The Golden Goose 10

The Golden Goose 10

Jared answered the sharp rap on the door. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and he was supposed to be at dinner in thirty minutes. Landon had stopped by earlier with dark gray pants and a dark green tie with an abstract triangle pattern that could be a mountain if one had an artistic imagination. Thank God he hadn’t been super chatty; Landon had given Jared a knowing smile which had been enough to send a shiver down Jared’s back. These people’s understanding of privacy and decorum was far different than Jared’s. Charlotte could be chatty about her newest date in a funny and non-revealing way, but Jared had always kept his private life private maybe because he hadn’t been raised that way. Guys weren’t all that chatty anyway; sure they liked to boast of their sexual conquest, but those conquests were with girls.

“Do you need help with your tie?” Atticus asked, breaking off Jared’s rambling thoughts.

“I’m capable,” Jared snapped.

Atticus leaned against the wall and gave Jared a long look, a pose that Jared was rapidly recognizing as an irritated top. “Is there a problem?”

“No.” Why had Jared ever thought this was a good idea? It had been fun or crazy or just plain stupid. Graham had managed to articulate the need to get out of this insane asylum. Jared must be an idiot; he could have mirrored those words and been on his way home to safe and ordinary people.

“Jared, are you OK about what happen this afternoon?” Atticus asked, his expression filled with a gentleness that both infuriated and embarrassed Jared.

“I let you fuck me outside on a fucking rock. I guess I’m OK with it,” Jared spat. “It’s done now.”

“Did you feel pressured?”

The words were kind; the eyes were kind. Jared turned away; he couldn’t bear to look. “It was fine.”

Atticus moved quickly and caught Jared’s shoulder with one hand and his chin with the other. “You are not fine.”

Jared gulped at Atticus’s expression. It wasn’t angry. Angry would have been easy. It was steady, penetrating, demanding. Escape was not possible, and despite his pounding heart and the shudder Jared felt sweep through his body, Jared was perversely relieved. He hadn’t chased Atticus away.

“Are you mad at me?”

Jared shook his head and blinked the tears that were traitorously threatening to spill down his face.

“Talkative, aren’t you?” Atticus swung Jared around and swatted him briskly three times.

Jared jumped and tried to turn away from the firing line. He hadn’t expected that from Atticus. Jared was a boy, a submissive, a bottom. He should expect swats and spanks and sharp lectures. In two days, he must have seen dozens of such incidents. He should know how this goes by now. Hadn’t Ryan warned Atticus not to let Jared get away with ‘I’m fine.’

“Should I swat you again?” Atticus asked into the silence.

No, yes, Jared didn’t know. He wanted Atticus’s hands on him. He wanted the comfort, the control, the hugs, and even the spanks. He was crazy; there was no other way to describe it.

“Jared!” The growl was both threatening and warming, and the hand on Jared’s butt was without a doubt a warning.

“I don’t know,” Jared said, his voice tumbling out between breaths. 

Atticus, with unrelenting pressure on Jared’s wrist, dragged Jared toward the bed. Jared felt his feet skidding after Atticus, both relieved and fearful of the possible outcome. Atticus sat down and pulled Jared next to him, his long arm wrapping around Jared’s shoulder.

“This is interesting,” Atticus said.

Interesting! Jared could think of lots of words for his current predicament, and interesting wasn’t on his list--insane, not interesting.

“Jared, let’s start from the beginning. I’m confused.”

Jared nodded. He wanted to move closer to Atticus, snuggle against his chest, smell the faint whiff of his aftershave and his shampoo.

“Jared,” Atticus said, his tone edging into exasperation. “Conversations usually require both people speak.”

Jared nodded again. He couldn’t seem to make any other response; his tongue was trapped in his mouth, unable to articulate the syllables and words of communication.

Atticus sighed, his hand rubbing down Jared’s back. “Are you mad at me?” he asked, repeating one of his earlier questions.

“No.” Jared managed to articulate the single syllable. He wasn’t angry, or at least not at Atticus. 

“All right then you’re spinning,” Atticus said with finality. “Drop your pants and over my knee.”

Jared knew his eyebrows rose into his hairline, but he didn’t voice a protest. He fumbled with his button and zipper and didn’t resist as Atticus guided him into position. Atticus’s hand was warm on Jared’s cotton briefs, surprisingly comforting when Jared knew what came next.

“I’ll take it we’re doing it this way.” 

Jared shifted as Atticus drew down his boxers and bucked as the first swat landed on his ass cheek. It wasn’t hard or severe, but firm. The spanking was quick, not enough to bring Jared to tears, but it left him gulping and squirming. He tried to lever himself off Atticus’s lap as Atticus’s hand shifted to rubbing Jared’s back.

“No, stay put. You’re calmer this way.”

Atticus was right. Jared was calmer; the sick feeling that had been swirling unexplained through his stomach was gone. He felt secure and calm. He was hanging over Atticus’s knee freshly spanked, and he felt relieved, settled, even relaxed. This was the man who had loved him so gently as the sun had baked down on the rocks and the wind had tickled the branches of the massive pine trees. He had equally gently put Jared over his knee and spanked the demons away.

“Are you better?” Atticus rubbed Jared’s back, slipping his hand under the tails of Jared’s dress shirt. 

“Better,” Jared said, his body relaxing across Atticus’s lap. He was better. This was crazy, but he was better. He’d just let his boyfriend--could he use that term--spank him, and he felt better.

Atticus swung Jared upright and kissed his cheek. “Secret,” he whispered. “I’m confused and scared too. Did I do this right?”

Jared smiled; he couldn’t help but smile at the sincerity and kindness in Atticus’s face, the slight curl in his cowlick no longer brushed into place. “You did it right.” Jared touched his lips to Atticus’s. It started as a gentle peck, but Atticus’s hand came around Jared’s head and the kiss deepened.

“Enough,” Atticus said, kissing Jared’s cheek as he pulled away as a consolation prize. “I’m not man enough to cope with Gordon in a tirade because we’re late for dinner.”

Jared flushed. “I looked spanked.”

“Wash your face, brush your hair, and I’ll do your tie.”

“I think I better put my pants on, or it’s going to be very obvious,” Jared said with a laugh. He was laughing about being spanked, and it felt right.

“I should hope so, boy” Atticus said with a smile and a raised eyebrow that made it clear he was teasing. 

Jared pulled up his pants and headed toward the bathroom for a quick cleanup. He splashed water on his face. Atticus hadn’t spanked him hard enough to produce tears, so he should be safe on that side, and his shirt wasn’t wrinkled. The perfect creases were gone from his pants, but he wasn’t an ironer; they’d have to do. His cheeks were pink; God, they’d been pink all day. The sun, it was summer; he sunburned easily.

“Jared, hurry.” Atticus’s voice came through the bathroom door.

“Coming.” Jared ran the comb one more time through his hair. It would never stay where it should.

“Your tie.” Atticus pointed Jared at the mirror and wrapped his arms around his back. “I can’t do it facing you. Sorry.”

Jared mumbled something that he was sure was unintelligible about no need for Atticus to be sorry. The arms around Jared’s back, the fingers on his neck and under his chin, well, they felt good. They made Jared long for more than just Atticus’s hands on his tie.

“None of that,” Atticus said with a chuckle and a quick trace of his finger down Jared’s groin as he drew away. “I’m a good upstanding citizen; I’m not going to dinner with a hard on or with a boy who looks, well, you know.”

Jared laughed. “I’m sure well fucked is a common expression here.”

“Well loved,” Atticus said with a light slap on Jared’s hip. “I’ll leave the expression well fucked to Ryan and company.”

“Putting on airs.” Jared dodged the gentle swat. “Enough of that. If I can’t sit down, they’ll all know.”

Atticus wrapped his arm around Jared, his freshly shaved chin against Jared’s cheek, his voice in Jared’s ear. “I don’t think you’re in any danger of that from me, but I can put you back over my knee if it would settle you.”

“I’m good.” Jared looked up into Atticus’s eyes and saw the sparkle of amusement. “You’re teasing me?”

“A little.” Atticus dropped a kiss on Jared’s forehead. “I don’t have any practice at this. Am I doing OK? I’ve not spanked anyone before. I’ve swatted Sheldon and Blade a few times; I don’t think there’s anyone here who hasn’t, but pulling you over my knee was different.” Atticus paused and ran his finger down Jared’s cheek. “I want you as mine.”

Jared looked up into Atticus’s face, trying to memorize the small scar over the right eyebrow, the hazel eyes that were impossibly kind and hopeful, the chin with just enough sharpness to seem determined. “I want to be yours.” Where had that come from? He wasn’t supposed to say that. He should have said something neutral and noncommittal. He couldn’t give this man his soul; he didn’t know this man.

The kiss was intense and demanding. Jared kissed back, letting the invading tongue through his lips. He felt his body lean into Atticus and become limp.

“Enough,” Atticus said sharply. “We are going to be late.” Without asking, Atticus caught Jared’s hand and dragged him from the room at a pace well beyond sedate. 

Jared’s head was still spinning as they entered the dining room. He didn’t notice the starched tablecloths, crystal goblets, and genuine silver service until he was seated at the table. Shit! Milton and Gordon were in tuxedos, Milton with a green velvet cape over his shoulders. Even Atticus was in a dark suit. Why hadn’t he noticed before? A blue blazer and borrowed dark pants were hardly adequate. Everyone was formally attired. Jared looked down the long table; Luke and Mike had dark suits; Landon and Sheldon were also in tuxes. Tilden’s chair was surprisingly empty.

“I see you made it,” Gordon said stiffly. “Tilden was forced to take Graham to the rail station. We awaited only your presence.”

“Personal matters,” Atticus said with an enigmatic smile.

Gordon raised an eyebrow but said no more. He turned to Milton and they both rose and walked to the front of the dining room, Milton one step behind Gordon. They halted and Milton dropped to one knee, his head bowed.

“No!” Sheldon shouted and bolted out of his seat. “You didn’t tell me you were doing this. This morning was my responsibility.”

Landon made a grab for Sheldon’s arm. “This is Milton and Gordon,” he hissed. “You know how it works between them.”

Sheldon shook off Landon. “This was my fault. Milton was protecting me. He’s my top; that’s his job.”

“Sheldon.” Gordon’s voice was ice itself. “Boy, do you consider yourself responsible for this morning’s debacle?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sheldon, you hate the cane,” Milton said, lifting his head, his voice as calm as his expression.

“Do you talk on your knees?”

“No, sir.” Milton said clearly, his eyes on Gordon’s face. “I accept your authority, but I will not cede my right to protect my boy. Sheldon is mine.”

Gordon caressed Milton’s hair. “I will not ask that of you. I ask you to trust. Without trust this relationship is not viable. Do we have a problem, Milton?”

“No, sir.” Milton dropped to both knees, dipped his head further, and placed both his hands behind his back. Jared heard the sudden and absolute silence as Milton had dropped to both knees and bowed his head. There was no rustle of silverware or scrape of a chair against the floor. It was almost as if everyone had collectively stopped breathing.

“You have my forgiveness, but there will be punishment. Kneel up, please.”  

“Easy,” Ryan whispered in Jared’s ear. “They know what they’re doing.”

“Sheldon, do you wish to join us?” Gordon asked.

“Yes, sir.” Sheldon said as he drew a sharp breath and squared his shoulders.

“It’s the cane,” Landon broke in.

“Don’t interfere,” Gordon ordered.

Landon lowered his head and dropped back into his seat.

“Landon is correct that I will use the cane. I am aware of your aversion to that implement. There is no dishonor in declining. You learned what I wished you to learn today.”

Sheldon swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing in his white throat. He licked his lips. “I hate the cane, but I will not have my partner suffer alone for my transgression.”

“Come up here, lad.”

Sheldon started to walk toward Milton and Gordon. He stumbled, and Ryan in a quick move jumped from his chair and wrapped his arm around Sheldon’s shoulders. 

“I’m OK,” Sheldon said.

“Right. I’ve got you anyway,” Ryan said, brushing off any protest Sheldon was trying to make. He walked to the front with Sheldon, kissed him on both cheeks, and helped him to a kneeling position next to Milton. He stepped to the side and clasped both his hands behind his back, his presence seeming to add comfort to a grave and serious scene, or maybe it only seemed to add comfort because Jared knew Ryan better than Milton or Gordon. Ryan made him feel included even when he was lost. It was Ryan who had whispered those words of reassurance in Jared’s ear only a minute ago.

“For those who do not know,” Gordon said, “I was and still am Milton’s mentor. When he ascended to head of the Green Mountain Boys, he declined my invitation to be released from his personal obligations toward me. He chose to remain in our relationship and to continue to yield to my authority on matters other than the leadership of the Green Mountain Boys. This morning he chose to obey me in action but not in spirit; willing and cheerful obedience is required, not begrudging compliance. For this reason he will receive three strokes with the cane. It was originally six, but Sheldon has chosen to share the punishment. To Milton’s count I will add an additional punishment stroke for his impertinence earlier. I require silence of a boy kneeling at my feet except to answer a direct question. Come.” Gordon held out his hand.

Milton rose to his feet in a smoother and steadier motion than Jared had managed earlier. He touched Sheldon’s shoulder in a quiet gesture of reassurance and allowed Gordon to lead him to a small, rectangular table. He was obviously practiced at whatever ritual Jared was watching because he bent over the table and grasped the edges without instruction. Gordon picked up a long stick like thing from the table. A cane of course, Jared thought, not able to take his eyes off the instrument. When he’d first heard the word cane, he’d thought of the heavy walking sticks. At least they weren’t being beat with that. 

The strokes were fast, one after another. Milton didn’t seem to flinch, but Jared could hear the impact against Milton’s rear. Even through the trousers it had to hurt. Jared had only felt a hand, and that had hurt enough. He’d been held securely in a lap, a place of warmth and comfort. This was over a table.

Milton stood up, his face expressionless, and Gordon hugged him briskly. It was Milton who walked to Sheldon and guided him from the kneeling position. Sheldon looked pale and shaky. Milton’s thumb stroked under Sheldon’s eye, and he leaned over his smaller partner and whispered something. Sheldon tried to smile. Sheldon bent over the table, and Gordon rested his hand on the quivering back. 

“Sheldon, do we do this?” Milton’s voice was strong and full of a warmth that made Jared long to hear someone speak to him in that voice even if it meant getting hit by that thing. Milton had moved to the front of the table his hands on his partner’s shoulders.

“Have him do it. I can’t do this talking about it.”

“Sheldon, I know you’re brave. You don’t have to prove anything. I’d already agreed to take all six.”

“No,” Sheldon said fiercely. “We share.”

“His reasoning is valid,” Gordon said. “I will not harm you.”

“Please. Do it.”

Sheldon shouted as the first stroke fell. He obviously eschewed Milton’s vow of silence. The three strokes fell one after another, and Sheldon was unashamedly crying as Gordon bodily lifted him from the table and handed him to Milton who enclosed the redhead in a suffocating hug where only a glimpse of him was visible inside Milton’s shielding body. 

“They’ll be OK.” Jared flinched as Ryan’s hand squeezed the back of his neck. His eyes had been on Milton and Sheldon; he hadn’t noticed that both Gordon and Ryan had returned to the table.

“What did he hit them with?” 

“Senior cane. They’ll have a few welts and bruises as trophies, but nothing serious,” Ryan said as if he had this sort of conversation every day at dinner. “You might get Sheldon to show you the marks tomorrow. He’ll want to show off his bravery, and you’ll be a sympathetic audience.”

“It’s very brave and very loyal to have allowed that tonight,” Gordon said. “Do not make light of his sacrifice. That lad is truly afraid of the cane.”

“No offense was meant,” Ryan said quickly. “I have great respect for Sheldon.”

Gordon nodded, his expression still stern. “He is still unsure with you. Do not give him reason to fear you.”

“No, sir.” Ryan lowered his eyes in a clear show of deference.

“Thank you, Ryan. Blade you chose well.”

Blade broke into a dazzling smile. “Thanks.”

“I will teach him manners someday, sir.” Ryan thumped Blade on the head in a pretend punishment. Even Jared could tell it hadn’t been hard and Blade was still smiling.

“Perhaps with the cane,” Landon said.

“You interested?” Ryan wrapped his arm around his Blade’s neck and kissed the top of his head.

Blade nodded and blushed, the red highlighting his cheeks. “You know me.”

“I do, but the cane is special. I would never assume with such an implement.”

“Milton’s used it several times.”

“How many?” Ryan asked, his eyes locked on Blade.

“Three times. Never for fun.” Blade flushed crimson and lowered his eyes to the table.

“Scary when you’re in trouble,” Ryan said, his voice filled with sympathy. “It’s the context. This was difficult tonight.”

“Luke and Tilden do it.”

“I didn’t know Tilden had it in him,” Ryan said, his eyebrows climbing into his hairline. “Luke? Mike?”

“Yes.” Luke’s face was as red as Blade’s. 

“I understand; it’s private,” Ryan murmured. “My apologies.”

Luke nodded and looked like he wished he could disappear under the white tablecloth as part of a magician's trick. 

“Not my thing,” Mike said with an easy shrug. “I’m like Sheldon with the damn thing. Keep it well over there.”

Everyone laughed, and Ryan ruffled Blade’s hair. “Since I have a boy who wants to play with the damn thing as you put it, Mike, I’m going to need some practice. Gordon, might I avail myself of your expertise. I have only limited experience with the cane.”

“Of course. I will arrange it.”

“Thank you, sir. And how many stripes will I have after the lesson?”

“Do you want some?”

“I will not use an implement without knowing its full effect.”

“Six of the best.” Gordon looked to where Milton and Sheldon were standing, Milton still wrapped around Sheldon. “They will be returning shortly. I ask that we refrain from this topic until after dinner.”