My Man Blade 3

My Man Blade 3

The bar was smoky. Ryan had forgotten that in private clubs smoking was still permitted. He reached for his glass of warm, flat beer, and dropped a handful of crumpled ones on the counter. At least they hadn’t looked too closely at his license. Even in this bad light, it was an obvious fake.

This was his fourth mug of beer, and it wasn’t making the atmosphere any better. Ryan would have liked something stronger, but mixed drinks were probably out, and he didn’t like straight whiskey. He could drink gasoline without paying ten dollars a glass for it, and he would have stayed home at the dorms if the sole purpose of the outing was to get smashed. He thought he was interested in this, whatever this was. He looked around the room again at the patrons, men with beer guts and too much facial hair and wannabe boys in jeans that adhered to all the most private parts and little else. Nothing was left to anyone’s imagination  A few of the subs sported collars and leashes and followed behind greasy looking men dressed as poor imitations of Nazi motorcycle troopers.

Ryan knew he was attracted to this sort of thing, well not what he was seeing here, but he was drawn to the idea of dominance. He clutched his glass and took another swallow, or at least he’d been interested enough to come here. He’d tried to force the idea from his mind, but he kept seeing a willing boy at his feet, a boy he could love and cherish, but also a boy he would spank, who would flash his red ass at Ryan and grin over his shoulder. This wasn’t what he was looking for, men who talked too loud and dressed in ridiculous get up. These were men pressing the middle aged doldrums or bored in a cubicle with a suit on all day running from themselves.

“You look out of place here.”

Ryan grunted and leaned away from the voice without looking. He didn’t want to be picked up by any of these men. They were too old by half anyway.

“Are you even old enough to be here?”

“Not interested,” Ryan hissed between clenched teeth.

“How do you know? You haven’t even looked at me.”

Ryan spun around in his seat. He was a big man, and he knew his glare would usually send most people packing, and he wanted to send this person packing. He opened his mouth and stopped. The man standing at his shoulder was ordinary, or at least ordinary as far as dress. He was wearing jeans, moderately worn and not painted on tight with a black turtleneck and scuffed boots on his feet. It was his eyes that were extraordinary, a shade of gray that was almost charcoal and unwavering. 

“I’m not impressed by your size or your temper. How old are you? And for real, not what you showed the bouncers.”

“Twenty,” Ryan said, forcing himself to meet that steady gaze and swallowing the sir that came unbidden to his lips.

“All right, boy, come with me.”

The man didn’t touch him, but Ryan found himself following him to the parking lot. There was something about the man’s voice, his expression, his carriage of undeniable control and authority that made Ryan trail behind.

“How much have you had to drink?”

“A few beers.”

“You’re underage. Even with only a few, you can’t drive. You’re going home with me tonight.”

The last was said with such easy authority that Ryan almost found his feet following the man to his car, but he stopped himself. He didn’t know this man. He hadn’t even been given a name. Getting into a car with a stranger would be stupid.

The man reached into his back pocket of his jeans, fished out his wallet, and handed Ryan his license. “That’s my current address. Call a friend and tell him you’ll be there for the night, and you’ll check in tomorrow by eight. Have them call you also in two hours. Never go with a strange dom without making these arrangements. You have some size, but that still doesn’t always make you safe. I could slip something in your drink or con you into letting me tie you up.”

Ryan hesitated, holding onto the license. 

“Call. You don’t want a DUI on your record, and all I’m going to do tonight is put you in my spare room. We’ll talk tomorrow when there’s no alcohol in your system.”

Ryan fumbled for his phone, still watching this man, Gavin Randolph according to his license. It made sense. Ryan didn’t think his driving was impaired, but he had been drinking with his only nourishment a handful of stale pretzels.

“Call, boy.” Gavin’s eyes stared into Ryan’s face. Ryan stared back; he wasn’t going to be intimidated by this man. “Kid.” Gavin’s voice had softened. “You’ll be a top some day, but you’ll not win this staring contest with an experienced master. For now, you’re a boy. Drop your eyes and make the call.”

Ryan found himself pushing the buttons on his phone. There was something about this Gavin Randolph that made Ryan’s body obey even as his mind rebelled. He wasn’t a boy, but this man was a master. It sent a thrill through Ryan that he couldn’t explain or understand. He wanted this.

“Good boy. You’ll be trainable.”

Ryan bristled, but his roommate had picked up the phone, his voice slurred and hard to hear over the loud music in the background. “Bill, it’s Ryan,” he shouted into the phone. “I’m spending the night with a friend.” Ryan read out the name and address and asked Bill to call him in two hours as well as promising to call in the morning. Ryan shrugged and flipped the phone closed. “Happy now?” he challenged.

“No, call someone who is sober and will remember the conversation in the morning.”

“He wasn’t that drunk.”

“I could hear the music from over here. Fraternity party, Friday night, he’s drunk.”

“It’s cold out here,” Ryan stomped his feet and inwardly flinched as the petulant sound in his voice.

“Yes, it is cold, and it will get colder if I make you take your shirt off.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“You don’t want to find out what I will and won’t do in a public parking lot which is visible from the all night grocery next door.”

Ryan stared at this man. He was a good sized man with powerful shoulders and a determined line to his jaw, but he wasn’t near the size of Ryan. Ryan would easily take him in a fight, yet it was Ryan who felt intimidated and found himself flipping through his contacts for his lab partner in chemistry. Carl didn’t party and would probably be in his dorm room watching reruns of sixties science fiction shows. The conversation was short and to the point with Carl promising to call in a couple hours.

“Better,” Gavin said with a brisk nod, “and I didn’t even have to undress you. Smart boy. We’ll pick your car up tomorrow.” Gavin placed his hand on Ryan’s back and guided him toward a silver car. The lights flashed as Gavin pressed the button on the key fob. “Get in.”

Ryan found himself climbing into the car. He didn’t know this man; Ryan hesitated, but he still slid into the seat and buckled his seatbelt. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Did Ryan want to venture this with a stranger?

“Easy. All I’m going to do tonight is feed and water you and put you to bed. We’ll talk about this in the glare of daylight when you don’t have any alcohol in your system.”

The drive wasn’t far. Ryan had recognized the address; it was on the best side of town and right on the water. The house lights came on in response to the motion of the car. Ryan let Gavin lead him up a well lit path to the back door. Inside the kitchen was bright, cheerful and spotless. There were even several small potted plants blooming in the windowsill over the sink.

“Sit.” Gavin pulled out a high backed kitchen chair from behind a solid country table with a top worn from years of use. Gavin moved to a cabinet, took out a glass, and turned on the water. “Drink. Alcohol dehydrates you. You saw me fill it from the tap; it’s not adulterated. Gavin opened the refrigerator and tossed a package of cheese and several packages of meat on the table along with a loaf of bread from the cupboard. “Mustard? It’s all I have. I don’t like mayo and have an apple. I like turkey and swiss on rye with mustard. Remember that because you’ll be expected to do the cooking.”

“I can’t cook.” He wasn’t going to cook for this man. Why had he even answered the question?

“I usually find the strap is a good incentive to figuring out the stove,” Gavin said with a smile that was anything but reassuring. He reached forward and ruffled Ryan’s hair. Ryan ducked from the unwanted attention. “I won’t do anything until we talk tomorrow. So relax. Bad beer on and empty stomach is a no go. Have a sandwich, and I’ll show you up to the spare room. We will talk tomorrow. You didn’t just stumble into that bar.”

Ryan started to answer.

“Kid, I know you were there for several hours. If it had been an accident, you would have fled immediately. Now eat.”

Why couldn’t he lie quicker? If he was as quick on his feet as those hot shots in the spy thrillers, Ryan could have spun a tale about investigating for the college paper. Gavin was watching him, his eyes moving from the sandwich fixings to Ryan’s face.

“Boy, make a sandwich.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Tough.” Gavin grabbed two pieces of bread and stuck a pile of sliced roast beef and a piece of cheese between them. “Eat.”

Ryan picked up the dry sandwich. For some reason, Gavin’s voice made him feel compelled to eat, and it would be rude to refuse. He was a guest at this lunatic’s house, and this Gavin seemed obsessed with meat and cheese. At least he wasn’t trying to get in Ryan’s pants, or this was the craziest foreplay Ryan had ever seen.

“Good boy.”

“I’m not a boy,” Ryan said through gritted teeth.

“You’re not even old enough to drink, young man.” Gavin straddled the chair across the table and stared at Ryan, his gray eyes unblinking, but not hostile. “That makes you a boy in my eyes. Eat your dinner, little boy, and be thankful the bartender called me and not the police. This is a far more comfortable place to spend the night than a police holding cell.”

Ryan stared at Gavin. He wasn’t going to duck his head and apologize. He hadn’t been intoxicated; he hadn’t been starting fights.

“Boy, your glare will be fierce when you’re a little older and know how to use it, but, well, right now...” Gavin shrugged. “I’ve out stared a lot of supposed masters, and you don’t impress me, boy.”

“Are you always this big of an asshole?” Ryan muttered.

Gavin laughed. “Pretty much. Right now you’re getting those kinds of comments for free. Enjoy them while you can. Finish your dinner.”

Ryan ate the last of his sandwich. There didn’t seem to be many other options, and he was hungry.

“Do you want another?”

“No.”

“You do, boy. I saw it in how quick you devoured that, but you don’t want to ask, and you don’t want to be under my scrutiny. A little hunger won’t kill you, and it might make the truth a little easier next time. Up to bed.”

Ryan wanted to protest that he truly wasn’t hungry, but Gavin was right, and Ryan wasn’t about to give him that small victory. Ryan swallowed his words and stood up. “Oh great master, lead me to my chamber.”

“Careful, boy. Those secrets are best left to morning.”

They trooped up the stairs and down a wide hall. Gavin opened a door into an ordinary guest bedroom. It could easily have been in Ryan’s parents’ house, except there was no bouquet of fake flowers on the dresser or scented soaps in the attached bathroom. 

“I’ll see you in the morning and answer the phone when your friend calls.” Gavin shut the door, and Ryan could hear the footsteps going down the hall.

What had he gotten himself into? Who was Gavin? He’d fed Ryan and put him to bed for the night. Ryan prowled around the room, opening drawers and flicking on the television. There was nothing incriminating in sight, a perfectly ordinary guest room. The television didn’t even have porn; the only working channel had some talking heads gravely discussing the upcoming college basketball season.

*

“It’s time to get up.”

Ryan groaned and covered his eyes with his arm from the bright overhead light.

“Up. It’s 7:45. You have to make a call at 8:00. I know you college boys all sleep to noon on the weekends, but we have plans this morning.”

We do? Ryan sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. That was right; he was at that crazy person’s house, Gavin Randolph, the man from the bar.

“Up, boy. I slipped in earlier and laundered your clothes. They’re on the dresser. You’re going to have to borrow my boxers since you were wearing yours. They’ll be tight, but they’re the pair my aunt gave me. She mixed up my size, and they’re big for me, but you’ll have to live with the ridiculous reindeer, her idea of a joke. Ten minutes, boy. I’ll be downstairs. Shower, dress, and call.” Gavin left without looking back.

Ryan cursed under his breath, but stumbled out of bed. It wasn’t that he wanted to stay here. He might as well get out of bed, but Gavin’s attitude was like a nail between his eyes. ‘Shower, dress, call.’ Who did Gavin think he was? Jesus! Ryan stomped through his shower and dried himself roughly before pulling on those ridiculous boxers and the rest of his clothes. The odor of smoke was now gone from his sweatshirt; it smelled of laundry detergent and fabric softener.

Ryan clumped down the stairs and followed the aroma of bacon into the kitchen. Gavin was pulling the last piece from the skillet. He turned and nodded toward the chair as he heard Ryan.

“Don’t expect hot breakfast. There’s cereal and fruit for you on the table.”

“What?” Ryan swallowed the rest of the question. Why did it matter? He’d get a ride back to his car and never see this man again.

“Boys only eat hot food if they prepare it. I don’t cook for you,” Gavin said in a tone that suggested this was an ordinary statement. “Quit looking at me like I’m either a bank robber or an asylum patient on the lamb. I do know what I’m doing, boy.”

“I’ll skip breakfast,” Ryan said, looking at the dry cereal with disgust. “Can you just give me a ride back to my car?”

“Not until we talk. Sit down, boy. You should be thankful you’re not cooking breakfast.”

“My name’s Ryan, not boy,” Ryan said, annunciating each word slowly and carefully. “Thank you for your hospitality last night, but I’m ready to leave.”

“Ryan, I’m well aware of your name.” Gavin had turned off the stove and stared at Ryan with the full intensity of his gray eyes. “You were at Arnold’s last night. I can answer your questions, but it’s your choice. Forget that you’re a young dominant, clueless and dangerous to both yourself and others, or sit down and eat your cereal.”

“I don’t like cereal.” Ryan flinched at his words; he hadn’t meant to sound like a petulant child, but that was exactly how they’d come out.

“Boys eat cereal in this house.”

I’m not a boy.”

“Until you learn to manage yourself as a top, you’re a boy. Now sit down.” Gavin quirked the corner of his lip up into a small smile. “Toast is acceptable if you prefer that. Bread’s in the cupboard.”

Ryan reached for the cupboard. He wasn’t going to win this standoff, but Ryan recognized Gavin’s effort to give Ryan an out without a complete surrender. “Gavin,” Ryan started.

“Yes, I gave you a break, and I know you recognized it. You’re not trained, but you’re not stupid. You’re an interesting kid.”

Ryan fiddled with the toaster, not sure if he should respond to Gavin. Replying that Gavin was an interesting man seemed stupid, but he was interesting with his magnetic personality and collected calmness. 

“Toast it or eat it cold. You’re not getting a master’s degree in toaster mechanics.”

“I’m toasting it,” Ryan growled.

“Growling, boy.” Gavin laughed and ruffled Ryan’s hair. “It’s a good skill, but not with me.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Ryan asked, exasperated and pulled his half done toast from the toaster and tossed it on a plate. “Why did you bring me here?”

“The right question in one. Sit down and we’ll talk.”

“You have bacon and eggs, and I have toast.” Ryan fingered the toast, breaking off a piece, but not eating it. “I don’t like toast.”

“Do you prefer cereal?” Gavin asked in a level voice.

“Not really.”

“Well those are your breakfast choices, so get used to it, boy.”

“I’m not a boy.”

“So you’ve told me,” Gavin said with a gentle smile. “In my world, you’re a boy until you understand how to be a master. I can teach you to be a master, but you must be a boy first. You can’t run until you can crawl.”

“And this training involves eating dry toast?” Ryan asked with disdain.

“No, you could’ve had butter if you’d asked.”

“Jerk.”

“Careful, boy, those words are no longer free.” Gavin stood and opened a drawer. He pulled out a well oiled strap and set it on the table. “I punish for disrespect.”

“I want a ride back to my car.” Ryan stared at the strop. Would this man actually use that on him? Ryan was bigger. Gavin couldn’t force him.

“Frightening, but seductive. You want this, and I’m giving you that opportunity. Are you going to throw it all away without listening to me? I can’t make you listen. I’m sure you’re well aware that I can’t overpower you. I wouldn’t try. This is about willing submission, not force.”

“What do you want with me?”

“I want you to listen to me, and then I’ll send you back to school to think for a week. This is not a decision that should be made on a whim. I’m offering you a seductive gift, but the price is real. I do punish; I do expect obedience; I will own you: your mind, your thoughts, your body, even a piece of your soul, nothing will be yours alone.”

“What do I get out of this?”

“You will own a piece of me, and when I turn you loose you will be a good top, a dominant who is respected, sometimes feared, but most importantly loved by the man whom you will cherish as a submissive.”

“What do you want me to do?”

Gavin grinned. It wasn’t totally a nice smile, but hinted at something predatory, a tiger ready to pounce on a desperate antelope. “The question is more what do you want me to do to you. I take my pleasure when a boy kneels at my feet or wiggles a red ass over my knee.”

Ryan swallowed hard and studied Gavin’s face. It wasn’t leering or swaggering like those phonies from last night, but there was a controlled power that made Ryan drop his eyes and crumble the toast between his fingers.

“That’s right, boy. You will submit to me in all things before I turn you loose on the world as a dominant.”

“I’m not a submissive.” Ryan forced his eyes up; he forced himself to hold Gavin’s challenging and steady gaze.

“No you’re not, but to understand your dominance, you must know how to submit. You’re a good boy; I can see it in your eyes. You don’t want to harm your submissive; you don’t want to be a bully, and you don’t want to be a fake, but you want to have power over your lover, to protect and also to hurt, but never to harm. You must understand both the fear and the thrill. It’s more to you than just a little fun at a pretend leather club.”

“How do you know?”

“I was there once. A master took me aside and taught me. I bent my knee to him like you will bend your knee to me.”

“You are so sure. What if this is not for me?” Ryan forced himself to unfurl his hand and sit calmly in Gavin’s calculating gaze. “You don’t know me.”

“But I do because I was once you: young, dominant, and clueless.” Gavin leaned in, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “You want what society tells you is wrong. Do you repress that urge, or do you tame it and find men who wish to submit as much as you wish to dominate? There is beauty in a submissive kneeling at his dominant’s feet with adoration, knowing the man who towers over him will hurt him but also cherish him. You will take, but only what is freely given. It is a beautiful path, but you need a guide.”

“I’m not into mystic poetry,” Ryan said with an attempt at a sarcastic dismissal.

“But you’re interested in what I know, in what I can teach you,” Gavin said with a too knowing smile. “Let yourself take the risk. The brass ring is worth it, but I won’t tell you it’s not hard. You will hate me at times and curse my name on your ancestors’ graves. I am not an easy master.” Gavin paused and studied Ryan again. “Finish your toast, boy. I don’t think it’s better for being turned into a hundred crumbs.”

Ryan pushed his toast away. He wasn’t hungry, or more truthfully he didn’t want to eat to this man’s order. 

“Do you want to battle with me over something as simple as toast?” Gavin stood up and walked behind Ryan, dropping one hand on Ryan’s shoulder and ruffling Ryan’s hair with the other. “Next week I’d tattoo your ass with my strap for this sort of defiance, but this week I will explain. Some orders from me will be simple: eat your breakfast, tuck your shirt in, brush your hair; others will be hard. It is the practice with the easy orders that will prevent the hard from being insurmountable. I don’t think eating toast is hard?” Gavin’s voice rose into a question.

“No,” Ryan muttered. Eating toast wasn’t hard, but eating toast to order was very hard. It was dry, crumbly, and unappetizing.

“No, sir,” Gavin prompted, “and I know that will take practice, but I have ways to remind you.”

“Sounds fun,” Ryan said sarcastically.

“It can be, boy, but for you I doubt it will be fun at first. You’ll fight me, and then you’ll feel guilty for fighting me. Now either finish your toast or throw it out, and I’ll give you a ride back to your car. I have some reading material for you to study this week, and if you’re ready to sign, be back here next Friday evening at seven with clothes for the weekend. If not, it was nice knowing you, kid, and don’t go back to Arnold’s. Next time the bartender will call the police.” Gavin stepped away and placed a manila folder on the table. “Your reading. Now hurry up. I’ve spent enough time coaxing you to eat your breakfast.”

Ryan tossed his toast in the trash. He wasn’t going to give this infuriating man the satisfaction of seeing him eat.

“Let’s go. Take your folder.” Gavin put his hand on Ryan’s back and propelled him out of the kitchen and toward the car. Ryan held the folder on his knees and sat in stoic silence as they drove back to the bar.

In the daylight, the bar looked even worse. A gutter sagged from the back of the building, and the dumpster overflowed with squashed boxes and bulging black plastic sacks of trash.

“Ryan,” Gavin said softly, placing his hand on Ryan’s knee as he turned off the ignition. “Read the file and think about it. Don’t do the easy thing and toss it in the dumpster. You may decide this is not for you, but make sure you decide.”

“Thank you for the ride and the room last night,” Ryan said stiffly and climbed from the car. He had been going to toss the file, but Gavin’s warning made him tuck in under his arm. He could throw it away back in his dorm room.

Ryan jumped into his battered and rusted jeep and pulled out of the parking lot with a roar. He only made it a few kilometers before he found his eyes wandering to the folder more often than staying fixed on the road. He pulled into a donut shop, a small hole in the wall with an empty lot except for a pickup truck with ladders on the roof. Ryan’s stomach growled, and he felt in his pants for a few dollars and some coins. He should have enough for a few sugared gems and a large coffee. Part of a piece of toast just hadn’t been enough.

Donuts and coffee in hand, he flipped open the file and read through the papers. Gavin must be crazy. No, Ryan wasn’t signing this. He wasn’t promising to obey; he wasn’t giving rights to his body and to his mind to Gavin. He didn’t know Gavin. There was a list of references and some equally crazy contract describing Gavin’s duties toward Ryan. He wasn’t buying a new car or renting an apartment. You were supposed to love the guy you were contemplating moving in with or at least know him. Gavin was a stranger; he could be an ax murderer for all Ryan knew. Ax murdering didn’t seem likely; Gavin had been very insistent that Ryan tell a sober friend of his whereabouts, and somewhere Ryan remembered reading in this sheaf of documents that he was supposed to mail a sealed letter to a friend or an attorney stating the arrangements to move in with Gavin to be opened if Ryan dropped out of school or disappeared. Ryan hadn’t read that closely; the whole idea was too crazy.

Ryan swallowed the last of the doughnuts and wheeled his jeep out and back into the street. The best thing was to forget all of this. Ryan had a paper to write and tests to study for. He didn’t need this foolishness.

Throughout the week, Ryan kept going back to the papers. They were becoming worn and crumpled by his constant fingering. In moments of idle daydreaming, Ryan wanted to sign his name on the dotted line, and then he remembered how insane the idea was. He’d called several of the references and had chokingly embarrassing conversations that had left Ryan flushed and sweaty. A few hadn’t answered the phone, and Ryan with relief had hung up on the voice mail. One had suggested meeting in person, and Ryan had desperately invented a major test for which he needed to do massive preparation or risk failing the class. The man had known too; that was obvious from the reply.

“Boy, I’ll tell you this in the two minutes you’ve given me on the phone. Gavin is a good dominant. He’s not soft, and he sure as hell is not lenient. If you take up his offer, you won’t be telling lies like this, not if you ever want to get off your knees and be able to sit again. He’ll insist that you’re honest. It’s not safe otherwise, and if Gavin is one thing, he’s safe. He may not always be warm, but he’s safe.”

Ryan had to make up his mind; tomorrow was Friday, and he couldn’t go on with this indecision. He hadn’t been able to concentrate all week, and he’d even gone to a midweek party at a fraternity that he couldn’t stand to break the tension. He hadn’t rushed a frat for a reason, and it had been a blunt reminder. Ryan preferred his sexual partners sober enough to remember the encounter the next morning.

Ryan startled at the knock on the door. “Come in.” It was Carl with his usual massive book bag on his shoulder, weighing down his twig like frame. 

“Hey,” he started awkwardly. “I thought--never mind. You must be studying,” Carl gestured at the papers from Gavin.

“Not studying, daydreaming,” Ryan said and managed a smile as he gathered the papers and shoved then back into the file folder. “I thought you’d be holed up in the library. What brings you here?” Ryan shoved his hands in his pocket and tried to act casual.

Carl made an unintelligible noise and looked at his feet. “Never mind.”

“Carl, don’t go.” Ryan heaved himself up from the bed and blocked the door in one easy stride. “What’s up? I’m not prepared enough to help you study. I’ve been distracted this week. Sorry.”

“Has it been about last Friday night?”

“Sorry to call you,” Ryan said with a grimace. “I was with a new friend, and he insisted that I call and tell someone where I was.”

“You’re gay? I just hadn’t thought,” Carl said quickly. “The girls all flock around you. Sorry, I’m not prying.”

Ryan smiled for real this time. “It’s not a state secret. I prefer the fair sex to the fairer sex. You?”

“No.” Carl blushed. “Not that you aren’t attractive--”

“But I’m not your type,” Ryan finished with a grin. “That’s good. I’d feel bad if we’d been lab partners all this time and you’d had a secret crush on me.”

“No worries.” Carl swallowed hard. “I still worry you’re going to squash me; dating never entered my mind. One of your hands would fit around two of mine.”

“Do I scare you?” Ryan asked softly.

Carl looked at Ryan for several long hard minutes as if he were internally debating the best answer. “Sometimes,” he finally said. “When you leapt in front of the door...”

“Sorry,” Ryan murmured and stepped away from the door. “I didn’t intend to frighten you.”

“You usually don’t.” Carl shifted the backpack on his shoulder. “That’s why I came by. I thought--I thought we might grab a burger or something. Forget it; it was a stupid idea. Guys don’t talk, and I’m sure you have plenty of buddies to go drinking with.”

“And they’re so much fun when they throw up on your shoes. Come on. I’ll even buy.”

“No.” Carl shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t want to impose.”

“Carl, I set your notebook on fire this afternoon in lab because I was in la-la land. I think I can spring for a hamburger on my meal card.” 

Carl didn’t reply, but he headed out of the dorm room, downstairs, and out across the quad to the student union. The Hub, as it was known, was one of those modern monstrosities of glass and concrete that stuck out like a foreign invader amongst the brick and ivy of the Eastern college campus. It had all the amenities that students supposedly wanted, but a complete bowling alley and a rock climbing wall in the basement didn’t make it any less ugly. The basement also contained the Hubster, a dining hall annex made to look like a fifties diner complete with a jukebox and photos on the wall of hot rods and men in white t-shirts with a pack of smokes rolled in the sleeve.

Ryan ordered burgers, fries, and sodas for both of them. He didn’t eat this badly all the time, or at least he tried to eat something healthier, but the college food service made it a challenge. Hamburgers and fries were actually recognizable food items. He took the food back to the table and ate his way through half his meal before even looking at Carl. 

“I guess you didn’t eat much at dinner,” Carl said, taking a big drink of his soda.

“What was dinner?” Ryan said flippantly. He’d gone and lifted weight. It helped him concentrate, and he hadn’t been hungry.

“Mystery casserole,” Carl said. “This is better. Thanks for the meal.”

Ryan nodded and soaked the last of his fries in ketchup. He wanted to talk to Carl about the insane offer from Gavin, but how did he bring it up? Oh by the way I’m into kink, domination and submission to be exact, or I’m stupid enough to move in with a stranger, and he has permission to beat me. He let out a large belch and patted his stomach. “That was good.  Dinner was a great idea, Carl, and I’m sorry about today in lab. I’ve been out of it. I promise I’m not doing drugs or anything. Scout’s honor.” Ryan gave the scouting salute.

“I’m an eagle scout. I know how to plant trees and find my way using the North Star.” Carl laughed. “It’s none of my business.” Carl flushed. “But you’ve seemed--off,” he added after a minute, “and that phone call was just strange.”

Ryan pushed his plate aside and folded his hands on top of the table. “I’ll try to be less strange,” he said, picking his words carefully.

“No, that’s not what I mean.” Carl raked his hand through his hair. “I--You’ve always been nice to me.” He crumpled his paper napkin into a ball. “I’m not exactly a jock, and I kind of took the brunt of that in high school. You--”

“I didn’t shove you into a locker and steal your books,” Ryan supplied. “I’m not exactly the totally normal jock either. Cheerleaders in short skirts don’t do much for me.”

Carl grimaced. “I hadn’t really thought of it that way.”

Ryan laughed. “Yeah, but at least I was big enough to beat them to a pulp if it got too bad, and most people are pretty decent about it.” As long as you’re north of Texas and not in high school, Ryan added silently. And they didn’t know about his other side. Power exchanges or whatever polite society liked to call them weren’t totally hidden now, but they weren’t totally accepted either. He’d read the brief page in his class on gender, equality, and sexuality. Talk about saying nothing.

“As long as both parties are consensually engaged in the practice, and both (or more in polyamorous relationships) parties take care to protect the other from physical or mental harm, these relationships can be fulfilling for all,” Ryan recited silently. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Gavin, Gavin acted like he understood all this with his smug smile and controlling confidence.

“Yeah, being able to out think them in science bowl didn’t impress them too much.”

Ryan snapped his attention back to Carl. He’d been daydreaming. “You can console yourself with the fact that you’ll out earn those assholes by a factor of ten.”

Carl laughed, almost bitterly. “I don’t think they even know what a factor of ten means, but being pretty and self-confident gets you further than brains. Look at our politicians.”

“Some have one or two brain cells to rub together.”

“And they’re derided while the public flocks to the next pretty face with ridiculous promises.”

“Bitter,” Ryan said gently.

“Don’t mind me. I’m just going into another tedious weekend. And,” Carl flushed and stumbled over the words, “you’re the one who’s looked troubled. I’m fine.”

“Want another soda?” Ryan stood and picked up the two paper cups before Carl answered. Carl was right; he had deflected the conversation. For all of Carl’s awkwardness and pretense of no social skills, he was sharp and more aware than he let on. Ryan filled the cups at the self-service machine. This wasn’t helping; he couldn’t distract himself. He’d have to make a decision and stick to it. Ryan took a long swallow of soda and made his way back to the table, a false smile plastered to his face.

They sat sipping their sodas in strained silence. Carl chomped on the straw with his teeth and shook the ice in his glass. “You going back with mystery man this weekend?”

Ryan startled at the abruptness of the question. He hadn’t expected Carl to be so blunt. They knew each other over math and chemistry, but they didn’t talk much. They weren’t friends, were they? Maybe they were; Ryan was sitting here, clutching his soda, and talking to a self-proclaimed science nerd in round glasses with traces of acne still on his forehead. Carl was a decent person; Ryan shouldn’t be looking at him through those ridiculous stereotypes. It was Carl who had noticed that Ryan was off, not Ryan’s roommate with his beer in one hand and his chick in the other.

“I’m thinking about it,” Ryan finally answered. 

“Did you like him?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Carl’s mouth hung open in puzzlement. “How can you not know?”

“It’s not that simple.” Ryan poked his straw up and down in his drink. He couldn’t explain to Carl; he couldn’t even explain it to himself. He was drawn to Gavin; he was drawn to Gavin’s promises. But did he like the man? Did he know him well enough to like or dislike?

“I’m not the most experienced guy on the planet, but even I know if I’m hitting it off with a girl.” Carl wadded up his napkin into an even smaller ball. “My problem is getting up the nerve to ask in the first place. I’m not a hot item.”

“Carl, you’re a nice guy.”

“And nice guy’s lose,” Carl said scathingly. 

“You’ll lose if you don’t try.” Where had that come from? Ryan was going to not try; maybe he should take his own advice.

“Is that advice for me or for you?” 

“I always knew you were smart,” Ryan said with a laugh. “I think it’s for both of us.” Ryan sobered and added, “I need a big favor. I need to give you something about where I’m going to be this weekend.”

“Sure. Are you into some weird shit?”

“Let’s leave it at that,” Ryan said with forced jocularity. “Will you keep it for me?”

“Yeah, sure, but take care of yourself. I don’t want to find a new lab partner.”

Ryan shook his head and smiled with a cockiness that he really didn’t feel. “I’ll just bash his brains in and take off. I am bigger after all.

******

Ryan drove around the block one more time. Twice he’d almost turned his jeep back toward college and the safety of his dorm room. He had the paperwork in the folder and the requested clothes in his duffel along with his backpack full of books. He drove back down the street. It was a quiet street, the street lamps already glowing in the early darkness of late fall. The houses were big with stately trees and garages tucked out of sight in the back. Ryan couldn’t see them well in the darkness, but this was an expensive neighborhood; he didn’t have to smell the faint salt from the Long Island Sound or see the sleek European sedans to know most of these people held jobs that paid more in a month than ordinary folk made in a year. 

Ryan didn’t know what Gavin did. The house was expensive. That had been obvious. Ryan’s mom was a real estate agent, and he’d been at enough open houses to recognize good quality versus a pretense of good quality. Ryan didn’t know anything about Gavin when it came right down to it. He knew Gavin was a dom. He’d felt it, and the references had reaffirmed it. Ryan knew Gavin lived in an high class neighborhood. Ryan nosed his jeep into the driveway and sat, not turning off the motor or the lights. He still had five minutes. This was crazy; he needed to leave.

The outside lights switched on, bathing his jeep in their glow. Ryan saw a tall figure come out of the house and walk toward the truck. Gavin was in jeans and a fisherman’s sweater. He looked totally ordinary as he stood in the beam of the headlights, one hand in his pocket.

Ryan flicked off his lights and engine and climbed out of his jeep, tucking the file folder under one arm and grabbing his duffle and backpack with his other hand. Gavin said nothing; he turned and walked back to the house with Ryan following him. The kitchen was just as bright as last week with the potted flowers still on the windowsill. A pan bubbled on the stove, spreading the fragrance of onions and garlic through the room.

“Are we doing this?”

“Yeah,” Ryan said, trying to make his voice sound casual and hide the dryness in his throat. 

“Papers.” Gavin pulled the file out from under Ryan’s arm and sorted through the papers until only the two contracts were lying on the table. “Sign.” He handed Ryan a pen from a mug full of pens on the counter and took one himself. Ryan shuffled forward, still clutching his duffel and backpack in his left hand and signed his name. Gavin’s signature was bold, dark, and big. He straightened up from the table, and Ryan was suddenly aware that while Gavin was smaller than Ryan that he was no small man. “Strip.”

Ryan stared at Gavin. He knew his mouth was hanging open, but he couldn’t seem to shut it. He’d thought they’d talk, maybe have dinner. He could smell it on the stove. He didn’t know this man.

“Strip, boy.” The swat on Ryan’s hip was hard, and Ryan flinched more from surprise than pain. “Boy.”

“No. Don’t.” Ryan stepped back, finding himself crowded between Gavin and the massive stove. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and he curled his hand into a fist ready to fight.

“Easy,” Gavin’s voice was soothing. “I’m not going to toss you over the table and ravish you.” He shot Ryan a wry grin. “I don’t rape my submissives; I can get them to beg easy enough. I want you stripped, not because I’m going to instantly have sex with you, but because I want you to get used to your role as my submissive. Nakedness against a man who is fully clothed is a good way to take you into that headspace. You need to learn to follow my orders. Life will be much more pleasant when you’re obedient. Now strip.”

Ryan kicked off his shoes and with fumbling hands managed to get his jeans down over his feet and into a heap on the floor. He’d been naked in front of other men before. What was the big deal? He unbuttoned his shirt halfway before pulling it over his head and adding it to the pile on the floor. 

“Socks and boxers too.”

The socks were easy enough. Ryan bit down on his lip and slid down his boxers, his hands going automatically to the front to protect his modesty.

“Shoes and socks by the door. Fold the rest of your clothes on the chair.”

Ryan obeyed. He wasn’t sure why, but he obeyed. He felt like an ant scuttling around putting his shirt and jeans on the chair and his shoes by the door. 

“Put your hands on the table and lean over. Three with the strap for fighting me earlier. When I said strip, I meant immediately, not after a debate.”

The strap landed hard against his ass with a startlingly loud crack. Ryan wanted to reach back or to shout or to at least try to dodge the next blow. He made himself stay still, gripping the edge of the table and trying to control his breathing. The next two blows landed in an identical spot. It fucking hurt, and Ryan fought to remain passive, to not even let his breath hiss through his teeth.

“Good boy.” The kiss on Ryan’s shoulder was gentle and chaste. “When you trust me more maybe you’ll let me know how much that hurts. It was only three, but I put them one on top of another. I know that hurt. Get dressed. Leave your shoes and socks off.”

Ryan scrambled into his clothes. He knew he looked undignified, but he wanted to be covered. His ass stung as he drew his pants over the sore flesh, but he didn’t want to give Gavin the satisfaction of seeing him flinch.

“Honesty with your feelings is going to be tough. We’ll work on it. Untuck your shirt.” Gavin reached forward and unbuttoned the top three buttons of Ryan’s shirt. “Better,” he said, stepping back. “I like my boys looking a little more natural.” He reached forward and ruffled Ryan’s hair. 

Ryan couldn’t help himself; he ducked out of the way. He hated having his hair tousled and had been very glad when he’d grown too tall for relatives, only spotted at Christmas, to kiss his cheek or tousle his hair.

“No,” Gavin growled. “I have the right to touch you.”

“I don’t like that.”

“Your likes no longer matter. My hand stroking is a lot nicer than slamming your ass.” 

Ryan learned later that his likes mattered far more than Gavin ever admitted. It was through his likes and dislikes that Gavin expertly trained him. Gavin knew where to touch Ryan to make him about die with pleasure and what to do to make him squirm with anguish, and Ryan did learn to accept and even like Gavin ruffling his hair and kissing his cheek. It was a reward, and Gavin was an expert at making his subs long for a reward.

Gavin spun Ryan around and perfunctorily landed two hard swats across where he’d laid the strap earlier. He ruffled Ryan’s hair again and kissed his cheek. “Better.”

It wasn’t better, but Ryan braced himself and refused to move. He didn’t want to give Gavin an excuse to pepper his ass again.

“Not yet. I see it in the tension in the neck. You will learn to like it especially as the other choice is getting your ass beat. Clothes off again.”

Ryan wanted to plead and beg. He didn’t want to be naked in this all too bright of kitchen with the African violets in the window.

“Hurry, boy. It’s not a debate.”

Ryan jerked his shirt back over his head and tossed it into the chair. His pants followed yanked off with savage frustration.

“Temper, boy. Don’t forget your boxers.”

“I’m getting them,” Ryan snarled.

Gavin watched passively until the boxers landed on the chair before pointing back to the table. “Another three for rudeness.”

“Fuck you!”

“Two more. Now be a good boy and get in position before you’re too sore to sit at dinner. The chairs in here are hard.”

Ryan looked at the kitchen chairs. They were wooden backed with a woven seat of some sort of mock straw material. They were going to hurt. He bent over and clutched the table.

Gavin landed five with the strap: hard, fast, but thankfully lower than the first three. Ryan fought the urge to give Gavin the satisfaction of seeing him rub his ass. It hurt, damn it hurt.

“Dress, boy. Shirt tails out. Collar unbuttoned.”

Ryan jerked his clothes back on, not able to completely hide the hiss as he pulled his jeans over his flaming ass.

“Good boy.” Gavin squeezed the back of Ryan’s neck and kissed his cheek. “Let go, kid, or it’s going to be a long night.”

“It already is a long night.” Ryan jerked out from under the caressing hand.

“Bad choice. You know the drill.”

Ryan stared at Gavin. He wasn’t stripping off and getting his ass beat again. Being naked was bad enough. Being naked over the table was humiliating.

“You promised to try to obey. You’re not trying now, Ryan. To be a good dominant, you must be a man of your word.”

“I hate this,” Ryan mumbled ripping off his shirt. He hadn’t meant to let that escape. He wanted to be silent and stoic.

“I know you do. It’s written all over your body language. Now back over the table.”

The next three landed on the back of his thighs, and Ryan couldn’t stop the breath whistling through his teeth. He was going to be crimson before the night was over.

“Shirt and boxers only. Go put your jeans by your shoes.”

Ryan hurled his jeans toward his shoes and socks.

“Boy.” The strap landed hard across his boxer covered butt. The thin cotton provided almost no protection from the biting leather. 

“Stop. Please.” Had those pitiful sounds come from Ryan’s mouth? 

“Fold your jeans and put them by your shoes.”

Ryan did as he was told. He didn’t look up at Gavin. He’d caved so easily. A few smacks with the strap, and he was humbled at the other man’s feet.

“To obey can be harder than to fight. Think about that. It’s going to be a hard lesson for you.” Gavin tousled Ryan’s hair again and kissed his cheek. “Give yourself a break and help me finish dinner.”

“I can’t cook.”

“I can’t cook, sir,” Gavin repeated. “I figured that, and since I don’t want to be poisoned either from your incompetence in the kitchen or from your anger I’m helping. You’re a clever boy; you will learn to cook.

Ryan made a face, but wisely stayed silent. 

“Smart. Now can I trust you with a knife?”

Ryan said nothing and merely stared at Gavin.

“Ryan, the question was serious.” Gavin said, taking Ryan’s chin in his hand and studying Ryan’s face. “You’re seething right now, and you’re not bonded to me at all yet.  Can I trust you with sharp objects?”

“I’m not homicidal,” Ryan spat.

“Just angrier than a wet hornet, and the correct answer was yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir, I can be trusted with a knife.”

“Hardly from the thunderous look on your face.” Gavin pulled Ryan’s head down and kissed his forehead. “I’ve given you plenty of reasons to be angry tonight, and I know that, kiddo, but to love a submissive you must be able to control your temper. Now get the lettuce out and wash it. That requires no knives.”

Somehow Ryan managed to get through the dinner preparation without putting his fist through Gavin’s face. Gavin moved back and forth between the stove and the refrigerator, his hands almost never leaving Ryan: a squeeze on the shoulder, a ruffle of his hair, or a pat on the back.

“Today we’re having a casual dinner and eating in the kitchen. If I eat in the dining room, you serve and eat afterward in the kitchen. Tomorrow I’ll start to teach you to serve.”

“Worlds of fun.” The smack of the wooden spoon across Ryan’s thigh drew a surprised yip from him.

“Boy, the kitchen is not the place for a smart mouth. I have way too many weapons at my disposal.”

“I hate you. I can’t do this.” Ryan hadn’t meant to let those words slip through his lips. He should be able to cope with this bully. It was only a few swats; he shouldn’t be this close to tears.

Gavin’s arm looped around Ryan’s neck, and he pulled Ryan down and kissed the top of his head. “I know you hate me right now, and it’s going to get worse before it gets better. Try to trust me. I do have your best interest in mind, and I have done this before. This isn’t all about me getting my jollies blistering your sweet ass, but I won’t deny it has some allure.”

Ryan didn’t know if he should laugh, cry, or punch the guy. He stood clutching the counter, trying to draw even breaths. He wasn’t going to fall apart.

“Can we eat without any more drama?”

Ryan reacted; he didn’t think. He grabbed the salad bowl and hurled it across the kitchen. Lettuce floated down like poorly opened parachutes, and cherry tomatoes rolled in all directions. The salad bowl hit the wall with a clatter, ricocheting off the woodwork before settling on the floor.

“You don’t do this.” Gavin grabbed Ryan’s shirt collar and dragged him from the kitchen before he could find the strength to resist. Gavin sat down on the sofa and pulled a shocked Ryan over his knee, jerking Ryan’s boxers down as Gavin trapped the bigger man between his legs and pulled Ryan’s arm back. “I need you to submit. In this position, you can still fight me, and you might win, but we’ll both be hurt.”

Ryan gritted his teeth, but he didn’t try to lever himself off Gavin’s lap. Gavin had the position of superior strength, but Ryan was stronger. He could get up if he really tried.

“Good.” Gavin’s hand rubbed over Ryan’s already sore butt. “I am going to spank you until you’re very sorry for throwing that bowl. You do not try to injure others or behave dangerously. If you had hit me with that bowl you could have given me a concussion.”

Ryan knew. He couldn’t remember ever throwing something at someone because he was angry. He didn’t get that kind of angry.

“I think you shocked yourself.” Gavin’s hand skimmed over Ryan’s hair, a surprisingly comforting gesture in this position. “I don’t think you usually have much trouble controlling your temper. My impression is you’re usually genial and generically nice. I’m not nice, whatever that means, but I don’t throw dangerous objects at people’s heads, and you don’t either. I don’t care how hard I’m pushing you and how big an asshole I am, you do not hurl cutlery, pots and pans, or whatever else you can get your hands on at me.”

“Yes, sir,” Ryan mumbled. He knew his face had to be as red as the stripes Gavin had put on his ass earlier.

“Don’t beat yourself up over this. It happens, and I’m going to punish you enough for both of us. This is going to hurt. I’m going to spank you longer and harder than you’ve ever imagined, and you’re going to be very sorry before I let you up. Scream, cry, curse at me. There are no points for stoicism, and letting it out will make you feel better. You’re angry at me, and this is your chance to let me know all about it in stereo.”

Gavin’s hand landed hard across an earlier stripe. Ryan bucked and bit his lip. This was only a hand spanking; he could take this. How bad could it be?

Bad. The spanks were never ending. Ryan forgot that his ass had ever felt like anything but flames. He knew he was yipping despite his effort to keep his teeth clenched in silence. All he could feel was his ass; every spank sent ripples of fresh pain through his body. “Ah!” He jerked as a spanked landed on his thigh.

“Hang on. We’re not done yet.”

Ryan grabbed the sofa cushion and buried his head. He didn’t know when he started crying, but he could feel the wetness on his cheeks and taste the saltiness in his throat.

“Come here.” Ryan was pulled up and arranged on the sofa, Gavin’s arms around him and his body canted so he was draped partially over Gavin. “Shh. I know it’s not in your nature to take comfort, but I just hurt you. Let yourself catch your breath for a minute. Forgive yourself and let me help.”

Ryan lay against Gavin’s chest. He didn’t believe the mystic garbage that was flowing from Gavin’s mouth, but he was too tired and devastated to resist. He’d lain exposed, bare, and vulnerable over a man’s knees and let him pummel him until every thought was consumed by the scorching fire in his ass.

“What was the lesson?” Gavin asked after a few minutes.

Ryan didn’t look up; he didn’t want to see those mocking gray eyes. He didn’t want to let Gavin gloat over Ryan’s defeat. “Don’t throw things.”

“At people to hurt them,” Gavin added. “Look at me.” Gavin’s voice was insistent and Ryan forced his head up. “I know that hurt, and I know you don’t know me well enough to understand how a punishment spanking works with me. You’re forgiven, and the incident is behind us.” Gavin kissed Ryan’s forehead and brushed his thumb over the wet cheeks. “Try to be kinder to yourself the rest of the night. You are going to be very sore.” There was no anger or gloating in Gavin’s eyes just more compassion than Ryan could stand. He looked away.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, and you have a red ass to prove it.” Gavin caught Ryan’s chin and forced his head up until their eyes met. “I know how hard it is to lie there and take that even when you’re in the wrong.” Gavin paused and stroked Ryan’s cheek with his thumb. “Maybe even worse when you’re in the wrong because you can’t write it off as appeasing a lunatic.” Gavin kissed Ryan’s forehead again. “Now do you think we could manage dinner without any more dramatics? Your body needs a break.”

Ryan managed a nod. He wasn’t ready to talk. He was either going to cry or to shout if he had to talk. Gavin nodded, not forcing the issue, and pushed, prodded and guided Ryan to his feet. Ryan stood by the sofa, his shirt tails brushing his sore ass. His boxers had been lost somewhere in the epic spanking.

“Come on.” Gavin held out his hand and tugged Ryan back into the kitchen. 

“My boxers.”

Gavin shook his head. “You forfeited your right to wear them. I want to enjoy my handiwork. My hand hurts enough; I ought to at least get some pleasure from it.”

“My butt...” Ryan bit his lip and glared. He wasn’t going to give Gavin the satisfaction of hearing him whine or cry.

“You hurt like hell. I know that. You actually don’t want any clothes over that right now.”

Ryan wasn’t mollified by Gavin, but he knew his underwear was a lost cause. He couldn’t cope with another spanking, and Gavin was way too free with his hand.

“Clean up your mess.” 

The kitchen was a disaster. Lettuce and tomatoes scattered in all directions. At least the bowl had been wooden and hadn’t broken. Ashamed at his temper but also embarrassed by the shirt riding up and exposing the full redness of his ass, Ryan tried to clean up and keep as much dignity as possible. Every bend and reach hurt, and he had to stifle several involuntary whimpers and cries.

Gavin had been doing something at the stove, and he carried two bowls to the table. He clicked his fingers and pointed to the side of the chair. “Boys who are too sore to sit in this household eat kneeling.”

Ryan glared; he knew he was glaring. He wasn’t going to kneel by the chair, hoping for scraps like some pet dog.

“Don’t fight this. Submissives kneel by their dominant. It’s not all about punishment; it’s also about support and affection. When you’re on the ground by me, everything is in my hands, and if you remain kneeling and quiet, you cannot make an error. You don’t want to make more mistakes today. Go on.” Gavin said when Ryan remained stubbornly standing. “I spent plenty of meals on my knees. It can be very soothing, and I was worse than you.”

Ryan slowly sank to his knees. He knew his face had to be redder than his damn ass. 

“Thank you.” It didn’t sound perfunctory or sarcastic; it sounded genuine and almost sympathetic. “Spread your legs a little. Hands behind your back. Keep your eyes down. You’re supposed to be in submission, so no talking unless it’s a direct question. Are you allergic to any foods?”

“No.” Ryan swallowed. “No, sir.”

“I don’t know your food preferences yet, so I hope I have nothing too terrible. We are stuck with frozen peas since the salad had an unfortunate accident with the floor. This can be either as pleasant or as awful as you want to make it, but you are eating something tonight. My boys don’t go to bed hungry.”

But Ryan wasn’t hungry. All he wanted to do was get out of sight of those watchful gray eyes. Maybe Gavin would let Ryan sleep again in that guest room, and Ryan could pretend he was an ordinary houseguest, not a boy on the floor with Gavin holding a forkful of spaghetti in front of his face.

“My cooking’s not that bad.”

Ryan tried to open his mouth. He didn’t want Gavin all over him again. He didn’t have the strength for the fight. He felt a tear trickle down his cheek. “I can’t do this.” Ryan stood up and wiped his face with his sleeve. “I’m sorry; I can’t do this,” he repeated.

“Yes, you can.” Gavin’s voice was calm and quiet. “You’re strong enough to give into me. It’s just to me. You’re not a submissive, but you’re my submissive for the duration, until I cut you loose as a dominant. Submitting is not about weakness; it’s about courage and strength. Come on, kid, back down you go.”

“Don’t make me.” Ryan heard the childish plea in his voice.

“I won’t make you, but you’ll make yourself. You’re not a quitter, and you’ve wanted this a long time. How long had you been thinking about going to Arnold’s?”

“Months,” Ryan mumbled. And years about the idea. He wasn’t going to admit to those perverted thoughts.

“Are you going to give that up because you’re embarrassed that I spanked your ass and put you on the floor? Are you?” Gavin asked relentlessly.

Ryan shook his head and sank to his knees. He couldn’t look up. He blinked rapidly, trying to hide the shameful tears. He didn’t cry. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried.

Suddenly Gavin was down on the floor, sitting across from Ryan, his legs crossed with the plate resting on his lap. “I hope my kitchen floor is clean enough for this.” He twisted the spaghetti on a fork and held it out to Ryan.

Ryan opened his mouth, chewed and swallowed. It was humiliating and comforting at the same time. Gavin was babbling something about different sauces and noodle types, but Ryan didn’t care. All he had to do was eat.

“Good boy.” Gavin ruffled Ryan’s hair, bringing Ryan’s attention back to Gavin. “For you, I know that was humiliating, and I hope at least a little comforting. Feeding your submissive emphasizes the dominant’s position and control, but it should be about comfort and caring, not humiliation.” Gavin stood and shook his long legs out. “I’ll have you do the dishes tomorrow; I think you’ve had enough for tonight.”

The clock showed only a little after nine, but Ryan felt exhausted and he didn’t protest as Gavin led him up the stairs and back to the guest room of the previous week. 

“Shower.” Gavin tossed Ryan a t-shirt from his bag. “You can wear this to bed.”

Ryan leaned against the shower wall, pleased to be out from under Gavin’s eye. He hurt. Shit! He hurt, and what was Gavin going to do to him now? The water was starting to cool. He was going to have to get out. He grabbed the towel and patted himself dry before tying it around his waist. His toothbrush was in the holder. When had Gavin found time to bring it up? Had he come in when Ryan was in the shower? Teeth brushed he had no more excuses not to open the door into the bedroom.

Gavin was leaning against the wall, relaxed and almost smiling. “Lose the towel and lie down on the bed. I’m not going to spank you again, not unless you disobey me.”

Ryan dropped the towel and carefully lay down on his stomach. The t-shirt was too short to hide his red ass, and he felt embarrassed and humiliated to have it in Gavin’s full view, even though he was the man responsible for the color.

“Good boy. That took trust. Face down on a bed with a near stranger and a red ass. I’m not going to do anything bad. I’m going to put some cream on your ass so you might sleep tonight.”

Gavin’s hands were cool and slick as he touched the inflamed skin. Slowly and methodically he applied the soothing cream. Ryan found himself relaxing despite his vulnerable position.

“Good boy,” Gavin soothed. “The aftercare is the dominant’s duty. You ever forget this with one of your own subs and I’ll kick your ass even if I have to come back from the dead. You cherish what’s given to you. You haven’t given me much, but it will come.” Gavin pressed a kiss on Ryan’s shoulder. “Sleep, boy. Morning will come early.”