Page 6 of Inferno

I’m so absorbed in all the ways I could show the world and Henry that he’s mine, that I don’t even realize Danny has spoken until my boy stiffens, clearly shocked and…uncomfortable?

“How long have you been working for the Barnetts?” Danny asks.

“Almost four months,” Henry answers, his eyes darting to me, before turning back to Danny again.

“Do you like it?” I ask, keeping my voice low and soft, determined not to scare him again, but needing to know the answer. If he likes his job, I’ll let him keep it. If he doesn’t, then I’ll make him quit, and I’ll take care of him instead. Dotingon him would be my pleasure and privilege. Coming home to him after a long few days and finding him naked, plugged, and spread out ready to be devoured, sounds like a dream come true.

“Yes,” Henry answers, but he keeps his gaze forward, answering me without looking at me.

His single word response bothers me. I know I shouldn’t touch him. He’s not mine, even though he feels like he is, but the dominant in me can’t cope with the lack of obedience. I want his attention, and before I even realize I’m moving, my fingers are beneath his chin, gently but firmly turning his face until he’s looking at me.

Even with my fingers keeping him in place, his frantic gaze still fights my demand, looking above and to either side of me until finally, his eyes lock with mine.

“I like to see people’s faces when they’re talking to me,” I tell him, speaking softly, but putting enough force into my voice that I’m confident he’ll recognize my words for what they are. An order.

His pupils dilate, and his lips part just enough to allow a silent gasp to fall free. There’s uncertainty and fear in his eyes as he stares back at me. His expression screams innocence, and I know that if I allow myself to touch him, I’ll take over his life and refuse him even an inch of independence.

But I’ve seen the way my behavior can weigh on a person, and I vowed never to do that again. I realized that I was an unnaturally dominant person in my early twenties. A few years later I discovered BDSM and power exchange, and I started my first Dom/sub relationship after I met a male sub at a BDSM club.

We started out just doing scenes at the club, and soon after mutually realized that we both wanted more than a preplanned hour twice a week. Our relationship burned bright and fast and disintegrated to ashes just as quickly.

Gabe was a great guy, but he wanted a scene partner to take control when sex was involved but then expected his Dom to not have an opinion on his life outside of the bedroom. I thought that was something I could do, but it wasn’t. As much as I tried, I couldn’t stop my dominant needs from spreading into the rest of our relationship, and Gabe hated that.

He hated me asking him where he was and what his plans for the day were. He despised my jealousy if he wanted to go to a club or gay bar without me. He called me controlling and labeled my needs as abusive and extreme.

After we split up, it took me years of therapy to understand that Gabe and I may have been sexually compatible, but that our needs in a relationship were very different. I need someone who wants to submit to me in every way, someone who needs the control I crave, and he was simply an independent person who enjoyed only sexual submission. Despite my therapist assuring me that my behavior, though controlling, wasn’t abusive, it still took me years to even consider trying to be in a relationship again. I was terrified that what felt like non-negotiables to me would seem like an abuse of power to others.

When I met Erin, she was more than happy to hand over all of her choices to me. She needed someone to keep her focused and in line, and I was happy to do that for her. For a while our relationship seemed like a dream come true. She wanted to be cared for, doted on, and I needed someone who would follow my lead and my rules. Everything was perfect until she asked me if we could have a domestic discipline arrangement, where I’d use corporal punishment to correct her behavior if she did something wrong.

We talked about what she needed. We talked about rules and consequences and how we would manage the change in our relationship. I’ve spanked a few asses in my time, and the idea of disciplining my partner turned me on, so I agreed to try, butafter a few months we realized that neither of us was getting what we needed from the other.

After a few painful but honest conversations, we agreed to amicably end our relationship, and she’s now happily married to the owner of the BDSM club we were both members of. They have a master/slave marriage that fulfills both of their needs, and they’re blissfully happy.

After that, I had a few short flings with subs, and although it was fun, it wasn’t right. When I met Corrine, I thought I’d found the one. She was deeply sexually submissive and willing to follow the rules I needed outside of the bedroom. Until the blowup with her family, I’d thought I’d spend the rest of my life with her.

Once I realized she only really wanted the picture of me she’d created in her head, our relationship deteriorated, and after we split, I decided that contenting myself with one-night stands and scene partners at clubs made more sense than searching for something in a relationship that I didn’t seem to be able to find.

Unfortunately, I stupidly decided to have a one-nighter with a fellow firefighter at my last placement before I came to Montana. Tom was happy enough to swallow my dick whole and ride my cock like a cowboy while we were hidden in his bedroom. But the next morning, he threatened to say I’d sexually harassed him if I ever told anyone what had happened between us.

I never told a soul, but he still made the few months I spent working alongside him really fucking shitty. When I took the job in Montana, I made the decision to keep my extracurriculars on the down-low, because my sex life is no one’s business but mine.

Now that I’ve been in Montana for over a year and have made Rockhead Point my home and my teammates my friends and family, it’s probably long past the time when I should have told them who I really am.

But I guess my truth is now well and truly out of the bag, because in the minutes since I spotted Henry through the window, I’ve outed myself to my teammate and showed this beautiful boy how much of a dominant asshole I am.

Still holding Henry’s chin in my fingers, I try to understand what his eyes are silently pleading for. His gaze feels conflicted, like he doesn’t know if he should scream, cry, or run away. It’s clear he doesn’t understand his reaction to me, but my fucked-up dick likes it anyway.

I’m rock-hard, my balls aching from the hint of fear and desperation that’s etched across his face. Since I sat down beside him and demanded his attention, my boy has shown me his submission, even though I doubt he realizes it. My fingers may be on him, but I’m not holding him in place. I’m barely touching him, yet he’s looking at me like I scare him and hold the answers to all of his questions all at once.

“Eat your food,” I tell him, rubbing the pad of my thumb over his bottom lip before I lower my hand completely.

Blinking, his cheeks bloom into a sexily embarrassed shade of red, and I smile, not bothering to try to hide my amusement at his reaction to me and my demands.

Slowly he turns to his bowl of fucking tater tots that are topped with cheese and bacon. It takes him a moment to pick up his fork, but once he does, he starts to eat like he’s starving to death. He’s not a pig; he doesn’t get food on his face or shovel more tots into his mouth before he chews and swallows. But he eats with a single-minded intent that tells me that at some point—maybe even now—he’s been hungry enough that he eats his food like it could be stolen from him at any moment.

The thought that this boy,my boy, might not have enough to eat makes me want to throw him over my shoulder and take him home with me. I’m a bossy, dominant asshole, but if he wasbeneath my control, I’d make sure he was well fed, well cared for…well fucked.

There wouldn’t be a single thing that he’d want or need that I didn’t provide. I’d give him the fucking world in exchange for one thing—him.

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