Mike's Saga 20

Mike’s Saga 20

Mike flipped the DVD case in his hand. He was the gay boy; of course, he’d be stuck with doing the advertising work for the gay film festival, but shit he hadn’t expected this. Lovely films about gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender weren’t the only things planned, but vivid films about power and kink were also on the agenda. Did they know he was a boy at work? God, he hoped not. His boss was already hopelessly smug with his too easy and too fake smile and his ready pitch for all the clients. The man had about snickered when he’d come into Mike’s cubicle, carrying a box of DVDs, and draped himself against the wall.

“You’re in charge of this. It should be right up your alley.”

Gay, Mike didn’t hide that. Submissive, he hid that. Sheldon went to work with a collar visible on his neck. Mike could barely tolerate the thin leather bands he wore around each wrist. They did look like jewelry, but still he knew they were cuffs. They represented his willingness to submit to Milton, to be the good boy that Milton so strongly demanded. Mike had taken off the hated strips of leather twice and been caught once. He didn’t want the promised consequences if he took them off again. His submissiveness would be painted across the sky in great big letters.

“Mike, I agreed to carve out areas that weren’t under my direct control, but you defy me and disrespect all that is us, and I’ll rescind the privilege. Think about what you want, boy, because the choice is yours.” Milton in that soft tone had been soul piercingly terrifying. Mike didn’t doubt he’d be brought to heel in the worst ways. Milton knew which buttons to push, and he wasn’t refraining from the pushing. Mike had thought he’d known Milton, knew who he was at his most demanding, but Mike had been living with fuzzy rainbows over his eyes. Milton demanded everything. He was relentless, and Mike wanted nothing but more.

Mike had always thought the praise had been silly. Good boy was for your pet, but Milton had done something to Mike. He wanted to hear those two words in Milton’s soft purr; he wanted to feel Milton’s hand around his neck in that gentle and reassuring squeeze. Milton had rewarded Mike over the weekend. He could still feel the ache and warmth in his ass if he tried hard enough. Milton in a scene was stunning. He’d stood over Mike, his shirt off showing his thick pelt of salt and pepper chest hair. His black jeans had been stuffed into shiny black boots, and the wide belt around his hips had soon found a much better place whistling down on Mike’s ass. That had been good. Pissed Milton demonstrating his power over Mike wasn’t so good. Stomp and snarl and drive everyone insane with his foul mood, and Milton became all dark magic. God, he’d found that out more than once the hard way.

***

“Upstairs.” Milton dropped his napkin on the table, and his fingers, deceptively soft, stroked Austin’s hair.

Mike stood, not sure what to do with those eyes directed at him. Black fire wasn’t a good look on Milton.

“My apologies, but no one else needs to be disturbed,” Milton said in his most proper tone and rose from the table. He didn’t use words; he jerked his head a fraction, and Mike ran up the stairs in front of the demon.

Mike stood in the large bedroom and wished there was a place to hide in its airiness. The bed was made with its usual understated cream coverlet with the extra blankets folded at its foot. Austin’s pink unicorn sat on a pillow as if taunting anyone to speak of its silliness.

“Strip.” 

Strip. Dress. Eat. It was one of those days. Mike had an adult grasp of language skills; Milton could use big and complicated words. Mike dumped his clothes in an untidy heap. Milton ignored the mess and bent over Mike with a ring of metal. Mike flinched at the touch of cold and grunted as he felt the sharp points.

“Fuck!”

“I will. On your hands and knees. Ass up.”

The slap on his ass was eye watering as Mike scrambled to find his place. The rough wool rug dug into his knees as Milton’s finger slicked his opening with lube. The preparation was perfunctory at best. Milton wasn’t a huge man, but he wasn’t pencil thin. Mike grunted as his opening was breached and braced himself as Milton took him with brutal efficiency. He was a body, a hole to pleasure the boss man’s cock. There was no pleasure for Mike; even the battering across his prostate was painful as his own cock struck the spikes if it grew beyond limp. He shut his eyes and willed himself to go elsewhere. He felt the tears on his cheeks. He’d been baiting; he deserved this, but it didn’t make it any easier. He choked back a sob as Milton’s pelvis ground into him. He’d be done soon. This would have to be over soon.  The teeth were sharp on his shoulder as Milton came. He was going to have a nasty bruise for sure.

Milton pulled out and wiped himself with Mike’s tossed off shirt. “Up, boy.”

Mike struggled to his feet, trying to hide his confusion of emotions. God, he wanted Milton’s arms around him. He wanted the gentleness he saw with Austin. Shit! He wasn’t a wimp.

“Mike.” Milton’s finger stroked the damp cheek. He drew Mike into a crushing and protective hug. “Why didn’t you safeword?”

“I deserved it.”

“No one deserves the way you look now. I won’t rape you.”

Mike leaned against Milton’s broad chest; he felt the scratchiness of Milton’s old-fashioned sweater vest against his naked skin. “It was sex to put me in my place. I understand that. I am your submissive. I should actually submit,” Mike said bitterly.

“You did submit.” Milton fingers played through Mike’s short hair. “You submitted through something you obviously hated, through something that was very wrong.”

“Don’t be melodramatic.” Mike pushed away from Milton. “I didn’t like it: I deserve things I don’t like.”

“You were crying. I have to beat you raw to make you cry.”

“I like pain and you know it.” Mike bit his lip and stared up at Milton’s troubled eyes. “I don’t like being powerless, I don’t like bending to your will, and you just very effectively reminded me of my place. Wasn’t that the point anyway? Teach me I’m the submissive; remind me that you require me to submit?”

“Yes,” Milton whispered, his eyes full of something Mike couldn’t identify. Maybe sorrow, maybe compassion, maybe self-loathing.

“Mission accomplished. I learned my lesson.”

“It’s not worth it when I truly hurt you. It’s unforgivable.”

“Fuck it!” Mike kicked his barefoot against the rug. “I didn’t fucking safeword! I’m a big boy. You took Austin to task when I screwed up for not safewording with me. I can protect myself. I don’t need you looking over your shoulder all the time. I’m not glass.”

“I’ve made you emotionally vulnerable. It’s part of this relationship. It’s my role to protect you when you’re vulnerable, not exploit it.”

“Gordon exploits it. Landon exploits it. What makes you different?” Mike grabbed his pants off the floor and jerked them on, not caring that he didn’t have his boxers and that Milton’s cum mixed with lube was dripping from his ass in small dribbles. “You’re not Superman. You don’t have magic powers. I’ve been an ass for years. I deserve to get kicked to my place. You were very effective.” Mike shuddered and felt a new wave of tears break loose.

“Come here.” Milton hauled Mike onto the bed. “Shh. I want to love you now. I shattered you across the floor. Let me have this now. I need it. You need it.”

The kisses were soft and delicate. Somehow Milton had lost his clothes, and hot skin rubbed against hot skin. The horrible steel with the spikes was gone along with Mike’s pants. Milton’s mouth was so hot against his flesh.

“Please. I can’t...I’m going…”

 Milton pulled off, his words breathless. “Go ahead.”

Mike had seen Milton do this with Sheldon, but Milton didn’t give Mike this pleasure. He didn’t effortlessly swallow his difficult boy. Mike couldn’t think. He exploded as Milton’s tongue pleasured the sensitive flesh.

Milton swallowed easily and licked his lips. “Good boy. Now sleep.” Milton arm was unmovable around Mike’s chest.

****

Mike knew what was on the video. He’d been so young, so naive. He couldn’t bear to watch it, and he had to create the advertising campaign. The other two DVD’s had been easy, pure porn and not very good. He wasn’t ready to watch The Boys of the Green Mountain. He’d seen the theater release, but that was years ago, and this was the extended version, hours and hours of young and stupid Mike.

He should go to dinner. It was Friday. Milton was anal about family dinner, hiding above the garage and staring at a TV screen wouldn’t cut it. 

He looked so happy in some of these scenes, and he looked so incredibly young. Mike had leaned into the gentle affection that Milton and Tilden were offering. They’d shown Tilden prodding Mike and Luke through their homework; they’d shown a quiet family dinner interrupted once by a bread throwing contest between Sheldon and his little brother.

“Hey.”

Oh, God, Milton had found him. “Uh, sorry, work.”

Milton watched the screen with a raised eyebrow. “Work?”

“We’re doing the advertising for the film festival. It’s my project.”

“And that involves missing dinner?”

“No, sir.”

Milton dropped on the sofa beside Mike and wrapped his arm around Mike’s shoulder. “You were very young then. Are you embarrassed?”

“Don’t know,” Mike mumbled, truly not knowing his feelings. He looked happy and content on the screen. What had happen? Why was it so hard now?

Milton watched the film for a few moments, rubbing Mike’s shoulder and drawing him closer. “We mixed submission and life guidance. In hindsight, we made a mess of it. We confused you both.”

“I was happy then. I’m not that kid anymore.”

“No. How do I make you happy now?”

It was easier to talk to Milton with both their eyes on the screen. Mike could almost pretend he was just an actor. “I’m better.”

“We’re not there.” Milton kissed the top of Mike’s head. 

“I’m trying.”

“I never said you weren’t.” Milton’s lips brushed Mike’s ear. “Have you watched the part with Landon and Gordon?” Mike shook his head. “It’s on the second DVD. It was never shown. This was a film designed to make our lifestyle easier and more understandable to the general public. The tough stuff was left on the cutting room floor. Maybe that was a mistake.”

****

Landon walked down the winding stairs and flicked on the lights that were swinging raw and exposed on bare wires overhead. He was alone, a microphone clipped to his yellow tie and the cameraman well out of sight. 

“We’ve shown the easy stuff, the gentle and the sweet as the dear tops love and guide their young men in the confusion of life. Now I’ll show you the part that makes films only suitable for the X-rated theaters, and then will try to explain how it all fits together.”

Landon pushed open a heavy door with a melodramatic creak. Inside displayed on all walls and surfaces were the instruments of torture. Whips of all sort hung from hooks. Cages and plugs were displayed across the open shelving. Landon stepped to the cross and spread himself across the surface.

“I enjoy a good beating. For me it’s not about teaching or training. It’s about pleasure.” He bent a crop in his hands and swung it through the air. “The whistle of a whip through the air is magical. I adore the sting across my flesh. This isn’t about me doing my homework or not causing a ruckus at dinner.” Landon smiled at the camera. “I’m too old for homework, and when I cause a ruckus at dinner it’s intentional.”

Landon moved from the cross and sat on the edge of a bondage table. He smoothed his pants and crossed his ankles. “I’m a masochist. I enjoy pain. Gordon and I play here. We are not embarrassed by this; we will not hide our sexuality despite the fact that even today it is still considered a perversion by some. Top and brat might be easy for the general public to swallow. The purity of pain and pleasure disguised. I am Gordon’s submissive. I will not hide behind any other word. For all you have seen on the first film, my dear audience, the boys are submissives. There is pleasure in the rules and the boundaries; there is pleasure in the strike of flesh against flesh. It is our way. Gordon is no more my guide than any partner or lover in any relationship. I control the fire of his disposition not vice versa. I always bow my head to him, but it is not because I can’t function as ably as he. It’s not because I’m not capable of organizing my own life. It is because I am the submissive in this relationship.”

****

Milton flicked the remote and the screen darkened. “Mike, you’re a submissive. It has nothing to do with youth or capability or any of the garbage that it was hidden behind when you first came to us. Submissive does not mean incapable, weak, or needing repair. What do I have to do to make you believe that? I want you to enjoy and relish who you are. Help me get you there.”

Mike swallowed hard and tried to come up with something to say. Milton was too damn kind. It was easier stretched across the desk and at his mercy. “It’s better,” he finally managed to mumble.

“Can you say more without me beating you first?” Milton’s hand shifted to rest against Mike’s ass. “You did miss dinner. I have a good reason to beat you to a beautiful cherry red.”

“I like red,” Mike said with a grin that he knew looked more desperate than cheeky.

“Kneel for me.” Milton gave Mike a gentle push for the sofa. “Hands behind your back.”

Mike heard the clink of the short chains being attached to his wristbands and tried to settle into his submission. Milton was notorious for leaving Mike like this, kneeling and loosely bound. He was better at it now; he didn’t want to kill someone after fifteen minutes. He could make it to a whole thirty minutes before murderous thoughts flooded his brain.  Sheldon, the hyperactive, roll tossing redhead could kneel for hours. He called it peaceful and meditative. This was from the boy who never kneeled when he was younger. Sheldon had made some snide comment about it in the film and smarted off to Milton in multiple scenes. He was so different now--peaceful, composed.

“What are you thinking about?” Milton’s fingers threaded through Mike’s hair.

“Sheldon.”

“He was an awful brat back then, not that I didn’t love him. We weren’t ready for what we have today. It was the best we could do, as imperfect as it was.” Milton massaged Mike’s scalp, his fingers both firm and gentle. “It was the best we could do for you and Luke back then also. Maybe it wasn’t good enough; you’ve both struggled since. I like to think I’ve learned something and that I’m doing better with Austin. It’s hard to know where and how to draw the lines when the submissive is so young and inexperienced. I tried to make it easy for you and Luke by allowing the dominance to plug gaps in life experience without explaining the wheres and the whys. It was a mistake.”

“I don’t know. I looked happy back then.”

“Were you?”

“It wasn’t complicated.”

“And now it is?” Milton shifted to his feet, his hand resting on Mike’s shoulder.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Mike shrugged. “Dunno.”

“That’s not an answer with me. You think about it while I find something to eat up here. I’m going to feed you as you did miss dinner, boy, and I find feeding a beautiful kneeling boy relaxing.”

Mike groaned. Being fed was one of those complicated things, something that tore his brain in two different directions. He hated the helplessness, he hated being at Milton’s mercy for every morsel, but he also enjoyed the attention and the strange contentment that settled over him.

“You did miss dinner. You can consider it punishment if you must.”

“It’s not, is it?” Mike asked, watching Milton’s khaki clad legs drift toward the mini fridge.

“It puts you at my mercy without me beating you bloody. For you that might be punishment. It’s not meant to be punishing; it’s meant to help you find your headspace, but it’s different for every submissive. What does it feel like to you, all preconceived notions set aside?”

“Care taking.”

“Is that bad or good?”

Mike watched Milton cut cheese and lay several handfuls of wheat crackers on a platter.  Not answering was never an option with Milton. “Both.”

“Why?”

“Can’t you ever be satisfied? You’re not my fucking shrink!”

“I’m your dominant, and as such I have certain rights among those having my questions answered.”

“You don’t blather about how you feel all the time. You look like granite and kick my ass.”

“Mike.” Milton carried the platter of food over and sat on the sofa. “Eat.” He held a cracker topped with cheddar cheese to Mike’s lips. “I like to feed my boys. I like the time alone; I like the calmness of the dominance. I like caring for you. My dominance is not only about sadism, not that my sadistic streak isn’t broad and wide. My dominance is also about this, a beautiful boy basking in his own submission. I can’t welt you from shoulders to knees without also doing this; you have to accept that. It’s your turn now.”

Mike slowly chewed the sharp cheese. He wanted more time; Milton was so damn honest. It wasn’t easy putting his feelings out there. “I like this.” Mike hesitated, licking the crumbs off his lips. “Sort of.” Mike looked up into Milton’s dark eyes. Would that be enough? Would he want more? He always wanted more. “Don’t make me.”

“Don’t make you what? You’re eating dinner, and we’re having a nice chat.”

Mike snorted. “You’re feeding me and interrogating me. There is nothing nice about this chat.”

“Is that how you feel?”

“Fuck it!” Mike scrambled to his feet.

“Get down or I’ll tie you down.”

Milton would; Mike had seen enough examples of it. Getting his hands tied behind his back was the fucking new normal, but Milton could be creative with the bondage. Tied to the floor didn’t sound fun. Mike dropped back to his knees with a thud and a silent curse.

“I probably deserve every name you’re calling me right now. So why is this so hard?” Milton ran a finger down Mike’s cheek. “Come on, boy, talk to me.”

“Fuck you! I don’t need this.”

“You came back. I’d say you need something.”

“I’m a masochist,” Mike spat. “You’re a sadist; you say so yourself. I need to be hit. I don’t need all this shit. I’m a big boy. I don’t need a care taker. I can take care of myself. I’m not some stupid kid anymore. I’m not weak. I don’t need a parent.” Mike gulped and bitterly cursed the tears that were trying to escape. Crying with your hands tied was just fucking awful.

Milton’s fingers tugged Mike’s hair, anchoring him with a sudden wave of pain, a feeling he welcomed and embraced. “Let’s get something straight, young man. Firstly, I’m not your parent or a parent substitute, not now, not ever. I’m a dominant; I’m a sadist; I’m a control freak. I also try to be a halfway decent human being, which means when you were flailing through life I tried to help. Maybe I did a disastrous job at it, but you, boy, did need guidance. Tilden and I weren’t going to let you fail for real. It’s not in our nature. I probably should have explained how I was using my dominance and your submission. I do with Austin, and for that I apologize. Secondly, no man is an island. Being cared for and about does not make you weak or a child; it makes you loved, and somehow I’ve decided I love your pain in the neck ass. You may be the bane of my existence right now, but I love you, and you will learn to cope with my affection as well as my whip. Thirdly, I only hit if I can also love. You’re stuck with that, boy, so swallow it down and get used to it.”

“You love me?”

“Shit, boy.” Milton scooped Mike off the floor with a flailing tug and surrounded him with his arms and body; his fingers worked the chains loose behind Mike’s back “You didn’t hear me swear,” he whispered into Mike’s ear. “I love you. Do I need to hire an airplane and have it drag a sign behind it?”

“I came with Tilden. You love Tilden; I know that.”

Milton lifted Mike’s chin, let their eyes meet, and gently kissed his lips, the touch and promise of a lover. “I want you.”

“You wouldn’t have chosen me alone,” Mike challenged. He was the extra. Milton didn’t want him; he was the responsibility like he’d always been.

“I had Sheldon, but we aren’t talking either or; we’re talking polyamory. I love each of you and all of you.” Milton kissed Mike’s forehead and shut his eyes for a moment as if he were trying to draw his thoughts together. “I never liked polyamory. I never thought it worked well, and now we are six, and I wouldn’t give a one of you up. You’re each different. Tilden has always been my friend, my secret and perhaps illicit desire. I won’t deny that. Sheldon is my first and my slave. Austin is the cub who brings out every protective molecule in my body. Luke is beautiful and brilliant and still baffles me. And you, my boy, are Mike, a wonderful boy who can enjoy my darkest parts. It’s a thrill to touch you; it’s an honor to be trusted to bring you that pleasure. I want you. You are not an extra. You are not baggage that came with Tilden. You are a magnificent and wonderful submissive, and I’ve had the incredible pleasure of watching you grow from that scruffy boy who was dragged home by an exasperated Tilden to the wonderful man you are today.”

“You really want me? I’m not a duty.”

“Mike, I take you to my bed. I beat you. I don’t do either of those as a duty. I take those pleasures from men I love.” Milton brushed his lips against Mike’s and slowly deepened the kiss. “Good boy,” Milton breathed, stroking Mike’s face and smiling as Mike’s tongue snaked out to catch Milton’s fingers. “Good boy.”

“Please. Need.”

“Come here.”

The bed in the playroom was always made in pristine order. Mike fell back against the soft blankets, limp and compliant with every nerve thrumming with need. He watched glassy-eyed as Milton stripped off his clothes, his body still trim, his shoulders still wide from his days as a farm boy.

“Someone has too many clothes on.” Milton’s fingers were quick on Mike’s shirt. Milton’s lips teased the gold nipple rings as he shucked Mike’s pants down. “Mine.” Milton licked a trail down Mike’s smooth abdomen. His hard cock banged against Mike’s thigh. “What do you want?”

“Love me. Please.”

“Always.” Milton pressed a deep kiss to Mike’s mouth as his slick finger found Mike’s opening. “So good for me. So beautiful.”

“More. Please.”

“Patience. Gentle and calm has its merits. Let me love you.”

“Yes, sir.”

****

“Shouldn’t you be getting back?” Mike asked sleepily. He was tucked against Milton’s chest, a strong arm slung over his hip.

“No.”

“Sheldon…”

“He and Austin will curl up. They’re beautiful together. Neither will top, but one night won’t kill them.”

“Doesn’t Sheldon?”

“Only if I twist his arm and usually only if I’m there.”

“He’s smart.”

“Mike.” Milton brushed his fingers through Mike’s hair. “Are you still fretting over what happened with Austin?”

“I hurt him. I shouldn’t have tried to top.”

“Sexually you’re more versatile. I don’t mind, and neither does Austin. If you top in other ways, you let me teach you, or I will mind.”

“I’m not a switch.”

“No, you’re not, but it doesn’t mean you can’t play a little with the cuddly ones with my permission and my supervision.”

“Bossy.”

“Very. Now go to sleep. I want you as my cuddly one.”

“I’m not cuddly,” Mike groused, but didn’t lift his head from where it was pillowed on Milton’s chest.

“I am, and I call the shots, so get in practice, boy. Now sleep and no more chat. As head of this menagerie, I don’t get to sleep in, so I need to take my rest when I can get it.”

“The hardship of being the top,” Mike snickered and entwined his legs around Milton. “I’ll throw you a pity party.”

“And I’ll throw you a beating, brat.” Milton swatted Mike’s hip and rolled them both onto the opposite side. “Sleep.”