Ties That Bind (Student Bodies #6)

By: Pandora Pine

For all of my writing friends and the deep ties that bind us together.





1


“I still can’t believe I let you talk me into coming here,” Hank Ellsworth grumped. Here, was the ballroom of the Brattleboro Sheraton Hotel in southern Vermont.

“You said you were interested in submission and bondage. What better place for you to get a taste of it than at a BSDM Convention?” Cannon Sommers asked, wrapping his arm around Hank’s shoulder.

“Who knew kinksters had conventions?” Hank sighed. On the one hand he wanted to learn more about submission and bondage, but on the other, he was sure he’d die of embarrassment before he learned anything useful.

“Well if comic book geeks and Trekkies can do it, why not people of kink?” Morgan St. James added with a grin.

“People of kink?” Cannon burst out laughing.

Morgan shrugged his shoulders and consulted his worn map of the convention floor. “Edison’s demonstration starts in about fifteen minutes. We should start heading that way so we get a front row seat.”

It’s now or never. Hank sighed and allowed his friends to lead him off toward the demonstration. Hank had met Morgan a few months back at the Mendon Zoo. One of the perks of being a pre-vet major at UMass was the intern program with the zoo. Hank spent the summer working with the giraffes and had met Morgan, his now fiancée, Wentworth Langston, and Went’s adorable little boy, Nate, when they attended a giraffe encounter he was running back in June.

Over the last two months, Hank had started spending time with Morgan and his circle of friends who all happened to be submissive in one form or another. He had always been curious about submission and nothing got his cock harder than the thought of being tied up and at his Master’s mercy, but he had always been too shy to explore kink outside the safety of his computer screen. Thanks to his new friends he was gaining the confidence in himself needed to push his boundaries.

“Remind me again how you know this Edison?” Hank was trying and failing to keep the nerves out of his voice.

“Being a pre-vet major, I’m surprised you don’t know him, cowboy.” Cannon grinned. “Edison Smithfield is the owner of the animal shelter Morgan and I volunteer at on weekends, Pets For People.”

“He’s also a big animal vet who works with the local farmers. In addition to all that, he teaches a few husbandry classes at UMass,” Morgan added.

“Oh, that’s right. I’ve heard his name, but haven’t met him. He teaches a hands-on lab class with farm animals. It’s a senior level course which is why I don’t know Professor Smithfield, yet.” Not knowing the professor would change soon, if he knew his boisterous friends.

Once they found out he was kink-curious the news spread like wildfire among their friends and their respective Doms and Masters. Over the last few weeks each of the boys had him over for dinner and some gentle grilling by their men. He’d had the overwhelming feeling for days now that attending the convention was just an easy way to smooth Hank’s entrance into BDSM and meeting Edison was a set-up. A kinky blind date of sorts.

“Here it is.” Morgan pointed to a group of gun-metal grey folding chairs setup around a small platform and what looked like a giant letter “X.”

Hank felt rooted to the spot. If he had a nickel for every time he shot a load over the idea of being bound to a St. Andrew’s cross, he’d be a millionaire. “C-Can I touch it?”

Morgan looked at Cannon who shrugged, grinning from ear-to-ear. “Sure, why not.”

Ignoring his instinct to sit down and keep quiet, he steeled his courage and stepped up to the cross, running a hand down the cold, but smooth finish of the wood. It seemed to be made of some dark hardwood like mahogany.

It was easy to see a lot of love and dedication went into the construction of the cross. Not wanting to get caught touching another man’s wood without asking permission, Hank stepped away and took the seat between his friends.



“Good afternoon ladies and gentleman. My name is Edison, but all of the subs will call me my lord, understood?”

“Yes, my lord,” the submissives in the audience chorused.

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