Austin's Diary - Dinner With Stripes

Dinner With Stripes

Getting your ass beat doesn’t get you out of Sunday dinners in Lord Milton’s rule of correct submissive behavior. I knew this, but it still doesn’t mean that I didn’t try. I’d spent most of the day in the bedroom. Sheldon had been sweet and grimaced over the stripes on my tortured ass, but he’d also been crushingly blunt telling me that they were deserved and his sympathy only went so far. 

“Austin, sweetheart, your role is to submit, and you threw his rules back into his face. You’ve been around Milton enough to know that is a one way ticket to serious trouble, and if you’re not looking for it, don’t do it.”

“You’re not perfect.”

“Nope.” Sheldon gave me a wide grin and ruffled my hair. “You mean I spend an inordinate time with a certain part of my anatomy some shade between pink and crimson.” Sheldon sat down on the bed and rubbed my shoulders. “Listen, Austin, there’s a world of difference between the games I play with Milton and what you did last night. I’m inside the rules; you told Milton to fuck himself with the rules and the lifestyle.”

“Milton doesn’t let you swear.”

“He’s not here. Austin,” Sheldon said sharply, “if you don’t get your attitude together, you’re going to go another round with Milton, and you don’t want that. If you really don’t understand, talk to Milton like the grownup you want to be, but don’t sulk and pout. You’re a better man than that.”

That stung. My ass was on fire, and Sheldon was all in Milton’s court. “Fine, I’m showering.”

“Careful,” Sheldon said gently. “I’ve been there. Don’t make it worse.”

I stomped off to the shower; stomping with a caned ass is damn stupid, but I did it anyway. Sheldon was gone by the time I got out of the shower, but he’d laid all my clothes out in perfect valet style right down to my socks and polished shoes. Perfect little submissive! 

I took as long as I dared to get dressed and only slipped downstairs right before dinner. The dining room chair might as well have been covered in tacks. Sitting on it was torture and I’m sure against the Geneva convention. I have been studying my history. Blade and Ryan had come down. They tried to visit at least every other week, and this was obviously one of their weeks. More people to see my misery.

It took about two-seconds for Milton to decide I was out of sorts, and his hand found my knee under the table. I guess the touch was gentle, but I jerked my leg away from his hand. His eyebrow rose in that slow climb that said careful. I buttered my roll, a good excuse not to look at him. Ryan had been seated on my other side; this wasn’t his usual place. Milton was intentionally surrounding me with the big boys. Ryan’s eyes had been on me the whole time; he’d seen me ease my way down into the chair. He knew I had a punished ass.

I was quiet during dinner. Everyone was talking over my head anyway--teacher stuff. With Ryan and Blade taking that job at the boarding school even Blade sounded all intellectual as he debated some history topic with Milton. Blade seemed to be winning the argument, Milton was only half paying attention. As closely as he was looking at me, I don’t see how he could have heard any of Blade’s nattering.

“Clear the table, Austin.”

Now I was the servant. I hadn’t wanted to eat dinner, and now Milton tossed the clean up in my lap. I probably would have said something colossally stupid if Ryan hadn’t stood up and grabbed my wrist.

“I’ll help.” Ryan dragged me behind him to the kitchen. “Dry. I’ll wash.”

The dishes were piled in the sink. Mace and Trent must have used every damn pan in the kitchen and a few from their coffee shop. I snatched the towel from the counter and glared at Ryan. He was way too cheerful; mountains of dishes didn’t make me cheerful.

“Would you rather debate the Civil War with our two historians?” Ryan asked with a smile. “And it looked like sitting was killing you.”

“Fuck! Does everybody have to know?”

“Kid.” Ryan looped an arm around my neck and pulled me close. “That sort of language I’m sure does nothing to make Milton sweet and gentle. So what’s with you?”

“I have stripes across my ass. That’s what’s with me,” I snarled and tried to pull from Ryan’s grasp. 

“Bad?” he asked, acting as if he didn’t notice my flailing and thrashing to break loose. 

I nodded and blinked back the sudden rush of tears. Ryan can be all top sometimes, and this was one of those times. He trapped me against the counter, stripped my pants and boxers, and took a look. 

“Austin, what on earth did you do?” Ryan dressed me as quickly as he’d jerked my covering down and now had plastered me to his chest. Comfort from the guy who had just so comprehensively proven that I was powerless. “I bullied you. I know. What happened?”

“Milton,” I mumbled into Ryan’s chest.

“I figured Sheldon wasn’t putting stripes on you.” Ryan kissed the top of my head. “I know Milton; he didn’t but those sort of stripes on you on a whim.”

“I went drinking.”

“What else?”

“Nothing. I called him to pick me up. I wasn’t falling down drunk. I didn’t drive.”

“And you got the stuffing knocked out of you,” Ryan finished. “What did Milton say?”

“I knew I’d be in trouble, but…”

“What did Milton say?” Ryan repeated. He pushed me to arm’s length and grasped my chin in his huge hand. I knew Ryan was a big guy, but I felt dwarfed as his hand cupped my chin.

“I intentionally disobeyed.” I looked up at Ryan’s blue eyes. They were calm, serious, and impossibly gentle. “I was a bad submissive. I threw my submissiveness back at his face.”

“I’m sure he didn’t tell you that you were a bad submissive, did he?”

“He was so angry. I know he told me not to drink. I didn’t mean it…”

“You were just being a teenager, and he hammered you.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled.

Ryan pulled me close, his voice warm in my ear. “And he punished you as a submissive. It wasn’t fun; it was out of your comfort zone, and you still feel shaky.” Ryan kissed the top of my head as I melted into him. “You’re not an ordinary teenager; you realize that now in six brilliantly colored stripes on your ass. You’re Milton’s submissive. Every interaction he has with you he gives something of himself; he deserves your respect and obedience, and if you don’t deliver, he has every right to punish. It’s your role to accept that punishment and do better; being sullen is still defiance.”

“I’m not trying to be awful.”

“You’re doing a damn good job of it,” Ryan said his voice full of humor. “I stopped a disaster when Milton ask you to do the dishes. What should have been the answer?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I saw the way you were sitting at dinner. You don’t want Milton touching that part of your anatomy for a few days. Think about it.”

“Why should I have to do the dishes?” I jerked out of Ryan’s arms. “There are plenty of other bodies with working arms.”

“Austin,” Ryan growled. “Do you need more force today? I’m trying to help you, boy, and you just told me where to go.”

“It’s not fair!” I tossed the crumpled dish towel onto the counter. “I’m going out.”

“Over my dead body.” 

Ryan was so big that he easily fenced me in against the counter. I couldn’t make it to the stairs or the back door, and I wasn’t going back into the dining room.

“Do I hand you over to Milton for more punishment?”

“No!” I wiped a treacherous tear from my cheek. Fuck! I could hear my breath rattling in my chest. I clutched onto the counter, my knuckles white from the strain.

“Scared?” Ryan asked. “Milton scared you today; this suddenly didn’t seem fun.”

“He hurt me. The cane...It was…” I was blubbering. I sounded about two, and I couldn’t stop myself.

“The other punishments have been exciting, maybe mixed up with something erotic in your brain. The cane was just painful.” Ryan untangled my fingers from the counter and threaded them between his own. “Milton’s a master. He wanted to make a serious impression on you. He intentionally drove you toward pain and fear. He won’t always do that. Sheldon can probably name the times on one hand when Milton has taken him there. You hated it; Milton wanted you to hate it. You do not intentionally defy your dominant unless you want hell raining down on your head, and you’re not that sort of submissive. Milton wouldn’t have that sort of submissive. He doesn’t enjoy being cruel and frightening.” Ryan gave me a wry smile. “I won’t say he’s not very good at it. He lit into me one day. I won’t cross him, and more importantly Sheldon doesn’t. Sheldon can tweak Milton’s tail with impunity, but there are places he doesn’t go. Milton wanted you to learn this in one. He did the same with me. I like Milton; I’d trust him with my life and with Blade’s life, but I defer to him, and you must. You made that choice. He tried to talk you out of it several times. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I managed to say between sniffles. “I’m going to mess up.”

“And Milton will pull you back into line, and you accept what he hands out as your due. This is the life you chose, and I don’t think you want to give it up even when it’s hard and scary. I’m married to Milton’s partner’s brother. Milton is the head of the Green Mountain Boys. If Milton comes after me, I swallow hard and take what I have coming. He has my loyalty and obedience; he’s earned that. He’s given you something most teenagers can’t even imagine. You must give him back your loyalty and obedience even when it’s something you really don’t want to do, even when it seems totally unfair, or when he feels like an oversized bully. He’s your dominant, and, kid, I watched him fret over you during dinner. He cares. He cares that he had to hurt you this morning. He cares that you’re having trouble figuring this out.” Ryan kissed my forehead. “End of lecture. Now we’re doing these dishes before we’re both in trouble.” He put the towel back in my hand and patted my shoulder. “Dry, little cub.”