A Master For Michael Read online

  Table of Contents

  Legal Page

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  New Excerpt

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

  A Master for Michael

  ISBN # 978-1-78651-628-2

  ©Copyright Morticia Knight 2017

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright August 2017

  Edited by Sue Meadows

  Pride Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Pride Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Pride Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2017 by Pride Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, UK

  Pride Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

  A Hampton Road Club Novella

  A MASTER FOR MICHAEL

  Morticia Knight

  Finding a Master for Michael won’t be easy, but Javier is determined that his boy will have the best—even if it means letting him go.

  The Hampton Road Club is a secret gathering-place for men of a more sadomasochistic nature. The 1920s might be roaring, but certain practices are still frowned upon in open society. Michael’s job is to greet the club members as they arrive and to report directly to the club manager, Javier. Sometimes, his direct contact with Javier has nothing to do with the club members and everything to do with submitting to the strict Master.

  Javier would give anything to keep Michael as his permanent boy, but he owes his boss, Saul, a great personal debt for helping him when he was at his lowest. Saul taught him that professionalism is the key to keeping things running smoothly at the club. He knows Saul would be greatly disappointed if he were to ever find out about what goes on between him and the club greeter behind closed doors. That’s why he’s never revealed to Michael how he really feels and why he must do the one thing for which he’d never thought he’d have the courage—give Michael away to a new Master.

  Dedication

  For those of you who wanted a little more.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

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

  Bakelite: Hexion Inc

  Chapter One

  “Michael? Master Archie will need to avail himself of the master suite on the third floor this evening. Police Chief O’Brien will be with him as usual, but he’ll also be using several of the unattached submissives and they’ll need the larger bed. So, if someone new comes to the club who needs to be photographed for our files, then we’ll be utilizing the demonstration room for that instead.”

  Michael glanced up from where he’d been taking his midday meal at the long oak table in the kitchen of the Hampton Road Club. “Yes, Sir.” His belly tightened at the sight of the tall and regal Javier, the sadomasochism club’s manager. Javier oversaw every detail as it pertained to the operation of the private gentlemen’s club in the tony San Marino town of Los Angeles.

  Michael was the establishment’s host and he adored his job. As staff members, he and Javier lived on the premises of the three-story Tudor Revival mansion as part of their remuneration. Even if the nineteen-twenties was much freer than any other generation before, they still needed to be discreet. As such, Javier’s job was incredibly important to the safety and wellbeing of everyone who belonged to or worked for the club. The men who pursued the particular acts of perversion that they all enjoyed could still be arrested if caught in flagrante.

  How fortunate we are to have Chief O’Brien as a member.

  Hampton Road had become a safe haven for those who wished to seek out the company of a compliant man for the evening, or, to bring his own submissive boy to demonstrate, show-off, share or play with in one of the many creatively appointed rooms in the elegant mansion.

  Michael wiped his mouth then placed the linen napkin on the plate that had held his meal. He rose from the bench, gathering it up along with his empty glass. As he walked briskly to the sink, he darted his eyes to Javier who leaned against the pantry, his arms crossed as he regarded Michael.

  “Was that all, Sir?”

  He swallowed hard. It was immediately apparent to him that he shouldn’t have questioned Javier. The expression he radiated back at Michael was one of displeasure. Michael still had so much to learn and Javier had been a strict teacher.

  So good.

  “Michael?”

  “Yes, Sir?”

  “Who is in charge of what goes on at Hampton Road?”

  “You are, Sir.”

  Javier stepped closer and Michael flinched. “Don’t be frightened, boy. Have I ever hurt you in a manner that you didn’t desire, didn’t beg for by your actions or words?”

  “No, Sir.” Michael inhaled on a stuttering breath. “You haven’t.”

  “Then you need to learn a lesson. I want you in my room ten minutes from now, naked, on your knees and with your head bowed. Be ready for me the way you know I like, and I wouldn’t be a second late, understand?”

  Michael held back a whimper as his breathing accelerated more. “Yes, Sir. I’ll be completely ready for you in every way.”

  Javier closed the distance between them, then held Michael’s chin with his thumb and forefinger. He gazed at Michael from his deep brown, heavily lashed eyes. “See that you are. You already have one punishment waiting as it is and I won’t be going easy on you.”

  Sweat beaded on Michael’s brow, his upper lip. Using his free hand, Javier held up the ornate brass key that unlocked his room then dropped it into the pocket of Michael’s jacket. He released his hold on Michael.

  “I suggest you get moving.”

  “Yes, Sir!”

  Michael rushed from the kitchen, remaining as dignified in manner as he could, then scurried up the stairs to Javier’s bedroom on the third floor. Only the staff and submissive men were allowed on the top floor of the mansion. There were separate rooms for the men who’d already been claimed or collared by a Master and another for those who remained available. Modifications had been made to one side of the third floor of the club in order to facilitate what was needed. Both the claimed and the unclaimed submissives’ rooms had been enlarged. Each group had what had once been three guest bedrooms turned into one large area for them to lounge in. The master suite on that same side was where Javier’s quarters were located. The remaining staff, including Michael, had their own regular-sized rooms on the opposite end of the floor.

  Michael approached Javier’s closed door. He plucked the brass key from his pocket that would unlock it, would allow him the opportunity to finally have some private time with his Master.

  Don’t think like that. You have no right. Not yet.

  His fingers
trembled as he slid the key into the lock.

  Maybe never.

  Michael swallowed past a lump in his throat, determined not to give into any foolish emotion. He would be on his best behavior for Javier. Easing the door open slowly, he checked to make sure Javier wasn’t already inside. He could’ve gone up the servant stairs. Michael wasn’t late—he’d been definite on that—but he never knew what to expect with the strict Master. An empty room greeted him. Michael glanced down at the key laying across his palm. Javier had given it to him in the kitchen so that he could let himself in.

  He shook his head, chuckling. He’d become so unnerved by it all, by the thrill of being alone with Javier for the first time in days—along with the anticipation over his punishment, and being entrusted with Javier’s personal key—that he hadn’t been thinking straight. If he held the key in his hand, how could Javier have already been inside?

  Michael swiped at his forehead with his handkerchief then stuffed it back into his jacket pocket. He approached the mahogany bureau then placed the key in an etched brass tray that sat atop the dresser’s surface the way Javier had instructed him. He spotted the time on the oval Bakelite clock, and was distressed to discover that less than five minutes remained before Javier would arrive.

  First, he shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto the curved bench at the end of the bed. His next action was to slide off his suspenders, not bothering to unbutton them from his pants—it would be quicker to undo his pants and let them fall away with his trousers. He fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, the idea that he would’ve worked so hard to have everything right for Javier only to fail at the last moment becoming almost too much to bear.

  At last, he was naked, but in his haste and fear, his shaft had gone soft. Javier strictly forbade him from touching himself, but he worried that it would be seen as an insult if he wasn’t fully erect when Javier entered the room, that it would indicate that Michael didn’t appreciate and adore the Master. He glanced around, sweating, wishing he still had the use of his handkerchief. His clothes were neatly laid out on the wing chair the way Javier preferred, and he’d readied the decorative brocade pillow on the middle of the Oriental carpet for him to kneel upon in the exact manner that Javier always requested.

  The doorknob clicked and he dropped onto the cushion. The moment Javier strolled into the bedroom, Michael had already clasped his hands behind his back, had his shoulders straight, chin up, but eyes cast down, his knees apart to showcase… My limp cock.

  “Hmm…”

  The deep timbre of Javier’s voice did nothing to assuage his nerves. The disapproval was clear. How bad would his punishment be? Would Javier never want to enjoy his favors or restrain and beat him again? Would he never allow Michael to serve and worship him from then on?

  “Please.” Michael choked out the word, terror clawing up his throat and making it hard to speak. “May I be permitted to explain?”

  “I think you should.”

  “I-I was hard. Very hard. Leaking even. But, I…”

  “Are you ill? You’re very pale.”

  Michael frowned. Did he look that bad? “No, Sir. Only afraid.”

  The gentle weight of Javier’s hand on his head instantly relaxed him. He let out a long slow breath and a portion of his tension eased.

  “Tell me, Michael. Tell me why you’re afraid. You must always come to me with your fears.”

  “Oh, I…I would never presume to bother you with my silly concerns.”

  Michael inhaled on a sharp breath as his head was yanked back by his hair. “Look at me, boy. Now.”

  Michael gazed up at Javier, allowed himself to drink in the beauty of Javier’s soulful eyes. Javier stared into him and it was as if Michael had been split open with nowhere to hide.

  “Nothing about you or your feelings is silly. I want to know every little thing about you and how you’re faring. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Sir.” Michael swallowed. “Very clear.”

  Was it true? Did Javier truly believe that Michael’s feelings were important? It was too crazy a notion to believe, but he didn’t have time to mull it over. Javier still held his hair in a tight grip and his severe expression alone demanded that Michael obey his every dictate. He shuddered from the thrill.

  After several long moments where Javier scrutinized him, he gave a slow nod.

  “Good.” He let go of Michael then straightened. “And let me reiterate that failure to keep me informed of both your physical and emotional wellbeing from now on is subject to severe punishment.” Javier inhaled deeply through his nose. “And I promise you that it won’t be one you enjoy. Now.” Javier shrugged off the formal jacket he wore as part of his ensemble at the club. “I’ll be showering. You’re to remain kneeling where you are, perfect position, and I want to see that cock hard and dripping when I return. We’ll speak more later after I’ve given you the reprimand that I know you crave.”

  Javier left the room and Michael stayed still, didn’t breathe. He would demonstrate perfect behavior for his Javier. Water filled his eyes.

  Not mine.

  How could he be so presumptuous? Besides the obvious fact that Javier was a sophisticated man, held a prestigious position at an elegant club—Michael was from a poverty-filled, uneducated background. His parents had abandoned him when he was twelve, after which he’d stayed with his uncle’s family. But they’d hated and mistreated him—he had been a burden to their already large brood. By the time he’d turned sixteen, it had reached the point where he was practically their slave in order for him to have a roof over his head and whatever leftover food they would allow him.

  So, he’d run away from the small Oklahoma town, taking menial labor jobs and working his way across country until he’d landed in Los Angeles. When Javier had come across him, he’d reached the age of twenty-three and had just been fired from his job as a dishwasher for accidentally breaking a dish. He’d been down to his last few cents, his former employer keeping the weekly pay he would’ve received at the end of his shift to supposedly cover the cost of the plate.

  He wasn’t sure what had made Javier approach him that day where he’d sat slumped on a bench in Echo Park, but when Michael had gazed into the deep brown eyes of Javier, he had been immediately lost to him. Javier was tall and lean, held his body in a regal manner, his voice refined and assured. His skin was an inviting color, the hue reminding him of a dark amber stone his aunt had always worn around her neck as part of an elaborate pendant. He would’ve done anything Javier asked of him from the very first moment of their acquaintance.

  After Javier had inquired of him what his troubles were, Michael had surprised himself by opening up to the man and baring his soul. The only thing worse in Michael’s world, other than the struggle to survive, had been his crushing loneliness. After his awful tale had been told, he was certain that the beautiful—and obviously well-to-do man—would wish him well then walk out of his life forever. Instead, he’d offered him employment. Michael had been living and working at Hampton Road ever since.

  The best year and a half of my life.

  But the final reason he knew he wasn’t the sole focus of Javier’s attention was that he’d never been invited to stay in Javier’s bed for the night. It was clear that Javier must dally with whichever available man he took a shine to, but occasionally he took on Michael when no other submissive was available. There were plenty of hours when the club was closed that Javier had been nowhere to be found. Michael hadn’t been brazen enough to knock on his closed door to see if he was there, or to ask one of the staff if they knew whether he’d gone out for the day.

  Michael didn’t know what sort of lover Javier preferred, but it obviously wasn’t someone like him. Javier had never fucked him, held him close nor kissed him. He’d demanded many perversions of him—which Michael had happily provided—but there was an invisible barrier that had never been crossed between them. It was the one that would show Michael that Javier cared for him beyond the new li
fe and training he’d been offered as well as the occasional sexual release.

  His dick remained annoyingly soft, his melancholy musings doing nothing to perk him up. Screwing his eyes shut, he brought to mind the last time he and Javier had been together. He didn’t always touch Michael sexually, but the previous Sunday… He sighed. It had been exquisite.

  Javier had bound him as he lay on his back, his legs pulled all the way up, knees bent, his hole lewdly exposed. His arms had been on the outside of his thighs, wrists tied to his ankles. It had placed his knees almost to his ears and kept him securely in the restrictive position. Javier had completed his imprisonment by wrapping copious amounts of jute rope around his limbs until Michael was secured and unable to move in the slightest.

  Javier had made him fly. Michael had decried the fact that his joints would eventually feel the strain, that he couldn’t remain trapped for very long without the sensation turning from thrilling to uncomfortable. He was fortunate that Javier understood the limitations of time, so he hadn’t wasted it. Once Michael was bound, Javier had slicked him up, after which he’d been impaled with one of the many stone phalluses that Javier kept in his private collection.

  The object had been thick and long, bigger than any Javier had used on him before. He’d soothed Michael, whispered words of encouragement as he’d worked the dildo into his body. Javier had caressed his bare ass with gentle touches, praise falling from his lips once Michael had taken the fake dick as far as it would go inside his passage.

  His cock swelled, the memory bringing a flush to his skin, the moment when Javier had forced a climax from him almost making him come in the present. His eyes flew open, and his crisis was averted. He took slow, deep breaths the way Javier had taught him. A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. He’d done it. He was erect with beads of early spend on the tip of his rigid column of flesh, one fine string beginning to trail off the end.