Naughty November

Chapter 3

THREE

“I’d like to reserve the Bordello for Saturday next. Eight or nine o’clock,” I said to Jacob with a glance at Atticus, who nodded.

It was strange to see him in his regular clothes again, and to know everything I did about how he looked without them, and how he felt under my hands and around my cock. And how he looked with that fucking tail arching over his back.

I passed the key to Jacob.

My dick was starting to fill again, but I willed it down.

Atticus’ hand landed on the small of my back, and something warmed in my chest as he rubbed me through my shirt, a silent communication that I loved.

“Excellent,” Jacob said. “I guess it went well.”

“Very,” Atticus responded. “You should pay me a commission.”

Jacob and I laughed.

“You got your commission already,” I muttered, giving him a molten glance and delighting in his blush.

“Snap,” he said with a grin. “I sure did.”

I woke up the next day wanting to text Atticus. But in the interests of being polite, I didn’t. Our encounter in the Bordello had stirred me more than I’d imagined it would. It was concerning in a way, but also exciting.

Every time I checked my phone, I half hoped for a text from him, but maybe he was caught up in the same conundrum.

That night I decided that not texting him, when I really wanted to, was ridiculous. I was a forty-year-old man, and too old for these games.

Me: Hey, just checking in. How’s your ass?

I was a grown man, but I was still a slut.

He didn’t reply right away, of course, and I tried to go about my business and not think about it. But the delight that rose inside me when he did text me back was unexpected.

Atticus: My ass? Laughing face emoji. Peach emoji. Question mark.

Me: All right, all right. Just making sure you’re okay.

Atticus : Oh honey, I am not okay. I don’t know if I can wait until Saturday.

I grinned and tapped a reply.

Me: Well, you have to. And you’ll do it patiently, while thinking of that hitching post.

Atticus: Shocked face. Oh God. I need to find my inner pony, but I think he just high-tailed it for the barn.

Me: Laughing face. I’m doing my research. You have no idea what you’re in for.

It took a moment for him to respond, but then he sent a photo of a horse with blinders on.

Me: Just keep it in your pants until Saturday. No orgasms between now and then.

Atticus: shocked face. What!

Me: Kidding. Maybe.

I sent him a laughing emoji.

But he had the last laugh. It took some time, and when I got the next photo, I realized why. My phone notified me just as I was preparing to leave the office. I wouldn’t have checked it right away, except that I knew I’d be driving for the next twenty or so minutes and wouldn’t be able to.

It was a photo of Atticus, standing in a very well-equipped walk-in shower. He was holding a hand-held sprayer over his head, his curls wet and sticking to his scalp.

He wasn’t naked. Oh no. He was in a pair of drenched white briefs through which I could see the outline of his dick, and an open black jean jacket, also soaking, with splotches of white where bleach had been splattered to great effect. His lips were parted. He wasn’t looking at the camera, but down at the bottom of the shower, and the image was the sexiest fucking thing I’d seen since we’d been in that room together. Maybe for a long time before that.

I was paralyzed, standing there by the door, taking in the utter beauty of this sexy as hell photo, when my co-worker Laney came up behind me.

“Earth to Luther. Did you get a dick pic?”

I shoved my phone in my pocket, giving a fake laugh. “No, no. Nothing like that.”

Everything like that, but better .

“That’s a shame,” she said as she moved past me. “See you tomorrow.”

I lifted a hand in a cursory wave, then checked behind me and brought my phone out of my pocket to look at that goddamn photo again.

I wasn’t sure why, but the fact that Atticus was wearing clothes in the shower made it so much hotter than if he’d just taken a picture of himself naked.

I saw the three dots fading in and out under the sent photo.

Atticus: What do you think?

I checked my surroundings again and sent him six flame emojis, hoping that would convey my appreciation.

He sent back a peach and eggplant.

I had to use a tripod to take that. Otherwise, you’d have had it sooner.

Jesus Christ. This man would be my undoing.

I was the first to arrive at Maverick Molly’s that Saturday.

We’d texted back and forth all week, joking around and being silly. Honestly, the exchanges brightened my days—and nights. He hadn’t sent any more photos, because I’d told him that nothing could compare to the perfection of the one he’d sent. I even asked his consent to jerk off to it, and he’d said that he would be honored, and asked me to send a photo of the results. I’d done so, hoping it wouldn’t be flagged by the Apple Gods who probably had better things to do than monitor my phone messages.

It was a shot of my hand coated with jizz.

Atticus: I want to lick it off. Tongue hanging out emoji.

Me: Don’t worry, you’ll get your chance.

So here I was, sitting at a table in the gaming parlor, watching the pretty twinks serving drinks in their Victorian underwear, and trying to be patient. Atticus had texted that he was running late but on his way. I kept checking my watch, and it was getting closer and closer to the time of our reservation. I didn’t appreciate my subs being late to a previously arranged encounter, even if they had notified me. It was so disrespectful.

When he did show up and breezed into the gaming parlor with a friendly smile, I frowned and tapped my watch.

“You’re late, Atticus.”

His smile wavered. “I’m so sorry, Luther. I didn’t mean to be.”

“Apology accepted,” I said, standing and keeping my expression neutral, even though I was delighted to see him. “But we need to get moving.”

“Yes, Sir,” Atticus said, his eyes going wide as I took his elbow and brought him to the bar where Sebastian was cleaning up.

“Holy fuck,” he said, glancing at me. “I like you when you’re bossy and grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy,” I said in a sober tone, turning to Sebastian. I didn’t let go of Atticus, though. “Can I get the key, please, Sebastian? I have a punishment to deliver.” I glanced at Atticus. “Two punishments, actually.”

“ Two!” Atticus remarked.

“Don’t you remember? Or should I tell Sebastian? ”

“Oh wait. Yeah. And I guess I’m getting punished for being late, even though I apologized?”

“Of course.”

“Hot dog!” he said, and both Sebastian and I looked at him. I tried not to laugh at the excited look on his handsome face. “Oh sorry,” he said, frowning with mock displeasure. “I mean, oh no!”

A laugh did escape me—the kid was too cute—but then I resumed my stern expression and took the key from Sebastian.

As soon as the door to the Bordello shut behind us, I told Atticus to strip. He hadn’t brought his pup gear this time, because we were going to make use of some of the supplies that were stocked in this room.

It didn’t take him long to get naked. I watched as he revealed all of that soft Mediterranean skin and shook out his curls after pulling his t-shirt over his head.

“On your knees. Here.” I said, pointing at my feet. I was still dressed.

Atticus went down and sat on his heels, gazing up at me with the sexiest fucking look on his face.

“You’re going to let me fuck your face, and I’m going to come down your throat. Got it?”

He blinked. Then nodded.

“Since you’re not pretending to be an animal at the moment, you can answer me.”

“Yes, Sir. Got it.”

Better.

I’m sure he had a legitimate excuse for being late, but he needed to know how I expected him to behave. Punctuality was important to me. I had a busy life and things to do, and I needed him to be where I asked him to be when he said he’d be there.

I watched his face as I took out my cock, already hard and ready.

“Use your tongue first. Get me wet,” I said, aiming my dick at his beautiful mouth.

“Yes, Sir,” Atticus gasped, rearing up and surging forward, bracing his hands on my thighs as he nuzzled the wet tip of my dick. A trail of moisture snaked across his cheek and chin as he licked the head in timid little darts .

“Don’t fucking tease it. Lick it properly.”

“May I use my hands, Sir?” Atticus asked.

“Yes, you may.”

He took the base of my cock in one hand and went at the tip like it was a fucking rocket lollipop, as I tried to keep my knees from buckling. It felt incredible, of course, but the sight of Atticus gazing up at me with the same adoration he’d had in the pup hood, made me dizzy.

He seemed to be enjoying himself, and I let him go on for a while before telling him to stop.

“Open your mouth, wide,” I instructed. “That’s it. Now stick out your tongue as far as you can. Oh yeah. I need you to be a good little slut for my cock.”

I stroked myself while I looked at him kneeling there, with his mouth open wide and his tongue out, and thought about simply painting his face with my jizz. I could have. But I wanted to come down his throat.

“You want me to come in your mouth?”

“Yes, Sir. Please, Sir,” he said, sticking his tongue out eagerly once he was finished speaking.

“Good boy,” I said.

I tapped the flat of his tongue with the head of my cock, watching as a string of pre-ejaculate connected us for a moment. Then I slid my cock into his mouth, enjoying the warmth and wetness, and thrilling to the depraved look of it. I grabbed a handful of his curls and held him still.

He was a good boy, accommodating my actions even when he coughed and choked. I lasted longer than I thought I would. His face went pink, but he gazed up at me with a blissful expression. As rough as I was, I made sure he was able to take breaths and not in actual distress.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I gasped, the orgasm coming hard as I watched Atticus’ cheeks bulge and his throat work. “Oh fuck.”

I let my dick slide from his slack mouth, and he struggled, the fluid dripping over his lips and chin as he swallowed what he could. So fucking hot. I loved making an absolute mess of a sub.

I dropped to my knees and kissed him, licking the jizz off his lips and delighting in his eagerness to accept my probing tongue. We rose up against each other, and I couldn’t stop my hands from roaming over him, my fingers from pushing into his crevice, and my fingers from teasing his hole.

I pulled back and stared at him. He stared at me. More was said between us in that silent moment than had been verbalized the whole time we’d known each other. But this wasn’t the time for endearments.

“All right, then. You gonna be my pretty pony?”

“Fuck yes,” he said.

I raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, fuck yes, Sir .” Atticus’ grin was beatific and adoring.

I pushed myself up and tucked myself away. It wouldn’t take me long to get hard again—not in this room with this man—and when I did, after we’d played pony for a bit, I was fucking him again. And maybe, after I was done, Atticus would get to have an orgasm. Perhaps I’d leave him in a state of arousal, have him phone me later tonight, and listen while he gave himself one.

“Get up and follow me.”

He stood, his dick sticking straight up against his belly as he walked, a sight that was so pleasing I could barely keep my eyes off it. I found myself eager to touch Atticus’ cock—tease and suck it, hear his moans—and that wasn’t something I normally did with casual hook-ups. The men I met up with were there to service me, for the most part, and they enjoyed it.

I led Atticus over to the hitching post.

As per my request, Sebastian had laid out the items I’d requested on a nearby bench. I grinned as I lifted the large rubber plug with the horsehair tail cascading from it. There were army boots in Atticus’ size with a pair of wool socks.

“Oh my fuck,” Atticus breathed, his eyes almost crossing.

“Put on the socks and boots, please. You can sit on the bench.”

I watched him do it. I had a thing for boots, so I was quite fascinated with the process. When he’d finished I had him stand and I walked around him, delighting in his nakedness and the contrast between this vulnerability and the solidity of the footwear .

“You want a tail, pretty pony?” I asked, twisting the plug in the air to make the tail swish back and forth.

“Yes, please, Sir. Please .”

“Bend over and hold on to the hitch, then.”

Atticus bent and wrapped his fingers around the metal hitch, sticking his ass out eagerly while I smeared lube over the plug.

“Spread your legs.”

As he widened his stand, I noticed that his hole was already slick and shiny.

“Did you…” I asked, “Did you get yourself ready for me?”

“Yes, Sir. I hope you don’t mind, Sir.”

Mind?

“Of course I don’t mind. I admire your forethought.”

“Thank you, Sir,” he said, while I fingered him, stretching him.

“Wait,” I said, “That’s not why you were late, is it?”

“No, Sir. Again, I’m sorry for being late. I’m usually on time for things.”

“Just don’t be late again.”

“No, Sir. I won’t.”

I slathered lube all over the pony tail plug, then ran the tip along Atticus’ crack, teasing at his hole.

“What a sweet fucking pony you are. I should give you a name.”

I used my thumb to spread him and pushed the plug home as Atticus made soft sounds of submission.

“That’s it, my pretty pony.”

My cock swelled, filling out my jeans as I watched and bit my lower lip. The sizeable plug slipped in with relative ease—a testament to Atticus’ capabilities as a slutty bottom.

Gold star.

The sounds he made, my God. I had to clamp down on my own rising desire. This man was so fucking amazing and he looked so good with the black horse hair cascading down the backs of his thighs.

“I’m going to call you Midnight,” I said, stroking his tanned flank and watching his muscles tense and quiver as he got used to the invasion. “Now stand up while I tack you with the rest of the gear.”

Atticus obeyed, gazing at me out of those raw and expressive eyes as I picked up the bridle. It was made of leather straps and had blinders affixed to the sides, and tall black leather ears on the head strap, and even a slim rubber bit.

“Open your mouth.”

I slipped the bit between Atticus’ teeth, my knuckles sliding over his soft tongue. Leather reins dangled from each side of the rings to which the bit was attached.

“Bite down. Good boy, Midnight. Such a good pony.”

I drew the rest of it over his head, the pony ears making him look fucking adorable as the leather straps of the bridle flattened some of his curls and went behind his ears. I made sure the blinders were standing properly to prevent him from using his peripheral vision, then tightened the straps so that it fit him properly.

“Oh yes. This is perfect,” I said as I took a step back.

Pony Atticus, a.k.a Midnight, gazed at me with adoration, blinking slowly as he agitated the rubber bit with his tongue.

There was a chest harness similar to the one Atticus had worn on our previous encounter, and leather arm bands with buckles. I fastened everything onto him, taking a moment here and there to stroke his soft skin.

“So pretty. What a pretty pony.”

He had to turn his head to look at me, since the blinders prevented him from seeing anything not directly in front of him.

So I went behind him.

“Fold your arms behind your back.”

I buckled the forearm cuffs together, liking what this did to his posture.

“Good pony,” I said, slapping his ass, hard, and eliciting a moan. “Let’s get you hitched.”

I took the leather reins that dangled from the bridle and brought Atticus closer to the board affixed to the wall. I tied them with a simple secure knot and had Atticus take a step back to make them taut.

“Now another,” I said.

In order to do that, he had to bend at the waist, because the reins kept his head where it was. This was perfect .

“Very good. I’ll give you breaks so it’s not so hard on your back, but I want this ass stuck out like it is.”

Midnight snorted, and I grinned. I’d had no idea that pet play could be so much fun, and it was my new favorite thing. But then, maybe that was Atticus.

I’d made sure to keep the crop hidden, but now that he had to face the wall and the blinders prevented him from seeing anything else, I picked it up and swatted it through the air a few times. Atticus’ muscles tensed at the sound—a sharp swish that he was probably familiar with.

I tapped the inside of his thigh with the leather tip.

“Good ponies need a crop used in just the right the way,” I murmured, tracing it along the tender skin to the top of his boot, then down the inside of his other leg. “Such a pretty pony, Midnight. And you’re mine.”

Midnight pulled at the reins, trying to turn his head.

I changed my position so that I was beside him, then wrapped the fingers of my free hand around his arching cock. He groaned as I gave it a few hard strokes and let go.

He whimpered. He couldn’t turn his head and he couldn’t see me because of the blinders.

“Mmm. That’s a very nice cock. A fine example of a dick and very fucking hard, which I like to see.”

I pressed the folded leather end against his sack and traced the crop along the underside of his cock, pleased to see a bubble of fluid grow and then drip over his glans. I caught it and dragged the now wet tip of the crop over his sensitive skin.

Atticus gasped.

Fuck, he was glorious. Muscles straining, body held in that uncomfortable position and subject to whatever I chose to do. I was in my glory as I teased my beautiful submissive, causing delightful sounds of frustration as Atticus’ cock twitched and bubbled over, again and again.

“Now for your punishment,” I said, giving my pony a playful tap on the outside of his thigh. Atticus groaned as his hands clenched into fists .

I laughed. “Oh yes. Naughty, naughty pony.”

I traced the poetic curve of his buttock and then brought the crop down hard against the dimple there. Yeah, he had fucking dimples in his buttocks when he clenched. I wanted to lick and kiss them. One day, I’d spackle his sweet ass with my spunk and watch it collect in those fucking dimples. But for now, this.

I started with moderate strikes that soon became stinging and hard. Atticus reacted beautifully. I watched his muscles clenched and imagined how huge that pony tail plug must feel. The horsehair tail quivered and shook as Atticus reacted to the punishment. A sheen of sweat coated his shoulders and lower back as he struggled to maintain composure.

I only went really hard for a few moments, savoring his cries and moans, then stopped and lowered my arm.

“Very good pony. Such a good pony. My beautiful Midnight,” I crooned as Atticus panted, chest rising and falling, his entire body flushed and his bottom a ruddy pink all over, with pale welts that would disappear by tonight.

He stomped his foot, and I chuckled.

“Too much?” I asked. It was a rhetorical question. He knew to use his safeword if he wanted me to stop.

Atticus gave a low groan. He was fine, only perhaps not thrilled about that kind of treatment, which was too fucking bad. Maybe he wouldn’t be late again, and I’d bet he’d be more careful not to come without my permission.

“I want you to remember this when you’re struggling to hold off from now on,” I said, giving his cock a few more strokes, then helping him forward so that he could straighten up and take the strain off his back.

I moved in close and kissed him on the cheek, smoothing my palm along his shoulder and down his back, then over his tender rump as he hissed.

“You are fucking beautiful, my Midnight. So incredible and perfect.”

I was free with my praise as I soothed him with soft strokes to his sweat damp skin. Once he’d calmed, I unbuckled the forearm cuffs and lowered his arms to his sides.

I kissed him on the corner of the mouth, where the bit stretched his lips, and whispered, “I want to fuck my pretty pony now.”

Atticus gave a low moan that trailed off in a pitiful plea. He was desperate for it and so was I.

“You will not come with my cock inside you. I have other plans, and I want to see you control yourself.”

He whimpered.

In all honesty, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if I saw that hands-free come-shot again, but I wanted to see if he could manage himself. The situation was win-win for me.

I dug out the condom I’d pocketed earlier and made a show of ripping the packet open and sheathing myself. He pulled against his reins again, but he still couldn’t see anything but the wall in front of him.

He huffed a breath and stomped his foot. I laughed. It seemed to be exactly what a horse would do if it were mad, but didn’t hate you enough to bite.

“Settle down, Midnight. And spread those legs for me.”

It sounded filthy coming out of my mouth, as if I were about to fuck a horse, when Atticus was so obviously human. I stripped off my clothes, stealing glances at the fine figure he made.

It was necessary to take that gorgeous tail out of him before I could fuck him, and you can believe I made a fucking show of it, rocking the plug and teasing him as I pulled the thing from his ass. I put the shiny plug aside, careful not to get the horsehair wet, and added more of the slippery liquid to Atticus’ glistening hole. His breaths came quick and with lovely little whimpers that made me eager to get on with it.

Spreading him with my thumbs, I pushed myself in, enjoying his long groan. I went deep into that silky embrace until my hips touched the heated skin of his ass. I had to close my eyes and focus for a moment.

Then Atticus made a pitiful sound and arched his back.

I wrapped my arms around him, sliding a hand up to his throat, splaying my fingers across it and whispering into his ear as I fucked him.

“Oh fuck yes, my pretty pony. So hot and beautiful and sexy.”

He was so fucking tight and hot, and my desire was inflamed from the games we played.

I fucked him mercilessly, delighting in the moans and groans and grunts I pulled from him, and the way he trembled under me. My breath scraped my lungs as I gasped, the force of my pleasure radiating to all parts of me as I held onto his hips to keep myself buried inside him.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” I said as the aftershocks ripped through me. “Don’t you dare fucking come,” I told him, just in case he was on the verge. “Hold back, Atticus, and I promise I’ll give you everything you desire.”

I leaned over and kissed his shoulder, then grabbed the base of the condom and pulled out, tying it off and throwing it onto the floor by my jeans.

“Luther. Please. Please,” he begged, his words garbled by the bit.

“Stay still. I’m putting the tail back in.”

Atticus whimpered, but he let me insert the pony tail plug again.

Now I unhitched the reins and told him to face me and lean back against the wall with his hands braced on it. Then I dropped to my knees and gazed up at him.

“This is your reward,” I said as I swallowed him to the hilt.

Atticus made a startled sound and shoved into my mouth as I went to town, excited to finally taste him. I made it messy, using my fingers to spread my saliva around.

I was getting hard again, delighting in the shape and taste of him, and his desperate sounds. I savoured every groan and tortured gasp. The horse-hair tail quivered behind his tense thighs.

I pulled off, only to say, “Come in my mouth.”

He gazed down at me with lips parted and eyes heavy-lidded, his face flushed and his curls sticking to his forehead under the leather bridle strap. The stiff blinders framed his beautiful gaze, and the tall black ears gave him a supernatural, god-like, persona .

I swallowed him down as far as I could, until he made a frantic sound and filled me with hot seed as I clasped his buttocks and moaned with delight.

He kept coming and coming, and it was a good thing I could hold my breath for a long time. When he pulled out of my mouth and fell to his knees, I took great, shuddering breaths to the pounding of my heart.

“Fuck, that was… Jesus Christ,” he said.

I could only smile, and then he was taking my mouth in a searing, grateful kiss that made me warm all over. Finally, he pulled back and gazed into my eyes with intense emotion.

“I’ll be your pony or your pup whenever you want, Luther. You’re so fucking good at this.”

I grinned and shook my head. “It’s you, Atticus. You bring it out of me.”

We watched each other for another long moment.

“Atticus, I realize that this is probably the wrong time to ask, but I want to take you out to dinner.”

He blinked. “Like…on a date?”

I sighed. “Exactly like that.”

“I…”

“I know we only hooked up for the pet play and to get off, but I think I want to get to know you more than this.” I waved my hand at the room and the hitching post. “Although it’s been fantastic, and maybe I should be happy with make-believe.”

He smiled, and it lit up his face like the sun.

Maybe there was such a thing as fate. And maybe I’d done something to convince the powers that be that I was worthy of something so wonderful, because everything worked out in a way I’d never expected.

By our fourth real date, he let me start calling him Kit, although I called him Atticus whenever we played. I asked him to be my boyfriend. He became my lover, as well as my pony, my puppy, and my beautiful slut, and I didn’t know what I’d ever do without him.

This short story takes place in the world of the Parlor Games series. Available at your favourite online retailer.