Chance Happenings is a completed story, I finished it a few months ago, however it's not really very good and I'm not entirely happy with it so feel free to be has harsh as you like with criticisms. Also, sorry about any spelling errors, I haven't yet managed to get my spellchecker into English, my entire laptop's in Spanish... Which I don't yet understand. This does contain gay sex and mild BDSM just so you know.
Prologue
The collar was cold around his neck, the unyielding steel settling against his throat the moment he knelt before his temporary master for the night, laying his hands palm down against the floor, as a dog would do. He waited patiently for the older man to move around him, assessing the room and seeing what was on offer for them that night, what exotic pleasures he could introduce his temporary sub to.
James kept his head down, facing the thick carpet, focusing so hard on not looking up, on not being disobedient that he didn’t notice the black cloth being tied over his eyes. He whimpered softly at the sudden loss of his vision.
“What are your safe words?” His master coaxed gently, reminding him he was safe here, that nothing was going to happen than the didn’t want.
“Viper and Python, sir,” he whispered, keeping his head down until he was instructed to lift it. A hand under his chin held him steady as fingers pressed against his lips, pushing something sweet and sugary into his mouth. Dark chocolate and strawberry hit his senses, the taste so much more intense now that he couldn’t see. That same hand tilted his head up to face where the assumed his master to be sitting, reclining in the chair there as many were want to do.
Prepared to receive a mouthful of the other man’s cock, the hand in his hair surprised him, stroking him like one would a cat or some other family household pet. A rustling sound came from above him and he attempted to look up, only to be greeted with the strange darkness he assumed being blind would be akin to.
The hand on his balls was cold, almost unbearably so, and yet he hardened to its attention, straining into the icy touch in desperation. The cold metal cage he hadn’t been expecting closed around him with a snap and he yelped in surprise and discomfort as the cold metal seemed to brand his skin.
“Don’t want to wear you out too early do we?” The voice in his ear was like dark chocolate, velvety and smooth with a cultured accent with just a hint of Scottish. He whined and butted his head against the knee he could feel beside his face, receiving a slap on his arse for his trouble.
“I didn’t say you could move did I?”
“No sir.”
“I didn’t say you could talk did I?”
James could hear the smirk in his voice but didn’t make another sound until he heard the unmistakable swish of a whip being cracked through the air near him. Again he was asked his safe words and again he answered the same, half excited, half dreading the feel of the whip on his back. The soft leather swished through the air again and this time he felt a slight draft from it as it whistled past him, but it still didn’t contact with him.
A rough hand in his hair pulled his head upwards and the smell of oiled leather met his senses.
“Kiss it and say you consent,” the dark voice whispered in his ear, enticing and dangerous all in one. He shuddered and did as he was told, kissing the leather and allowing himself to be manhandled into position, on all fours, his legs spread apart. He felt exposed and vulnerable but he trusted this man with his body, more than he had done with any before.
Never before had he been whipped, he had never sat on tenterhooks waiting for the whistling swish and the stinging pain, so now he knelt as still as possible, wondering what it would be like, knowing he could end it with one word if he didn’t like it.
The sudden crack was the only warning he received before the pain struck him, blinding, stinging, searing pain, emanating from the reddened strip on his back. He drew a sharp breath before the second stroke, biting his lip not to scream out as the blood began to bubble to the surface of his pale skin.
“Count for me pet,” came the order from above and he began from one, unsure if the first two had counted or not.
“One Master, Two Master, Three Master, F-four M-master…”
He lost count after seven, his arms gave out and the tears poured freely down his face, soaking into the blindfold and stinging his eyes, his wrists were grabbed and handcuffed together to stop him moving, stretching him into a strained position, exposing more flesh to his merciless handling of the leather whip.
The cold fingers were back, releasing the cage around his balls, caressing his thighs, “Come, pet.”
He came with a scream, darkness creeping from his vision into his head, blurring every other sense he possessed as his muscles collapsed under him and he descended into the oblivion of unconsciousness.
Chapter 1
He was there again, standing before him, the whip in his hand, smirk twisting his handsome features, dark eyes boring into his, willing him to submit to him, to be owned and give over his freedom to this beautiful man before him. He wanted to, he wanted to so badly, he wanted to give up everything just to be with him, just to be his, to belong somewhere-
“Martin!”
James cringed and looked up guiltily, staring at his supervisor.
Amy leant against the doorframe to the small office, arms crossed and a cocked eyebrow aimed at the young officer staring sheepishly at the computer.
“Have you still not done those reports?”
“Um, well. No. Sorry,” he said awkwardly, avoiding meeting his friend’s eye.
“A bit distracted were we? Would it happen to have anything to do with your date the other night?” Amy slid into the seat opposite the young man, leaning across the desk, around the computer to stare into his eyes. “Who is she?”
James could feel the blush rising up his cheeks and heard her giggle.
“Oooh, she something special then? What’s she like, anyone I kno-“
“Inspector Jacobs, you’re needed in interview room three.”
“Damn.” She stood up again, straightening her uniform. “Process that paperwork PC Martin!”
She gave him a wink and walked out, swaying her hips unsubtly at the CIU officer who had come to collect her.
James turned back to the report he was meant to be processing; an armed robbery in the local newsagent where he lived. He had known the owner personally and wasn’t happy to find out she had been hospitalised due to the stroke she suffered from during the raid.
Mechanically he began to enter information into the form, not even needing to look at the medical report for a lot of the data, he had known the assailant personally as well; an old school mate. Well, mate was stretching it a bit far. Elliot Hunter had lived up to his surname, hunting and terrorising the majority of the school when they were in primary. Some part of him was glad that he was gone, another part of him wished that he had suffered longer than the hanging he had inflicted upon himself.
Shaking his head he tried to clear it of anything that would make his judgement towards this case skewed, and only succeeded in delving deeper into the fantasy he had been engaged in before.
***
“Billy! Where are you boy?!”
Billy Wells, barely 14 years old and more terrified than he had ever been in his life hid in the cupboard under the stairs, trying not to cry out as he heard his father’s drunken yells for him to come out from wherever he was. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, but it was getting too much out of hand for him to deal with it. Ever since his father had lost his job he had been taking it out on Billy, mentally and physically abusing him every time his mother’s back was turned. She wasn’t interested though, she was too busy worrying about the divorce and all the money she should get to be worried about her younger son when she had an older one who was just being processed to begin his five year sentence for manslaughter.
Curling back further into the small space as far as he could, hiding between the vacuum cleaner and an ironing board that hadn’t been used since the one that folded out from the wall had been installed, he tried to be as silent as possible, whimpering softly in fear as the heavy footsteps neared his hiding place. They stopped right outside the door and through the crack where the skirting board had come away from the floor, Billy could see the huge feet in shiny black shoes. A huge fist bashed against the wall and the thunderous voice came once more “BILLY!”
He didn’t mean to move, but the involuntary twitch the yell had caused invoked an avalanche of cleaning equipment and old boots. The door flung open and there he stood, red-faced and glaring, blue eyes clouded with anger. A meaty fist reached into the cupboard and grabbed the collar of Billy’s t-shirt, dragging him out, unheeding of the pain he was causing him. Even from the floor he could smell the alcohol on the man’s breath, enough to know that something really bad had happened.
A letter was thrust in his face, the hand releasing him to allow him to fall against the wall and slide down it.
“Do you know what this is?” He didn’t wait for Billy’s reply, simply carried on, disregarding any response his son made. “These are the custody papers that were drawn up by your mother and the courts. They say she gets fully custody and I have to pay child-support. She gets the house and the car, and I get nothing. You know who’s fault this is?” He waved the paper in Billy’s face, crouching down to his height. “This is yours.”
His voice fell to a whisper as he knelt on the floor before his son. “You know, none of this would have happened if you hadn’t been born. We didn’t even want you! You were an accident. No one would miss you if you just vanished. And I wouldn’t have to pay anything, and I would get the house and the car and everything that belongs to me!” His voice rose so fast he was yelling before he was even halfway through the sentence.
“I wish you had NEVER BEEN BORN!” The penknife was out of his pocket faster than Billy could move and blade was in his stomach before he really knew what was happening. For a moment there was a minor scuffle, and then blood began pouring from the boy’s stomach, coating the knife handle and making it slippery, hard to hold onto. His grip slipped and the knife plunged in further, a sickening crunch meeting his ears as the boy sagged, his eyes open in a look of horror, staring at his mad father’s face.
Yeah, Billy does feature in the next chapter which I have just posted 
