The following story is a work of complete fiction, dreamed up in my own twisted little mind. I invented Lance and Sebastian, and any resemblance they might have to real people is purely coincidental. If you're uncomfortable with themes of consensual, loving bondage, domination/submission, or humiliation and training between two young men, please stop reading here. Everyone else, enjoy!
Thanks to TL for encouragement and ideas.
Comments are welcomed, adored, and lovingly spanked and petted at bondedboy13@yahoo.com.
Part Eleven: Visit
The hardest part of all of this, besides having to adapt to a whole new lifestyle, is learning to read Sebastian even when he doesn't want me to. When he's acting up, for example, I've got to be able to tell if it's because he's genuinely scared, or pushing me to punish him, or if he's just being pissy and difficult. When he's docile and sweet, I want to know if it's because he's tired, or if he wants something from me, or if he's honestly being a good boy. I've got to tailor my reactions to his motives, not just his actions, or I won't be doing my job. It's tricky, and it scares me every day that I might misread him on something really big and hurt him. Not in the good way.
When his narrowed eyes and tense shoulders let me know he was cranky on Friday morning, I paused and considered for a moment as he wormed out of his bed and struggled to stand, his hands bound to his collar with short straps. He'd started to get horny again the evening before, and though he'd been incredibly good about not touching himself, I hadn't trusted his sleeping hands, and had cuffed them out of temptation's way. It couldn't have been a comfortable way to sleep, and he looked stiff, but this went deeper than that. He was worried about this afternoon, I was pretty sure, and I wasn't going to punish him for that. I was kind of worried myself, to tell the truth.
"Morning, sweetie." I kept my voice gentle, no trace of censure, though he was still scowling and trying to stretch, his cock bobbing half-hard against his thighs as he finally stood straight. "Let's get you out of that." He grunted, and came to my side, bending to have his hands released. When they were free, he shook out his wrists, one hand straying towards his groin before jerking back. He scowled harder, but I could see the nerves underneath, the uncertainty about being us with other people around. I reached out and stroked his hip gently.
"Go get the hairbrush and the small ball gag, please, Sebastian." He jerked and looked at me, wide-eyed and awake suddenly. "You haven't been bad, baby. This is just to help us calm down for later, okay? Now, Seb."
"Yes sir." His slightly hoarse morning voice always makes me smile, and he took himself off to get the gear. My own cock twitched and stirred as I watched his naked backside, the end of the large plug visible between his cheeks, and he couldn't get back soon enough to suit me. He was still sulky when he returned, holding the hairbrush and gag, his cock at full attention.
"I don't need to calm down for later," he protested, walking to me reluctantly. "I'm calm, I'm fine! I need to come, but I'm fine."
"If you're fine, then what's that nasty expression on your face?" It was hard to hold in my grin when his face went through a comical set of contortions, as he tried to look calm and content. I reached for his hips and pulled him between my knees, and he came without protest, letting me draw him close to me with a sigh. "You know I love you, and if something's bothering you you need to tell me. Talk to me."
"I just..." he sighed again, and relaxed a little under my hands. "I want to be good when the guys are here, I do. I want them to see how...how different things are now. But I'm afraid I won't be able to, if you're not there, if we're not alone. I don't think I can do it yet. And I don't want them to know that you're...we're...what we are. But how can we hide it?" His voice was small and uncertain, his eyes on the ground.
I ran my hands down his thighs, then back up, stroking the smooth-shaven pale skin, watching him shiver under my touch, and then pinched him lightly, bringing his eyes up to my face. "This is like your first little test. And I bet you're going to ace parts of it, and probably not do too great on other parts. But that's okay."
He snorted a little. "Yeah, but you're not going to be the one getting his bottom beat for the parts he screws up."
"I'm not being tested here," I reminded him, warningly. "Or if I am, it's on how well I've managed to teach you to behave, so far. Believe me, it's important to me that you do well. I want the support of the other guys as much as you do, even though I don't think they're ready to hear details about us. It's going to be clear to them that things are a little different, and that's okay. But what you need to worry about is minding your manners, and obeying your rules, and making me proud of you. I'll manage to let you know if you're starting to do something that'll get you punished later."
He groaned, and leaned against my body, his body still sleep-warm and a little sweaty. "I bet that'll happen a lot. What are we doing this morning, though?" I let him change the subject, knowing that talking about it more would just increase his nerves.
"I've got to go to the store this afternoon, pick up a few things for tonight. You need to do your chores, and your voice exercises, and call your mom."
"You're leaving me here by myself?" He stood up straight again, staring at me in disbelief. "Really?"
I raised my eyebrows at him, grinning a little. "You're a big boy, Sebastian. I think you can stay home by yourself for a couple of hours. But I want you to tell me honestly...do you need your belt?"
He chewed his lip, staring at me, his hands drifting protectively towards his crotch again. I slapped one when it got too close to his stiff cock, and he jumped. Finally, reluctantly, he nodded. I nodded back.
"Thank you for your honesty."
"Can I tell you something weird?" His voice was uncertain, and I nodded again. "I...I missed it. It was SO hard, not touching myself last night when we were watching the movie. I couldn't think about anything else, and my penis was just aching, and it was even worse than having the belt on, having to stop myself from touching." He fretted, frowning a little, confused by his own desire for something he'd started out hating so much.
"But you did it, and I was very proud." He smiled then, clearly pleased with my praise. "That's the point. Last week, could you have stopped yourself?" He shook his head definitely.
"No, I don't even think I would have tried. But...but I didn't want you to be disappointed in me, last night."
"See? You're getting more and more control every day, and for the right reasons. That's excellent, and I think it deserves a reward." His whole face lit up with eagerness.
"What kind of reward? Can I have my X-Box back?"
I laughed, hard, leaning my forehead against his belly until I could get my breath back again. "No, no," I finally got out. "No, I said a month and I meant a month. I was thinking more along the lines of a nice orgasm."
His eyes went wide, instantly. "A real one? With...like normal, with spurting and everything?"
"Yeah." I started pulling him down a little, wanting him on his knees, and he went easily. I reached for the gag. "You can come while I'm spanking you today, whenever you want. I'm going to paddle you hard, Seb; you won't be punished again today until after the guys leave, so this is going to be a reminder for you."
His eyes narrowed at me again, but the flush of the promised orgasm was still making him shine with excitement, and he opened his mouth obediently enough for the ball gag. It was small; Seb's livelihood is his voice, his mouth, and that restricts me in the kinds of toys and the sizes I can use on him. His jaw still worked uncomfortably around it, and I strapped it tight at the back of his head.
"How's it feel?" He tried to answer, made a muffled grunt, and glared at me when I couldn't help grinning at him. "Really, you don't say." He glared harder. "Oh, very scary, yes. Across my knees, up you get."
Trepidation flashed in his eyes for the first time, and he slowly got up and draped himself across my lap. I pressed a fist to the soft place above his balls until his legs spread to my satisfaction, and took a moment to play with the plug, sliding it out of him until his little hole stretched obscenely around the widest part, then shoving it back in against his prostate. He squeaked and groaned, all sounds quieter than I was used to, and squirmed frantically on my lap, his knees jerking inward as he fought to escape the torment of the plug. "Remember, you can come whenever you want," I reminded him, reaching for the wooden hairbrush. "If you do it too soon, I doubt the rest of your strokes will be very fun for you, so you might want to keep that in mind." He growled into the gag, and I smiled when I guessed he'd realized that I'd put the responsibility for self-control directly into his lap.
"You don't have to count this time," I added as an afterthought, and something suspiciously like a snort came from around my ankle. My first smack came without warning, then, and harder than I'd actually intended, though the result was delightful. Even through the gag, his surprised shriek was clear, and he straightened convulsively, legs kicking out behind him. I kept that same firmness for the first ten strokes, then ten lighter, alternating cheeks, watching them turn a deep rose color as the wooden brush brought the blood to the surface of pale skin. The next ten were just as hard as the first, and somewhere in the midst of them, his hips curled and humped against me frantically, the burning heat of his cock rigid on my thigh. Gushes of hot wetness spread down my leg immediately and he shuddered weakly, squealing through his nose as I brought the brush cracking down on his ass, getting both cheeks and his tender inner skin all at once. The final ten strokes were vicious, falling in a flurry as I panted and barely kept myself from coming. He was jerking with every blow, now trying to evade the blows instead of meet them, when I stopped abruptly after the fortieth smack, letting the brush fall as he slumped.
We were still and quiet for a moment, the only sound in the room our harsh breath, until I urged him back to the floor with gentle hands, reaching for the gag. His face was red and wet with tears but calm and very happy, his big eyes searching my face for the smile I gave him. I unbuckled the gag; as something he truly hates, I only use it when he needs reminding, like today, or when he can't be trusted to stay silent, or when he's been honestly, inexcusably bad. I'd hate for it to lose its effectiveness. He cracked his jaw gratefully, and smiled at me.
"Thank you, sir. THANK you. That was..." He shook his head, looking awed. "Wow."
I stroked his cheek, kissed his mouth, then pushed his head to my leg. "Clean up your mess, honey. You're welcome."
He wrinkled that cute little nose as he looked at the trail of cum he'd left on my thigh and calf, but he was still floating high on a joybuzz and endorphins and not willing to put up a fuss. He stretched out his tongue and started with little catlike licks, but got into it soon enough, and I was getting a proper tongue bath. I masturbated lazily, watching him lick his semen off my skin, feeling the pleasurable heat of orgasm build in my groin and balls and cock. When it swelled up I let it come, pumping my cum over his head and neck and shoulders. He jumped, shocked, and I shivered at the sight, creamy runners of spunk glistening even whiter than his skin, and he bowed his head as I spurted again and again, hot pleasure shooting up my spine to my brain, making me gasp.
"Fuck, yeah," I moaned, holding my cock as the last shudders made me momentarily weak. Sebastian, after his first surprise, kept licking me as I came, and his tongue was worshipping my now-clean skin. I reached out and grabbed his hair, pulling his face to my crotch gently, letting him nose around down there for his own comfort as much as mine. He let out a deep shuddering sigh and relaxed, finally and completely, his nose and lips tucked against my heavy sac, shoulders curled against my leg and the bed. I stroked his hair absently, letting my eyes fall closed, the peace of the moment seeping into my heart.
"You smell good," he said softly, after a long time. His breath was a warm buzzing tickle on my most sensitive skin, and I laughed a little and squirmed. "You do!" he insisted indignantly, breathing deep as if to prove his point, nose buried in the hot dampness under my balls.
"Well, that makes one of us," I teased, grinning down at him as he stuck out his tongue at me. "I know a certain boy who needs a shower."
"Yeah, well, who came all over me?" His eyes were shining, no trace of the sullenness he'd had on waking, and I thumbed his nose. "I really don't think you can blame me for that, sir."
"Who's blaming you? I'm just saying you're so sexy I couldn't help myself. And Sebastian...it's time to start calling me Lance again."
He nodded hesitantly, mouthing the word-Lance, Lance-over and over, like he'd just learned it for the first time. He had to learn to separate public from private completely; I wasn't naïve enough to think that Seb deferring to me with a non-joking "yes sir" would go unremarked in public. "It feels strange," he said finally, getting to his feet at my urging. "Like I'm being disrespectful."
"Think of it as being obedient," I suggested, taking his hand as we headed for the shower. "I want you to call me Lance whenever there's anyone around, and sir when we're in private. It's just another rule, sweetie."
"I'm gonna forget," he predicted direly. But then he perked right back up again. "But then you'll have to punish me! And that's a forgetting thing, not a being-bad thing, so I'll only get the cat or the paddle. That'll be cool."
I'm pretty sure I didn't stop laughing until the shower was over, even though I had to wonder if I was already getting predictable. Sebastian was in a playful mood too, splashing water at me and then yelping with pained joy when I swatted his rosy butt, dancing out of reach and teasing me. We ignored our cocks and just goofed off for once, splashing and tickling and wrestling, though his hands when he washed me were as careful and reverent as ever, and he kissed me sweetly before getting our towels. He even brought me the belt, though his hands were shaking noticeably, and he looked at it with a strange mixture of affection and disgust. That same old split: part of him wanted to be good and obedient and loved everything that helped him towards that goal, while the other part wanted free rein to do as he pleased, and detested anything that controlled him. I strapped him in gently, and let him stand and pant and shake and sweat for a few long moments as he readjusted to being effectively castrated, if only temporarily. He was pale but composed when I kissed him goodbye and headed out the door. I saw his shadow by the window as I got into the car.
It was strange, leaving him alone like that. We'd been joined at the hip-or my cock-for so many days now, it almost felt like I'd left part of me behind. But at the same time, I took a moment to stretch luxuriously and close my eyes and rub the back of my neck, once I was in the car alone. I hadn't realized how stressed I'd been, too busy paying attention to Sebastian. I didn't go into this with any illusions that he would be easy, or that it would be all fun and games, but I hadn't been expecting this constant vigilance and expenditure of energy. And in return, I was getting mostly resistance and argument. But those flashes of surrender, the moments of sweetness and obedience and calm, I reminded myself...those were so incredible they made it all worthwhile. I headed out for my errands with a smile on my face.
The whole time I was gone I worried about my boy, which was ridiculous, and I knew it. He'd been living on his own for years now, he was perfectly capable of minding himself for two hours. But I couldn't stop fretting, no matter how sternly I told myself to relax, and by the end of my shopping trip, I was literally rolling my eyes at myself. I needed to stay a little more detached than this, I knew, or he'd have me jumping to his beck and call even more than he already did. Clearly, Seb wasn't the only one in need of some occasional downtime.
He didn't greet me at the door, which was a little disappointing, but I could hear just a thread of his voice from the direction of the practice room, and smiled to myself. I made my way there, and peeked in, expecting to see him wearing clothes-I'd given him permission, while he was doing his chores-and standing by the microphone stand.
He was standing, all right. He had put on his heaviest cuffs and collar, the unforgivingly heavy steel and leather set, and the sharpest, most vicious nipple clamps we had, but the rest of him was bare. He had one foot up on a chair, his body was twisted sideways with his hair falling into his eyes, and he was working away at one of the locks on his chastity belt with a small screwdriver. He was singing while he did it, which lent the whole scene an air of total surrealism.
"What are you DOING?" I was more stunned than angry, really. I couldn't figure out what the hell was going on.
He jumped and spun in the same movement, the screwdriver falling from his hand, his face flushing a deep, guilty red. "Hi Lance," he squeaked, then cleared his throat. "Hi. Um. It's later than I thought, isn't it."
"I'd think so, probably, yeah." I took a step towards him, eyes sweeping his body. The belt was still firmly, immovably in place. It didn't even look like he'd managed to loosen it. "I think you should explain yourself, and you'd better talk damned quick."
He nodded eagerly, gulped. "Well. I did all my chores-all of them!-and I was thinking, and thought, what if someday I'm in the belt and there's an emergency!"
"An emergency that requires you to have an erect cock?" I raised an eyebrow at him, and he squirmed, going even more purple.
"No. Yes. Possibly, I don't know, but that's not the point! The point is, would I be able to get out of it. And the answer is clearly no, right? So that's good to know." He clasped his hands in front of him and looked at me pleadingly.
I put my hands to my head, shaking it back and forth. "Sebastian..." My voice sounded tired, even to me. "Are you even trying, here? Are you making an attempt to be good, even a small one? Because if you are, I can't see it. I can't be your babysitter, I can't be with you every moment of every day. I am your master, I will guide you and help you and discipline you, but you've got to try, and take some responsibility yourself, or this won't work."
He was crouched at my feet, quivering, in an instant. "I'm sorry," he whispered achingly. "I knew I was being bad, so I put on the cuffs I don't like, see? And the clamps, because I knew I deserved it. But I had to try, Lance, I had to see if I could get out of it. Knowing that I can't...it makes it easier. I can accept it now, instead of fighting it or trying to pry it off when you aren't looking." His eyes pleaded with me for understanding, and I nodded at him.
"I get it, Seb, I understand. But that doesn't change the fact that you did it without permission, without my approval. If you'd come to me and told me what you just said, I would have given you the screwdriver and let you have a try at it. Instead, you went behind my back. If I hadn't caught you, were you going to tell me?"
"I think so," he mumbled, eyes swimming, hands twisting in the fabric of my pants. "I was planning to, but I might not have, I don't know. I'm so sorry."
"It's okay," I sighed, finally touching his hair. "I know it takes a while to build the kind of trust we need to have. Next time...come to me, okay? When you get one of these impulses?"
He nodded frantically. "I trust you, I do. I'll know better next time. Does...does this mean I won't be punished for this?" He couldn't keep the hope and disappointment out of his voice, and I pinched his chin and drew him to his feet.
"I'll have to think about it." His face fell, and I smiled. "Go get those things off, and I never want to see you playing with the toys again unless I'm here, you understand me? It could be very dangerous, Seb. I want your word." I looked at him sternly, and he dipped his head, obviously chastened.
"Yes sir. I promise."
I reached out and yanked the clamps off his nipples, barely opening them first, and he howled and danced back and forth on his feet, as I watched returning blood turn the little nubs an angry, inflamed red. "Good," I said calmly, over the noise he was making. "Now. Out of your cuffs and collar and belt, and go get clothes on. You've got the afternoon off, I want you to just settle into remembering how to be when there are other people around. You can pretend I'm not your master if you want; your manners still apply, but I want you to be in charge of your behavior for a little while." If he didn't start internalizing this soon, I was going to burn out long before he was ever truly mastered.
He glanced up at me nervously. "You mean...I can play X-box? And swear? And go take a nap, if I want?"
I shrugged. "Sure. Whatever you want. I advise you to move your bed somewhere out of the way, so the guys don't think we're keeping a dog hidden around here. And don't forget to lock the playroom." I forced my tone to absolute disinterest as I unlocked his belt and stripped it off him. He looked increasingly nervous, and his cock didn't even twitch. Well, he had come earlier, after all, but still, that was telling.
"I'm going to go take a nap. And jerk off. In your bed." He sounded almost scared, and looked at me expectantly. I shrugged again.
"Whatever. Don't forget to take your plug out and wipe up before you get dressed." As I left the room, the look of shock on his face etched itself into my memory.
I spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon transferring all my accounting to my bookkeeper, including my investments and household accounts. Sebastian was taking up too much of my attention for me to be able to keep up with this, and I didn't want anything to slip. Also, I figured I'd be needing a vacation soon enough; the only question was, would Seb be coming with me or not? I grinned to myself and made a note to check online, to see if there were any "scene friendly" vacation ideas floating around out there. It might be nice to get away to the house. Meet other people living like us, and maybe--the thought both troubled and thrilled me--hand Sebastian over to someone a little more experienced, for some supplemental training.
I finished the books, and warmed up my fingers and guitar in anticipation of the practice later that night, aware the whole time of Sebastian drifting around in my peripheral awareness. He'd put on the cream turtleneck and dark jeans that he'd worn over his gear when we went to Ben's, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out if that meant something or not. He wandered by the door of the study and then the practice room a lot more times than a random walking pattern would account for. At one point I could hear him clattering around in the kitchen, and then the TV came on obnoxiously loud, followed by Sebastian's voice shouting swear words; I just closed the door and ignored it. Soon the sound went down, and I could hear his footsteps in the hall.
"Lance?"
"Yeah, Seb?" Casual casual, like I didn't miss his naked collared body at my knee as I worked.
"I'm going for a walk." Almost, not quite, asking permission.
"Cool." Disinterest. There was a long pause, I could almost see him fidgeting outside the door, and then the footsteps retreated, punctuated by a muttered "shit." I dropped my aching head to the desk with a thump.
Fortunately, the newest numbers from our tour manager had finally come in, and that distracted me until I realized that it was time think about getting ready for the guys. I shut down the computer, stretched, and walked through the door-
And almost tripped over Sebastian. He was kneeling motionlessly in the hallway, completely naked, with his collar and cuffs and chastity belt laid carefully on the floor in front of him. The heavy leather strap was lying neatly next to them, and his largest, cruelest plug. I stood and stared for a moment, and he didn't move a muscle.
"Sebastian?" I invited him to talk, to explain.
"Master," he murmured quietly, his eyes on the floor, his body a perfect pale curve against the dark hardwood. "Please don't leave me alone."
I bent down and picked up the strap, swishing it through the air, my head spinning. He didn't flinch away from the arc, even when it came close to him. "Convince me," I offered, wanting to hear his thoughts.
"I'll try harder," he said quickly, desperately, never moving a muscle. "Please put my collar and belt and plug back on me, make me yours again. Please. I need you so much. Please beat me and fuck me hard, punish me for making you think I didn't want this, or trust you. Please, sir." He finally raised his eyes to mine, and they were swimming with tears. "Please hurt me very badly for that."
I was silent for a moment, swinging the strap back and forth, looking at him. Such incredible beauty at my feet, but was his lesson learned? I thought not, but at least it was a step in the right direction. I dropped the strap and grabbed the collar, slipping it around his neck and fastening it with gentle hands. As it clicked into place, a huge shuddering sigh of relief escaped him, and he relaxed.
"I'm not going to hurt you, not right now," I told him, and he mewed in disappointment. "The guys will be here in an hour, and I think it would be a little hard to explain your raw ass to them. I'll think about it, though, and I want you to as well. We'll talk about it tonight." He nodded reluctantly. He's always hated it when I postpone punishment. "Now, go put these things away, and lock the room. Dress yourself. Then come back down, we've got to get the amps set up for the practice." I raised him to his feet, and he stood gracefully at my lightest touch.
"Thank you, sir." He bowed a little, and smiled at me tentatively. I couldn't help but smile back. He charms me just by breathing, Sebastian does.
When the doorbell rang, I had to check my watch. Half an hour early, and none of these guys were known for being particularly prompt. Fortunately, Sebastian had finished his preparations a while ago; the last time I'd seen him he'd been wearing jeans and a tight black t-shirt, and the slim, plain leather collar that he'd begged to be allowed to keep on. Given some of the stuff he'd worn on stage before, it was completely innocuous, so I gave him permission.
When I opened the door, I was more surprised than I should have been to see Adam standing on the step. After all, Seb had told me that he suspected something was going on, and I should have known he'd take this chance to check up on both of us. He grabbed me in a hug, though his smile was more wary than was usual for him.
Adam's a big guy, well over six feet and built like a linebacker, blond and blue-eyed and with a broad, kind, handsome face. He's sweet, but he can defend himself; of all of us, he'd been the target of Seb's tantrums the least. He's also very protective of the band and all his friends, and I kicked myself for not realizing he'd be here as soon as he could.
"Lance, man." He slapped my back once, then held me away from him, watching me with shrewd eyes. "Long time."
"Too long." I grinned at him, thrilled to see him, and pulled him into the entryway, kicking the door closed behind me. I could hear the thunder of Seb's feet coming down the stairs. "It's fantastic to see you. You're here early, though, I wasn't aware hell had frozen over yet."
That got a laugh out of Adam, and he relaxed a little. His lateness is legendary. "Yeah. I just wanted to say hey, you know, without the other guys here. I talked to Seb last week, and it sounded like you all had something going on here. You two are my brothers, you know that, so I just wanted to make sure things were straight with you."
"I can pretty much guarantee that nothing whatsoever is straight with us," I said, snickering, and he flushed and thumped my shoulder.
"Ha fucking ha, funnyman. You know what I mean."
"Yeah." I sobered up a little, and nodded at him. "Things are really good. For both of us." As if in punctuation, Sebastian skidded around the corner on his sock-clad feet, and basically hurled himself at Adam, whooping at the top of his lungs. Adam, used to Seb as he is, just braced and caught him, laughing with what looked like relief. After a huge squeeze, he set my boy down carefully, and Sebastian stepped back to my side.
"Okay, okay, I believe you. Whatever it is, it's good. Only have to look at our bouncing baby boy here to know it." He grinned at Sebastian, who yelped in protest. "But what the hell is it? I'd say you were in a cult, but I know you're smarter than that, Lance. And..." he trailed off, clearly unwilling to guess, but demanding an answer.
I looked at him carefully, mind racing with my options. Adam was both intelligent and open minded, the first person I'd come out to way back when we were getting the band together, and I trusted him completely. The question was, could he handle this? He looked back at me, ready to hear and accept and understand, and my decision was made.
"Sebastian." I used that special tone and touched his shoulder lightly, and Sebastian, still hypersensitive from what we'd been through before, slipped gracefully and instantly to his knees at my side. His feet tucked underneath him, head bowed, hands folded quietly on his thighs, he was the picture of complete submission and obedience. "Good boy," I murmured, and watched Adam's eyes flare wide with shock. This was the moment of truth.
"Fuuuuck." It was a long drawn-out exclamation of disbelief, and he stared from me, to Sebastian, and back to me. "What the...I figured it was something like this, but...Seb?"
"You can answer," I told him gently, and Adam's startled eyes locked on me, even as Sebastian lifted his head with a beautiful smile.
"I'm okay," he assured Adam earnestly. "I'm SO okay, Adam, this is my choice, it's what I want. Lance is just helping me. Not just, I mean, he's the reason it works, but...it's good. It's wonderful. Please be happy for me."
Adam was still staring, and he ran a distracted hand through his hair, silent for a long moment. "I think I need a beer," he finally muttered, shaking his head. "And I want to talk to Sebastian alone." I nodded understanding, brushed Seb's hair with my hand, and went to get the beer. I took a long time, dawdling in the kitchen, ignoring the low hum of voices as they talked, but when I heard Sebastian giggle, I figured it was okay to rejoin them. They'd moved to the living room, and were sitting on the couch; I handed Adam a beer, and Sebastian a bottled water, and took a long swallow of my own beer, hoping to ease the tight knot of tension in my stomach.
"Fuck," Adam said again, still looking a bit stunned, but much more relaxed. "Okay, I think I get it. But never, ever tell me details of y'all's love life, you understand? I just do not want to know."
"Oh, sure," Seb teased, grinning at him, and then beaming at me as I kissed him quickly before sitting down. "You know you want to hear about-"
"No no!" Adam held up a warning hand. "I mean it. Sherry-you guys remember Sherry? We dated for a couple months like a year ago? She liked being spanked and blindfolded, and that was pretty cool, but I think-I KNOW-this is quite a bit more than that. As long as it works for you and you're both happy, I'll support you, but I do NOT want to know." He was grinning as he said it, but I think we could both tell he meant it.
"Okay," I nodded, relief washing through me. Adam was an ally, then, someone we didn't have to hide entirely from. Something I knew we'd need desperately on the road. "No details, you got it."
"Oh!" Sebastian jumped up as the doorbell rang again, and raced for the door excitedly. I chuckled and drank more of my beer, truly relaxing for the first time in a long while. Adam was watching me closely, and finally smiled.
"I haven't seen him this happy since his dad died," he said briefly. "You're doing good, man."
"Yeah?" I tugged on a curl of my own hair, embarrassed and grinning a little. "It's not exactly easy, you know. For me either."
"Yeah, well, with Sebastian how could you expect anything to be easy?" He toasted me with his beer. "But you...you look better too. More relaxed or something, you're smiling a lot more. I think this is a good thing, even if it's all kinds of fucked up."
"It's good, it is," I assured him, needing him to believe me. "And it's not THAT fucked up. Unusual, maybe, but not as rare as you'd think, and pretty healthy, actually."
"As long as it keeps the coke straw out of his nose, his jimmy out of the groupies, and my furniture intact? It's gotta be healthy." He groaned. "And steers him away from the new drummer and whoever his SO is. Honest to god, Lance, I almost killed your boy there for losing us that last one."
I nodded. We'd lost our original drummer to the church; our lifestyle hadn't jived with his newfound beliefs, so we'd parted ways with no hard feelings on either part, and we'd been playing with session drummers and trial replacements ever since. The last one had seemed perfect, but then Sebastian had come on to his girlfriend backstage one night, in full view of us all, licking his lips at her and thrusting his hips, and Bob had almost punched him out before grabbing his girlfriend and disappearing. The last month of the tour, we'd had to make due with a guy the record company had hired, and he hadn't been great, but it had gotten the job done. Before we tried to record the next album, we had to find someone right for us.
"He won't," I assured Adam. "He's not doing that any more."
"If you're right, you're more of a miracle worker than I thought," Adam said, but he sounded hopeful. We broke off our conversation as voices approached, Seb and James chattering away, and I smiled a little, knowing that Sebastian would have taken care of his apology privately, and that I'd hear the story later. I settled in with my beer, content to be among my friends, eager to get playing.
Part Twelve: Baby
It was almost TOO weird, having the guys over, having Adam know almost everything and James just think we were regular boyfriends, having Lance be just Lance instead of "Sir" for the first time in so long I almost couldn't remember when life had been different. Plus, my insides were still all shaky and weak, from the feelings I'd had when he'd abandoned me for those hours in the afternoon.
I'm a grownup, I can live my own life. If something happened and me and Lance didn't make it, I'd be okay. But I'd rather not have to, I like it SO much better when Lance is in control, when Lance has responsibility for me. When I can tell how much he loves me by how he hurts me and pets me and shames me. It's wonderful, and when he took it away this afternoon I thought I'd die. Until then I'd mostly been thinking about ways to get around what Lance wanted me to do, like his control was something I didn't even want, or something that was all HIS idea. God. I can be so dumb sometimes, it's scary. In those hours in the afternoon, I remembered just how scary it can be when you've got no one to answer to but your own fucked up self.
I'd felt lost. My feelings were hurt, too, that Lance could just send me away so casually, and my body ached emptily. One week of always wearing the plug and my ass felt vacant and needy and stretched without it. I was itching inside, something was missing, and it grew and grew until I was almost in tears, and knew that I had to beg him to take me back right away, to reestablish us in the roles I suddenly realized I needed so much.
He's smart, Lance is; because of that afternoon, I was totally on my best behavior that night. Even with the other guys around, my attention was almost always on him, the whole evening. I don't think it was obvious, but I managed to wait on him a little at dinner, and I sat as close to his knee as I could when we were eating. Adam's great; he watched us, yeah, but he looked puzzled and amused, not disgusted or anything bad. Of course, he hadn't seen our playroom or anything, or my bottom after I'd been bad, but I knew he knew things had to be going on that would be kind of strange to him, and he didn't judge, at least that I could see. He'd asked me really seriously if I was sure about what was happening to me. Without going into too many details, I swore up and down that Lance, and this, were the best things that ever happened to me. I think he believed me.
We had dinner, and it was almost like being back on tour, telling jokes and playing around. I could tell that James was totally baffled by how nice I was being, but the truth is, I didn't even WANT to be nasty to him. I was happy just taking my cues from Lance, who gave me nods when I was doing well, and a little warning shake of his head the one time I started to get angry at James's teasing. I almost snapped when Adam kept missing the long arpeggio in one of our ballads-he obviously hadn't practiced it enough!-but again, I managed to catch myself before I'd done more than growl.
The music was fantastic, as always. When I'm singing, I go to that same incredible place I can reach sometimes when Lance is training me, where I'm perfect and happy and content, doing what I know is right for me. We ran through our whole set from the tour, and Adam showed us some new stuff, which totally kicked ass. He even brought some lyrics in; though those are usually my department, he had written some really cool lines that I knew would sound incredible when we got the whole song pulled together.
By the time they left, I was exhausted, but happy. It had gone so well; I hadn't called Lance 'sir' even once, though it was a near thing a couple of times, and I hadn't lost my temper or broken any of my rules. We waved goodbye to them from the door, Lance's hand gentle on the small of my back, and when the door swung closed, Lance cupped my face in his hands and drew me down for a long, deep kiss. I sighed into it, my eyes falling closed, and just gave myself to him.
He was smiling when he pulled away. "You made me very proud of you tonight, Seb." I couldn't help but glow at his words, my whole body feeling warm and joyful. "GOOD boy." His voice was rich with approval, and I wiggled like a puppy, squirming my hard cock against his body, almost dancing.
"Yeah? I was good?" I grinned, wanting to hear more.
"You know you were, brat. Now it's time to get those clothes off," he commanded gently, pushing me away a little as he laughed. "Fold them neatly, and go to your room. I'll be up soon, I need to get some things ready for tonight."
"What things?" I was eager to know, and scared. I knew we hadn't really addressed my misbehavior with the belt earlier, and had no idea if my success this evening had counteracted that. I doubted it; Lance believes in rewards for good behavior and punishment for bad, but he doesn't cancel out one with the other. Otherwise, he says, it's too hard to keep track of where you are in the reckoning.
"That's for me to know and you to find out," he said firmly, though his eyes were shining wickedly and I got a delicious tickle of fear. "Now keep up your winning record, kiddo. Get going."
I practically bolted away from him. Aside from the paddling that morning, I hadn't been disciplined for well over twenty four hours, and I was feeling the lack. I hoped he'd be very harsh with me, though the idea terrified me. Ever since the experience at Ben's, I'd realized he'd been holding himself back with me. I wanted him to let go, and at the same time I hoped he never did.
I've never stripped so fast, though I was careful to fold my clothes and put them away. The room was dark, so I turned on the light and read the rules again, finding them as comforting as always. By the time Lance stepped through the door, already naked and intimidatingly hard, a full glass of something in his hand, I was kneeling on the mat in the middle of the room, my cock aching to be touched.
"Sebastian." Just my name, in that tone of voice, and I was wise enough to start shaking. "Tell me why we're here right now."
"I tried to take my belt off without permission," I said, voice as calm as I could make it. "I didn't trust you enough to ask for what I needed."
He nodded approval, his face set in that terrible kindness that he shows when he's about to make me scream. My mouth drooled for his cock, my body tensed in knowledge of what was to come. "I will give you everything you need. Always. Because you were thinking only of yourself again, you forgot that. That body is mine, you agreed to that and I accepted it as my responsibility. We're going to start making that a reality tonight."
"Ho-how is that, sir?" My voice was barely a whisper, and pulled at my suddenly-dry throat.
"You'll see." He touched the crown of my head with a finger, and my head bent instantly. "Outside the door are some plastic sheets. Go get them and put them on your dog bed, and bring me the paper bag that is with them. Do NOT look inside."
"Yes sir." I scrambled to my feet and rushed to follow his instructions. Not looking into that bag was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do, but I managed it, and soon had the bed made up as he'd requested, wondering all the time what they were for. Was he finally going to make me bleed tonight? My belly clenched at the thought, and I walked back to the room much more slowly.
"Now come here." He gestured to me, and I walked trembling to stand in front of him, in the center of four of the D-rings that had been bolted to the floor. He handed me the glass with a little smile, and I drank the contents obediently, grimacing at the thick texture and strange taste. When I'd finished it he took it away from me and set the glass aside, and with the efficiency of long practice, had me in ankle and wrist cuffs and the heavy collar I'd worn earlier, in self-inflicted penance. My mind started to drift at the first touch of the leather, as it always did, anticipating the pain before it even began.
"All fours, please, sweetie." His tone brooked no questions, so I went down, and he fastened my hands and ankles to the rings with short lengths of chain. I could move neither forward nor back, couldn't stand or fall flat. I was effectively trapped in this position, and let my head hang, staring down my body at my cock, hanging full and red and pointing at the floor. The tip was dripping, and my balls were tight and painful, despite the fact that I'd come earlier that day. When I felt his hands on my head I raised it, and was more surprised than I should have been when sharp fingers at the hinge of my jaw forced my mouth open and the horrible rubber ball pressed my tongue down flat. I shook my head instinctively, and his hand connected with my bottom sharply, making me jump and then sit very still.
"You can't use your safeword now," he told me, and I nodded mute understanding. "I'm going to watch you very carefully, and if you need to stop, tap the ground three times. Just like in wrestling." I nodded again, trying to adjust my breathing around the gag, my throat tight with the need to speak. There's something about the gag that I hate more than anything else we use; it takes away who I am, and leaves me nothing but a reacting body, no way to communicate with my master except through the messages of pain my body can send him. It's terrifying on a level that nothing else is, and I could feel the sweat start to prickle along my spine and across my shoulders. He moved around some more, and I heard clicks and beeps that confused me completely, but I couldn't see what he was doing. Then I closed my eyes as I heard something swish through the air.
"Strap tonight, baby," his awful, gentle voice, with no mercy in it, was hammering at my ears. I tried to make my body as small as possible. "You may not come. You must stay on your hands and knees. I love you very much. Nod if you understand." I nodded blindly, pressing my palms hard into the rubber mat, wishing for something to hold on to. My hole was fluttering wildly, and I wished for the weight of a plug, again, something to ground me and distract me. Better yet, Lance's cock, and we could skip the beating altoget-
Always a horrifying, incredible, insane, screaming surprise, the first blow. The pain and shock of it arced through me like electricity, sending me leaping forward only to be caught by the straps on my ankles and yanked painfully back to my knees. I was screaming against the gag, the sound unsatisfying and muted, my jaw straining to widen around the ball and release the breath. As soon as the burn subsided the second blow fell, harder than the first, and I shrieked obscenities into uncaring rubber, my face burning and twisting under my tears, my hands fisting against the mat, my whole body shaking. By the fourth blow I was yanking against the chains constantly, desperate to get away from the strap which was hitting my bottom in the same place each time, building pain on pain and scream on scream, each stroke harsher than the last. I spread my knees as far as they would go, pushing my hips down involuntarily, and the tip of my cock brushed the floor, sending me bolting back up with another howl. Too much, too much sensation, too much pain, and the touch on my cock was going to make me come...then the eighth stroke fell and I had much more urgent things to occupy me.
It was mercy, maybe, when Lance stopped at fifteen, though by that point I was boneless and sobbing helplessly, crouched down as far as I could get without my penis brushing the floor, and the pain was a red fire in my blood, my heart beating against my breastbone like it was trying to escape. I was sucking for air through my nose, my mouth raw and wet around the gag where I had drooled around it, and when I felt Lance's hands yanking playfully on my balls and spreading my cheeks, I could only moan.
He loves to fuck me after he beats me. More often than not, that's the only time I feel his cock inside me, and I crave it like I crave air, so I held very still, waiting to feel his fingers. I'd been without a plug, after all, for a long time now, and with nothing else inside me, surely he wouldn't just...
Pain, more intense for the fact that it was INSIDE me, as he forced that huge cock of his into my body. I lurched forward again, trying to get away, but he held me still with a harsh hand on my shoulder, and I arched my back and keened out all the agony and the intense flickers of pleasure that were coursing up my spine. Then my ass was full of him, stretching and tearing me open, as my anus tried frantically to push him out. His cock felt like it was on fire, searing my body and branding me Lance's forever, inside and out. Every "no," every "please," every "oh god, please stop, I can't, it hurts," was turned into a mushy mumble by the gag, and I felt red heat behind my eyes as he started to fuck in and out of my body. Sometimes when he's using me like this I feel almost like I'm not even there, like I've become part of him, like I've simply become an extension of his lust and love. This time, though, the raw place where he'd beat me so many times was slammed by his hipbones on each thrust, and I was dying to come, and he was whispering that he loved me, and I was dying to come, and his cockhead raked over my prostate cruelly each time, and I was dying to come, and the only thing I could think of was that I could. Not. Come.
My ass was a giant throb of scarlet pain, so intense that I couldn't separate it from pleasure, so brutal that my brain just went offline, and I clung to control of my cock with my last thread of consciousness. I could not come, I could not disobey, I could not disappoint Lance, and I chanted that to myself as he forced himself deeper and deeper into me, corkscrewing his hips and grinding his cock so deep it felt like he'd never be able to leave. When he finally came, the salty pulses painful as a fingernail dragged against my insides, I gasped in relief. I'd done it. He collapsed against my back, forcing my shaking arms and legs down into a crouch again, bearing his weight.
"Good boy, good boy," he murmured, and bit the nape of my neck sharply, then licked the bitemark, setting me squirming again. I was whimpering, I couldn't stop, shaking and sweating and jerking involuntarily with every touch on my hypersensitive skin. "Oh, you're such a good boy, Seb. You're learning, you're so smart and good." He was crooning now, and I felt myself slowly relax, and he pulled out of me quickly, dragging my back into a low arch as he did. I felt cold and empty when he was gone, sweaty and filthy and small, crouched and bound to the floor like that. My eyes were barely open, but I saw his feet pass in front of me as my wrists were released, his strong fingers massaging just below the cuffs, where my skin had gone bloodless with the force of my struggles.
"That's a boy." I could tell he was smiling, and forced my eyes open to see it, since Lance's smiles are not to be missed. I glanced up and he was looking down at me, his eyes bright, smile wide and genuine and loving, and I crinkled my eyes at him, the closest I could come to a smile with the gag in my mouth. I waited for him to remove it, like he always did, but he made no move towards it, just rubbing my hands until they were flesh-toned again. I purred, filled with self-satisfaction and anticipation. Surely he'd let me come again now.
"We're going to try something new tonight, honey," he told me softly, and I whimpered hopefully. "You won't like it," he promised, and my eyes widened, "and I'm going to leave your gag on so that you won't say anything we'll both regret later. And Sebastian, the three-tap rule still applies. But if you use it for this, there will be consequences. I will stop, of course, but I will not touch you again, in any way, for three days. Do you understand?" I stared at him. I was shaking harder now than I had been when he was fucking me. "It won't hurt you, except your pride," he added, looking me straight in the eyes. "It's what I've decided you need, and you must trust me."
I nodded, hesitantly. The thought of Lance withdrawing from me for three whole days was awful; I'd barely lasted three HOURS today, and he knew it. Without even knowing what he was going to do to me, anger started bubbling inside me. How could he use that against me? How could he be so fucking cruel, giving me the choice between some unknown horror or lack of what I had to have to live? He'd ruined the wonderful soft feelings of after-pain for me, as well, and I could feel myself getting tense again.
"Okay." I know he saw the anger, but he just smiled, and stroked my hair. "Stand up, sweetie. Walk around a little bit, get the blood flowing." I stood carefully, wincing at the intense pain in my ass. When I checked, there was blood and fluid dripping down between my legs, and my own cock was still hard, though not nearly as urgent as it had been before Lance's little announcement. I only watched warily as Lance fetched my longest, strongest leash, and snapped it to my collar, and I followed when he led me to the bed. When he pressed me down to the rubber sheet on my back, I knew he felt my stiffness and resistance, but he didn't say anything about it. I mumbled nasty things against the gag, knowing he couldn't hear, not really caring at that point if he COULD.
He stepped away for a moment, and when he returned he pulled me gently down the bed by my legs, until my bottom was very close to the edge. He spread my thighs with his hands, and I felt the cool sting of a wet wipe on my balls and penis and thighs, and then the BURN of it against my asshole, and I tossed my head and moaned weakly, scrunching up the bed as well as I could with no leverage.
"Sit still, Sebastian." His voice was warning, and I did, glaring at him hatefully. He pushed my thighs up towards my chest, and told me to hold them there, so I grabbed my knees and waited, watching him with wide eyes.
When I saw what he was holding, I simply lost. My. Mind. It's the only explanation, because I FLUNG myself off the bed and away from him without a thought, brought up short and yanked to the floor by his hold on the leash, and even then I braced my hands and twisted against him, fighting with every bit of strength left in me to get away. My mind was a blank wall of NO, and though I could see his tense face and straining muscles and his mouth moving, it made no impression and I couldn't understand his words. Finally, he released his hold on the leash and I crashed backwards with my own momentum, and he had a knee on my chest and my shoulders pinned to the floor, and I could hear him shouting my name.
"-ASTIAN! STOP! This instant, stop this RIGHT NOW BEFORE YOU HURT YOURSELF." I froze, paralyzed, shaking like a leaf, staring at him, sounds I couldn't even identify coming from my throat. He took a deep breath, and released his hold a fraction, shaking his head when I made no move to bolt. "You've got the choice," he said in a more reasonable tone, though his voice was tight and hard. "Tap three times, or stop this unbelievable misbehavior RIGHT now." I panted, feeling the air burn my strained lungs, and looked into his eyes, and surrendered. It was like a dam had broken, and suddenly I couldn't see him through the tears. No, no, no, I wanted to beg him. Please don't do this, I'll hate you for this, I'll get you for this, I can't do this. But of course, I couldn't.
He pulled me to my feet, none-too-gently, and pushed me back to the bed. I went, still crying silently, and lay on my back, my arms and legs heavy with dread. He lifted my hips up and slipped the seat of the diaper under them, then brought my legs back down, and I felt the crinkle of plastic between my legs as he drew it tight over my completely flaccid penis, flat over my lower abdomen, tightening the sticky tabs until it was snug around me. I stared at the ceiling and swore that I would never pee or crap again.
"You're probably thinking that you'll just never go," Lance said conversationally, and my eyes snapped to him in shock. He smirked at my surprise, and I hated him even more. "Considering the laxative and diuretic you drank earlier, it'll be interesting to see you try." He reached out to touch my cheek, and I turned my head away from him, so angry I could taste it. I heard him sigh, and his weight left the bed. I stared at the wall.
"You'll have to accept this, Sebastian," he said sadly. "Just like everything else. You can stay here and think about it for a little while. Don't touch your diaper, and don't leave the bed." He moved away, and soon I could hear the shower running.
I just lay there and seethed, the hateful thing on my body already itching and irritating me, my bladder already demanding to release, my bowels heavy. I hoped changing it was the most disgusting thing ever. Lance deserved it. All my earlier serenity and submission was gone, and I realized that it had mostly just been a veneer, a behavior assumed because I knew it would be rewarded by Lance and would bring me his praise, though my fear at his withdrawal had been genuine enough. Fucking Lance and his fucking ideas.
"Don't speak," were the first words he spoke to me when he returned. "I'm taking your gag off, but I don't want you to speak. God knows what would come out of your mouth, and I'm in no mood to tolerate it, so be silent." I nodded reluctantly, desperate to have the gag out of my aching, dry mouth. As soon as he pulled the ball away, I snapped my mouth shut, stretching my jaw carefully, working my tongue around until it was moist again. And I kept staring at the ceiling. I moved my focus to the floor when he pulled me to my feet, and I walked mechanically, crying inside at the tight cottony pressure against me, the bite of the elastic around the leg holes. He led me to our bedroom, sat me on the bed, and forced my head up. I kept my eyes deliberately unfocused, until a sharp pain in my nipple snapped my attention unwillingly to Lance.
"Thank you," he said dryly, looking me in the eyes, and he seemed...amused? As well as angry. "Pay attention, here. No more zoning, or you'll regret it." I could feel my stubborn anger like a hard ball in my chest, but it was impossible to ignore the habits of obedience I'd gained over the last week, and I focused on him reluctantly. "I know you're upset right now, and that's okay, though your defiance definitely is NOT. I want you to go to your bed and think about it for a while, I'm going to finish up a few things I'm working on here. If you dirty your diaper before it's time for your spanking, I'll change you and put a fresh one on, and you'll sleep in comfort. If you get stubborn and try to hold it, though, any mess you make in the night will be yours to live with until it's morning. Do you understand?"
I nodded, my whole body burning with shame. Until he talked about it, I couldn't believe he'd be keeping me in these things; surely it was a one-off, a scare tactic, something to shame me into surrender. But there was no hesitation in his voice, and I blinked a plea at him.
"You can ask. Politely," he warned.
"Sir," I ground it out. "How long will I be wearing these...THINGS?" I squirmed on the bed, desperate to get it off. He stroked my hair, and this time I didn't move away.
"As long as you need to." He sounded tired, but I didn't care. I've never hated anyone more than I hated Lance then, and yet some part of me was coming back, desperate for his approval and touch and love. I nodded jerky acceptance, and he smiled again, patted my shoulder, and sent me to my bed.
Lying curled on your side is possibly the hardest position to hold when you have to use the toilet. Something about the position squishes up your insides, and forces everything to try to get out. Within fifteen minutes, I was squirming miserably, knowing Lance could hear because of the plastic sheet on the bed, not even caring any more. I clamped down with every muscle in my body, and thought fiercely and determinedly about music, and all the not-Lance people I'd ever fucked, and then about Lance and how well and perfectly HE'd fucked me tonight. That actually distracted me really well, and Lance's light touch on my hip made me jump in startlement.
"Just checking," he murmured, slipping a finger into the leg of the diaper, and shaking his head when he found it dry. "Oh, Seb. You stubborn little shit. Well, it's your call." He pulled me out of the bed and had me across his knees quickly, and spanked me ten times with a light hand. I almost couldn't feel the smacks; the pressure of his thighs on my belly was almost unbearable, and I was howling through clenched teeth by the time he was done. He rested a hand on my bottom before refastening the diaper, stroking the hot place where the strap had landed earlier. "Last chance," he murmured. "Let it go, honey. Give in."
I shook my head mutely, teeth clamped in my lower lip, and he sighed. "You're going to regret this," he told me, and I almost bitched back that I already did. But even I'm not that crazy, and I let him cuff my wrists to my collar, and curled back up in my bed silently. Before he even turned out the light, the cramping in my bladder and gut was so intense I was whining under my breath, trying hopelessly to straighten my legs.
"Sebastian, hush," Lance snapped in the darkness, and his voice startled me so much that my bladder just released. Warm wetness filled the front of the diaper, and I cried out wordlessly, relief and shame and horror washing through me. The relaxation of it caught me by surprise, and I felt the first gush from my hole, as well, and clamped down hard. But my body, stretched out by plugs and Lance and dildos, couldn't hold it in, and before I knew it, cramps were pushing through me and I'd soiled the diaper helplessly, the shit held hot and acid against my skin by the diaper, squishing slippery between my cheeks.
The first sob came from somewhere so deep down inside me I didn't even know it was there, and wrenched its way out of my body, wet and raw and loud. The second came instantly after that, and before I could catch my breath I was hysterical, almost hyperventilating with the force of the emotions I couldn't hold in any more. I cried myself dry and lightheaded and exhausted, and through it all, Lance was silent, not comforting me or scolding me or saying anything at all. He just let me get it out, and when I'd finally slowed down to wet sniffles and shakes, I felt his hand on my shoulder.
"Do you have something to tell me, baby?" His voice held no anger in the dark.
"Thank you," I said, and meant it. MEANT it. My whole soul felt clean, like I'd cried out every bit of anger I'd ever had. I knew it would be back, but for now, I felt young and delicate and innocent and clean and so exhausted I could see everything clearly, finally. "I love you, sir. Thank you for helping me be good."
His hand stroked my hair back, wiped my cheeks, and knuckles ran lightly down my throat. "Oh, honey. You are welcome." He kissed my mouth, light and sweet, and then my cheek, and went back to bed.
[end part twelve]