The Bet

Allan rose from his seat and grabbed my hand, pulling me out of the booth behind him. The lights and noise of the club swirled around me, threatening to become overwhelming; I focused on his grip and tried to block the rest out. Allan stopped and looked around, deciding where we should go.

"There, that's perfect," he said. I tried to look, but being several inches shorter, I couldn't tell what he was looking at. I think maybe he did it on purpose to keep me in suspense a few moments longer. He tugged me through the crowd until we arrived in front of a Saint Andrew's Cross. He pointed to the floor just next to it.

"Kneel there. I have to get things ready."

I knelt awkwardly in the indicated spot, feeling strange. I hadn't really been asked to kneel by any of my previous partners. I didn't mind it, but some part of me said that I should mind. I ignored it, reminding myself that I had agreed to this. People were passing by and glancing over at Allan and myself, but pretty much moved on when they saw nothing was happening yet. I breathed deeply and placed my hands on my thighs, trying to stop them shaking. Allan didn't scare me exactly, but I was certainly nervous.

He promised to let me keep my clothes on, I reminded myself. And if things got too intense, I could always safeword out. I didn't like the idea of doing that, though. It would mean welching on my bet with Allan, for one thing - being pushed to safeword out wasn't my idea of being properly dominated, but it didn't prove he couldn't dominate me without undressing me. Stalemate, nobody wins.

I looked over at Allan to see what he was up to. He met my gaze with the sly, wicked grin I was starting to associate with him - and with trouble.

"I'm all set. Come on up."

I walked over and stepped up to the cross, facing it and raising my arms to the restraints. But Allan shook his head. "No, no. Not like that. Turn around." I followed his instructions. As he strapped me in, interested club patrons stopped to watch. I closed my eyes and tried to block them out, feeling slightly humiliated and very exposed, despite all the clothing between my skin and their gazes.

Finished with the restraints, Allan stroked my cheek. I relaxed into his touch.

"Look at them, Ray." He said softly. "They see what I see now. You're so sexy they can't help but look."

I focused my gaze on him instead, and saw the fire in his eyes. In the reflection of his eyes, I could finally see myself the way he described. Instead of feeling unwanted, I felt desired. My spirit felt light in a way that I hadn't felt in a long time. I knew I could handle anything he wanted to do to me, just to keep feeling that desire.

Allan smiled, as if he knew what I was thinking. Maybe it showed on my face. "That works too." He laced his fingers into my hair and pulled, harder this time than the last. "But from now on, you do what I say." He waited a moment, then jerked downward. "Understood?"

I winced, the pain and movement momentarily overtaking my body's ability to process it as pleasure. "Yes, sir. I will, sir." As I spoke, Allan lessened his grip on my hair to a pleasurable tug, then released my head.

"Good. Don't move."

I thought that command was a bit redundant, due to my position. I was strapped into the Saint Andrew's Cross, spread-eagled. I was small enough compared to the size of the cross that the position put a bit of tension on the muscles in my shoulders and groin. I definitely wasn't going anywhere.

Allan turned and addressed the growing crowd of mildly interested onlookers. "I know it's not common practice to tie subs up while fully dressed. This handsome young man has issued me a chAllange and I intend to deliver." This raised some quiet mutters from the crowd, and others stopped when they heard his words. I started to worry again; did they know something about Allan that I didn't? "This boy thinks I can't successfully scene with him without undressing him. We have defined "success" in this venture to mean that I can make him beg. If I am successful in doing so, I win the pleasure of his company for the night. You are all witnesses to our wager." More onlookers stopped with these last two lines. There was definitely something else happening here that I wasn't aware of - why did they care so much about a little bar bet, especially when the very terms of the bet meant they wouldn't see anything juicy?

Finished with his little piece of oration, Allan turned away from them, leaned down and kissed me, hard enough to knock the breath out of me. His tongue forced its way insistently into my mouth, taking possession. Pressed hard into the cross behind me by his weight, the last possibilities of movement were taken from me. I didn't think I could feel any more restrained than I did by the cross, until he leaned into me. And yet, I was able to relax my entire being, body and soul, in a way that I had never before experienced as an adult.

Allan broke off the kiss to start nibbling on my earlobe. He ground his hips into me; his bulge pressed into my leg, noticeably hot despite our mutual layers of clothing. Perhaps it was just my imagination. I yelped as he bit down hard enough to hurt, which changed to a low moan as he dragged his teeth along the edge of my ear.

"I take it you like that," Allan chuckled.

My breath was coming in short, shallow gasps. "Yes, sir," I managed.

He shifted back slightly and dragged a single fingernail from my hairline down the side of my neck, stopping and lifting up when he reached the collar of my gray T-shirt. He leaned in toward me again. His breath was hot on my ear as he spoke.

"The things I would do to you if I took you home..." His free hand roamed across my body, sparking on my skin even through the fabric of my clothing. I knew the audience couldn't hear what he was saying, but Allan seemed unconcerned about performing for them, focusing only on me. "First of all, we'd get you out of these clothes." He tugged on my shirt collar for emphasis.

"I want to see every inch of your skin, boy."

He fell silent for a while, both hands continued to roam across me, at times feather-light and other times grabbing, scratching, and pinching. The constant movement and varying degrees of his contact with me meant that I couldn't focus or recover before he had moved off to another place. Despite the lack of sexual contact or exertion on my part, I was panting hard. He kept it up as he started speaking again, pausing between each sentence to change tactics.

"Once I stripped you naked, I think I'd want you on your knees on my bed. I'd bind your wrists together and tie them over the headboard so you'd be stretched out. You wouldn't have a chance of escaping me. I'd spread your legs wide open, just like you are now." As he said this, he ran both hands down the inside of my thighs, starting just a few inches above my knees. Despite the fact that I still had my jeans on, I felt totally exposed. At the same time, though, I wished I wasn't wearing them so I could feel his hands on my skin. I wanted him to go higher as well, despite my fear of how he'd react once he touched me. Over his shoulder, I could see the crowd watching us. They'd fAllan mostly silent, as if they could hear Allan's words as well, but mostly I think they were watching my reactions.

My attention came back to Allan as he gripped the sides of my face. "Picture it, Ray. You, kneeling, open to me, hands restrained. Totally at my mercy, unable to do anything but take what I give you." His voice was low and commanding. "And then imagine...what could I give you?"

Even my thoughts obeyed him, apparently, as the images he described filled my minds' eye. For just a moment, I was able to imagine sexual encounters with him despite my physical issues. I shivered, while my stomach did backflips. I couldn't believe how turned on I was by just his words and his fingertips.

Allan went back to one of his (and my!) favorite tricks, grabbing my hair close to the skull and pulling my head back hard. He twisted it to the side, exposing my neck. With his other hand, he stretched open the collar of my t-shirt, then bit down hard on the edge of my throat just above my collarbone. My world went white and I stopped breathing for a moment. A bolt of electric pleasure ran straight from my neck to my groin. My hips thrust forward as if he was touching my crotch rather than my neck.

I moaned loudly. Allan released his bite, licking at the mark for a moment before raising his head to look into my face. He gave me a wolfish grin. "I can't wait to do that to your gorgeous tight ass." He grabbed and kneaded the body part in question. "And then I'll bury myself in there so deep you'll feel it for days." I moaned again.

"Yes, sir, please. Whatever you want to do. Please, please, more, sir..." My voice was breathy and hoarse. I hadn't actually meant to speak, but I couldn't help but to beg for more of him. Whatever he wanted, I wanted.

"Louder," Allan demanded.

I took a deep breath and ran my tongue around the inside of my mouth, trying to conjure up enough air and saliva to speak again.

"More, sir, please. I want more!"

Allan grabbed me by the throat again, not too hard this time but enough that I knew he was there. "More of what? What should I do to you?"

I met his gaze and tried to focus my thoughts, my head filled with images of him and me doing..."Whatever you want to do to me, sir." Even in my muddled state, it sounded to me like a cheesy answer, but it was the truth.

He released my jaw and I sagged in my bonds. Despite having done nothing but stand in front of these people, I felt exhausted.

Allan grabbed my head for another crushing kiss, then turned to face the crowd. He bowed with a flourish. They applauded enthusiastically. I was surprised for a moment, having forgotten everything in the heat of the scene. My anxiety returned full force as I realized this meant Allan had won our bet. I wanted to spend the night with him, but first I had explanations to make.