Hanging Around

98

Starsky, as Hutch’s Master, has some new techniques to show Hutch in this story in text and pictures, using the Starsky and Hutch dolls as models.

 

Originally published in the SHareCon 2016 zine.

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“Hey, babe. Did you have a good meeting?” Hutch was always eager to know what Starsky and the other Masters had been doing at their monthly get together.

“Tsk, tsk. Nosy, ain’t ya, partner?” Starsky hugged Hutch. “Matter of fact,” he whispered in Hutch’s ear, “Lead Master has some new stuff for us to check out.”

Hutch’s belly fluttered. He loved it when Starsky came home with the latest equipment and toys for them to use in their sessions. As the Deputy Master, Starsky got his pick of whatever the Lead Master had just perfected. “Show me,” he begged shamelessly.

Starsky chuckled and disappeared back the way he had just come.

Hutch stared at the chains draped around Starsky’s neck and the leather harness slung over his arm like a lady’s handbag. “That looks like some sort of body wear to me, a harness, maybe?”

“Got it in one, Sherlock.” Starsky grinned. “You wanna be Louise?”

“Huh?”

“Guinea pig, dummy!” Starsky winked. “We got a week to play, then we unveil this little beauty to the members at the next show.”

Hutch would have balked at that statement a few years ago, but he’d gotten used to Starsky’s showmanship. And, these days, he did what any good slave would do, obey his Master. Most of the time. The club was exclusive, and every member had been investigated before they were able to join.

“Leave your briefs on for now. I’m not sure if the straps will chafe.” Starsky buckled Hutch into the heavy duty harness.

It felt slightly cumbersome, but the weight was very comforting. It had to support him, after all. “What’s with the blue butterfly on the front?” The embellishment seemed a little weird on such a masculine contraption.

“Mindy thought it matched your eyes,” Starsky laughed. “And I agree.” Mindy was the Lead Master’s slave, and the co-designer and maker of many of his products. She also knew that Starsky and Hutch were game to try anything in their play. Starsky slapped Hutch’s butt. “Off to the dungeon with you, slave.”

The dungeon was a secret room in the wine barn of their Napa Valley vineyard home, or rather second home. Hutch’s grandfather had left it to him. The day of Gramps’ death was when Hutch had told Starsky that his grandfather’s farm was actually a vineyard with livestock. His Gramps always said to him, “It’s all yours, Kenny. Says so in my will.” Hutch didn’t want Starsky finding out on the day of the reading.

Hutch led the way through the connecting hallway and myriad wine racks that were now empty of the wine they once held. The wine making process had ceased a few years ago, when his Gramps’ got ill.

He opened the door to the dungeon; the light behind him flooded the space, bouncing off the large metal and crystal sculpture that Hutch had made his Grandmother when he turned twelve. Gramps helped him make the giant hanging ornament. Grandmother had said it was her biggest treasure and she hung it from the ceiling of the room where Gramps kept his expensive wine collection.

Hutch knew that hook would hold his weight; they’d used it many times.

With the chains fastened around the harness, Starsky pulled Hutch up with the winch they’d added to the ceiling. He secured the chain to the hook.

The chains and harness were reassuringly strong, allowing Hutch to defy gravity and hover in mid-air, without so much as a creak or groan. Hutch did his best Superman impression.

Superman was Starsky’s favorite action hero. He’d collected every comic containing Superman stories since his pa had bought the first one when Starsky was five-years-old.

Starsky backed up a few paces. “My very own Superman,” he said, admiringly.

“But I think you’ve got far too much freedom, boy.” Starsky wrapped a chain around Hutch’s ankles, and grabbed the loose end of the suspended chain. Pushing Hutch’s feet upwards, he padlocked the chain to Hutch’s ankle chain. This tilted Hutch’s hips up and his head down.

Hutch thanked the Lord that he didn’t have a problem with heights. This was the closest he’d ever get to flying, without a plane, of course. And he was enjoying every minute of it. He closed his eyes.

“How are you doing, buddy?” Starsky said, with a tinge of concern.

Hutch opened his eyes. “Amazing,” he said. “This is the best suspension yet.”

“You look sexy up there, slave.”Starsky gently spun Hutch around. “I think we’re gonna wow them at the show.”

“Just needs one more thing.” Starsky reached up and tied a blindfold around Hutch’s eyes.

Hutch hitched in a breath. The minute everything went black, he felt disorientated. Suddenly he had no idea where in the room he was. Where Starsky was. It was very disconcerting. He hadn’t moved, Starsky hadn’t moved, but it sure felt like something had.

“Okay?” Starsky asked. His voice seemed to come from every corner of the room.

“Yep, I think so,” Hutch said, sounding unsure even to his own ears. “Just need a second. The blindfold changes all perspective up here. Master.” He felt he ought tell Starsky that. He didn’t want to worry his Master.

Starsky captured Hutch’s hand. “I’m here, boy,” he said. The strong grip grounded Hutch.

“Thank you, Master.”

Starsky kissed Hutch, long and hard. “We don’t have to do this at the show, or ever again, if you don’t want to.”

Hutch swallowed. “I do want to, Master. I know I’m safe with you. This is the most exhilarating feeling. I’m weightless, soaring through the sky, free as a bird.”

Hutch hung there, holding Starsky’s hand for a long time.

Starsky caressed his face.

Hutch felt the odd tickle and pull, swinging from side to side when Starsky checked the equipment, and Hutch’s skin.

“Just making sure that this ain’t digging into your body,” he said.

“I think it’s time to get you down, boy.” Starsky grasped Hutch’s ankle, stopping him swinging, and then released his feet, rubbing gently where the chains had been.

Pins and needles assaulted Hutch’s feet.

“I’ll lower you down until you can stand.”

It was strange, not being able to see where the floor was. Hutch circled his feet, desperately trying to get feeling back into them before he landed. Cold wood kissed his toes. He floundered a little.

“It’s okay. I got ya.” Starsky’s strong arms steadied him as he struggled to stay upright. Starsky quickly yanked the chains from the harness, and they landed in a heap on the floor.

“Ummpf,” The shock of hitting the floor knocked the breath out of Hutch.

Starsky whipped off the blindfold and pulled Hutch into him. He cradled Hutch’s head. “Lie still, get your bearings. Drink this.” He held a glass of water to Hutch’s lips, taking it away only when Hutch had had his fill.

“Thank you, Master.

They stayed in that position, Hutch dozing fitfully for a while. Warmth enveloped him in the form of his Master.