Blade's Story

Blade’s Story

“Do you have your tickets and your phone?”

“Yes, Gordon,” Blade said for the umpteenth time. He might have said something else, but they weren’t the only ones at the station, and Blade had spent enough time in Gordon’s tender mercies to know the old geezer wasn’t shy with the swats and could still pack one hell of a wallop.

“Tone, boy.”

“Yes, sir,” Blade muttered through gritted teeth.

Gordon grabbed Blade by the arm and hustled him against a quiet wall of the station between the signs for the restrooms and a faded travel poster for New York City. “Do you need something from me, my lad?”

The words sounded innocent enough, but Blade more than knew better. It was Gordon code for should I drag you into the bathroom and spank you silly. There was nothing fun or erotic about Gordon in a public toilet. It would be nothing but punishment and leave Blade snotty, sore, and miserable. 

“No, sir,” Blade managed with a lot more sincerity. “I’m sorry.”

“Lad, we all know this is hard for you, but you have responsibilities in life. We will help you, but we will not let you evade them.”

God, he knew that. Gordon didn’t have to lecture him about it. He’d been going to Florida every month since Heath had been born, but Milton always went with him. With Milton, Blade could trail along behind and fade into the woodwork. He really wasn’t a good dad and seeing Mary only got more awkward. She was polite and so painfully grateful for his terrible attempt at fatherhood that it only made Blade feel worse. It was Milton who bounced little redheaded Heath on his knee and could make him smile and chirp. With Blade, he screamed and screwed up his face into terrible expressions.

“Boy, you will be fine. Andrew is not as young as he once was, but he is still a formidable dominant. I know he’s not the looker of your new young friend, but he is a very fine top and a very fine human, and he considers you family.”

Blade barely refrained from snorting. Andrew was an old codger who, as far as Blade could tell, smiled only once a century. 

“Off you go, lad.” Gordon ruffled Blade’s hair and gave him a push toward the platform. “We have faith in you, young man.”

Blade slung his bag over his shoulder and headed for the train. He tried to smile and wave. He didn’t want another lecture from Gordon, but he knew he would make a disaster of this week. He wasn’t parent material. God, they should know that. If only he could shut his eyes and have the week all over with. He swallowed hard and made himself follow the crowd across the worn floor to the train. He was supposed to be an adult and capable of all these adult things. Vomiting or worse bursting into tears wouldn’t make it all go away.

He squeezed his way to his seat, throwing his duffle overhead. He sat down, automatically registering the beauty occupying the next seat, her auburn hair framing an oval face with exotic near black eyes. Without thinking, he smiled and started chatting about the weather. This was the Blade he could do, the Blade everyone expected: cute, flirtatious, and a little wild. 

*****

Blade had taken a taxi, using most of his cash to pay the fare. He had a credit card, but Milton paid it, and if he looked at the bill, a New York City cab fare when Blade was supposed to be on the train for Florida would send herds of irate tops pelting after him. Who was he kidding anyway? When he didn’t show up tomorrow morning in Florida, the tops would be out in force, and Blade didn’t know Ryan that well. Ryan might just call Gordon or Milton and send Blade packing. He was a top, and they tended to stick together, but Ryan was fun. He didn’t act like he had a stick stuck up his ass.

The building looked like any of the other nearby buildings, possibly an office building or expensive apartments. A uniformed doorman hovered behind the revolving doors; only the discreet brass plaque told Blade he was at the right place. He walked to the corner and crossed the street, trying to melt into the continuous flow of pedestrians. Blade had made his third pass up the street before he noticed someone enter the building, a man in a suit with the start of gray near his temples and carrying a briefcase. The man looked ordinary enough, one of the thousands who toiled in the financial sector.

Blade ran his fingers through his hair, spiking it into a more raucous style. He sauntered across the street and walked through the revolving doors. 

“Sir, may I help you?” The uniformed doorman asked immediately, his large frame blocking Blade’s progress.

Blade smiled, not his real smile, but a pouty smile that hinted of sex; a smile that usually made people do his bidding. “I’m meeting Ryan here tonight, Ryan Fisher. We’re old friends.” Blade flicked his green eyes up with his most beguiling look at the hulk who was still blocking the passage.

“We have no guests for Mr. Fisher tonight. You must be mistaken.” 

“I know he told me tonight, or maybe it was next week. I’m just so bad with dates.” Blade gave the hulk a half embarrassed smile and looked up from under his long lashes.

“Young man, stop it. I’ve seen many who are far better at that game.”

Blade felt his face flush and he looked down at his worn sneakers. In slightly baggy bermudas and a polo shirt, he looked like a college kid on summer holiday, probably not the best outfit for a little coy seduction, but still it usually worked.

“Please, I need to see Ryan,” Blade pleaded with a whole lot more sincerity. He’d missed his train, and God, he didn’t want to face Gordon tonight. Milton would be bad enough, but he was a fountain of sympathy compared to Gordon.

“Kid, are you in trouble?” the hulk asked with a slight softening of his voice and posture. 

“I will be.”

“Come with me.” The doorman hustled Blade around the corner into a small alcove. He pulled out a small stool. “Sit. Do not leave here until I return with Mr. Fisher. Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” Blade muttered, resenting the tone.

“Young man, do you understand?” the hulk repeated, leaning toward Blade and capturing him in a dark glare. “I am well within my rights to toss you out into the street or to call the police.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

“Entering a private club on false pretense. Does that sound familiar?”

“It’s not false pretense. I know Ryan.” Blade heard the whine in his voice, but he was powerless to stop it. He swiped angrily at his face where a tear threatened to spill over.

“Kid, will you stay here while I fetch Mr. Fisher?”

“Yes, sir.”

The hand that ruffled Blade’s hair was quick but kind. “Ah, I see that you do have manners when we look hard enough. Good boy. I’ll be right back.”

It wasn’t right back. Blade twirled around on the stool. He was parked in a cloakroom or something with nothing to look at but an empty coat rack and a desk with some old and very thick phonebooks. 

“Blade?” The voice hinted at exasperation, but wasn’t unfriendly.

“Ryan.” Blade ran for him and buried himself against the well developed chest. He gripped the dark green blazer in desperate fingers.

Ryan’s arm was tight and heavy over Blade’s shoulders. “I’ve got you. Now settle down, boy.” The growl was directly in Blade’s ear, secure and comforting.

“Ryan, you tight lipped bastard. I didn’t know you had a boy, a gorgeous one at that. Too temperamental for me, but you’ve always liked a challenge. Sort the imp out. I’ll make your excuses.”

“Thanks, Dave. I didn’t know I had a boy either,” Ryan said, his voice tinged with amusement. Ryan shed his green blazer, his bulging muscles obvious under his white shirt. “Come with me.” Ryan caught Blade’s wrist in a strong grip, not painful but Blade had no choice but to trail along at a near jog behind Ryan’s long steps.

“Can you slow down?” Blade muttered as they cleared the outside steps and headed down the block. “I’m not training for Olympic race walking. It’s too hot out here for this. Are you mad?” Blade asked when Ryan didn’t slow.

“We’ll talk about it at home,” Ryan said, easing his pace slightly.

“I don’t want you mad at me.”

“Blade.” Ryan stopped and pulled Blade back against a building, out of the way of the pedestrian traffic flow. “I said we’d talk about it at home. Was there something you didn’t understand about that sentence?”

“No,” Blade spat. “I didn’t come here to get yelled at. Let me go, you overgrown asshole.” Blade tried to jerk his arm from Ryan’s grip.

“Stop it.” Ryan easily caught Blade’s other wrist and trapped them both in his unbreakable grip. “This is New York. You can make all the noise you want, and everyone will walk by as if nothing is happening. I would prefer not to do this in the street, but if you insist.”

Blade gulped and stared into Ryan’s blue eyes. They were calm, confident, and much too firm for comfort. “I’ll be good.”

“Thank you.” The kiss on the top of Blade’s head was chaste and perfunctory.

“I’m sorry,” Blade mumbled, his eyes filling with tears.

“Hey, hey, there’s no need to cry here.” Ryan brushed the hair off Blade’s forehead with his fingers before dropping a kiss on the lightly freckled skin. “We are going to walk to my apartment like two civilized people, and then we will discuss why you showed up at my place of work unannounced and I’m sure without telling Milton or Gordon. Can you do that for me, Blade?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Yes, Ryan,” Ryan prompted.

“What?” Blade asked, mesmerized by the Ryan’s voice, Ryan’s hands, Ryan’s lips on his skin. 

“Yes, Ryan or no, Ryan is the correct response to me when I ask you a question. I want you to remember you’re talking to me, not a random sir.

“Yes, Ryan.” Not a random sir. What did Ryan mean? “Do you want me?” Blade asked, stumbling over the words and blushing furiously. 

“I am not having this discussion under the awning of a second rate jewelry store. With me.” Ryan shifted his grip to Blade’s hand and strode back into the flow of the sidewalk, not giving Blade time to protest.

“Where do you live? Do you have an apartment?” Blade blathered, not able to stand the silence. 

“Blade, later. You will learn patience if it’s the death of me.”

“There’ll be a later.” Blade knew his grin was huge and silly. He couldn’t help it; Ryan did that to him.

“If you want,” Ryan said softly. “Home first, boy.”

Blade really didn’t remember the rest of the walk. He just remembered nearly running behind the longer steps with a fool grin on his face and panting hard.

“Sit,” Ryan ordered, pointing the way into a tiny kitchen before he’d even pulled the keys from the door. Ryan shut the door behind him and turned the dead bolt. He took two mismatched glasses from the draining board and filled them with ice and water. “Drink. You were panting like a steam engine.” Ryan took a long swallow and propped his hip on the tiny kitchen counter, paradoxically both comforting in his closeness and intimidating in his shear bigness and intensity of his expression. “Why are you here, Blade?”

“I wanted to,” Blade said and buried himself more thoroughly in his water glass.

“You wanted to?” Ryan gave Blade a steady look that clearly showed he expected a different answer. “Let’s try a more complete answer.”

Blade swirled the ice in his glass before looking up and giving Ryan his most charming smile. “I wanted to see you.”

“Blade,” Ryan growled, leaning his large body even closer to Blade. “I know you are capable of a better answer than that. Now, do you want to continue to have an adult conversation, or do you want me to handle this differently?”

“I just wanted to come.” Blade tried for his most innocent expression. God, it was a lie. He couldn’t just say it; he couldn’t even admit it to himself. He couldn’t voice his desperation, his fear. He was the smooth one, the most popular guy in any group, always the one with the prettiest date and the most believable excuse for trouble.

“Take your shoes, socks, and shorts off.”

“What?”

“Boy, I know there is nothing wrong with your hearing.”

Shit! He was serious. It wasn’t that Ryan hadn’t seen him naked, but in this minuscule kitchen, seated on this hard chair and squeezed between the table and a row of hanging kitchen gadgets, it wasn’t sexy or fun. “Ryan!” Blade pleaded.

“I gave you a chance to talk to me. Now, I add a little incentive. Shoes, socks, shorts.”

Blade kicked off his sneakers, not bothering to untie them. The socks were also easy; barefoot was nothing special. He stood and slid his shorts down his slim hips. He knew his face had to be as red as his hair as he tossed his shorts across the floor. “Satisfied?”

“No. Fold your shorts and put your shoes and socks by the door. And yes, I’m serious; you don’t need to ask.”

Feeling totally vulnerable in his boxers and bare feet, Blade did Ryan’s bidding. What other choice did he have with that giant looming over him, a damn sexy giant, but menacing never the less?

“Thank you,” Ryan said before Blade could make some smart comment about tidiness freaks. “Can you tell me why you’re here?”

“You pulled me down the street by my wrist.”

Ryan slowly and deliberately crossed his arms, the muscles of his forearm bulging against his inadequate shirtsleeves. “So you want to do it that way. I’m happy to oblige, but make sure it’s a choice you want to make.”

“What way?” Blade of course knew what way Ryan meant, but he couldn’t stop the snide reply. 

“Very well.” Ryan stood and upended Blade in what seemed like a single effortless motion. 

Blade hung upside down, his hands scrabbling for purchase on the linoleum floor, the air conditioned breeze wafting over his horribly exposed butt. The first spank tore a yell from Blade’s throat. Ryan had tossed Blade over his knee a few times in aggressive foreplay. That had been fun; nothing about this was fun. Blade writhed, trying to escape the hand that was much too fast and too accurate by half. 

It was over in less than a minute, and a tear soaked Blade found himself hauled to his feet and tucked into a corner, facing the sink and a window with a view to the neighboring brick building. 

“Ten minutes, and I’ll ask again.”

“Ryan!” Blade whined.

“Ten minutes.”

“I hate the corner,” Blade pleaded, turning from the corner.

“No.” Ryan pointed back to the hated spot. “I know you’ve been in a corner before.”

“I hate it.” Blade only half turned toward the wall, hoping for a reprieve, even though Ryan’s expression made it clear that such a reprieve was as likely as the earth swallowing both of them.

“Ten minutes,” Ryan said implacably.  

“No.” Blade shot back around.

“You do not want to have a temper tantrum with me.” Ryan’s hands caught Blade’s shoulders and turned him back to the corner. “Think, boy.”

Blade kicked the wall, barefooted it did no damage. He yelped as Ryan’s hand crashed down on his exposed and still stinging ass.

“I am very stubborn. Don’t try it again.”

Blade couldn’t seem to stop himself. He kicked at the wall and struggled in Ryan’s grip. He knew how to stand in the corner; it wasn’t like he hadn’t had practice, loads of practice, but suddenly he couldn’t. He didn’t know what he shouted at Ryan, but he was sure it was vile. The blazing rain of swats halted his struggle as he was dumped over Ryan’s knee and efficiently pinned between Ryan’s thighs with a heavy arm secure around his waist.

“Ten minutes. It would have been more comfortable in the corner. Remember this is your choice.”

Blade cursed and tried to lever himself off Ryan’s lap. 

“You’re safe. Settle down.”

It wasn’t the words that settled Blade, but Ryan’s quiet tone penetrated Blade’s resistance and he slumped limply across Ryan’s lap.

“Good boy.” Ryan’s hand rubbed Blade’s back in slow soothing circles. “You do choose the hard way, don’t you?”

“Yes. Can I get up now?”

“Nope. Six more minutes.”

“I’m settled now.”

“And you threw a first class tantrum. You can spend ten minutes being quiet over my knee.”

Ten minutes. Ryan had said ten minutes, but it seemed like forever with his butt exposed to the air and his head hanging against Ryan’s calf. The floor was a black and white pattern, very clean but starting to curl at the corners. Ryan’s pants were crisp, ironed into sharp creases, his socks a dark dress color. 

“It must be ten minutes.” It felt like an hour.

“Two more. You must be fun on long car trips. Are we there yet?” Ryan teased.

“Don’t make me laugh. I’m hanging upside down mostly naked.”

“Shh, little one. Being naked has never seemed to be much of a problem for you. I’ll remind you that we met at a naked swim party.” Ryan’s hand glided across Blade’s butt, comforting but also a reminder of Blade’s vulnerable position. “Are you ready to tell me why we’re here?”

 No, he wasn’t, but dangling exposed and ready for the fire, Blade didn’t want to snap out his usual sharp retort. He didn’t want to talk, but the other options were also high on the dreadful scale.

“Blade.” The warning was clear, and the pat on Blade’s already sore flesh was too firm for a love tap.

“Don’t spank me again,” Blade pleaded, trying to twist upright.

“Be still.” The slap was hard, echoing in the tight space of the apartment. “This is far more comfortable for me than for you, and I have a nice view. Are you sure you want to play it this way?” Ryan punctuated his last words with several hard swats that made Blade’s head snap up and fresh tears fill his eyes.

“I’m trying. Please, let me up.”

“No.” The denial was flat and by the tone unshakable. “Why are we here?” Ryan repeated.

Blade heard the words spill out of his mouth, disjointed and confused. It was as if it were someone else spilling his secrets on the floor: Mary, Heath, Milton, Gordon, Blade’s sickening fear of fatherhood, his desperation for a top. Finally the words stopped in a choked sob.

“Blade. It’s all right, sweetheart. I’ve got you now.”

The hug was crushing. It enveloped all Blade’s senses. All he could see, smell, and hear was Ryan: the light aroma of his aftershave, the pressed cotton against his cheek, the blue eyes too wise for their age.

“Little one, look at me.” Ryan held Blade at arm’s length, seeming to memorize Blade’s features. “What do you want from me? Do you want me for your dominant? No, don’t answer yet.” Ryan held his finger to Blade’s lips. “I want you to stand in the corner and think a minute while I collect a few things.”

“No,” Blade wailed, clutching at Ryan’s belt. “Don’t leave me alone.”

“This is a studio apartment. I’ll be right here.” With steady, strong hands, Ryan guided Blade back to the corner.  Ryan fenced Blade in with his arms as he whispered in his ear. “Stand quietly; hands at your side. I know you can do this.” He kissed the top of Blade’s head. “Be a good boy for me.”

Blade stood, feeling his shoulders settle and his breathing slow to match Ryan’s steady breaths. The back of his shirt rubbed against his tender butt. He sighed and stared out the window, not seeing anything, only feeling the sudden quiet of the apartment. Ryan must have stepped away because Blade heard the scrape of a drawer and the sound of paper being rustled around. 

“Turn around.” 

Blade stared at the kitchen table. On it was a wooden spoon of frightening stoutness and a thin necklace of ropes and beads.

“I don’t have a collar or a paddle here so I had to improvise,” Ryan said with a gentle smile that made Blade long for Ryan’s hands on him: stroking him, holding him, even spanking him. “This is the deal. I want you for my collared submissive. That is if you want me?”

God, yes, Blade wanted Ryan. He started to move toward Ryan.

“No, stop.”

Blade froze. 

“There’s a down side to this deal,” Ryan continued with a lopsided smile. “I will punish you. You have not been honest with me. How long were you going to wait to tell me you had a son? I do remember talking about family. A power exchange relationship can be dangerous. A power exchange relationship where both parties are not completely honest with each other is always dangerous. I will not have it. You shirked your responsibilities today. More bluntly you ran away from them. You have a responsibility to Mary, to Heath, to Gordon, and to Milton. Milton and his family have extended kindness and generosity to you beyond the imagination of most families, and you’ve thrown it back in their face. As my submissive, you will have responsibilities in life. I will help you with them, but I will not allow you to evade them. I will always be there for you: sometimes in ways you love, sometimes in ways you don’t much like, and sometimes in ways you will detest. I have high expectations for my submissive. You are a wonderfully capable, beautiful package of mischief, charm and knock your socks off sex appeal. I know you can be a wonderful submissive, but it won’t always be easy or fun.”

Blade threw himself at Ryan. He didn’t care if it meant getting spanked with that nasty spoon. Even in this tiny apartment with a kitchen table with only one chair and walls painted a pale pink with stenciled flowers, Ryan was masterful. Blade had to fight the urge to fall to his knees or to clutch Ryan’s hand in supplication. “Keep me, please.”

“Blade, you need to think about it. I will hurt you tonight. I won’t harm you, but it will hurt.  I want all of you, not the tantalizing little pieces you show to everybody else. Back in the corner to think about it.”

“No.” Blade clutched at Ryan’s hand. 

The swat was hard and instantaneous. “Corner. Shirt off.”

Blade started to protest, but it died on his lips at the fierceness of Ryan’s glare. With shaking hands, Blade pulled his shirt over his head, and remembering Ryan’s earlier dictates, he folded it neatly and placed it on the only chair. This was a first for him, naked in the corner. He shivered, not so much from the cold but from the vulnerability. Ryan was fully clothed and not a small man. Blade was truly at his mercy.

“I won’t harm you.” Ryan’s fingers traced down Blade’s spine. “But I need you to be absolutely sure. You’ll hate me and I’ll hate myself if you’re not absolutely sure.”

Blade was sure. He didn’t need to wait, but he must. Ryan insisted. Maybe this was why he was in the corner to make sure he could follow orders. Blade didn’t want to stare at the brickwork and the rusting fire escape. He wanted to stare at Ryan, to drink up his dominance. Milton was dominant; Gordon terrified most people, but Ryan was different. He grabbed something in Blade that he couldn’t identify. Blade obeyed Milton; he even liked Milton, but Ryan was special. He longed to be under Ryan’s eye.

“Blade?”

He hadn’t realized it had been ten minutes. “Yes, Ryan.” The answer was obvious; it had always been obvious. Ryan could put him in the corner for a day, a week, or a year; the answer would still be, yes, Ryan. “I am your submissive.” Blade knelt. He had never knelt. He’d seen Mike do it and thought it was a stupid party trick. 

“Mine.” 

The word was so soft Blade almost thought he imagined it, but the strong arms lifting him to his feet and the lips pressed against his were real enough. He was home. He knew there was promised awfulness ahead, but Blade didn’t care. This was home; he’d found safety, love, the elusive Shangri-La.