Austin's Diary - Being Good

Being Good

I woke early, nothing like getting sent to bed at dinner to screw up my schedule. Both Sheldon and Milton were still sleeping, Sheldon draped over Milton’s larger body like some sort of redheaded tumor. Milton always started between us, but by morning he and Sheldon were always entwined as if I didn’t exist. I know a shitty thing to think. If I “accidentally” rolled into Milton, he’d wrapped one of his great hairy arms around me, and I’d be stuck, trapped by his weight and his growled orders.

I slipped out of bed, not waking my sleeping beauties, and silently grabbed shorts and a T-shirt. A morning run would clear my head and get me out of the house. I usually went with Tilden, but he’d want to talk, and I didn’t want to talk. I’d been a few times with Ryan; that wasn’t running, but torture. Ryan set a blistering pace and smiled cruelly as he expected me to keep up. The man was beyond serious about exercise. Yes, he and Blade were hot as hell, but I preferred to be able to do more than collapse in an exhausted puddle for the rest of the day, unable to even twitch without every muscle screaming that it had been abused. Sadist! Faster boy with that huge grin when my lungs were already exploding.

The town was quiet with the sun just rising off to the East. This college town was on a college schedule, no activity until midmorning on weekends. I jogged through town, passed the still shuttered shops and out into the country. My feet beat a quiet tattoo on the pavement. I loped up a gradual rise and watched the grazing horses give me a long look before returning to the green shoots beneath their feet. My mind wandered as my feet continued to cover the pavement. The road was quiet: woods, and rock walls, and small farms. I leaned against a bridge railing and watched the creek below, a trickle of water winding among the rocks. The sun was hotter now. I hadn’t put on my watch, but it must be late now. I headed back, trying to retrace my steps. I hadn’t been paying attention. Great, I didn’t like running with Ryan, but at least he didn’t get lost. I wasn’t totally lost, just not sure of the quickest path and too damn far from home.

I stumbled into the kitchen, wet with sweat, half hobbling, and longing for a glass of water and a cool shower.

“Milton was going to send out a search party.” Luke gave me one of his quiet smiles. Luke was always quiet. I still felt he was a near stranger, and I’d lived here for three years.

“Mad?” I asked, gulping down more water.

“Concerned.” Luke studied me for a moment, taking in my dusty legs, my grimy shirt, and my sweaty face. “Does he scare you?”

Fuck yeah! Sometimes. The giant with the whip, but I liked the giant with the whip. I loved the giant with the whip in the moments that I wasn’t hating him. I shook my head.

“He can be intimidating,” Luke said gently. “Milton loves you in his Milton way, but he’s intense.”

“I wasn’t running away.”

The look Luke gave me suggested that he thought my words weren’t remotely connected to the truth. “You training for a marathon?”

“I got lost.”

I knew what Luke was thinking, How did you get lost on foot in a town with two stop lights? It wasn’t possible. “Go take a shower. You stink.”

“Sweet of you to tell me.”

“Careful. Milton won’t be generous.” Luke’s voice was gentle, but for some reason sent a shiver through my spine. I was hot and tired and sore, and I was going to get my ass thrashed. I bit my lip and stormed out of the kitchen. I wasn’t about to show that perfect boy how near the edge I was. 

At least the shower felt good, or it did until I heard the door open and I could see Milton leaning against the wall. The man was menacing standing in the bathroom; he was menacing breathing. The water started to turn icy, no more hiding in the shower.

“Do we need to talk about anything?”

I was dripping with a towel half slung around me, and Milton wanted to have a chat. “No,” I spat.

“Boy, you vanished for four hours this morning.”

“It’s not like I’m going to get kidnapped in Podunk.”

“Stay around the house for the rest of the day.” Before I could protest Milton continued, “I can make it so you don’t leave without an escort. Am I understood?”

Fuck it! I wasn’t his prisoner. My eyes obviously showed the challenge that was in my mind because Milton stepped closer and grabbed my chin.

“Austin, you gave me that right, unfair as it may seem. I expect your obedience.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose.” I hurled the towel at him—I know not an effective weapon—and tried to wiggle from his grasp.

“Stop it.”

How Milton backed me into the wall and trapped my hands over my head without me moving my legs will always be a state secret. I don’t remember stepping backwards, but I was against the wall, his fully clothed body pressed against mine, and I was mad, frustrated, and more than a little excited. Short circuit—getting bullied in the bathroom was making me hard.

“You want to submit. Let yourself give in.” Milton’s voice was a caress in my ear. “I’m not Bruce. I won’t make you a walking zombie. You’re my submissive, my cub, but you are also Austin, a young man with a right to his own feelings and his own personality. I cherish that.” He kissed my forehead. I would have preferred the kiss elsewhere, but that was all that was on offer. “Inside the rest of the day.”

I nodded. I knew “yes, sir” was the expected answer, and the answer I should have given him, but Milton was generous enough to accept the nod.

Dressed in jeans and the scruffiest shirt I could find that wouldn’t instantly bring a ringing order to change, I stalked into the kitchen for my long delayed breakfast. I didn’t actually stalk; I more slithered, not wanting another confusing encounter with Milton. I piled a plate with everything that looked good and headed for my old room. If I shut the door, Milton would leave me alone. It was my private space. We’d never discussed it, but he seemed to know.

I never made it there. Tilden’s and his partners’ bedroom door was open. I’m not a voyeur, but the door was open; it was impossible not to see. Mike was kneeling on the floor, his head resting against a khaki clothed thigh. Tilden’s long fingers were gliding though Mike’s hair. I know Mike’s eyes met mine, but it was like he wasn’t seeing, They were glazed with a faraway look, his facial features relaxed.

“Hey.” Luke caught my wrist and pulled me back into the kitchen. “Mike needs that occasionally. Not my thing, but he likes it.”

“He looked…” How could I describe it? It had been so beautiful. I was envious and horrified, and I didn’t know what.

“Zoned out,” Luke said with a laugh. “Give him an hour or two, and he’ll be back to his normal self. He wasn’t in trouble.”

“I didn’t know…” God, I couldn’t manage anything intelligible. Submissives knelt; I knew that. Why was I like a fish yanked up from the lake bottom about this, my lips opening and closing with no sound coming out?

“Austin, we all do this differently.” Luke ran his fingers through his blond curls. “I’m not the best one for this. I hardly do this at all. I like the fantasy well enough, but the real stuff…” Luke laughed nervously. “I’m not a Blade. I actually prefer to sit down without wincing from fresh welts. Don’t hire me to explain this stuff.” Luke strummed his fingers against the table. “What I’m trying to say is the kneeling business works for Mike. It makes him very happy. Tilden does it for Mike. You should ask Milton. He can tell you. Ugh! I’ll shut up now.”

“Luke, it’s OK.” Luke was squirming in his chair, looking more embarrassed than I usually did.

“Great experienced submissive here. I can’t even talk about it. Don’t tell the big boys, or I’ll have Milton interrogating me every night at dinner.”

“Do you? Do you like it?”

“Kneeling? Hell no.” Luke smiled, reached across, and snatched a grape from my plate. “I’m a failure at this submissive stuff. Don’t tell anyone,” he whispered conspiratorially, “but I misread the map and ended up here.”

“You’re Tilden’s sub?”

Luke shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. I was barely older than you when we got together.” He reached over and tousled my hair. “To be young again and just let it all happen. I love Tilden; I love Mike even when he’s grouchy, but for me…” Luke got up and went to the fridge. “Why am I trying to talk about this? I’m a guy. We do strong and silent.”

“Uh, you live here,” I hazarded. “Milton doesn’t do silent.”

“Smart boy.” Luke popped open a can of soda and took a long drink. “I’m not submissive the way you are or Sheldon or Blade or even Mike. A little fantasy is fine, but that’s as far as it goes. And before you ask, Milton and Tilden know. Milton knew before I did. He cornered me with Tilden, and he made be talk about it in all its glorious details. A vanilla Green Mountain Boy. Funny really.” Luke took another swallow of soda. 

“Tilden doesn’t?”

“Kid, you need to learn to say the words. He doesn’t spank me. He did in the beginning plenty, but I was very young.” Luke flushed and ducked his head. “I wanted that security. I wanted to be parented a little. Weird—I know. Yeah, I like the fantasy, but truly getting hit is not my thing. I don’t get off on the control or the pain. Dressing up and pretending that’s different. Tilden doesn’t really hit me with the cane; it’s a prop.” Luke took another swallow of soda. “You know Milton would take this soda can, so I couldn’t hide behind it. Bastard! God, enough of this embarrassment!” Luke raked his fingers through his hair again. “What I’m trying to say is figure out what you like. Milton’s a very good dominant. He’s safe to try stuff with. I’m the wimp vanilla boy, and he and Tilden figured it out. He’ll help you find what you need. You might not always like his help, but that goes with the territory. OK?” Luke patted my shoulder. “I’m getting out of here before I say anything else mortally embarrassing. Be good.”

Be good—that was everyone’s advice. Sometimes I think being good is overrated. I shoveled down the rest of my breakfast or maybe it was lunch and walked out the door. The hell with being good.