Irish Collar #1
Twenty-two-year-old Brett Dalton awakens to find himself dumped in a cheap hotel with a strange man. During his move from Dublin to Galway, his so-called friend Sean abandons him again to fend for himself. Brett doesn't know what to do or where to go without transportation. He needs to find a job immediately.
After making a phone call to Master Cleary, the Dom he met at BDSM Camp, Brett starts hitchhiking to Cleary's Pub for a job. A torrential rainstorm completely washes out the road leading to Galway, but though London born, the luck of the Irish is with Brett and handsome, thirty-year-old Darragh McGregor offers him a ride.
These two don't know it yet, but they desperately need each other. Brett's search for a Dom has left him abused and abandoned, and Darragh is lonely and longing for a sub. They run into some bumps along the road, including the reappearance of a dangerous acquaintance, but there is nothing they can't overcome together.
Keywords: Kind Dom, Wounded sub, Light BDSM, Newfound Family, Uncovered Lies, Hurt & Comfort, New Opportunities, Irish Romance
Chapter 1 Brett
Twenty-two-year-old Brett woke up alone in a dingy hotel room. The pain in his head roared like someone had turned up the radio volume as far as it would go. Bewildering thoughts plagued him, and he could make little sense of his surroundings. His sore back throbbed from sleeping on the rickety, old mattress. He sat up slowly, remembering nasty bits and pieces of the night before. With deep regret, he couldn’t recall what had gone down with Sean. He didn’t remember drinking any alcohol so where did his headache come from? Where was Sean?
His bladder was about to burst if he lingered in bed any longer. He unraveled himself from the scratchy sheets and wandered towards the bathroom. He stopped at the closed door, placed his hand on the doorknob, and lifted a brow, because when he tried to turn the doorknob, it was locked. He knocked on the door. Sean had never locked the bathroom door. Why would he lock it now?
“Hey, open up. Got to piss.” Brett tried his best to sound civil and not to shout at Sean since he’d told Brett to never order him around, but this was an emergency.
The door slowly squeaked open. Brett gasped for a moment at the naked man standing in the bathroom. The stranger had a round red face without facial hair. He was bald as a plucked chicken, but he had the deepest shade of brown eyes. For some reason, Brett couldn’t read anything from them, but he feared the stranger. Leaning into the steamy room, he checked to see if Sean was in there too, but he wasn’t. He froze in place as if a stone wall had temporarily blocked him from running. His stomach twisted into knots from instantaneous panic as they gazed at each other for a long moment. His shock and exhaustion were too deep, not allowing him to move, but he wanted to get away from the naked man who radiated power and control. All at once a sudden jolt passed through his whole being. His vision blurred, and Brett felt wrapped in a blinding white mist.
“Who are you? Where’s Sean?” Brett leaned against the door to steady himself.
“Maybe you should check with the bartender at Maggie’s Pub,” the stranger said.
Brett turned away to run, but the stranger reached out and grabbed him. Who was he? Where was Sean?
“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” the stranger asked.
“Who are you? Where is Sean?” Brett repeated.
The man squeezed his wrist causing him to wince from the pain.
“I’m Mr. Joe, the man who fucked you last night.”
“No. You’re in the wrong room. I never saw you before. Where’s Sean?”
“I want to offer you a job. Your friend said you need one.”
“Let me go now.” Brett tried to free his wrist from the man. “I don’t want to be with you now or ever. And I don’t want your job.”
“Listen up! You wanted me and begged me to come here with you. Don’t you remember?”
“Get out of my room and leave me alone or I’ll call the Garda.”
The man jerked him into the bathroom and locked the door. Brett wildly looked around for a weapon of some sort. When he didn’t see any, he stared at the man. He drew his limbs close to his body. The man was bulky enough to beat him to death. Maybe he’d keep it quiet and choke him. The circular thinking made his body tremble. Brett never took his eyes off the man while he mechanically and deliberately dressed himself in all black, hiding away the scars on Mr. Joe’s back.
“You were a lousy fuck anyway. I should have listened to your friend. He warned me you were a stupid little bitch.”
Brett didn’t believe a word the man said. “Where is Sean?”
“He left the pub with a twink. I don’t think he’ll be back for you.”
Mr. Joe unlocked the bathroom door and left the room, slamming the door.
Brett raced to the door and locked himself in. He turned to the toilet, took care of business, then took a second look at the condoms. Those condoms were from a fun pack of rainbow colors. Sean bought those rainbow condoms when they had stopped for lunch on their way to Galway. Did Mr. Joe or Sean fuck him? That would explain why he was sore. Unfortunately, the entire trip was sexless until Mr. Joe or Sean had sex with him last night.
Had Sean left the pub with a twink? Brett thought he could trust Sean to make sure he didn’t end up with a stranger, but then Sean wasn’t his Dom. He clearly, and desperately, needed one.
The spacey thinking wasn’t something he had ever experienced before, with or without alcohol. Sure, he’d had hangovers from drinking too much, but his memory had stayed intact. He vaguely remembered going to the pub with Sean. Brett promised he’d have only one beer because Sean didn’t like alcohol at all. He must have lost his mind at the pub, and he didn’t know how. Sean wouldn’t allow him to get drunk, so what had happened? He felt like he imagined he’d feel if he’d been drugged, definitely not like himself.
He left the bathroom again and searched the room to jog his memory. The dead silence in the room reminded him of other times when men had abandoned him after doing BDSM scenes at the clubs in Dublin.
Sean’s suitcase wasn’t on the table anymore. Even his own suitcase was missing. Maybe Sean had packed the car and would return with breakfast, but he had said he would stay here for a week with him to look for a job in Galway. Sean had wanted to make a change since Andy fired him too.
Brett slipped on a pair of jeans and a shirt he had in his backpack. Then he checked himself out in a mirror. He looked like shit. He opened the door and scanned the parking area for Sean’s car. It was missing as well. He went back inside, pulled out his phone, and called Sean. It went to voicemail so he left a message. “Where are you? What happened last night? I’m sorry if I did something wrong. Please forgive me. Call me.”
He sat down on the messed-up bed and again looked around the small room for his suitcase. Then he remembered he had left it in the trunk of Sean’s car and only brought his backpack to the room. All he had were the items inside his backpack. He picked up his wallet from the bedside table and opened it to see how much money he had. He gasped. All his money was gone. What the hell happened to his money? It was a good thing he still had a credit card. He quickly checked his backpack for the card. He sighed in relief when he found it and moved it into his wallet.
Brett didn’t know what to do or where he’d go. He definitely had to find a job immediately. Sean had made sure of that in his own way. Brett was somewhere between the verge of tears and anger at Sean; but none of that mattered. He had to move on without Sean’s help. Sean wasn’t his lover or Dom. He’d worn Sean’s collar for one day and he’d fucked him once. That all ended when Brett didn’t win that competition. Nobody did. The more he thought back on it, the clearer it was Sean had only given him that collar and fucked him so he would do the crazy scene at the BDSM competition.
Unfortunately, the bottom line was Sean had mattered to him. Certainly, he respected his opinion and friendship, but all that was gone. Brett wanted to strike out at someone—anyone, but there was no one to blame for this situation. He hoped at some point he’d be able to recall all the events leading up to Sean leaving with a twink and finding Mr. Joe in his room. But as he rethought his situation, he knew he would not have done anything to disrupt his friendship with Sean. If Sean would only explain why he wasn’t in their room, but that wasn’t likely since he wouldn’t answer his phone or messages.
Brett’s heart skipped a beat when someone pounded on the door. First, he checked the peephole to see who was there. When he cracked open the door, the cranky hotel manager, Charlie, stood there. His silver, curly hair hung over a wrinkled face. He had a scar reaching from the bottom of the right cheekbone, running across the nose. Brett wondered how he had gotten it, but he wasn’t pleasant to anyone. He didn’t approve of Sean and him renting a room together. He’d given them one of those looks a priest or nun would.
“You need to be out of here in fifteen minutes.” He emphasized the word fifteen by saying it louder than the other words. “Why? We paid up for a week,” Brett said. “Sean cancelled the rest of the week. He paid up until today.”
“When did he check out?” Brett asked.
“This morning around four.” The smirk on the older man’s face angered Brett. He was delighted to see a gay guy dumped. Everyone had told him the people in Galway were friendly to gay people, but not this old fart. Obviously, it didn’t apply to the surrounding areas of Galway.
“I’ll be out as soon as I can, sir.”
“Fifteen minutes or you owe for another day.”
Brett slammed the door in the manager’s face and collected his things. Without any transportation, he’d have to walk to the city. Sean had promised to drive him to Galway so they could both look for a job. Sean dumped him for whatever reason. He must have wanted to be with the new twink first, or he saw Brett with Mr. Joe. He didn’t know which happened first, not that it really mattered. Sean was gone for good. He had lost patience with him and never really gave a damn about him. Not knowing when he would see a shower again, he jumped into the one in the room and cleaned up as fast as he could. Once dressed, he put his arms through the backpack straps. He tightened the straps around his waist, then the shoulder straps.
When he figured out he was more hurt than angry at Sean, he sat down on the bed and tears filled his eyes over his current dire situation. If he could find a way to become enraged, he’d feel better, but he wasn’t prepared for Sean dumping him in a cheap hotel room. He’d wanted to teach him a lesson.
Fuck it. And fuck Sean.
With great reluctance, he left the room, and started walking towards Galway. The dense gray clouds were low and moving fast, but he didn’t think much of it. He held his thumb out, hoping for a ride. Two leather clad men rode their motorcycles alongside him. They stopped and glared at him as if he were prey. Brett lowered his arm to his side and made a swift turn into the wooded area. The two men got off their bikes and ran after him. He outran them, making it to the creek nearby, then crossed over the footbridge to the other side, and followed the path to another spiraling, narrow road. When he looked behind, they weren’t chasing him anymore. He continued to run to a dirt road. He wondered why those two guys were chasing him. He didn’t want any part of them. This was why he needed to travel with someone. Anytime he was alone, he ran into problems. That was one of the reasons he’d wanted out of Dublin. There were people who hated him there. Sean said there was a damn good reason people hated him, but he’d put it all behind him in Galway.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t much traffic, so he couldn’t hitch a ride. He didn’t mind walking, but he wanted to get there before it turned dark. If he could only find a place to eat, his pounding headache would feel better. He should have eaten before he set out. He was grateful he had water with him. It could have been worse. He would find a place to stay and use his emergency credit card. He was grateful he kept the card for emergencies; Brett always arranged an exit plan in the event he needed one. He didn’t trust anyone.
After walking for hours on the side of the country dirt road, he still hadn’t seen anything resembling a city. The huge trees swallowed him from the world. Where had he gone wrong?
He sat down and pulled out his phone. He had remembered a friendly Dom from Galway who’d told him at a BDSM camp that if he ran into trouble to call him, and he’d help him out. Luckily, he’d added Master Cleary’s information into his contacts, so he decided to call him.
“Cleary’s Pub, Master Cleary speaking.”
“Hello, this is Brett Dalton. We met at the BDSM camp.”
“I remember you, Brett. Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“Yes, sir. Some guy dumped me in a hotel, and I need a place to stay until I can find a job. Do you think you could help me?”
“Would that guy be Sean?”
“Yes, sir.” Brett had deliberately avoided telling him it was Sean, but Master Cleary was too important to him to lie when asked directly.
“I thought he collared you the last day at the camp. What happened?”
“That was only if I won at the competition. I lasted as his sub less than a day.”
“I see. You can stay at the pub. I have a room behind the bar. You can do some gardening for me until you find a proper job.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll be there tomorrow.”
“Do you need money right now? I can send you some. Where are you?”
“I was staying at Mulligan’s Hotel, but I have enough money to get there.” Brett found it difficult to seek help but asking for money before working for it was plain wrong. Master Cleary deserved more from him than begging for money he hadn’t earned.
“Just get your ass here as soon as you can.”
“I’m on a dirt country road. Will it take me to Galway?”
“What’s the name of the road?”
“North Dawson Place.”
“Keep going and you’ll be able to merge into the main road.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m glad you called me. Stay safe.” Master Cleary ended the call.
Hearing Master Cleary’s voice gave him some hope. The man had listened to his life story. He could tell something had been bothering him and even though Master Cleary had two subs, he had taken the time to talk to him by the lake.
I am from Huntington Beach, Ca. I taught various subjects at a Continuation High School in Los Angeles, California for 27 years. I obtained a Bachelor of Arts Degree in history, Secondary Social Science Credential and a Master's Degree in Secondary Reading and Secondary Education from California State University, Long Beach. I also enrolled in some creative writing classes at UCLA. You can contact me at brinabrady@gmail.com.
Broken Trust #1
Irish Collar Series
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