The Rules of Love Read online

  “Gentlemen, if you would permit, I think it would be a good idea for you all to hear what Francesco has to say.” Theodore had his arm wrapped protectively around the trembling man’s shoulders. “Go on, love. Tell them what you told me.”

  Francesco twisted his hands together, his head bowed. Saul knew the young man to be typically cheerful and energetic. He had also witnessed how hard Francesco worked at being the perfect submissive for the Master he so obviously idolized. His state of distress spoke of someone who had never been trained to honor their Master, yet Theodore’s expression showed no displeasure, only worry.

  Saul had a twinge of fear at what the young man might have to say. “Please, dear Francesco, you can speak freely to us. Listen to your Master.”

  With that, Francesco snapped his head up. “I do. I always listen to him. I promise.”

  “Go on then.”

  “I saw and heard something. I wasn’t trying. I promise that too.”

  “Francesco,” Theodore had a slight tone of warning to his voice. “You’ve been told to speak freely. Please do so.”

  He cleared his throat. “Okay. I had to use the restroom, but when I came around the corner, I saw Master Preston with Kenneth, his older submissive. Javier had already had to escort Linus out of the Club, and I could tell he’d been crying. He wouldn’t say why.”

  Aaron glanced at Saul. “Wasn’t Linus supposed to be with…?”

  Saul nodded, his gut clenching as he anticipated what else Francesco might be about to share.

  “Continue please.”

  “I hid behind the armor fellow in the hallway so they couldn’t see me.” Francesco bowed his head again. “I know it sounds sneaky, but it really wasn’t. Master Preston just scares me. That’s all.”

  Saul snorted. “Quite understandable, I’d say.”

  Francesco peeked up at him, his expression one of relief. He held Saul’s eyes as he continued with his story. “I wanted you to know that Kenneth’s lip was broken and bleeding and his cheeks were scarlet red, as if he’d been hit very hard.” Francesco swallowed noticeably. “And Master Preston was telling him that he could never leave, no matter what. That Kenneth was his forever and something about reminding him that his aunt would regret it if he ever tried anything.” Francesco still held Saul’s gaze. “I thought you should be the one to know that, Sir.”

  Theodore scowled at his boy. “You declined to share the last part with me. Whatever do you mean by that?”

  Francesco peered up at his Master, his eyes wide as if he were the absolute picture of innocence. Saul knew better, as he was sure every other man in the room did.

  “Oh, I thought Master Saul knew.”

  Theodore wiped a hand across his face before turning back to Francesco. “I’m afraid to ask, but now that you’ve taken it this far, I suppose then we must know. Just remember how red your ass will be later.”

  “Don’t you mean pink, Master?” He batted his eyelashes a few times.

  “Red, you little rascal. Most definitely red. Now carry on.”

  Francesco’s brow furrowed and he was working up to a good pout when Theodore cleared his throat. He immediately straightened and lightened his expression. “I’ve seen the way Kenneth watches you, Master Saul. He tries to be careful so that no one will notice, but he’s not clever enough to hide his admiration for you from me.”

  Theodore let out a sigh. “No. How could he when faced with such a nosy adversary?”

  Francesco had the sense to lower his gaze.

  As heat crawled up his neck, Saul marveled that a man of his age still had the capacity to blush. He couldn’t truthfully remember the last time such a thing had happened to him.

  “I see.”

  Saul sniffed then took a large swallow of the brandy he’d left on the desk before setting the glass back down. Unable to meet anyone’s eyes, he angled his body away so that his face was hidden from scrutiny. He was both stunned and enraged. Their board meeting couldn’t arrive soon enough, but he ached to go to Kenneth at that exact moment and rescue him from Preston in case the man really went off the tracks.

  He sensed someone near him and turned slightly to see who it was. Aaron placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “We’ll figure this out. Regardless of any other decisions that are made, I think we can all agree given this new bit of information that Kenneth’s safety is in question.”

  There was a murmur of agreement amongst the men.

  Saul pressed his lips together, still going over Francesco’s words in his mind. “We don’t know what Preston meant when he threatened Kenneth’s aunt.” He turned to Francesco. “Do you remember exactly what was said?”

  “No, Sir. Only what I told you already.” Francesco still had his gaze on the floor. “I’m sorry.”

  “There, there. I won’t presume to question your Master in regards to your behavior—and the consequences thereof—but I can say I’m grateful for everything you’ve told me this evening.” Saul coughed into his fist. “Told us, I mean.” He lifted his eyes to regard his fellow Dominants. “I think we need to find out what it is that Preston is holding over Kenneth’s head. I believe once we’ve solved that mystery and taken the threat away, we might discover that Kenneth is less inclined to stay with his so-called Master.”

  Aaron nodded. “Agreed. But how do we do that with Preston hovering over Kenneth all the time?”

  Saul let out a heavy sigh. “How do we indeed?”

  * * * *

  Ronald held him close, his warmth more soothing to him than any of the balms Ronald used on his skin after a good thrashing. Kenneth always yearned to be cradled in his care.

  “Tell me again, Master. Tell me how much you love me.”

  Kenneth snuggled against the hard planes of Ronald’s chest. His lover tightened his arms around Kenneth’s body, the strength in them amazing. Ronald didn’t speak, only squeezed. Soon, it became harder for Kenneth to take in air. He was being crushed. Panic took hold and he struggled against his Master’s deadly embrace, confused as to why the man who meant more to him than anyone would want to harm him.

  “He’s not your Master! I am!”

  Kenneth’s eyes flew open and he clawed at Preston’s hands that were wrapped around his throat.

  “Why? Why? You still call out to him when I’m right here! When will I ever be enough for you?”

  Kenneth choked and gasped for air, Preston no longer strangling him but still straddling his legs. He’d covered his face, his chest heaving in the aftermath of his attack on Kenneth. After climbing off him, Preston stumbled out of the bedroom of the large home they shared in Pasadena, not far from the Hampton Road Club. Without turning around, he called back to Kenneth before slamming the door shut. His words were somewhat slurred.

  “I’ll be back for you later. Maybe.”

  Once again, his broken lip had split open during their struggles. He also worried that the cuts on his back from Preston’s whipping the evening before might have reopened as well. Preston had allowed him a shower when they’d returned from the club, so he’d at least been able to wash the wounds so they wouldn’t get infected. The soap had stung badly, but it had been far from the worst pain he’d felt. Preston’s unusual generosity had extended to allowing Kenneth to sleep in the bedroom instead of the garden shed. He’d still been chained, but at least he’d been inside the house and relatively comfortable on the carpet at the foot of Preston’s bed.

  He was disoriented and trying to piece together what had happened to make Preston come after him the way he had. His thoughts went to the last time he’d been allowed to sleep in the bedroom with Preston, the last time before he’d been banished to the shed outside.

  ‘I’m so fucking sick of hearing about your dead Master.’

  Kenneth had been confused then as well.

  ‘But I never speak of him.’

  Preston had sneered as he’d spat out his words. ‘You do when you dream.’

  It fit together along with so
mething else that scratched at the corners of his mind. It was too bizarre to contemplate, but it would at least mean that Preston wasn’t completely evil and insane.

  Just partially.

  Preston loved him. He was jealous of Kenneth’s dead lover and was somehow punishing him over it. Kenneth had always assumed that Preston had taken other younger lovers because he’d tired of Kenneth, that he’d wanted someone new and better. The fact that Kenneth still hadn’t let him go hadn’t altered that presumption. He’d been certain that Preston had merely been reluctant to give up his property, as well as his housecleaner slave.

  But last night…

  There’d been the barest hint of something when Kenneth had lied about wanting him, missing him. There’d been hope in Preston’s eyes. Longing. That had been right before it had turned into a murderous rage.

  His stomach roiled and his head throbbed with the confusion of thoughts. Why had Preston treated him so badly over the years? Why had he stolen Kenneth’s submission rather than simply accepted it as a gift? It was difficult to pinpoint exactly when things had taken a bad turn, but he had to wonder if Preston’s own insecurities about Ronald had somehow driven him to be unusually cruel.

  Regardless of what had precipitated his actions, Preston was becoming more and more volatile. His drinking had also increased and Kenneth was sure his slave keeper was still soused from the previous night. And here he was chained to one leg of Preston’s bed with a full bladder and no sense of when Preston might return. Being left without food or water happened often enough that it no longer bothered him that much, but he was incredibly uncomfortable from the need to urinate.

  Eyeing the intricate wrought iron bed, he wondered if he would have enough strength to lift up one corner in order to slip the chain free. Then he would have to silently hoist the chain along with him, make it to the bathroom, piss then reattach himself without being discovered by Preston. If he knew where Preston was in the house, he might stand a chance.

  The loud gong of the front door echoed throughout the home and Kenneth froze. No one ever visited unless Preston had invited them, in which case, he would put on a big show. They would plan for the whole shindig for days in advance which typically involved Kenneth having to do five times as much work than usual. Whoever was downstairs had to be an unexpected visitor—that in and of itself would put Preston in an even fouler mood than he was already. He was not a man who enjoyed surprises of any kind.

  He heard voices, but they were muffled and too low for him to discern whose they were. It didn’t help that Preston had closed the door to the bedroom. Ignoring the pressure in his overly-full bladder, Kenneth lay on his side then pressed his ear to the floor. It did him no good. He was certain there was more than one visitor, but he had no idea who it could possibly be.

  He almost pissed himself when the bedroom door flew open. Preston’s eyes bulged and his face was contorted as if he was in some sort of physical pain. He advanced on Kenneth and he instinctively shrunk back, Preston’s recent attack on him still fresh.

  Preston grabbed him by his hair. “Must you always demonstrate how weak you are?” Preston shoved him away, but took out the key to undo the lock on Kenneth’s chain. He muttered to himself, something else Kenneth had noticed him do more of in recent weeks. “No Master can outdo me. None.” He snorted. “Why do they try? My boy can take the pain, the punishment. My boy. Not theirs. That’s because I make him take it. They’re too stupid to know what to do.”

  Dear Lord.

  As Preston fumbled with the lock then unwrapped the chain from around Kenneth’s ankles, he was certain that Preston had completely slipped into lunacy. He’d never been that confident in Preston’s sanity, but his current behavior showed that he was becoming even more unhinged.

  At last, his legs were freed. Preston grabbed his upper arm then yanked him to his feet. Kenneth wasn’t a small man and he had strength too. But not only did Preston match him in physicality, he also had the added adrenaline of whatever sickness poisoned his mind.

  “Hurry up and get dressed. We have visitors from the club.” Preston considered him. There was a fleeting glimpse of what Kenneth could swear was remorse in Preston’s eyes, but then it changed to disgust. “Try to make yourself look as presentable as possible. Two of the club’s board members are here. I think they might want me to run in the upcoming elections, so I need you to be my proper slave.” He got right into Kenneth’s face. “Don’t fuck this up for me, or you will regret it.”

  “Yes, Master. I understand.”

  “I doubt it, but what choice do I have?” Preston waved at him dismissively. “Get dressed. You’re wasting time. I need you downstairs immediately to wait on our guests.”

  Without another glance in his direction, Preston left the room. Kenneth was finally able to relieve himself before searching for some clothing that might suit him for waiting on guests. His hands trembled as he sifted through the contents of the small section of the closet he was allowed to use.

  Is it possible that Master Saul is downstairs right at this moment?

  He didn’t dare to hope, yet it wasn’t all that improbable. Preston had said the visitors were board members from the club, and Master Saul was most certainly on the board. It was difficult to imagine that the man he had so much respect for would be inquiring about Preston stepping into a more official role at the club. Was Preston’s act really that good? Or was the silver-haired man of his fantasies no different from his current abuser?

  He inwardly cringed at such a thought. The mistake he’d made by so eagerly giving himself to Preston had been one borne out of the grief over losing Ronald. Had he been thinking clearly, the signs would have been there—he was certain of it. He brushed his fingers across a white silk shirt he’d worn once before when Preston had entertained some of his university friends. He’d had to pretend he was Preston’s valet—his college chums were unaware that Preston was a lover of men.

  He reached for the shirt. As he stretched, it pulled open the welts on his back. Hissing, he let his hand drop. There would be blood. He would have to find something else more concealing to wear. Sweat broke out on his brow as his nervousness increased. Preston would do something horrible to him later if he took too long. He was also desperate to find out if Saul was one of the visitors and anxious to leave a good impression if he was.

  The black silk shirt had been for a formal gathering when they’d first joined the club. It would be perfect. He could wear it tucked into a pair of woolen trousers with suspenders. It would be adequate, as he wouldn’t be leaving the house, which would have required a jacket on top.

  The spring temperatures were rising at a rapid rate. Soon, the heat would be a constant for several months. Since Kenneth typically wore little or no clothing, it wasn’t that critical if he was to stain the shirt with his blood. But at least it wouldn’t be obvious to their guests that he’d been injured in any way.

  He glanced up at the dresser mirror as he pulled his pants on over his boxers.

  Except for the very obvious bruises on my cheeks and the large cut on my bottom lip.

  He didn’t dare say anything about them. It would be left to Preston to provide whatever explanation he might be able to dredge up. Then he could smile and nod amiably as if it was perfectly fine to have the crap beaten out of him because he was no longer in love with a man whose sadism ran contrary to what Kenneth had hoped for in a lover.

  Hmm. Better not smile.

  If he did, there would be blood all over again. Sighing heavily, he let it all out before he had to face the unknown downstairs. Once he’d slapped some pomade in his hair and combed it back, he made a cursory check to verify that nothing seemed out of place. Satisfied that it was the best he could hope for under the circumstances, he made his way to the living room below.

  Before he’d even rounded the corner to the main area, he heard the strong, confident tone of Master Saul. His heart accelerated at the knowledge that he would be in the same room with
the silver-haired man in mere seconds. As Kenneth entered from the hall, their eyes locked briefly before Kenneth lowered his gaze in respect.

  It was a struggle for Kenneth to control his rapid breathing, his nervousness. Had Preston seen the look they’d shared? In that brief moment, Kenneth had been reassured that Saul was nothing like Preston. The Master’s expression had been one of shock tinged with sadness. No matter what Preston said regarding Kenneth’s bruises, he knew Master Saul wouldn’t believe him. Just as he’d felt all along, Master Saul was a man who cared about others.

  If only he cared for me the way I do for him.

  Chapter Four

  It took all of Saul’s inner strength and willpower not to outwardly react to the beaten visage of Kenneth. Not only was his gut churning, but tears burned at the backs of his eyes. Saul never cried, but he could’ve wept for Kenneth.

  “At last my boy is here.”

  Preston had been regaling them with tales of all the men he’d dominated when he’d traveled to Berlin, how the Masters there had pleaded with him to share his tips with them on effective punishments for bad boys. Saul didn’t believe a word of Preston’s bravado. But in order to lull their prey along, both he and Aaron had nodded and feigned great interest in Preston’s jabbering.

  “I have the finest gin in town, gentlemen. Kenneth makes an outstanding Gin Rickey with the fresh limes we have growing in the yard. Shall I have him pour us a round?”

  “That sounds splendid. Aaron?”

  Saul raised his eyebrows at his cohort. They were desperate to stay in the house as long as possible. They’d had no idea what they’d face at Preston’s residence when they’d come up with their ruse, but they needed to figure out a way to get Kenneth alone, if even for a moment. The longer they had a reason to stay, the better their chances would be.

  “The best, you say? Then I would love to try one.”

  “Kenneth. Go fetch some limes, as well as the special gin for our honored guests.”