A Strong Hand

him.
    Finally his back and hip were signaling dire distress and Nick had to move, letting out a little groan. He yelped and flinched as a hard hand cracked against his arse, sending a burst of heat through his left cheek.
    He turned instinctively just as the flash went and heard a click.
    "Will you hold still now, or do you want me to swat you again?"
    23

    A Strong Hand
    by Catt Ford
    Damian's voice came from almost directly behind him, where he was standing with the cable release in his hand.
    Nick fell silent and turned away from the camera again. He could see the handprint in his mind, red against the whiter skin of his arse. He was suddenly very embarrassed and humiliated to know that Damian had taken a picture of him that way and wondered what insanity had led him to yank off his clothes and kneel here unresistingly while Damian took more photographs. Not that he had much choice now that he'd let Damian tie him up. The words alone sent a shiver of arousal over his bare skin.
    "Got it," Damian breathed, when he'd captured the final shot. He came to himself then and chuckled as he took in the slim body of his assistant, stretched and bound, muscles moving under the smooth skin as he strained to remain still; a picture of sensual promise.
    "Sorry, Nicholas. I got a little caught up in my vision,"
    Damian apologized as he came forward to release the young man. He chuckled as he saw the palm print on the boy's round, enticing cheek. Had he really done that?
    He knelt behind Nicholas, leaning just a little closer than necessary to take in a whiff of the faint vanilla scent that clung to the boy as he released the ankle cuffs on the spreader bar.
    Nick shivered and the fine hairs on his back stood up as he felt the heat of Damian's body so close to his. For a moment, the man was kneeling behind him and Nick was trapped there, cuffed and spread. If Damian were to try something, take his pleasure, Nick wouldn't be able to do a thing to 24

    A Strong Hand
    by Catt Ford
    defend himself. He was terribly frightened, and yet his cock was betraying him by remaining achingly hard.
    Damian noticed that the boy was trembling and gently released one arm, hanging on to the other one, sensing that Nicholas was about to bolt with the restraint still buckled onto his wrist. Once he had set the boy free, Nicholas sprang to his feet with a coltish grace, keeping himself turned away from Damian. He ran for his clothes, scooped them up, and headed straight for the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.
    Damian remained where he was, running the leather restraints through his fingers, still warm from Nicholas's heat.
    He could smell a hint of arousal on the air. So the boy had been turned on by this? Until now, Damian had been so involved with making the shot in his head a reality that he hadn't even considered the ramifications of having the beautiful young man, naked and bound, kneeling before him.
    He heard the outer studio door slam shut violently and smiled. Probably that meant he'd seen the last of Nicholas, but damn, the boy was delicious. His cock was pressing uncomfortably against his zipper, so Damian unzipped to relieve himself a little. When he pulled his cock out, the air was cool against his heated flesh, and his hand felt good. He closed his eyes, kneeling there, right behind where he'd had Nicholas restrained and spread, and he stroked himself off, gloating over the beauty that they had created together. He came with a stifled groan, shooting onto the canvas right where Nicholas had knelt.

    * * * *
    25

    A Strong Hand
    by Catt Ford
    Never had Nick been so grateful that he followed the fashion of his peers. It was one thing to be an independent thinker and go against the tide, but sometimes it was better if one wore baggy pants, giving one a fighting chance of hiding a raging hard-on.
    He could feel his erection sway with every step he took, his boxers softly rubbing against the swollen head of his cock. He hoped he wouldn't come in his pants before he got back to his shabby little cold-water flat.
    He took a seat in the train, because the tube was fairly empty at this hour. And then he stood right back up again when he saw how his erection tented his pants. Only a blind man could miss it. Soberly, he studied the advertisements over the windows, willing his prick to go down, but with minimal success.
    He usually had several hard-ons and jacked off a minimum of once over the course of a day, but now he was hard enough