Luke's Journey 2

Luke’s Journey 2

Want and need, how were they different? What did Milton mean? Should he ask? Luke rubbed his hand over his thigh, a nervous gesture that Milton would catch. Milton always noticed, especially when his eyes were trained on a boy, their vast depths unfathomable.

"You don't understand?"

Luke shook his head. Like Tilden the Russian came to mind. Ne sovsem. Russian was easy. It had rules. It followed its own logic, at least most of the time.

"Submission has many colors. You are but one shade in the rainbow."

Milton was settling into lecture mode. Luke could cope with that. He was in the professional student class; lectures were simple and understandable, and he didn't have to interact. He could fade into the background.

"Ouch!"

"I recognize that look. It's a student tuning out a lecture. You do not tune out your dominant."

Luke blinked and rubbed his smarting thigh. Milton's hand had been quick, and somehow it felt right to have this small trophy of Milton's dominance.

"Good boy." Milton's soothed the spot he'd just slapped.

Why did Luke feel ridiculously pleased at those words? They were sitting on at least a semipublic bench, and Milton had slapped him and audibly called him a good boy. This wasn't Luke. This was one of the other boys’ place, a true submissive. Luke wasn't one of them; he knew he wasn't one of them. He didn’t want to be one of them, did he? Sheldon and Austin were spanked every morning. Mike had all those earrings; people stared at Mike. Luke didn't want to feel different. Luke wasn’t like the others. He wanted help, guidance, someone to fall back on. He didn't want tied up and whipped. He didn't want someone to shove a plug up his ass. That sounded repulsive, not fun.

"Luke, stay with me. This isn't the most private place to turn you over my knee for this conversation."

"Please. Please don't." They were sheltered behind some trees and near a building little used, but Luke didn't want to hang over Milton's knee, not here, not anywhere. Milton spanked hard. He'd heard it, even with a pillow over his head.

"I'd rather not," Milton said in a voice that was warm and filled with a dry and confusing humor. "You're submissive, not a pain pig. You've asked me to dominate, and now in exchange you have a duty to listen to your dominant. It's your duty to pretend that I'm riveting, even if I'm boring you to tears. Understand?"

"Yes, riveted," Luke said with a small smile.

Milton ruffled Luke's hair, absently affectionate and endlessly reassuring. "This is serious, and I don't think we've ever properly negotiated, the two of us. You're quiet and undemanding. I've neglected you, and I'm sorry. You are entitled to my attention, not just the noisy and the crazy.”

"I'm OK."

"Luke," Milton stopped him with a growl. "We just spoke of honesty. You've asked for very serious submission; the time for social lies is over. I must trust completely everything you say, just as you must trust me completely. I will be stepping close to very dangerous territory. Submission outside the bedroom or playroom is difficult and horribly easy to get wrong.”

“I don’t...I don’t want anything complicated.” Luke wanted organized. He wanted someone there. He didn’t want all the elaborate rituals of Mike or Sheldon. That looked scary and no fun. He didn’t even want to think about those things. 

Milton shook his head, a faint sad smile on his lips. “You’ve asked for submission pushing the edge of reality; it’s very complicated and very dangerous. I’m a dominant. I enjoy spanking boys. I enjoy the waves of heat off a well-beaten ass and the beautiful color. I enjoy tears in my pretty boys’ eyes. I enjoy the control and power I wield over my boys. I hit and I control for the boy’s pleasure also, otherwise I’m nothing more than an abusive bastard who should be locked away. I can’t hit you because I’m better at choosing blue shirts to go with red ties. I can’t hit you because you stayed up too late. I can spank you or put you in the corner or give you lines to write because I am the dominant and you’re the submissive and this is how we choose to play the game.”

Luke stared at the thin green shoots trying to poke through the flattened mud. He should have just stayed quiet. It was easy to fade into the background. He wasn’t one of Milton’s boys. Somehow he’d ended up in this crazy nightmare. All he wanted was the easy side. He wanted gentle discipline. Why did Milton have to make this so complicated? He wasn’t one of them; he never would be.

“Talk to me. I see it in your eyes.” Milton kissed Luke’s forehead, a chaste and safe reassurance.

Milton wasn’t going to stop looking at Luke, his eyes both kind and demanding. Luke was going to have to answer something. The easy lies were gone. Milton wanted an explanation; he’d force an explanation.

“Luke.” Milton’s voice was soft, demanding and coaxing at the same time. It was a voice rich with some force that made it impossible to ignore. “If you could have your fantasy, what would it be? Forget reality. Forget what you know or think you know about power exchanges. Let’s start from the beginning. Imagine you’re telling me a fairy tale. Imagine there is a forest with houses on stilts and evil witches.”

“Baba Yaga.”

“So your handsome prince has just rescued you from the clutches of Baba Yaga, and you’re in his sled pulled by three magnificent black horses. Their heads toss in the cold air; their feet stomp on the crisp snow. He kissed you, a perfect kiss on your lips.” Milton bent and kissed Luke gently. “Talk, my sweet and beautiful one. My kingdom is yours.”

Luke shut his eyes, trying to imagine the fairy tale. “I don’t want to wander in those dangerous woods. There are wolves and horrible monsters. My prince should protect me. He should guide me. He should know what is best. I want to follow my prince and know he’ll come after me when I’m wrong. He’ll love me enough to punish me and keep me on the right path.” Luke opened his eyes. “You can’t do that, can you? You can do all those other crazy things, but you can’t discipline me. You can’t keep me on the straight path.”

“In play, not for real.” Milton wrapped his arm around Luke’s shoulder and leaned his chin against the fair hair. “I’d be a monster if I did that for real. I’d be saying you weren’t competent, that you weren’t a complete human being. Our history is full of such relationships. You only have to look at the history of women in the world, a forced submission of the ugliest sort. By custom they were to be guarded and cherished and protected from their own incompetence and foolishness. They weren’t fit to make their own decisions. I will never treat my boys that way. You are competent, you are fit, and you are shockingly smart. You are a submissive, and I will make you use that word to describe yourself if we go further. As a submissive, you want to give up control; you want me to make decisions. It’s a thrill to obey the dominant. There is pleasure in giving yourself to me. It’s not about me teaching you to choose the correct tie or training you to go to bed on time. You will never learn those things from me as my submissive because you choose the wrong tie, so I will dominate. You push your breakfast around, so I will reprimand you. I’m not teaching you anything about eating your damn breakfast. I should be shot if I ever try something that awful. You should call Gordon, and he’ll beat me to death for it, and it would be deserved. I’m not your better. I’m not more equipped to live life. I’m your dominant with all the baggage that goes with that statement.” Milton’s voice dropped to a strained whisper. “I take pleasure in hurting the ones I love. I am a role model for no one.”

Luke reached forward and entwined his fingers in Milton’s, pulling the big fingers out of the tight fist. “You are a role model. You and Tilden taught me that I was smart and was an academic. I barely passed high school, and you’re going to be harassing me about where to hang my latest diploma. We adore you, and we trust you. I’d never have this conversation with anyone else. I couldn’t; I can barely have it with you. I’m afraid of my submission. I know it. As you taught me, I’m not stupid. I know how to analyze presented facts. I am a submissive. I might not want to admit it, but I am. Should I say it ten times fast to make you believe me?” Luke brushed Milton’s short beard with his lips. “I just can’t do what the others do. It scares me. It turns my stomach. It feels wrong to me. I know it isn’t. I know Mike enjoys it. I can’t wear my sexuality on my sleeve. I’ll never be able to.”

“Mike plays very hard, but your submission runs deeper.” Milton ran his hand down Luke’s back. He pulled Luke against him, not caring that they were too close for a public bench. “We started this conversation with you’re not a masochist. You’re confusing submission with masochism. I’m a strong dominant; I can give you deep submission without ever touching you, but it’s not real. The submission’s real enough, but not the other. It’s not discipline in the dictionary definition which you can probably recite to me in a half dozen languages. It’s a game. It’s a form of bratting at its subtlest and deepest or it’s a form of consensual slavery. Sheldon was a noisy brat; you’ll be a quiet brat, but it’s still the same desire. You want a reaction from me. You want me to enforce my dominance. I will do that. I will enjoy doing it, but I will not teach you to choose better ties. I will train you in some small ways how to be a submissive that most pleases me, but I never have a real right to punish you for being late to dinner as a means of teaching you better punctuality. You must absolutely understand this because we will hide the real reasons in the role play. You will almost be able to believe I’m punishing you for being late. Some days you may actually believe it. I’m not, and I must never. I’m dominating you because you like it, even if at that very moment you’re not happy with the results. You were late to dinner because you wanted the consequences. I am the strict head of the household, but it is an illusion, no more real than when I play the kidnapper with Mike, only more complicated because the boundaries are fuzzy instead of crisp.”

“You’ve never taught Tilden to have better tastes in ties.”

“What was he wearing today?” Milton said with a groan.

“Pink tulips,” Luke said with a small grin

“I’m burning that tie.”

“I told him it looked nice.”

“Brat.” Milton stood and pulled them both off the bench. “I want you to talk to Sheldon. He’s not insane. Don’t give me that look. He understands this, and he won’t hide anything. I know he’s more demonstrative than your tastes. And no more messing around with your career to get my attention.” Milton caught Luke’s chin and made their eyes meet. “I will do something to stop it if you do it again, and as you’re not a masochist, I will do something unpleasant and very un-fun. I will consider you being late again as good as verbal permission. Within the relationship, I will punish, and it will be punishment. You will not like it, and I strongly prefer you don’t do it.”

“Yes, sir.” Luke looked up at Milton. He shouldn’t want this; he shouldn’t want to know, but he did. “What would you do?”

“Belt.”

Luke shivered and took a deep breath. He’d seen the marks on Mike’s ass. It looked painful, but yet it was somehow exciting. He could imagine his fingers clawing at the smooth surface of the desk.

“It’s an exciting image as long as it stays in the distant realm of possibility. It’s one of the thrills of this sort of relationship, but don’t go there. You will not like it. If you want a little something, eat dinner at midnight. I think that should be worth a tiny spanking. Do you understand me?”

Luke nodded. The belt did scare him, but Milton was right; there was some kind of thrill about the threat, not that he wanted to turn the threat into reality. He just wanted the threat. Milton had known, had known what the threat would do. “You knew. You’re good at this,” Luke said, hearing the awe in his own voice.

“I’ve had some practice, but I can’t tell you more or some of the magic will be lost. Talk to Sheldon. He can teach you. He knows how to get what he wants.”