Polished: Handled, #3

By Romilly King

How deadly do you have to be to kill a killer?

 

Handlers are hard to kill, and to be fair most of us like the challenge when people try, but now someone is killing off handlers in bloody and complex ways.

Not my problem.

Not anymore.

I got out, I got free, and I don't want to go back.

But someone is offering a favour if I handle this, a valuable one, and it could make all the difference to how this story ends.

Handlers don't expect a happy ever after; most of us don't even know what one looks like.  I do, my happy ever after is blue eyed and frequently filthy and deliciously mouthy and he bends the way I want him to bend.  And I could have that. All I have to do is take on one more handling, and ensure we both survive it.

The odds are not with me this time though.

I really should have kept on killing, I'm out of practice.

 

Polished is the third book in the Handled trilogy, it is a dark gay romance dealing with adult themes and contains graphic scenes that may upset some readers. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balloon Ride Books
• Release date: Dec 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215238813

Romilly King

Romilly write's character driven gay romances that focus on the dynamics of intense relationships.  Romilly's plots tend to dive deep into the more fascinating aspects of human behaviour - basically there will be a lot of kinky stuff!

Book preview

Chapter One

Gray

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Nathan is fitter than he was. He still has the long muscles of a swimmer but I can see he works out more now.  I guess he has the time, and he needs to get rid of the energy.  As a result he is more ripped, more defined, more delicious to play with.

As he walks naked towards the bed I note his ass is fuller, rounder, the muscles smooth, and his body is pale from a Washington winter.  That will change soon, now I have him in the sunshine.

He turns and looks questioningly at me.

Up against the headboard, I say.

He climbs onto the dark blue coverlet and his paleness glows against the night sky colour.  The window above the bed is covered with a thin curtain, dimming the striking afternoon sunlight, and the room is hot with the scent of warm flesh.  Already Nathan’s body has a thin sheen of sweat.

That’s going to taste delicious.

He arranges himself in the centre of the bed, his back against the antique wooden headboard. Is this okay?

No talking, please.

His breath hitches and his eyes never leave mine.  I see the uncertainty in them and it’s so pretty.

Gonna push you sweetheart, gonna help you find your headspace.

I move towards the bed, the soft cotton folds of the peshtemal tied around my waist teasing my cock.  I take Nathan’s wrist and feel the pulse jumping under my fingers.  I keep my eyes on him as tie his wrist to the headboard with a silk scarf, wrapping the bond securely.  He bites at his lip, and his cock, resting in the soft hair at his groin, starts to thicken.

I circle the bed and tie his other wrist in the same way.

I consider tying his ankles.  It would make him more vulnerable, but I am happy if this ends up with him fighting me, so let's give him options.

I’ve been so looking forward to you like this, I say, It’s been a long six months.

He nods but doesn’t say anything.  In his eyes nerves war with eagerness.

He flew in last night, catching the last flight out of Istanbul to Izmir, hopping down the Aegean coast.  By the time he got to Şirince he was worn and weary and nine time zones out of sync.  I tucked him into the so soft bed in my rented cottage at the top of the village and let him sleep off the journey. 

We spent the early afternoon on the balcony, me feeding him Turkish snacks the caretaker’s wife brought to the gate, and watching the light change on the stone houses and the vineyards below us.  We talked of my work, of the dig at the Gladiator graveyard at Ephesus, and I let my eyes roam over him, drinking him in, getting greedy for what was to come.

Now it is late afternoon and I can’t wait any longer to fire him up, find his tipping point, and then remind him of what we are together.

I crawl onto the bed and he obligingly parts his legs, allowing me to settle between them.  Lightly I stroke the inside of his thighs and he shivers, he knows this gentle touch will soon change.

I love that Nathan will let me do this with him, how he knows I desire to  push him.  This here, this is my addiction and I nurture it, holding it in for the times Nathan is physically present.

I don’t kill any more.  I don’t have that kind of an explosive release available to me.  Instead I wait, until I have Nathan at my disposal and I find that is its own kind of intoxicating. 

Reaching around him I draw out the heavy nipple clamps I tucked under the pillow earlier, sliding them and the attached chain across his belly and cock as I pull them towards me.

Nathan takes a deep breath and I see the muscles in his chest flex as he imagines the discomfort to come.

The clamps are cruel, edged with sharp teeth, not novice stuff but I know he can take it.  Although it will hurt more than he expects.

Which is what I want.

I lean in to lick at his nipples and his skin tastes wonderful, the fresh tang of his sweat altogether delicious.  I am going to make him run with sweat and lap it all up.

With two fingers I pinch his left nipple and as I attach the clamp he hisses at the bite.  I adjust the clamp fussily, making sure to prolong the pain, drag it out a little, ensuring it is secure and making it repeatedly bite into his sensitive flesh.

He blows out a breath, rolling his head on his shoulders.

I turn to his right nipple, pinching it hard and clamping it suddenly and the weight of the chain pulls his other nipple in tandem and he jerks, his thighs flexing.

Such lovely tits, I say warmly and drag a finger over the reddening tip of his nipple.  He blushes in response and tries to turn away from my gaze.

I take a grip on his chin and firmly turn his face towards me.  What did I just say? He hesitates and I rise up slightly on my knees. Say it.

You said, I have lovely tits. His voice is grating, he hates saying things like this.  I love hearing them.

You do, and they are even lovelier with the clamps.  I tug on the chain lightly and he throws his head back, hissing.

I watch as he tries to relax into the discomfort.

His cock, which had momentarily deflated, starts to swell again as I toy with the chain, first pulling lightly and then harder as I slowly get more aggressive and he grunts in pain.

Does it hurt, baby?

Like a bitch.  His eyes are screwed shut and his face is flushed. 

Don’t fight it. Just feel it.

He squirms as far as his bonds allow him and his thigh muscles clench and release.

Sink into it, let it take you down.

I can’t, it hurts.

I pull again on the chain, making sure not to pull so hard the clamps come off, slowly dragging the pain higher.

Tomorrow his nipples will be sore, the teeth of the clamps will leave deep pinprick bruises on his nerve rich skin - the thought makes my thickening cock grow harder.  I love to leave this man with reminders - be they the bruises I can scatter over him, or the traces of my semen deep inside him.

I alter the bite of the clamps again, inflicting fresh pain and Nathan’s shoulder muscles jerk and he shakes his head, fighting it.

This is your body. And I’m playing with it, hurting it, because I want to, I say, Making you hurt like this makes me happy.  You like making me happy don’t you Nathan?  My tongue feels thick in my mouth and I watch his face, drinking in the sweat that breaks out on his forehead, the way he presses back into the headboard, trying to ground the pain.

I ease off a little, letting the pain drain down.

Nathan is breathing in fast, shallow breaths.

I don’t know how much more I can take.

Fortunately it isn’t up to you.  His eyes flick open, navy blue in the hazy sunlight that falls through the high window.  But I’ll tell you this, I am really enjoying it.

I smile at him and pull the chain.

He growls, and I smirk, that’s what I want, I want him to get angry.

Pain and anger meld so beautifully together.

I lean in and run my tongue up his armpit, lapping at the sweat, intoxicated by the smell of him.  His cock is hard against my stomach and he can’t help the twitch of his hips. 

This is what I need. 

This is what I will never get tired of. 

This, with Nathan.

I lean back again and flick his nipples, hard.  The chain jerks, and Nathan makes a deep, ragged noise that rumbles up through his throat.  He throws his  his head back again, arching into the pain.

That’s what I am looking for, I tell him as I pull the clamps, Feel it. Give in to it.

He tries to say something but the words come out garbled and I lean forward and lick at his bitten lips. Let it come, let the feeling come. It’s going to get worse before it gets better. I pull on the chain again, harder this time.

Nathan growls again and his face twists, pain and anger and desire plaiting together. 

He is so pretty like this, his eyes screwed shut and the cords in his neck standing out.

I part the folds of my peshtemal and stroke my cock slowly, keeping the tension on the chain steady, and Nathan snarls, a weird low ululating sound.

There he goes.

I see it happen. The moment when he sinks into the pain, like I do, going down past the human part, deep down into the animal. 

His eyes flash open and he glares at me, anger burning in his eyes, and he bares his teeth at me.

So beautiful, so primal. 

He’s an animal in pain. 

And yet his cock is rock hard.

He pulls at the wrist bonds, never thinking that his legs are free, and he snarls at me, his lips twisted and his head forward.

I like him angry.  I particularly like him angry and helpless, raging and horny and in touch with his primal self.  I like knowing I put him there, pushed him there.

I mock him with my low laughter, tugging on the chain, watching his fury rise.  I lean down and lick a wet stripe up the hot length of his cock. Such a little pain slut aren’t you Nathan. 

He spits at me, his eyes blazing and his breath coming in pants.

I rip the clamps from his nipples and he howls, but at the same time his legs are sprawled wide and he is thrusting his hips towards me, his cock rampant and drooling.

Gripping his thighs I hold him still and go to town on his cock with my mouth, taking it deep, tongue out, slobbering at his balls and throat convulsing around him.  He jerks and flexes beneath me.

I pull back and slap his erection, Wanna come?

Do it, make me fucking come you fucker.

I love it when he loses all control.

Beg.

No, just fucking do it you animal.

I slap his cock again.

Gray, he yells, and tears of frustration and rage are in his eyes, Gray, give it to me, give it to me, make me come, please.

Close enough.

I swallow him down again and his hips jerk frantically.  I feel him swelling in my mouth, the silky skin of his cock covering flesh like marble.  I reach under his balls and press my thumb hard into the sensitive skin there and he comes, howling, crying out, garbled curses, and I drink him down. 

Welcome back into my world, Nathan, my delicious, deviant, beautiful lover.

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Nathan

The anger I feel when Gray torments me, it throws me.  After all the months we have spent apart angry is the last thing I want to be with him.  But the spikes of pain, the heat in the