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  Fettered Love

  Michelle Polaris

  Part of the 1-800-DOM-help series.

  Kirk, Master to his long-time lover Evan, decides it’s time to place his permanent collar around Evan’s sexy cock. But when he proposes, he faces a surprise. Evan wants a child. So where will they find a kinky woman to help?

  A mysterious card with the 1-800-DOM-help number advertises assistance for unusual problems in the BDSM community. When Evan calls, he recognizes the voice of Sarah—Kirk’s best friend from childhood, Evan’s Mistress of several years in college. They both loved her and suffered betrayal when she walked out of their lives.

  Now she proposes to be the mother of their child. No strings, just a chance to have the men she respects and loves back in her life. Evan embraces the idea while Kirk rages with mistrust.

  At Evan’s request, they share one night of passion, Kirk and Sarah working together to dominate Evan in the scene of his erotic fantasies, hoping it will be enough to rekindle trust and make all their dreams come true.

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing

  www.ellorascave.com

  Fettered Love

  ISBN 9781419932854

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Fettered Love Copyright 2011 Michelle Polaris

  Edited by Mary Moran

  Cover art by Syneca

  Electronic book publication January 2011

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Fettered Love

  Michelle Polaris

  Trademarks Acknowledgment

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Harvard University: President and Fellows of Harvard College Corporation Massachusetts

  Jell-O: Kraft Food Holdings, Inc.

  Mother Teresa: The Mother Teresa of Calcutta Center Non-Profit Corp

  Peanuts: United Feature Syndicate, Inc. DBA United Media Corporation

  Technicolor: Technicolor Trademark Management societe par actions simplifiee (sas)

  The Magic

  The magic begins with the appearance of the business card. Sleek black print on a pristine white background—unassuming in its appearance. Those brave enough to call the number will begin a journey that will explore their greatest desires.

  Once the call is made, the Operator goes to work. Somehow he knows just what every caller needs, always able to find the answer the caller seeks.

  Callers may be directed to Unfettered, a new club in town, one nobody has heard of. It provides a safe haven for all who enter. Members are free to explore their every desire…even those they weren’t aware of. Little do they know Unfettered will disappear once those yearnings have eased.

  Submissives who don’t know how to handle their Dominants. Masters looking for the perfect sub. People who need just a little push to admit vanilla isn’t their favorite flavor. The card finds them all.

  And once you dial 1-800-DOM-help, anything can happen.

  Chapter One

  The spider web cradled his lover as he hung locked in its strands, candlelight glinting off his naked limbs and bare shaven flesh from the dozens of wicks flickering around the edges of their dungeon. The perfect picture of Evan caught and struggling in the webbing, intensity off the charts and riding the wave of pain.

  Just the way Kirk liked him.

  Kirk circled his sub with lazy regard, dragging a metal-bristled brush over the skin of his shoulders, chest and clamped nipples, irritating the squeezed flesh when he bumped over the constricted nubs. “You want more, don’t you, Ev?” He dug the bristles in harder and smiled at the gasp of reaction.

  “Yes,” Evan moaned. “God yes.”

  Kirk ran the bristles down Ev’s abdomen to the reddened, weeping helmet of his cock. He tapped the smooth head lightly with the brush, the organ straining farther against Ev’s belly with the contact. “I’m not sure you deserve it. You’ve been working too hard, wearing yourself out. I don’t appreciate your mistreatment of what is mine. You belong to me, sweetheart. Maybe I’ll keep you hanging there as punishment. Waiting. I’ll stuff your mouth with a gag, invite over that interesting woman who moved in next door and make you watch me fuck her.”

  “Shit!” His sub moaned again and shifted in his restraints, testing them. “Master.” The continued twitch of his shaft made it clear the idea aroused him, even if he fought against it.

  Deep erotic anticipation suffused Kirk’s body watching Ev like this and brought a pleasurable ache to his groin. This play was the way Evan liked it too, if his rigid cock was any measure, submitting to Kirk only after struggling to free himself. It was part of their game and what aroused his sub most. Letting first the panic and then the gut-level knowledge of his unavoidable vulnerability soak into him. Letting the endorphins do their work, flying him to sub space where he just accepted.

  Or at least that’s what Evan always explained about the sensation after their lovemaking, a stupid, sloppy grin on his face as they lay in the big bed of their Cambridge apartment. Kirk liked to humor his partner, listen to Ev’s low voice smooth over the conversation the same way Evan stroked the handcrafted wooden creations in his shop. As if the furniture he designed and created by hand were living, breathing beings.

  Stupid, idiotically sentimental man. Kirk loved him.

  Drawn back to Evan, Kirk forced down his restless need to swallow his lover whole. “You want this and I’ll send you deep, just where you need to be. Your Master will take good care of you. Savor the pain for me, sweetheart.”

  Evan’s glazed eyes rolled back as Kirk struck his ass one last time with the metal bristles.

  Over a damn decade was enough. Although they’d been on and off since college, mostly on, it was time to make their relationship permanent. A buzzing expectation vibrated inside Kirk’s bones. He’d made his plan weeks ago, and his tight chest, the fight to control his breathing, stay calm and centered in the scene pushed at his control.

  Kirk liked his control. One of the reasons he knew his decision to make an official commitment was right was how spinning-top crazy Evan made him, yet how Kirk didn’t mind in the least. He didn’t mind that in the end it was Evan, his sub, in control in their relationship, making the final decisions about giving away his power. Ultimately he held the reins, as was true in every D/s situation. And Evan had that power even more so now since Kirk’s freaking heart was involved. He knew the time had come because of his drive to protect Ev, to make him happy. Not to mention Kirk’s endless need to fuck his lover, watch him buck back to ram Kirk’s cock deeper and welcome anything Kirk gave with his entire soul.

 
Damn, he sounded like some pathetic, sappy woman in love. Ev was the drippy romantic one. Not him. He’d given up those gestures years ago as a waste. They led to nothing. If a person someone cared for wanted to run away, they’d run no matter how many flowers were delivered on bended knee. That’s what he loved about Ev. He’d take flowers or no flowers, but in the end his devotion and loyalty were unquestionable. He loved fully and unashamedly. No holding back. No running. What real family would do for each other.

  Kirk’s thoughts bounced to the woman he’d rather forget, to long chestnut hair, a pair of gold-green eyes, and the fucking ache that recurring memory still raised. To thoughts of the family he’d believed he’d been creating long ago.

  His memory flashed in Technicolor.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Kirk over at Sarah’s house, the two of them watching the younger kids during their high school spring break while her mom worked. Her laughing as she convinced her stubborn much younger brother to eat his lunch by making the pieces of chicken dance around like his favorite cartoon character. Her hair shining in her silliness as she tossed her head side to side.

  Later, her rocking the baby to sleep in the living room as he watched. He’d always hated that she’d had to take two years off in the middle of high school just to help her mom cope. Although it meant they were in the same graduating class. So young to be so good at mothering. A natural. Better suited than her own single mother.

  That night, the two of them sitting on the screened-in porch, legs pumping in synch to get the porch swing going as fast as they could manage. Laughing more.

  The hours he spent at her place to avoid the frigid loneliness of his own home. Always welcomed by her. Him taking care of her and the kids with side projects, little gifts he knew the family needed desperately, slipping in his help without her notice. Watching out for that sticky pride of hers. But she knew he needed to do it. Otherwise, how was he different from what he got at home?

  And that stellar afternoon he’d hauled ass and run to her place after getting his acceptance to Harvard in the mail. Only to find her jumping up and down in front of her mailbox, celebrating her own acceptance there. Both swearing to leave small town Midwest life behind forever and live large.

  Her lips so close to his as she leaned in. Their chaste first kiss with the promise of fire to come behind her eyes. So she was a couple of years older. Who cared? Best friends for years by then but finally taking a new step toward one another. Toward a future. It called to him even then.

  The tension sizzling, his need to back her to a wall, to make her stay put there, moan at his touch, to thread his fist through her hair and pull until she gasped, eyes bright and just for him. The confusion over his urges as he saw in her all he respected. Her strength and will.

  Jesus, she was always so beautiful.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Evan groaned in the here and now, and Kirk shook out of the memory and those ridiculous naïve years of his youth. Screw the bitch. Why she haunted him after all this time, and in the middle of one of the best nights of his life, he didn’t know. He refused to let the rage from what he’d lost target his lover.

  Kirk dragged in a deep breath and let the pain wash over him, the anger sink its jagged claws into his skin, then accepted it and went about the process of diminishing its power. Yes, good. His knotted gut smoothed out and the memories faded. This was the miracle, the acceptance, the clear sense of rightness about himself and his choices that allowed him to hold his sub with absolute surety. Calm now, he focused once again on the blue-eyed miracle in front of him.

  Evan. A little under six feet of sandy-haired, suntanned, toned flesh. Belonging all to Kirk. Suffering for Kirk. Because they both wanted it that way. And it made the love deeper when Ev opened all of himself, dropped all barriers to give it up to his Master. A gift—the greatest of them. Absolute trust. No way would he let Evan get away. This was a D/s match made in heaven.

  Kirk reached out to the man, almost but not touching. He loved seeing the sweat trailing down Ev’s torso, his nipples clamped, cock and balls harnessed, and streaks of reddened skin and dried wax decorating shoulders, chest and abs. The trail of leavings from the candles went down into his groin. A series of small clamps pinched the skin of his inner thighs right under his balls, one grasping the strip of his perineum under his sac. Even without Kirk’s touch, Evan was rocking his ass, fucking the air with what movement the spider web allowed. His pain and arousal were one and the same.

  “How long should I keep you in this condition, sweetheart?” Kirk asked, scraping a blunted nail down Ev’s abs to the tip of his erect penis, digging that nail into the weeping slit of his cock head. The vibrator sunk in Ev’s ass was set at low and had been working him for the entire session. His balls had crept up high on his body, so close to explosion that Kirk marveled at Ev’s ability to hold it until he’d received permission to ejaculate.

  “Tell me how much you want to come, how much you want me to allow some friction on that cock of yours. More importantly, how much you want to suck your Master off. You serve me, sweetheart, make me feel good and I just might give you relief tonight.”

  “Master,” Evan groaned low, fucking his hips once more in the air, unable to control himself. “Please.”

  “Such nice begging. I don’t see you struggling to get loose anymore. You tell me how you can’t get out. Tell me that you’re at my mercy. Do it now,” he said, his voice hard, “or you’ll be in there all night.”

  As if the reminder triggered some primal response in Evan, he began struggling again, rocking the wood-framed spider web. But Kirk had bolted it to their floor just for this reason. Ev knew it. He’d helped sink the bolts himself. Yet Kirk’s sexy sub couldn’t help but test it when goaded. Some element of rough struggle always played a part in their sex. Evan craved it.

  His body shook in the web, inarticulate cries of anger, pain and arousal rising from him. Evan had carved the wood frame with tiny thorns and teardrops, the symbolism bringing a smile to his sub’s lips when he’d finished the project and presented it to Kirk. Remembering, watching the real tears drip down Ev’s face as Kirk tugged on the clamps, and contrasting them to the carved version, pleased Kirk no end. Jesus, his lover knew how to make him happy.

  His cock hardened farther, if that was possible, pressing against the seam of his jeans and digging into the zipper. The little pain drove the arousal higher. Kirk wasn’t into pain himself, but his pain-pleasure receptors were tied together like most everyone’s. If he was horny enough, the lines blurred to a small extent. Ev’s on the other hand? Major cross wire. Pain wasn’t Ev’s sole or even dominant kink, so the two had plenty of room for all sorts of creative play. He fucking loved doing anything to this man. And Evan craved giving whatever was asked. His deep submission was goddamn gorgeous.

  “I can keep this up much longer than you,” Kirk added. “You’re only wearing yourself out. You know I’ll get what I want in the end.”

  Evan jerked his arms and legs, kept shaking the webbing. After minutes passed, his movement lessened, died. His head and shoulders slumped in the rope.

  “Can’t get out. I’m caught. Yours, Master,” he gasped and growled between gulping breaths. “Your will.”

  A fierce bolt of lust caught Kirk’s belly and balls. The special strength it took a submissive to bear all his Master demanded was the wondrous and envious ability of a sub. To find that space of blissful spiritual peace, to accept the load and just be, was a gift. Kirk doubted he could do the same.

  He reached behind Ev and adjusted the button on the plug’s vibrator, increasing the speed and intensity.

  “Shit!” Evan shouted, hips pivoting again.

  “What do you want, love? Tell me.”

  “To suck you off, Master. Let me. Tell me what you want. Anything. God, Kirk, let me do it. I’m going to come.”

  “No, you’re not. Not until I tell you. But I’ll undo the straps and you’ll get on your knees, sweetheart. Wrists crossed
behind your back for me.”

  Looking at the earnest, beautiful, exhausted man almost hurt as Ev stumbled down from the webbing when freed. Fuck, Kirk was a hard-up goner on this guy. Ev lowered himself to his knees with a grace that should have been impossible after suffering so long. But he did it.

  His wrists moved behind his back as ordered. He gazed up at Kirk with one long, heavy glance, full of so much it made Kirk’s heart pound like a son of a bitch. Was it his heart or his cock that ached worse?

  He unzipped his fly and took out his cock. He threaded fingers through Ev’s sandy hair and tugged, the grunt and sudden shutter of Evan’s eyes was almost as gratifying as the look of bliss on his face when he opened them fully and bent forward to mouth Kirk’s penis. In a long lunge, he engulfed the phallus in his hot, wet mouth, deep-throating him immediately, using his tongue and teeth to deliver the pressure he knew Kirk preferred.

  Kirk just about crawled out of his skin, fireworks beginning to pop immediately in his balls and the base of his spine. He wouldn’t last long. There’d been too much anticipation behind this evening.

  He began ramming his cock deeper and faster between his lover’s lips, hitting the back of Ev’s throat, fucking his mouth with a desperation he rarely felt. A fast track to orgasm and amazing all over again. He watched himself shuttle in and out of his lover’s mouth, those lips stretched around the shaft and wet trailing down Evan’s chin. Ev had no gag reflex. Kirk had trained him out of it. But he knew his sub would feel the abuse of his mouth and throat after the fact.

  So good. So fucking hot. Building explosion. Jesus, Kirk was close. The suction grew wetter, tighter. Kirk’s pace grew uneven, his hips losing their smooth rhythm. Tingling flushed through his spine and balls.