Preface:
This story is written for all Sirs who have genuinely loved their boy and for all boys who have absolutely loved their Sir. If you are looking for an honest story of the insight, trust, and devotion that only a Dom and a boy may share, please continue. People first; sex and pain, second.
All individuals are over the age of 18. Please keep Nifty alive and well, donate today!
This story is a work of fiction, modeled from reality. What is fiction in this story is changed to protect these sacred moments from the world. Please, friends, share your thoughts with me, desertdoms@protonmail.com.
The Liberators: Chapter 3 - Jaime's Lesson
Evan's recurring dream is as vivid as always. He sees in his mind's eye his childhood home. Floating in from the ceiling and drifting down to his bed he awakens to his parents chastising him for the cluttered state of the house, his missing brother, and the spiders falling from the ceiling. He runs from his parents, who give chase with long nails and sharpened teeth upon their distorted faces. He feels them tearing at his back. Racing to the front door, he fumbles with the handle. Just as he grips the doorknob, he is plunged into darkness.
"GAAAHHH!" Evan exclaims as he jolts awake. Sitting up in his small bed, sweat pouring from him - soaking his tattered undershirt.
Evan slowly gathers himself inside his tiny studio apartment. The AC window unit sputters and shakes a bit, hardly pushing chilled air for the 20'x 20' hovel of a room. The bed is wedged against the furthest corner from the door. Evan sleeps on the side closer to the door to better protect Jaime, his boy, from the world. Evan, still breathing heavily from the nightmare, looks down and sees his boy curled up against the wall on the bed.
Evan eyes Jaime's naked body, bathed in the orange tinge of light creeping through the blinds of the streetlights' sulfur bulbs. It has been over a month since Jaime's rescue and his older bruises are nearly healed. The newer ones, gifted to the boy by Evan, shine a dull purple in the orange light. Jaime has kicked the blankets off him in the summer night. Evan sees the scars on his body from the tortures Mike D and other monsters have inflicted upon him. Evan tenderly touches a few, aware that Jaime's past will always be visible on the poor boy's skin. How he survived those is a testament of his will yet shows a saga of pain. The boy's wrists bound together, a rope looped between them and attached to the cheap metal bed frame, his steepled hands give the illusion of prayer. Evan checks the boy's ankle restraints. "Still attached to one another and the bed. Good." Evan thinks to himself. Evan pats his boy's head softly, feeling the leather of the sensory deprivation hood, wishing he could touch Jaime's hair. The hood is the only thing that helps his boy rest.
Not wanting to wake his boy, Evan exits the bed gently.
He silently walks across the room to the front door, checking to make sure it is locked. Glancing from the side of the window blinds he surveys Lake Pleasant Parkway - afraid that Mike D and his cohorts await them on the street. Thankfully, the street is empty. Another night they are safe. Evan finds his gym shorts lying next to the bed, puts them on, and walks to the sliding glass door of the balcony. He glances at the microwave's clock: 3:34am. Evan thinks to himself, "God I hate the 5am shift. No way in hell I'm going to go back to sleep now."
Evan exits to the balcony and sits on a plastic milk crate, his makeshift chair. Lighting a half-burnt cigarette from the ashtray on the ground, Evan reflects on what life has been for the past month with Jaime. Jaime has been a good boy, helping to take care of the spartan apartment. Being frightened of going outside, he has taken to reading and cleaning when Evan is at work.
The first week was rough. Out of fear, Jaime would not fall asleep, and Evan could not sleep without his boy next to him. Evan knew something like this might happen. It has been three nights of this hell and Evan needed sleep. His work was starting to suffer, and his boss took notice. Throwing freight and unloading trucks at the grocery store is not something you do tired; someone will get hurt - someone did get hurt. He tried to talk to Jaime, to calm him down, to just sleep. Every time Evan tried Jaime would just shut down. His boy would curl into a ball and rock back and forth.
Evan tried to hold Jaime and fall asleep with him curled on Evan's chest or spooning him. Jaime would not sleep. He would wake Evan at every noise, creak, or small sound both inside and out of the apartment. Evan was timid in asserting himself to his boy. Hell, Evan was terrified of trying anything firm with the boy, for fear that Jaime would flee.
Evan knew he had failed Jaime those first few days. The boy needed structure, and Evan was too afraid to give that structure. Lighting a new cigarette, Evan's thoughts drifted to the third night with his boy. A night which finally brought Jaime some peace, and Evan some sleep.
Evan and Jaime are on the small couch in the living room, watching reruns of old shows on Netflix. Evan in simple garb of gym shorts and an undershirt. Jaime, in the thin boxer briefs Evan gave him. Evan turns his head to Jaime.
"Boy, you need to sleep. I can't keep up with you like this," pleaded Evan.
Jaime slightly turns his head and eyes toward Evan, then stops and returns to the screen.
"Then go to sleep." Jaime plainly said, void of emotion, robotic.
"No, not until I know you are okay, boy." said Evan.
"It doesn't matter about me. You said you needed to sleep, then sleep." Jaime's tone grows more defiant.
Evan, sensing an anger toward Jaime building within himself, calmly says "I'm telling you to go to bed, boy. Now."
Jaime's silence breeds tension in the room.
"Boy, look at me when I speak to you." Evan's voice filling with strained anger.
Jaime shifts slightly on the couch, eyes affixed to the television but blank to the world around him.
"What the hell, boy?! Are you serious right now?" Evan's anger is now palatable in the air.
Jaime replies tersely, "Are YOU serious right now?"
Evan, sleep deprived, frustrated with work, and hurt by the boy he rescued, reaches the breaking point of his immature patience. Evan gets off the couch and walks deliberately across the room to his duffle bag at the foot of the bed. With his back to Jaime, Evan says aloud, "Where the hell is my...ah yes..." and rummages through the bag.
"Aha! Okay, you want to be a bitch. I can make you a bitch." Evan thinks to himself.
Jaime eyes Evan nervously from the couch. Evan turns towards Jaime and their eyes meet. Evan's green eyes burn with anger and intently affix on Jaime's defiant gaze. Neither break eye contact. The air of the room takes on a metallic taste, a taste of adrenaline. Evan holds up two items, one in each hand. Jaime's eyes break quickly, snapping back and forth from Evan's hands to Evan's eyes.
Jaime sees in Evan's left hand a worn, black riding crop. In his right hand a well-used rubber ball gag, pock marked by teeth. "Get over here boy, NOW!" Evan barks at Jaime. Jaime hesitates, then slowly starts to rise. The boy then looks back at the television and sits down -- raising his head in defiance. Evan steps forward, throws the crop and gag on the couch, and lunges for the petulant boy. Trying to fend off Evan's grasp, Jaime sinks into the couch and raises his fists. Evan grapples for Jaime's arms.
"Mmmpphh, get off of me!" Jaime grunts.
"I told you to get over here, boy!" Evan growls in return.
Jaime grunts in response, "FUCK OFF!"
"I'm tired of your shit, boy. Fuck off huh? Yeah...I'll 'FUCK OFF' ALRIGHT. WHEN...YOU...ARE...SAFE...YOU...UNGRATEFUL...BI-"
In the scuffle to break free from Evan's grip, Jaime's right-hand escapes and careens against Evan's right eye. Slapping him - hard. Evan's face jolts to his left from the force of Jaime's contact. They stop struggling. Jaime frozen in fear, Evan frozen in outrage - his mind blank but for one objective.
Evan's pupils constrict, his eyes widen, his jaw clenches so hard his teeth slowly grind into each other. Jaime sees Evan turn his head slowly - painfully slowly towards him. He sees Evan's face move deliberately towards him. Nose to nose, Evan's eyes bore through Jaime. Evan breathes heavily, the putrid smell of old smoke wafts into Jaime's face.
Evan speaks slowly, imposingly, carefully, "Go ahead, BOY. Hit me again. I want to see how tough you think you are."
Jaime averts his eyes and remains terribly still, holding his breath in confusion.
"HIT.ME.AGAIN.BOY. What? I'm not good enough...for you... to hit... anymore?
Jaime squeaks out a whisper "Sir...I...I'm sorry...I just -"
Abruptly, Evan grabs the boy by his deep brown hair with such force that Jaime yips in pain. "SORRY, BOY?! YOU'RE SORRY?!" Evan bellows. Evan drags Jaime to the floor by his hair. The boy melts into the cheap carpet, his hands flailing into Evan's mechanical grip on his hair. Evan feels Jaime's nails digging into his hands, the flesh giving way to small claw marks of Jaime's desperate scratching. The pain brings a flood of endorphins to Evan. He feels them rush from his hand and up his body until it reaches his head. It snaps Evan from his delirious rage, bringing clarity to him. Evan hears the slight whimpers of the boy from the floor.
Evan says with a sigh, "You're right, boy. Fuck off I should." Still firmly gripping Jaime's hair.
"Are you a good boy?" Evan asks firmly.
Through broken whimpers and muffled tears Evan hears Jaime's frustrated voice eke out with all that the boy has left in his broken soul, "No...BUT I WANT TO BE! I NEED TO BE. I NEED YOU TO SHOW ME HOW TO BE...PLEASE! DEAR GOD PLEASE! JUST...FUCKING DO IT!"
There is a release of tension in the air. Evan knows the boy is lost. Grappling with unspeakable trauma in an unknown world. Too much for the boy to think about on his own. Too much for the boy to let go of so quickly. Evan thinks to himself, "This is why I'm here. Why was I such a coward?"
"Don't you dare move, boy. Don't you dare do anything without me allowing it. Understood boy?!" Evan commands the boy. Jaime, face burrowed into the scratchy carpet answers, "Y...yes...YES SIR". Evan straddles the boy's back, sitting on his shoulder blades and releases the boy's hair. Jaime's arms rest flatly on the floor above his head.
Evan strips his ragged undershirt from his torso. With surprising ease, Evan rips the shirt into four strips. His sweat drips from his chest onto the boy's back. Evan glances to his right and sees a pair of his dirty work socks crumpled under the couch. Evan reaches for them, being careful to remain planted on Jaime's back.
"Lace your fingers together, like a steeple, boy." Evan commands Jaime.
"Like what, Sir?" says Jaime.
Evan rolls his eyes and shifts his weight to the small of Jaime's back. He leans forward and pulls the lithe boy's arms behind him. Evan entwines the boy's fingers into a steeple and says, "Like this boy, you understand now?"
"Yes, Sir"
With two strips of torn shirt, Evan tightly binds the boy's wrists. He rolls up one sock into a ball and wedges it between Jaime's palms. The boy's wrists are straining against the cloth restraints. Evan takes the other sock and stretches it over Jaime's steepled fingers, creating a crude mitt. He takes the other two strips of shirt and binds the boy's ankles.
Evan needs to get to his bag across the room. He struggles a bit to reach the ball gag strewn on the couch and just manages to retrieve it. He lays down on top of Jaime and whispers into his left ear "Open up, boy." Jaime complies and feels his mouth stretch at the rubber ball pushing past his teeth, the straps of cheap leather grinding into the sides of his mouth and up his cheek. Evan pulls the frayed straps around the boy's head and firmly clasps the ball gag into place.
Evan growls, "I don't want to hear a peep out of you until I say so, understood boy!?"
Jaime nods excitedly.
Evan grabs the crop resting on the bed with his right hand. With his left-hand Evan grips the boy's head again, firmly but gently. "Boy, I'm going to guide you to my bag. You will walk with your knees and only your knees. You will do so quickly. Go, NOW!"
Confused, Jaime pauses for a moment - a moment too long. With a sharp whack, a blow from Evan's crop lands on the boy's ass. Jaime gives a startled yip. Evan speaks calmly, "I said move boy." Jaime begins to shuffle his knees awkwardly towards the bag, tiny shuffles of insecurity. Two more firm strikes of the crop come land against the boy's ass.
Against Evan's disciplining blows, Jaime whimpers and begins to scurry across the carpet towards the bag. His knees suffer from a friction burn as he moves faster across the floor. Evan is now delivering a steady stream of firm, painful hits against the boy's buttocks.
"Faster boy!" Evan commands repeatedly.
Evan counts the strikes that the boy suffered for his slowness to reach the bag -- 23 in all. Evan commands "Boy, bend over and rest your forehead against the carpet next to the bag."
Jaime complies. Evan lowers the thin underwear, exposing Jaime's slightly reddened ass.
"Do you know how many strikes I had to use to get over here boy?"
Jaime shakes his head "no".
"I see. What I do must not be important enough for you to pay attention to. You need to learn to focus, don't you boy?"
Jaime, meaning to convey that Evan - his Sir - is important to him shakes his head "no" against the carpet.
"Oh boy, you disagree? So you are focused, huh? Well let's see about that now."
Jaime shakes his head "no" furiously, trying to right the inadvertent slight he has given his Sir.
Evan starts to spank the boy with the crop. Evan knows he needs to control the blows and thinks to himself, "I'm teaching him a lesson, not abusing him." He raises his arm a foot above his boy's buttocks and lands blows in the same spot on each cheek. Alternating between them with each strike, 23 in total. Jaime is silently sobbing into the carpet. Drool runs from his mouth, around the ball gag, and onto the carpet. Evan sees a pool of spittle soaking into the carpet around Jaime's face.
"How many was that boy?" Evan asks.
Jaime, afraid to make a sound, remains silent. He is torn. If he remains silent, he is not answering his Sir's command. If he makes a noise, he is also disobeying his Sir. Evan relishes the tense few moments of his boy's confusion.
"More than 10, boy?"
Jaime nods "yes".
"More than 20, boy?"
Jaime nodes "yes".
"More than 30, boy?"
Jaime hesitates then slowly shakes his head "no".
"Sounds like you are unsure, boy. Let's repeat so you can be more confident."
Before the boy can react, Evan delivers another 23 alternating strokes to the cheeks of his boy's exposed ass. The pool of sweat, spit, and tears grows under Jaime. Evan is sweating from the effort of the lesson. The boy is drenched in a disgusting mix of sweat and shame.
After delivering 23 smacks of the crop, Evan moves Jaime back up to his knees and gently removes the ball gag from the boy's mouth. Evan moves in front of his boy, grabs the boy's hair, and looks into his boy's eyes.
"How many, boy?"
"23, Sir. Thank you, Sir."
Evan sees compliance and peace in Jaime's eyes. He gently fondles the sides of his boy's face. Evan lovingly says, "You are my boy now. I will take care of you, protect you, save you. You will do as I say. You will help me be your Sir. You will focus on me, boy. Understood?"
Jaime smiles and says admiringly, "Yes Sir. Thank you, Sir. I'm sorry Sir."
Evan smiles faintly back and studies his boy's body. Jaime's uncircumcised penis is fully erect. He sees a trail of cum across his boy's chest, along the carpet, ending in a dribble just under his cleft chin. "I see my boy needed this attention from me, didn't you boy?"
Jaime, blushing, replies, "Yes Sir. Please...don't stop...ever."
"Don't stop what boy?" Asks Evan, with an impish grin.
Jaime whispers, "Don't stop being my Sir. I need you, please."
Evan, holding his boy's face with his left hand, slaps the boy firmly with his right. "I can't stop now boy, you came without my telling you. You came before I came. You have to make up for that, boy."
"Show me how, Sir."
Looking at his boy, Evan fumbles for his cellphone. Glancing at the clock, he knows he must be at work in 2 hours. He dials a number on the keypad.
"Thank you for calling your friendly Jameson's grocery for all your grocery needs. This is Bill, how can I help you?"
"Bill, it's Evan, I can't come in today, something came up."
"Ah shoot man, is everything okay? We could really use ya here."
"I know, but someone really needs me right now."