“The invite did say it was a leather party.”
“I approve, but the mask is a cruel thing to do to me on my birthday. What about his pretty face?”
“There is plenty more to admire than just his face.” I motion for Giovanni to turn so that Keller can have the full effect. “What do you say to Keller, Giovanni?”
“Happy Birthday, Keller,” Giovanni says with a demure dip of his head.
“Thanks, sweet boy. If you want to play with him later, Valentin, there are plenty of private rooms available.”
“I will keep that in mind.”
We take up residence in a secluded corner with vinyl couches and low tables near where the demonstrations are taking place. Johann and Rupert are there already. Roped off as VIP, my security stands at attention nearby. They function as both bodyguards and bouncers, preventing any unwanted guests from entering our radius. Even the waifish twink taking drink orders must go through them to get to me.
“Johann,” I say by way of greeting. I incline my head, and he nods to signal that I may also greet his sub. “Rupert.” The dog-like mask covers most of his face, so I scratch his head just behind his ears. Rupert barks in response and wags his tail. He’s in full gear, including kneepads and pup mitts so that he may traverse the area on all fours. Giovanni watches the exchange and bows slightly to Johann before kneeling dutifully beside me.
“How’s work?” I ask Johann and we chat about that for a spell. Simeon joins us a little while later, having made the rounds to network and mingle. He brings with him a giggly blond in a netted nylon top with a highly fuckable mouth.
“Blaine,” Simeon says, and that’s the extent of his introduction before the boy arranges himself between Simeon’s knees to suck him off.
Giovanni’s eyes dart between the public sex taking place at our side and the demonstrations happening nearby. There is a female sub, blindfolded in the stocks with an ankle spreader, being vaginally stimulated with a wand and a male sub on a bench being spanked with what looks like an electric fly swatter. Every time the implement makes contact, the sub jolts, likely due to some low-voltage shock. I haven’t done much electro kink myself, but I am always looking to expand my repertoire. Several Doms pass by with their subs, some more obvious than others. The theme for the night is well-represented in the plethora of assless chaps, leather vests, and harnesses. I hope Keller is pleased.
At our side, Simeon’s blond is finishing up, now stroking his own dick to get off. After they’ve both come, Simeon drags him up by his flimsy shirt for a kiss, then tucks some cash down his open pants, pats his ass, and tells him to go have fun.
Giovanni watches their interaction closely. I warned him ahead of time about what sort of acts he might witness, and I told him I’d be at his disposal when the party has concluded. I’ll answerallhis questions then.
“How was it?” I ask Simeon.
“Not bad.”
“You probably didn’t have to pay him. He seemed quite willing.”
Simeon shrugs. “Makes things less complicated. And that was just the tip. Money up front, you know?”
Simeon was similarly wounded by one of his romantic partners—a real estate agent who used him to further his own career—and has dealt with his pain by now only paying for sex and keeping his encounters mostly anonymous to prevent any real emotional attachment. I went through a similar phase, though my escorts had to be fully vetted by my security first. For my own safety and convenience, the trysts usually took place at my lounge in Chelsea in between meetings with other mobsters. Those liaisons didn’t have any of the sadomasochistic or control elements I favor, another reason to count my blessings for the boy at my side. I rest my hand atop his masked head for reassurance, his and mine.
Johann and Rupert leave to go dance and Anders joins our little group. I introduce him to Giovanni who bows his head respectfully.
“Pretty eyes,” Anders says. The mask does draw attention to them. “Pretty lips too.”
“And highly functional.”
“May I pleasure you, Sir?” Giovanni asks, turning to me with his mouth already gaping.
“No, you may not.”
Anders shakes his head. “I don’t know how you do it, Valentin.”
“What’s that?”
“Hold yourself back.”
“Patience is a virtue of both the Dominant and submissive,” I tell him mildly, though with Anders’ appetite, I doubt he practices much restraint. Not long after, two young men join him on the sofa where he’s seated, one on each side. Twins? Or perhaps brothers. Whether it’s a spontaneous liaison or something he planned hardly matters. Men of wealth attract such attentions, for better or for worse.
“We’re going to take this party to a private room,” Anders says while peeling one of the men off his neck like a leech. “Care to watch?”
“Another time,” I tell him. Giovanni huffs at my side, either because we won’t be watching or because everyone around us is engaging in sex. But not him. “Settle,” I command and place my hand atop his crown.
Keller comes by a few minutes later and asks how we’re doing, do we need anything? I tell him it’s a lovely party and we’re greatly enjoying the show. The cross, which was formerly unoccupied, now has a sub strapped to it. Their Dom is whipping their back and buttocks with a tawse, “That’s a painful implement,” I tell Giovanni, whose gaze is riveted. “My leather strop functions similarly.”
