Owned Part Eight
By six o’clock all four band members lay asleep in a pile on Jon’s bed, gentle music still strumming in the background. Their security guy Zach was the one to discover the sight and he took a picture with his camera phone before gently waking the lads from their slumber and reminding them that they had a party to attend. Pete Wentz was holding a launch for Clandestine’s latest line and anyone who was anyone in the scene was going to be there.
Two hours later the four slightly groggy, still giggly boys were in the back of a cab on their way to the club where the launch was being held. Brendon was dressed in the obligatory skin-tight white shirt with a thin black tie that Ryan had picked out for him and Ryan was all in black, a band of navy make-up painted across both his eyes ninja style, and his hair just perfect.
Outside they posed in front of a sea of flashing cameras and Brendon could not help but grin foolishly when Ryan put his arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. Once inside they were greeted with champagne and shown to a booth. The music was already pumping and a cluster of people immediately surrounded them, most of whom they had never met before. Brendon and Ryan pulled faces at each other across the table when girl after girl approached either one of them and flirted outrageously, always slinking away unfulfilled when their advances were met only with friendly politeness.
An hour or so passed and the party loosened up. People stopped being so concerned with how they looked and who they were seen talking to and began to actually enjoy themselves. Pete put in a brief appearance at their table, climbing over the back of the couch the squeeze himself between Spencer and Ryan, his hand immediately finding Ryan’s knee as he launched into his usual monologue about what a beautiful boy-slash-girl Ryan was. Brendon tried not to notice but could not help the jealous glances that crept out of the corner of his eyes. He hated the way that Pete could draw those beautiful smiles so easily from Ryan’s lips and the way that, in the presence of his mentor, Ryan reverted to that shy coquettish behaviour that was simply no longer him. Spencer got up and headed to the bar, in what Brendon suspected to be the direction of a particularly pretty young boy; and Jon made his way on to the dancefloor to throw some shapes and generally fall drunkenly about the place, a gold plastic tiara nestled precariously in his hair.
This left the three of them sitting awkwardly on the couch and Brendon was about to make his excuses, unable to stand being third wheel to Pete and Ryan’s special friendship any longer, when Ryan reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out something black with a silver glint. Brendon sat horrified as Ryan showed the collar to Pete, whispering in his ear and giggling, pointing across the table at Brendon whose face had turned scarlet with shame.
How the fuck could he do this to me?
“Hey, Bren,” Ryan called across the table and Brendon’s eyes shot up, a look of pure terror and humiliation set in them. “Why don’t you put this on for us?” He tossed the collar across the table and Brendon’s hand jerked involuntarily upwards to catch it. He glared at Ryan for a moment, his mouth hanging open dumbly. Pete was watching his reaction closely, an amused smile playing on his lips.
Brendon looked from Pete to Ryan to Pete and back to Ryan, who nodded softly and stared even harder into Brendon’s eyes so that Brendon had that feeling of being hypnotised once again. He swallowed hard and kept his eyes locked firmly on Ryan, trusting him with all his heart. He reached up around his own neck and buckled the collar once again in place, moving his hands delicately back down to his lap and trying to keep his chin lowered as much as possible to hide the collar behind his shirt and tie, whilst maintaining eye contact with Ryan.
“Aww, come on now, Brendon, lift your head and show Pete how pretty it looks.” Ryan slid his arm around Pete’s shoulder as he said this and the two of them stared expectantly at the boy before them. Brendon closed his eyes tight and, with a look of extreme humiliation, lifted his chin to reveal the black leather band at his neck.
“Wow, you sure got him well trained Ross.” Commented Pete and Brendon cringed.
“I know. He’s adorable.”
Brendon heard laughter and then a whispered exchange that he couldn’t make out, before he heard Pete get up, kiss Ryan loudly on the lips and leave the two of them alone in the booth. Brendon did not open his eyes but he did lower his chin back down and press his back into the couch behind him, imagining what a pathetic sight he would look to anyone who cared to glance over. Despite the feelings of utter shame that churned his stomach, his cock was once again straining in his pants and he curled his fingers around each other wondering what else Ryan had in store for him.
“So adorable.” Ryan’s voice close to his ear, Ryan’s hand now pressing on his thigh, Ryan’s fingers undoing his tie and pulling it from around his neck. “Put your wrists together, baby.” Brendon slid his wrists forwards under the table and held them together, still not daring to open his eyes and risk seeing prying eyes watching this little game unfold.
Ryan deftly wrapped the tie twice around Brendon’s wrists before tying it off tightly in a double bow. His long fingers continued to tease and stroke Brendon’s thigh under the table and he leant in close, whispering obscenities into his lover’s ear.
“This is how I wish I could have you always Brendon, tied and submissive, confused and helpless…I love that you can’t even bear to open your eyes…all you can do is listen to my voice and put your trust in me…you look so ashamed do you know that? It’s pitiful really…” Brendon blushed deeper. “You’re so embarrassed and yet still there’s the matter of this…” Ryan’s hand moved upwards and wrapped itself around Brendon’s hard-on that pressed through the tight denim of his jeans. Brendon moaned and closed his eyes tighter still. “You can look as distressed and ashamed as you like Brendon Urie but this…” He squeezed gently to emphasise his point, “…this will always give you away.”
Brendon moaned again and leant towards where he could feel the heat from Ryan’s body, pressing his ear closer to those lips that continued to taunt him, pushing him further and further down that strange, scary road that he half loved and half feared. Ryan’s hand was moving rhythmically now under the table and Brendon’s hips began to writhe in time with it.
“There, you like that don’t you?”
Brendon moaned his affirmation.
“You like feeling my hand on your cock don’t you?”
“Fuck, yes Ryan.”
“Look at you squirming there like a little whore.”
“Uh…I’m sorry Ryan…I can’t help it…”
“Well try to help it or I will have to teach you some fucking manners.” Ryan’s voice sounded hard, almost cruel.
Brendon tensed all his muscles and did his best to remain still but Ryan’s hand only moved faster against him and Brendon’s need overtook his self-control. The hand was immediately withdrawn.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you Brendon.” And with that Ryan Ross got up and left.
* * * *
Brendon sat horror struck in the booth at a complete loss as to what he should do. At some point he was most certainly going to have to lift his eyelids and when he did he felt sure that there would be a dozen pairs of eyes judging him. He wiggled his wrists experimentally and found the tie unyielding. He wiggled his hips and tried to think about anything that would make his cock relax but it was no use. He was truly under Ryan’s control and Ryan was not even here.
The dilemma of whether or not to open his eyes was solved for Brendon by a beep from his mobile phone. Text message. His two hands moved in tandem towards his pocket and he opened his eyes, keeping them lowered, not wanting to acknowledge the publicity of his submission. He took out his phone and pressed SHOW.
Get up and leave through the exit by the bar. There is a door on the left. Go through it. There is a rug on the floor. Kneel.
Brendon did not hesitate. He rose from the couch, not making eye contact with anyone, and walked towards the bar, hands still bound in front of him, collar still in place. He thought he heard a couple of people call his name but he kept his eyes locked on the glowing EXIT side in front of him and fervently ignored them.
Through the exit, a door on the left. Through the door on the left, a rug on the floor. Dim lighting. Candles. Hard aggressive music playing quietly.
Brendon kneeled reverently, head bowed and waited. There was someone else in the room. He could sense them. He hoped it was Ryan.
“So it seems you can obey some orders.”
“Yes.”
“A bit of a slut back there weren’t you?”
“...” What does he want me to say?
“Weren’t you, Brendon?”
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes Ryan.”
“I told you I like you tied and submissive and confused and helpless. It turns me on when you’re obedient. You weren’t very obedient back there in the bar, were you Brendon?”
“…No.”
“So you admit it? You were bad?”
Brendon raised his chin and turned his head to try and identify where the voice was coming from.
“Ry…?”
Brendon was frightened. He found himself once again in unfamiliar territory. They had only just overcome the first hurdle of this bizarre relationship and now Ryan was pushing him further, refusing to even offer a gentle hand on his shoulder or an encouraging smile.
“You were bad Brendon. Weren’t you?”
“Ryan, you’re scaring me.”
“Good. I like you scared.”
Brendon gave up his submissive position and turned his whole body round, trying to force himself out of the spell and regain some control of the situation.
“Tut tut Brendon. I didn’t tell you to move.”
Ryan approached him and Brendon breathed a sigh of relief until he saw the look in Ryan’s eyes. They were cold and steely and they meant business.
“I. Didn’t. Tell. You. To. Move.”
They locked eyes and Brendon again found himself with a decision to make. To submit or not to submit, that was the question. He still felt, despite the look in Ryan’s eyes, that if he made a joke, cracked a grin, brushed over the intensity of the situation, that maybe they could just go back to being friends. Maybe even still hold each other sometimes at night. Or he could turn back around, bow his head and admit his fault.
“Sorry.” Said Brendon quietly, lowering his chin and sinking back down to his lowly position.
“That’s better.” Brendon thought he caught a glimpse of relief in Ryan’s tone. The voice was warmer. Not warm, but warmer.
“Now, answer the question. Did you, or did you not, behave like a slut back there in the bar?”
“Yes Ryan.” The answer was suddenly obvious.
“And I don’t want you to behave like a slut, do I?”
“No Ryan.”
“How do I want you to behave?”
“You want me to submit. You want me to be helpless…you want me to be good.”
“That’s right.”
Ryan’s was directly behind him now, stroking the top of his head with the palm of his hand. Brendon rolled his neck around on his shoulders and let himself go, knowing that whatever words were uttered forth from those beautiful lips, he would follow them blindly.
“Stand up and go to the wall.”
Brendon did so.
“Raise your arms and place them flat on the surface in front of you.”
Brendon did so.
Ryan moved behind him and reached his slender arms around the young boy’s waist, grasping at the buttons on Brendon’s jeans, yanking them easily undone. Brendon gasped. Ryan unceremoniously pulled the jeans down beyond Brendon’s hips, taking his underwear with them, exposing the boy’s plump pale butt to the room at large. Brendon inhaled deeply and pressed his palms into the wall in front of him. He heard the sound of Ryan’s belt being unbuckled and removed. He heard the sound of Ryan toying with the leather in his hands, folding the belt in two and throwing a few practise swings causing the air to whistle eerily around him. Brendon clenched his buttocks.
“I’m going to spank you now Brendon. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
Brendon couldn’t think of a time when he had been more aroused, more afraid, more confused and more desperate to please anyone in his life.
“Yes Ryan.” He whispered, his voice hoarse.
“Ask nicely.”
“Yes please Ryan.”
“Arch your back.”
“Yes Ryan.”
“Stick your butt out for me.”
“Yes Ryan.”
“Say please again.”
“Please…please…please.”
Ryan brought the leather strap down hard across both of Brendon’s taut buttocks, the loud ‘crack’ resounding around the empty room. Brendon grimaced but remained silent, his palms becoming fists but his hands remaining rigid on the wall before him.
“What do you say?” Asked Ryan, his face close to the back of Brendon’s neck.
“Thank you.”
And then Brendon smiled.
Ryan beat him sixteen more times. By the fourth Brendon was not able to remain silent and by the ninth he was sobbing, offering his heart and soul up to the merciless boy behind him. After seven more cruel blows Brendon’s shoulders were curved downwards, his forehead leaning against the wall, sweat running into his eyes, tears running down his face, the cheeks of his butt glowing red hot and Ryan’s gentle sweet arms wrapped protectively around his torso, Ryan’s lips showering soft tender kisses down on the top of his head.
“Thank you.” Whispered Brendon again.