Chapter 3

Eventually, the night of the dance arrived. The dance team was off for once so I actually got to wear a suit that didn't have sequins. Dad let me take the car so I picked up everybody: Sara, Beth, Lisa, Brandon and Beth's date, Chad — who I swear is the whitest guy I had ever seen anywhere ever. Then again, his name is 'Chad'.

All three of the girls wore red. Beth was ultra hot as always and Lisa managed to look angelic in the color of whores. Sara must have seen my fantasies and dressed accordingly. She was wearing red leather.

"Promise me that thing comes with a matching whip and you can have me."

She smiled slyly. "Yeah, I knew you'd like this."

"Oh baby, you have no idea."

Inside, Brandon did dance with Lisa and didn't embarrass himself. Beth danced with Chad once then dumped him because he had zero rhythm — which I coudda told her — and spent the rest of the night whining about the lack of decent high school guys — which, again, I coudda told her. Sara and I danced most of the night, which was cool. At the end of the evening, Chad left with someone else, so I drove all the girls to Beth's house. Before she went into the house, Beth leaned into my widow.

"Lisa and I were thinkin' 'bout havin' a little conversation tonight with Sara. What you think?"

I tried to act cool but my heart rate was audible. "Tell 'er what you want. You the Dom, now."

"Yeah, I am, aren't I?"

She swaggered into the house. Why in the fuck is she my cousin? I wondered as I watched that perfect ass sway.

I looked at Brandon. "Still wanna stay at my place?"

He looked out the passenger side window. "I'll go home if it's a problem."

"Hey, Brandy," I snap, "Grow uh pair. I asked if-n you wanna stay. Answer me."

He faced me then and for once met my eyes. His eyes were a beautiful soft brown color. He reminded me of a sparrow. Small, light, delicate. Flightily. He had no idea how much control he could have over me if he took it. "I'd like to stay with you, Alex."

A heartbeat went by. Two. I controlled the urge to jump his bones in the car and drove back to my house.

We spent maybe ten minutes chatting with my mother before she let us slip down to the basement and my newly converted room. Since Peter and I did most of the work ourselves, my parents never saw most of the 'personal touches' we added to the room. It's a good thing. I don't think they'd ever stop yelling if they saw any of it.

Brandon looked a little nervous when I turned on the light and the dominatrix poster at the head of my bed stared back at him. I gave him a couple minutes alone while I went to find clean towels.

"Bathroom's in there," I told him, "You can shower first if you want. Or in the mornin' if you rather."

"Alex." His voice was just above a whisper. "Are these things for me?" He was looking at my collar and cuffs on the dresser.

I picked them up and again admired the handwork; "These were made by hand for me in Thailand. I don't think they'd actually fit you. You can try 'em if you want." I held them loosely, not offering them to him but not taking them away either. He took the collar and caressed the inlaid pattern. He opened the snaps and fit it properly around my neck.

I didn't move but I know I popped more than a couple stitches in my pants. "You think you can take me?" I tried to sound truly menacing.

"I think if you were going to hurt me, you would have done so by now."

"An' why you think I can't hurt you now?"

He looked back at me, an expression of mixed calm and desire, "Will you?"

I reached out slowly and brushed a stray hair out of his eyes with my fingertips. For some reason, at just that moment, I realize that he was half Chinese — that's why the pretty face and delicate bone structure. I never did get hold of a Chinese boy the summer we spent in Asia. I grabbed his shirt collar, not quite a chokehold and pulled him to me. I could see in his eyes that he wanted this but I paused anyway.

"Maybe." I kissed him softly. I wanted to throw him on the floor and ride him 'til we both broke. "Is that what you want?" I kissed him softly again.

"I don't know." He whispered, trembling.

"Maybe you do what I tell you an' I won't have ta hurt you. How you feel 'bout that?"

"Ok." I let him go. My arm was getting tired anyway.

"Go shower." I told him. "I'll be in in uh minute."

I text messaged Peter fast when the bathroom door closed. "may have 2 dom. ok?" It felt like forever before a reply came back "up 2 u".

I took a deep breath and undressed, leaving the collar on the dresser. I hadn't tested it in water yet and I didn't want to ruin the leather. I was in good shape — hell, I was in great shape — so I wasn't worried about looking good naked. But I thought Brandon might be concerned.

I shouldn't have worried. He was under the shower spray, dripping wet and bare. His body was slender. Thinner than any girl — definitely missing most of the curves that make a girl interesting. But he wasn't scrawny. He was tautmostly; muscular and compact but with pecs and an ass, leaving me assured that when I bent him over, he wouldn't break.

I opened the shower stall and stepped in. He looked surprised then his eyes traveled over me. His expression told me less than his sudden huge erection did. I'd been sporting one for a while. "Wash me." I said. I tried to use Peter's command tone. Either it worked or that's what Brandon wanted to do anyway because he picked up the soap and the sponge and began lathering me up.

He did my torso, front and back completely before starting to put the sponge back where he found it. "Hey," I snapped, "You ain't done." He looked at me and I drank in his image again, hair dripping, body dripping, dick dripping and it was all I could do not to take him. He didn't want my dick in his face. I kissed him softly again and put my hand on his shoulder. I pushed gently — not forced, just suggested — then crossed my arms. He knelt in front of me, picked up the sponge and the soap and proceeded to clean my dirty parts. Only Peter's lessons in control kept me from shooting off as soon as he touched me. He gave me enough of a hand job to test that control. When I got near the edge, I stopped him and pulled him up.

"My turn." I took the soap and the sponge and washed him. I remembered doing this with Peter and Beth and tried to be both practical and sensual. I was shocked at how big he was; most of the Asian boys I met were on the small size but Brandon was almost black guy big. He was gonna make me feel it if I went that route. When my soap-covered hand finally touched his throbbing dick, he cried out sharply. I used the sponge to get a good lather going on him; he was moaning continuously as I repeatedly stroked his dick and balls. He was not expecting it when I squeezed his balls hard.

He screamed before I got my hand over his mouth to block the sound. "Shhhhh," I hissed in his ear, "relax." I went back to stroking him gently. No tolerance for pain — he damn near lost his boner but recovered it quickly enough when my fingers took the soap and cleaned his asshole real good. Soon, he was gasping and shaking, bracing himself between the wall and door in an effort not to collapse as he came all over my face. Which nearly did it for me but I managed to hold back.