An erotic novel by Alcamia Payne with gay and BDSM themes.
Tristan is the modern day slave of Astor, master of the clandestine slave circle called the jeu. Astor is intent on cleansing the jeu of its corrupt masters while fighting the demons of his past. Konstantine is the ancient slave of Abarak. Taken captive during the Crusades, his mind is opened to a panorama of bondage and sexual delight in pursuit of a dream of ancient spiritual bliss. Tristan is gradually succeeding in thawing ice-cold Astor, who he loves devotedly. Master and slave embark on a journey to the birthplace of the jeu where they reconnect to its mysterious roots. However, Tristan is coveted by twisted rival master Jummal, who will stop at nothing to procure him. Tortuous days lie ahead for master and slave as Astor fights to retain his hold on the jeu and Tristan is taken hostage by a man sexually darker than he could ever imagine.
The plane had crossed the border some time ago en route to Jummal’s home. Getting to his feet, Tristan wandered over to one of the plush, custom-made seats and sat down next to his master. Astor’s fingers closed over his hand and Tristan experienced a familiar warm pulse as he realised that soon, and if things went according to plan, he would be wearing Astor’s family ring.
‘Remember what I told you? You must be exceedingly careful with Jummal. It’s inevitable he’ll make a play for you since, like Richter, he’ll already have found out as much about you as he can.’ Noting Tristan’s look of consternation, Astor grinned. ‘Maybe I should be worried, hein?’ The “hein” was a particular affectation of his. Astor had not lost his sexy French accent, which was the inheritance of his corrupt mother, Lutine Semarre. He caressed Tristan’s cheek. ‘It’ll be an interesting diversion for you seeing how Jummal lives. You’ve met Richter Gruber, now you must get acquainted with the jaundiced brotherhood.’
Astor began loosening Tristan’s shirt and teasing his fingers between the buttons, teasing his nipples into erect nubs. Astor had two distinct, complex personalities which he could switch on and off at will, and you never knew which you would be presented with: the tender lover or the increasingly harsh master. Tristan hadn’t realised how much he’d enjoy being under a man’s control and how quickly and easily he’d become Astor’s toy. Like any submissive faced with temptation, he was weakening as the dark and seductive side of the jeu relentlessly nibbled away at him.
Astor’s hand slithered down to his crotch as he gently feathered his balls. Tristan was fully in control of his bodily responses today, though. Astor snapped open his attaché case, taking out a length of silken rope. This was another of his areas of expertise. He was an expert in Shibari and had been trained by a Japanese bondage master. By this time, Tristan had endured every kind of rope trick and he dared not give any indication of how much he enjoyed it. Shibari was an art form not just in the way the master used intricate tricks to tie his slaves, but in the different textures and types of rope he used, each of which had its unique advantage, from the soft silk he passed between his hands to rough hemp.
As always when faced with the prospect of visiting another master, Astor seemed to have to demonstrate his power and ownership with sexier roleplay. Perhaps it was fear or a need to exert his dominance. Lately, Tristan was sure he had detected weaknesses in Astor’s character but it was difficult to be certain. So much of this lifestyle was still so alien. He shot a glance at his master and felt the warm flush of love. The love he had for Astor had quickly grown out of control and was unlike anything he’d ever felt for his wife, Amanda. A man of ice, wounded and scarred by the battleground of life, Astor was apparently immune to love and seemed intent on protecting the softness of his soul by surrounding it with a tough shell. Tristan was determined to crack that shell even if it took him a lifetime.
