True North (Compass series Book 4) (6 page)

It’s hard to explain the depth of gratitude I feel toward him, this man I barely know. India had said it, but I hadn’t quite believed her. Now there’s someone else adding to the chorus, telling me that, yes, this is a thing, you’re not alone, and I’m here to help. The relief is palpable. It still feels like a dream, though, so I verbally pinch myself.

“You’re serious?”

“I am. I could even show you if you like.”

“Show me?” My voice is a croak, which is better than the other option of it cracking like a thirteen-year-old boy’s.

“Yes. Matthew’s got a bit of a humiliation kink himself, don’t you, Matthew?”

“Yes, sir.”

“But—”

Rey waves a careless hand. “It’s possible, given your behavior toward your colleagues, that I’d suspected this might be a thing for you. Hoped it might be, actually, because that’s something I can help you with.”

Maybe that queasy feeling could go away. Some of the shame and the feeling like a monster. Yes, I’d like that very much.

“So would you like a little demonstration?”

“Now?”

“If you think you’re ready.”

“God, yes.”

Rey’s mouth turns up at the corner. Score one for Rey Walter.

Since I walked in the door, I’ve noticed he’s been more affectionate with Matthew than last time. It’s small things, like touching Matthew’s arm as he makes a request or more emphatic thanks when he’s done us a service. Subtle, but noticeable. I’m wondering if anticipating this kinky show-and-tell had something to do with that.

Rey puts his feet on the floor, leans down, and places a hand on the back of Matthew’s neck. The man turns his head slightly, the better to hear Rey I’m assuming.

“Are you ready, Matthew?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then kneel, please.”

Matthew assumes the position, his back to me, hands in his lap.

“We talked about the possibility of doing a humiliation scene for Slade’s edification, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you’re still amenable?”

Matthew shifts slightly, his butt grinding into his heels. “Yes, sir.”

A warm smile spreads across Rey’s face, a look that makes it clear how much he cares about Matthew—this man he’s about to humiliate, allegedly for Matthew’s pleasure. What other rules don’t apply anymore? Gravity is still a thing, right?

“Good. I promise to adhere to our standard limits on humiliation play, and this will be a relatively mild scene. You have your usual safewords, and if you’d like Slade to leave at any time, say the word and he will. Tell me you understand.”

“I understand, sir.”

“Then clear our glasses, please, and when you come back, do it on your knees.”

“Yes, sir.”

Rey strokes his thumb behind Matthew’s ear, then leans farther in and kisses or nips at his neck. From this angle, I can’t quite tell. Whichever it is, Matthew practically purrs and then rises to his feet, collects the glasses and pitcher of water, and removes them on a tray.

When he’s gone, Rey turns to me. “Ground rules. Your role here is to watch. You’re not to participate in any way. Humiliation is edge play for Matthew, and while he’s given his full consent to have you as a witness and he’ll be fine, you need to respect his boundaries. If he asks for you to leave at any point, you’ll do it with no questions and no hesitation. If you violate his trust or disrespect this gift he’s giving you, you can’t imagine the hurt I will rain down upon you. Are we clear?”

“Yes.”

His fierce protectiveness of Matthew at once scares the living crap out of me and endears Rey to me more. He’s right that I probably can’t imagine what he’d do to me if I harm his charge, but I recognize, respect, and like the care he takes of Matthew. That’s how I’d felt about Pressly, and it makes me feel as though these dual urges—to hurt and humiliate versus protect and look after—aren’t mutually exclusive. Perhaps there’s the tiniest possibility that I’m not so fucked up after all.

“Humiliation play isn’t always erotic, but for Matthew it is, so at the end of the scene, there will likely be some kind of sex. You’re welcome to stay or excuse yourself if it makes you uncomfortable. When we’re done, Matthew will require some aftercare. You can witness that as well or go into the kitchen or the living room or downstairs to the dungeon, wherever you feel most comfortable, and I’ll find you when we’re finished to debrief. Okay?”

I’m not sure about the sex, what with the whole dudes-not-being-my-bag thing, but I am curious about the aftercare. That I’d like to see, and watching another guy get fucked might be worth the price of admission. I can always change my mind. “Yes.”

Rey gestures to a leather loveseat kitty corner from where he’s sitting. “You’ll have a better view from there.”

I almost trip in my rush to the proffered seat. I don’t even have to think about it. I want to see how this is done, the expressions on Matthew’s face. As soon as I’ve planted myself on the small couch, Matthew makes his way into the room on hands and knees. He’s still clothed, his customary white linen shirt hanging down and his regulation khakis providing a negligible barrier between his knees and the hardwood floor.

Rey shifts, and it’s as though he becomes a different person. His angles seem harsher, his expression unyielding. Even to me, who he’s no longer paying a lick of attention to, he feels dangerous and forbidding. I can only imagine what this is doing to Matthew.

“At my feet, you useless piece of trash.”

I swallow hard. Rey has cut right to the chase.

Matthew does as he’s been bid, coming to a stop in front of Rey.

“Sit back on your heels and look at me.”

The kneeling man’s movements are graceful, and he looks picture-perfect as he comes into position.

“That was sloppy. Forehead and palms to the floor and do it again.”

Matthew’s skin is a light enough brown that I can see the flush gather in his cheeks. He turns a ruddy shade of pink that pings some pleasure center of my brain. Rey makes him repeat the motion half a dozen times. And to be honest, each instance looks identical to me beyond the quickening of Matthew’s breath.

“Do you really think that piss-poor performance is worthy of me? Your shoddy presentation is downright insulting, but I don’t have all day to spend on trying to improve you. It’d be time wasted anyhow since you can’t hold a damn thing in that pea-sized brain of yours. What do you keep in that empty head? Huh?”

Rey reaches out and cuffs him, Matthew cringing at even the light blow. My insides are knotted, and my thoughts are muddled. This is profoundly uncomfortable—I’m a much bigger fan of being the one to scold and degrade—but also such a fucking turn-on. And judging by the healthy bulge at the front of Matthew’s slacks and the way he’s practically drooling, I’m not the only one finding it so. Even though he seems distraught, on some level, he
likes
this. I love that he does.

“Did you even remember to sort the files I left on your desk?”

A wide-eyed look of panic on Matthew’s part says, no. No, he did not.

“No, sir. I—”

“Save your excuses, you pathetic excuse for an assistant. Some days I think I’d be better off without you altogether. What the fuck do I pay you for if you can’t even get the most basic of tasks completed? Get them. You’re going to sort them right now because apparently you can’t be trusted to do anything without my direct supervision.”

If I’m not mistaken—and I’m so flustered that I might be because
they’re doing this right in front of me and holy hell is it fucking incredible
—there seems to be a flash of anticipation, eagerness that flits over Matthew’s features. Like he was expecting this, looking forward to it, and now it’s being handed to him. “Yes, sir.”

“What are you waiting for, you indolent halfwit? Go.”

Matthew and I cringe in unison before he scurries out of the room on his hands and knees. As soon as he’s in the hall, Rey seems to realize I’m still here.

“You should know that Matthew is excellent at his job, and I’d be lost without him. I’ll tell him so repeatedly and emphatically when this is over. Those files are props I left on his desk for this demonstration. We have a strict understanding that if he’s actually disappointed me in some way, it is not fodder for humiliation scenes. I think the disgrace might literally kill him. That’s something especially important to negotiate with anyone you might play with. There’s a fine but very important line in humiliation play between getting someone hot and harming them. It’s one you should do your utmost not to cross. That kind of breach of trust is difficult to recover from.”

I nod, storing that little tidbit away in my brain in a file labeled
essential
, repeating it to myself until Matthew arrives on the threshold with a stack of manila folders between his teeth. Once again, Rey’s manner changes from patient instructor to merciless hardass.

“Why on god’s green earth did that take you so long, you apathetic loafer? Christ.”

“I’m so sorry, sir, I—”

“I don’t want your ham-fisted apologies. I want you to do your fucking job. So do it. No hands.”

Matthew’s eyes grow wider and his face gets redder, and then he breathes out in a way that could be pained or so turned on he’s having trouble processing it. “Yes, sir.”

And then we watch while Matthew uses his teeth and his nose to grip and nudge the files around into some kind of order. Throughout, Rey tells him he’s slovenly and inept. I can see Matthew’s eyes glisten with tears, but he’s also still sporting a pretty serious hard-on.

When he’s done to Rey’s reluctant satisfaction, Rey orders him to kneel before him.

“Go on and jerk yourself, you lazy fuck. If you can’t be bothered to do your job, I can’t be bothered to get you off.”

Matthew’s chest caves in as he sinks teeth into his bottom lip and groans. He reaches for the top button of his pants, but Rey tsks at him and shakes his head.

“You want to put in a half-assed performance, you’re going to get a half-assed orgasm. You’re going to rub this one out through your pants, and when you come, you’re going to feel the hot, sticky mess you made. It’s going to cool on your skin while you suck me off and remind you of what a goddamn disappointment you are. Get to it before I change my mind about letting you get off at all.”

Matthew doesn’t hesitate but cups his hand around his dick and lets out a low moan as he rubs.

“You’re not going to get off like that and you know it. Go ahead, you nasty boy, fuck your hand like you really want to.”

This time the noise that escapes Matthew is more of a high-pitched, desperate whine than a moan, but if I were to guess, he sounds like he’s not all that far off. I prove to be right because in a couple of minutes, he’s pitching forward, an arm wrapped around his mid-section while he squeezes the bulge in his pants and cries out.

Holy motherfucking hell. I wouldn’t say that I’m about to switch teams or anything, but I can’t deny that my own pants aren’t getting tight in the crotch. It’s not Matthew per se, though he’s not a bad-looking guy. It’s that this entire scenario is hot as fuck and he thinks so too. That sounded like a phenomenal orgasm to me, whatever Rey said about it being half-assed.

As soon as Matthew seems the least bit recovered, he crawls toward Rey and holds up his hands. “Please, sir.”

“Go ahead and see if you can do one thing right today.”

Matthew eagerly dives toward Rey’s lap, making quick work of the button and the zipper. I only catch the slightest glimpse of Rey’s dick before Matthew’s taking it enthusiastically into his mouth and going to work.

Rey’s head drops back, and he sighs. “You may be completely inept otherwise, but goddamn are you an outstanding cocksucker.”

I can hear Matthew’s squeak, choked out around the dick stuffed in his mouth. I think I might want to leave because it’s weird watching this, but I can’t look away. It’s too goddamn good. I want to watch their pleasure, I want to watch them enjoy this. See that it is, as Rey and India promised, a thing. A thing I could have. I scrub a fist over my own erection, willing it to go down, but it, like the rest of me, is too damn excited.

When Rey finally comes, it’s with a hand gripping the back of Matthew’s head and the other clenched in a fist on the leather of the couch. He doesn’t make much noise; only a brief panting and a squeezing shut of his eyes gives away that he just blew his load.

Matthew doesn’t stop laving him until he’s told to, but when Rey commands him, he leans back and sits on his heels. After arranging himself, Rey leans forward and takes Matthew’s face in his hands, resting his forehead against Matthew’s while he talks to him in soft words I can’t quite make out. Matthew’s hands come up to grasp Rey’s wrists, and he nods, his scarlet flush of embarrassment fading into a ruddy afterglow.

They murmur to each other for another few minutes, Rey stroking his thumbs behind Matthew’s ears and kissing him softly, affectionately. It’s sweet, if I’m allowed to say that. After what I just watched, it seems somehow incongruous but also perfectly normal. Comfortable. Right. It’s odd and exhilarating, and I’m a little sorry when Rey pushes back from Matthew and dismisses him.

After he’s left, Rey turns to me. “Matthew will be back in a few minutes. He’s going to shower and change his clothes. And you and I are going to have a little chat.”

Of course we are. But it turns out to not be as awkward as I fear. Rey explains to me why he said the things he did, how he learned those things about Matthew in the first place, how to watch your partner for signs of how they’re feeling and how to check in, especially when you’re new to playing in general or with them in particular.

I try to store it all away, but there’s so much to keep track of that I know I’ll forget some of it. I’m guessing though that Rey will remind me. Matthew comes back while we’re still dissecting the scene. He doesn’t say anything, but sits on the floor by Rey’s feet and leans his head against Rey’s lean thigh and closes his eyes. When he does, Rey strokes his hair, his neck while he continues to talk to me. Matthew looks relaxed, replete…happy. I can’t take my eyes off him.

Apparently I missed a conversational cue because Rey clears his throat. “Slade?”