Submission Times Two

Andrew Townsend stood in the shadows, watching. The man was tethered, spread-eagled to the cross, wearing nothing but a codpiece. Positioned as he was, he appeared naked save for the thin belt of black leather over his narrow hips. The globes of his ass were well-defined, solid muscle, the indentations below either hip just begging to be gripped while a thick, hard cock was eased inside him.

His smooth body was covered in a sheen of sweat and the tendons on his neck were taut. His head was turned to the side and from where Andrew stood, he could see the man's face. The uninitiated might have only seen the pain, missing the underlay of ecstasy.

With each precisely aimed flick of the single-tail lash, the man's body jerked, the thickly corded muscles rippling just beneath the skin. Even in the dim light, Andrew could see the man had Viking white-blond hair curling down the back of his neck and falling over his eyes, which Andrew knew were ice blue.

A crowd had gathered around the carefully choreographed scene, the spectators respectfully silent in the face of people who actually knew what they were doing. Most of the guys there were just players. Men who cruised the sex bars and the underground BDSM clubs looking for one thing. The temporary thrill of a sexual power exchange with someone they didn't give a damn about and probably would never see again.

But from the scene he was watching, it was clear to Andrew these two were no players. As the single-tail struck again and again, leaving its thin, angry lines of pink over pale flesh, Andrew saw the change begin. The tensely bunched muscles of the man's strong back began to ease. His fingers uncurled and his head fell back, lips parting. A look of utter peace slid over his slackening features as he entered that elusive place where pleasure and pain lost their separate meanings.

Andrew's gut gripped and he realized he was clenching his fists. He should have been the one standing there wielding the whip. He should have been the one to take this sub to the heights of erotic pleasure.

He wanted to push through the crowd and knock the Dom out of the way. He wanted to put his arms around the bound man and kiss those lips he'd dreamed of for all these years. Watching the unfolding scene was like dousing Andrew's pent-up desire with gasoline and setting a match to it. He was burning out of control, his cock pressing like a steel rod in his jeans, jealousy dripping like an acid corroding his heart.

The Dom dropped the whip and moved forward to release the sub from the cuffs that held him bound at ankle and wrist. The sub leaned into him and slowly opened his eyes, offering a beatific smile that wrenched Andrew's soul.

The sub dropped to his knees and kissed the Dom's shiny black combat boots. The Dom leaned down, touching the top of his head like a priest bestowing a benediction.

Pushing his way past other scenes and the accompanying crowds, Andrew headed for the door, suddenly desperate for the fresh night air.