Blurb: Tate and Sebastian spend more and more time at their boyfriend/Dom James’ home but when they receive a notice of eviction from their apartment they hesitate to examine the obvious solution – moving in with James. In the meantime, James and his longtime friend Catherine plan an elaborate fetish party at Catherine’s club in Gatineau – La Petite Mort. Tate is apprehensive and James does what he can to allay his fears, including taking both young men to the club on an ordinary night. But an ordinary night with James proves anything but as he indulges his love of sexual game-playing.
No other series I’ve read about a menage relationship compares to the depth Elizabeth Lister goes into exploring the men from her stories in The James Lucas and The Loft trilogies. I can’t recommend this beautifully written series, or The Loft Book Two, enough and I’d give it ten stars if I could.
~ Trio, Kimmer’s Erotic Book Banter Blog
James couldn’t skate well.
But he agreed to join me and Sebastian at Dow’s Lake on a sunny winter afternoon in February. And even though he complained more than we were used to–about his rented skates, about the cold, and about the humiliation of being passed by speeding eight-year-olds–we had a great time. It was strange for me and Sebastian to be the experienced and competent ones and James the ingenue. I don’t think he liked it very much, but I definitely enjoyed it. To see our ever-proficient Dom lose his balance and fall on his ass several times soothed my rebellious heart. It almost made up for the many times he’d caused my ass to ache from a paddling or a hand spanking. Sure, I loved all that and didn’t hold it against him, but it was still fun to see James struggle for control on the slippery ice. The one time he caught me laughing he swore I’d regret it when we got back to his place. But that threat just made me laugh more.
We stopped for Beavertails and hot chocolate–an absolute necessity when visiting the World’s Longest Skating Rink–which seemed to mollify James, and he didn’t complain as much on our way back to the Pavilion. Of course, he was probably focused on devising an appropriate punishment for me.
By the time we got back to James’ house after dropping Sebastian off at Pet Luv for his evening shift, James’ mood had definitely improved, and I wondered if I might escape his wrath for once. Now that he was off the skates, he admitted it hadn’t been all that bad and thanked me for suggesting that we go.
We went upstairs to change out of our damp gear, James to his room and me to the spare room where Sebastian and I slept when we stayed over.
As I arranged my clothes to dry on the back of a chair James called down the hall. “There’s lots of room in the shower if you’d like to join me.”
How could I resist?
The en suite shower in James’ master suite, as I’d quickly discovered in those early days, was very large. Plenty big enough for two. The en suite was a veritable wet room and the large double shower had no glass door or curtain. Lined with gray tile and equipped with bench, cubbies, and state of the art rain showerheads, it was like being at a private spa.
“In you go,” James said, turning on one of the showerheads and directing me to stand beneath it. “I’ll be right back.”
I watched him walk out the door with some trepidation. Naked as he was I didn’t think he’d go far. But I was always nervous when James did something unexpected. The guy was a virtuoso when it came to sexual game playing.
Sure enough, he came back into the bathroom carrying one of my skates.
“What the hell are you gonna do with that?” I asked, worried. I’d just had the blades sharpened.
James gave me a sly look and laid the skate on the bathroom counter. Then he began to slowly pull the lace out of it, glancing at me with mysterious intent as he did so. What was he planning? I shook the water out of my eyes and continued to wash myself as he extracted the dirty white lace from the skate boot.
When he had it free he balled it up in his fist and joined me in the shower, luckily leaving the skate itself on the bathroom counter. He came under the hot water with me and immediately captured my lips with his, kissing me with obvious passion. Then he pulled back.
He held out his fist and opened it so that the black skate lace unfurled from its anchor point between his fingers.
I glanced at him, wondering at his plans.
He held it up under the water, wetting it thoroughly, then began to glide it over my skin, starting at my neck and shoulders but moving ever so slowly downward.
It felt like a tiny wet snake or sea creature caressing me. I closed my eyes to enjoy it even more, not knowing where it would land next. He took his time, sliding it over my wet buttocks, up my abdomen, over my shoulder, giving my skin the occasional soft kiss in its wake. This was James’ skill. Taking something as simple and innocent as the lace from an old pair of skates and turning it into an implement of erotic seduction.
Finally, after teasing me for a very long time, he reached down and deftly tied the wet lace around the base of my erection, behind my balls, where it became the perfect makeshift cock ring.
“That will teach you to make fun of my skating skills.”
My chest moved with fast breaths as I stared at him, desire flaming inside me. “Yes, Sir.”
He took the long end of the lace and wound it over and over around the top of my balls, pushing the testicles down so they ached with tension. He secured it somehow so that my junk was trussed like a stuffed piglet. It hurt, but in a good way–as usual. There were safety scissors in the bathroom vanity. James kept safety scissors in every room of the house because he never knew where he might be inspired to tie one of us up.
“That will keep you quiet.”
“Reach up and hold onto the showerhead.”
I did, my hands grasping the warm steel as the water coursed over my bent head and shoulders.
I watched through heavy lids as James dropped to his knees and grasped my cock in his right hand. He looked up at me before taking it into his mouth. I gasped as the silky wetness of his mouth enveloped me. I felt my balls tighten painfully in their bonds with each wave of pleasure as he sucked.
“Oh, James,” I moaned, then remembered. “Oh, Sir. Oh, fuck. Yes.”
He sucked harder and rubbed my swollen balls with his thumb. I protested feebly, knowing it was useless. He had me by my own skate lace.
My hands clenching the metal showerhead, I stared down at him as he deftly teased and tortured me.
“Sir, please…” I begged, for what I’m not sure. I didn’t want him to stop but I needed something more. He seemed to understand. He released me, rising wet and wanton from my feet.
As soon as I did he turned me around, grabbing the bottle of lube he kept in one of the shower alcoves. Soon I felt his slippery fingers delving into the crack of my ass and I widened my stance, yelping as he pushed one deep into me. The pleasure undid me as always. All my pretenses fell away as he took this intimacy. I moaned a quiet, “Yesssss.”
His heavy breathing tickling my neck; he reached around and circled my cock with his other hand, stroking firmly.
“So soft, but so very hard,” he breathed, pulling on my dick and pressing that one finger into me with rigid insistence. My balls ached, and I wanted more.
“Fuck me, Sir. Please.”
“When I’m ready.”
I whimpered as his finger deliberately rubbed my prostate. I needed to hold on to something so I grabbed the showerhead again, dissolving with pleasure, anchored only by the ache in my balls.
James added a second then a third finger, loosening and preparing me, driving me mad with desire. When I couldn’t stand it any longer he stopped and came into me himself, his lubed cock easily finding its way. He pushed in deep, holding my hips tight.
“How does that feel?”
“Wonderful, as always,” I panted.
“How are your balls?” he asked, reaching around to stroke them.
I moaned at the sensation his touch caused. “Sore, Sir. Aching for you.”
He smiled against my neck. “Good.”
He fucked me, holding my hips and going deep and slow, dragging it out until I begged him.
“Please, I’m so close…”
“Wait. Wait.” He sped up, his movements becoming less measured. I could tell when he came because he stilled, his fingers squeezing me as a tiny high-pitched moan escaped his lips. He said my name.
My eyes locked on the laceless skate beside the sink. I wanted to grasp my own dick and bring myself to orgasm but I didn’t dare, not without a direct instruction. I waited for James to finish.
He kissed my neck as he pulled out then turned me around to face him.
“Beautiful boy,” he said, dropping to his knees once more.
He took me in his mouth and brought me quickly to the edge. I moaned loudly as I felt my captured balls try to pull into my body, the pain making the orgasm take longer to manifest. But when it did it about blew my head off. I yelled and gripped the showerhead as the pleasure/pain tore through me, body spasming with welcome release, James strong hand bringing me home. When it was done, I whimpered and shook until James stood and embraced me. I let go of the showerhead, my arms wrapping around him, my head on his strong shoulder.
“I had fun today, at the canal.”
“Even though you complained the whole time?”
“It was nice having you boys look after me.”
“Yeah, well, you did pretty good for a first timer. Obviously, you have skills in other areas.”
“Ah yes. Speaking of which, I’ve been invited to a fetish party at La Petite Mort in Gatineau.”
A thrill of excitement combined with fear ran up my spine.
“Oh, yeah?” I pulled back. “La Petite Mort? That’s a great name for a…”
“It’s a club. A very nice one. My friend Catherine owns it.”
“I want to bring you and Sebastian. Obviously.”
James laughed. For once he couldn’t read me. “Would you like to…come?”