The 6:15 to Bondage

By Jack Brighton

The 6:15 train takes Rory home, where life with his folks isn’t so sweet. Then a chance encounter finds him a man who makes his journeys a whole lot brighter. Secretly played with in a crowded carriage, they progress to sex in the toilet. Nick is so hunky, daring and assertive. But he wants more than some fooling around on the train – he wants Rory to take the 6:15 to Bondage!
It’s a journey that Rory won’t take alone: Nick’s sexy P.A. will be there as well, helping the young novice as he encounters a rougher side to sex. The 6:15 train takes them to a night of submission and bondage – wonderful highs and lows at the hands of a master who knows what it takes to get up a full head of steam. A trip of a lifetime and a heck of a ride! That’s the 6:15 to Bondage!
Warning: This book contains explicit gay m/m content and is suitable for readers 18 and above.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Firm Hand Books
• Release date: Nov 21, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465981011

Jack Brighton

Jack Brighton is a British author who specialises in M/M erotica - most of which, but by no means all, falls into the category of BDSM - a way of life that he has rich experience of. There are romantic overtones in some of his work, but you tend to get what it says on the label. All the books fall under the banner 'Flaming Hot Gay BDSM' or 'Flaming Hot Gay Erotica', so don't expect anything else. But do expect them to be flaming hot, with plenty of storyline and character development. A dry sense of humour also features, and a very vivid imagination. He is best known for his 'Tales from The Wild Side' series, where that imagination runs riot.Jack was brought up in a mining community in the west of Scotland, took his degree at Stirling, did a year's post- graduate in Edinburgh, then moved south to London, where he taught for a few years before moving into the finance sector, based in The City. Many of his stories draw on this background - as a gay man trying to find himself in what was more often than not a hostile environment.Having given up the rat race, Jack became a full time writer in 2010. He now lives in Brighton with his long term partner.Jack has also written mainstream fiction under the pen name J. K. Brighton.

Book preview

The 6:15 to Bondage

(Flaming Hot Gay BDSM)

By Jack Brighton

Copyright Tom Farrell aka Jack Brighton, November 2011

Published by Firm Hand Books at Smashwords

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Please note: this is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This ebook is for sale to adult audiences only. It contains sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store the material where it cannot be accessed by minors.

All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older. As a piece of erotic fantasy where licence can be taken, certain scenes involve unprotected sex. This has been done to enhance the story.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Jack Brighton’s Flaming Hot Gay BDSM Collection

Tales from The Wild Side Extract – Welcome to The Wild Side

HisNemesis Trilogy Extract – His Nemesis

The Nabster SeriesExtract – Nabbed!

OtherBDSM Books Extract – The Alpha Sparky

Jack Brighton’s Flaming Hot Gay Erotica Collection

Erotica Books Extract –Private Education

About the Author

Chapter 1

Do you want another pint, Rory?

It was tempting to say yes. Another lager would go down well and Rory quite fancied the bloke who was offering. He was tall, which was good; a bit skinny, which was not; in his late-thirties, which was no problem at all to this nineteen year old lad who liked older men; he had a wedding ring on his finger, which wasn’t necessarily an issue; but he was his boss, and that definitely ruled out any flirtation during this first week of Rory’s probation in the job he had miraculously landed.

No, I’d best not, Rory replied after emptying his jar. I told my mum I wouldn’t be late. If I leave now I’ll catch the 6:15 train and save myself a lot of earache when I get home.

Fair enough, said Cameron Fisher, doing his best to avoid the expectant looks from the other members of his team who had adjourned to the local pub for the usual Friday evening drink after work. Have a good weekend. I’ll see you on Monday, bright and early.

Aye! Have a good one, Rory, harped up some of the team, raising their empty glasses in salute. So Cameron, if you’re getting them in, I’ll have a…

Rory left them to it. He walked out the pub door with a smile on his face and headed to the train station a happy young man. All in all his first week in full time employment had gone pretty well, having joined the marketing department in a big software house, specializing in the finance sector. His boss seemed like a decent bloke and the rest of the team were fine. Of course he had to take lots of stick being the junior member of the crew, and the work to date was mundane, but who cares about that! It was a job; and a bloody good one with a hell of a salary for a lad of his age, with chances to develop his talents in graphic design and progress within the company. Most of his mates were working in places like MacDonalds, or on the dole having given up hope of finding a decent job. Rory counted himself as very lucky. It was just a shame he still had to live with his folks, especially his dad, who had learned to hate the world after he’d lost his job five years ago. It wasn’t Rory’s mum who would give him an ear bashing if he was late – it was his bigoted, homophobic, and miserable as sin, cunt of a father, who had been threatening to toss him out of the house since Rory had turned sixteen.

Dreaming of the day he would earn enough money to get a place of his own, Rory arrived at the station and made his way to platform 6 in good time for the next train. He looked around, as was his want, hoping he might catch the eye of some good looking bloke and enjoy a bit of flirtation which might lead to some much needed sex. It had been over two weeks since he had last got laid, a brief encounter in the park with some faceless prick with a disappointingly small dick and an over-sized ego. He gave him a knee trembler from behind up against a tree. Five minutes was all it took before the bloke came and shot his load up Rory’s arse – it was hardly fulfilling – to be honest it was crap, but sadly all too typical of Rory’s closeted sex life in the dark.

Money would change all that – Rory was convinced of the fact. Once the salary cheques started rolling in and he’d saved up enough cash for a deposit on a flat, he would move to the city and away from his bastard of a dad. He would get a place of his own; come out of the closet, go out to gay bars and pick up quality men: hot horny studs, with whopping big cocks, who knew how to use their best asset and could fuck for hours on end; instead of cruising in the park out in the sticks, settling for anything that could get an erection and stayed in him for only a few minutes.

Merrily dreaming, as was his way, the train arrived and Rory fought to get on. The carriage was packed, no prospect of a seat, which was a bit of a disappointment, but not unexpected. British Rail travel during peak commuting hours was always a nightmare unless you were lucky enough to get on at the terminal, then you might have a chance to park your sweet ass, otherwise you stood for most of the duration.

Not to worry. It had pissed him off at first, but during the course of this first week of commuting Rory had discovered he could derive an odd sort of pleasure in these cramped conditions that he had borrowed a small fortune to enjoy. If luck was against him then it could be horrendous, like if he found himself under the armpit of some fat lump with a body odour problem; but on the other hand, if he managed to play it clever and get next to some horny looking bloke, then Rory found it could make the journey pass very nicely, breathing the man in and ‘accidently’ rubbing against him, getting lost in a dream of filthy composition.

Sadly that required enough space to manoeuvre which wasn’t a possibility this evening. Rory shuffled on board along with the hoards of other travellers anxious to get home after a hard day’s graft. He ended up positioned near to the door with his face to a window and little room to move. All he could do was plug in his ear-phones and listen to some tunes, enduring the journey whilst dreaming. Dreaming of a man on the 6:15 to... to a life he needed to escape.

Chapter 2

It’s an odd thing is physical presence. Some people have it, others don’t. Two minutes into the journey and Rory was being swamped by it.

What first caught his attention, Rory couldn’t say for sure. It could have been the scent, deep and musky, some pheromone laden richness that wafted up his nose and went straight to his cock along with a bucket load of blood. It could have been the pressure of a broad hunky chest pressing against his shoulders, suggesting a height far greater than his own modest five feet ten. It could have been the sound of a strong assertive voice talking on his mobile that cut through the tones of modern R&B music. Later Rory would say it was none of these things – they came after, albeit only seconds behind. Presence is an aura, and that’s what Rory felt – a masculine aura of sure authority that thrilled him to the very core.

Rory tried to look round without being too obvious. He got the hint of a suit, dark grey and expensive, on a bulk of a man which he had already sensed. The music on his iPhone was turned down and he tried to eavesdrop, hungry for some clue as to what this man was about. A wheeler and dealer was the conclusion quickly drawn – he was calling New York and he was calling the shots, telling some subordinate to get his act together or he’d be clearing his desk before the day was out. Rory got an immediate horn!

Minutes passed. Rory was in rapture – his balls brewing, his cock a raging erection gagging for some touch. There was something about this man that turned him on so much. He couldn’t see him, only form an impression, but Rory was certain he would fancy him once he was able to turn around and see the man face to face. He listened to the voice; he breathed in the scent; he tried to sneak the odd glance and get a view of his face; he pressed back ever so slightly to feel the man’s bulk – daring with his shoulders into the man’s chest but not risking anything lower in case he ended up getting arrested.

The man’s call came to an end, another took over. There was more respect being shown but the tone was still authoritative. Rory was practically creaming himself; then he almost spurted when he picked up an astounding delivery.

Personally I’d give him a good kick up the arse. That lad needs a firm hand, and that’s what I employed you for, so don’t be shy about using it... What was that! Acceptable office behaviour! Sod that! Put him over your knee and give him a good spanking if that’s what it takes to bring him in line, otherwise show him the door.

Rory felt his knees go weak. It was said as a joke, of that he was sure, but still he found the idea such an amazing turn on. And for the man to say it out loud on a jam packed train - well that was such confidence, it made Rory tingle all over. His asshole was twitching, gagging for some meat. His cock was throbbing, aching for attention - Rory wished he could slip his hand inside his flies and give the bugger a quick chug. A few would be all that was needed and he would be blowing off a load, spewing out his spunk and making a mess of his pants and trousers, that was how turned on the horny sod was!

Behind him, the telephone conversation moved onto more mundane matters – forecast updates, other deals in the pipeline. Rory drifted away from it, his head swimming in a fantasy – a fantasy he had long harboured and wished could come true...

...Smelling him, hearing him, pressed wonderfully against him, Rory saw this man who’s face he didn’t know, come storming into an office in New York. Rory was there at his imaginary desk, joking on the phone, larking around as was his want in this dream – a lazy little bugger who needed a firm hand.

He got one!

Grabbing the handset, the man snarled down the line, He’ll call you back, before slamming it down on the receiver.

At least you will if that was a client, which I very much doubt, the man roared as he cuffed Rory hard around the ear.

Oblivious to potential onlookers in this imaginary place, the man then grabbed that stinging ear and dragged Rory to his feet, the lad howling and whinging,