BY HIS RULES
J. A. Rock
www.loose-id.com
By His Rules
Copyright © January 2012 by J. A. Rock
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original
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eISBN 978-1-61118-766-3
Editor: Christine Pacheco
Cover Artist: April Martinez
Printed in the United States of America
Published by
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This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be
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names, characters, places and incidents are either the
product of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, business establishments, events, or
locales is entirely coincidental.
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Dedication
For Michelle and John
Chapter One
“Then Daddy’d take your shorts down, put you
over his knee, and give you a good old-fashioned
spanking. You’d listen to Daddy then, wouldn’t you?”
“Mmm. Yes, Sir.” Aiden Cole tried to signal the
bartender for another gin and soda, making it too
obvious he was only half listening to Daddy.
He’d seen Daddy around here before and had
always felt privately grateful that the heavyset, bearded
top never approached him—until tonight.
The last ten minutes had confirmed Aiden’s
suspicion that Daddy was not particularly interesting or
arousing. Still, Obey didn’t hold many prospects on a
Monday night, and Aiden didn’t want to cast off the
possibility of spending tonight in short pants, squalling
theatrically while Daddy blistered his ass with what was
—Aiden had to admit—an impressively meaty palm.
Daddy-boy play freaked Aiden out a little. He’d
done two schoolboy scenes last week, but this little-boy
shit was a different ball game. Daddy was talking as
though he might require some thumb-sucking of Aiden
—not the kind of sucking Aiden liked to do.
Still, Aiden prided himself on his willingness to try
just about any scene. He had hard limits—blood,
needles, scat, rape—but one thing he loved about BDSM
play was the opportunity to take on new characters.
Naughty Boy Scout, palace slave, trembling virgin, high-
school slut… Aiden had played them all. It wasn’t exactly
the acting career he’d had in mind when he graduated
with honors from State University’s theater program last
year. He’d expected to be in New York or Chicago by
now, and he would be if he’d had the money. Aiden tried
not to let it get him down. He knew a lot of people who
took a gap year after graduation to travel, explore, and
career. Aiden planned to spend this year discovering
what he truly wanted.
He glanced around the bar. A man sat alone at a
table in the corner. Surprisingly handsome—how had
Aiden missed him before? He was in his thirties, with
thick, light brown hair, wire-framed glasses, and eyes
that, even from a distance, suggested warmth and good
humor. His nose was perfectly straight, his lips full and
his jaw smooth and well-defined. Juxtaposed with this
almost delicate beauty was a firm masculinity. He didn’t
look like someone you’d want to tangle with. Aiden
could imagine those eyes going from warm to—not
cruel, not angry, but distinctly disapproving. Aiden got
the sense that a disapproving look was all this man
needed to cow an opponent.
The man caught Aiden’s eye and smiled briefly.
The smile wasn’t an invitation—the man quickly turned
back to the notebook he’d been writing in. Who writes in a
leather bar? Aiden watched him take a sip of his drink.
Something clear. Vodka? Gin? Water?
Aiden was so intrigued and exasperated by the
man’s eccentricity that he almost wanted to sit down
across from him and start flirting up a storm, force the
man to stop writing. Buy him a whiskey. Get him buzzed
and hard…
“Out of your league,” Daddy said.
Aiden whirled. “What are you talking about?”
“Keaton Hughes. He’s out of your league.”
Aiden laughed. “No one’s out of my league.”
“All right, true enough. But if anyone was, it’d be
Keaton.”
“He’s not that hot.”
“Hot don’t make the top, honey.” Daddy gestured
to his own short, fleshy body. “Case in point. No, it’s not
his looks—though he is quite striking. It’s something
else. He’s not your typical top. Seen him in here once or
twice. Never takes anyone home. Never plays in the
basement.”
“But you’ve met him?” For the first time that
evening, Aiden was interested in what Daddy had to say.
“Yeah, nice guy. I’m just not sure what he wants.
Maybe he’s not sure either. Maybe that’s why he’s here.”
Keaton didn’t look like a man who was unsure
about anything. He was still writing in his notebook. He
looked up, and his gaze caught Aiden’s once more, for
just a second. The faintest smile appeared on his face as
he returned to his writing.
Aiden stood. Whatever Keaton Hughes wanted,
Aiden could give him. “Excuse me,” he said to Daddy.
He’d barely taken a step toward the corner when he felt
the energy shift in the club. He turned and saw
something that made his heart wobble and collapse.
Scott Runge.
In full regalia—black chaps, thick leather straps
cro
ssing his broad chest at the gleaming steel ring
between his perfect pecs. He wore thick-soled boots that
Aiden knew he made his subs polish with their tongues,
and kept a quirt tucked casually in his waistband.
Aiden’s ass clenched at the memory of how much that
thing stung. Even Aiden, renowned in the leather
community for his ability to give head, hadn’t lived up
to Scott’s demands when they’d played in Obey’s
basement dungeon last month. Scott hadn’t hesitated to
pop Aiden’s ass with that quirt whenever he was
dissatisfied with Aiden’s performance.
Aiden forgot everything, even Keaton Hughes. He
crossed the room as though pulled by a giant magnet,
eyes down, until he stood inches from the enormous pair
of boots. He watched Scott’s weight shift from one foot to
the other, and he swallowed. He willed himself not to
look Scott in the eye.
Difficult, since Scott had gorgeous eyes—electric
blue, holding a promise of excitement and danger. Aiden
shivered at the memory of the first time he’d failed to
obey an order from Scott, and Scott had said in a quiet,
deadly voice, “Look at me.” Aiden had somehow forced
his gaze to meet Scott’s and, in an instant, saw the pleasure
Scott took from being in control, from seeing Aiden
You didn’t look Scott Runge in the eye unless you
were ordered to. And if you were ordered to, it was
pretty much a guarantee you were in trouble.
“Hello, Sir,” Aiden said softly, not sure if Scott
would hear him over the music.
There was no reply, and Aiden thought for sure
Scott hadn’t heard him or was purposely ignoring him.
Suddenly a large, warm hand closed over the back of
Aiden’s neck. Fingers threaded through his hair.
“What a pretty boy.” Scott’s voice rumbled. He
tilted Aiden’s chin up. “I remember you. You’re the one
who can’t suck cock worth a damn.”
Hot fury rose in Aiden. Scott would be hard-
pressed to find a top here who agreed with him. Aiden
prided himself on his ability to suck dick, and it
devastated him that Scott Runge, of all people, didn’t
appreciate his talents. “Yes, Sir,” he murmured.
“Back for round two, huh?”
How the taunt in Scott’s voice could seem so
alluring was beyond Aiden.
“Think you can please me this time?”
“I’d like to try, Sir,” Aiden said, lowering his head
again, aware of Scott’s fingers still in his hair.
Scott yanked, and Aiden gasped. His head shot up,
and he saw that more than a few people were watching.
He wondered fleetingly if Keaton Hughes was among
the spectators.
“What do you think, boys?” Scott asked the crowd.
“Think I should give this pretty kid one more chance to
please me?”
Agreeable laughter and light applause met his
question. Someone yelled, “Do it right here!”
The grip on Aiden’s hair was too tight to allow any
movement.
“What do you think, boy?” Scott growled in his ear.
“You coming home with me tonight?”
“Yes, Sir,” Aiden said. It was nothing like the
vague, obligatory “yes, Sir” he’d given Daddy moments
ago. He meant this one with everything in him.
The crowd parted to let them through. Scott steered
Aiden by the hair, stopping at the coat check to put on a
long jacket. It physically hurt Aiden to see the leather
straps of Scott’s harness disappear under the coat.
Outside of the club, the night air was cool and
soothed some of the heat from Aiden’s cheeks and groin.
Scott eased his grip on Aiden’s hair, probably afraid
some vanilla would see them and call the cops. He
guided Aiden across the street to the parking lot with a
hand on Aiden’s neck. Aiden half wanted to stop
walking and just lean into that touch.
“I don’t know what I want to do to you first,” Scott
remarked casually. “Fuck you or beat you.” He hit a
button on his key chain and his car blinked to life. Scott
opened the passenger door and shoved Aiden inside.
“You’ve got a great ass. I remember that. I can’t wait to
turn it red.”
Aiden’s breath caught. Black and blue was more
like it, if their last session was anything to go by. Scott
was rough, rougher than any top Aiden had ever played
with. But that was part of Scott’s allure. The rush of fear
the man inspired went straight to Aiden’s groin.
They drove for a few minutes in silence. Aiden
noted how empty the streets were, how agonizing it was
to wait at red lights when there was no one else at the
intersection. Red lights. Everything was red. Scott’s car,
the industrial haze of the night sky, Aiden’s cheeks as he
thought about what lay in store…
Scott said, “I suppose I could tie you up, arms
above your head, and make you drink a fuck ton of
water. Then you’d have to hold your piss while I fucked
you raw.”
Aiden gulped. He already had to go—bad. And if
Scott made him drink water…
“What do you think, boy?” Scott demanded.
“Um, I—whatever would please you, Sir.”
“You don’t have an opinion on holding your piss
while I fuck you?”
“I, um—no, Sir.” What was up with all the um-ing?
Pull it together, Cole.
“If you went in your pants, know what I’d do? I’d
make you take those pants off and put them over your
head, so you couldn’t breathe anything but your own
filth. Then I’d bend you over the bed and take my belt to
your wet little ass until you squealed.”
God. Foul as the image was, it brought his cock
shooting up, making him even more painfully aware of
his full bladder.
“What do you think of that? I’d probably whack
your little dick a couple of times too.”
Aiden couldn’t help himself. He moaned, running a
hand over the front of his pants.
Scott glanced at him. “Touch yourself, slut. Go on.
I’m watching.”
When Aiden hesitated, Scott reached over and
placed a hand on his thigh. Aiden let out a shuddering
breath as the warm weight of Scott’s hand traveled
slowly up, finally passing over the bulge in the front of
his jeans. Scott’s fingers played with the bulge, wiggling
it like a loose tooth. Aiden tipped his head back, arched
his back, and jutted his pelvis forward to give Scott
easier access.
Suddenly Scott smacked the inside of Aiden’s thigh
with the back of his hand. Aiden yelped and started to
clamp his legs shut, but Scott grabbed his knee and
thrust it to the side, forcing his legs open again.
The car swerved, and Scott straightened it out again
one-handed. He whacked the inside of Aiden’s other
thigh. “I said touch yourself.�
� Scott alternated smacks on
Aiden’s inner thighs, his hand coming dangerously close
to Aiden’s crotch as Aiden fought to keep his legs open.
Aiden began to whimper in time with the blows, jerking
and rolling in his seat as he tried to get Scott’s hand to
graze his cock or balls.
Scott laughed. “Oh, we’re gonna have fun tonight.”
Aiden rubbed himself through his jeans, the sting
from Scott’s slaps still crawling up and down his thighs.
He put his head back on the seat rest and tried to stretch
his legs out. He had to piss bad, and the sensation of
being full and desperate was turning him on. Fuck,
everything was turning him on right now.
“Jerk yourself, slut,” Scott ordered.
Arousal ripped through Aiden at the sharpness of
Scott’s voice, at the word “slut,” and he tried his best to
tug his dick through the denim.
“Stop,” Scott said as they pulled into the driveway
of a one-story, brown brick house. “You won’t touch
yourself again tonight without my permission. Is that
clear?”
“Yes, Sir.” Aiden tried to hide his frustration. He
would give anything to keep touching himself right now.
Or better yet, to have Scott touch him…
Scott got out. Aiden reached for his door handle
and stopped. Scott was probably one of those tops who
didn’t want a sub to do anything without permission.
Scott came around and opened Aiden’s door. He reached
in and grabbed Aiden’s right nipple through his tight
gray tee. Aiden bit back a cry as Scott pulled him out of
the car and led him by his tit up the driveway and onto
the front porch, where he took hold of both of Aiden’s
nipples, rolling and squeezing them. Aiden closed his
eyes.
“You like that? You’re into pain, I remember. A
little pain slut.”
Aiden tolerated pain better than a lot of subs he
knew, but it was the mindfuck he was really into. And
Scott knew how to mess with a sub’s mind as well as his
body, knew ways of establishing unequivocal control
that no sub would dare doubt or resist.
“Mmn.” His tits hurt like nothing else, and his heart
butted up against his chest.
Scott released him to unlock the door, then sent
Aiden into the dark hallway with a swat to his rear. Scott
turned on the light. The house was clean and tidy.
Framed photos on the wall depicted decidedly
nondeviant scenes—a barn covered in snow, a