Title: Sequel to the Untitled Hustler/Rent boy Novella
Author: Requests to remain anonymous
Pairing: JM/VK
Rating: Very very NC-17
Ed. Note: No names are used in this story, but the intent is for the first person narrator to be JM. Other characters besides JM/VK also appear, and are not based on any real people. Story takes place in England. **This fic contains too many kinks to list, some of which may not be your cuppa. Read at your own discretion.**

“Did you ever hear anything from that kid again?”

“Not a fucking peep,” I said.

Me and my detective, as I liked to call him when I wanted to piss him off, were sitting in one of the booths with the orange seats, eating pie. Or at least, he was shovelling it in while I watched him and drank my Scotch.

He still did this on the odd occasion – slipped in a question about the kid when he thought I was off guard. Didn’t matter if I was off guard, because the answer would’ve still been the same. I tipped out more Scotch into my glass and swallowed it down.

“He’s still on the wanted list, then?”

“Not so much, they’re looking to close on the case. Just a few boxes that need ticking.”

“And you’re a precise kind of guy.”

My detective grinned and leaned forward.

“I like to be thorough, otherwise I can’t sleep at night. And you know how I get cranky if I don’t get my sleep.”

“So what is it that’s keeping you up?”

“Well…” he sucked in air through his teeth, like he was having to think. “What was the victim doing in the kid’s bedroom in the first place? No safe full of dough in there. No sign of forced entry, either.”

“The kid wasn’t big on locking the door.” I looked over at the waitress and she hurried towards us. “Get my detective some more coffee.”

“Coming right up, boss.”

“Thank you, darling,” said the detective, giving her a lazy smile then turning back to me. The smile hadn’t quite reached his eyes.

“Another thing that bothers me – nobody at the bus station or on the bus to Ohio remembers the kid.”

“Busy place, bus stations.”

“And this is the one that really stops me catching my zeds. All your staff from the club -,”

“Ex staff.”

“All of them remember seeing a big, scary guy with tattoos hanging around, but none of them remember anything he ever said to them. Not a dickybird. Now that I find kind of… odd.”

He stopped as the waitress came back with the coffee. When she’d gone, I said:

“You saw the kid. Couldn’t punch his way out of a paper bag. D’you really figure he could do away with a nasty bastard like that?”

“Maybe, I don’t know…” He patted the table suddenly. “But what the hell. It’s not like Joe Public want to waste money on a case like this, not when there’s a name to hang it on already – and a foreign one at that.” He eyed my bottle of Scotch. “What does the wife say about you drinking this early in the working day?”

“I can’t hear when she’s face down on the mattress.”

My detective blinked, then smiled.

“You never were one for chit chat.”

“Actions speak louder than words. And that way I don’t have to lie.”

“You’re a charmer, you know that?”

“I think she’s starting to realise just how charming I am.” I toasted the detective with another drink. “It’s taken her three years to cotton on that I’m not moody and interesting. I’m just moody.”

“You could have kiddies. She wouldn’t have time to notice anything, then.”

“Been trying, but no can do. She blames me, I blame her starving herself when she was a model. Neither of us has the guts to find out who’s right.” I realised the detective was frowning at me. “Don’t get me wrong, though, I love her. I just don’t deserve her.”

“Love’s not about deserving.” The detective pulled out some notes and started to count them out onto the table. “It’s about needing. You’ve got to need her.”

“Thank you, oh wise one. And put your money away.”

He grinned and got up. Checked his gun, put his jacket on.

“I still can’t work out why you invested in this side of town,” he said. “And in a diner.”

“I felt sorry for it.”

“See, you do have a soft side.”

“Yeah, real chewy in the centre…”

After my detective had gone, I disappeared into the store room I used as an office and called up my proper detective – the one I was paying to find the kid. He wasn’t much good because he’d been on retainer for three years and had only now narrowed it down to somewhere that wasn’t Ohio. But I wasn’t in any rush to start with. There was a wedding that took up all my time and none of my interest; a new wife to be pleased; a new business to get off the ground. I’d taken a hit losing the club, but I was insured for most of it and there was a sense of freedom now it was gone that I still couldn’t shake when I woke up of a morning. Course, my girlfriend thought she was marrying a club entrepreneur, not a small time caterer, but landing her prize meant small sacrifices.

I wasn’t lying when I told my detective I loved her – I really did. I thanked God every time she came back home in the evenings and curled up next to me on the sofa. We’d go out and I’d watch her turn all the heads in a restaurant, and feel privileged. I agreed with everything she said and let her do anything she wanted, including painting my white house cream and blue. I even let her take me round new club premises every month and every month I’d promise to pull my finger out with the new venture. Meanwhile, I’d sit in the stock room in the diner the other side of town, and dream of the kid who used to live there.

If I wasn’t in a hurry to find him at first, I sure as hell was after three years.

As the kid once said, beautiful women don’t get the men they deserve. On the other hand, they don’t want the good men, they want the grumpy bastard kind that keep them all confused and needy. There are two types of masochist, the physical and the emotional, and my wife was definitely the emotional type. I had a sneaking suspicion that when she finally got me down the aisle and found out that life with me was less than a rollercoaster, she was disappointed. She liked me nasty and it pissed her off when I wasn’t; once I realised that, the more I let her have her own way, the more I enjoyed being married.

The other type of masochist was currently shacked up in some bland little town the opposite end of Ohio. The way the investigator told it, there’d been a couple of years when he was doing God only knew what and then there’d been a very necessary change of name in the time it had taken him to resurface. There were some grainy photos of the kid looking not as down-and-out as I expected; he was wearing clothes for a start. He’d put on some weight, filled out so that he wasn’t so much the kid anymore, but still managed to stay a skinny runt. He looked… ok. Happy, even.

I was going to kill him.

There were things to consider. First, I wasn’t a free agent anymore, I had responsibilities. Second… there really wasn’t a second. I rang my wife, told her I was going to see a friend for the weekend. She sounded hurt and said some crap about me never considering her feelings, so we were both more than happy by the time I got into the car and set off.

I thought about what I was going to say to him all the way to his hiding place, so when I found the address the investigator had given me and knocked on the door to the not-so-bad apartment, I was ready with the words. Not Shakespeare by any means, but kind of poetic yet still getting the point across. So it was a surprise to both me and the kid when he opened the door wearing nothing but a towel wrapped round his waist and I grabbed him by the throat, threw him against the wall and said:

“Get in the fucking car.”

I guess I only had one way of getting the point across.

For the most fucking delicious second, the kid’s eyes opened very wide and he bit his bottom lip until it turned white. When he let it go, I watched as the blood rushed back. Then he put a hand on my wrist, gentle but firm, and squeezed until I had to loosen my hold on his throat.

“No,” he said.

At that point I noticed two things: someone – a girl – was calling his new name from inside the flat, asking who was at the door; and the kid was still holding my wrist. He turned to say something to the invisible girl, and I couldn’t stop myself, I threaded my fingers through his. Felt the thin bones in his hand for the tiny moment before he pulled away.

The invisible girl came out into the corridor and I almost laughed out loud. She was a plump cutie, all tits and belly wrapped in a dressing gown, nothing like any of the girls the kid had screwed at the club. And she was amazingly ordinary. Come to think of it, the kid seemed ordinary too, even with no clothes on – like the spark in him had been dulled down.

The cutie slid her arm around his waist.

“Hello,” she said, blinking up at me with her ordinary eyes. I introduced myself and I could have sworn those eyes narrowed slightly.

“He’s my old boss,” said the kid. He waited for me to do the rest.

“I was in the neighbourhood. I thought I’d stand you a few drinks for old time’s sake.” I remembered the cutie, and added: “Both of you.”

“We were just going to bed,” said the kid, but his girlfriend nudged him.

“Go on. You don’t have to be at the store tomorrow.”

“Yeah, go on,” I said, smiling. “If you don’t have to be at the store.”

I waited in the car while the kid got changed, mainly because I couldn’t stand ten minutes with the cutie and her big chest. She had a way of looking at me that made me feel guilty for just being there, like she blamed me for a lot of things that were probably all my fault.

The kid got into the car bringing with him a waft of shampoo and aftershave. I tried not to look completely fucking relieved and started the engine.

“You sure smell better than the first time I met you.”

He folded his hands over his lap.

“One drink.”

“What? It’s not like you’ve got the store tomorrow.”

But the kid refused to say anything more, so I drove off, trying not to see in the wing mirror how his girlfriend was watching out of the apartment window.

I took him to a casino I’d spotted on the road into town; figured all that money changing hands might make him remember how he owed me. Guilt trip him into coming back. It didn’t seem to jog his memory but at least the bright lights made him look more alive. Gave his skin that glow he always used to have. His eyes brightened up a bit, too, like he was made to exist in cheap clubs, under electric lights. I ordered the strongest cocktails I could think of, asked the bar man to add a double whisky to it, then went back to the kid who was loitering by the roulette table. I tugged him into a far, dark corner by his sleeve. He sat with his hands pressed to his knees, bouncing them up and down. Glancing at his watch. I reckoned it was time to get poetic.

“You burnt my fucking club down.”

“Doesn’t that just figure.” He almost raised a smile. “I torture you and all you give a shit about is your precious club.”

The drinks arrived, and I tapped his glass with mine.

“Down in one.”

“And then I can go home?”

“If you want to call it that.”

The kid downed his drink and set it on the table.

“Let’s go.”

“I haven’t finished mine, yet.”

“So one drink really means two?”

“And making me leave it after driving all this way would be just plain rude.”

The kid sighed and slumped back, surveying the casino floor. His body looked bored, but there was that spark in his eyes again as he watched the people and the slot machines and the pretty lights. I itched to take him out into the crowd and show him off, even with him dressed in what looked like a very cheap Sunday best. The cutie had done a real job on him, turning him into her kind of ordinary. He had an odd, neat fringe that was trying to curl up off his forehead; a shirt that was too shiny, trousers that were too short. The sort of stuff he’d have frowned at, back when he was at the club; frowned, then taken off. And gone on doing whatever it was I’d have been making him do.

I took the smallest mouthful of my drink and wondered if it was possible to die of sheer fucking desire.

“So,” I said, “what have you been up to?”

“Don’t.”

“What? I can’t be interested?”

There was nothing back; he just sat there, watching anything that wasn’t me.

“If this is what you’re like when you’re sane, I’m thinking you should go back on the dope.” Still nothing. Just the bounce of hands on knees. I took another sip of hammerhead cocktail. “I tell you what, I’ll give you my news.”

This time his gaze flickered.

“I already know it.”

“Go on, then.” I signalled to the waitress for another round. “Impress me.”

He looked like he was going to refuse for a moment, then shrugged.

“You got married three years ago and three months to the day after the club, uh… got burned. A hundred and sixty people came to the wedding, it was on a boat, and you had a jazz band.”

“She likes a bit of jazz.”

“And the bride wore yellow.”

“Yeah, still not sure if that was a mistake. The local press seemed to like it, though.”

“But you’re here. With me.”

I waved a hand.

“Not my fault. Beyond my control.”

“What did you have in that nasty mind of yours? Both of us shacked up so you can pick and choose?”

“It’s an idea.”

“You’re such a bastard.”

“Hey. You’re the reason she married me.” I sat back, my leg edging nearer to his. “But anyway, that’s not my best news.”

He looked at me properly, and there was real fear there. It made my cock leap.

“You’re having a kid?” he said. I patted his knee.

“I've already got one right here.”

He couldn’t seem to decide if he was pissed off or relieved, but I didn’t let him stew.

“I've gone into the food business. Bought that diner you used to haunt.”

He stared at me.

“What?” I said.

“That’s the sickest thing you have ever done.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right…” I leant over, brushed that silly fringe away with my fingertips and kissed his forehead. “And you know what’s even sicker? I put the deeds in your name.”

After that, the cocktail seemed to kick in very quickly and the kid was angry and relaxed and buzzed all at the same time. He finished off the next three drinks without any complaints, and let me hang my arm around the back of his shoulders while he swore at me. Then he lolled his head against the same arm and gazed at the ceiling, and giggled. Of all the things about him, that was the one that had my nails digging into the seat. I’d missed that stupid fucking giggle. Finally, he told me some of what he’d been up to.

“Just being normal,” he said quietly, letting me inch ever closer to hear him. “And invisible. Not getting the crap beaten out of me, not doing any dope. Oh, and I found God a couple of times.”

“What, you lost him in between?”

“Uh, the first time it turned out I’d just found a randy preacher. Liked to make me atone, round his house, after dark.”

“Well, there’s a lot to atone for.”

“Least I got to keep my pants on - just.” Another kid giggle followed. “Said he liked the feel of cotton under his palm when he rained down the Lord’s punishment. Course, the way he did it, everything used to inch up until it was all bare-assed anyway.” He glanced up at me and I tried not to pass out. “And he had this thing where he’d let his fingers rest on the crack, pressing down so everything, you know, opened up, and all the while he’d be spouting on about some crap or other…”

“You’re such a fucking tease.”

“I know.” His eyes went dark. “I still deserved it, though.”

I figured enough was enough; I tugged a bit of his hair at the nape of the neck and his head fell further back.

“You’re always going to deserve it, which is just dandy by me cause I like doling it out. But if you reckon deserving it lets you off my hook, then I really am going to beat some sense into you.”

“Look what I did…”

“Which bit? The pregnant girlie who barbecued herself? Or the thug that you barbecued? Or poor little me, with a sore ass and no livelihood? You’re a fucking disaster.” This time, in the dark corner, I kissed him on the mouth for the briefest moment when nobody was looking. I pulled away before he noticed I was shaking. “Now come home.”

“I can’t.”

“You want me to beg?”

“You were supposed to be happy, after I’d gone.”

“And I was, but turns out happy isn’t all it’s cracked up.”

The kid shook his head, like he was clearing his vision, and staggered up from the table. A big part of me, or at least a part that was getting bigger by the second, wanted to order him back down. Drag him to the car, take him home and lock him in a cage. With bars, which he could be tied to…

I let him stay standing. He wavered on his feet, so I stood up too, and put a steadying arm around his waist.

“I can’t,” he said again.

“I’ll help you.”

“No…”

“Help you to the john, I mean. If you’re going to puke, you’re not doing it on my shoes. Again.”

We set off, the kid leaning on my arm, me holding him up. On the way past the roulette table, I had an idea that I kept to myself. It only proved what a nasty person I still was.

In the john, I turned on a tap and splashed cold water on the kid’s face, while he clutched the side of the basin. Eventually, he said:

“Ok, better now.”

After a few more minutes, he gave me a funny look. Sort of… wicked. A lot more in control than he was letting on. He pushed open one of the stalls.

“If you want me to come with you, you could always, like, try and persuade me.”

For a stupid second I tried to figure out what he meant, and then it hit me - the little shit was angling for a blowjob. I thought for about a heartbeat, then shoved him into the stall and locked the door. What the hell. At least this time he’d asked first. He braced himself against the shaky walls with one hand and stuffed the other one in his mouth to stop himself from screaming as I knelt down before him and undid the fly on those fashion crime trousers. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath – so still some of the kid left in him, after all – and his cock was out and down my throat before my knees hit the floor. I wondered vaguely if I should make this extremely slow and extremely good, so he’d want to come home, but the taste of him had waved goodbye to my willpower, and the smell of him, fresh from that shower, his groin pressed against my face… I dug my fingers down the back of his trousers and into his soft ass, trying not to think about preachers. He snapped his hips as I clutched a handful of butt cheek and tried to wriggle a finger in deeper – but too late. My mouth was full of him, spilling over with him, and he was collapsed forward on his own knees, resting his forehead on my shoulder. Laughing.

“Well?” I said.

“I’m still not coming back.”

“That’s ok.” I got up and helped him to his feet. “I've all the time in the world.”

He was quiet in the car on the way back to his flat; chewing his thumb like he always did when something was up. I reached over and pulled it out of his mouth.

“What’s the matter with you now?”

“Dunno. Guilty, I guess.”

“Said the murdering arsonist.”

“Not about that. I never think about that.”

“D’you think about what you did to me that night?”

“Sometimes.” He turned a very sly smile on me. “When I’m horny.”

“And I’m the one supposed to be the sick bastard.”

Back in the mouth went the thumb, and this time I slapped it away. Glared at him. He shrugged.

“I've got a girlfriend. You’re married.”

“They get guilt, but I don’t?”

“You get loved.”

It was a good thing the road was empty, because I swerved and almost ran the car along the opposite pavement. When we were safely back on the right side of the road, both my hands on the steering wheel and the kid watching, unperturbed, out of his open window, I said:

“What’s the fucking use of that when you’re here and not where you should be?”

“Just because you like hurting people, doesn’t mean I do.”

We pulled up outside the flat, and I saw the light was still on; it was two in the morning. The kid got out of the car and I thought he was going to disappear inside without looking back, but he stopped and stuck his head through the window. He sighed.

“You’re not going back, are you?”

“Sorry.”

“Which hotel are you at?”

“The one outside your apartment.”

“There isn’t one… oh.” He sighed again. “They’ll do you for loitering if you sleep in the car.”

“Then you better rescue me from jail.”

The kid rolled his eyes and set off for the main door of his block; he held it open for me then started up the stairs.

The cutie wasn’t best pleased to find I was going to be staying in the box room. She didn’t actually say anything, but she made the bed with her shoulders set in a way that made her look like somebody’s pissed off mother. Then she ushered the kid into their own bedroom, and left the door open so I could hear her moans and squeals for the next hour. I lay on the tiny cot – I’d got used to a proper double bed in the last three years – and listened out for the thing that would really worry me, the sound of the kid shouting out her name. He’d always been pretty vocal with mine; there’d been enough amused looks from the staff to know he’d even been heard over the noise of the disco. I used to gag him sometimes, so all I could hear was my name muffled by a piece of gaffer tape. It was like I was forcing him to swallow the thing he most wanted to let out. Sometimes I’d take my dick out of his ass and just let him moan into the gag in frustration, wriggling his butt in the air, desperate for me to come back. The sight and sound of it sent me over in seconds, and the kid just had to lie there with a sticky ass and leaden cock until the spectacle of him got me ready all over again.

I didn’t hear the cutie’s name. I didn’t hear anything from the kid. He was obviously a giver these days.

Just before dawn, I woke up with a familiar ache in my back and a familiar feeling in my bones. The kid was perched on the end of the bed, watching.

“Isn’t this usually the other way round?” I said. “You know - me there, you here…”

The kid didn’t say anything, just carried on watching. I sat up and reached over to twitch a curtain and let some street light in.

“Well, I guess I owe you for the deluxe room.”

I pulled the duvet back and let him look; let him see my dick lying heavy and wet against my thigh, let him watch as I ran my fingers down its length and over my balls. He seemed to stop breathing. I sank down in the bed and rested my feet on the mattress, far apart, so he could see how my fingers stroked my pucker.

“This is you,” I said, crooking a finger and burying it into my warmth. “It’s always you.”

He leant forward slightly, watching the finger. I added another, raising my hips off the mattress slightly so I had better access. Suddenly, the kid was up by my head, reaching for a pillow, and then back by my feet, sliding it under my ass. He took up his spot at the end of the bed, and I set up a quick rhythm as I tried to reach inside and find the place where he’d once been.

“I need more than just me,” I said, but he didn’t move. Just left me to work into myself and think of him. It wasn’t enough, shouldn’t have been enough, but the fact that I was laid open for him, his gaze finally on me – my cock burnt up from the inside and I came without even touching it. As I came, I was aware that he was leaning over me, his hand over my mouth, and I was shouting his name into his palm.

I let my legs stretch out and waited for him to go, because that’s what I’d have done, but he bent his head to my belly and licked my mess with his lovely, pointed tongue until I was clean and shivering. Then he stood up and pulled the duvet back over me.

“Tell me again,” he said, “you were happy for a while.”

“I was.”

“Because of her.”

“Because I wasn’t empty anymore.”

That seem to satisfy him, because he nodded and started for the bedroom door. Then he stopped and said:

“You do get guilt, you know.”

“I don’t want it.”

“But why not?”

“Because you told me once, you’d never ask me to say sorry. That deal works both ways.”

After he’d gone, shutting the door behind him with the softest, guiltiest click, I thought about all the other things he’d said. Like how he wasn’t going anywhere. The kid lied, of course, because he was always going somewhere, always leaving people; I didn’t give a shit, though, because now I knew I was always going with him.

The kid slept in the next morning, so it was just me and the cutie in the dressing gown for coffee. She asked me some pointed questions about how long I was staying, and didn’t I feel twitchy about letting my business run itself. I let her pick at me for a while – I could see she was scared – then I said:

“What’s the kid told you about me?”

She smiled, like it was a victory.

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Not even my name?”

“No.”

I took a nice, big sip of very bad coffee. I was having my own moment of victory, but at the same time I felt bad for her.

“Thing is,” I said as gently as I could, “last night, when he introduced me, you already knew who I was.”

She blinked.

“He told me absolutely nothing.”

“Oh well. You must’ve heard my name in the papers. I think the nationals got hold of the story about my club getting burnt down.”

She nodded. Looked relieved.

“How did you two meet, anyhow?” I went on.

This time she was proud.

“My daddy gave him some money, said he looked down on his luck. But he gave the money back and said he’d rather have a job. So daddy gave him a job at the store.”

I was beginning to see where the kid had found God the second time around – and why he was dressed for church when he was in a casino.

“What does he do at the store?”

“Oh, you know – helps with deliveries, looks after customers, tends register. Said he used to work behind the bar at some club or other – must’ve been yours.”

Could you fucking believe it? At my place he’d been register-retarded, here he’d found God and a work ethic.

I finished the coffee; I could hear the kid stirring down the hall and I wanted to get my head around this girlie before he came in and scrambled my brain.

“Look,” I said, “you don’t like me, I get that. So why did you tell him to come out last night?”

The cutie gave me a level look, like she was impressed I could cut to the chase.

“I was taught you’ve got to face the things that scare you the most.”

I made a mental note never to underestimate cuties in dressing gowns.

“I’m sorry if I scare you.” And I really was. “But there’s a lot you don’t know. Like just who he really is. And how he’s the one to be scared of.”

“I don’t care.”

“You should.”

She shrugged. Drew the dressing gown tighter around her plump belly, and I felt a wave of tenderness for her soft body and strong little heart.

“I’m praying,” she said quietly, because the kid was padding into the bathroom now, yawning loudly, “I’m praying that you will mess this up all by yourself.”

“I probably will.” I stood up and took her empty cup and mine to the sink. “But it’ll still be my name he’s yelling out when he comes, even if it’s you sitting on his dick. How’s that going to feel in twenty years’ time?”

It was the kid’s Saturday off – which apparently didn’t come round that often - and they’d planned to go shopping, then round to her parents for a big lunch. The cutie said she’d go on her own if the kid wanted to spend some time with his ‘old boss’; but two could play at that game, and I sent them both packing. The kid looked somewhere midway between relieved and disappointed, leaning more to the disappointed, so I brightened him up with a promise that I’d take them out that night and let them spend my hard-earned cash. As he followed his girlfriend out of the door, who’d very reluctantly left me a key, I pulled him back and kissed him, letting my hand stroke his heavy cock through yet another pair of terrible trousers. He squirmed a bit, but didn’t stop me. When I pulled away, he was watching my face very carefully. I let him find what he wanted.

“Is that how I used to look at you?” he said eventually.

“Maybe. It used to make me want to hit you.”

“You wanted to hit me most of the time.”

“You looked at me like this most of the time.”

He scanned my face for a moment longer; then I covered his eyes with my hand and leant back in. Gave him another, blind kiss.

“Have fun at the mall,” I whispered, as we both listened to the sound of the cutie’s footsteps coming back up the stairs to check where he was. I slipped a bunch of dollars into his tight little pocket. “And for God’s sake, buy yourself something half-decent to wear.”

While they were gone, I went and got myself breakfast at some shitty café and took a peek at the famous store that had supported the kid and his fuck for the last year. It was a big hardware store. All the assistants wore day-glo trousers and an apron, and some of them wore caps. I wandered up and down the aisles, trying to imagine my kid in nothing but an apron and a cap, hammering things. Or painting things. Then I took off the apron, left the cap on, and let him paint a picket fence round some sweet house-on-the-prairie kind of place. The sun was beating down on his bare back, and the white paint was splashing onto his legs and chest. He was sweating with the heat.

I bought some gaffer tape – present for the kid - and went back to the flat; then lay on their small double bed and jacked off to the smell of his shampoo on the pillow… and her sharp perfume.

When they got back late in the afternoon, the kid was wearing jeans – expensive ones – and had more carrier bags in his arms. His girlfriend was wearing a worried face that made her look sour and older than she was. She spent a long time getting ready to go out, and when she came out of the bathroom she was pretty and plump and shiny… and still ordinary. I took her hand and led her down to the car, letting the kid lock up.

“We’ll have fun,” I said. “I promise.”

“I wish you’d just disappear.”

“I know.”

“You don’t own him.”

I patted her arm and helped her into the car.

“He was mine before he even saw me. Just ask him.”

She didn’t, of course. She sat silent and miserable in the front seat, while the kid – glossy in his new get-up – chatted away in the back about anything that came into his head. He was excited, and trying not to show it. Trying so hard that he had no fucking clue that his girlie had him sussed, and that he was breaking her heart.

My fault, but not my problem.

I took them back to the casino, which at least had a restaurant with a two-hundred dollar wine list, and got the best table in the house, overlooking the casino floor. The kid’s eyes were everywhere, watching the people who, in this town, passed for glamorous. Some of them were watching him back.

The cutie wrinkled her brow as she looked down.

“Gambling’s not right.”

“Neither is living in sin,” I pointed out. “But you’ve no problem doing that.”

The kid gave me a warning look, so I handed him the menu and said:

“Knock yourself out. As long as it’s not more than thirty bucks.”

He stuck his tongue out and promptly ordered a cola that cost thirty bucks from the waitress hovering by the table.

“And whatever the most expensive thing on the menu is.”

“It’s scallops.”

I grinned. The kid had a thing about sea food; it made him itch.

“I’ll have the scallops,” he said. His girlfriend hesitated, wanting to shove the menu down my throat and at the same time really wanting to order something spectacular. The kid nodded at her – it’s ok, go on – but she still didn’t choose.

“I tell you what,” I said, taking the menu out of her hand, “we’ll have one of everything.”

The waitress looked at the cutie in her pretty dress that showed off her chest; the kid, who still managed to look like a whore in his new clothes, even if it was a well-paid one; then she looked at me, taking in my suit and my watch and even, somehow, my shoes, then said:

“I’ll bring you some champagne while you’re waiting.”

“Excellent idea. I’ll have French.”

I toasted old acquaintance with the widow, then toasted new acquaintance so the cutie wouldn’t feel left out. She’d never had champagne before, because she drank too deep and too quick on an empty stomach; the kid had only ever had it when it was me dribbling it out of the bottle and into his open mouth. If he spilt any, it would be the empty bottle inching up his ass instead of my dick. He got real good at swallowing on his back. Now, he took a mouthful and tipped his head back, letting it trickle down his throat. It made him look like something out of a Roman orgy. His girlfriend stared at him like she didn’t know who the hell he was. Truth was, she didn’t.

When the food arrived, she was already too high on the champagne to eat anything. The kid was just high enough to take a bite of scallop, pull a disgusted face, then reached for the steak that I was carving up on my own plate. He speared a forkful, wolfed it down, came back for another, then another; anything he ate after that came from my plate. The cutie tried to get him to eat some of her food, but he didn’t want it. Didn’t even see what he was doing. She glanced at me and I knew she got it – he ate what I fed him, drank what I poured into his mouth. Looking at it through her eyes, I began to lose my appetite until eventually, the two of us just sat there, watching him eat whatever I cut up for him. Finally, I pushed the plate out of his reach.

“That’s enough.”

He shrugged and went for another glass of champagne. I tapped his hand with a finger.

“Drink your thirty dollar coke, or I’ll pour it over your head.”

He drank it. His girlfriend pushed her chair back and stood up, and she was breathing hard like she was angry and upset. I stood up too, and took her arm. She was too fuzzy with champagne to do more than try and shake me off, and that was half-hearted. I nodded at the kid.

“You, stay put while I show baby doll here how to lose some money.”

The kid looked peeved, and just a bit worried, like he couldn’t work out who to be jealous of. He really was still just a kid sometimes, and though the thought of it made my cock twitch in my pants, it wasn’t for me to make him feel young and lost. I could do that without even trying. So I gave him the menu and told him – no, asked him - to choose us all a dessert, and we left him chewing his lip and studying a long list of things with French names.

Coming down the stairs, resting on my arm, the cutie said:

“I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. You have to.”

“But why?”

“Because he has to choose. Then you’ll know I didn’t take him away – he went by himself.”

She stopped for a second, and I think she was holding back tears.

“You’re so mean,” she said, her voice just steady. “So… ugly. I don’t know why he wants you.”

“Me neither. But I’ll tell you what, I’ll make it quick.”

“How?”

“Come and spend all my money, and I’ll tell you.”

I gave her a thousand dollar’s worth of chips to lose and took her to every table in the house. She somehow managed to make money, betting tiny amounts and hoarding the winnings, until I lost patience and began to throw her chips at the dealers. By now, she was laughing some, as if seeing someone literally throwing money away was a novelty that made her drunk. Especially as she kept on winning, and after an hour we were still pretty much even. I changed the chips back into cash and tucked it into her cleavage, and she looked shocked. She kept the money, though.

I took her back up to the restaurant, and she was giggling and relaxed – and ravenous.

“Your girlie’s a good luck charm,” I told the kid, who was sitting in front of three spectacular desserts, looking pissed off. His girlfriend slid into her seat and started on the nearest confection, telling him through a mouthful:

“I won.”

I poured some more champagne.

“But that’s not the final bet, is it sweetheart?”

She got serious suddenly. Turned to the kid.

“We had a talk, about the problem with you.”

“What problem?” The kid glared at me. “What the fuck have you been saying?”

“Nothing she hadn’t already figured out.”

This time, the kid glared at his girlfriend.

“Come on,” I said, “don’t take her for an idiot. We’ve sorted it, anyway.” I took a casino chip out of my pocket – one worth another thousand dollars – and gave it to the kid. He rolled it around in his palm.

“I don’t get it.”

“You go downstairs, put it on any number, any colour you want on the roulette table. If you win, I leave tonight. Stay in a hotel, drive back tomorrow, never to darken your dreary little doorstep again.”

The kid’s face didn’t flicker.

“And if I don’t?”

“I still leave. Only first, I get twenty four hours, with each of you – and in those twenty four hours, I own your ass.”

The kid put the chip on the table and started to get up.

“I didn’t reckon it was possible, but you just managed to sink to a new low.”

“Do as he says.” The cutie didn’t look up, just kept spooning dessert in. Her face was dark red.

“You’re drunk,” said the kid. “This is what he does, you know, mixes you up and you don’t know what -,”

“Do it.” Now she looked up. “And if he wins, it’ll still be better spending twenty four hours with him than you. At least he doesn’t lie.”

“I never lied.”

“You never told me the truth.”

They glared at each other for a moment, until I felt sorry for them and said:

“Look, either way you’ll be rid of me. It’s a win-win, only with any luck I’ll get some fun, too. And I’ll look after baby doll so she doesn’t cry.”

The kid hesitated, then picked up the chip and set off down the stairs to the roulette table.

Of course, I won. Even if I’d lost, I’d have won in the end, because the kid was already leaving his cutie. She just hadn’t cottoned on, yet. All I was doing was making sure he was headed in my direction, rather than some other dull town with a lot of churches and another hopeful girl; that would just mean I had to follow him. I was, as I told his girlfriend, making it quick for us all.

Once we saw the thousand dollar chip get swept up by the croupier, the cutie sat back in her chair and smiled, like there was a weight off her shoulders. Nothing more she could, or needed to do. I gave her a hug, and she let me kiss her properly. She tasted of sugar.

“It’s Sunday tomorrow,” I said, running my hand over those titties that were starting to fascinate me, “so I’ll have him from eight in the morning and you can stop at your parents’. You’ll have to take Monday off work.”

She nodded. Didn’t murmur when I dipped a finger below her bra line and rubbed circles on her nipples. Sighed, even, like she was giving herself up to the devil. I dropped a kiss on each of the mounds of flesh that were visible. I’d never been one for curves – though I liked any the kid had – but I was starting to find all that flesh of hers intoxicating. I took out my credit card and slipped that into her cleavage like it was my favourite place to leave things.

“Go and have yourselves a ball, and I’ll see him in the morning.”

She got up, gave me a lovely kiss which almost had me deciding to swap their days over, and left. I ordered more champagne. It had never been my plan to get the girlie involved, not when I’d come up with the idea the night before. But I hadn’t known her then, and I’d just figured that I’d get the kid to bet on me leaving alone or with him buckled into the passenger seat. I’d told him I had all the time in the world, but it didn’t mean I was prepared to take it. The business man in me just couldn’t hack the waiting around. Now, though, I felt an odd sort of obligation to the girlfriend, as if I had to show her the truth instead of just telling her. Apparently, in my cockeyed, sick version of life, that meant screwing her boyfriend for a day then, probably, screwing her.

The other truth of it was that I was scared. The kid was an unknown: sometimes he was the one I remembered, random and excited, sometimes he was my slave, eating the food off my plate, sometimes he hated me. I wanted to get a handle on him, see what I was letting myself in for. See if I was going to have to lock him up when we got home until it was safe to let him out again.

The door to the flat closed at seven fifty nine the next morning, and me and the kid were alone. I got up and went into his bedroom, where he was just a curled shape under the duvet, and crawled in next to him. I’d over done the champagne. The kid stiffened when he felt my nakedness next to his skin. I ran my hands down his back to his bare ass, and cupped each cheek gently.

“You’re still pissed at me?”

“I hate you.”

I reached for his balls and rubbed them; they were hard and hot.

“D’you hate me enough to leave?”

My other hand began to massage the top of his cock, rubbing his wetness back into the head until he was shifting back against me.

“If I leave, then you never will.”

“So it’s best for all of us if you just grin and bear it.”

I pulled him flat on his back and pulled the duvet off so I could look properly. There were the knife scars marking his chest in neat, faint lines; the places where the bruising used to be. And there was his cock. I bent down and kissed its tip, letting my teeth dig in until he moaned. Then I covered him with my body and looked into his face.

“If you think you’re getting another blow job, then you’ve got no idea what owning your ass actually means.”

“You gave me enough practice at the club.”

“But you’ve forgotten. You need teaching again. Instructing.”

“Surprise, surprise.”

“Oh, baby,” I said, taking a bite at his bottom lip, “you have no idea what surprises Daddy’s got in store.”

The first surprise was the bathroom; he wasn’t expecting me to follow him in and watch him while he took a piss. He smiled, a bit embarrassed.

“I can’t do it properly with you looking.”

“Today I’m looking all the time, so get used to it.”

“Even when…?”

“Even that. God knows, I've seen enough of your insides already. Seeing you crap won’t be such a big deal.”

“You make it sound real sexy.”

“This isn’t about sexy. This is about me, owning you.”

Once the kid had managed a crooked pee, I made him bend over the sink with his legs apart while I sponged him down. Completely unnecessary when ten minutes later I got into the shower and dragged him in with me. I washed his hair, massaging tight circles in his scalp and holding his head under the jet of water until he was coughing; then I soaped his ass again and pushed him against the cold tiles while I enjoyed my first fuck of the day.

“Daddy doesn’t want you to come,” I said as I slithered in and out of him lazily. And he didn’t.

I dried him with one of the girlie’s towels, big and fluffy and pink, and took him and his hard-on back into the bedroom. I went through the chest of drawers until I found the one with the girlie’s lacy bits, and he never said a word when I held up a silky g-string.

“So this is what she wears under that dressing gown?”

This time, he looked like he was going to burst with loathing. I threw the g-string at him, and he put it on; his dick peeked out of the top, leaving wet patches on the silk. I made him turn round and bend over, and his balls crowded out of the sides of the pussy part. The string was tight against his pucker. I had to sit down on the bed before all the blood disappeared from my brain, then I made him stand in front of me while I ran my hand along the g-string elastic and over the top of that pretty dick until he was begging me to let him be.

“You know, if you can’t be quiet, Daddy’s going to have to make you,” I said, producing the gaffer tape that I’d got from his store. His eyes widened, and he shut up. I wasn’t disappointed because I liked to see his mouth, open and wet. Time enough to truss him up good and tight, plug up all the holes and hear him try to scream my name.

A further inspection of the lacy bits drawer came up with a surprise for me this time – a strap-on, big and black, made to fit the cutie’s ample waist. I held it against my own dick; the strap-on was more of a man by far. No wonder the cutie had hated me on sight. I poked the kid in the belly with it.

“Been missing Daddy?”

“Stop it.”

I slapped his face and he took a step back.

“Do you want me to explain this owning you thing again?”

He shook his head.

“Good. Just because you’re wearing girl’s panties, doesn’t mean I’m going to spoil you. Now get on that bed and get that pretty butt in the air. Daddy’s going to fuck you with your toy.”

I creamed him up with some of the girlie’s moisturiser, so he smelt like her, and put the strap-on round my waist and somehow got it over my uncomfortably heavy dick. This was the most fucked-up thing I’d done in three years, screwing a boy, dressed like a girl, with a prick that belonged to a girl. Didn’t stop me from enjoying the sight of that girl’s black prick vanishing past the g-string – taking some of it for the ride so it was stretched to snapping point over his cock and balls. And it didn’t stop me coming over the strap-on with its funny little bit for her, leaving my smell on the leather. The kid still wasn’t allowed to come, and he didn’t; he just shuddered into the pillow as I reached inside, and whispered my name.

I made him leave on the sodden bit of silk, took him into the kitchen, made some coffee and let him take sips from my cup; found a box of oat porridge unopened in the cupboard and fed it to him spoon by spoon. He pulled a face and I said:

“Just be grateful it’s not loaded with tranquilisers.”

He had the grace to look guilty, and let me spoon the rest into his reluctant, cherry mouth without another murmur.

“You give yourself up so easily,” I said, wiping smears of porridge from around his mouth. “Too easily.”

“That’s kind of the deal, from where I’m sitting.”

“On a chair, when it should be the floor.”

He slid off the chair and sat at my feet. I gave him another sip of coffee.

“And I wasn’t talking about today, though you do look such a lovely slut down there.” He frowned at me furiously, and I patted his head. “I meant like last night.”

“Huh?”

“You upset your girlie, you know. At dinner.”

He stared at me blankly and I sighed.

“You don’t even know your doing it, you just hand your pretty self over. All of you. You shouldn’t, though.”

He went quiet for a while, thinking. Rested his head against my leg while I pulled out single strands of his hair and made a little pile of them on the table for his girlie to find. Finally, he said:

“You make things so easy.”

“I know, baby.”

“You never ask me to do anything.”

“Oh, so this isn’t asking?”

He turned his lovely face to me, let me see his big eyes.

“No, it’s telling.”

I pulled him onto my lap – couldn’t leave him down there on a dirty, cold floor - and stroked his cock until it was wet again. He buried his face in my shoulder.

“I’m real tired.”

“I know.”

“I’m always tired. Like, even when I get up in the morning. Everything feels slow inside.”

“Am I waking you up?”

I ran my thumb across his slit, which was gushing like a spring. He bit my shoulder and went rigid, until the moment passed. I took that for a sure sign I was waking him up. I pulled his g-string to one side and sat him on my dick, which somehow kept managing to rally round at the sight of his pink hole, though if I didn’t give it a rest soon I was surely heading for a heart attack. Three years, though. I hadn’t even stopped to think in the shower, I was so busy cramming myself into him. Now, the wonder that he was here, undulating on my lap with his head thrown back and his prick streaming over his belly – I just knew the girlie was right, and I was going to fuck it up all by myself. All I had to do was show him he didn’t have to worry anymore, because I had it under control. He didn’t have to do anything but arrange himself on my dick and call me Daddy from time to time. Carry on eating from my plate.

“Get off.” I shoved him off my lap and he fell forward onto his knees. Stared back at me, upset, even though he was supposed to be hating this. I kicked him in the ribs, which made him drop to his hands and pant. I squatted down in front of him and grabbed his hair, lifting his face up to mine.

“It’s not about me making it easy. You had that, and you left me.” He tried to twist out of my grasp, and I hit him. “You come back, and you’re not leaving me again. I’ll make fucking sure of that.”

Suddenly, the kid lashed out and caught my jaw with a punch. I fell back on my ass, and thought – here we go again. But the kid stayed put, rubbing his hand. He looked scared – of himself. I laughed.

“She really doesn’t know you at all, does she?”

“Don’t talk about her.”

I crawled over and fitted myself around him, arms around his chest, my legs over his. Even thought he was angry, wanted to hit me again, he let me hold him. I stroked the line from the hollow of his neck to his dick until he began to relax.

“You’re not the same kid, are you?” I said. “You want to be, but you can’t.”

“Then why are you making me do this?”

“To find out who you can be. And to see if you’re still my kid.”

I screwed him nice and slow, with him bent over the sofa in the lounge, the g-string in a puddle at his feet. This way I could take my time, hold open his ass cheeks and watch my cock get swallowed up. He kept quiet, though his own cock was still diamond hard; all I could hear were his little gasps of breath as I pushed inside. When I knew I was coming – and it was a little slower than the first two times, even with the best will in the world – I pulled out of him and turned him round. Came in his mouth, which was gloriously hot, and watched him close his eyes to what was happening.

“Don’t,” I said. “Please.”

His eyes snapped open, and he let me see him as he drank me down. Then he sat back on his heels and watched me as I collected my wits.

“If I’m a good boy,” he said sweetly, tapping his cock, “do I get to do something with this?”

He really wasn’t the same kid.

“Maybe, if you do as Daddy tells you.”

He glanced at the clock, which still only said quarter to eleven.

“I think I’m missing Sunday school.”

“You’re ill.”

By now, he was smiling that lovely kid smile.

“Oh… gonna check my temperature?”

“Sure am.”

We laid him face down on the bed, with a pillow underneath to raise his butt, and I had a fun half hour with a thermometer that was cold from the fridge. I wasn’t sure about his temperature, so I had to keep checking, and he wriggled and sighed each time the icy glass went in to be warmed by his own heat. It kept slipping out, so I held his butt cheeks together and pressed circles into them so they rose and dimpled under my fingers like something baking in the oven. Then I licked his poor, used hole and turned him over.

“Daddy’s decided, definitely no Sunday school. You’ll have to have your lessons at home.”

We decided to skip the lessons, seeing as I’d never been to church and the kid never listened when he actually was there.

“My mind kind of drifts,” he said, resting over my knee and shuddering as I gave him tiny, sharp slaps over the softest bit of his ass.

“Where does it drift to?”

He flinched as I moved higher, to his flank. Waited for me to redden across the top of his crack before he answered:

“Some place that doesn’t even exist anymore.”

“Things get rebuilt.”

“But not the same.”

“No,” I said, trailing a finger along the fine hair that pooled in the small of his back. “They’re better. Now open your legs a bit so I can see inside your naughty ass.”

He cranked them open, and I looked good and long, placing my thumb on his pucker until he said:

“You know how you said you were going to look at everything today?”

“And I meant it.”

“Oh.”

I nudged him off my knee and went into the kitchen; came back with a salad bowl. He backed away.

“You have got to be kidding.”

“Daddy’s waiting. And I thought you didn’t mind about this kind of thing.”

“That was before.”

After some more hedging, the kid finally knelt down over the bowl, looking miserable. I stood behind him.

“D’you want me to give you something to speed things up?”

He gave me a vicious look.

“Is that what that guy used to say to you?”

“No, because I never made him hang around. And anyway, he did worse things. You’re getting off lightly.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s ok, because I love you enough for the both of us.”

The kid got on with it, cried afterwards, and I made a mental note never to put either of us through it again. Really not my bag; but at least now I knew why the mad bastard had put me through it. He wasn’t obsessed with my insides, he was just obsessed with me. Get me to do the nastiest things he could think of, and it stood to reason that I was completely his. Didn’t work, of course. But the kid – still crying another half an hour later in the bath – had given up something more of himself. He’d lost some of that hard edge he’d been carrying around, let me kiss him gently and push his hair behind his ears. I held his face in my hands.

“It’s a shame you don’t lose it anymore when I kiss you.”

“I told you, you get guilt.”

“And my mouth on yours is what makes you guilty?”

The kid sniffed, letting his chin rest in my cupped hands.

“It’s the nicest thing we ever did.”

I let him soak in the bath – he was going to be the cleanest whore in the world at this rate – while I rifled through the vanity unit.

“Here,” I said, chucking his girlie’s pink razor at him, “think you can shave your legs without bleeding to death?”

“If I can use the razor to slit your throat after.”

“Yeah…” I pulled a tube of cream from the back of the unit and held it out to him. “Your choice – wax or this shower-off shit. It’d make me proud if you went for the wax.”

He glared at me and I left the tube by the side of the bath. Once his legs were shiny smooth – with a few cuts around the ankles, because apparently it was his first time – I smeared the funny-smelling cream over all the places where his hair was tight and curly, up the crack and round his balls, and I had a pleasant fifteen minutes watching him stand still as a statue while all his hair crinkled up. I showered it off for him, then took him into the bedroom and stood him in front of the only full-length mirror in the flat. He stared as I slipped my arms around his waist and lifted his balls to show him how smooth everything was.

“Now you really are my baby boy,” I said, turning him round and thumbing his ass cheeks open. He craned his neck to see the reflection behind him, and I felt his prick nudge my belly. I leaned into it, crushing it between us.

“I’d screw you if I could manage it. In front of the mirror, so you could see your face.”

He just couldn’t help himself, and glanced over at the bed, where the strap-on was lying discarded. I grinned – at least this time there was no fear of my dick getting in the way.

“Go on, then. Get your toy for Daddy.”

He scurried off, bringing lube back with him; put his toy on me with a face full of loathing and love, then creamed it up. He turned his back to me, stood on his toes and lifted himself on, watching in the mirror as his mouth made a circle and his face flushed red. His arms reached back around my neck and I saw the moment the sheer sight of himself, resting his cheek against mine, sent him over. It was almost a shame, because I’d wanted to make him hold himself, come over his own fingers then watch himself lick it off, but his body was all loose and happy against mine and he didn’t move for another long while. Just watched us both in the mirror until I nipped his shoulder and said:

“It’s lunchtime, baby. We’ve got things to do.”

I dressed him in a lacy g-string this time, stroking his cock and balls through the tight material.

“She’s got a dirty streak, your girlie.”

“I said, don’t talk about her.”

“I’m going to see all her secrets tomorrow anyway.”

He looked like he might hit me again, so I caught his wrist before he thought about it, and dropped a kiss on his clenched fist.

“I’m sorry.”

He was surprised. Let his fist uncurl, and I put another kiss in his palm.

“I’m jealous of her, that’s all. And a little bit in love with her. She’s so…”

“Strong?”

“And soft, too. Like she’s going to wrap you up in all that flesh.” I held out a pair of new jeans for him to step into and pulled them up around his waist, doing up the buttons for him. They rode low, like he liked them, and I could see the g-string sat tight on his hips. “Is that what she does to you, baby? Wrap you up inside her, give you somewhere to lay your weary little head?”

“I want to stay with her.”

“I know.” I pulled a t-shirt over his head, pushing his hands through the arm holes. “You can’t, though. You’ll just ruin her.”

“But why?”

“You’ve only been with her, what – a year? A lovely girl like that and already you’ve got her screwing some nasty bastard to try and make you stay.” He started to say something, but I put a finger to his lips. “And if it isn’t me, then it’ll be one of those rich bastards at the casino, who were ready to bet a few thousand dollars on your ass, only you never realised. One guy asked me, you know. Were you for sale or rent. He reckoned you’d make his wife a nice birthday present. I got his number, just in case.”

“You’re the one took me there.”

“Baby, you’re a magnificent slut and everybody who sees you knows it. You’re a magnet for mean people - you even managed to find the rotten egg in the preacher basket. Don’t drag the cutie down with you.”

“But it’s ok for me to drag you down.”

“I’m already at the bottom.” I sat him on the bed and put on his socks and boots. “You pull me up.”

I put him in the car and drove him out of town, until we were an hour along an empty road with nothing but fields before and after. I wanted it to be just him and me for a while, no girlie hovering in the background, no ordinary flat hemming us in. I called my wife on the cell and told her I’d be back Tuesday; she told me my detective had called, wanting to know where I was. She was pissed off that she couldn’t even tell him. We argued back and forth for a bit while the kid bit his thumb, then I told her I loved her and she said:

“You don’t know what it means.”

I glanced over at the kid.

“I know what obsession means.”

“Yeah, and I think I’m getting over my obsession with you.”

She hung up. I took the kid’s thumb out of his mouth.

“It’s not your fault.”

“She was real nice to me, once.”

“Was that the time you tried to kill me?”

He shut up after that.

“Tell you what,” I said, trying to wipe the frown off his face, “you get to choose one thing to do. As long as it isn’t doctors and nurses again, because I haven’t brought any paper aprons.”

That raised a small smile.

“I looked good in that thing. You never saw me.”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing you in your hardware store pinny. I bet that ties up nice and tight round the back.”

By now he was smiling big time.

“You know, when I get bored at the store, I start imagining you in that paper thing. With your butt hanging out for me to spank, and your cock trying to poke a hole through it.”

His words went straight to the usual place, and I shifted in my seat.

“Anything else you imagine?”

“That time you wouldn’t let me have the bouncy male nurse? I let him tell you off for being so mean. You look real good balanced on his dick. And sometimes I add in that guy you hate so much – the one who popped your cherry, right? – and he likes to come in your mouth while you’re all filled up with nurse. Oh, and he looks like my old school principal. And sometimes he has a whip.”

“And where are you in all this?”

“Watching.” He stretched out his legs and rubbed his cock lazily. “Can we do something normal for once?”

“Like what? It’s Sunday – hey, we could visit my parents. I think they live around here someplace…”

“You don’t know where your parents live?”

“You don’t even have parents.”

“I might…”

“You were put on this earth a fully-grown tease for me to play with. Just accept it. And why d’you want to do normal, when you do that everyday with the girlie?”

“Because with you it feels really dirty.”

“Ok, we’ll do normal. But only if you tell me what else you imagine at work, because I’m enjoying the sharing.”

He looked at me oddly, like this was something new.

“Ok. There’s this one thing I have where me and your girlfriend – wife – decide to share you, and you get to use your tongue while I get to use your ass. Then we take it in turns to hurt you. Like, stick one of her stilettos up your ass. Nice and nasty.”

“You like to punish me, don’t you?”

“Always. Can I ask you something?”

I nodded.

“You said, back in your room that first night, you said the deal cuts both ways.”

“Yes.”

“So, if you own me, does that mean I own you?”

“Yes.”

He thought on it for a while, then took my hand off the steering wheel and put it on his cock, which was up and at it again under his jeans.

“In that case, I think you need to pull the car over.”

I knew I had him then, of course. He was finally catching on, and when he properly understood how things had to be, I’d be safe to take him home. Only, I was going to have to figure out where home was, because I knew full well why my detective was trying to track me down. He wanted to tick some of those boxes that were still keeping him up at night.

Time enough to deal with that. I was a clever sod, I’d think of something.

I stopped the car on the dusty verge and we were all alone in the middle of nowhere. The kid just sat there, using my hand to fondle his prick under those jeans, staring at the long, empty road ahead.

“You can see anyone coming for miles,” he said.

“If you needed to.”

“Oh, you’re definitely going to need to.” He pushed my hand away. “Get out of the car.”

I went and stood at the side of the road, and he climbed into the driver’s seat. Wound down the window and said:

“Take everything off, and give it to me.”

Bloody good thing it was a warm spring this year. I peeled off my shirt and jeans, boots – everything – and handed them through the window. The breeze of fresh air made my flesh goose, and my poor, brave dick shrivel small. The kid gave me an appraising look.

“Ok, start walking.”

“How far?”

“Until I can’t see your butt crack clearly.”

So I started walking. And it hurt, so I walked down the middle of the road, listening to the sounds of a tractor working in the far-off distance. I think I walked for a good twenty minutes, feeling the kid’s eyes on me all the way. Finally, I heard the car engine start, and I moved to the side of the road and kept walking, slower. After a while, the car was keeping pace with me and the kid was leaning out the window.

“D’you need a ride?”

“In more ways than one.”

He grinned, sheer naughtiness.

“How are you gonna pay for the gas?”

“My face is my fortune.”

He gave me an unfathomable look.

“Yeah, it really is.”

He reached behind him and opened the door to the back seat, and I got in while the car was still moving. I think he just liked making me run, and watching me in the wing mirror. Once I was in, he carried on driving and said:

“Do that thing again, where you pretend it’s me inside you.” I began to stretch out on the back seat, but he stopped me. “Sit up and turn round, so I can see your ass.”

I did as I was told, and leant my forehead on the back shelf as I pushed a finger in deep. The car hit the only bump in the road, and I struggled to stay upright. The kid sighed.

“You did that on purpose,” I said, looking round and seeing that he was driving with his eyes firmly fixed on the rear view mirror. He didn’t answer, just pulled the car over and got out. Before I knew what was happening, he was on the back seat with me pinned underneath him, his hands holding my hands against the car door, his clothes chafing against my skin. He kissed me like he used to, like he wanted to devour me; bit my jaw and chin with sharp little teeth; tipped my head back and dipped his tongue into the hollow of my neck.

“Turn over,” he whispered, but managing to make it sound like an order. “Turn over so I can hurt you.”

Even if I hadn’t wanted to, I would’ve had no choice, because as he spoke he was grabbing at my waist and flipping me over. Lifting my knees so I was kneeling with my ass in the air and my face buried in the corner of the leather seats. I felt his tongue wriggle into me, followed by fingers and then, at last, his cock – long and slow, making me ache for every inch.

“Jesus fuck…” He stilled for a moment, and I swear I felt him grow thicker inside me, felt the blood pumping through him. “Does that hurt?”

“Yes.”

It really did.

“D’you want me to make it hurt more?”

“Why the fuck d’you think I followed you here?”

That seemed to be all the encouragement he needed, and he began driving his dick in and out of me, moaning every time I shouted out with pain.

“No free rides,” he said as my shouts became a low, continuous intake of breath. “Gonna make you pay.”

I think I began to sob; I was in too much pain to do anything but feel. And at the end of that pain, there was him, shuddering and sweating behind me. Digging his nails into my hips until he was drawing blood.

Suddenly, he was out of me. I stayed where he’d put me, tears blinding my vision.

“Get up,” he said, voice still strong even if his body wasn’t. I sat up slowly, gingerly. He was leaning back against the far door and shaking with the effort of not going over, his beautiful prick poking out of the fly on his jeans. I wanted to kiss it, lay it against my face like he used to with mine. But he was opening the door and dragging me with him. Pulling off his clothes and putting his new leather jacket – courtesy of me – on the stony, dusty ground. When he was as naked as I was he took my hand and tugged me to the ground.

“How do you want it?” he said.

“Don’t give a shit, so long as it’s you.”

“Then find a way to pay for your ride, and make it good.”

I found a way. Sitting on his cock first one way, and then the other, so he could run a finger up and down my spine or my belly. I made him wait as I slid down him, letting him see when he finally touched my sweet spot. Holding nothing back, just like I hadn’t when he’d hurt me. He held my dick and waited until I shot over his tight fist, then let me work him with my ass to boiling point. When he was ready, he jammed that same fist into his mouth, tasting me as he bucked underneath my body and filled me up.

“Like a gas tank,” he giggled afterwards, as he pulled me back into the car and we hid from the truck that had been heading our way for over an hour. It rumbled past, the driver peering in, and we sank lower into the back seat. He rested his head on my lap and looked up at me.

“When you come like that, I want to give you everything.”

“How d’you think I got the deeds to that bar?” I ran a hand through his damp hair. “And you haven’t got anything to give me, apart from prick, balls and pucker and…”

“And what?”

“The truth.”

He closed his eyes.

“You already know everything.”

“Don’t lie.”

“Ok, ask away.”

I smiled down at his lovely face.

“You were going to kill me, weren’t you? That night. You were going to torch the club with you and me in it.”

He kept his eyes closed and let the moment stretch out.

“You kept telling me, back at your place, to stop it. Stick a knife in the past. I lost it so bad when you hit me, it was the only way I could think of.”

“What changed your crazy little mind?”

“You cried.”

“In that case, I’ll make sure I cry a lot.”

He opened his eyes, and I saw a glimpse of that old, unwanted adoration. I welcomed it back with a kiss, which made him perk up beautifully.

“At first,” he said when I let him be, “I was just going to get you back with your girlfriend, then leave. And after, the next day, I was going to… uh…”

“Follow in the footsteps of your pregnant girlie?”

“Yeah, well… it seemed like a good idea at the time. I felt kind of guilty, you know?”

“And then…?”

“Oh, then I did what I should’ve done a long time ago.” He reached a hand up to my face and pulled me down. “I set you free. Now kiss me and make me come.”

You’d think I’d have been more freaked, really - I’d been piecing things together for three years and still I’d not realised how close I’d come to getting what I so richly deserved. I’d asked on a hunch, nothing more; even now all I could make out was that sometime during that night he’d thought burning us both to death was a clever idea, and that I’d survived it by the skin of my teeth. Or the tears on my cheek. Whichever – I was the one who’d driven him to it. Another, better man would’ve left the kid well alone… would’ve called the cops on that first night he broke into my office, and let somebody else with a real heart and a real soul deal with that pretty, bleeding piece of flesh.

See? Shakespeare again.

It was the kid’s bad luck he’d found me, possibly the only fuck alive who couldn’t tell – or care - that he was cracking up. And it was worse luck for the bastard lying six feet under, with his tattoos all scorched and melted. There was no making sense of the kid’s mind, when all was said and done. He was beating himself up for something he hadn’t even done, not the fucked up things he had.

I kissed the kid for what seemed like hours, until the sun was starting to sink low and he had come just once more, his dick tucked into my hand. He wasn’t what he used to be, but then he wasn’t crazy anymore, either. Eventually I held out my messy fingers and he licked himself off them, and I said:

“Get dressed. We’re going to be late.”

“For what?”

I slapped his butt.

“Did Daddy say you got to ask questions?”

“But what about doing something normal?”

“After. And don’t even think about leaving off that nice lacy piece, because it’s part of the bargain.”

He frowned, but wriggled into the g-string anyways. I drove for another while, until a biggish house, more of a ranch, really, loomed in the distance. The lights were on and I turned down the long drive way. His eyes got very big and worried.

“What’s going on?”

“You know how I said I met a guy at the casino, took his number?”

“No way…”

“Turns out I got his address, too.”

I parked the car and got out, went round and opened the kid’s door. A light turned on in the porch, and the kid shrank back.

“I don’t want to.”

“What’s the problem?” I held out my hand to him. “It’s not like you haven’t done this before.”

“Only with you.”

I laughed at that one.

“You’re trying to tell me I’m the only person ever paid you for sex?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sense of humour’s got better over the last three years.”

“No, I’m not lying.” He was so far into the car seat by now that I had to lean in to hear him. “I never needed to – I stole instead. You saw me at the club. I was good at it.”

“So why make me pay for the dubious pleasure of your tush?”

“Because it was the only way I could get you to have sex with me.”

“That’s some very fucked up logic.”

“You only ever wanted a rent boy. So I gave you one.”

He was probably right. I held out my hand again and beckoned to him.

“Ah well. Young people have got to try new things.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“Then I’ll drive you back to that little box you live in, and leave you there.”

He stared at me, the colour drained from his face, then took my hand and stood up.

“Good boy,” I said, kissing him on the forehead. “Daddy’s proud. Now hand me my jacket.”

Inside, the guy from the casino was waiting for us in the lounge with his wife. He was a massive man, built with fat and muscle, with fingers the size of the kid’s dick. A diamond ring glittered on his enormous thumb, like a knuckle duster. His wife was thin, high stiletto heels, and her eyes glittered like her husband’s ring when she saw the kid.

“Oh my,” she giggled.

The kid took one look at the two of them and tried to hide behind me. I pushed him forward, and the guy came up and shook my hand.

“Glad you could make it,” he said. “I’d like to take a look first, if that’s alright by you.”

The kid turned and buried his head in my shoulder, and whispered:

“Daddy, please…”

“Go ahead,” I said to the guy. I guided the kid into the middle of the room, next to a big glass coffee table the wife was pointing at, and gave him a shove in the back. “Take your clothes off, baby.”

There was a moment when the kid looked like he was going to run, his eyes were finding the door, his shoulders were hunched.

“He’s not a very good boy, is he?” said the wife.

“He’s done bad things,” I said. “And a lot of them were to me.”

I met the kid’s look with a level stare, and he began to get undressed.

“Such a bad boy, stealing girlie’s panties,” said the guy, going up to him and stroking his cock through the lace. “This little thing ain’t up to much, is it?”

“Oh, hang on…” I went over and tipped the kid’s head back, dropped a kiss on his mouth and let my tongue travel along his bottom lip. His dick poked out the top of the g-string, and the guy laughed. Then he drew the g-string down slowly, crouching down so the kid could step out of it, and running his big, meaty hands up his smooth legs and over his balls. He looked like he was checking out a bullock, the way he squeezed and rolled them in his hands, then opened the slit in the kid’s prick with his thumbs and literally stared down it.

“Turn round,” he told him. The kid, who was shaking by now, presented him with his ass and the guy bent him over and went straight to his pucker; prodded it with one of those fingers and went knuckle-deep without warning. The kid yelped and got a smack across his butt cheek.

“I've got some tape in the car if you prefer him quiet,” I offered.

“That’s ok. We’re good.” The guy pointed to the glass coffee table and said to the kid: “Lie on that.”

Well, that was going to be cold.

The kid slid onto the enormous slab of glass and lay there with his prick pointing skywards; the wife came over.

“Oh my.”

“It’s a nice view from underneath,” said the guy to me. “Take a look.”

So I went and lay under the glass coffee table and stared at the kid’s ass cheeks, squashed pale and wide by the glass. Then they got him to turn over and I looked at his dick leaking against tabletop and belly, trying to reach me through the glass. The woman’s hand dipped under his balls and they were engulfed in a French manicure that pinched and prodded them. When I got out from under the table, that manicure was scraping at his pucker.

“He’s so smooth,” she said appreciatively.

“What have you got in mind for him?”

“Oh, she likes to watch me teach them a lesson,” said the guy. “I can guarantee no marks anywhere… on the outside, least ways. Can’t promise he’ll want to walk much after, though.” He landed a palm on the kid’s butt and the slap resounded in my head. “He’ll never forget this lesson. Kid, get up, we’ve places to go.”

The kid stood on shaky legs, and lifted red eyes to me. One last appeal.

“Enjoy,” I said. “You deserve it.”

“You’re not coming with me?”

“Daddy’s going to be just here,” I smiled. “Waiting.”

As I said it, the guy suddenly had a leather collar in his hand, and was buckling it round the kid’s neck. His wife snapped a leash to it, and tugged him out of the room. I listened to where the wife’s stiletto footsteps were going, poured myself a Scotch from the drinks’ tray, and spent the next ten minutes thumbing through the guy’s hunting magazines. A couple of screams drifted up from somewhere down below, and I heard my name called out in a voice that was as scared as I’d ever heard the kid sound. Then silence. I finished the Scotch, picked up my jacket and took the gun that I’d brought with me out of the inside pocket. I really wasn’t a dumb kind of guy. Then I went and followed the path the footsteps had taken, which was down to some cellar door, and shot the lock open.

Inside, the kid was handcuffed to some bizarre slatted tilting table, something nasty clamped to his prick that was poking through the slats, and something nastier clawing open his pucker, like a big metal spider pulling his pink skin apart. A rifle – the kind you shot small things with – was making its way up his ass.

“That,” I said to the surprised couple, “is really sicker than anything I could ever come up with.”

The guy had his finger on the rifle trigger.

“Put that stupid ass toy gun away, or I’ll blow your little queer inside out.”

“Did I hear you right, did you just threaten to murder my baby boy?”

I grinned, and pulled out my wallet. Showed them a police ID that my detective had once left behind after a heavy drinking session, and I’d never mentioned I’d found.

“Your choice, but there could be a whole lot more trouble than you bargained for. Friends in high places, you know, who have similar interests.”

The guy took his hands away from the gun.

“It wasn’t loaded.”

He wasn’t dumb, either. I motioned for him and his wife to back right up, went over and pulled the metal cylinder slowly out of the kid, who was sobbing into a ball-gag, then leant down to whisper in his ear.

“What d’you reckon?” I said. “Have you been punished enough?”

He nodded – as much as he could anyway, because his neck collar was held tight by two more clamps. I waited a second, then said:

“And have we had enough of the whole you feeling guilty thing? Because let me tell you, it’s getting really fucking boring.”

He nodded again and I straightened up.

“Right,” I said, waving the gun at the wife. “If you could be so kind as to undo those tricky locks, darling, and you, Sir…” I pointed at his hand. “I’ll have that nice bit of ice on your thumb as down payment for the ten minutes you spent mauling my kid. Which is a bargain, trust me, when you hear what I've spent on him in the past.”

I locked the couple in their wine cellar – didn’t want them to be embarrassed when someone found them, did I? – collected the kid’s clothes and carried him to the car. He was a mess. Big, hiccoughing sobs that shook his whole body; wiping his nose on the back of his hand. I figured it was better to get away from the dungeon before I tried to get some sense out of him, so I drove for half an hour while he managed to pull on his clothes in the back seat. Finally, he stopped crying enough to say:

“It was loaded. He made me watch him put the shot in.”

I couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so we went on in silence for another while until a motel crept up. I pulled into it – it was getting late, and the kid hadn’t eaten for hours – and booked us into a room. The clerk looked at us funny when I had to help the kid out of the car and up the stairs, but he stopped when I gave him a fifty dollar tip to go and find us some food.

“Chinese,” the kid said weakly.

Once we were in possession of lots of cartons and some beer, I sat the kid on the tiny double bed and turned on the TV.

“Normal, you said.” He nodded, waiting for me to angle my chopsticks into his mouth. I dropped a piece of Chow Mein between bruised lips. “Well, you can’t get much more normal than watching sports on TV.”

“Prefer cartoons,” sniffed the kid.

“Of course you do.”

So cartoons it was. And while he watched, I sucked his dick until it was happy again, then slipped the guy’s diamond ring over the head so that it sat pretty an inch from the top.

“Said I’d get you one,” I murmured against his soft, red tip. “Said you wouldn’t have to ask.”

The kid didn’t say anything back. The kid was fast asleep.

I dozed off and woke up around two in the morning, the TV flickering in the darkness, the kid naked beside me with his jewelled cock – just as I’d dreamt so long ago – poking me in the thigh. I climbed on top of him and pinned his hands behind his head.

“You can stop pretending to be asleep.”

He gave me a doe-eyed look.

“Sing me a lullaby.”

“I’ll do better than that.” I reached down for my jacket and took out some stuff I’d appropriated from our sojourn in the raw hide dungeon. “I’ll make you sing me one.”

The kid stretched out his arms on my instructions, and I cuffed him to the mattress frame; waved my gun at him. His eyes went completely black.

“You can do that, if you want,” he said. “You can pull the trigger, too.”

Still fairly fucked up, then. Maybe he was never going to be exactly what you’d call normal. I put the gun away and pushed his feet up on the mattress. His diamond cock glittered in the light of the TV and his balls were shades of grey. His pucker was a smudge of darkness.

“The only thing shooting up your hole from now on is Daddy’s dick. And that’s going to depend.”

“On what?”

“On how sweet you sing.” I crawled between his legs and pulled his ass cheeks apart, lowering my face to the darkness buried there. I stroked the tip of my tongue across the wrinkled skin, tickling him gently where they’d hurt him. His legs fell further open, and I heard the cuffs pull taught against the metal frame. I dragged my tongue along the smoothest patch of skin between pucker and balls, pressing down lightly to make him jump. Then I sucked each hard nut into my mouth, while my fingers went searching deep inside him. I kept the fingers moving, scissoring and twisting, and climbed up his rigid body to lick a trail from cock to neck. His nipples were hard points, his chest slippery with a sheen of heat. I bit his left nipple and pressed another finger in.

“Fuck…”

His head fell back and the cuffs scraped metal again. I stilled my fingers, laid my head on his chest and listened to his heart thumping. I could feel the diamond ring scratching my thigh; an odd feeling – cold and hard against the hot, wet little head of his cock.

“Tell me,” I said, “what Daddy’s going to do to you.” He licked his lips, took a breath.

“I've been good, haven’t I?”

“Yes, darling.”

“Then you’re going to spread me wide until I’m all open for you to inspect.”

I sat back and did it, turning on the table lamp so I could see properly. He was red and raw from the night’s activities, and it made me angry and satisfied all at once.

“You’re still pretty,” I said, “all swollen and bruised.”

“Am I pretty enough for you to want to put your cock in me, Daddy?”

“Always.”

“Please, then…”

“Tell me properly.”

He twisted in the cuffs.

“Please, Daddy. Put your dick… Christ… put it inside me.”

“Here?” I said, leaning over him and nudging his hole with the top of my prick. He whimpered nicely.

“Yes, there…”

“Where?”

“In my ass hole… fuck, I’m gonna die if I can’t feel you in there. I need you, need your cock Daddy…”

I put my hand to his own cock.

“And what about this?”

“It’s yours.”

“Again.”

“It belongs to you. I belong to you – prick, balls, pucker, everything, it’s all yours. Just, please, fuck me now.” He was almost crying again, only this time it was the sweetest frustration. I slid inside him an inch, so the head of my dick was being clenched by his ass muscles and he tried desperately to manoeuvre me further in.

“Shall I fuck you, baby boy? Shall I screw you until you scream?”

“Just… fuck…”

“Ask nicely.”

I watched as his throat worked silently, then he managed to get his voice to steady.

“Please, Daddy. If you love me.”

“I do.”

I hooked his legs onto my shoulders and sank all the way in, while he shouted my name. Then I screwed him quick and sharp until the ring round his cock was trying to pop off the purple head. It looked good and painful, straining against his shiny flesh. He told me some more things to do – touch me just there, Daddy, don’t stop – and when I did stop he begged me to keep going. Promised me his ass, any way I wanted.

“I've had it all ways,” I said.

“My mouth, then.”

“Had that, too.”

I could see him thinking what to offer next, and not find anything, so I leant down and kissed his poor, confused forehead. Began moving inside him again with long strokes that were a forerunner to my building explosion.

“You can promise not to leave me.”

And when he promised, I kissed him on the mouth and filled him up until I was leaking out of him, and his diamond ring had slipped off into a pool of his come.

 We didn’t bother going back to sleep – there wasn’t enough time for that plus all the things he needed me to do. Not that I was up to much, but after I un-cuffed him he was happy to sit on my lap while I petted his dick and he let words spill out of his mouth.

“Gonna crawl on my knees for you.”

“Yes, baby.”

“Let you video me, show it to the world.”

“And it’s dog.”

“It’s dog can fuck me, if you want it to.”

I bit his shoulder.

“You’re sweet.”

“And then I’ll put that diamond ring on my cock, screw you until you bleed.”

“My darling.”

“Then wipe you clean and cream you up, so you’re better for the next day when we can do it all over again.”

It was like somebody had turned a tap on inside him, and everything he’d kept in his dirty little mind for three years was flooding out. I let myself drown for a while, until I realised he’d come on my hand and was now just murmuring the same phrase over and over again. I sucked my fingers clean and said:

“I love you too.”

He smiled suddenly.

“Sing me a lullaby now.”

“Don’t know any.”

“Come on, try and remember. For me.”

“Ok…” There was one song I knew maybe three verses to, used to play on some kiddie’s program with nice pictures in the background. I’d always kind of liked it.

“She turned into a rose,

A rose without a thorn,

So he turned into a gardener,

And cut her all forlorn.

So she turned into a hart,

That lived deep in the wood,

So he turned into a hunter

And shot her where she stood.”

The kid yawned.

“Trust you to know the only sick lullaby.”

“That’s why I like it.”

“And I guess I’m the hart in this ditty?”

I kissed him for a long time and enjoyed it as nothing more than a kiss.

“Actually,” I said, pulling away at last, “you’re the hunter. I just never realised until now.”

We got back for eight o’clock the next morning, and I dropped the kid off at the store to do one final shift.

“It’ll keep your mind off things,” I said when he complained.

“You’re such a bastard, going ahead with this when you already know I’m coming back with you.”

“I know, but then again – not everything’s always about you.”

“Yes it is.”

“Ok, it’s not always just about you.”

“I've left my uniform at the flat.”

Not home anymore, then. Just the flat.

“Borrow someone else’s. There was a girlie about your size at the till. If you screw her she’ll probably lend it to you.”

He slammed the car door and stomped off. I wound the window down.

“And find somewhere else to kip.”

Which got me the finger.

Back at the flat, the cutie was waiting in her dressing gown, drinking that terrible coffee. She looked like she’d had her best sleep in months. She stood up when I came in.

“Well?”

“Ah ah. No telling until I've had my day.” I let her pour me a coffee and drank it down with a grimace. “I’m knackered. Let’s go back to bed.”

She folded her arms.

“You’re not getting in my bed covered in him.”

“Then give me a shower, sweetie. Wash him off and cover me with you instead.”

For a second she looked like she might slap me – hated me with every ounce of her being – but at the same time, there was the fact that here I was, a bastard but a charming one, and I wanted her. She went into the bathroom, letting me follow behind. I really can be very persuasive.

Once she’d decided to do something, the cutie did it properly. She undressed me as she ran the shower to the right temperature, then shrugged off her dressing gown and let it slide to the floor. Her plumpness was adorable – literally, I wanted to worship it. There was so much to discover in that round flesh, her titties enormous and pale, her pussy completely smooth. The cleft that should’ve been covered in hair was naked for me to see, and the dark crevice was begging for me to run a finger down it. So I did. She watched me without a sound, let me wet my finger in her puss and find her clit – which was huge. I rubbed it and watched her eyes grow big.

“We’re going to have such a time of it, baby doll.”

She took my hand away and said:

“The hot water will run out.”

Under the shower jet, she washed me down with her bare hands, dipping her soapy fingers down my crack and pushing in briefly, then stroking my dick and balls with a practised hand. She rubbed my back and massaged my neck and shoulders, letting her breasts jiggle against my skin and her nude puss balance against my butt. If I’d had more sleep, I’d have pushed inside her right there against the tiles, where I’d first had the boy. Done her from the front in the same spot I’d done him from behind. But I had nothing left for a while, and had to let her pull me out of the shower and towel me down, then watch her pat her rosy skin dry. Her ass was wide and fleshy, and I caught a glimpse of the pinkest pucker and pussy lips as she put a foot up on the bath and dried her leg. She had no shame in front of me – I think she hated me too much.

We crawled into bed and I made her lie on her back so I could sleep on her tit, pink nipple pressed against my mouth so I could suck it if I wanted. My hand went back to her little secret trio, and I walked my fingers from clit to quim to pucker and back again and felt her button get even bigger. No wonder the kid had stayed so long with her – she was a playground of things to do. And when she let me fall asleep with my thumb in her pussy and my forefinger in her ass hole, I knew that this girlie was a gift beyond ordinary.

I slept for a couple of hours – no idea whether she did, nor did I care – then woke up to find my cock happy to get going. I kissed her until she deigned to open her eyes, which was about the same time she made the tiniest sound in the back of her throat. A whimper. Blink and you’d miss it, but there it was. I grinned down at her.

“Am I still ugly?”

“On the inside.”

“But it’s the outsides you’ll be sucking, baby doll.”

Like I said, I’m not a stupid guy, and I know that my face is still my fortune. Not many a woman can say no to me, and certainly not this bit of honey, no matter how much she tried. I crawled over her and slotted my cock into that hot, naked softness because I didn’t like to make her wait.

“There you go,” I said, brushing the hair from her face. “You’ve been asking yourself since we made the deal – will he, won’t he? Now you know I’m a man of my word.”

“I hate you.”

“And you’re right to.” I pushed back and forth, pressing my groin against that huge clit. “But you’ll still have a time of it. So go ahead and scream all you like, I won’t think any less of you.”

She didn’t scream right then, but she let herself moan as I took my dick out and replaced it with my mouth, sucking on her button until she soaked my face three times in a row. Beautiful. Absolutely fucking beautiful. And she didn’t need me to marry her, or give her kiddies, or even stay with her. In fact, she just wanted me to leave her the fuck alone.

I was going to take her with us and chain her up to the kid. Take them in turns, take them together, let them screw around with each other with one on my dick and one on my face.

I was going to have to get some perspective.

By now I was leaking all over her duvet, so I lay down with my hands folded behind my head.

“Now, if you’d be so kind, I’d like to see that gorgeous big ass of yours doing some work.”

She gave me a wicked look.

“Which bit of it?”

So she did have a sense of humour.

“You choose. Though both would be good.”

She climbed over and turned her back to me, her tits so big they could be seen bouncing from the sides. Then she arched her back and waved that lovely arrangement of pussy lips and pucker and quim in my face. Let her fingers wander into her holes, then pulled the lips apart for me to take the best look. I almost passed out. Fortunately, she got bored of the position and angled her ass hole over my dick, grabbed it, and edged down slowly until it was me screaming and her thinking even less of me than she already did. She was tighter than the kid – less practice, probably, if the strap-on was anything to go by – and pinker. To see my nasty cock cramming its way up her gave a whole new meaning to the word ruin. But then she came off me, and swapped to her pussy, where she seemed to have her very own sweet spot that I just managed to reach. Her butt cheeks rested on my belly and her toes dug under my ribs.

“You know,” I said as I came as deep inside her as I could send it, “I think I love you.”

“No you don’t. You just love taking something that’s his.”

She finally sounded upset, so I waited until she climbed off and then wrapped my arms around her. I’d promised the kid I wouldn’t make her cry. Of course, you’d have thought making her give it up to me would’ve got me tears, but then she wasn’t an ordinary girl after all.

“Why don’t you play with your titties?” I said, breathing into her neck. “It might not make you feel any better, but it’ll make me feel evil.”

She obliged, squashing them together so she could tilt her head down and kiss them, run her tongue into the dark space between them. Then she said:

“He said you like to look.”

“He told you about me, then?”

“Only after we’d lost the bet. He said… I didn’t understand, really, but he said he’d hurt you once.”

“No more than I deserved.”

“I think he feels guilty.”

I took her hands away from her breasts and replaced them with mine, cupping the heavy weight of each one and watching as they dimpled in my palms.

“The thing about him,” I said, “is that he’s always feeling guilty about somebody. When he was whoring himself out to me, he used to call out his dead girlfriend’s name. Now he’s whoring himself to you, it’s my name. It’ll be yours next.”

“He isn’t a whore.”

“Oh, but he is, cutie. It’s just that you don’t know it until he’s left. Now lie back and stroke that lovely hairless cunny of yours. It’s such a pretty picture.”

After a while and a surprising amount of climaxes on her part – I wondered if the kid had been practising his own voyeur skills on her – I wanted nothing more than to have my cock in her mouth and her eyes on mine.

“Are you going to bite it?” I asked her, as I knelt over her face.

“You’ll just have to find out.”

I fed my prick into her mouth, and knew that this was the worst and best thing I had ever done, because when this was over she’d know all about the real kid, not the one pretending to be her boyfriend. She gave me a good, hard bite and I laughed. Pushed in some more, until I felt her throat working. When it looked like she was going to choke, I pulled out and came between her tits, making her hold them together so I could feel their warmth suffocating my cock. I stayed like that for a while, looking down at the sight of my prick disappearing inside her cleavage, then I climbed off and rubbed my come into her skin.

“He’s better at blow jobs than you are, honey.”

“Maybe I just don’t like blowing you.”

I turned her over and slapped her ass for that, then spent another good while smacking each butt cheek and counting how long it shook. The movement seemed to travel in waves across her flesh, right down to the heavy part near her thigh.

“Does he ever do this to you?” I asked.

She lifted her face from the pillow and her cheeks were as rosy as her ass and she was biting her lip. Oh yes, he did this alright. The only question was…

“And is it you he’s doing it to, or is it me?”

When she didn’t answer, I smacked her hard across both cheeks until she cried out.

“You.”

“My poor little girl. Another boy would lose himself completely in you.” I rubbed her reddened butt and spread the cheeks so I could reach down and tongue her hole. She smelt of apricot shower gel. “I’d lose myself. Think I am. Does he do this, too?”

“You know he does.”

“And I bet he’d bury himself in here every time, if you let him. You must’ve always known he wasn’t yours, that I’d come back for him. Did it disgust you to think of us together?”

“He could never disgust me. I love him.”

“You’re not the only one. You’re not even the prettiest one, but you lasted the longest.” I squirmed a finger inside pussy and pucker again. “What else does he do?”

She gasped as I pinched the fingers together.

“He comes on my ass, between the cheeks…”

“Of course.”

“And… and he…”

“What, cutie?” I took my fingers out and rested my face on her burning ass. “He makes you screw him, doesn’t he? With that nasty toy of his.”

She couldn’t answer, so I kissed her ass and said:

“Want to screw me instead? You can make it hurt as much as you like.”

We dressed her up in the kid’s work clothes – or, at least, his hat and apron, with her titties straining against the coarse material – and I buckled her into the strap-on, tucking the apron into the waist band. She looked gorgeous, like a girl version of the kid. I showed her how good a blow job I could give and swallowed down her black prick while I pressed on her button and made her pant.

“It’s not all about this,” she said as I did her bidding and got onto all fours. “It’s not just fucking someone when you love them. You’ve got to be happy together, really like each other.”

She was right. The kid and me were all about the fucking, and not often about the liking. At some point, we were going to run out of energy for the one, and maybe not have enough of the other to make up for it.

But that didn’t mean I was going to leave him to his girlie and never find out.

She ran the tip of her toy under my balls and up my crack, then didn’t bother with lube; just shoved it in with nothing but my spit for comfort. I yelled, and she rammed it in further, putting a year’s worth of loathing into every stroke. All that hatred made me rock hard again, and it seemed like I had the kid see-sawing into me, crazy with anger like that night in the club. When I shouted her name out, she stopped, took that nasty thing out and kissed me better. Creamed me up properly and took me nice and slow, saying:

“This is the way I screw him, up his tight ass, so he’s all mine.”

He wasn’t though. But I didn’t tell her because she did it so well, making me stand up and hold myself open, then lie on my back holding my knees in the air as she fucked me into some kind of oblivion. I think it was the first time she’d done it when the person on the end of her cock was with her all the way.

When I’d been allowed to come, she washed me down again. I wouldn’t let her shower, because I wanted to smell that lovely mix of me and her all day. And we were going somewhere.

“Where?” she said.

“First, I’m going to spoil you like you deserve.”

Spoiling always means spending in my book, and we laid waste to the very uninspiring mall in a short couple of hours. She wore her lowest cut top – her choice – and sported me on her arm like a trophy. Let me fuck her in the lift when I stopped it between floors. I could be so good for this girl, if things were different. After lunch, and a foot job under the table where her bare feet managed to undo my fly and travel the length of my cock, I said:

“Now I want to meet your Daddy.”

She stared at me. Carried on rubbing with her foot, though.

“You bastard.”

“I’ll not do anything, I swear. I just need to meet him.” Although the idea of talking to her Daddy while I could smell me off her from ten feet away… I think I’ll always be a bastard somewhere down the line.

She took me to his office at the store, where we could see the kid glaring from the till. His girlie avoided his eye, though I blew him a kiss.

Daddy was old enough, married late, ruled by his daughter who didn’t actually know she was his purpose in life. She did love and respect him, though. He looked at me like I had horns and a tail. The three of us talked for a while, I told him I was being shown the local beauty spots by a very well-mannered guide. Then he sent his daughter to open the back gate for the delivery van.

“But Daddy, the guys can do that…”

“They’re busy.”

She gave me a warning look and left. The Daddy poured me a drink and sat back in his chair.

“Well?” he said.

I put the drink on his desk.

“I’m taking the kid back.”

“He’s doing just fine here.”

“Shall I tell you some things?”

“I don’t judge a man on his past.”

“But you let your little girl sleep with him.” He started to get up, and I stood my ground. “She wants him, and you let her get her own way, but you’ve neither of you any idea of the things he’s done.”

“He can change.”

“And he’ll change back. Now, he owes me, and I’m collecting.” I saw the cutie coming back into the store and make her way to the office. “You should know, when your girlie wants to come with us tomorrow morning, I’m going to let her.”

The Daddy was still standing when I left the office and caught hold of his daughter’s arm. 

“What did you say?”

“Nothing about us.” I took a deep breath against her neck, smelt sweat and come. “Now, let’s go spend the rest of the day doing whatever the fuck you want.”

She gave me a steady look.

“Can we go back to the casino?”

“You can wipe my bank account clean.”

“We could drive to Vegas.”

“I’ll marry you there. Course, I’ll have to get divorced first…”

Suddenly, she was gripping my hand.

“Let’s go back to the flat. I like it when you look at me.”

“Then I’ll look all day and night, as long as you smile.”

She kissed me and tugged me out of the store without a backwards glance at the kid staring daggers at our backs.

We were admiring some of the new things I’d bought her – a bit of naughty, because if I was going to spend that much money I wanted something back in return – when he eventually turned up. I looked up from where I was lying on the bed.

“Never thought you’d last that long.”

“I left my wallet here.”

“Sure you did.” I pulled his girlie to me and gave her a kiss on her chest, which made her giggle. Nice sound. Made him frown furiously, though. I smiled and sat the girlie on my lap. “Your whore is something else, you know? Not twelve hours ago I told him I loved him, made him promise never to leave, and already he’s worried I’m going to fuck off and leave him.”

“No, I’m not,” said the kid.

His girlie put her arms around my neck and narrowed her eyes at him.

“Don’t lie.”

I watched all the bravado go out of the kid, and felt sorry for him. But if he was going to be as dumb as to think I’d spent three years looking for his skinny ass and was actually going to leave it here – well, he deserved to be laughed at some. I patted the bed.

“Make yourself useful now you’re here.”

To give him his due, the kid hesitated. Looked for a nod from his girlie before he scrambled out of his clothes and crawled over the mattress towards us. The diamond ring was still on his prick, held in place by a thin metal chain, the kind you buy off a roll at a hardware store, looped through the ring then linked to another chain round his waist. You had to admire the kid’s sense of values – big old diamond, steel chain, rent boy cock. All equal in his head.

“Time was, I’d say find somewhere else to sleep and you’d do as you were told,” I said, perching him on one knee, his girl on the other – two babes with pink cheeks - and giving him a long kiss while the girlie ignored the diamond and stared at his smooth crotch. Stretched her hand out towards it and stroked the skin around his rising dick. The kid closed his eyes and leant his head against my chest.

“I’d leave the two of you alone,” I went on, “but I’m just not that nice. But you can tell me to go, if you like.”

The cutie looked hard at her boy, willing him to say something and put an end to it all, knowing he wasn’t going to because he kept his eyes closed. Resting on my knee like that, he looked like he’d finally come home and wasn’t about to give it up. I chucked the cutie under the chin.

“He’s a little shit, but he doesn’t mean to be.” I dropped a kiss on the boy’s head. “Tell her, baby. So she can leave if she wants.”

He opened his eyes at last, and there were no tears, no shame.

“I’m going with him.”

He really could be a brutal bastard. The girlie already knew what his answer was going to be, but still cried when she heard it from his lips. He softened a bit then, and tried to reach out to her, but I slapped his hand away.

“If I didn’t love you, I’d kick you out. You should’ve got in the car when I first told you, and not put her through this.”

He hung his head.

“Sorry.”

“You will be. Because I've got fifteen hours left on the deal, and you’re going to serve that butt of yours to her on a plate while I sit back and enjoy.” I winked at the cutie. “And the nastier, the better.”

There must’ve been something about being all dolled up in an outfit fit for a tart, because his girl rose to the occasion. Either that or she’d picked up a couple of my tricks. She told him to get off Daddy’s knee because he didn’t deserve to be there, which made the diamond ring throttle his cock to an even deeper shade of purple, then she made him kneel on the bed while she screwed him with her strap-on; I creamed him up and held his ass cheeks apart for her, and watched as she sank into him until he was screaming out my name. For that, she took one of her slippers – a fluffy thing with pictures of cats on the toes – and used it while the kid balanced himself over my lap with his forehead almost touching the floor. He looked kind of ridiculous, being spanked by pussy cats, but his butt and face turned a beautiful dark red as he bounced on my knees in a desperate bid to keep his ass in place for each stinging whack. When he lost his balance, the girlie would ask me to open his legs, and take some swipes at his balls. I promised myself I’d do it properly when we got home - tie him up and whip him with this sly, curved piece of leather I’d found in the dungeon. Stripes across more than his butt for once, I’d wrap it round his cock and balls until it was covered in sweat, teach him to fucking leave me. Make him see God by the time I’d done with him.

I stopped dreaming and found the girlie eyeing my cock; it was poking up at the kid’s side as he dangled over my knees.

“He’s given me quite the run around,” I said, “if you’re looking for a reason.”

She nodded. Went round to the other end of the kid and grabbed a fistful of his hair, making him wince.

“Daddy’s cock is getting lonely and I think it’s time you showed me just what all the fuss is about.”

The kid slid off my lap and knelt on the floor, waiting for me to get nice and comfy on the bed, then did his cat-crawl over the sheets for a kiss.

“Did you miss me, Daddy?” he whispered.

“Always.”

I didn’t really need it, but the girlie insisted he use his mouth on my cock for a bit. She lay next to me and watched as he turned his ass to my face and his face to my dick, so that all I could see was his pink hole and hard balls. I liked it best that way sometimes, when each wet lick was a surprise. When his tongue in my slit made me jump and tense, and I never knew if I’d feel the back of his throat or his teeth next. The girlie stared at him.

“You’re right,” she said. “He’s a whore. Just look at the way he sticks his butt in the air for you without even being asked.”

I took her little finger and popped it into his hole, where it was hot and sticky with lube.

“His whole world starts and ends here,” I told her. “Keep this happy, and this happy…” I took the finger out and cupped her hand around his balls and dick, “and he’ll eat your leftovers from a dog bowl if you want.” I gave his butt a sharp smack. “Turn round now, I want to see your face when we’re talking about you.”

The kid rearranged himself so we could watch my prick vanishing between his lips and his eyes glaring up at us.

“I want to fuck him so bad when he’s pissed off,” I said. “Nothing sweeter than making him come when he doesn’t want to.”

The girlie took a second to brush the hair out of the kid’s eyes; she pushed a finger into the hollow of his cheek and pressed through his skin against my cock which he’d sucked inside. It was like getting a hand job and a blow job all at once – too much for me to cope with.

“Baby doll…” I warned her.

“He looks so… I really don’t know what he looks like.”

“Ruined?”

“Yeah, and kind of… alive.”

I pushed the kid’s mouth off me and he sat back on his heels and continued glaring at us both.

“Who the fuck d’you think ruined me?”

I wagged my finger at him.

“Did I say you could talk?”

He pouted, which made the girlie go all soft.

“Never mind,” she said, tugging at the chain to his diamond ring. “Daddy’s going to put his cock in you now, so you’ll be happy, won’t you?”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, then he slithered over me and swallowed up my dick with his pucker in one swift movement. Closed his eyes and stretched his hands out on my chest.

“Like he said, my world starts and ends here.”

When everything was said and done, it really was all about the kid. He had me and his girl stuck in some kind of loop that night, both of us watching him lose himself on my dick. We were enslaved to him, as he worked his way up and down, his lips parted in a constant sigh, his body sparkling with sweat. He opened his eyes and saw only me, gave me a smile that told me he’d finally come back. Reached for my hand and curled it around his aching, dripping cock so it was just the two of us making a perfect circle. The girlie could only look on. You could call me a narcissist -or a self-involved bastard, whichever took your fancy - but that was nothing compared to how the kid sucked everybody into his orbit and left them there to satellite around him. He leant down and covered me with his body, my dick still crammed into him; shifted back and forth with tiny movements while he explored my mouth with his tongue. He’d once said there’d be nothing left of me, just him, and he’d been right. By the time he squeezed my come into his ass, I was yelling his name into his mouth because it was the only word I could remember.

His girl’s voice broke through the aftermath, as we lay wrecked by her side.

“That’s a nice name.”

I looked over the kid’s head; he was collapsed on my neck, breathing hot and fast against my skin.

“It’s the one I call him.”

“Suits him.”

She slid down the bed and watched as my cock softened in the kid’s hole, then tweaked it out. The kid moaned slightly.

“My slut,” I whispered into his ear.

We gave him some time to recover – ordered food in and sat him on the floor by the table as we ate it. He pressed his head against my knee as I fed him, then showed the girlie how he’d eat from the floor if I liked. Once we’d eaten, we cleared the table and made him lie on it, his legs splayed as the girlie took photos with an old Polaroid she unearthed from the closet.

“Keep’s sake,” she explained, turning him over onto his belly so that his growing cock was trapped against the wood. He held himself open for her camera, and she buried some things inside him because she said they looked mean. Nothing like the things I’d tried before, but bad enough to make him cry a bit by the end. A bottle of her nail varnish that almost got lost; the blunt end of her hairbrush; her steel rolling pin. That kind of thing. She was developing a taste for hurting him, which was only the same as everybody before her. It was a way of owning him, I’d finally figured out. At least when he cried, she knew it was her who’d done it, and that was all she could ask from him.

We made him crawl to the sofa, and he sat on my lap as his girl stood before him and slid her fingers into herself. I told him to feel her lovely tits and he obliged, sucking each nipple into his mouth with a tantalising gentleness. The kid enjoyed it, got even harder, and said to me:

“Can I, Daddy?”

“I’ll smack you if you don’t.”

She climbed onto his cock and they fucked on my lap like I wasn’t there. Then they treated me to a floor show, the kid licking her pussy with great, long swipes while she lay back and moaned. He was good at it, knew where to go and didn’t mind taking his time. He couldn’t resist a finger up her pucker, though. Eventually, the sight of my two babies squirming away on the ground woke me up good and proper, and I got up and slapped the kid’s butt.

“I reckon you’re both forgetting I’m still in charge.”

I dragged them back to the bed – I wasn’t up to a stint on the carpet at my age – and they took it in turns to sit on my dick and my face while they petted each other. In the end, he came with my tongue wriggling up his pucker, watching his girlie get off on my cock. His come spurted onto my chest and she bent down and licked it off. The sight of it made him hard again, and I could only marvel at the lucky bastard with youth on his side. I left them to it, him screwing her like a proper lover, fitting neatly between her thighs and kissing her on her lips, her calling him by the name she knew. By the time I’d had a coffee and watched the clock in the kitchen turn two in the morning, they were asleep in each other’s arms like Romeo and Juliet – if you didn’t know any better. I slept on the couch because I wanted her to have him all to herself one last time when she opened her eyes. I woke up to the phone ringing – the one belonged to the flat - and picked it up.

“Oh, it’s you,” said my wife. “I thought you’d have left already.”

I stumbled around in my mind for a second, trying to work out why my wife on the end of this particular phone was so wrong.

“You’ve got the kid’s number? Did he call you or something when I got here?”

My wife gave a patient sigh.

“No.”

I stumbled around a bit more; things started to thud into place.

“How long have you had his number?”

“I've always had it.”

“So…” Dear God, I was getting old. Truly needed my sleep to work things out. “So, how long have you known where he was?”

Another patient sigh.

“Always.”

“You’re telling me I've spent three years wasting money on that fuckwit of a private detective, and you knew where he was all along?”

“No, I’m telling you I spent three years paying that fuckwit not to find him.”

Sometimes, my wife and me deserved each other so exactly it was frightening. I rubbed my eyes to try and clear the fog in my head – didn’t work. All I could think of to say was:

“Why?”

“I was trying to save our marriage. I've been trying to save it since before we walked up the aisle.”

“And you decided to let me find him now?”

There was a pause.

“I guess I've stopped trying. Let me speak to him now. It’s important.”

I went and woke up the boy, none too gently, and handed him the phone. He disappeared off into the kitchen and talked for a few minutes, sounding as serious as he could get. His girlie stayed asleep.

When he came back, I gripped his wrist and dragged him into the bathroom so I could slap his face without her hearing. He gave me an amused look.

“How did you think I knew about the wedding?”

“I figured you’d… I don’t know, looked it up on the internet or something.”

“The internet? I don’t even have a TV. What the fuck would I be doing on the internet?”

I sat on the edge of the bath and stared at the patterned tiles beneath my feet. He squatted down and took my hands, kissed the knuckles.

“Three fucking years,” I said.

“There was no point me leaving in the first place if you were just going to find me straight away. I wanted you both to have a chance.”

“Did she warn you I was coming?”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t leave.”

“We wanted to see what you’d do.”

“More than even you reckoned, I’d say.”

“Well…” he turned my hands over and kissed the palms. “You always did go that bit further. You’re very… dogged.”

“I think I could hate you for this.” He looked up into my eyes until I closed mine and said: “You’re still coming back though, right?”

“If you want me.”

I answered him by sinking to my knees and wrapping my arms around him so he could barely breathe. Buried my face in his skinny shoulder and let him hold me up. He stroked my hair.

“I tried to run away before you got here, but I couldn’t make it out the front door.”

“That’s ok,” I said. “When we get back home, the front door’s always going to be locked.”

His girl woke up to find him back in place next to her, and they enjoyed themselves while I packed his things around them. She was astride his cock when she suddenly turned round and asked the question that had been on her lips since I first turned up.

“What if I came with you?”

The kid, lost in some plump cutie fantasy, opened his eyes.

“I mean,” she went on, “I love him. And… it could work, right?” She looked at the kid, who nodded.

“Ask the boss.”

They both stared at me, big baby eyes, flesh that was soft and elastic at the same time.

“Two for one,” I said. “Why not?”

The kid looked grateful, like one of his burdens of guilt had been lifted. I finished off his packing and watched him thoroughly enjoy making his girlie come the way that only he knew how. She shook all over and smothered his face with her chest, and he growled into them as he gripped her ass and pumped himself into her pussy. Then the door went and, as I was the only one wearing normal clothes by that point, I went to answer it.

It was the girlie’s mother. When she heard her voice, she came out with her dressing gown on over the naughty piece she was still sporting.

“What is it? Why are you here so early?”

The mother looked distraught.

“It’s your daddy. He’s had some sort of turn, he’s in bed and he won’t let me call the doctor. Keeps asking for you…” She clutched her daughter’s hand. “He won’t stop asking for you.”

The girlie looked at her mother, who was near tears, then looked at me. I think it was only then that she realised just what a shit I really was. I shrugged. The kid came up behind her, pulling on his shirt.

“What’s up?”

“Daddy’s sick,” she said. “I’m going to see him.”

“You want me to come with?”

“No. I’ll… I’ll follow you later.”

“Ok…” the kid looked uncertain, so I patted him on the back.

“Don’t worry, it’s going to be fine. We’ve got to get moving anyhow.” I nodded to the mother. “I hope your husband feels better real soon. I’m sure he will just as soon as he sees his lovely daughter by his side.”

With that, I went back into my box room and stayed there until the girlie had vanished out of my life forever.

The kid was somewhat slow on the uptake, and it was only when we were hours from the town that he looked at me and said:

“She’s not coming after us, is she?”

“Not now her Daddy’s sick.”

“Is he really ill?”

“I would be, if I’d heard the truth about you.” I glanced at him, and sure enough that thumb was making its way to his mouth. I caught it before it got there and bit it.

“Ow! Fuck!”

“Enough with the guilt. If you want, I’ll let you scream her name when I screw you, but that’s it.”

“Or you’ll get that cowboy to stick a loaded gun up my ass again?”

“Too damn right.”

He scraped a smile onto his face.

“She deserved better than me, anyway.”

“Baby, we all deserve better than you.”

The smile got sly.

“Oh, you have no idea how much better you deserve.”

I would’ve spent some time worrying about what that meant exactly, but the kid decided the best way to not feel guilty was with my prick in his mouth; take his mind off things. So I drove with my eyes on the road and my cock being sucked inside out by the hottest, wettest mouth that had ever shouted my name. I put my hand on the back of his head and kept him down there, suffocating on me. He struggled a bit, which he knew damn well made the whole thing quicker, then licked me up nice and neat, so there wasn’t a trace of me left.

“Don’t swallow,” I said, so he sat there with my come in his mouth for the next while until I gave him permission to drink it.

“Where are we going, anyway?” he said once his mouth was empty.

“Home.” “And where the fuck is that these days?”

Good question. The wife had half the house in the pre-nup, which was fair enough since she was the one decorated it. Made it look something like a proper home.

“Does she know you’re coming back?” I asked him.

“Course.”

He seemed completely untroubled.

“Doesn’t she hate you?”

“She’s always been too busy trying to make you happy.”

“I don’t do happy.”

“And that’s why she let you find me. So we could both be miserable together.”

“I think we can manage that.”

The kid grinned, big and happy.

“So long as I’m sitting on your dick when I’m sad and over your knee when I’m crying, I reckon we both get what we deserve.”

I put a hand on his knee and it couldn’t help crawling towards the bulge in his fly.

“I've got plenty more things in my head to make you sad.”

The kid sank down into the seat and helped me open his fly and pop his dick out; put a hand to the steering wheel so I could use both mine on him.

“What things?”

I wrapped both hands around his cock and rubbed.

“Well, I think we’re gonna have to sort the two cocks thing out, and money’s going to change hands. I've got a nice, fat cock in mind. Maybe get back in touch with that male nurse. And then, baby, let me tell you about this thing I have for cuffing you to a meat hook…”

It was one way to pass the drive home, that was for certain.

After an hour of pestering me, I finally let the kid drive. After all, I’d known he could make the car go in a straight line ever since he made me go nude hitching, and this time he promised not to dump me at the side of a road and make me suck his dick to be allowed back in. I offered, of course – no point passing up an opportunity to have that treat in my mouth.

“Just for a bit, then,” he said, sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Just so you know, if you crash the car I’ll flay you alive.”

He reached out and pushed my head down to his cock, which was already out and waiting.

“Then you better not make any sudden movements, had you?”

I took it slow, just savouring the fact that at that precise moment we were all alone. Fuck knew what was lying in wait when we got back, but right now, with his hand rubbing circles in my hair and his leaden cock down my throat, we were free. No girlie at one end, no wife at the other. I wanted to tell him to keep driving forever; it’s what I’d wanted to do that night three years ago, when I could’ve kept going past the club and avoided a whole mess of crap. When he came, silent and sharp, I think I might’ve said the words – just keep going – but then suddenly it was three hours later and I woke up with my head still in his lap and the all too familiar sight of the welcome sign to my town. He turned off the highway and I sat up.

“Where are you going? The house is that way.”

“I've got to stop off somewhere first.”

I shrugged and watched the lights go by. It took a while for me to figure out where we were headed, and why he’d been so keen to drive the last leg. I tried to grab the steering wheel, but he held me off easily. Because he was always stronger than I realised, in all ways.

“This is so fucking stupid,” I said as he pulled up outside the police station. “You could’ve let me sort something out first before you throw yourselves to the fucking lions.”

“How?”

“I could’ve… shit, I’d have bribed that detective.”

“The same one who came to see me in hospital? Not the kind of guy to take brown envelopes.”

“Don’t see why not. He never pushed to find out who beat you up.”

The kid opened the door and gave me an indulgent look.

“Actually, he did. You just never saw him.”

I grabbed his arm to try and keep him in the car, but he pulled away and got out. So I got out too, tried to push him up against the car, tried to stop him anyway I could. People stopped to stare, because I must’ve looked insane, tugging and shoving him away from the station. He walked towards the open door like I wasn’t there.

“He’ll arrest you,” I said, standing in front of him. “They’ll lock you up and if you’re lucky you’ll do ten years with a dick up your ass every morning, noon and night.”

“Not much different from living with you, then.”

He walked round me.

“Fucking listen to me!” I was almost crying with frustration as the door got closer. “They kill people like you. They stick needles in you and they kill you, because it’s cheaper than having to pay for your keep. And nobody’s going to care enough to save you.”

He winked at me.

“You will.”

His hand reached for the door. I tried to hold it back one last time.

“If you go in there, that’s it. We’re finished. I’m not going to spend years talking to you through a glass bloody wall!”

He kissed me in full view of a lady cop coming out of the station and said:

“You’ll do whatever I want you to.”

He went in and, of course, I followed him. The detective was waiting for him inside, which meant the kid must’ve called him from the road when I was asleep with my head in his lap.

“Sit there,” the kid said, pointing to a seat near reception, “and don’t move until I come out.”

I watched him go off with the detective, who gave me a shrug as if to say sorry, then I put my head in my hands and lost it badly. Really badly. I hadn’t cried like that since the mad bastard had popped my cherry with his dick and his fist all those years ago. Or before that even, when my father had told me to get the hell out of his house. It was the same feeling now, like something incredibly important had been wrenched away from me, and there was fuck all I could do about it. Back then, I’d got stronger, harder, resolved to be in charge of my own fate; now, there was no getting stronger, because the kid had my fate in his hands and he was currently, carelessly letting it spill out onto the floor of some interview room.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and I looked up. My wife stood beside me, clutching a purse, looking smart and no-nonsense. She sat down and slipped an arm around me and I fucking bawled over her blouse.

“Poor darling,” she said, and it was the first time she’d ever called me that. I held her hand and we stayed like that for a long time until I managed to get my shit together enough to say:

“What are you doing here?”

“That detective of yours wanted to see me.”

I gripped her hand tighter.

“He’s going to put him away.”

“Maybe.” She stroked the back of my hand. “But I doubt it.”

I stared.

“What’s going on?”

“Oh my love,” she said in an indulgent voice that reminded me very much of the kid, “you really have no idea, have you?”

And at that moment, the detective reappeared, and the kid walked beside him with his hands hanging loosely – freely – by his side and a casual look of interest on his face. I stayed sitting because the kid had told me to, and waited while the detective signed him out and beckoned to my wife to follow him. For a moment, the three of us – the kid, my wife and me – were all in the same space. The kid let his hand touch hers as she walked past, and she gave him the loveliest smile. I wanted to stand up and go after her and say… what, exactly? I’m sorry? I love you? I’ll wait for you? No point, because none of those things were really true. So I stayed sitting and only got up when the kid said:

“Let’s go home.”

He drove us away from the police station and into the darkness and I still couldn’t stop crying. Not even enough to hear what he had to say, so he didn’t bother saying it, just parked up outside the diner and waited for me to stop shaking enough that I could get out of the car without fucking collapsing. The diner was still open, and I could see the waitresses moving around like little chequered flags in their gingham uniforms. The kid pushed the door open and one of them – the one I’d kept on from the last owner - looked up. She raised an eyebrow at the kid.

“Just can’t keep away, can you?”

“Like a bad penny,” he said, guiding me into the office. He sat me down. “So I figured, since I own the place, that makes you my rent boy.”

I couldn’t even begin to smile. He cupped my face in his hands and wiped tears off my cheeks.

“I kind of like you like this – all undone. If you stay this way, I might let you sleep in the bed. You’ve kept the upstairs flat, right?”

I nodded, and he took my hand and led me to the couple of rooms that overlooked the shittiest view in town. He unlocked the door and we went in; it was cold and musty, because I hadn’t gone in there since the estate agent had insisted on showing me round. It had been done up since the fire, of course, because that’s where the blaze had started. The last owner had put in a shower room and kitchenette, in the bedroom there was a bed that could just about pass for a double. Bare mattress. Nasty patterned wallpaper that could hide anything chucked at it. Absolutely fucking perfect.

The kid lay me down on the mattress, turned the heater on and curled up around me with his nose blowing tiny hot breaths on the back of my neck.

“You’re so cold,” he murmured. “I think you’re in shock.”

He rubbed my back and chest for a while, then said:

“I think about the baby sometimes. I reckon it got made here, in this room, one way or another. It might’ve been mine, or it might’ve belonged to that fuck lying in his grave. She was so into him for dope he was taking payment any way he wanted. But I’d have liked to have seen the baby.” He took my hand and laced our fingers. “You’re feeling warmer now.”

He was right. I wasn’t shaking anymore, either. I held onto his hand very tight in case he disappeared again, and he laughed and whispered:

“The things I’m going to make you do, my lovely whore. You have no idea.”

It was the detective who made it clear just how much of a dumb fuck I really was.

“You’re a dumb fuck,” he said. “That kid’s been leading you around by the nose and screwing your wife right under it without you even knowing.”

I shrugged. Waved at the waitress for more coffee – I wasn’t allowed to drink Scotch in the mornings anymore – and watched the kid sit on a stool at the bar and chew on a pencil as he went through the accounts. He had a head for figures, it turned out. The girlie’s Daddy had taught him a thing or two in case he took over the business one day. I didn’t give a shit. I was too busy watching the pencil slip between his lips and his butt shift uncomfortably on the stool; I’d had that curved piece of leather out the night before, and his ass and cock were a picture of neatly laid welts, each one licked with my tongue until he wept.

“You know what the kid says to me?” The detective glared in his direction. “He says he got on that bus to Ohio, then got off it. Got into your wife’s car –,”

“Ex-girlfriend at the time,” I said.

“Ex’s car, then, and went off to fuck her for the rest of the day. They’d been screwing ever since you gave him a job. She never said because she didn’t want you to leave her.”

“Technically not adultery.”

“Technically, completely fucked up. He’s got you both wrapped around his dick, I’m telling you.”

“But he’s got an alibi.”

The detective glared again.

“A very nice one, thanks to your wife. And he described that flat of hers in very explicit detail, said he’d been there so many times.” He grinned at me. “Described your wife, too. And she had a few choice things to say about his skinny ass.”

“Haven’t we all?”

“I've lots of choice things to say. Like, if they’d have told me three years ago, I could’ve got some fucking sleep.”

The waitress came over and poured us more coffee.

“Look on the bright side,” I said to the detective. “If they’d have said anything, you’d never have this opportunity to invest in my next club.”

“You’ve found somewhere?”

“Yeah, the kid found it. Some meatpacking place with those big hooks you hang carcasses from…” I glanced at the kid again. “Gonna keep those hooks for decoration.”

I might not be feeling as pissed off as I should about the whole screwing my ex thing, but I wasn’t about to let the kid off the hook, so to speak.

The detective drained his coffee in one and looked at me hard.

“Don’t take me for a mug. All this doesn’t mean the little shit’s innocent. Didn’t burn your club down and charcoal the bad guy along with it.”

“Innocent’s a funny word, you know. It means free of guilt.” I watched the kid slide off his stool and give me a look that meant it was time to get my ass moving in his direction. I turned back to the detective. “And I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt, that kid feels no guilt.”

“And what about you?” said the detective, getting his wallet out and standing up. “What do you feel, shacked up with the devil child?”

“Mostly - busy.”

The kid appeared at our table and put his hand on the detective’s arm.

“Put your money away,” he said.

“Oh, so you’re in charge now?”

The kid gave him a lovely smile which did in place of saying the words ‘I always was’. He tilted his head towards me.

“Did lazy bones here ask you about the club? He’s been kind of slow about doing any actual work.”

“Yeah, yeah… he’s got an investor. So long as you’re not any part of the deal.”

“Not my scene. All that dancing and drinking and getting off with strangers…” He clicked his fingers at me. “And talking about work, I need you in the office.”

I got up and left the detective to talk to the kid; didn’t matter how many times he tried to find a hole in the kid’s story, there wasn’t one to be had. The kid and my wife had sewn it all up nice and tight and, unlike me, the kid wasn’t a dumb fuck. Besides, the detective might think he was the letter of the law, but he also wanted a decent, legal slush fund to bolster his retirement, which my new club was just too fucking happy to provide.

And as I’d said, the kid was free of guilt.

I went into the office and started stripping off, staring through the blinds at the trash cans lined up out back. The kid kept a neat business, very health and safety; we’d had no rats for the three months he’d taken over, and that included rats that weren’t furry. No dope-head fuckwits allowed. I’d had to change the name on the deeds again, because the one I’d put on wasn’t his real name. He’d made me promise not to go look up anything about him, or ask the detective.

“What did I ever want to know about you in the first place?” I said, as he screwed me over the kitchen table. “It’s not like I give a shit.”

That made him more energetic, and I was left with a line of bruises where he’d slammed me into the edge of the table with his hips.

Now though, in the office, it was usually a slow, lunch time fuck with me lying back on the desk and holding my knees in the air. He’d been known to actually eat lunch while he was doing it. Said he couldn’t help it if he got horny and hungry at the same time. I kicked off my shoes and jeans and lay naked on the desk, feeling the cold wood beneath me. Let my arms dangle off the sides, legs off the end, and concentrated on not watching all the pictures in my head – they only made me come the moment he walked through the door. When I finally heard the click of the lock as he shut that door behind him, I was gooseflesh all over with a large, hot cock that dripped for him. He loomed over me with a grin and tweaked it. Dabbled his fingers over the top then rubbed them together.

“You’re just so messy.”

He tapped my legs and I held them up behind the knees; his fingers crawled inside my hole. Then his tongue.

“Hungry,” he said, putting his mouth everywhere it shouldn’t be. “Gonna eat you up.”

Which was no different from the first time he’d kissed me, like he wanted to eat me alive. Well, here I was, served up for him.

He devoured me for a while longer, his mouth jumping from place to place until I was soaking with him and he was licking his lips. Then he opened a desk drawer and took out one of the beers he kept there. Drank it down, dribbling a bit into my mouth, handed me the half empty bottle and sat on the swivel chair that a few months ago had belonged to me.

“There’s a word for people like you,” I said, kneeling on the desk with my back to him and my legs out wide.

“Yeah,” said the kid, “the word’s voyeur. I looked it up – or at least, I asked your wife.”

“Any more words you’ve learnt, Einstein?”

“Narcissist. That’s a man who’s in love with himself… oh, and don’t spill the rest of that beer. I’m going to suck it out of you.”

I sank down onto the tip of the bottle, which was narrow enough to slip in sweetly and make me sigh with the cold. After a second of letting him see my pucker close over the second rim and hearing him catch his breath, I said:

“You think I’m in love with myself?”

“We’ve already had this conversation.”

“Remind me.”

I edged myself down the bottle to the bottom of the neck, just where it flared out. The kid reached out a finger and stroked my stretched crack and the skin around the bottle.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured. “And so fucking mine. Anyway – the night I finally got my dick into you, and long overdue that was I can tell you, I distinctly remember telling you that all you ever wanted to do was to -,”

“To screw myself. And because I thought you were me,” I put a hand behind me and started to push the bottle now, twisting it slowly so it began to make headway into my caving hole. It fucking hurt, but then everything the kid did to me hurt at some point. I took a breath, then went on. “If you were me, then every time I was inside you, I was really inside myself.”

The kid stood up and pushed the swivel chair round the other side of the desk, raising it to it’s full height so I could rest my head and hands on it. That way, my butt and its bottle was sticking up in the air, beer starting to trickle into me.

“Here, I’ll do it,” said the kid, putting a hand on the bottle and twisting it none too gently. “That’s all you ever wanted after all.”

I might have made a sound, like a question, but the stretch in my pucker and the beer suddenly tipping down my insides pretty much did me in. The kid carried on twisting, but at the same time he rubbed my back up and down the spine and hummed in that very fucking annoying way he had. When the bottle was in and I was leaking over the desk from cock and ass, he said:

“First time you saw me, you wanted me to fuck you. It took me forever to work it out – I just had to take the decision away from you, so you never have to feel guilty about giving it up.”

He pulled the bottle out of me suddenly, stuffed something in its place. Tissue. Then went and lay on the small sofa on the other side of the room. Hands behind his head.

“You better get that ass over here and over my face before it’s not just beer I’m drinking.”

So I went and crouched over his mouth, and he pulled the tissue out and let the beer trickle over his lips. Drank me down and licked me clean.

“No accidents.” he said, biting my ass cheek. “D’you want me to fuck you now?”

I collapsed forward onto the sofa arm.

“It’s up to you.”

“Beg me, then. I like that.”

I bit the sofa material for a second, trying to keep the stars in my head from taking over.

“Please, baby. Fuck Daddy. Fuck me with that lovely cock of yours, and fill me up like I deserve.”

“That should do it,” said the kid, undoing his fly, crawling over me and pouring himself in with an easy stroke. It was one of those days when he’d decided to wear that diamond ring, and I felt it scraping up me every inch of the way. “You see how you can make me do anything? You own me. I belong to you.”

And it was fucking strange, but every time he screwed me in his office, or his flat, or late at night in the diner with the lights on and the blinds up – every time, I could barely stand just how much he really was mine.

After he’d filled me up all over again and let me soak the sofa – “you’re cleaning that up after” – we sat on the one dry cushion, me without a stitch on and him fully dressed, and ate the sandwich he’d brought in with him. Or at least, I fed it to him as he curled around me, all dopey and pleased with himself.

“Tell me about screwing my wife,” I said.

He got a bit less dopey and looked up at me sharply.

“He got round to mentioning that, then?”

“I would’ve figured it out at some point, even if I am three years of slow on the uptake. Still,” I held a bit of food just out of reach of his mouth, “better late than never.”

The kid batted his fucking eyelashes at me and I let the food fall in. He ran a finger down my inner thigh, away from my poor, exhausted cock.

“You know it was all about you anyway.”

“Do I?”

He kissed me.

“I’d have told you when it was happening, only you never asked.”

“Didn’t know ‘are you shagging my ex?’ was one of the questions I needed to ask.”

“It wasn’t.” He nodded for some more sandwich and, of course, I gave it to him. “All you had to ask was what I did when you weren’t there.”

“Looks like you did my wife.”

He reached over and smoothed a hand over my brow.

“Don’t be like that, all hurt and cross. It gives you frown lines.”

“You’re a fucking little prick, you know that?”

“And when I screwed her, we pretended I was you, and I did all the things you used to do to me.”

“Oh,” I said, and thought about what that meant for a while. The kid waited for me to catch up, and spent the time curling the hair at the nape of my neck round his little finger. Eventually he said:

“She came by one time, when you’d done one of your disappearing acts because you’d left this fucking enormous bruise on my head. She got all mad with you, until I offered to show her how it happened. Then she cried a bit, said she loved you, and away we went. Every time you fucked off, I’d go and stay with her. That way, neither of us got lonely.”

“Useful.”

“And why not?” He curled around me tighter. “She wasn’t your girlfriend anymore, and I wasn’t your lover. You made that clear every time you put your cock in me.”

“You’re my lover now.”

“You mean, now it’s your ass we’re whoring out and not mine?”

“No. I mean, if you go anywhere near her again, I’ll cut your precious dick off and keep it in a jar by my bedside.”

He laughed. Grew harder again. Told me he wasn’t my lover but my slave, and I could do anything to him.

“Ask me something,” I said, helping him peel off his clothes. “Anything.”

I pulled him over me so I was holding his ass and his long cock was level with my face; and kissed it. He struggled for a moment, then said:

“Do you like me?”

I took his cock into my mouth and explored it with my tongue, then pushed it out.

“Sometimes. Most times.”

“And the other times?”

“They’re the times I love you. Now be quiet, my naughty slave boy, and let me taste you.”

So he let his hips fall forward and we found a way to make the lunch break go well for both of us.

In a lot of ways the kid was just like a kid, always working out the limits, how far he could push me. He was fascinated by what I’d let him do – which, as he was rapidly finding out, was everything. One night he cuffed and gagged me face down on the bed and the next thing I knew, there was an enormous hot dick, which most definitely wasn’t the kid’s, trying to poke a hole through my insides. When the dick was all the way inside, the kid said:

“Is it safe to let you go now?”

To which I just managed to nod. He un-cuffed me and some huge guy pulled me, still skewered on him, into his lap. It was the male nurse. The kid popped the gag out of my mouth and popped his own cock in. Winked at me.

“You did say you wanted to sort the two cocks thing out, remember?”

I bit him on the way down, but otherwise stayed nice and quiet because the nurse was petting me with his huge paws and it felt good. The kid had made it easy, taking the decision away like he always did. And after, the nurse and me took it in turns to bugger the little shit until he didn’t know which way to scream.

The nurse was a regular joy. He liked to clean the kid inside and out, knew how to do it right, and bizarrely the kid didn’t mind. Nor did I, so long as I could sit on the sofa while it was going on and not see anything; just hold the kid when he came out to cry on me. It felt ok to be the one comforting and not the one hurting him.

I let the nurse have a go at me just the once, because the kid made it a condition of me having a roof over my head. As soon as the tube went in, I lost it almost as badly as when the kid had given himself up to the detective, only this time I think I was shouting some stuff that got them both real scared. Whatever, the nurse disappeared sharpish and it was just me and the kid, sitting in the shower, him singing me fucking lullabies. He never asked me again. And not long after, the nurse stopped coming by.

“We’re ok on our own, aren’t we?” said the kid.

I told him if he wanted, I’d shoot the next person who tried to fuck him. Well, the next person who wasn’t me. And he said:

“I’ll never ask you for anything.”

So I swore there and then I’d never fuck another person but him until we were both dead.

“Romantic,” he said. “Kind of Shakespeare.”

I kissed him.

“I can be very fucking poetic.”

Then something happened that neither of us was expecting. I got real busy setting up the new club, spending whole days there with the detective coming by to make bad suggestions and drink my good Scotch. The kid lost his cook and had to do his own cooking for a while, which was truly fucking hysterical when the only thing I’d seen him put a hand to was a can of beans. I wondered out loud if he’d learnt to use a can opener yet, and got a sour look through the smoke pouring off a grill pan. When we got to bed at night – either in the diner, or in the sleeping bag on the club floor, but always together – neither of us could raise a dime, let alone our pricks. By the time the club was ready to open, we’d done nothing but talk for a month of night times, until one of us fell asleep. Usually him. It was kind of nice to know he was finally losing that constant hard-on that came with youth.

“I take toilet breaks,” he muttered when I asked him if he was bothered. “I stuck up those Polaroids on the wall, the ones I took of you all pathetic and needy after we got back.”

I’d forgotten about those. Really should take another look sometime, because from what I remembered, pathetic and needy had been taken to mean ‘tie the old man up with that gaffer tape from the hardware store’. Besides, I was a narcissist, and staring at my own strangled cock made me very horny.

“How about you?” he said, sinking further down into the sleeping bag.

“Wet dreams.”

“Oh.” He sniffed the bag. “That explains a lot.”

Suddenly, it was the night before opening. Things weren’t so different from where we’d started out – I still had an ex, even if it was an ex wife by now; I had a club; and I had someone who looked at me like they’d kneel down and worship me if I asked. Which, sometimes, I did. Plus the kid had made sure I kept the flat that came with the club, so when we got bored of staring at his four walls, we could stare at mine.

When all the new staff had gone, the detective had finally staggered out of the back door and into a cab and it was just us, I stood him under the central staircase and took his clothes off. The staircase was spiral, twisting round one very large meat hook suspended from the ceiling and hovering over six feet off the ground. We’d been allowed to keep it only because there were gates stopping anyone from standing under it. Luckily, I had the key.

I cuffed him to the hook and taped his ankles together so he swung back and forth like a sacrifice victim, his feet not quite reaching the floor. His cock was up and straining and his head fell back to stare at the ceiling.

“Too much?” I said, watching his cock turn deepest purple red. “Because you know I don’t give a shit, since this is my place, and my rules.” I relented a bit though, and rubbed ice into his balls until we managed to bring him down from the point of agony. He let some tears fall, and I licked them off his cheeks.

“It occurs to me,” I said, taking out the leather piece that I’d grown so fond of, “that I've never really told you off for screwing my wife.”

The kid shuddered from head to tied-up feet, and struggled slightly on the hook. I let the leather stroke his ass, which was all clenched and rounded, then held a palm-full of ice to his dick to stop any accidents. I’d never been into cock rings much, because I like my kid to have self-restraint, but there was probably a point where I’d have to look into one for him. I shifted his weight on the hook so he was facing the far wall, which was one big video screen, and held up the remote control.

“Remember this?”

I pushed the on button, and the kid’s face appeared on the screen, three – almost four – years younger, blowing me a kiss. There was no sound, but the camera panned down to show him cupping himself, then lying back on the bed in the old flat. His soft ass hole opened up across the screen, and his balls and dick stood proud. The kid shook against me in his restraints. He really was just like me – a total fucking narcissist.

“Now,” I whispered against his back, “show Daddy how well you can count.”

After I’d patterned his back and ass, I criss-crossed his chest and dick until the leather slipped off with the sweat. Poured iced water into his mouth and started again, then lowered him to the ground, still cuffed to the hook, and lifted his clenched butt onto my cock. He looked so beautiful stretched out for me, I came twice. On the screen, he dallied with the first inch of my dick and practised his daily butt exercises until I was screaming.

“Go on,” I said, seeing how his eyes were nearly all black at the sight of himself. I crouched down and he came on my face, and I made him lick it off. Just like the old days.

After, we revisited all the old haunts as he crawled along the new bar crammed full of ice, and I turned the dance floor lights on and made him dance to some song that always made me think of him – just one line, something about ‘this boy’s life, under the electric lights’. That was the kid, all right. Glowing under the spot lights, made to live indoors. With me.

We slept in the club’s flat for the first time that night, and he giggled when he saw the new pair of hideous blue pyjamas I’d left on the bed. He disappeared the next day and I didn’t see him at all. Only well into the evening, when all the guests for the opening night had got drunk and were pretending to dance, and I was standing at the balcony outside the office, only then I noticed a boy – a man, really – with just a leather jacket and jeans on. No shirt. He was stood on the dance floor, nodding his head like it was proper dancing. One of the guests was trying to talk to him, and he smiled at her and let her whisper into his ear. But while he was smiling, he lifted his eyes to the balcony, searching. Looking for something. And in the end, what he found was me.