Nic had completed his years of Service and was now a wealthy independent marked man. He had grand plans to re-invent the take The Service had on delivering sex to non-marked men. He bought an old theater in Nashville and refurbished it into a sex club with live shows and Master-Servant experiences. It became apparent quickly that the theater was haunted and dangerous, but Nic felt safer there than anywhere. The day before the Grand Opening, Nic appealed to the ghost for a safe performance. He received a reply, but wasn’t sure if his deal was accepted or not. The opening goes off without a hitch. He begins to feel a pull towards the Phantom that was unlike any he had ever felt before. Together they seek answers to questions that are only found when Nic gives up total control to the Phantom.
Part of a text string between Nic Netus and his former Master, Robert Ballentyne that took place on the night of April 20, 2018.
Robert, I just wanted to remind you that I’m flying out tonight
Where are you going again?
Nashville
Oh, that’s right. Going to go see about buying a theater there?
Yes. How’s your leg? Did you go back to see the doctor again?
Don’t fuss over me. You make me feel old…
How is it?!?!
It’s fine. Doesn’t hardly hurt.
Nonsense
I don’t want you thinking of your former Master as a feeble old man.
I don’t. I think of you as a powerful man with an incredible set of connections that has paved the way to making my future plans possible! And one of my best friends…
Hmmm…that’s better than old and feeble.
Haha!
Be careful. I worry about your safety.
Don’t worry. I’ve already hired a body guard to protect me while I am there.
You better let him fuck you once you arrive. He will want to protect you even more if he knows what you have to offer!
Not a bad idea…
* * * *
I had given up on sex.
I mean, I still had sex—quite a lot of it actually, but I had given up on the idea of it. Now, in my head it was just what it was—an extremely pleasurable act between two consenting adults. But I no longer thought of it as this momentous, life-changing act that could make me fall in love with the man sticking it in me.
It was the thrill of the chase that turned me on, almost as much as the sex did. A lot of times, I found myself disappointed with the man whom I had pursued, once I had his clothes off. But, fortunately for me, there were a lot of men out there to choose from, and the very next one would soon take his place.
I was a marked man in a world full of non-marked men. In our world, men who received a blue mark on their faces at the age of thirteen were labeled as men who were sexually attracted to other men. Our world contained no women, so I had a very unfair advantage attracting NOMARs, like shooting fish in a barrel. Being marked was very rare, while being non-marked, or NOMAR, was extremely common, so I had no problem at all in finding man after man who wanted to fuck me.
I had put all of my hopes on falling in love when I entered The Service. They almost immediately called me to Service. They had found a rich NOMAR to be my Master and I wanted him to be the lover I had always dreamed about. Robert turned out to be more of a friend than the love of my life. I enjoyed his company, learned a whole lot from him, and made a lot of money from him, but I did not love him.
I was still young, good-looking and now, thanks to multiple years in The Service, I was also very rich. My life was a blank canvas spread out in front of me just waiting to be painted. And that canvas today was in Nashville, Tennessee, where I had decided to open up my new business.
The car in which I found myself riding through Nashville, pulled over to the curb in front of an old stately theater. I looked out of the car window up at the building and looked up and down the street in each direction. The edifice was unique and spectacular. The neighborhood was not so regal, but it definitely had potential.
Once satisfied, I turned to my companion riding in the back seat with me. “Looks safe enough.”
“It’s not a bad neighborhood,” the big man beside me answered. “It’s just fallen on hard times.”
“Well, let’s see what we can do to help them out.” I watched as a skinny marked man exited a Mercedes sedan in front of us and walked back to stand by my car door. He waved at us through the windows of our rented car. He was wearing an expensive suit that fit him well and I really liked his Italian loafers.
I opened the door, squeezed my six-foot-three-inch frame out of the door, and straightened out until I was standing at my tallest on the sidewalk. Taking great enjoyment from the widening of the skinny guy’s eyes, I held out my hand to him.
“Alexander?” I asked as I closed the gap between us with my hand still raised.
He took my hand and said, “Yes, that’s me. And you must be Mr. Nicolea Netus. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Netus.”
“Please call me Nic.” I could tell from his voice that he was excited. As all marked men do when we so rarely run into another one of our own, we each took a few seconds to study the other’s mark. Marks always appeared on the faces of each marked man on the exact moment of his thirteenth birthday. Each mark was as unique as a fingerprint.
Alexander’s mark was light and thin, just like him―a muted blue line that ran from the bottom of his left earlobe almost to his jaw. It stood in sharp contrast to mine. Having studied mine so many times in the mirror, I knew it to be electric blue in color, thick with jagged lines resembling flames, and running from my left earlobe all the way to the middle of my chin.
My riding companion had exited the car and was now standing beside me. “This is Bobby, my bodyguard for the day.”
Alexander shook hands with the big man beside me and said, “And this is the Madsen Theater.” He presented it with a half-turn and a raised arm like he was a model on The Price Is Right.
