The Brownstone: Scott

(Authors Note: This is the 11th installment in the Brownstone series. In reading order they are: Michael Ch01,02 Charles Ch01,02,03 Michael Ch03,04,05. Scott Ch01,02

Please bear with this chapter, it's not the strongest, but it's necessary to build the storyline for the chapters to follow.)

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Michael had tried calling Scott to let him know he had arrived earlier than scheduled but didn't get an answer. Figuring he was out for a run or in the shower he left a long elaborate message of everything he planned to do to him the minute he saw him. Within a minute of hanging up his phone rang, he pressed talk even without checking who was calling.

"Hey, you get my message?" He said in a deep sexy tone.

"Michael, it's Bud, where are you?" His voice was filled with panic.

"I just landed. I'm on the bridge on the way in town. What's up?"

"Scott's here at the brownstone, somehow he got into the opening festivities."

"Fuck!" was all Michael seemed to be able to say. Bud's panic wasn't anything near as the gut wrenching panic that suddenly ripped through Michael. "Go get Eric, then the two of you take him to my apartment, I'll be there as quickly as I can." Clicking off the phone Michael told the driver to get to the brownstone faster than he had ever gotten anyplace before in his life.

Michael didn't even want to think about what he was about to face. When he initially made the decision to not tell Scott everything that went on in the brownstone, he was convinced it was the correct thing to do. The reality was he didn't want Scott to have to go through what he did when he first met Charles. He remembered how painful it had been for him. Michael didn't want that for Scott, he wanted their relationship to be separate from anything the brownstone stood for.

He knew he needed to tell him, and had planned to do it while they were away over the weekend, but now those plans were gone and he had to face him under a totally different circumstance.

Scott was standing by the window, watching more men entering the brownstone when he heard the elevator ping. He had hoped he would have been calmer, but the confusion of what he had witness and then being so humiliatingly removed from the area had sent him over the edge. "What is this place?" He asked in a monotone voice once he knew Michael was within earshot. He continued staring out the window not bothering to turn around and look at him.

"Scott, I promised you from the beginning that I would always be honest with you." He voice copied Scott's as he told him. He walked up behind him and put his hands on his shoulders. Scott shook them off and moved away from him. Knowing how his body could betray him he didn't want to be anywhere close to him.

"Cecil was a brilliant man, but he had his demons about him. The first was that as married as he was and dedicated to his family, he was also very sadistic and had a love of BDSM. That's what they called it back then today it's called Dominance and submission or D/s. He also liked his "slaves" to have big cocks. He didn't care what their body type was, just as long as their cock was big and thick. In 1955 he bought the brownstone and decided to open a club that catered to rich, well hung, men that like to partake in sex with other men. Not only did he want the private club you saw on the main level, but he wanted a place where he could indulge in his sexual preferences. Cecil was known as the Head Master, and he was. He was an extremely brutal Master that loved to inflict pain on others. The club has evolved throughout the years, but the basic premise remains, you have to have enough money, a big enough cock and enjoy men."

"So it's a sex club where men can abuse other men?" Scott asked in a bewildered tone.

"No...it's not like that...it's a place where men can enjoy each other. Everyone that partakes does so willingly. No one is forced to do anything they don't want to do."

Scott simply shook his head. "Tell me more." He needed to know, needed to understand and maybe with Michael's words it would calm him down and he think rationally. "There are 6 levels to the brownstone. On the second lowest level is the dungeon, where Masters can scene with their submissives. Down one level from the dungeon is where the submissives live. At current time there are 55 submissives and 20 Trainers living on property. "The level where you were is the lounge and staging area. The lounge is for the men that just want to relax, maybe get a blow job or some straight vanilla sex with a submissive. The staging area is used mainly on Saturday nights for things like the wrestling match you just saw, auctions and special occasions. The floor underneath us is like a large dormitory for men that want to spend the weekend here. There are private rooms and another larger area, for weekends like this that can accommodate 50-60 beds."

"And what role do you play here?" Scott asked in a sarcastic tone.

"I own the brownstone now and...being the owner technically makes me the Head Master. Cecil, Charles and now me."

"And why didn't you tell me anything of this?"

"I was going to tell you, I had planned on telling you this weekend...I...I...wanted you to feel comfortable with everything before I told you..."

"Oh yeah Michael, this makes me feel very comfortable, let's treat the man like he's a baby and coddle him until he's man-enough to be told the truth -- yeah Michael, that was a smart move on your part."

Scott had hoped that he could understand everything enough to calm down but instead he was getting more and agitated every time Michael opened his mouth. He wondered why he was even there. All Michael had to do was point a finger and he could have anyone he wanted. In an effort to stay as calm as he could he took a couple of deep breaths before he began speaking again.

"I just don't know what to say Michael. I mean I suspected that you weren't a man that did without, but I never saw any of this coming."

A thought...a fleeting thought passed through his head and Scott paled momentarily.

"Michael...from what I saw none of these people practice safe sex - isn't there a health issue within these walls? Hell, I know we sure as shit didn't..." Scott's chest tightened more at the prospect that he had unprotected sex with someone that so copiously slept around.

"Please trust me Scott when I say this, we go to extreme lengths to make sure there is never a chance of any type of disease entering this house. In the history of the house there has never been a case of any sexually transmitted disease. Everyone in here is strictly monitored, and since they are primarily married men that are looking for a retreat to indulge in their particular vices they are more careful than anyone else. New members are not allowed to have unprotected sex for the first six months they are here. All submissives are virgins when they come to the brownstone. They are prescreened before they are even allowed in the door. They don't even get to touch anyone for the first 90 days they are here and don't have any anal contact for the first six months. Everyone and I mean everyone -- from the person that cleans the toilets to myself gets screened every thirty days. We also have a full time doctor on staff at all times."

"I didn't get screened." Scott said emphatically. There was a dead silence in the room. Michael had taken a seat on the sofa, head in his hands. It was now his turn to be unable to look at Scott.

"Michael...I repeat...I didn't get screened...." Scott's mood had moved from anger to panic as he paced in front of him "Michael...please...please tell me what I'm thinking isn't true..." For the first time since he had known him Michael couldn't look him in the eye.

"NO!" Scott sobbed, "No...You had no right... to do... that...to me."

Scott was being torn between blind rage and unimaginable pain. He didn't know what to do. When they first met Scott had felt so naïve and inexperienced and trusting Michael had helped him overcome those feelings. He had gone with him blindly and believed in him explicitly.

"Please tell me what I can do to make this right." Michael begged.

Scott lost it. "RIGHT?" he screamed. "Don't even think that any of this can be made right. How can you make something right that broke laws and violates everything I believe in personally? No Michael you can't make this right."

"Please Scott....."

"NO!" He yelled. "Don't say another fucking word..." He tried to speak, but the words choked in his throat, he hadn't realized until that moment that tears were streaming down his face. . He couldn't remember any time in his life that he ever cried. Every emotion he had ever bottled up inside of him was suddenly released with a vengeance. "I trusted you Michael, I trusted that when you told me you wanted a relationship based on trust and respect you wouldn't lie to me. You said you wanted us to be friends, well friends don't do things like that."

"No...Scott...I promise you...I didn't mean ...."

"Fuck you Michael. Fuck you and all your lies. And fuck this house and everything it stands for." On the way out of the apartment he took the watch Michael had given him and threw it on the hall table.

Then there was silence. Michael couldn't move.

It was happening again, just like it had happened with him and Charles. How could he have been so wrong about not telling him?

***************

I left the brownstone with no place to go. Going home was out of the question. I didn't want to face the reality of my life by walking through my front door and being confronting by Tina again. So I just walked around the city until I came across an all night diner. The waitress, instead of being appreciative to have a late night customer, appeared perturbed to have to wait on someone, especially when I only ordered coffee.

In an effort to earn her appreciation I took out my money clip, peeled off two one hundred bills and told her to keep the coffee coming. She was instantly transformed.

I leaned my head back against the booth taking several deep breaths to try and calm myself. It would have worked too if it hadn't been for my damn phone which hadn't stopped ringing since I left the brownstone. I knew all the calls would be from Michael, I just didn't want to hear anything he had to say. Despite that, I took my phone out and began scrolling through the call log when I noticed a phone call from Bud. I hit the return call button without bothering to listen to the message.

"Where are you?" He asked.

"I'm okay." I answered numbly.

"I didn't ask how you are. I asked where you are you fucking smartass."

"Who's asking, you or him?"

"Damn it Scott, I'm concerned I, me, Bud Fisher, wants to know where you are!"

Just then the waitress came over to check my coffee needs, without even thinking I just handed her the phone and told her to tell the nice man on the other end where exactly I was. A half an hour later, a now fully dressed Bud Fisher was sitting across from me. Before he could say a word I told him this was the most expensive table in town and the price to sit at it was $200, which he begrudgingly took from his wallet and handed to the waitress, who filled a cup for him. He added an extra $100 to leave the pot on the table and not disturb us again unless we called for her. "You are the only person I know that goes to an all night coffee shop instead of a bar when things get tough." He said in an effort to lighten the mood.

"How much do you know?" I asked him after choosing to ignore his humor.

He shrugged his shoulders "I've known Michael for years, not only through the brownstone but also as a business associate, so when I heard he was looking for a M&A attorney I recommended you. He mentioned to me last week that he felt a connection to you."

"I know that feeling" I said. "I never imagined that my life would change in such a short period of time. Everything I ever knew about myself or thought I knew about myself seems to be very muddled right now...and I'm feeling very lost and so very confused. And you? You too Bud? I would have never..."

Bud thought for a long time before speaking.

"Scott, My sexuality isn't what I'm concerned about right now. It's you. I don't know what went on between you and Michael. If you want to tell me I will listen, if not I totally understand...."

"He told me he wanted to know me better, to be my friend. He convinced me that I could talk to him about anything." I said trying to put the last week into a more painless synopsis.

I looked at Bud and suddenly my mouth couldn't stop spewing words as I told him every intimate detail of my time with Michael, how he had called me that Friday night, the drive to Pound Ridge, talking the entire night, and then how he kissed me the first time. I shut my eyes and wanting to relive that innocent moment again.

A noise in the background cleared my mind and I opened my eyes again. Bud was just sitting patiently waiting for me to continue. "I'm sorry...anyway needless to say we spent the entire weekend together. It was a mixture of new adventures, sexual awaking and unsurpassed romantic gestures. He made me feel so special, like I was the most important thing in his life. "He left for Washington on Monday and was supposed to be back sometime tonight. I decided to surprised him and be waiting for him at the apartment when he got there. Only I didn't realize until I got there that I didn't have the elevator code that's how I ended up on that floor and, well you know the rest.

"After you left me alone with Michael he told me about the brownstone...Bud, I can't fathom why he would want to be with someone like me, a confused heterosexual that has zero sexual experience, when he could have anyone that sets foot in that place."

Bud smiled and took a deep breath before speaking. "My sweet naïve little protégé, Michael doesn't want anyone at the brownstone, the men at the brownstone are a diversion, that's all. He wants you -- Scott Phillips. If he made you feel like the most important thing in his life, than I can bet my last dollar that you are all of that and more. Michael is a very passionate and dedicated man. He doesn't care about your sexual inexperience he saw way beyond that before he ever made his first move. And Scott, I think you and I both now know that confused heterosexual thing is a little clearer to you after everything that has gone on lately."

I just shrugged my shoulders not willing to commit to anything.

"I'd like to tell you how I came to be at the brownstone, maybe in some way it will help, may not...."

"I'd like that. The more I know maybe I can understand these things better."

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Bud was a first year law student the summer he clerked for Robert Chapman. He chose Robert's law firm for two reasons, one it was a smaller firm and he figured he would be able to get real hands on experience and two, it was in Boston, just a few miles from his law school -- Harvard. He wasn't like most of the other law students who preferred to spend their summers clerking at larger firms in Washington and New York. No, he loved Boston and wanted to stay in this oh so familiar city as long as he could. Robert Chapman was handsome man that always made his presence known with his dynamic and domineering personality. Bud figured that was why he was a successful as he was. Not too many people had the courage to cross Robert Chapman -- in or out of the courtroom. After a few weeks of working with him Bud decided he wanted to be just like him.

One Saturday afternoon Bud decided he wanted to finish up on some research he had been working on for Mr. Chapman. He knew there would be people at the office since they were working on the biggest case the firm ever had taken on before. He figured he could just slip in and hide himself away in the in-house law library Mr. Chapman so generously provided so he wouldn't get in anyone's way.

It was past eight when he finally finished the brief he was preparing, he put the books away and was preparing to leave when he heard voices coming from the conference room. Silently he walked over and looked through the cracked door. He saw Mr. Chapman immediately. His was standing, half-turned towards the doorway, with an expression on his face Bud had never seen before. Mr. Chapman looked down and Bud followed his eyes until he saw what Mr. Chapman was looking at -- a man on his knees his mouth filled with Mr. Chapman's cock.

"Oh yeah...you love sucking my cock...you are such a good cock sucker...I love sluts that suck cock like you do..." he kept mumbling enjoying every moment of pleasure this man was bringing him. Bud was beside himself. He had never witnessed, anything like that before. He also had never heard anyone talk like that before, so dirty, so enticing...it was such a turn on. He never spoke to anyone about sex before but admittedly he fantasized a lot...and even though he had his share of fantasies about making love to women, there were the deep dark ones that revolved around men, doing things like he was looking at right now.

Mr. Chapman was holding the man's head, stroking his cock in and out of his mouth. He never stopped talking to him, telling him how good his mouth felt, how he was a born cocksucker...words that were making Bud's cock harder and harder. "Oh fuck...you are going to make me cum..." he groaned pulling his cock from the man's mouth. He stroked it one last time before shooting a large wet load over the man's face before shoving it back in his mouth and finishing himself off.

"Oh yeah...keep sucking me, drain me dry." He whispered in a lecherous tone.

Bud was beside himself. He rushed from the hallway into the bathroom. It took less than a minute for him to shoot the best load he ever remembered having. His cock was even still hard, but he knew he needed to leave. There was always later...he knew the images of what he saw would remain with him forever.

Two nights later Bud was working in late in the library when Mr. Chapman approached him. "I read the brief you submitted," he said sitting uninvited at the table, "it was very good. You did your research, your facts were well presented...I am very impressed, so much so I want you on some of the cases I'm working on."

Bud was elated. Not only to be able to work directly with Mr. Chapman, but somewhere deep inside of him he hoped maybe there would be more.

It was late the following Friday that Bud finally found himself alone with Mr. Chapman. He had been in court all day and it was well after six in the evening before he returned to the office.

Bud had stayed just in case Mr. Chapman needed anything from him -- anything at all. He waited patiently for him to read over the briefs he had completed. When he was done Mr. Chapman gave him a curt nod and told him that was all.

Bud was disappointed. He milled around at his desk for a few minutes, hoping that maybe Mr. Chapman would want him for something else, but after twenty minutes he made the move to leave.

"Oh Bud..." Mr. Chapman called from his office. "One last thing..."

Bud walked into his office. Robert Chapman was standing in front of his desk leaning his against it in a relaxed manner.

"Sir?" Bud asked walking in slowly.

"I think you wanted something else?" Mr. Chapman half asked, half stated.

"I'm not sure I understand Sir." Bud said innocently, after all how could he come right out and say he wanted to suck his boss's cock...it just didn't sound right.

"I saw you the other day...watching me..." Bud's face instantly went beet red with embarrassment. "I liked knowing you were watching...it made my orgasm so much better...that's why I shot my load all over Oliver's face, I wanted you to see it..."

"Sir...I'm sorry....really...I didn't mean..."