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The flier taped to the glass door of the business next to Ed’s shop says the grand opening of “Unraveled: A Fiber Studio” will be next week. He has seen and heard construction on and off all month but has yet to meet anyone. The workers often arrive early in the morning before Ed’s tattoo and piercing parlor, Inkwell, is open. The new paint smell from Unraveled is so strong it still emanates through the glass door.
Ed hunches against the new business window, covering his eyes for a better look inside. He can see shelves lining the whole north wall, columns of yarn that create a rainbow spectrum of bright colors, even in the dim light of the closed storefront. There are tables in front of the main window, probably the best place to get natural light, and a few dress forms scattered about the place, sporting hand-knit sweaters, shawls, and scarves. It looks cozy and cute, as far as Ed can tell. It might be a bit strange to share a store wall with them since their demographic of customers will likely be very different types, but hell, Ed thinks, it’s better than an empty storefront.
He heads into his own shop.
A few hours later, Ed is sitting behind the Inkwell front desk, scrolling the kink social networking site FetLife on his phone when a blonde man pops his head into the shop. Ed quickly taps the side of his phone to darken the screen, which previously had a photo of a man coming over a latex-covered face with only eyes, nose, and small mouth hole openings on the mask. Ed isn’t into latex anyway, but you never know what will show up on your feed when scrolling mindlessly on Fet.
He sets the phone face down just in case and looks up at the customer. “Can I help you?” he asks.
The man is white, tall, about Ed’s age (mid-forties), with floppy blonde curls and freckles. He might be fit, but the bulky winter coat and chunky knit cowl cover most of his visible body. He’s giving solid dad-bod vibes, and Ed is into it. He opens his jacket once he’s surrounded by the warm air of the shop, and Ed gets a glimpse of the sexy rectangle of a man. He seems to have some evident squish to hold onto along his edges, and yes, Ed is extremely into it. His rosy cheeks and hazel eyes gaze down to where Ed sits and he smiles infectiously. Ed smiles back without even thinking about it.
“Hi there, I’m Stede Bonnet. I’m your new neighbor!” he says, reaching a hand over the desk for Ed to take.
Ed stands to take his hand and pumps it firmly. A strong grip, soft hands, and six whole seconds of skin-on-skin contact before he releases. Ed has always been a hands man, and Stede’s are grade-A, manicured, moisturized mitts that he imagines smell (and taste) delicious.
Down boy,
Ed thinks to himself. He really shouldn’t scroll FetLife while on the clock. It gets him all worked up and horny.
“Ed Teach,” he responds. “Owner here at
Inkwell
.”
Stede brightens visibly. “Oh, wonderful! I was hoping to meet you today. We’re having a grand opening party next week, and I wanted to extend an invitation to you and your staff to come join us. There will be champagne and cupcakes. And discounts on yarn, if you’re a stitchy person, that is,” he says with a wink.
Ed bows his head and smiles sheepishly. Fucking hell, a wink? Damn, this man is adorable. “Not the kind of needles I play with, unfortunately,” he says, and gestures to the tattoo designs and framed pictures of piercings on the wall behind him, “but yeah, I’ll make an appearance. Gotta support the small biz crew.”
Stede beams and then glances up at the frames, gasping. “These pieces are breathtaking! Which ones are yours?”
Ed points to a number of the designs and to a close-up artistic shot of a woman’s breast with glittering gold jewelry in the shape of a sun circling and piercing through her nipple. The shop’s resident amateur photographer, Archie, took the photo in the back alley while the sun was setting. The golden-hour glow hit the jewelry and the woman’s bronze skin perfectly, making what could have been a trashy tit-pic into a brilliant work of art.
Stede looks over the framed photographs with a look of awe and wonder. “Stunning, truly. I don’t have any body art or modifications myself, but I have always adored them,” he says wistfully.
Ed mentally sighs. Despite his obvious attraction to the sunshiny man in the chunky knit cowl who probably sips tea and wears reading glasses, Ed guesses that he is probably straight, conservative, and vanilla. Ed’s freak flag needs to be able to flow freely and with abandon, not tucked back into the closet. He is in the midst of an unending search for a good Dom, someone who knows how to handle a subby brat like Ed. Someone who doesn’t have to be trained, who’s been around the block a time or two. Not a cute, gentle, middle-aged man who probably has a wife and kids at home. He probably has a fucking golden retriever with an ironically human name like Daniel. He probably knits shawls for the old folks at his church.
Ed resigns himself to lust from afar.
“I’ll let the rest of the staff know about your party. If there are free snacks, we will absolutely be there,” Ed says with a forced grin.
Stede’s eyes lose a bit of their twinkle as he gathers he’s being given a farewell, but his smile stays in place. “Great! Looking forward to meeting the rest of your talented artists in residence,” he says and raps his knuckles twice on the top of the desk to punctuate his sentence.
“I’ll be there with bells on,” Ed jokes.
Stede gives Ed a quick once-over, his eyes settling on the hawk tattoo at the hollow of his throat. He licks his lips, seemingly lost in thought. “That would be a sight to see,” he says, then meets Ed’s eyes again. He beams like the thought of Ed with a bell at his throat - not what he meant, but okay, hello, yes, please - was a delightful thought.
Before Ed can respond to
that
, Stede has turned and is flitting out of the shop to head back into his storefront with a “Ta-ta!”
“Huh,” Ed says aloud, then picks his phone back up to keep scrolling.
A new event catches his eye.
The local dungeon, ironically named
The Red Flag
, puts on various kink events, classes, demonstrations, and vendor nights, and Ed likes to give them business whenever he can. He knows the polycule that runs the space through Archie, and they're all awesome people. The owner of the club, Zheng, is absolutely brilliant and the type of Pro-Domme bitch that Ed fantasizes about. The club has posted an event invite and flier on the FetLife feed, stating that a guest instructor will be joining them tomorrow night.
“The Gentleman Sadist
,” Ed reads, sitting up straight in his chair, almost toppling out of it when he recognizes the user name, “
will be hosting an impact play class at The Red Flag Saturday night. DM Queenie if you’d like to be a demo bottom for the class! Only experienced bottom volunteers, please, this is not a beginner course. The Gentleman Sadist hopes to showcase an array of advanced moves and would prefer to not baby a newb. Masochists and pain sluts to the front of the class!”
He’s never shot off a FetLife DM faster in his life. He clicks into Zheng’s profile, username “Queenie,” with its long list of various partners linked to it, and clicks the direct message button. “Giiiiiiiirrrrrlllllll! I am ur demo bottom! U know I have over 20 years experience and am a total pain slut. Let me at that man!” Ed types so quickly that he has to go back and edit a handful of mistakes in the message before he hits send.
Ed has been following The Gentleman Sadist’s account for years. The profile is anonymous, his location set to Antarctica, and the only pictures of the man are from the neck down, but my god, the body on that headless man! Though Ed has never seen his face, he knows he wants to get fucked by this man within an inch of his life. Even if it’s the last thing he does with his life, he’s bound and determined to, and this opportunity is too golden to pass up.
The Gentleman’s other pictures, which Ed fawns over, are of his work. Intricate rope rigging, decorative needle piercing work (the kind of needles with feathers on the end so he can pierce an entire set of wings into a model’s back), and various photos of impact play marks: bruises, rope indentations, hickies, scratches, and bite marks. Of all the beautiful, willing models, the ones who show their faces look blissed out. The sub-space eyes of a person well-fucked or, at the very least, well-kinked. Ed was fascinated with the mystery man.
Ed’s profile is similarly anonymous. As a business owner, even an alternative one, he doesn’t want to make things weird with customers or staff, though his tattoos would give him away to anyone really paying attention.
Queenie replies to his DM a moment later:
Girl, yes. I don’t even know why I posted an ad looking for a bottom. I should have just asked you directly. You’ll be perfect. The Gentleman Sadist is going to love you. We can’t pay you to be a demo bottom (legally), but you’ll get in free and can take as much time as you need in the sub-drop spa afterward. Jim will be on the doors. Just let them know you’ll be the demo when you get here. See you tomorrow!
Ed would pay to get his ass beat by The Gentleman Sadist, but he keeps that to himself.
He taps his phone to his chin in thought. Getting to meet The Gentleman Sadist would be lovely on its own, sure, but he wants more. Ed makes up his mind to shoot his shot with this man and see if he can get more than just the demo bottom treatment. Hell, a phone number or consent to DM on Fet would suffice. But one way or another, Ed is going to offer himself up on a silver platter to The Gentleman Sadist and hope the man is hungry.
🧶 🧶 🧶
Standing in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom, Ed surveys his slutitude. He doesn’t want to look like he’s trying too hard, but he still wants to be the prettiest boy at the ball. He thinks he’s doing a fairly good job at sending a clear message of intent. A purple fishnet mesh top that stands out beautifully against his dark skin and inky black tattoos, nothing but his pierced nipples underneath, a pleated black leather skirt that stops at mid-thigh, red lace panties, and matching thigh-high fishnets with leather garter belts secured tightly around each thigh to keep them up. He finishes the outfit off with his black combat boots, an array of silver rings, and smudged smokey-eye makeup. He messes with his curls until he gets that perfect “freshly fucked” look that makes most folks go wild.
Yes, the message is clear,
Ed thinks,
I’m here to be ruined.
Jim is taking IDs and the password to get in at the door tonight, and they nod at Ed when he steps up to the club, already shivering from the quick trip from his Lyft to the door in the brisk winter cold. Ed steps inside and Jim lifts a brow at him, giving him an appraising once-over.
“Muy caliente, hombrecito,” Jim says, a wide smile on their slender face. “Looks like you’re gunning for an invite to the polycule dressed like that,” they joke. Or Ed assumes it’s a joke. He’s probably twice Jim’s age, yet Ed isn’t sure age really matters to anyone here. The ever-growing polycule that runs the club always seems to be accepting “new applicants,” as it were. And if Ed wasn’t terrified he would fuck something up with one of them and then not be able to use the club anymore, he would have taken a shot at one - or all - of them long ago. He can map the degrees of relationships through most of his friends back to the club and he’d rather not set fire to that map.
Ed tucks a loose slut strand behind his ear and smiles back at Jim. The wall of warm air inside the club feels like a welcoming hug. “Wanted to make a good first impression,” he says.
Jim nods. “Ah yes, Señor Sadist. He’s set up on the stage at the back of the club. You can’t miss him. He’s expecting you,” they say, gesturing their head in the direction of the raised platform in the back of the room. The side of the stage facing the front of the room is covered by tall privacy curtains hanging from the ceiling, long strips of red velvet, usually pulled forward when there’s a potentially triggering scene on the stage so only the folks who want to watch will see.
Ed’s breath catches in a fit of nervous energy. He feels silly, getting butterflies for a complete stranger who he’s never seen, but he can’t deny the heat of arousal he gets from the idea of this stranger doing whatever he wants with him. He makes his way through the small gathering of kinksters. It’s early in the night, but the announcement of a special guest has the club busier than usual.
He rounds the side of the stage and finally catches sight of the man, his back turned to him as he lays out floggers, paddles, and rope along one side of a black massage table. He has a head of blonde hair, slicked back, long enough to curl around his ears and at the nape of his neck, and he’s wearing a powder blue suit. Leather and lace were common in the dungeon, but a suit – now that was different. Not even a black suit, but baby blue! The Gentleman is a freak, and Ed likes it.
“The Gentleman Sadist, I presume?” Ed says, voice low and sultry as he steps up onto the platform behind the man. He turns, and they both take a half-step back in shock.
“You’ve heard of me?” The Gentleman says, except he’s not The Gentleman, he’s Stede. Stede Bonnet, knitting neighbor with the cute freckles and the piercing hazel eyes. Presumed vanilla, conservative, cishet white man, Stede Bonnet.
Ed gasps, biting his tongue so as not to say Stede’s name aloud. It’s a big no-no in the kink scene to say folks’ legal names – can get you banned from the whole scene – so he swallows it and responds instead with an eloquent, “Uh…” Their eyes meet, and a silent message of acknowledgment is shared between them, then, trying to right this ship that has gone way off course already, Ed adds, “I’ve heard all about you.”
Stede smiles and then he seems to take in Ed’s outfit, his mouth falling open, slack-jawed. His gaze travels from Ed’s face to his chest, skirt, thigh-highs, and boots, then slowly back up. His eyes look darker when they meet back up with Ed’s, a hungry, breathless look on his face. He steps forward and extends his hand. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he says, lifting his inflection at the end of his sentence to ask Ed his scene name.
“I go by Blackbeard on Fet, but folks here just call me BB,” Ed says, taking Stede’s hand. Still soft, still strong, but the images that flash in Ed’s head about his hands are far more nefarious than they were the day before.
Stede’s face brightens. “Oh! Queenie told me to expect you. I’ll be honest, I was expecting a black beard,” he says, placing his other hand over their clasped ones to wrap his fingers around Ed’s wrist and draw him a fraction closer.
Ed’s breath catches. “Yeah, haven’t had much of a black beard in a minute. More gray beard now, or no beard since I cut the length off,” Ed says, pointing to his current short silvering stubble with his free hand, a far cry from the dark, long beard he used to sport. Their clasped hands hold tightly between their bodies.
Stede’s eyes trail down to Ed’s lips and chin. “So you’ll be my demo bottom today,” he says, not a question but a declaration.
“Yep,” Ed responds, his “p” popping in a huff of breath that’s close enough to Stede’s face that it bounces back at him.
“Then I’m going to need some information from you,” Stede says, releasing his hand finally, and turning to guide Ed to the massage table. “May I touch you?” he asks with his palm hovering so close to Ed’s back that he can feel the warmth of it.
Ed nods.
“I only respond to verbal consent. So, I will ask you again, may I touch you?” Stede repeats, and the command in his voice makes Ed melt.
“Yes, you may,” Ed responds quickly.
Stede’s hand fits into the curve of Ed’s lower spine and he guides him to the array of supplies and kinky items on the table. “Good boy,” he says and smirks audibly at Ed’s quick intake of breath. His warm palm glides smoothly up and down Ed’s spine as he talks. “I like to exchange safety information with my bottoms before we scene. Risk awareness profiles, regardless of whether sex is on the table, pet names you like or do not like, safe words, turn-ons, and turn-offs. I’ll go first,” he says, turning Ed around gently and pushing him back against the table. Stede scoops his hands under Ed’s ass to lift him a few inches to perch on the edge.
Ed makes a quiet squeaking noise, caught off-guard by the movement, then clears his throat to cover it up. Stede chuckles and opens Ed’s legs to stand between them, placing a finger under Ed’s chin to lift his face so their eyes meet. “I don’t intend to fuck you tonight, but that does not mean you won’t come. Do you have any interest in coming tonight?”
Ed nods and then remembers himself. “Yes, uh, if it’s on the table then yes, I’d enjoy that.”
The side of Stede’s mouth twitches upward minutely. “‘Yes, Sir,’ if you please,” he instructs.
“Yes, Sir,” Ed repeats.
“Good boy. And I assume ‘good boy’ is okay? Do you enjoy pet names?” he asks, his hands tracing lines up and down Ed’s thighs as they chat.
“Yes, Sir. I love them.”
“I find myself saying things like darling, boy, pet, love, and such during scenes, all acceptable to you?”
“Yes, Sir. Love that,” Ed says. He can feel his body begin to bounce in nervous anticipation. “I like dirty names too. Love being called a slut, whore, really anything you feel comfortable with, I’ll respond to. Sir.”
Stede smiles brightly. “Lovely,” he says, a hand trailing up to Ed’s throat and wrapping around the nape of his neck. “I’ve been tested this month and negative for everything. Again, I don’t foresee it happening tonight, but I like to share my status, as well as my safety protocols. I use barriers for all penetrative sex with new partners. This includes condoms, dental dams, and gloves for whatever is applicable. Yourself?”
“Tested a couple of months ago, all clear, no new partners since. I’ll use any barriers my partner wants me to use.”
Stede’s thumb plays across Ed’s throat. It feels to Ed as if he’s searching for his pulse, and Ed tries to not be mortified by the idea of Stede finding that his pulse is racing uncontrollably. “No partners in months? How is that even possible?”
A bubble of laughter cuts the tension slightly as it escapes Ed’s throat. “It’s hard to find a good Dom in this city,” he says, stretching his head back and looking up at the ceiling as Stede explores his neck with both his hands. He can barely breathe with Stede so close, but he closes his eyes and presses on. “I mean, there are fucking 20-year-old men on Fet identifying as Doms. Old enough to be my fucking kids, and they want me to call them Daddy?” he huffs a choked laugh. “Absolutely the fuck not. It’s a breath of fresh air finding a sex-positive Dom who knows what he’s doing and actually cares about consent.”
Stede hums in agreement, lowering his head to the crook of Ed’s neck and running his nose in a line up from his collarbone to behind his ear. Ed’s whole body shivers. “I used to be a sub,” Stede whispers, so close that Ed can feel the words against his jaw. “I know how hard that search is. Now I identify as a service top dominant. I’m more interested in getting my subs off. If I get a little pleasure in doling out some pain in the meantime, then all the better.”
“The Gentleman Sadist indeed,” Ed whimpers.
Stede chuckles, and it feels like a growl into the column of Ed’s throat. “Safe word?” he asks, pulling back and bringing his hands to either side of Ed’s face to bring them eye to eye again.
Ed thinks for a moment. “Red, Sir.”
“Good, I like the stop-light system with new partners. Green if you’re good, yellow if you need a break, red for full stop. I like to check in regularly while I’m familiarizing myself with a new partner. Are you allergic to latex?”
“No, Sir.”
“Are you vegan?”
Ed stutters, confused, and furrows his brows. “Uh, no. Why?”
“I would never use leather on someone vegan,” he explains.
Ed feels a certain something about that consideration that he can’t put into words.
Stede moves on. “Adverse to me leaving marks?”
“Not at all, Sir.”
“Will you let me know if you feel any sharp, shooting pains, feel a numbing sensation, or become dizzy?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Will you let me know if anything I do makes you feel uncomfortable and use your safe word if you want me to stop at any time?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise, Sir.”
“Good boy. Any turn-ons and or offs I should know about?”
Ed considers the question. “I like physical pain, but not emotional pain. Not into degradation or humiliation. Hurt my ass, not my feelings,” he says after giving it some thought.
Stede barks out a laugh, resting his forehead on Ed’s shoulder and drawing him closer. One of his hands travels back to Ed’s spine, and the other comes to the back of his knee, as he tugs Ed off the table to stand. He turns Ed around so his front is pressed against the table and Stede is close behind so they can survey the goodies on the table.
There’s an array of new and sterilized toys to choose from, wooden paddles, leather floggers, silicone toys, and a few hanks of rope. Ed notes a small kit on the side of the table with needles and alcohol pads. “So you
are
into more than just knitting needles,” Ed jokes quietly.
Stede takes Ed’s hair into his hand and pulls it up off his back so he can run a hand down Ed’s back. “Needles are needles, art is art,” he whispers.
Ed’s body quivers. He places a hand down on the cushioned leather table to steady himself. “Anything here
you
want to try?” Ed asks, his voice only slightly trembling.
Stede shrugs his suit jacket off and lays it on the side of the massage table. He turns to the toys as he rolls the cuffs of his crisp white button-down up his delicious forearms. Ed might be staring at his arms so he doesn’t notice him picking up a little black butt plug until he sets it onto Ed’s palm. When it rolls into his hand, Ed notes the plug jiggles in a way that solid silicone wouldn’t. He grasps it by the flared base and shakes it back and forth. The plug is hollow and there’s a smaller ball inside of the plug that’s moving freely.
“There’s a weighted ball inside that moves when you move,” Stede explains. “So with every spank, sway of your body, or step…”
“I’ll feel it moving inside me,” Ed finishes.
“Mhm. I like to think of it as a constant little reminder to my sub of what’s mine,” Stede says, a smug smirk evident in his voice as his hand travels down to cup the side of Ed’s ass. He gives it a light pat.
Oh yes
, Ed thinks,
this is the one.
Aloud all he can manage is a breathless, “Uh huh, yes, please.”
“Would you like to work yourself open and put it in, or would you like me to do the honors?” he asks.
Ed takes a deep breath. “Can we make it part of the scene?”
A hum of approval vibrates against the back of Ed’s neck as Stede leans in and rests his lips against the base of Ed’s skull for a quick kiss. “Brilliant idea, my darling exhibitionist. Now bend over,” he says, pressing his heated palm against the fishnet fabric across the center of Ed’s back, pushing him down to lie across the table. He kicks Ed’s legs open and flips his skirt up over his back to expose his ass. There's a quiet gasp that Ed can just barely hear over the background music of the club, and Ed glances over his shoulder to see that a small crowd has gathered behind them to watch the show.
Stede steps back and turns to the crowd. “Thank you for coming out tonight. I am The Gentleman Sadist, and I'll be your edutainment for the evening,” Stede begins and gives a brief rundown of his objectives for the demonstration and what he hopes people learn. He rests a hand atop Ed’s ass and squeezes one cheek playfully. “We have a peach of a demo bottom for you all tonight! Playing the part of my pain slut is BB. Say, thank you, BB,” Stede instructs.
“Thank you, Sir,” Ed responds quickly, loud enough for the audience to hear.
“Good boy,” Stede says with a light tap of his palm to Ed’s ass. He then pulls Ed’s panties down to rest right under his ass cheeks but not completely off. Ed’s cock is still trapped within the flimsy red fabric.
Ed folds his arms under his head to rest upon as he listens to the sound of Stede putting latex gloves on. The snap of the gloves has a Pavlovian response in Ed that makes his legs shiver, and he can vaguely hear an excited giggle from someone in the audience.
Stede starts working Ed open for the plug by lubing up a finger and circling his entrance. He’s tentative at first, pressing lightly against the puckered flesh before dipping just a fingertip in, out, and then back in a little deeper, probing inside of him. His touch is detached, almost clinical, and why the fuck does that make Ed hard? Ed feels like a little play thing, Stede’s doll to do with as he pleases, and it excites and delights him to no end.
Stede moves onto two fingers after some gentle exploring, then slips the small plug in easily, the toy moving past the tight ring of muscle with what feels like a “pop”. Ed wiggles his ass and feels the inner ball move. It’s a strange sensation, like a vibrator on its lowest setting, just a slight random movement instead of a consistent buzz.
Once the plug is situated, Stede snaps the gloves off and tosses them in a nearby bin. He rubs his warm, soft palms against Ed’s ass, then gives him a gentle pat. Even the pat makes the plug move, and Ed lets out a nervous giggle and huff.
“Ready for me?” Stede’s smooth voice asks.
“Mhm,” Ed says, before remembering the rule. “Yes, Sir. I’m ready,” he adds quickly.
“I’d like you to count for me, can you do that, Darling?”
“Yes, Sir,” he says, nodding so enthusiastically that the plug jiggles in his ass.
“Good boy,” Stede says, rubbing his backside in soothing circles. Ed almost moans, but it comes out more like a purring growl. Stede pulls his hand away, and Ed’s ass feels cold without its reassuring presence. Then Ed is jolted forward on the massage table as Stede’s hand comes down hard onto the meat of his ass.
Ed yelps, and the plug rocks back and forth, the inner ball bouncing off its walls. The shocking sting of the first hit makes a bubble of laughter come out of him, and then there’s silence while Stede waits patiently. “Oh!” Ed says, coming back to himself, “One! Sir!”
Stede chuckles, a deep amused sound from his throat. “Good boy, but you’re going to have to be quicker than that. Now pay attention. We’re going to go for 10 to warm you up.”
“Yes, Sir-” he says, interrupted by the next strike. “Two!” he yelps. He turns his head in his arms to glance at the crowd. Zheng and their partner Olu have stopped to watch the show and it makes Ed’s dick twitch with delight. The plug jingles inside of him like a bell with each strike. He wishes he had his favorite cat bell collar on to match its rhythm.
Stede coos affirmations of how good Ed is being while absolutely going to town on his ass cheeks and down his thighs. The first thigh smack catches Ed so off guard that he actually screams. It’s not an uncommon sound in a dungeon, but it raises a few eyebrows and brings a few more onlookers to the show.
“Is that okay, Darling? Color?” Stede asks after the thigh strike. Ed can feel the skin there raised as Stede trails his fingertips, light as a feather, over the reddened, tender skin.
Ed grips the leather table and nods enthusiastically. “Yes, Sir. Green. Very green, Sir. Six, Sir,” Ed says in a rush.
“You’re such a beautiful pain slut, aren’t you?” he says, pinching Ed’s inner thigh.
Ed gasps, his nails clawing at the sides of the table. The endorphins going to his brain from all the pain are making him nearly high – it’s either that or all the blood leaving his head to go to his ass and cock.
Stede grasps his hands on either side of Ed’s hips, gripping the flesh there tightly, and simply shakes, the plug moving inside of him like a cock shallowly moving back and forth, just barely tapping at his prostate.
Ed arches his back and slaps the table beside him. “Fuck!” he shouts, trying to catch his breath. His cock is leaking inside his lace panties. Stede laughs. He gives Ed four more quick strikes to the back of his thighs, Ed shouting out the number as they go. Stede stands up straight and turns to the crowd, leaving a heavy, anchoring hand on the small of Ed’s back. His skin feels hot and tingly, and his nerve endings short-circuit along his entire backside.
Stede talks to the crowd about proper spanking placement while teasingly tracing his fingertips along the raised skin on Ed’s ass. “The underside of the bottom’s, well,
bottom
,” Stede says, chuckling to himself, “is ideal for spanking, but you always want to avoid the lower back area because you could do damage to their kidneys,” he says, trailing his hands up to the sides of Ed’s lower back, drawing shapes into Ed’s skin where his kidneys reside. “Slapping skin on skin is very fun, but it can hurt your hand!” he says to the crowd. “Leather gloves can only help so much. Sometimes bringing out the big guns is necessary to keep your hands in working order for the rest of the night,” Stede says, picking up a flogger. “Be careful with floggers that will wrap around the body, the ends could snap into parts of the flesh you don’t intend for them to,” he says, draping it over Ed’s ass so the cool falls lay against his hot skin.
“You want to place yourself a good distance apart from your bottom, and make sure you have ample room behind you so you aren’t striking an onlooker or passerby,” Stede says, taking the flogger with him as he steps back. “If you’re new to flogging, practice on a pillow. A play partner’s ass shouldn’t be the first thing you ever strike with any implement.”
The flogger swings through the air and slaps against Ed’s ass. The falls are thick leather and they don’t sting as much as Stede’s hand did, they feel more thuddy against Ed’s skin. Stede switches between thwacks against the meat of Ed's ass and gentle swipes with the end of the falls that just tickle Ed’s skin. The back and forth between pain and tickling makes Ed feel like he’s unraveling. Not to mention the ball of the plug shaking back and forth,
tap tap tapping
against his prostate. He’s painfully hard. There’s a loose thread on his composure, just barely holding him together, and Stede keeps tugging on it, each strike drawing Ed closer to coming undone.
Stede demonstrates proper form and execution of flogger swinging before moving on to a paddle. He picks up a leather-padded paddle and rubs it against Ed’s ass. His skin has almost gone numb with how much it’s been overstimulated. Ed wonders how much he’ll bruise and how long they’ll last. He hopes to enjoy this night's visual benefits for weeks.
“Color, Pet?” Stede checks in.
“Green, Sir,” Ed responds, exhaling shakily. “But I, uhm, I,” Ed starts, stuttering as he tries to put words to what he means to say.
Stede puts the paddle down and rubs Ed’s back as he bends his body over the table so they’re face to face. “Yes, Love?” he says once he can see Ed’s face. “Talk to me.”
Ed is panting when he looks up into Stede’s beautiful hazel eyes, etched with a tinge of worry, but overwhelmingly caring. “I feel close to coming, Sir. With the plug, I’m,” Ed stammers, “I’m so close. I didn’t want to come unless you wanted me to, Sir.”
Stede smiles brightly, beaming down at Ed. “Good boy,” he says tenderly. He cups Ed’s face and drags his thumb down the side of Ed’s cheek. “I want you to come for me, Darling. Now get on your knees,” he demands.
Ed’s legs are wobbly and shaky from being pressed over the table and spread open for so long. He almost collapses to the floor, but Stede takes him by the elbows and eases him down to his knees. Stede turns his back to the table and leans against it. “On my leg, BB,” he says, pointing to his tailored pant leg, baby blue, and shiny brown leather shoes. “I want to use this flogger on your back while you get off on my leg. Like a good puppy. Will you do that for me, Darling?”
Ed's eyes glaze over with fondness and he nods in a daze. He paws his way over to Stede’s leg and situates himself over his left shoe. His cock is hard and leaking, and the light stimulation against Stede’s ankle through his lace panties sends a shock wave through him. Stede tilts his foot up so the toe of his shoe taps against the plug and Ed groans loudly, leaning his forehead into Stede’s hip and clutching the fabric of his pants.
“Such a good boy,” Stede coos as he pets Ed’s head. He picks up a different flogger with his other hand, the falls of which alternate between red leather and black fur straps. He shows it to the crowd. “A bit of pain and pleasure with this one,” he says, dragging it slowly across Ed’s shoulders, making him shiver. He pulls Ed’s hair to the side and wraps it around his fist, tugging it gently to situate Ed better over his ankle. “Is this good for you, Pet?” Stede asks, low enough for the message to be just between the two of them.
Ed presses his cock against Stede’s leg, pulsing his hips into a humping motion. He doesn’t know if it will be enough to get him off, but he’s damn well going to try. “Very good, Sir,” he says, looking up at Stede with eyes glittering with desire. “May I touch you, Sir?”
Stede hums in thought for a moment. “You may touch my leg and nothing more. Is that clear, Pet?”
Ed nods emphatically, “Yes, Sir.” His hands travel up and down Stede’s leg, just brushing his groin area on his upward strokes before retreating down to wrap around his strong thigh and calf. He hopes to fuck that he gets to see these legs out of pants one day because they feel ridiculous – like there’s no way they could look as good as they feel – but he thinks they’d
taste
even better.
Stede brings the flogger down on Ed’s shoulders, and there’s a spark of pain from the leather straps, just thin enough to sting, and a tingle of tickle from the straps of fur that Stede drags over the area. It’s unlike anything Ed has ever felt, and it pulls on his strings of composure, untying the knots inside of him, closer to coming undone.
Stede is speaking to the crowd, but Ed can only hear something like the ocean, the blood pumping in his veins a roar in his ears, pulsing in waves, crashing against the shore. He pumps his cock against the soft fabric of Stede’s leg. So, so soft. And with the next strike, Ed feels close to the precipice, about to fall off the edge.
“Sir,” he pants, gazing up at Stede through his lashes. His hips stutter in their movement. “Can I, Sir?”
Tangling a hand in Ed’s hair, Stede gazes down fondly. “You may, Darling. Come for me,” The Gentleman Sadist says, and turns his foot upward to toe against the plug, jostling it and wiggling his foot, causing the plug to press and vibrate against Ed’s prostate. The movement sends Ed over the edge, his self-control unraveling like a frayed, old sweater. Stede thumps the flogger against Ed’s back as he twitches through his orgasm, coming into his lace panties and onto Stede’s pant leg. For a moment, he worries about the fabric, but the thought drifts away with his last few brain cells as he wraps his arms around Stede’s leg for dear life and huffs. The air is cool around them, yet he struggles to get enough into his lungs as he presses his face into Stede’s firm thigh.
Stede sets the flogger down and combs both hands into Ed’s hair, massaging his scalp and petting him into calmness.
“I think our little pain slut needs some aftercare, so I’ll end the scene here. Thank you all for coming out tonight, I hope for this to be the first of many demonstrations,” Stede says to the crowd over Ed’s head, never stopping his gentle pets and caresses. There’s a soft round of applause behind them that makes Ed giggle, fuck-drunk, and high on the feeling of being seen, used, and taken care of all at once.
“Can you stand, Darling? Or do you need me to hold you?” Stede asks.
A fantasy of Stede bridal-carrying Ed into the aftercare suite makes Ed smile but he waves it off. “I can stand, Sir,” he says, blinking up at The Gentleman. Stede helps him to his feet with a palm under each of Ed’s elbows and he glimpses a small wet spot on Stede’s pant leg. So his panties caught the worst of it, Ed thinks, that’s good.
“Let’s get you cleaned up in the bathroom, then I have a big soft blanket with your name on it,” Stede says, voice soft and careful.
He directs Ed to a private restroom, grabs a fancy leather bag on the way, and sets him down on a chair at one side of the small space, across from the toilet. Ed isn’t sure if it's there for kink purposes but he tries not to think about it. His head is swimming, and he tries to focus on Stede, kneeling before him. “I’m going to take your panties off, okay?” he asks.
Ed can only nod, lifting his ass off the chair for Stede to draw the fabric over his hips and down his legs. He tosses them in the sink. The bathroom is stocked full of wet wipes, paper towels, and cleaning supplies. Stede takes a wipe and, lifting Ed’s skirt to his waist, wipes him down, gently petting the area clean.
Leaning back, spreading his legs wide, Ed angles his hips forward and drops his head back to the wall behind him, giving Stede access to the butt plug. Stede’s fingertips wrap around the base of the plug and then pauses. Ed lets out a deep breath, nodding, and Stede eases the bulb out, the little ball jumping merrily as he does. Stede wipes any remaining lube residue off Ed and the toy, wraps it in a paper towel and then pockets the little plug.
Once thoroughly cleaned, Stede takes a fuchsia silk handkerchief out of his back pocket and runs it over Ed’s sensitive skin. Ed wonders what the color means in hanky code, having never tried to remember what every color means and opting to just ask each time he sees one instead.
Stede glances up and catches Ed staring down at him and the bit of silk. Ed raises a brow in a silent question. Stede smirks. “Spanking,” he offers and it makes Ed chuckle.
“Of course,” Ed says, but his voice comes out a rough whisper.
Stede pulls Ed’s skirt down to cover him back up and pats his knee. “One sec,” he says, turning to the sink to rinse Ed’s panties clean. Ed wants to tell him not to bother, to just toss them, but then he thinks he might want the memory attached to that little scrap of fabric, a memento of his night with The Gentleman Sadist. Stede gently squeezes them as dry as he can and then wraps them in a paper towel, tucking them into his pocket alongside the plug.
Ed chuckles to himself.
Fair enough
, he thinks,
maybe Stede wants a memento too.
Wrapping hands underneath Ed’s armpits, Stede draws Ed to his feet, picks up his satchel, and guides him to the aftercare suite. It’s a cozy room of big, squishy couches, warm blankets, soft pillows, and even an array of stuffed animals for folks into age play.
Stede opens the leather bag once he has Ed situated on a couch, pulling out a fluffy, knit blanket, scarlet in color, to drape over Ed’s shoulders. He takes a bottle of water out next and opens it, handing it to Ed before sitting down next to him and wrapping an arm around his back, pulling him close against his side. “Drink,” he insists, casually pulling Ed’s legs up over his lap and tightly securing the blanket around Ed’s body.
Ed obeys, drinking most of the bottle in one go. He hands it back to Stede sheepishly, and Stede finishes the bottle off before setting it aside. Ed snuggles into Stede’s shoulder, playing with the fabric of the knit blanket against Stede’s pristine white button-down. “Did you knit this?” he whispers into Stede’s neck.
Stede chuckles, petting his hand over the soft wool and drawing a corner up to Ed’s face. He pets the fiber over his cheek. “I did. It’s soft, isn’t it? Knit from a rather exquisite cashmere.”
Ed almost purrs in response, he feels so good.
“It looks good on you,” Stede murmurs.
Ed shifts his head so that he can look up at Stede, and their faces are inches away, limbs all wrapped around one another. “I hope this isn’t too forward, but … may I kiss you?” Ed asks, and they both smile at the dichotomy of a first kiss being
after
the kind of scene they just experienced.
Stede licks his lips and lets his eyes fall to Ed’s mouth, lips plump and parted in anticipation. He pulls Ed closer into his body, nods slightly, and captures his mouth without another word, soft and tentative at first, then letting his tongue explore gently, gentlemanly, drawing Ed’s bottom lip into his mouth to suck on for a nip before drawing back.
Ed blinks lazily, still in a subspace fog, focusing back on Stede’s face and making a pleased sound like he just tasted something delicious. Stede’s thumb traces lines down Ed’s face and across his cheek, lips, and chin.
“I had a lot of fun tonight,” Stede whispers.
“Me too,” Ed says, resting his head back into the crook of Stede’s neck. “Could do it again, if you’d like,” he offers, shrugging his shoulders slightly. Cool as a cucumber, not desperate at all, no big deal either way. Inwardly, Ed is screaming.
“I’d like that,” Stede responds. He rocks Ed in his arms, lulling him almost to sleep. When Ed yawns, physically and mentally exhausted from their scene, Stede pats him on the knee. “Can I take you home?” he asks.
“My place or yours?” Ed flirts.
Stede laughs. “I meant back to yours because you’re about to pass out, but thank you for the option. I think I would like to tuck you into your bed tonight. I’ll tuck you into my bed next time,” he says with a wink, flirting back just as strongly.
Ed’s stomach does happy little flips, trying to take flight into his chest.
Once ready, they leave the aftercare suit, hand in hand, and Ed watches as Stede packs all of his gear into a crate and multiple bags. Together, they walk out to the parking lot where Stede carefully loads Ed into his car alongside the rest of his gear, as if he's also one of his fancy little props.
Like the gentleman he is, he brings Ed home, walks with him up to his bedroom, helps him out of his clothes, and tucks him into his bed. He pushes a wisp of hair away from Ed’s eyes before bending over the side of the bed and pressing his lips to Ed’s forehead in a quaint, quick goodnight kiss.
Ed grumbles, pulling Stede by his collar down to his lips. “Not good enough,” he whispers and can feel Stede’s smile on his lips as he gives him a proper goodnight kiss.
“Good night, Darling. Sleep well,” Stede whispers, then is off into the darkness, as Ed drifts into a blissful, deep sleep.
🧶 🧶 🧶
Ed takes a cautious step into the yarn shop, bustling with customers for its grand opening party. Half his staff are already there, partaking in cupcakes and Dixie cups of champagne. He spots Stede at the edge of the gathering, speaking to Oluwande, of all people. Olu has an orange and cream colored, intricately patterned knit cap on and though Ed has seen the hat before, he’s only just figuring out he probably knit it himself. Olu is holding an armful of yarn and sees Ed before Stede does. He grins at him, nodding in greeting, then says something quietly to Stede, stepping away. Stede glances over to Ed and beams brightly at him.
“So glad you made it,” he says, turning to Ed. He’s wearing a soft-looking cable jumper in a goldenrod yellow. Ed’s fingers itch to caress the little divots, ridges, and bumps that make up the cable pattern.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Ed says, stepping forward, the movement jostling the small bell at his collar, dinging melodically, just loud enough to hear over the store’s music. Stede’s eyes draw down to Ed’s neck, focusing on the small braided leather piece, clasped together with a bronze clip. To vanilla onlookers, it might look like a necklace with a shiny metal pendant, but Stede knows what it is. The collar presses against the column of Ed’s neck, and the bell rests quietly in the hollow of his throat.
“I like your… necklace,” Stede says, taking another step forward so they’re toe-to-toe, not taking his eye off the bell.
“Oh, this old thing? Good. I wore it for you,” Ed responds, lifting his chin and moving slightly to jingle the bell.
Stede makes a kind of strangled noise from deep in his throat, and he clears it to speak. He lifts a finger under the bell and lets it drop back down to Ed’s skin with a musical tinkle. He smiles at Ed, bright eyes alight with desire. “With bells on, indeed,” he says, voice husky and pitched low. “I’m going to make such beautiful music with you, Edward.”
Ed’s knees almost give out from under him. He can’t wait to be unraveled yet again.