The Brownstone: Michael

(Authors Note: This is the 7th installment in the Brownstone series. In reading order they are: Michael Ch01,02 Charles Ch01,02,03 Michael Ch03.

Teaser alert...Cecil was not one of the three men this story is about. The third generation man, Scott (the best is yet to come!) will be introduced soon...)

Winter break came. I stayed in Boston for lack of any other place to be. I didn't have any family left and there was no one in Iowa I cared to visit. Up until Winter break I had kept myself busy with school and sports and only let Charles creep into my head when I slept, but during the break with nothing to do the days passed slowly. Christmas came and went and New Years was two days away. Mainly I stayed in my room sleeping or ate whenever I could drag myself out of bed but mostly just sat in silence thinking about Charles wondering why I had run so hard and so fast.

"Hey Layton," The monotone voice of the security guard on duty blared over the PA system in the hallway, "you have a phone call." The dorm phones were shut down during the holiday and forwarded to security. I was one of only four guys still in residence.

I couldn't imagine who would be calling me. Throwing on a pair of shorts I ran downstairs and picked up the phone.

"Hello." There was dead silence on the phone. "Hello" I said again. I shrugged to the guard.

"I'm sorry...I just wanted to hear your voice again." Charles said.

"It's okay." I said softly trying to move away for some privacy from the prying ears. "How are you?"

Silence again.

"Charles?"

"Can we try again Michael? I promise I will try harder to respect your feelings."

"Charles..."

"No...it's okay...I understand..." he said in a resigned tone.

"No. It's not that..." I couldn't talk, I didn't want anyone to hear our conversation. "Where are you?"

Silence.

"Where are you Charles?"

"If I tell you I'm in the parking lot you are going to be angry with me..."

"Let me put some clothes on. I'll be out in a few minutes." I said hanging up the phone.

Charles was alone in his Mercedes when I silently slipped into the passenger seat. The windows were steamed up leading me to believe he had been sitting in the parking lot for quite awhile. He was dressed the most casually I had ever seen him in jeans and a sweater, but it didn't matter what he wore he was still the most beautiful man I had ever seen.

"You look tired." I said touching his shoulder. I needed to touch him, I had missed him so much I needed even the slightest connection with him.

"I haven't slept very well the last few weeks." He said staring straight ahead. Why wouldn't he look at me?

"Charles..." I started to say but he cut me off.

"I knew Cecil for four years and was his submissive for a year before we realized that we truly cared for each other...it was our own fucking male testosterone driven stubbornness that kept us from saying how we truly felt about each other. It was easier to say I admired Cecil than to say...I...fuck...and I still can't say it. The words are in my fucking head and I can't get them to come out of my mouth. Damn..." he was so exasperated that it almost looked like he was panicking. "It took his damn death for him to say it to me and even now I can't..."

"I'm sorry Charles." I said. I wanted to pull him into my arms and hold him tightly to me...I knew I would never let this man go again.

"I need you Michael." He said turning to me. I looked at him and saw for the first time that he was crying.

"It's okay...I need you too Charles." I said pulling him to me. He cradled my face in his oversize hands and gazed into my eyes. He didn't need to tell me how he felt, I could see it. I leaned into him and touched my lips to his. A small moan escaped from his lips giving me the opening I needed...and we were lost in each other.

***********

Charles rented a far too big house near campus and spent as much time as he could in Boston until school ended in May. In the fall I started my junior year at Georgetown and bid farewell to my jock days.

It was also time for confessions and Charles decided he had hid his life from Mary long enough. When I moved to Washington he didn't want to have to lie to Mary as to why I was living in their house. We had both agreed that for business reasons we would 'stay in the closest' so to speak but he wanted a life with me and never wanted us to be apart again. He also wanted Mary to have the option of opting out of the marriage if she wanted to but Mary was that one special rare woman and she surprised us both when she welcomed me with open arms and for a few wonderful years we all lived happily together.

With Charles' aid I was lucky enough to join the ranks of the employed with a full internship at Cecil & Company, which miraculously covered my yearly tuition. It really was a no brainer. Charles knew I was a business major, what better way to learn about business then working for his company. Seeing him in action, being involved in the day-to-day business Charles' words he said to that weekend in Cape Cod echoed in my head, he said that he saw a lot of him in me and even though I didn't understand it then I came to find out just how right he was.

Over the summer I quietly watched Charles conduct business. I took copious notes, both mentally and written. When he finally assigned me to one the smaller accounts I took to the business at C&C just like he had, growing the smaller company into a major force within its own industry. I realized that just like he had I was intent on bringing my veracity to the business with new ideas that would grow the company even larger and better.

Over breakfast before my first day back to school Charles pushed a small box towards me. "I bought this for you the morning after we met in New York but things didn't work out that night or the weekend in Cape Cod for me to give it to you.

"Cecil had these rules that he lived by...I always called them Cecil's ISM's, I've introduced you to two of the three ISM's, clothing and appearance... his third ISM dealt with time. He felt that a man who wore a cheap watch didn't value time and it would slip through his fingers. But a man that wore a high-quality watch, that would last forever, cherished time and would make every moment count. More than anything I've ever wanted in my life Michael I want time to count for both of us ..."

I opened the box and there nestled in white satin was a solid gold Cartier watch mirroring the one that Charles wore. Humbled by his gift, outrageous as it was, I thanked him and put the watch on.

After that it became our tradition on every Thanksgiving to gift each other with high quality, expensive watches.

************

Charles was in New York on business the day I had to rush Mary to the emergency room. Two and a half years had passed, my undergraduate days were over and I had started working on my Masters degree.

Since the first day we had met Mary had always been frail but when she started having problems breathing I rushed her to the hospital. Charles flew back to Washington within three hours and together we started looking for specialists around the country to help her. It took three months, trips in and out of the hospital, for us to finally get the devastating news – Mary was suffering from ALS and the disease was consuming her at an alarming rate.

It was of no consolation to all of us that loved her that she went quickly but I saw it in Charles' eyes that he was grateful that she didn't have to suffer any more than she already had. We buried our beloved Mary, whom I had come to love probably as much as Charles did, next to her parents in New York and knew that we would be eternally lonely without her.

"For so many years she was my best friend...my only friend..." he said while we sat graveside after the funeral. "She's at peace now and with the people she loved most in the world."

After Mary died Charles withdrew from the social scene all together. There were only three things he concerned himself with in his life, me, business and sex – and not always necessarily in that order. I was always able to provide him with the vanilla sex he craved and our sex life never suffered, but there was always that part of him that needed the satisfaction he got from dominating a submissive.

Because business dictated Charles spent a great deal of time in New York and lived in his private quarters on the top floor of the brownstone. I too spent time there and although I didn't partake in the brownstone 'activities' I did socialize with some of the Masters and wondered around quietly educating myself.

During my breaks, especially the summer when I wasn't in school we stayed in New York full time. He truly was happier in New York and I could see subtle changes in him when we were there. He was more relaxed and seemed to be smiling and laughing more. We stayed in most of the time but ventured out to dinner and shows occasionally. Somewhere along the way we started this silly game to see where we could find the most publicly private place to either fuck or suck. He chose the men's room at the theater when we were attending opening night at the opera. I came back with a blow job in our private box at a spring training baseball game. New York City held limitless possibilities and we had chosen to try and discover them all.

As I became more knowledgeable about the lifestyle I found that every Master had some particular thing they leaned towards. Some Masters, like Cecil, liked to inflict pain and others enjoyed the art of humiliation. Charles' predilection leaned more towards medical dominance. He loved to don his lab coat and strap a submissive to his examining table and perform his own special form medical treatment on them.

I never took a submissive role with Charles, other than loving being on my knees sucking his cock, but I was always curious what he did behind the closed doors of his personal space. He had built his playroom on the same floor as our private residence at the brownstone. He and Peyton were the only people to hold keys to the room and for some unknown reason it was the only thing we never shared.

My eyes always drifted over to the door whenever I got off the elevator and often wondered if deep down inside I was jealous of what went on in there. I appreciated the effect the room had on him whenever he emerged after a session - he was always calmer and breathtakingly romantic after spending a few hours in there.

As much as I loved our public sex-games I couldn't help but dwell on the one place I really wanted to try.

It was Sunday. I had been in New York for spring break but it was over and I was returning to Washington the next morning. Charles was downstairs dealing with a minor issue with a submissive. He didn't normally involve himself in the day-to-day 'issues' – he had people to do that – but for some reason he felt his attention was needed.

I was wondering idly around the apartment, trying to come up with something special we could do with the few hours we had left, waiting patiently for him to return. For some unknown reason I found myself standing outside of his private room wondering just what was on the other side of the door. I don't know what made me reach out and try the door knob, I had never considered it before, but I did and surprising it twisted slowly in my hand and a moment later the door cracked open. I knew that Charles hadn't been in the room for the past ten days and I imagined he was missing it.

I looked over my shoulder, like a kid trying not to get caught, and slipped into the room. It was pitch black in the room and I had to feel around on the wall for the light switch. A second later harsh florescent lighting filled the room. The windowless 18X18 room had hospital green walls with a floor of painted dark grey concrete. In the center of the room was a sleek, state of the art, examining table and a small rolling stool – much like the one Renaldo used at his shop. Two drains, one on either side of the table drew my fleeting attention. Along the wall where the door was there was a waist high cabinet with a stainless steel sink and large goose neck faucet. Foot pedals below the sink turned the water off and on. Above the sink were two wooden cabinets. Curious, I peeked into each cabinet to find bottles of antiseptics, soaps and lubricant, of various brands and flavors, boxes of latex gloves, wipes, rolls of flexible bandages and packages of sterile drapes with holes in the middle.

On the next wall was a medical scale, blood pressure equipment and a wall mounted ophthalmoscope with various size tips. Medical posters showing men's penises and prostates adorning the wall. The far wall, across from the door, had four large glass shelved cabinets. Each cabinet appeared to have its own designation. Next to the first cabinet was a rolling IV stand. In the cabinet was what appeared to be two dozen or so different shaped and size enema nozzles. There was also several enema bags all in various sizes and shapes, four stainless steel oversize syringes, sealed packages of rubber bulb enema douches, and length after of length of medical grade tubing. Charles had told me about enemas, but we hadn't shared the experience together. The most we did was the hose in the shower for quick clean ups – well clean outs.

I moved onto the next cabinet which was filled with various styles and sizes of dildos. I didn't take the time to count them but I estimated there had to be over a hundred different ones. I couldn't even begin to imagine what Charles did with those.

The next cabinet had all different types of BDSM gear - gags, nipple clamps, cock cages,and more things I couldn't even identify. The speculums peaked my interest and I couldn't help but reach into the cabinet and take one out. It was made of stainless steel and heavy in my hand. A fleeting image of me lying on the table with this cold instrument gaping my ass open made my cock twitch and grow.

The last cabinet seemed to be a catchall and held instruments and more items I couldn't identify. There were several metal boxes with various dials that plugged into a wall and next to the boxes were electrical leads and rubber rings. On another shelf was an open box that held what look like a dozen different size metal rods. Next to it was another box with similarly shaped rods of different sizes and lengths.

On the last wall of the room stood a stall shower another sink and a toilet.

I walked to the center of the room, to the table and ran my hand over the padded vinyl surface and then over the high cushioned stirrups that sat at the end of the table. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what I would look like naked my legs high in the air and Charles between them on that small squat stool.

"What are you doing?" There wasn't anger in his voice, it was soft and inquisitive.

"The door wasn't locked...I've always wanted to see what was in here...I'm sorry..." I said moving to leave.

"No. It's fine Michael. I never showed you the room because I didn't think it interested you."

"It looks so real..."

"Most everything in here is real. I bought it all from medical equipment manufacturers."

"I...um...could I sit on the table...I mean...I don't want to intrude, but it looks so...well you know...hot..." I had never been this shy or reticent with Charles before.

"Well..." He rubbed his hand over his chin, just in that way I knew he was being playful...and maybe even a little hopeful. "If you want to sit on the table you will have to be naked...that is one of the rules of this room."

Rules. Charles' rules. I couldn't help but smile.

"What about you?" I said walking over to him. He was dressed casually in a polo and chinos...and looking GQ and very delicious. I only had on a pair of casual pajama bottom, nothing I slept in, just to wear around the apartment when Peyton was around. I still wasn't 100% comfortable being naked around other people.

He pulled the string on my pants and in a quick moment they dropped showing Charles how ready...and excited I was. A lascivious smile touched his lips. "I want you to undress me." He said in a firm voice only serving to make me harder.

The little kid in me wanted to rip his clothes off and jump his bones as quickly as I could...the hell with this room...but there was another part of me that wanted to take this journey with Charles.

"Yes Sir" I whispered with a sarcastic smile touching my lips. Gently lifting his shirt from the bottom I pulled it over his head. I tried to lean in and run my tongue over his now taunt nipples, but he took a step back and shook his head. It was then that I realized that in this room Charles was in total control...this was Charles the Dominant.

"Now my pants." I obliged quickly touching him as little as possible, following his lead when he needed me to.

"Tell me what you want Michael." He said his that low sexy voice of his that always make me start leaking.

I looked straight in his eyes. I wanted to shrug, because I didn't truly didn't know what I wanted, but then I remembered how Cecil didn't allow shrugging. "I want to experience this room with you Charles."

For a brief moment I could see the confusion on Charles' face. He thought for a long moment about what he wanted to say. "You are not a submissive and I never want to treat you like one, but in here I have only had submissives. You have to tell me if I step over the line at any time or do something you aren't comfortable with."

"I will Charles, I promise."

"Good. To do this properly and safely I will need to be in total control and you are going to have to trust me – is that okay?"

"Yes." And I was being genuine. Everything that Charles was saying was exciting me more and more.

He led me over to the end of the table and had me sit with my ass as close to the edge as I could. Walking over to the side of the table he cupped my neck in his hand and helped me to a prone position. His eyes were twinkling with excitement making me want him even more.

He leaned over, his lips within a breath away from mine. "I have never kissed anyone in here before...I've never kissed a submissive...ever...I just want you to know that it's only you I am this intimate with." My heart sang with joy! He ran his tongue over my lips before plunging it deeply in my mouth taking my breath away.

"I want to restrain you." he whispered a moment later pulling away from me slightly. My eyes opened wide. We had only dabbled in bondage one other time and it was me restraining him and then having my way with him. I had dreams that one day he would want to do it to me also.

"Yes...please..." I was panting with excitement.

"It's going to be different. I am going to totally restrain you. You will not be able to move at all. You will have no choice but absorb all the pleasure I'm going to give you without being able to move any part of your body...is that okay?" Without thinking I nodded my head.

Charles simply smiled and touched his lips to mine lightly. "Don't do that ever again in here..." He instantly had my attention.

Over the next few minutes Charles worked silently binding me to the table. Using five inch wide poly straps he restrained me to the table at my forehead, upper chest and lower chest and hips. My arms were pinned down by leather cuffs that attached not only to the table but to the two lengths of chest restraints making it impossible for me to move them at all. He moved to the end of the table and lifted one leg at a time into the stirrups and again used lengths of the poly straps to bind me to the stirrups by my upper thighs and again at my knees. With a push of a button somewhere on the table he raised the stirrups and then spread my legs even farther apart. I was totally opened and exposed.