. It’s comfortably tight enough, and Paul already feels himself slipping, especially when Jeremy lightly pulls on the leash to increase the pressure on Paul’s neck.
“Down, boy,” Jeremy whispers into Paul’s ear, and Paul folds to the floor easily, going on all fours. His hands are flat against the padded ground and he is pleasantly surprised to note that his knees don’t hurt at all on the soft flooring. He looks up at Jeremy, all puppy dog eyes (pun absolutely intended) and reverence. He sits pretty for Jeremy, waiting for his next instruction.
“Let’s see what works for you, okay?” Jeremy says, fingering the chained leash. “Shake?”
Paul holds up his right hand and places it in Jeremy’s outstretched left. Jeremy drops it.
“Down?”
Paul lays flat on his belly, looking up at Jeremy the best he can.
“Roll over?”
Paul does it easily from his “down” position, then assumes a sitting pose.
“Turn around?”
Paul turns around.
“Good boy,” Jeremy says, and Paul’s face lights up. Jeremy smirks. “You like praise, don’t you, my beautiful boy?”
Paul nods his head frantically, putting his front “paws” together neatly. Jeremy reaches down to scratch at the back of his head, and Paul leans into it, closing his eyes. When he removes his hand, Jeremy drops the leash and walks to the corner of the room with the beanbags and blankets and picks up a plush toy. It’s a grey elephant. He walks back to Paul, who has been watching him intently, and throws it over his head.
“Fetch!”
Paul bounds away on all fours, chain leash jingling behind him, scrambles to the elephant, and picks it up in his mouth, wagging his butt as he prances back to Jeremy. He drops the toy at Jeremy’s feet. Jeremy bends down to give Paul another head scratch, and Paul rears up to put his hands on Jeremy’s knees.
“Ah ah! Down, boy!”
Paul pouts as he goes back to the floor.
“Seems like you need some time to decompress. All those ideas buzzing around in your head just waiting to be tasks must be hard to catch, aren’t they?”
Paul nods up at Jeremy.
“Come.” Jeremy pats his leg to summon Paul, who follows after him. They go to the cage in the other corner of the room and Jeremy opens the door for Paul, unhooking the leash from his collar. Paul pads inside, lowering his head. Inside the cage is more black padding. Jeremy doesn’t close the cage door but instead goes back to the beanbags, grabs a fuzzy looking blanket, then walks over to the table with cleaning supplies on it and takes a sheet from the pile. He comes back to Paul, throwing the blanket and elephant toy in there with him, then billows the sheet over the top of the cage. Paul can only see out of the door now, and he watches as Jeremy’s fingers find the latch and close the cage.
“I’ll be right here, my sweet boy.” Jeremy’s voice is only slightly muffled coming from outside the sheeted cage. “You get some rest.”
Paul lays the blanket out and curls up on top of it, cradling the elephant toy. He thinks about everything he’s seen and heard this evening and tries to piece it all together. But the cage is cozy and comforting, and the thoughts just keep slipping out of his head. He allows them to go and just focuses on his breathing. He notices how warm and soft it is in the cage, and how safe he feels. He’s almost drifting off to sleep when Jeremy raises up the sheet at the front of the cage.
“You doing okay?”
“Yes, Jeremy,” Paul says softly, forgetting he’s supposed to be a pup. Then the realization hits him and he slaps a hand over his mouth.
Jeremy chuckles, unlatching the cage. “It’s okay. You can talk. In fact, I prefer it. Come on out.”
Paul crawls out from the cage, unsure of whether he should stay on the floor or stand up. Jeremy makes the decision for him, holding out a hand to help Paul to his feet. Once he’s standing, Paul notices how light he feels. How snug and comfortable the collar around his neck is. How Jeremy is staring at him with those gorgeous eyes… Paul lets his own eyes wander down Jeremy’s front – good lord, the man is fit. “Glistening abs” sounds like something out of a bad porno, but here they are, real as day, in front of Paul’s face. He licks his lips without realizing he’s doing it. Jeremy pulls a long, black, silk piece of fabric out from his back pocket.
“Turn around?” he asks Paul, and Paul complies.
Jeremy slides the cool silk over Paul’s eyes and ties it snugly at the back. Paul feels a tug at his collar, then feels Jeremy’s fingers glide over the collar and down his neck, past his collarbone, to the center of his chest. Jeremy’s hand lingers there for a moment, and then it’s gone.
“Stay put.”
Paul stays, swaying slightly.
“Get on your hands and knees.”
Paul goes down.
“Lower.”
Paul goes lower, inverting his back.
“Flat on the ground.”
Paul goes flat, splaying his arms and legs out like a starfish. He inhales the earthy scent of the mat under him. Then he feels one of Jeremy’s shoes on the back of his head and he whimpers. Jeremy puts pressure on him, forcing his head slowly down to the mat. Paul lets it happen, knowing he can safeword out of this at any time. But the pressure feels so good, and he smells the sole of Jeremy’s shoe and it smells like leather and rain and desire. He turns his head at the last second so his cheek is smushed against the floor, and whimpers again when Jeremy digs in.
“Good boy.”
Paul’s hips thrust forward of their own accord. As his body spasms, he fists his hands and tries to stay still, to be good, for Jeremy. He feels the tip of Jeremy’s shoe trail down the back of his neck, down his naked back, up to the swell of his hip, where it rests. Jeremy slides his foot over Paul’s hip bone and under it, so his foot is between Paul and the floor. He lifts his foot, and rolls Paul over onto his back. Then Paul feels a warm weight settle on his lower stomach – Jeremy must be straddling him. Jeremy’s hands run down Paul’s chest like life-giving streams in a dry riverbed. Paul feels gooseflesh break out on his exposed skin, and when he feels Jeremy’s hot breath on his neck his hips thrust up against his Taskmaster. Jeremy grinds down on him, and oh, it is everything. Paul feels himself sinking, or floating away, or something but who cares when Jeremy Wells is riding him so slowly, so sensually? He gets lost in the sensations, of Jeremy’s hips, his hands, his breath that keeps whispering “good boy” over and over…
An undetermined amount of time later, Paul surfaces from the bottom of the deep ocean he’s been in. He can’t feel his body, doesn’t know whether it’s been responding to Jeremy’s ministrations, and doesn’t really care. The blindfold is still over his eyes and he can hear Jeremy call his name, so softly. Paul hums contentedly in response. Jeremy calls his name again, clearer this time.
“Mhmm?” Paul responds, dreamily.
“Come back to me, Paul,” Jeremy says gently. Kindly.
Now Paul starts feeling things. The weight that’s still pinning him down. The wet blindfold across his eyes – why is it wet? – and the cool slickness that’s between him and Jeremy. When he shimmies around he can feel it, getting uncomfortably colder by the second. Did he come in his pants and not realize it? He feels Jeremy’s warm hand cup his cheek, feels Jeremy’s other hand slide around to the back of his head and undo the blindfold. He blinks a few times to get used to the light and sees Jeremy, topless, straddling him. So it wasn’t a dream.
“You okay?” Jeremy asks, and Paul nods, feeling like a new man.
“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” Jeremy dismounts Paul and gets to his feet, offering Paul his hand. Paul takes it and hauls himself to his feet, feeling light as a feather. He overbalances right into Jeremy’s chest, and Jeremy catches him, enveloping him in a hug. Chest to naked chest, Paul can feel Jeremy’s heat, his heartbeat, his steady pulse. Feels his hands on his back, hugging Paul to him. Feels one of those hands slide up into the hair on the back of his head, stroking him. Feels Jeremy whisper into his ear that he’s done such a good job.
Paul floats through the cleanup process, letting Jeremy manhandle him and reposition him and remove his clothes to switch them with soft sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. He allows Jeremy to lead him by the hand to the corner of the room where the beanbags are and lay him down amongst them, draping a blanket over Paul. His eyes relax when Jeremy turns off the lights, and he nods distantly when Jeremy tells him that he’ll just be in the next room over if Paul needs anything.
As Paul drifts off to sleep, happy, content, peaceful, calm, and deeply satisfied, one thought swims in the forefront of his mind.
What the fuck just happened?