Home Coming Read online

  Pain and Pleasure Book 1: Home Coming

  By Elizabeth Noble

  Published by JMS Books LLC

  Visit jms-books.com for more information.

  Copyright 2019 Elizabeth Noble

  ISBN 9781634869898

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  Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

  Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

  All rights reserved.

  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America.

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  I’d like to thank my betas Lisa and Ann for their help.

  This book is dedicated to everyone who enjoys a little bit of kink in their lives.

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  Pain and Pleasure Book 1: Home Coming

  By Elizabeth Noble

  Can’t be late. Can’t be late.

  Ian tried not to squirm against the almost too warm leather of his car seat. Taren, his husband and Master of five years, dictated the seats, and by extension Ian’s ass, always be kept warm. As far as Ian was concerned Taren was a superb Dom, and it was Ian’s opinion that mattered. Ian immensely enjoyed a certain brand of warming lube Taren purchased for special occasions. When Ian bought this car, complete with heated, leather seats, Taren came up with the idea to keep Ian’s rear constantly warm. Another sign to Ian that Taren was the perfect Dom for him.

  Be still. Can’t be late.

  The more Ian worried about arriving home late, the more he had the irresistible urge to move. Every shift of his weight over the extra warm seat caused the thin plug up his ass to poke at his prostate.

  He sucked down a yelp and concentrated on steady, even breaths in and out. Just as he thought he had everything under control his brain would betray him, and thoughts of what would happen if he was late getting home encroached on his too fragile calm. His already overly sensitive cock and prostate were sent right into overdrive.dpgroup.org

  With no traffic delays his drive home was twenty-five minutes. However, there were delays…again. Today was the third time this week he faced the prospect of getting home after five. Work hours were 7:30 A.M. to 4:00 P.M., with a forty-five-minute lunch always taken in his office in case Taren was in need of some stress relief.

  It’d been a long couple of weeks for both of them, and Ian was in need of some stress relief of his own.

  Today was the third day this week Taren hadn’t paid Ian a visit during lunch, which meant he’d likely be extra tense when he arrived home. Tonight, the rules would be strictly adhered to and Ian needed to be more attentive than usual. Ian’s skin tingled with anticipation.

  Forceful and dominant was the way Ian liked Taren, and anything Ian could do to keep Taren that way was fine by him.

  Ian cursed softly; the images playing through his mind made him squirm against the warm leather seat. His plug shifted and gave his most sensitive spot an insistent nudge. A shiver worked through Ian’s body. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and licked his lips. The car behind him honked, startling Ian into straightening up. He opened his eyes and glanced around. Traffic was moving again.

  A quick check of the clock and Ian felt a spark of relief he’d get home before the 5:00 P.M. deadline.

  He pulled up the driveway of the home he shared with Taren with four whole minutes to spare. At five, the doors to their house would need a special code along with a key to open them. Ian had one of the keys. Taren had the codes.

  Once the codes were activated Ian would be locked out until Taren arrived home or activated them remotely. There was an emergency override Ian could use, but only in the case of a real emergency.

  Proper attire was required by the time Taren arrived home. Ian wore the same ‘outfit’ every evening at home, nipple clamps and a cock and ball cage linked with a chain. If he’d been locked out, he’d have to strip in the garage. None of the clamps, cages or anything else Ian wore was kept in the garage. Double whammy. Not that Ian wasn’t late occasionally on purpose, but he wasn’t in the mood for that tonight, and it was a bit too chilly for Ian’s liking.

  Once Taren arrived home, he’d march Ian to the front door, naked. At least Ian wasn’t forced to wait on the front walk, naked for all the world to see. Their garage didn’t have comfortable chairs or even a warm swatch of carpet to wait out the forty-minutes or so before Taren’s normal home coming time.

  More times than not Ian would get a thrill from the prospect of being naked, vulnerable, on display, but not in front of his home in their nice, conservative, upper middle-class neighborhood. They were the only gay couple on their street—Ian preferred to not draw attention to them.

  Taren hadn’t grown up in this area and didn’t particularly give a shit about the neighbors. He also wasn’t the CEO of a large local, family business with parents in state government. Taren was an investigator with the state police, and most people didn’t mess with him. He understood Ian’s feelings on the matter and told him often in these matters he’d defer to Ian’s wishes. Humiliation had a time and place, and in front of their home wasn’t it.

  Ian parked the car and hit the button to close the garage door. He shoved out of the car, house key clutched in his right hand and hurried to the door leading into the house. Ian held his breath as he slipped the key into the lock. It was always possible the time his car’s clock displayed was different by a few minutes than the timer on the locks.

  “Yes!” Ian cheered to himself when the door handle turned easily and the door smoothly swung open.

  In the next instant he was inside the house, leaning against the door, relief blasting through him. It was only then Ian relaxed in earnest. He ran his hands though his hair, giving it a ruffle. His dark hair was longish with bangs that would brush across his forehead and along the top of his eyebrows when worn natural. Taren liked when Ian’s hair was a little shaggy. At work Ian wore it slicked back, once home he’d wash the product out and let it fall in layers. Ian liked the look, he felt mysterious and sexy.dp.gr

  Ian’s briefcase was stored in the front closet before he headed to the bedroom. There he stripped out of his suit, hung it up and dealt with what was dirty and needed to go into the laundry. A quick shower and he was ready to prepare for the evening.

  Their bedroom was originally two rooms, but they’d knocked a wall out to create the perfect play space. One end was a traditional bedroom—bed, dressers, night tables. What wasn’t traditional was their bed. It was fitted with restraints and a heavy duty, iron canopy style bedframe, sans a canopy with a few modifications, and capable of supporting Ian’s weight. Built-in drawers underneath stored a variety of spreader bars, cuffs, whips, gags and floggers, among other things. The cock cages, butt plugs, nipple clamps, sounding bars and a variety of lubes were in the top drawer of one of the dressers. On the other side of the room was housed an adjustable St. Andrew’s cross. Besid
e that was a floor to ceiling wardrobe with mirrored doors. Several of their ‘special’ outfits they’d wear to clubs hung inside.

  Would he be strapped to the cross, wriggling under Taren’s flogger? Or perhaps tied spread eagle on the bed begging for release while Taren teased him right to the edge but never let him tumble over? An electric wand, hot wax, ruined orgasms—none of them considered off limits by Ian.

  Ian’s belly tightened and his breath quickened.

  His phone chiming made him jump. “Sir,” was all Ian said.

  “Are you prepared for me?”

  “I’ve only been home a few minutes. I barely made it home before five, Sir,” Ian confessed, and Taren chuckled. Ian continued, “So, still working on it, Sir. I just got out of the shower.”

  “In that case I’ll enjoy prepping you myself. I’m about five minutes away. Get an ice pack and wait by the door for me.” Taren disconnected before Ian could respond.

  Ian smiled and shivered as he hurried to the kitchen. Taren was pleased, and that was the greatest thrill of all for Ian. The thin, leather strap still rested above Ian’s hips. It attached to another strap that hooked under his navel, went between his legs and tucked into his ass crack holding the butt plug he wore in place. The leather was well oiled, and waterproof. He could wear it in the shower, anywhere. The buckle keeping it cinched tight was held closed by a small padlock. Taren had the key. The lock, and strap didn’t come off unless Taren took it off. As with the door, Ian had a spare key in case of emergencies, but he’d never had cause to use that key. Ian’s cock wasn’t caged during the day, but tucked into a leather codpiece. That had come off during his shower, but that didn’t mean Ian was allowed to touch himself, even to wash.

  Any touching of himself was strictly regulated by Taren. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t felt his own fingers brush against his sensitized cock and balls while he showered, his cock wasn’t completely hard, but full enough. The hair between his legs, dark as that on top his head, was moist and curly. He used two fingers to reposition his cock, closing his eyes and taking a few seconds to appreciate the brief touch of his fingertips against the smooth skin covering his shaft. Swallowing slowly and licking his lips, Ian carefully cinched the codpiece into place. His touch was minimal, and this was the only time it was permitted. His fingertips were still moist and didn’t slide easily over the length of his cock. That slight bit of catch sent a tendril of excitement zinging through his groin.

  Ian knelt on the floor a few feet from the door, knees wide apart, causing his groin hair to alternately pull and tickle. The feelings were delightful mini bits of pleasure pain, hints of what was to come later. He shoved the ice pack down the codpiece and pressed it firmly to his groin, gasping and wheezing for a few seconds. His Master’s words told Ian he required Ian to be soft, and this was one sure way to accomplish that goal. Ian was nearly giddy with anticipation. A milking or over stimulation might be in Ian’s immediate future. Certainly, some sort of sounding bar was on the menu for tonight, otherwise Ian wouldn’t need to be completely limp when Taren arrived.

  He quivered, and not from the cold between his legs.

  There was a gentle hum accompanied by the gears that opened the garage door before Taren’s car coasted inside and the garage door shut again. Another shiver rippled through Ian when he heard Taren’s car door open and close. There were tiny beeps when Taren punched in the code on the keypad and opened the door to the house.

  Taren walked in carrying two paper bags. Judging from the aroma wafting around him at least one of those bags contained their dinner. Ian bit back a groan and allowed himself a smile when his Master’s gaze raked over him. Taren gave Ian a nod of approval, causing his heart to soar. Master was pleased.

  Take out containers were removed from one of the bags and the contents transferred into baking dishes, covered and placed in the oven. Taren set the dial to warm, then turned to face Ian. Watching Taren take off his jacket, then shoulder holster took Ian’s breath away every time. It was so fucking sexy. Muscle glided and rippled under Taren’s shirt; sinewy forearms were accented by rolled up sleeves. Taren wasn’t quite fifteen years older than Ian. Tall, broad and incredibly confident. Deep blue eyes, brown hair streaked with gray and enough stubble to give him a rugged look made Taren one of those men who got better looking with every passing year.

  Leaning back against the kitchen counter, Taren crossed his arms over his chest. “Did you make the arrangements I requested?” He asked.

  “Yes, Master. Two weeks, beginning day after tomorrow.”

  Taren drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “The day after tomorrow?”

  “I need to be in my office tomorrow to get a few projects in order, and workloads reassigned. There were some details I simply couldn’t arrange in less time, and a few that couldn’t be delegated, Master. It takes time. I’m sorry, Master. I won’t need the entire day and hope to be finished early in the afternoon.”

  Taren snorted. “There are days I think you go right up to the line of defiance without really inching over on purpose.”

  Ian glanced up for a few seconds then stared at the floor. “Never, Sir.” The corners of his mouth quirked up into a quick smile before he caught and corrected himself.

  Taren smirked. “Of course not,” he drawled. “Well, you’ll just have to wear some extras tomorrow.”

  Ian shivered again.

  Taren wagged the fingers of one hand, indicating Ian should stand. Taren was only a few inches taller than Ian, but he was considerably wider. He walked around and stood behind Ian, big hands on Ian’s waist just above his hips. Ian was lean enough—Taren’s hands almost circled his waist. Taren’s warm breath caressed Ian’s neck before he pressed his tongue to Ian’s skin and very slowly moved up to his ear.

  “Hmm…you look delightful,” Taren murmured then nipped at Ian’s earlobe. “And taste amazing.”

  Ian wanted nothing more than to lean back into Taren’s arms, press against his muscled chest and feel Taren’s heat envelop him. It didn’t matter how desperately Ian desired his Master’s arms around him, he wasn’t permitted to move without Taren’s permission.

  Taren ran two fingertips along Ian’s side, over his hips and across his belly. Ian shuddered and tried to swallow his moan, but he failed. Taren chuckled softly as he brushed his lips over Ian’s shoulders.

  His hand wandered down Ian’s body and around to cup his ass cheek, kneading softly. Ian canted his hips back a fraction, trying to get more contact with Taren.

  “Oh, I don’t think so, not yet,” Taren chuckled again and stepped away from Ian. He grabbed the second bag from the counter. “I stopped at one of our favorite stores today. I found an interesting little gizmo.”

  Ian’s gaze shifted for the briefest of seconds to the bag in his Master’s hand. When Taren cleared his throat, Ian stared down at the floor again.

  “My, my, you are just all sorts of rebellious tonight. Damn good thing we’re taking a trip. You need some retraining.”

  The mention of a trip combined with the word retraining had Ian’s heart pounding a little faster. He could only guess—hope—his Master was implying what Ian thought he was. Another shudder rippled through Ian and he made no effort to contain it.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” Taren said. He opened the bag and took out a lovely new cock cage with a sounding bar and prostate stimulator. “What I think you’ll like about this is what’s inside the rings.”

  Taren held the device so Ian could get a good look. The cage was stainless steel. It was made of four rings connected by one thin bar. The bar ended in a small loop meant to curl over Ian’s slit. A sounding bar could be slid through the loop and held in place, if desired. Ian very much desired. Another bar bent backwards. It had a ball on the end to apply constant external pressure to Ian’s prostate. That was the basic design of two other of Ian’s cock cages, with some minor variations.

  It was what lined the inside of the rings that piqued
Ian’s interest. If it weren’t for the ice pack pressed firmly against his dick he might have cum right then and there. The inner side of each shiny ring had small nubs that narrowed to points. They’d rub against Ian’s cock at all times, but if he became aroused the spikes would dig into his flesh. Sweet, exciting pain from the base of his dick to just under his crown.

  “You’ll be putting this on later.” Taren put the chastity device back into the bag. “We should eat first. I doubt we’ll have time for dinner later. I’ll set things up in the bedroom while you prepare dinner.”

  Ian nodded once. Main rule, don’t speak unless asked a question or given permission to converse. First the table was set, then Ian pulled the containers from the oven. Inhaling deeply, he closed his eyes for a few seconds, and enjoyed the aroma. Taren had brought home a meal from one of Ian’s favorite Indian restaurants. He filled a pitcher with ice water and added it to the table. Hydration was important.

  “I hope you’re hungry and that we can talk during dinner,” Taren said.

  “I’m famished,” Ian took the hint gladly.

  “I had an interesting day,” Taren said between bites of food. “How’s your dinner?”

  “It’s great, thank you. What happened?”

  “Do you remember that big accident last week?” Taren asked.

  Ian nodded, but was too busy chewing to say anything.

  “Well, turns out two of your high school buddies were in the car that caused the whole mess.”

  Ian’s eyebrows shot up. “Who? The car that fled the scene?”

  “The very one. He and his wife. They weren’t hurt, but I’m betting they were drunk, high, or both.”

  “Didn’t two people in the van they hit die?”

  Taren nodded. “They sure did. Anyway, their names are Jolene and Bob Ward.”

  “Oh, the couple who look like Ken and Barbie and belong on a cake?”

  Taren snorted. “Not any cake I’d have. They claimed to be very close to your family. I wanted to point out that it was funny I’d never met them, but I didn’t.”