Made to Submit – JP Sayle

The scents and sounds of the busy kitchen faded into the background as Paulo watched with far too much interest as Carl’s muscular back flexed under the white chef’s top that he wore. Paulo bit his tongue to prevent the moan from leaving his mouth. It was a close call. Only when his tongue was bleeding did he release it. Each day it became harder and harder not to give in and confess how he felt for the older man. Then again, Carl made everything hard…literally! When Pappa had said they were getting another trainee in the kitchen, Paulo hadn’t paid much attention. Many people requested to come and work alongside his pappa. He was one of the top chefs in the whole of Italy and only offered to train those who were as dedicated to creating top Italian cuisine as he was. Massimo would never tolerate sub-standard food leaving his kitchen, and those that worked with him soon learnt that the hard way. His temper was renowned, and although Carl never looked all that happy to be bellowed at, he held his own and seemed to soak up every word Pappa spoke. That level of concentration was a powerful draw to a man who loved to cook as much as his pappa. The guy was a temptation and far too fascinating. Yet no matter what Paulo did, he found himself gravitating back to wherever Carl was. Carl had come to train and work alongside Massimo four months earlier, right around the time Paulo had come to some realisations about himself that left him confused and embarrassed whenever he got too close to Carl and found his cock misbehaving. He had taken to wearing tight underwear and baggy shorts to hide his problem when nothing worked to stop his body from reacting to Carl.


Carl’s scent, and the way he looked in and out of his chef’s clothing, left Paulo with wet dreams that made it impossible to look him in the eye most days. “Vieni bambino, lascia Carl da solo al lavoro,” Massimo bellowed from the other side of the busy kitchen. People paid him no mind, more than used to his shouts. Carl was the only one who glanced up from the chopping board in front of him, a look of confusion on his face as he glanced between Paulo and Massimo. Translating, Paulo blushed. “Pappa told me to leave you alone.” His English was near perfect because of the amount of time he spent around English-speaking people. A drool-worthy grin spread over Carl’s attractive face as he shook his head at Massimo. “Little P here isn’t bothering me.” He ran his hand over Paulo’s curls and tugged on the end. “He’s being helpful with teaching me Italian.” “Then he needs to teach you better if, after four months, he still needs to translate what I am saying.” The words were butchered by Massimo’s Italian accent. Carl laughed. “Maybe I’m untrainable.

” He winked at Paulo, causing his fifteen-year-old heart to flutter madly against his ribs. “Paulo, vieni qui.” Paulo’s feet dragged over the red-tiled floor towards his pappa, knowing without a doubt he was going to be shooed out of the busy kitchen. It had been the same every day after he returned from school. “Si, Papa?” “Vai a fare i compiti e lascia Carl per andare avanti con il suo lavoro.” As expected, his pappa told Paulo to get out of the kitchen and go do his homework. It was the last thing he wanted to do when Carl was right there to stare at. Leaving the spicy-scented kitchen, Paulo headed outside into the hot sunshine. The heat scorched the top of his head as he ambled past the full restaurant, through the vineyard, and up to his home. The house was a traditional Italian home, with three floors, all the bedrooms on the second and third floor, had a balcony overlooking the vineyard. All the dark wooden shutters were open, indicating the cleaner was around somewhere. The large patio area in front of the house, that held wrought iron seats and tables where the family ate at most of the year, with the exception of winter, was empty right then. Everyone would be busy at this time of the day, so he managed to escape up to his bedroom unnoticed to collapse on his single bed and stare up at the ceiling. The sounds of the birds twittering in the trees and the buzzing insects came through the open shutters. His room was at the front of the house on the third floor, away from his parents and Carl, who slept on the second floor.

His older brother had long since left home and settled in Sorrento with his girlfriend. Why did he have to be so young? Would Carl be interested in him if he were older? He rolled his eyes at even contemplating that a man as gorgeous as Carl would be interested in him. His heart pinched as he turned to punch at his pillow before laying his cheek against the cool cotton, recalling what he’d seen the week prior. Late in the evening, Paulo had woken, wanting a drink. When he’d returned to his bedroom, he’d lain awake due to the heat. It was the sound of voices carrying through his open shutters that had drawn him from his bed and out onto the balcony. Carl and the other man must have thought they couldn’t be seen in the shadows of the trees, but Paulo had seen them. He’d watched for too long, staring as they kissed and clung to each other, making noises that had caused his body to react and sent him back to his bed feeling like a peeping tom. Paulo had cursed his good fortune to find out Carl was gay, only to have his own hopes of there possibly being more between them in the future dashed by a stranger. More than a little upset at having his dreams crushed, he’d cried himself to sleep, but only after he’d dealt with his hard cock, imagining it was him that Carl had been kissing. The all-too-familiar sensations travelled to his groin at thoughts of Carl’s lips claiming his own and he ground down into the firm mattress, seeking something to relieve the growing need. It didn’t take long before he found himself on the edge of coming, with his head and heart so full of the other man. It had been this way for months and there seemed little Paulo could do to change it. Three minutes of grinding and stroking his shaft and his pants became a sticky mess. Breathless from shoving his head into the pillow to muffle the noises he’d been making, Paulo gasped, sucking in greedy breaths when he flopped onto his back.

The warm sticky mess got him moving up off the bed and stripping. He eyed his underwear and the basket his mamma insisted he use for his laundry. With a shake of his head, he dropped the pants to the floor and slipped on a fresh pair of shorts. About to head out into the hallway to rinse his underwear and hide the evidence, he paused when a familiar voice floated through his open window. His feet padded silently over the tiled floor to the balcony. The sound of Carl’s deep baritone caused a flush of heat to spread up his chest as he stopped just shy of the metal railing to eavesdrop. “Yeah, Nathan, this place is fucking unbelievable. Massimo is more than a little scary at times, but he’s got some serious skills in the kitchen.” There was laughter, followed by silence. Paulo crept forward until he could see Carl’s dark hair and powerful shoulders as he paced across the mosaic-tiled floor beneath. “Erm, not sure. I’ve scouted out a few of the local clubs but nothing obvious here. The internet search for BDSM clubs came up empty too. Maybe you could ask about, see if anyone in the community has any ideas if there is something like that close by.” Whatever air had been in Paulo’s chest left at speed, leaving him dizzy.

He clutched at the warm metal balcony, his mouth drying at what Carl was talking about. BDSM? Wasn’t that some kinky shit? He wasn’t completely dense, he and his friends had talked about sex stuff, but not this. Was Carl into something unnatural? His spent cock seemed a little too keen on the idea and plumped. Paulo’s heart flipped in his chest as he backed away as silently as he’d arrived. The dirty pants lay forgotten as he soundlessly closed the shutters to prevent hearing more of the conversation, unsure his heart could cope with any more shocks right then. His legs shook as he crossed the room and sank onto his bed, reaching for his phone. With a deep inhale, he opened the internet browser and entered BDSM into the search bar before he could think better of it. Images popped up on the screen and his heart immediately did a crazy dance against his ribs. Holy shit! Picture after picture of men and women of all shapes and sizes appeared. They were in a multitude of different positions, some dressed in leather, others in nothing more than… well, he wasn’t quite sure what they were in, but they didn’t look comfortable that was for sure. Some looked more than a little ridiculous to his mind, but his eyes remained riveted to the screen. His thumb flicked at the screen until his mind was full of things he didn’t understand while his cock was deciding what it liked on its own. By the time he put the phone down, his body was buzzing with feelings that left him more than a little anxious about what it all meant. His cock was painfully hard, but he wasn’t sure which of the pictures had caused it. He stared at his tented shorts, his throat dry.

Was he…kinky too? His stomach quivered. Was Carl a Dom or a submissive? Paulo dismissed the latter, sensing that there was nothing submissive about Carl, even if Pappa could make the big man cower. Pappa had that effect on anyone who worked in his kitchen. Paulo had witnessed one of the kitchen hands piss himself when Massimo had chased the local butcher around the kitchen with a carving knife when he’d brought meat that was past its best. The guy had never been stupid enough to make that mistake again. Unable to sit any longer, Paulo stood and walked to the wall that held his mirror to stare at his reflection. His skin was full of pimples, his face a little too round, and his curls a little too long, making him look a little more girlie than he’d like. Would someone like Carl be interested in him? His young heart yearned at the possibility. He stared into his own dark-brown eyes and sighed, scowling at his reflection before returning to his bed to pick up his phone. Carl is never going to be interested in you! But he might be if Paulo was into what he liked. CHAPTER ONE Paulo In the past, if anyone had told him that choosing to work with his idol was a good thing, he would have agreed wholeheartedly. Now, having done exactly that, Paulo could refute it quite categorically. It was his worst nightmare. Not because Carl wasn’t everything that he had dreamed he’d be like to work alongside. Fuck no, the man’s talent in the kitchen was everything he had expected and so much more.

If Carl’s temperament was a lot like Paulo’s pappa, Massimo Bottura, what did it matter? What Paulo had issues with was everything else that was happening in front of him right now, namely the attractive man who had just sailed into the kitchen. He touched Carl with a proprietary hand that showed off his all-access pass, a gleaming wedding band. When Paulo had applied for the job to work in the La Trattoria Di Amore chain of restaurants, he’d kept his connection with Massimo a secret, using his mamma’s maiden name. At the time, he’d wanted to see if Carl would remember him during his interview, but there had been nothing. Not even a flicker of recognition, which had stabbed at Paulo’s tender heart more effectively than any kitchen knife could. Paulo had spent more than a decade following Carl’s career, keeping tabs on him, nurturing the feelings he had. Never once had he lost the connection with the other man. After the interview, Paulo had gone home to look at the photos of himself and had taken solace from the fact that he was no longer a pimply teenager. He’d matured into an attractive man, and that spurred him to cling onto the hope that once he’d started to work with Carl, the older man would notice him. The reality was, Carl had been secretly dating Adam, the main restaurant manager, and they were in love. It was a blow that left Paulo reeling, and having distanced himself from most of the people at work, in order to protect himself from the daily torture of seeing all these happy men together, he had hardly any friends at work. So he kept his head down, got on with doing his job, and slowly died a little more every day. His pappa had offered him a job back in Italy, but it appeared he was a sadistic fuck who couldn’t seem to make himself take the offer. It seemed Paulo wasn’t ready yet to stop flogging himself over his own stupid feelings for a married man. The teenage crush had morphed into something deeper over time as Paulo observed Carl from afar.

The years that Carl had spent working with Massimo left Paulo secretly seeking out clubs to find out more about Carl’s lifestyle, hoping that once he was skilled in submission, Carl would be interested in more than friendship. When Carl continued to show no interest, Paulo had deluded himself into believing it was because Carl did not want to disrespect his pappa. Then Paulo had left to go to culinary training school, but by the time he’d returned, Carl had left and gone back to London. So Paulo had bided his time, watching and waiting for a position in the La Trattoria Di Amore restaurants. His dream had come true, only to become his own personal nightmare. “Can you start on the entrée for me, Paulo?” Billy, the assistant head chef, questioned as he walked towards where Paulo was stood, not paying attention to what he should have been doing. The lunch time service was fully booked, as it was every day, and Paulo should have been preparing the food. “Si, I can do that.” Paulo didn’t meet Billy’s gaze as he shuffled past to grab the ingredients he’d need. A hand stopped him from taking more than two steps. “You’ve a face like a wet weekend, what’s up with you?” There was no hint of humour in Billy’s voice and he tended to remain quiet unless he wanted someone to do something. How to answer? It wasn’t like Paulo could say he’d had his heart crushed the day that Carl and Adam said their ‘I do’s’ because right up until that point, he’d still harboured the secret desire that Carl would come to his senses and see that he was right there, waiting for him. Had that happened? Fuck no. Paulo had gone to the wedding and got rip-roaring drunk and left early to hide from the truth of how raw and empty he’d felt inside. “Hey, you two having a party and didn’t choose to invite me?” Lenny quipped as he walked past, grinning like a fool.

The man had a smile permanently plastered onto his face since Carl had offered to train him one-on-one. “Vaf anculo,” Paulo muttered, shaking off Billy’s hand and stomping off to get what he needed. “What did he say?” The question, Paulo was sure, had been aimed at Billy, but he didn’t wait to see what Billy’s response was, not sure he understood ‘fuck off’ in Italian. Speaking a different language had its benefits when Paulo wanted to let rip and voice his anger without being caught telling everyone off. On his return to the counter, everyone, as if sensing his mood, kept their distance. It was becoming more and more frequent, but there was little that Paulo could do about it without explaining what he was going through. And there was no way he was going to admit what a fool he’d been. As time went on, the pace in the kitchen, along with the noise level and scent of Italian food, increased. Paulo kept his gaze from travelling to where he knew Carl was working. Or he tried to, although a few minutes later he found himself staring at Carl when Adam reappeared in the kitchen as if he couldn’t bear to be away from Carl’s embrace. He wrapped his beefy arm around Adam’s slim shoulders and brought him close to his huge chest. There was something intimate that passed between them before Carl laid a soft kiss to Adam’s lips. The rawness inside Paulo left him with a ball of uncontrolled emotion lodged in his chest. Why couldn’t that have been me? A sob tore at his throat and Paulo dropped the knife he’d been using to pare vegetables. He ran to the staff changing room and slammed into one of the empty toilets, shutting the door hard enough to make it rattle.

He plonked himself down on the closed toilet seat lid and buried his head in his hands. Why was he doing this to himself? Why? Hundreds of times he’d asked this question, but the answer was still just as hard to find. How did anyone let go of a long-held dream when it involved their heart? With great difficulty, it would seem. “Paulo? Paulo, you okay in there?” Lenny called through the door. “Fine.” There was what sounded like a put-upon sigh before Lenny spoke again. “You didn’t look fine and you don’t sound it.” The frustration of the past months bubbled inside Paulo as he lifted his head and shouted. “You can’t see me, so just leave me the fuck alone.” “No,” was Lenny’s response before he pounded on the door. “Come out and talk to me. We used to be friends.” Paulo didn’t miss the use of the past tense. Paulo had found Lenny fun to be around in the beginning, until Carl had offered to train Lenny, and Paulo’s jealousy had got the better of him. When Lenny pounded harder on the door, Paulo jumped up and unlocked the door with trembling fingers.

His insides felt like they were going to ignite. He pushed open the door and bellowed, “I don’t want to talk! Don’t you get it? You’re half the problem.” Lenny’s face crumpled in distress, which just made the situation worse, and Paulo’s guilt swam with his anger, leaving him lost. Anger, it seemed, won the battle and he swung at a surprised-looking Lenny, who didn’t have time to dodge the fist, which hit him in the centre of his chest. There was a solid thump as Lenny staggered back and hit the wall behind him. Whatever Paulo had thought about Lenny, he wasn’t expecting the fire that lit the other man’s eyes. It glowed, and Paulo found his head flicking back with the impact of a punch to his cheek that Lenny delivered with more force than he looked capable of. “What the hell is going on in here?” Sebastian asked with barely controlled anger as he stood in the doorway while a crowd of people behind him gawked over his shoulder. Carl’s presence amongst them just made Paulo’s humiliation complete. Paulo shifted his gaze to Sebastian, the co-owner of the business with Carl, then held his throbbing cheek. Sebastian glanced between them both, but it was Paulo’s face that his gaze returned to. “Did Lenny punch you?” “Yes, but it was my fault,” Paulo confessed, close to tears now that his anger hand waned. Lenny remained silent at the side of him, his hand rubbing at the centre of his chest. “I’m sorry, Lenny.” Lenny’s only answer was to grunt.

“Lenny, go back and get on with what you were doing.” Sebastian stood to the side to let Lenny pass. When the door shut, Sebastian leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest. “Explain to me what is going on.” Seb was intimidating at the best of times, but right now he was downright scary with the iciness in his voice and his expression a mask of fury. “I was upset. Lenny caught me at a bad time. I punched him in the chest and he hit me back.” One of Seb’s dark brows arched. “Is that it? You don’t think you owe me a full explanation as to why you were angry in the first place? Because right now, I’m about three seconds away from firing you. These last few months you’ve been withdrawn, and though your work hasn’t suffered, the atmosphere in the kitchen has staff complaining. So, do you want to explain why you were angry enough to use violence against another staff member?”

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Updated: 18 May 2021 — 23:10

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