An Angel Falls to The Wild Side

By Jack Brighton

Barry Angel thought that he had it all when he became Ralph Daley's voluntary slave, but the realities didn't quite measure up to his high expectations. The sex was great, but as the couple were monogamous for insecure Barry's benefit, and Ralph was a certified top, the young slave had no outlet for the other aspect of his nature, and after ten long weeks it was starting to wear him down. Being a kept man was gnawing at him as well. Barry's the type who needs to contribute and he felt like a parasite in the relationship. And then there was the creative aspect of his nature which needed an outlet as well.
Problems for Mr Angel - and for his relationship with Ralph.
But not too worry. Having spotted the pair at The Wild Side, London's raunchiest gay nightclub, the owner has taken an interest and Barry's life is about to change dramatically. The Angel is going to fall from the pedestal his master has placed him on. He 's going to fall to The Wild Side, which of course means fall to Big Bad Angus MacLeod and his entourage of slaves, which will add a little balance to Barry's sexual diet as it would be all one way traffic. But it goes way beyond that. Tapping into Mr Angel's creative side, a job at the club is in the offing if Barry can impress. A set designer is needed for the new Fantasy Zone, which will be changed on a weekly basis. Barry has one shot only to convince MacLeod he is up to the task, so whatever he comes up with had best be good. Sadly, in his efforts to impress, he's going to fall foul of his master - on the most surprising of things as well. After a weekend of debauchery with MacLeod and the boys, where a whip is taken to Barry's back, it's a single mark from the club manager, Mr Charles, that threatens to end the relationship.
It all reaches a conclusion during another night at The Wild Side where Barry's future is in the balance, waiting on the decisions of two masterful men.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Firm Hand Books
• Release date: Feb 26, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310844775

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

An Angel Falls to The Wild Side

A Tale from The Wild Side

(Flaming Hot Gay BDSM)

By Jack Brighton

Copyright Jack Brighton, 2015

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

Author’s Note

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Next Book in the Series - The Taming of Gangster Gaz Extract

Jack Brighton’s Flaming Hot Gay BDSM Collection

His Nemesis Trilogy Extract – His Nemesis

The Nabster SeriesExtract – Nabbed!

OtherBDSM Books Extract – The 6:15 to Bondage

Jack Brighton’s Flaming Hot Gay Erotica Collection

Erotica Books Extract –Private Business

About the Author

Author’s Note on the ‘Tales from The Wild Side’

The Wild Side is a fictional gay nightclub situated in London’s Soho district, where extremely wealthy and powerful men enjoy games of sexual debauchery. The series of books which comprise the ‘Tales from The Wild Side’ is centred on the club and the people who are involved with it. All the books have a gay erotic theme with a strong BDSM slant.

Each book is a stand-alone work and they can be read in any order. There is a chronological sequence, however, which would make sense to follow if all the books are to be read. The sequence of books to date are:

Welcome to The Wild Side

A Taste of The Wild Side

Made for Auction

Fisting Night at The Wild Side

Christmas at The Wild Side

The Wild Side of Paddy McGuire

A Walk on The Wild Side

An Angel Falls to The Wild Side

The Taming of Gangster Gaz

Boot Camp Week

Reaching for The Wild Side

Look to The Wild Side

Chapter 1

A handsome young Angel stood on his pedestal scanning the mass of humanity below him: writhing bodies that looked so fine; a bevy of fit men on the high that is life, adrenalin and testosterone fuelling their night, along with a variety of less noble chemicals to heighten the buzz they were having. A kaleidoscope of lights flashed across the male dancers, most of whom were stripped bare to the waist, showing off their muscles and array of tattoos, hoping to attract a suitable mate for the night. Music blared to a hard techno beat, another anthem being played to this modern day tribe, although up on the balcony the sound was muted, allowing the Angel to think for a moment.

And Barry Angel needed to think.

So much had happened recently in his life. So much had happened already tonight, including the two hours he’d spent in this club. Yet it was far from finished, of this Barry was sure. The night was still young and possibilities lay ahead – as is usually the case on a Saturday night for a hunky young gay lad in London. But what path should he follow – that was the question. Assuming the choice was actually his.

Down in the melee of gyrating bodies, a hand was raised that caught Barry’s attention. It was Sven: one of the guys he’d come out with tonight, waving affably in his direction. He was dancing with his buddy Marco – the pair of them attracting plenty of attention. And quite rightly so given how stunning they looked: Sven being a classically handsome Swede – blond and blue-eyed with the sculpted body of a Health and Fitness model; Marco a dark-haired Italian stallion of equal merit in his own distinctive way, not quite so chiselled but oozing with charisma and a fiery Latin passion. Individually sensational – together they were a dream, creating an aura of sexual fantasy that promised so much. The world was your oyster with this raunchy duo, if only you were able to seize it. But none of their admirers would get anything tonight, other than perhaps a flirtatious fondle from the mischievous Marco. Not because they were boyfriends who didn’t fool around. It was because they were slaves under orders to behave.

Slaves!

Yes, that’s right. These men were slaves, and proper slaves at that, who had spent six months preparing for the role in a training camp near Munich, then were bought at auction by a man Barry knew, only to be sold again six months later to their current master – the notorious owner of The Wild Side, Big Bad Angus MacLeod. It hardly seemed credible to him that Barry was out with them tonight, and very much enjoying their company, despite the ear-bashing he’d received from Marco, and the more subtly delivered sermon from Sven. That hadn’t come here at the club of course. Here was about dancing and having a laugh; giving it large without getting totally trashed – orders being orders and not to be disobeyed. The chat had come earlier when they’d gone to a bar, and Barry had been obliged to tell them his story – ‘A Walk on The Wild Side’ that Mr Angel was still taking, with questions in his head about where next to go.

It was just over two months ago, at the end of October, when Barry had met Ralph Daley – a beast of a man almost twice his age, who in the space of a few hours totally won him over, treating him to the most thrilling sex of his life by screwing him on the bonnet of his Ferrari up on Wimbledon Common. Barry had never known anything like it, which took him by surprise to be honest. He’d fooled around with plenty of men in the past, and despite being only twenty years old, considered himself to be an experienced campaigner when it came to gay sex – topping mainly, which he professed to prefer. The masterful Mr Daley turned that view on its head. Pain and violence, magnificent domination, a fabulous big cock and a glorious hairy chest, plus the man himself with his aura of power, combined to change young Barry’s opinion as he was given a buggering that was out of this world.

Mightily impressed by the command performance, Barry wanted more: more of the sex, and more of Ralph Daley – more of everything this man could offer. He wanted to experience some of the life he led – a life that embraced the darker side to sex, where power was a king not afraid to rule and slaves were obliged to do their master’s bidding. And that’s what Ralph had suggested, wanting more of young Barry as well: that over the weekend they take ‘A Walk on The Wild Side’ and adopt the roles with each other. It would be a novelty for both of them, as Ralph had never possessed a slave of his own, unwilling to accept the responsibility that went with such a monumental commitment.

It was one hell of an experience. An Angel by name encountered a demon by design, in whose masterful hands he learned the meaning of submission. Barry’s eyes were opened to a whole new world, and an aspect of his nature he barely knew existed. And it went way beyond the sex, which was sensational of course. It went to the very core of Barry’s being, touching the soul and exciting the imagination, turning his fantasies into reality, making sensuous moments out of the most mundane of things. It totally blew the young Angel’s brain.

Too good to be true?

Well it seemed that way. As sadly it all went wrong the following night when Ralph had taken Barry to his favourite club – The Wild Side of course: a den of iniquity if ever there was one, where gay sexual decadence is a constant theme and promiscuity has licence to run riot. It was silly really. An evil trick that Fickle Fate played that evening. Whilst Mr Angel was no angel whatsoever, having played the field and screwed widely around, he had a romanticised notion when it came to couples, believing that monogamy was the way for them to go. So when Ralph’s hand was forced with macho pride at stake, and he was obliged to fuck another slave, smitten young Barry had stomped off in a hurt rage, believing the man to be a total bastard for treating him so callously.

It all worked out in the end, however – or sort of worked out, if you drew a line under their story a week later and called it the end. Ralph dared to pull an audacious stunt and won Barry back as a consequence. No definite commitment was made at the time, other than they would try to be master and slave, and that Ralph would do his utmost to adapt his way of life and stop his precious Angel from flying away again.

And here Barry was a couple of months later – the first Saturday in January, so at the start of a New Year – out with other slaves, trusted to behave, and trusting his master to do the same as Ralph chewed the fat with Angus MacLeod and a horny big Irishman called Paddy McGuire. But was that really the best strategy: to behave like an angel? Was that really the path for Barry to follow, or was it time for Mr Angel to change direction? Should he take the advice that had been coming his way and fall from the pedestal on which his master had placed him?

Fuck! cried Barry feeling a sudden chill on his back where beads of sweat shimmered on his bare skin.

He turned to see a beaming young man, holding out the bottle of ice cold Becks that had given Barry such a startle. This was Dylan – another member of MacLeod’s harem of slaves, and who made up their party of four tonight. Unlike Sven and Marco who were both in their mid-twenties, Dylan was a youngster at only eighteen. Cute rather than handsome was how Barry would describe him – very cute indeed, with a mop of blond hair and sparkling blue eyes, dimpled ruddy cheeks and full ruby lips. At five foot ten he was three inches shorter than Barry, more slender of build and packing a little less muscle, which meant the guy still boasted plenty of beef, with good sized pecs that were naturally smooth and a fabulous set of washboard abs.

I got you a beer as well as some water, said Dylan. The water’s round here. Do you want to fish it out?

The bottle of Becks was handed over and Dylan turned around, presenting his bare back and his denim clad ass where a small bottle of water had been forced into the right pocket. Unable to resist, Barry took a moment to inspect the pose. And this wasn’t the first time he’d checked Dylan out – his ass in particular drawing plenty attention as it had to be one of the wonders of nature: bubble-butt buns that looked perfect in jeans, and would undoubtedly look even better without them.

Reaching out for the water, the temptation was there to grab the other butt cheek and give it a hearty grope. The jeans were low cut with nothing obvious beneath, so the top of Dylan’s ass crack was teasingly on show. As he grabbed the plastic bottle by the neck, temptation raged yet again: to push the bottle downwards rather than pull the thing out, forcing the jeans over those spectacular buns so he could feast his eyes on the nudity revealed. But being a good slave who was faithful to his master, Barry resisted and removed the bottle. A little play was definitely in order, however – innocent play that broke no rules. So Barry returned the earlier chilling favour by trailing the cold plastic along Dylan’s spine, eliciting a moan and an arch of his back as shoulders contracted and a head was thrown up to face the ceiling.

Was that for real?

Perhaps. But then again, it could be yet another piece of subtle flirtation, acting like it was a cock that had just gone up his ass. He might only be eighteen, but the guy was a professional, trained to please in all manner of ways, so Barry wouldn’t dismiss the idea. Anyway – an act or not, it was seriously hot, and Barry wouldn’t mind seeing it repeated, but this time for real without any question as he fed young Dylan the full length of his shaft then gave him the fucking that his ass deserved.

No! No! No!

It had to be wrong to think that way. Barry was a slave with a caring master who’d been faithful for two months in consideration of his feelings. It was the height of hypocrisy to have such thoughts... But how could he not when the guy was so cute, seriously fit with a cracker of an ass – a former sex worker who had been trained to please and undoubtedly made for a top class shag? How could he possibly not think these things when he’d spent the whole evening in Dylan’s flirtatious company, and it had been ten long weeks since he’d last fucked a guy?

No – it wasn’t easy being an angel in that sort of company. But Barry battled to win the good fight, doggedly clinging to a self-imposed dogma that was becoming increasingly fragile by the minute, melting in the heat like Icarus’s wings – another angel who soared thanks to his father, and fell thanks to the sun.

The playful deed done and composure regained, Barry took a slug of water to quench his thirst then handed the bottle back to Dylan as the lad turned around beaming yet again. The bottle was accepted, sipped from, then returned to the back pocket, unneeded for the time being as there were beers to be tackled.

Cheers! they both said, clinking the perspiring bottles together before taking a swig of the frothy liquid. Then Dylan joined Mr Angel on the balcony perch, forearms resting on the ledge, the pair of them leaning over to check out the humanity – male humanity in the prime of its life, full of exuberance and the joie de vivre.

They watched the scene below in comfortable silence for a moment, admiring the men who provided the floorshow. Then another wave was made from within the throng - Sven now spotting Dylan, who returned the salute to his fellow slave.

God! I didn’t notice him at first, the teenager said.

How could you possibly miss him?

Dylan gave Barry’s arm a friendly nudge, leaving his elbow where it had landed so that the fine hairs on their arms entangled together, firing sparks of electricity between them – naughty little bugger that he was! Yeah I know – sickeningly handsome, isn’t he? he said. And not in the slightest bit arrogant about it, which makes him all the more attractive in my books. But it’s Marco that threw me. He looks so different with the new face fuzz.

Excited by the game where the stakes were being raised, Barry held his ground and allowed the arm contact. It was fairly innocent when all said and done – assuming you ignored his earlier yearnings which could put a different slant on the matter. Yeah, he agreed, looking at Marco and liking what he saw – another chink in the Angel’s armour appearing, another feather plucked from his wings. He didn’t have that when we met on Christmas Eve. Maybe I inspired him to go for the butch look, laughed Barry, who had grown a short beard himself of late – his master saying he liked him that way.

Caught off guard, Dylan threw a glance towards his hunky new friend, wondering if this might actually be the case. It did seem rather odd that shortly after Christmas, Marco had asked permission to grow the facial stubble which he’d kept to a five day shadow.

The butch look?

Yes, decided Dylan – that’s what Marco seemed to be going for. To accompany the stubble,