Gay for Pay
A Total-E-Bound Publication
www.total-e-bound.com
Gay for Pay
ISBN # 978-1-907280-40-5
©Copyright Kim Dare 2009
Cover Art by Lyn Taylor ©Copyright November 2009
Edited by Christine Riley
Total-E-Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2009 by Total-E-Bound Publishing 1 The Corner, Faldingworth Road, Spridlington, Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, LN8 2DE, UK.
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated
Total-e-burning.
G-A-Y
GAY FOR PAY
Kim Dare
To everyone who has made it out of the closet. And to those who are still working on it.
GAY FOR PAY
Kim Dare
5
Ben Smith scanned the crowd for a third time. Every light had been turned towards the stage at the far end of the club, leaving the audience in shadows. He nudged his way through the press of leather clad bodies, trying to pick out one face from the dozens surrounding him, to spot one head of blond hair in the gloomy light.
Smith looked down as he kicked against something. A submissive knelt ignored in the middle of the crowd, while the dominant holding his lead watched the action on the stage.
Smith sighed and stepped around the submissive, pushing aside his desire to slap the so-called dominant around the back of the head and remind him to take better care of his property.
Right then, he had more important things to worry about than the fact there didn’t seem to be one good dominant in the building. Things like bringing his boss’s brat of a son to heel before he caused a scandal that would send his father into palpitations.
Smith muttered a curse. He was going to kill him. It was the only solution. He’d throttle Lockwood junior and be done with it—but not before he tracked down whatever idiot first suggested he go into the private security business when he left the police force, and throttled him too.
Nate Lockwood wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Smith bit out another curse. So much for reliable information. So much for ‘I saw him go into the club with my own eyes’. Smith added another name to the long list of people he’d like to grab hold of by the neck.
It was a relief to know Nate wasn’t part of the screwed up version of dominance that seemed to thrive in the club, but a larger part of Smith howled its protest at not knowing where the younger man was, at not knowing he was safe.
A microphone buzzed back into life as another submissive was shoved up onto the stage to take his place on the auction block.
“Oh, isn’t that sweet! He’s shy,” the auctioneer crowed.
GAY FOR PAY
Kim Dare
6
Smith glanced at the stage. The submissive was wearing a half-mask. It didn’t extend far enough down his cheeks to stop his blush being visible, but it was still by far the largest article of clothing he wore.
A tiny leather posing pouch just about covered his cock. A collar marked him out as one of the submissives being auctioned off that night. Cuffs wrapped around his wrists and held his hands behind his back. But everywhere else was just bare skin.
“Let’s see what we’ve got.” The auctioneer consulted his notes and let out of harsh laugh. “This one is something special, gentlemen.”
Smith only half heard him. The mask was topped with a head of impossibly golden hair. The body on display beneath it was young and lean and horribly familiar—not with reality, but with what he’d always imagined Nate Lockwood might look like if he was wearing a few strips of leather rather than a suit that cost more than Smith made in a year.
No. Even Lockwood’s son and heir couldn’t be that big a fool. The only reason a man like Nate could end up on that block was as part of a hissy fit over some stupid argument with his father, and even he had to be smarter than that.
The auctioneer put a hand on the submissive’s shoulder. Smith’s hand clenched into a fist and the last of his doubts over Nate’s identity evaporated. There was only one man in the world who could raise that mixture of possessiveness and frustration inside him.
“It says blondie here is straight,” the auctioneer announced. “He’s gay for pay, gentlemen. And apparently desperate enough for the cash that he’ll set no limits on what you can do with him for the next twenty-four hours.”
Smith took a deep breath and somehow resisted the temptation to yell out that the stupid little idiot
didn’t
need the money. Nate was making a mockery of everything Smith held dear for no better reason than a bloody temper tantrum.
“Turn around, darling, let the nice gentlemen see what they’ll get for their money.”
Nate made a slow revolution on the stage. A chorus of cat calls went up. Smith’s frown deepened as he momentarily turned his attention back to the audience. All the gear, no idea. He’d bet his last penny he was the only true leather master in the club.
“And how much will one of you pay for the privilege of trying to change Mr. ‘I’ll-only-ever-be-gay-for-pay’s mind?” the auctioneer asked, giving Nate a slap on the backside.
GAY FOR PAY
Kim Dare
7
The dominants in that club that night might have been half-arsed idiots, but they were rich idiots. The price hit five figures and kept going. Smith stood still and silent in the middle of the crowd, letting the bidding go on until most of the players fell by the wayside.
“Going once?”
Smith raised his hand and the bid.
Ten bids and twenty-five thousand pounds later, he was the proud owner of one gay for pay pillock. As Nate was pulled down off the stage, Smith pushed his way through the crowd, shoving pathetic excuses for dominants aside while keeping one eye out for submissives who might have been left where they could be tripped over.
Tossing his corporate credit card on the desk leading into the back room, Smith scrawled his signature and snatched the key to Nate’s restraints off the table.
“His clothes?” he asked.
The guy behind the table smirked. “It seems we’ve misplaced them—so sorry.”
Smith turned away without a word.
Calm, he reminded himself. He had a job to do. That job was to retrieve Nate and take him home. Nothing more, nothing less. It wasn’t his business to sort the club out and turn it into somewhere a good master wouldn’t be ashamed to be seen.
Just like it wasn’t his place to explain to Nate exactly what would have happened if one of the guys playing at being dominant had bought him. Nor was it his place to tell him he needed to grow up and stop acting like a spoilt brat.
Someone had parked Nate by a wooden pillar in the middle of the room. A length of chain ran from the post to his collar. He looked glorious. Even the surroundings, the situation and that stupid mask couldn’t change that. And he was all his for the next twenty-four hours.
Smith’s step faltered. No. Nate wasn’t his. He couldn’t forget that. Professional. The fact he was half hard, and seeing Nate in bondage was making him harder by the moment, wasn’t important. The knowledge that he’d wanted Nate to belong to him since the first moment he set eyes on him wasn’t relevant.
Professional.
Nate looked across at him. Through the holes in the mask, Smith saw the fear and the uncertainty in his eyes. Sudden sympathy surged inside him, pushing aside lust until he GAY FOR PAY
Kim Dare
8
wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around the smaller man and tell him he was safe. Yes, he was a fool, but—
“Smith!”
Smith held back a sign. Professional. There would be no sex. There would be no possession. There would be no sympathy and there sure as hell wouldn’t be any hugging.
“What are you doing here?” Nate blurted out.
Smith yanked his collar to one side and undid the padlock. Quickly freeing Nate from his restraints, he tossed them aside.
“Smith—” Nate tried again.
“I have no interest in anything you have to say,” Smith snapped. “Come on.” He marched Nate back through the crowds, ignoring all the suggestions for how he should spend the next twenty-four hours. They stepped out of the club, straight into the underground car park. Nate shivered as his bare feet met cold concrete and the damp night air closed around him.
Smith led him across to his car, trying not to feel guilty for not taking his coat into the club with him. He wasn’t bloody well psychic. He couldn’t have known Nate would have been for sale rather than one of the jackass’ bidding. But right then, that didn’t matter. Nate was the submissive. He was the dominant. There weren’t any excuses for failing to take care of him.
He undid the central locking and jerked open the boot. “Get in.”
“What?”
“You might be in the business of dragging your family name through the gutter, I’m not. I’m not driving you through the city wearing a scrap of leather and bugger all else. The way my luck’s going, we’ll end up driving past the whole press corps before we’ve gone a block. Get in.”
Nate looked from him to the boot and back again.
No sympathy, Smith reminded himself. A short, sharp shock—something just harsh enough to make sure he would think twice about what could happen if he pulled this sort of stupid stunt again—it would do him more good than sympathy in the long run. “Do you want me to pick you up and put you in there?”
Nate dropped his gaze and got clumsily into the boot.
GAY FOR PAY
Kim Dare
9
Smith looked away, wishing that, in spite of everything, he didn’t still want to admire Nate’s body as he folded himself into the small space. Slamming the boot harder than he intended, he rolled his eyes at himself. One brat in the car was more than enough.
It might be Nate’s fault he’d had to drive across the country to track him down, but it wasn’t actually his fault he had a crush on his boss’s son. It wasn’t Nate’s fault that a grand total of fifteen different false alarms had gone off through the previous night three nights—
all courtesy of their new state of the art computerised contraption. It wasn’t Nate’s fault he hadn’t slept more than an a few hours in as many days.
Smith rubbed at his eyes. Adrenaline could only last so long. Now that Nate was safe, he already felt it draining away. He switched on the hands-free phone and called in his report, along with his intention to sleep before he drove them back in the morning.