Cathairsis (Part 10) by Fantasy Weaver

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Important author’s note: In respect to the Kanien’kehá:ka (Mohawk) people and their traditions, Rah’s full name will not be written in this work of fiction, as there is a living person who owns this name, and it would be disrespectful to use it without permission.

Continued from part nine.

Part ten of "Cathairsis: A Photographic Anthology". Please read the previous parts for context.

-Fantasy Weaver.


Note

1: Foul language ahead

2: Adult content ahead


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Cathairsis: A Photographic Anthology

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Picture 3 - Abandon to Discomfort, Pleasure in Discovery - Part 2

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A blaring car horn tore Aden out of his reverie. Green light flared through the dark of the night, reflecting off his windshield. Scowling, he eased his foot on the gas pedal.

Heavy bags under his eyes. Thoughts running at a billion miles an hour. No way he was going to get through this.

It was unfortunately eleven-thirty on Sunday night, and in the days since booking Rah’s appointment, Aden had done little other than work and lie awake at night, either researching, editing or…

Damn it, he really needed to do something about this. His work would suffer if this continued, or worse, Rah was going to notice. The last thing, the very last thing he needed, was for the barber to make some off-handed remark about his distracted mindset. Knowing Rah, he wouldn’t mince his words about it either.

Alright. That’s it. The first thing he’s doing when he’s getting home tonight is re-installing a dating app.

Yellow lamp posts whizzed by outside, leaving bright trails in their wake. The heat in his chest worsened, breaths nothing short of steam jets escaping a kettle, louder, louder, and louder.

Calm down. Just breathe. Dampen the fire. There’s no need to put it out. One only needs to control it.

In. Out.

Refocus on the road.

Concentrate on the job.

And leave feelings out of it.

Rah wants true emotion. Aden hates it, but he just needed to stop caring so much. It’s never going to impact his portfolio anyway. This is nothing but a one-time deal, and as soon as it’s over, Rah can continue degrading his subs, and Aden could go back to clean, professional, normal projects.

Projects that wouldn’t stoke these embers so. Projects that didn’t put his clients’ real feelings on display for anyone to see.

‘This is why you started this job,’ Aden reminded himself. He’s had a camera in his hands since he was a child. Behind the lens, he can decide what goes onto film, and doesn’t need to be in frame to alert others of his presence. His mere role as photographer is enough for him. A watermark. A logo. A studio. That’s as close as he needs to get to the inside of the frame.

"I’m going to finish this. I am. I will." Affirmations muttered to himself alone in his car. No one to hear but his subconscious.

Gold lights. Black and white barber pole spinning lazily, shedding a faint white glow. Here again. Aden parked his car just outside the shop. He stayed there, headlights illuminating the fire hydrant further up the sidewalk, motor running softly, steering wheel shaking faintly under his fingers.

Maybe it was his own fingers trembling. He didn’t want to turn the engine off to find out.

Honeyed irises glanced to the right, the side-view mirror.

The barber pole stopped turning. The lights went dark. Inside, a pale strip of illumination outlined the drawn curtains.

Rah knew he was here, didn’t he?

Turn the engine off. Take his camera, take his laptop, take all his sh*t. He needed to get this over with.

Aden’s Converse had barely made contact with the concrete step in front of the entrance before the door swung open for him. Dark irises met with his own before any word could come out of either of their mouths, before either made a move.

Be the first to talk.

"Aden-"

"Good evening. May I come in?"

Rah’s eyes widened fractionally, surprised at being cut off so swiftly. Aden took a step forward, using his sudden confidence and momentum to assume control. The barber moved out of the way casually, allowing him inside the shop, but not without pinning him with an inquisitive stare. That’s another thing he hated: perceptive eyes that show ever flicker of passing emotion in them, and they pierced through him like needles, prodding surgical tools.

The man didn’t know how easily he pressed Aden’s buttons.

‘Stop, stop, stop,’ his internal monologue went on. Huffing slightly, he plastered on a fake smile and flashed it at Rah, who still looked at him with that f***ing face while locking the shop.

In his eyes and on his tan lips, Aden could already see the words "Are you alright?" forming.

He shut down the attempt before the sentence ever came out. "Thanks for having me over a little earlier. I’m sure you’re as eager as I am to get home, huh?"

"Not really," Rah offered, stepping into the shop behind Aden, eyes taking in the photographer’s tense form. "I’m having fun with Emil after all."

Aden should have known better than to think that Rah wanted to end his session soon, and looking at the man’s attire, the photographer could tell he was being truthful about the "fun" part.

After last appointment’s hiatus, the weird leather pants with straps along their length were back. He couldn’t stop thinking about them, even with Keiji, when Rah had adorned himself in much more casual clothing. Even now, Aden couldn’t stop wondering what the hell it was about them that gave him shivers. With them, Rah’s favorite knee-high boots and a new leather harness, its silver ring digging into the middle of his sternum.

Huh. In lieu of beaded necklaces, Rah was wearing a silver chain with a single key dangling over his chest.

He tore his eyes away from Rah’s physique. "Your partner is already here, right?"

"Hm. He is. Don’t worry about him though," Rah said while glancing towards the back of the shop, from where, if Aden strained his ears, some noise could be heard. Brown eyes focused back on him. "He’s fine being alone for now. If you want to prepare your equipment up here, it would probably be better."

Relief flooded Aden’s being, but not because he could take some time to prepare while away from the den. This relief came from the fact that Rah wasn’t questioning him, warning him, nothing. The less Rah interfered with the photography aspect of the session, the better.

Aden nodded, "I will. Thank you."

"No. Thank you."

Aden scrunched his brows at the words. Depositing his bags on the black couch, he turned to Rah, "Why?"

A faint smile pulled at Rah’s lips, but it was his eyes that twinkled brightest of all. "For coming here so late. You look tired."

Direct as always, and Aden’s breath caught in his throat. Uncomfortable, he began taking his Nikon out of its carrying case. "It’s fine. Just had a hectic day…"

Rah hummed in response, accepting the lie easily. The truth was, Aden hadn’t even gone out of the house, apart from lounging on his patio. All he’d done was fret about in his home, frantically editing projects and sending out download links to clients, in hopes of giving his mind something to do other than it’s infuriating, irritating new habit of fantasizing. So, tired? Yes. But not the physical kind.

Maybe if he did tire himself out physically…

Later. He had to take pictures of Emiliano first (and hope to God that Rah doesn’t say anything suggestive about him).

Rah pointed a thumb towards the lounge. His left forearm sported that odd gauntlet he had worn back when Aden came to apologize to him, and with a bit more scrutiny, he could see clips and combs tucked into the layered leather. "I’m going to get myself something to drink. Want anything?"

Aden barely looked up from where he snapped his lens onto his camera. "Uh, I guess I’ll take some water, please."

"Hm, I’ll be right back."

While Rah busied himself with getting their refreshments, Aden took some time to mentally prepare for the scene he would walk into once they reached the den. After his research on predicament bondage, he’s ready for just about anything with the barber. If Rah’s partial to this, who’s to say he’s not into some even weirder, harder stuff? Here’s to hoping the guy isn’t into ur-

Aden glanced up momentarily as he stood with his camera, irises flicking to the light catching on a glassy surface.

By the window where the waiting area and its couches were, there on the wall, were some framed pictures of hairstyles, as well as some photos he recognized from Cathairsis’ website. Among them though, one piece stood out in stark difference.

An official diploma, Aden realized. He’d never much paid attention to this display, but there it was. Stamped, ornate, with the date and school name on it. The certificate was from a barbering school in Montreal, no doubt belonging to Rah, but…he furrowed his brows. The unusual name on the certificate had "Ron" as his first name and…what is that middle name?

Heavy steps came from the lounge. "Here’s your water."

Startled from his musings, Aden glanced at Rah and absentmindedly took the offered bottle. His eyes went back to the certificate as his fingers fidgeted with the cap.

From his periphery, he saw Rah’s face morph into a worried expression. "Is everything okay?"

All the questions pertaining to Rah surfaced at once in his mind, and this time, Aden couldn’t stop the inquiries. "Yeah, I just, was wondering about your name." He pointed to the diploma, watched brown eyes follow his finger. "It’s different from what you usually use, so…" He trailed off. Maybe he shouldn’t ask. He’s not supposed to get involved in his clients’ personal lives after all.

But Rah only sighed, a rueful smile tugging at his lips as he crossed his arms. He tilted his head towards the floor, some loose black hair falling to the side of his face. Was…was Rah shy about this?

Slowly, he imparted the truth, "It’s my legal name, actually, but I never use Ron when talking to anybody." He lifted his eyes back up to look into Aden’s own, "And my real name tends to get butchered by everyone else, so I use Rah. Not like anyone can pronounce-"

Aden’s mind nor his ears kept up with the pronunciation of Rah’s true name, but then, everything started to click. The facial features, the long black hair, tan skin, the beaded jewelry, the little accent hidden in Rah’s smooth speech, and now his name…

He’s too curious not to ask, "What, is that- are you indigenous?"

Rah nodded, unfazed. "Mohawk, specifically."

Disregarding his own advice to butt out of Rah’s personal life, Aden flicked his eyes back and forth between the name on the certificate and the barber’s form beside him. "Can you…can you repeat your name?"

Brief shock flashed across Rah’s features, but then he snorted, his smug, boyish grin splitting his face as he turned towards the lounge, "I’d stick to ‘Rah’ if I were you."

That son of a-

No, he’s probably right. Aden could barely manage the dreadful French classes back in high school; what’s to say he’s going to have an easier time with Rah’s complicated Mohawk name? What was with those odd ‘R’ sounds that rolled off his tongue like an ‘L’? Even trying to repeat the name in his head proved fruitless.

So what? None of this is important to the photography session. Still, his eyes lingered on the certificate, irises focused less on the Mohawk part of Rah’s name.

He stared at it. For how long…he isn’t entirely sure.

Ron.

It’s so familiar. Or perhaps ordinary would be the right word. No. No, it wasn’t that. Maybe it’s just that Rah having such a boring old English name didn’t suit him. He probably doesn’t like it, if his refusal to use it was any indicator. He couldn’t assume that though, could he? But that’s the feeling he had, either way. It could be for some other reason. Maybe he doesn’t want people to associate his full name with the taboo parts of Cathairsis?

Then why put the certificate up at all? More importantly, why couldn’t he let the matter go?

Ron.

"Aden, are you ready?"

He shook his head, hair brushing over his shoulder as he did. He caught his reflection in the mirror; damn, he forgot to shave again. "Yeah, I’m coming."

He left the matter of Rah’s name aside for now, and followed the barber down into the den.

The noise from the dungeon became louder as Aden stepped off the last stair and watched Rah prowl towards the right side of the room, long braid swaying behind him. Loud panting, grunting and growling, whining, metal clinking softly together, all of these worked together to create a quiet cacophony that drew Aden’s honeyed irises towards their source.

In his mind, he could still hear that frightening definition:

‘Predicament bondage is a form of bondage…’

There Emiliano stood, kneeling and bound.

‘…in which a person is restrained…’

"Dios mío, there you are! Hijo d-de la chingada, you left me here, you evil, conniving- Agh!"

‘…and forced to experience opposing sensory forces.’

Breathe. Once. Twice. Thrice.

Rah laughed low and soft. A shiver raced up Aden’s spine, cold and hot all at once, and entirely unwelcome.

Before him, Rah had put Emiliano in a position which would make even the biggest, strongest men squirm in discomfort.

The young man - cursing Rah with a strained laugh - had his wrists tied together above his head, black rope secured to a sturdy steel anchor point in the ceiling above them. Around his neck was a spiked black collar with a large metal ring. Those were the tamest things Aden could name. Everything else was so far beyond his experience he had trouble putting names or words to what he was seeing.

On a lightly freckled, tan chest, Emiliano’s dark nipples jumped out at him; shining hoops of silver jewelry speared through them, sensitive skin pulled upwards by a thin, glinting chain attached to another anchor. His head thrashed, thick black hair tied back in a loop, tugged by another rope, attached to another steel hoop up above. And there, on the same anchor where his hands were tied, another rope, this one pulling at a harness around his midriff where-

Holy s**t. What sort of metal abomination was that? A large hook? Its curved end disappeared inside poor Emiliano’s ass, rounded cheeks clenching around the thing. Worse still, was what his eyes found further down.

His mouth was running before he could stop himself, voice shaking with effort to remain steady. "What is- what is that?"

Rah, smirking from where he stood beside him, followed his eyes. "That’s a-"

"A humbler! Verga!" Emiliano flexed his hips forward, the whole setup clinking and straining with his jerky movements. "Also, hi, nice to meet ya Aden- ay, s**t, s**t."

Two curved, polished, hinged pieces of black-painted wood shut together; they pulled Emiliano’s testicles behind him and fit snuggly to his thighs. To add insult to injury, on either end of the "humbler", carabiners had been attached to the rings there, and, on the cuffs around the man’s ankles, tying the thing to his feet.

"Thank you, Emil," Rah stated irritably, shrugging his shoulders apologetically at the photographer. "I thought I said you weren’t allowed to address our guest unless I permitted it, but I guess I have to say it again. Now be silent or I’ll gag you and do something far worse than give you a warning."

Emiliano laughed, but he groaned in pain all the same. "Mierda, okay, I’m sorry Master, I’ll be so good, you won’t believe it, I’ll be such a good slut and I’ll shut up for you now-ow-ow-ow!"

Aden watched in horror as Rah pulled another chain, one he hadn’t noticed until now. At the tip of Emiliano’s - somehow very erect - dick was a Prince Albert piercing, and its closed ring had been given the same treatment as his nipple rings. Rah pulled the small chain, tugging his boy’s cock forward in a manner that had to be most agonizing for the guy.

Emiliano squirmed and screamed at the sensation, all while Rah held the chain between thumb and index, a sinister grin darkening his features. "Be silent, slut."

Whining, Emiliano did as best as he could to keep his mouth shut. At last, his Master released the chain, and he groaned in relief. Relief that could not last long with this torture setup.

"As Emil was saying," Rah said then and tapped the wooden contraption on his boy’s balls, making him flinch, "This is a humbler. I’m sure you can see why it’s called that."

He could, unfortunately, but while it must hurt on its own, the true devil here was the placement of each element of this predicament bondage. If Emiliano so much as moved his feet forward, let’s say, to relieve the pull of that hook in his ass by kneeling up, the carabiners tying his cuffs to the humbler would pull his balls painfully. But then, moving up would pull the chain on his dick, where it was attached to the floor, and that’s no better. Going back down, his nipples and head get tugged on, the hook digs further in. Wriggle around too much, and everything might hurt. Don’t move at all, and muscle fatigue will burn through every one of his limbs.

Any movement to relieve one kind of pain brings agony somewhere else, without any hope of escape.

The weight of his camera around his neck suddenly came back to him, and Aden reminded himself why he was here. He could forgive Emiliano and Rah for, once again, pulling him into this scene more than necessary, but still, it was with great hesitancy that he asked, "Did you, uh, want me to…"

Rah took note of the way his fingers drummed against his camera. He glanced at his struggling sub for a moment. Then, "No. I just thought you might like to see some of the harder stuff I do with someone who enjoys it." Implying what, exactly? That Aden would be uneasy with someone who shows discomfort - more than what Emiliano is showing? "Besides, he hasn’t signed the-"

"Agh! Ah…" the young man caught Aden’s attention again. He rocked back and forth on one foot while kneeling, balls pulling taut, then loose, taut, loose, taut, loose…

"Enjoying yourself, slut?" Rah snarked as he leaned his weight on one leg.

Brown eyes on par with his Master’s own gave a deadly, but somewhat amused glare. "Is-is that a rhetorical question, Rah?"

The barber snorted, smirking, "Bold of you to call your Master by his name while unable to stop him from tormenting you further."

Emiliano made the very mature response of sticking his tongue out from his pierced lips. Rah, completely out of character for him, copied the childish behavior.

Allowing Aden to see the pretty, shiny black ball nestled in the dip of his tongue.

‘Now that must feel pretty f***ing go-’ NO. He would not indulge that thought. He was, however, intrigued by Rah’s behavior. Emiliano and him seem to be having a great time, poking fun at each other even in this unorthodox context. Once more, the photographer marvelled that such a side to Rah could be coaxed out, but glimpses of this carefree, if not a little sinister part of him had already broken through the surface of his Master persona before. Once with Lucas, when he’d turned him towards the mirror gleefully, and again with Keiji, indulging him in his translation antics.

While Emiliano kept struggling in his binds, Aden took a moment to observe his features, committing them to the same scrutiny he would give every one of his clients. Rah and Emiliano proved to be similar in some ways; same long dark hair (though Emiliano’s was much thicker and wavier), tan skin, dark eyes, and piercings. While the barber has many of his own, his submissive had them scattered all over his body: snakebites, brow piercings, stretched lobes, a stud on his nostril, a septum piercing, just to name a few that adorned his face. He also sported a tattoo of some sort on his right shoulder, but he couldn’t make it out all the way.

Aden could confidently say that Emiliano and him were probably closely matched in the height and weight department, even while the guy was crouched down like this. It made him uncomfortable to know that, perhaps because if his mind ventured too deeply down the fantasizing route, he could almost begin to imagine the pain Emiliano felt, how he would become aware of his body’s own mass being held in place by a rope around his hair.

What was he doing still standing here? He should go to the barbering station and wait for-

His eyes searched for the wooden stool as he walked towards the leather chair, but it was nowhere to be found. In its place however, was an ergonomic rolling chair, backrest and all, just small enough to maneuver easily around the den.

Aden flicked his head towards Rah, who was busy taunting his boy. Something foreign built in his chest. Had Rah…purchased a new chair…for him?

There was no way. Aden had seen rolling stools up in the barbershop; maybe Rah had just replaced some of them with these? Or maybe the wooden seat didn’t fit with the man’s doom-and-gloom aesthetic and he decided something more fitting was in order. Whatever it was, Aden refused to believe he had anything to do with the change.

"Ah Dios! Stop, stop, stop, oh f***- Voy a morir! You’re g-going to kill me!"

Aden’s train of thought derailed. Rah stopped his movement - tickling his sub’s abdomen - and straightened. "Emil, if I wanted to kill you, I’d have shaved your head on day one."

The young man’s eyes became comically large at the statement, and he babbled, "Hey, hey, hey, you-you’re not going to do that now are you?"

"What? Shave your head?" Rah smirked, raising a brow.

"Y-yeah…"

His smile widened. "Why? Wouldn’t it be exciting?"

Emiliano blushed hard, panicking and laughing all at once as he struggled in his binds, "Rah, Cristo- Master, don’t you dare say that!"

"But it would be, wouldn’t it?" Rah continued to taunt as he knelt in front of his boy and slowly caressed his cheeks, "Just imagine. I could leave you like this and walk up to the counter-"

"Oh God-"

Tan hands ventured to the thicket of dark locks, untying them from the rope, "I could grab my big Oster seventy-sixer-"

Emil was red by now, "Sto-op!"

"And I could just…" Rah clicked his tongue, ran his hands from Emiliano’s forehead, all the way back through his hair, and leaned in to his ear, "Bzzzzz…"

"Ha, ha, hahaha!" Rah’s sub was shaking so bad every bit of his bondage setup jingled. "You’re a piece of sh-" Rah gave him a warning look, and immediately, Emiliano reiterated, "sh-sh-sugar."

His Master sniffed. "You wish I was that sweet."

Aden finished setting up his camera on his tripod, and leaned back, side-eyeing what Rah and his boy were going to do next, fingers restlessly tapping his water bottle.

Emiliano gulped. "You’re not going to do that for real are y-you?"

Rah was silent. His eyes stared deeply into Emiliano’s own, and it was all the guy could do not to squirm under that insistent gaze. Perhaps too conscious of his request, or his vulnerability, Aden observed him lower his head.

His Master slipped his fingers in the loop on his collar, pulling his face back up to his.

Unfathomably long seconds spent staring at his sub.

Finally, "Your hair is too nice for me to shave all of it off."

The double-meaning became apparent to Emiliano quickly, who began to quickly ramble, "Hey, w-wait a minute, I-I’m really fine with the way my hair is now, so I don’t think there’s any need to chan-ange it-!"

Aden’s entire body flinched and his ass clenched despite himself. Emiliano’s desperate talk morphed into pained groans as soon as Rah pulled the rope attached to his anal hook. He stopped after a few seconds and gave his boy a moment to catch his breath.

"Let me ask you something my little pain slut," Rah started curiously, the key on his necklace glinting as he tilts his head, "Why do you like suspension? Hm? Or sounding? Why do you like predicament bondage? Why do you like getting piercings and tattoos and wearing a cock cage?"

‘A what now?’ Aden’s mind interjected.

Emiliano panted and readjusted his position as much a he could with Rah still holding on to his collar. "Because- agh…because the discomfort makes the pleasure s-so much better after…"

"Hm…" Rah ran his thumb over Emiliano’s trembling lower lip. "Well, you seem all too comfortable under that mop of hair, don’t you think?"

As Rah’s sub struggled to put the pieces together, Aden couldn’t help but remember exactly what the barber was going to do to Emiliano. Looking at the guy now, it was obvious why Rah wanted to change his style to a-

"O-oh hijo de pu…" Emiliano groaned, growled, hissed in the same breath, "Don’t use my words against me."

"I will do whatever I. So. Please." He punctuated his last three syllables with small condescending slaps to his boy’s shocked face. "Besides," he lilted, "a guy like you, always seeking new, out of the ordinary experiences…shouldn’t you reflect your tastes in the way you look too?" He got closer, tugged more on his spiked collar, "A haircut can be just as uncomfortable as a humbler, so why don’t you sit and see what kind of pleasant experience comes out of it?"

"I can’t s-sit if you don’t let me out of this position!"

Aden startled as Rah laughed and stood up. He taped his forehead, "Of course! Silly me, why didn’t I think about that? You would think that-"

Funnily, Rah wasn’t untying his submissive, but walked towards the barbering station with Emiliano glaring scared holes in his back.

"-after so many sessions together I would remember to untie you-"

Aden’s eyes widened, but not quite as much as Emiliano’s own when Rah picked up his batter-powered Oster’s and made his way back to his struggling sub.

"-when I’m through with you."

Snap, hum. That damn deafening mechanical purr echoed in the walls of the den, and Emiliano’s squirming increased, metal chiming against metal, feet creasing the anti-slip mats, rope creaking against the weight of a fully-grown adult male thrashing against them.

"Dios santo, M-Master! W-wait, don’t, I’m not ready-!"

Unable to turn away, Aden felt his heart stutter when, without a single ounce of hesitation, Rah yanked Emiliano’s head to the side and shaved his hair.

The clippers whirred ferociously, struggling against the thick mass of locks, but there was no stopping Rah: he buzzed a path from his boy’s neck to behind his ear.

And smiled the whole time.

A moan ripped from Emiliano’s throat despite the carnage Rah had just unleashed on him, soon followed by a click as the barber turned his clippers off. His boy panted, eyes staying closed while the barber kept his head still with the hand buried in his untouched mane.

Honeyed irises followed the severed locks slide off their owner’s shoulder slowly, delicately, watched the black hair pool to the ground, catch on the humbler, stick to perspiring skin.

That odd, burning sensation he had back in his car, it took hold of him. But it was different now.

A strained laugh pulled him out of his thoughts, coming from Emiliano. "Ha…why’d you do that?"

Rah’s soft voice came off so much more menacing when he laughed. He tightened his fist in his boy’s hair, "Because I wasn’t going to let your squirm your way out of this one. With this," he caressed the buzzed patch of hair, "you’re committed to whatever I have in store for you."

Aden thought he saw annoyance flash in Emiliano’s eyes, but the man just sighed. "Fair enough…"

"Now…" Rah grabbed Emiliano by the chin and gazed down at him with a sneer. "I think there’s something you want to say, slut."

A resigned look crossed the young man’s face. He gnawed his snakebites, hands flexing above his head where they were tied. "Would Master please release me…?"

Silent, Rah raised a single, unconvinced brow.

Though Aden didn’t understand what the look meant, Emiliano certainly did, and added, begrudgingly, "…so I can sit in the chair."

"Which chair?"

Emiliano scowled at the s**t-eating grin on his Master’s face, but reiterated, much more quietly, "The bar…b-barber chair."

"Hm, good slut."

Satisfied, Rah began to release his sub from his terrible predicament, starting, mercifully, with the humbler. The young man groaned loudly when his balls were free at last and his feet free to move around. Aden could not, however, watch when Rah removed the anal hook; just hearing his boy’s noises was enough to turn his stomach and knot his loins in a most unwelcome way.

"Is your back sore?" Rah asked as he tossed the piercing chains aside.

Aden’s eyes flicked back to the scene, just in time to see the barber untie the rope around Emiliano’s wrists. "Not so bad, surprisingly. Thank f*** for P.T."

P.T? Physical therapy? It would explain why Rah asked about his back.

At last free to move around, Emiliano sat cross-legged on the floor, hand rubbing his sternum. Aden made out the tattoo on his left arm: a skull and green snake on red roses. Rah walked over to the low table by the couches, retrieving a water bottle and something else. He twisted the cap and handed it to his boy. "Catch your breath and drink for me. Strawberry or peach?"

What did he mean by that odd inquiry? Emiliano gulped some water, and all at once, Aden was reminded of his own bottle, untouched in his hands.

Hands that were crisped so hard around it that the plastic had warped.

Unnerved, he stared at the wrinkles.

At the way his fingers trembled.

Ignore. Ignore, ignore, ignore, ignore. Take a long drink, think of something else, anything else, but the water did little to quench his sudden thirst.

"Peach, come on man, those are the best ones!"

A genuine laugh came from Rah this time. "Alright, come on, eat up and wipe the hair off your arm."

Refocused, Aden finally understood what Rah was talking about: Emiliano took the offered gummy candy in his Master’s hand and popped it in his mouth. "You’re the barber; shouldn’t you dust the hair off of me?"

Rah waved his clipper in front of his sub’s nervous face. "Are you forgetting that I still have this in my hand?"

"…No."

"Good. Now, your Master gave you an order. When you’re done, come over to the chair and we can have you sign the consent form for Aden."

The consent form! Aden quickly got out of his seat and rummaged through his bag for it. Behind him, Rah’s heavy footsteps announced his approach, and they stopped right behind him.

While he continued to rummage through his bag, Rah placed his clipper on the counter and spoke up quietly, "I had to move the lights around a bit to clean the den. Are they still okay where they are? I did put some tape where the legs were so I could put everything back the way you’d placed everything."

He had? Aden stood from his crouched position with the form and pen in hand, eyes scanning the portable lights and reflectors around the devil’s barber chair. Aware of Rah’s eyes following his every move, the photographer walked around to inspect the placement. Pieces of black painter’s tape peeked out from under the frames, one for each leg. On both lights. He pursed his lips.

Turning the lights on, he admitted, "If you hadn’t said anything, I wouldn’t have noticed."

At Rah’s silence, Aden turned to regard him with a raised brow. An unreadable expression passed briefly over the man’s face. Those dark eyes narrowed with an emotion Aden couldn’t name.

"Good. Wonderful…"

Something in the delivery of that line made a paranoid shiver course up his spine. "What’s so-"

"Master."

Aden and Rah turned to a (still very naked) Emiliano. The photographer rubbed his nape awkwardly as he went to sit behind his camera and Rah took the form and pen from him, patting his boy’s shoulder.

"Read and sign it."

"I got the jist of it- ah-ah!"

Aden pretended he didn’t see the way Rah grabbed his boy’s already sensitive balls in his unyielding hold. "Less talking, more listening."

Panting, "Yes M-Master, okay…Fu…" the fist around his sac retreated.

Silence engulfed the den after, but perhaps impatient with how long his sub was taking, Rah began to tap his boot against the floor and Emiliano flinched. Aden couldn’t help but be impressed every time it happened, how, without saying a single word, Rah could cause such distress in his partners’ hearts.

Then again, he’d been on the receiving end of Rah’s silent judgment before.

He licked his lips restlessly. ‘You should find someone to f*** tomorrow. F***ing would be great right now. That way you wouldn’t have to use your-’ Sighing hard, Aden fidgeted with the ring around his thumb. It’s not the time to think about that. But how could he not? Hell, Emiliano was strutting around naked without a care in front of him and Rah was half-naked himself and nothing going on right now could be considered innocent, chaste, Christian actions.

Rustling paper. Aden lifted his face up, met with Rah’s hand, holding the signed papers out to him with his pen. Deciding against looking at the barber’s eyes, he took them in silence and stowed them away.

As he sat back, fingers at the ready on his camera, Rah voiced his command, slow and non-debatable.

But it wasn’t the command Aden thought he would say:

"Bend over the counter…and put your ass out."

XXXXX

Continued in part eleven

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