Luke's Journey 3

Luke’s Journey 3

“Hey, you want to get some pizza?”

Luke momentarily startled at Sheldon’s wave and wide grin. He tossed his bag onto the table and watched Milton’s redhead bounce through the kitchen. Going out just seemed like too much effort. He wanted to curl up with his head on Tilden’s shoulder and not move. Between his dissertation and Milton with his glaring eyes and bionic ears, Luke was fed up. He’d been a good boy; he’d been home every night on time for dinner, and he’d been carefully out the door one half hour before the train left. He wasn't ready to feel Milton's hand on his tender flesh. He'd said too much that day.

“Pizza, Lukey buddy. I didn't ask you to explain the mathematics of black holes. It's an easy question, and the answer is: Yes, Sheldon, I'd be delighted. I'll even let you get those wretched fishies on the pizza, and I promise not to throw anything. Milton would take the skin off my backside from hips to knees if I did and include as a bonus one of those awful lectures about how my behavior reflects on him. Throwing things is not approved behavior for the slave of the big cheese. Best big boy behavior all the time."

"Sheldon, I'm tired. Can we do it some other day?"

"Master, gave me the money tonight. I think that's a clue."

Sheldon's grin was so wide and innocent that it made Luke's throat dry and his heart pound in his chest. He'd seen the results of a scheming Sheldon; they weren't good. Milton was right when he'd said Sheldon got his way. Luke would have to go get pizza, and Sheldon would make him talk. God, he really hoped throwing things was off the agenda. Luke didn’t like being embarrassed in restaurants, something that didn’t seem to faze Sheldon. Luke had seen Milton physically drag Sheldon from public places, his hand on his boy’s elbow, his expression stern. Luke would die of embarrassment if that happened to him; Sheldon just smiled and did the same thing again. Milton had said it wasn’t about changing behavior, that Luke would be late because he wanted punished and scolded, not because he couldn’t be on time. Had Sheldon wanted dragged from restaurants and threatened, the big strong man scolding the little boy? No, Luke wasn’t thinking about that, and it wasn’t so often now. As the slave, Sheldon was different. He settled with a flush at the slightest raised eyebrow. He was steady now. Using the word steady for Sheldon had to be wrong. Luke was inhaling too much library dust.

“Pizza, Luke. It really was a simple question.”

“Fine. Do I have a choice?”

“I’m not the master in this house, so technically yes you have a choice. Even if I were the master, you would still have a choice because you haven’t given him appropriate permission. Do I think you should come--yes.”

“I need to recheck my sources. I can’t make a mistake.” Luke heard the exhausted whine in his voice. He swallowed hard and berated himself for sounding about two.

“Milton and Tilden have both been over your dissertation several times, and they were looking for faults. It’s good, and they’re going to burst their buttons with pride when you get one of those hoods to go on your gown and another one of those pieces of paper.”

“I can’t make a mistake. I have academic fraud on my record.”

“Jesus, boy! You were a freshman--naive, stupid, and swimming in a pond you didn’t understand. No one is going to hold that against you. Milton would bet his life and his sanity that you’re trustworthy.”

“I did it once.”

“They obviously didn’t beat you nearly hard enough if you’re still feeling guilty about it.”

“What if I did it again?”

“Since the chance is zero, I’d stop worrying.”

“Academic fraud is rampant. The statistics are scary.”

“As you don’t do it, the numbers are hardly relevant.”

“I’m afraid.”

Sheldon moved closer. He wrapped his arm around Luke’s waist and kissed his cheek. “Just stop with this. You have men in all directions who are looking out for you. Let’s get pizza.”

Sheldon’s green eyes were calm, the tease gone. He was kind, sweet, almost normal. He said master, but he looked so ordinary, gentle and inviting. Luke reached out and took his hand. “OK. Lead on.”

“Good.” Sheldon’s smile was wide, genuine, and infectious with its good humor.

The pizza place was the local student hangout. It was dark, noisy with the blare of the vintage jukebox, and packed. Sheldon wound his way to the back and a small booth under a poster of the Italian countryside. A server in tight jeans with loose hair halfway down her back dropped two greasy menus on the hard wooden surface.

“Drinks?” she asked, giving Luke a sweet smile.

“We’ll have a pitcher of Coke and a large pizza New York style with mushrooms, onions anchovies, and extra cheese. And the boy there is taken, so don’t bother to flirt.”

“Too bad.” She smiled again and tossed her hair over her back with a flick of her head. “Isn’t that true of all the good ones?”

“Probably,” Sheldon laughed, “but we tend to think it goes the other way when we see a beautiful man hanging on a girl’s arm.”

Luke was going to kill Sheldon. He didn’t have these conversations with strangers in pizza joints. Normal people didn’t have these conversations. The only good thing was it was so damn dark that his blush probably wasn’t visible.

“She thought you were cute,” Sheldon said as the server stepped out of earshot.

“I think you’re an ass. I like you better when Milton keeps you gagged and on your knees.”

“Kinky! What other fantasies do you have?”

“Shut up,” Luke hissed. “Being humiliated in restaurants is not my thing.” Luke stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“It’s raining, and I have the car keys.”

“I’ll walk.”

“You’ll be explaining to Milton why he has a hungry, wet boy on his doorstep. It might earn you a wee spanking.”

“Fuck you!”

“Happy to do that. Will you top?”

“You’re fucking impossible!” Luke practically screamed, suddenly thankful for the sixties rock and roll that drowned his voice.

“You’re the impossible one. Now sit down, unless you want a public scene you so claim to hate.”

Luke sank down on the bench and crumpled his napkin into a ball. Red and white, he thought distractedly. “I hate you.”

“You’re very pretty when your eyes look like blue glaciers.”

“Asshole!”

“Did Mike teach you all those fine words? They sound better from his mouth.”

Luke picked up the plastic basket full of red pepper flakes, parmesan cheese, and extra napkins. He hurled it at Sheldon where it bounced off the wall with a harmless clatter. Thankfully the containers must have been shatterproof as they rolled to a stop on the table.

“Oh, someone’s way too stressed. Deep breath. Luke, boy. We’re going to have pizza like civilized folks, and then I’ll take you home, and Milton will spank your ass a cherry red. You’ll feel much better.”

“I don’t want spanked.”

“You just threw a jar of desiccated red pepper at me. That is a submissive who’s forgotten the feeling of squirming through the day with welts on his ass. You so want spanked and probably a few other things you’re afraid to mention.”

“I can’t do this.” Luke gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles were white. 

The server showed up with their drinks. Luke gulped his as if it were the last moisture before a trek through the Gobi. 

“Easy. Don’t choke.”

“You’re the one making me choke,” Luke spluttered.

“No one is making you do anything. This is all about choices.” Sheldon refilled Luke’s glass from the pitcher. “Choices you don’t want to make. I’ve been there. I know what it’s about. We’re both very strong submissives without being strong masochists and without liking some of the more overtly erotic aspects. We don’t have many role models. We’re not leather boys. I find motorcycle boots a turnoff. We don’t have strong fetishes. I don’t want to lick someone’s feet or wear plastic wrap, and I sure as hell don’t want to drink urine. That’s just repulsive.” Sheldon smiled, a gentle expression, his green eyes wise instead of wild. 

“I just want… I…”

“You want to be cared for and loved and saved from yourself. You want a wise and kind man to guide you and protect you and punish you with love and kindness when you’re wrong, and Milton said no. He said he wasn’t a wise and kind and a perfect guide.”

“Did he tell you?”

Sheldon leaned his elbows on the table and fiddled with the paper placemat. “I’ve heard the same words thousands of times. He’s the dominant, I’m the submissive, and everything else is a no go. It seems so unfair when the proof is right in front of us that he’s the perfect guide, the man to make decisions because he’s wise and calm and brave, and he says no.”

“Why?”

“God, I asked myself that question a million times. It would be just so easy if he would do it. I would be safe and happy, and the world would be grand, and his answer was always no.” Sheldon stirred his soda with the straw and looked down into its depths as if searching for wisdom. “We’re submissives. We don’t always understand the force behind a dominant, but it’s not all clean and nice. Dominance contains darkness. Our dream is dominance without darkness. It doesn’t exist. Milton harnesses and subdues his dark powers every day. He fears the darkness. He understands his darkness, and for that reason he is safe. He can’t be the guide, the loving disciplinarian, the man who always knows best. To do that he would have to disregard his darkness and turn into the monster he so fears. I’ve finally accepted the reality, and I’ve taken what I can have which is slavery. I faced the monster he hides inside himself, and I embraced the fire. I am his slave, I am the shield to his sword, and my will is his. I tend the fire. I rake the coals and sit in the flicker of its flames. The glow of its embers warms my very essence.” Sheldon smiled and smacked his own thigh. “God, I’m sounding like some romantic idiot. The pizza better get here quick before I say anything even more stupid.”

The pizza did come, way bigger than the two of them could eat. Luke concentrated on eating. He could do that. He could savor the cheese and the sharp saltiness of the anchovies. Luke peeked up at Sheldon. The man had a piece of cheese hanging from his lip. He looked so normal, and he knelt and called Milton master.

“You can ask? I was ordered to be a good boy, and I would’ve been anyway. I don’t want to see you struggle. I did enough of it myself; I don’t need to see the replay.”

“Will it hurt?”

“You’ve been spanked before.”

“By Tilden.”

Sheldon nodded. “Milton’s bigger, stronger, and a dominant with all the badges of dominance on his sleeve. He can make it hurt plenty. He is a sadist, and he won’t pretend otherwise, but he’s also kind and loves all us very much. You want to cry; you want to cuddle; you want to submit. Milton knows that. He knows it’s not about beating you black and blue the way he does Mike. This is about trust. You have to trust him to crawl across his lap and be at his mercy. Luke, you are truly at his mercy. That is what our submission is about. It’s not about wearing a red tie versus a blue tie or not chucking lemonade at the irritating wannabe doms. I know throwing food is for kids, and you know how to dress yourself. It’s about being at his mercy, submitting to the master’s will. You talk about control over your daily life, not fun in bed. That’s the deep and crazy stuff; that’s what I do. Master’s trying to give you a way to play at it with the baby bratting. You control it to some degree as a brat. I handed him everything on a silver platter with a gold bow. I don’t think you want to go there, at least not now.” Sheldon smiled slightly. “I don’t think I want you there either, not that ultimately it will be my choice. That’s what being a slave is. I’ll swallow hard and accept that I might have to share my space.”

Luke chewed slowly on his pizza. He could see himself over Milton's knee, the big hand on his vulnerable flesh, the feel of that heavy arm as he was pulled close. The first swat would be hard; his flesh would redden at the first strike. He could imagine the burn building, the tears starting to drip from his eyes. He wanted held afterward; he wanted to cuddle against a soft shirt. Tilden had always sat with him for hours, his delicate fingers combing through Luke's soft curls. Tilden had sung the Russian ballads he preferred in a rich and sympathetic tenor. Milton was the unknown.

"Will you tell him about throwing the basket?" Luke asked not sure which answer he wanted to hear.

"Do you want me to?"

"I don't know," Luke muttered, picking at the crust of his pizza.

"I think I should. You need a push."

"Into a fire."

"Into a fire you want and understand."

"Want?" Luke's voice was plaintive. 

"Yes, want. We're not broken or immature or lunatics. We're submissives, and Milton calls to us like a salmon heading home to spawn. You hear his call; answer it."

"I'm afraid. It was easier before."

"We're all afraid sometimes. It's part of the power. Sometimes it's a good afraid, sometimes it's not. You have a safeword. Milton will always stop. You have the ultimate control; you've only allowed Milton to borrow it. We are submissive, yet we hold the final power. It is the ultimate contradiction of this relationship. I give Milton everything, but I could take it away in an instant. I wouldn't, but I could."

"It's so complicated."

"It would be easy to pretend it's really about being late to work, and Milton won't let you."

Luke shrugged.

"You don't have to hide it from me. I wanted the same thing. My life wasn't nearly as in order as yours. I just wanted to be told what to do without all this other rigamarole. I didn't consider myself kinky. The first time I was dragged to Vermont I about died. Landon and Gordon played in front of me, and it took Milton an hour to talk me out of a locked bathroom. I was involved with a man who spanked me when I was naughty, and his mentor shoved metal rods up his lover's penis. I'd had the talk with Milton, and I'd nodded and said yes, but I didn't use the word submissive for myself, and I was deep in a pool of the scariest shit I'd ever seen and totally confused. Landon and Gordon wore suits, and they controlled a financial empire. They wore ties to dinner, and they had a dungeon. All I wanted was to lean on Milton and not turn into a flipping idiot every two seconds." Sheldon gave Luke a half grin. "I was hell on wheels; you can imagine."

"What did you do?"

"I bratted. That's what I do when I'm stressed. I went to dinner in flip flops and ragged T-shirts. I refused to eat anything but hamburgers and chicken nuggets. I dumped gallons of bubble bath into the pool. In short, I would have made a horrid twelve-year-old proud. I put a Whoopee cushion on Gordon's chair and was banished to the kitchen. 'Get your boy under control' were the words as he pointed to the kitchen."

"Did Milton kill you?"

"No, Landon came in and saved the day. He kicked Milton out and went after me. I learned the rules that day; Milton was telling me, but I wasn't hearing."

"Landon beat Mike."

"He didn't touch me. He only pointed out that I was beyond Milton's limits and that Milton would withdraw as a dominant if I didn't stop. He also taught me about Milton and what a dominant feels. I was a self-centered bastard. I was only thinking about what I wanted and not the burden I placed on Milton. It took me years to truly get that." Sheldon touched his collar. "I understand now. I understand the fire. I understand the danger, and I understand the magic. Milton controls a deep passion and a fearsome force. He's not an altruistic teacher whether he strikes with his hand or his whip. He is the beast he chains inside, a beast I want, a beast you want, but it's not about your favorite uncle, scout leader, or older brother teaching you to behave. It's about the power of dominance pure and simple: the power to frighten, the power to love, the power to hurt, and the power to heal. It is a power that is fearsome and torturous in the wrong hands. As Master says, he hurts those he loves. It's not benign with colorful rainbows and pink unicorns. We must all handle it with care and reverence and never take it for granted. Milton will love you and care for you with every fiber of his being, but it's on his terms. Embrace and obey your master, but know the reality also."

"I don't want a master," Luke said in a shaky voice. "I wanted something simple and easy."

"Only it's neither." Sheldon reached across and brushed Luke's cheek. "You're a bright boy; you'll get it. Now let's go. I need to arrange a tiny spanking for you."