Warning: BDSM scene
Facedown, pillows thrust under my hips, the wide blindfold ensuring
all light was shut out. Wrists and ankles shackled loosely to the
pillars of the four-poster bed. Heart thumping so hard I could feel
my pulse throb against the leather cuffs of the restraints.
Although the order for silence had already been given, a hushed
whimper of arousal escaped from somewhere deep in my throat. But
as long as no actual words escape, he allows a loose interpretation
of silence. He hadn't told me anything about the coming scene,
leaving me totally off-balance. The benefits of a long term play
relationship. He knows my limits better than I do. Master of the
mindfuck, he keeps me balanced on the edge of desire and dread.
Teetering on the brink, right where I want to be.
I felt the dip of the mattress as he settled on the bed next to me.
He didn't speak but I heard the small noises he made, amplified
by my apprehension. Incomprehensible noises. Finally identifying
the slosh of water in a bowl, possibilities raced through my mind.
Of him shaving me. Of him filling me with water. But then I heard
the strange scraping sounds. And suddenly the unmistakable scent of
fresh ginger reached me.
And I had thought that hand of ginger in the fridge meant stir-fry
This was something new. I had never experienced figging before but
one of my fellow subs had raved about its intense pleasures. I
listened keenly to the sounds of him peeling and carving the finger
of ginger. I wished that he would speak, the silent anticipation
killing me. But he didn't.
The mattress shifted again as he knelt between my spread legs and
gently parted my cheeks. I felt a cool wetness at my opening and my
muscles tensed. Slippery and cold, its rounded end pressed against
me insistently until its tapered shape was enveloped inside. I lay
shivering, feeling his eyes on me. Watching. And then slowly I
began to be aware of it. A subtle warmth that built and spread. It
was soon no longer simply warm, it stung and burned and I
couldn't keep my hips still. Now I understood why he bound me so
loosely. I writhed uncontrollably and gave up the first strangled
moan. I could feel his presence close to me; smell his own unique
scent of cigars and cologne. I heard his quickening breath and knew
he was savoring the show I was putting on against my will.
I jerked uselessly on the restraints, the thwarted desire to touch
myself making me growl in frustration. I settled for grinding my
hard cock against the pillow, too aroused to control myself.
"Don't come," he commanded, his tone deep and forbidding.
I managed to still my frantic writhing for only a second before I
had to move again. The burning sensation inside me demanded it and
it was beyond my power to stop. "Master, Master," I begged
hoarsely, although I wasn't sure what I was begging for.
"Silence." The paddle stroke fell across both of my
buttocks. The momentary shame I felt at the need for correction
barely flitted across my consciousness although my training had
progressed far beyond such a novice slip. But I couldn't stop
the moans, growing louder as the feeling that my ass was ablaze
inside grew too. He permitted these, knowing I was powerless to
The feeling of the individual strands of the flogger as it was
dragged across my back made me shudder. Then it was gone and I
panted in desperate hope. I heard the soft swish before I felt the
sting and warmth on my right cheek. He twirled the flogger expertly
and I felt the same on my left. Back and forth. Over and over as I
twisted and groaned with the tremendous heat that was building
inside and outside my bottom. I couldn't help but clench under
the assault of the flogger in his skilled hands and it only
intensified the fiery sensation inside. I had never been so turned
on, my cock leaking a veritable puddle of fluid under me. I wanted
to plead for release but my mind, overloaded with sensation, only
allowed me to wail incoherently.
He stilled his arm but I kept howling, the fire in my ass vying with
the flame of my scorched skin. A cool hand caressed a soothing path
down one trembling flank, then the other. But with the other hand
he twisted the knob of the ginger root, igniting the burn that was
starting to die down. I shouted, completely undone. Then I felt
the plug being slowly removed and I gasped in relief. The lube
quelled the burn and I welcomed his cool thickness inside me. His
hand reached under me, encircling my weeping erection. I was so
hard; it was flat against my belly. He stroked me in time to his
thrusts and I shouted again, this time as I came. I collapsed on
the bed, the weight of him on my back. I was dimly aware of him
withdrawing and then removing the blindfold and undoing the cuffs.
Released from the bondage, I was held by my own exhaustion now and I
lay still, drifting.
I could hear his voice, faint and far away. "Kyle,
sweetheart," he coaxed. "Come back now." And I did.
Eventually. I felt boneless and unbelievably heavy. We lay on the
bed, he'd rearranged the bedclothes and I was half on top of him,
head on his solid chest. I tried in vain to speak, incapable of
producing anything recognizable, my tongue thick and
uncooperative. "Good trip?" he asked gently, stroking my
face. I nodded. He let me return gradually, watching my eyes to
gauge my presence before he started to speak again. Asking what I
liked about the scene, if it was too intense. Holding me, feeling
close, feeling loved.
We had just finished showering when the phone rang. We always try
to schedule our play sessions when we have time together
afterwards. I feel especially submissive to him for a while and we
both revel in the special closeness. So I was a bit put out when
arrangements were made for his mother, unexpectedly in town, to join
us for dinner. Not that I didn't like his mother. I did
actually, very much but it was hard to switch gears so quickly.
"She's only here for tonight," Ben explained reasonably.
"I know, its fine," I agreed. It's difficult, hiding our
relationship for what it is at certain times. It takes a great
effort to screen every interaction for someone else, something I
didn't want to do right then.
Sensing my discomfort, he said, "Kyle, she knows what I am. You
don't have to worry about outing me."
"She knows about my lifestyle. That I'm a Dom."
I stared blankly at him in shock; selfishly my thoughts were for
myself. If she knew about him, then she sure as hell knew about
me. What I was. I would never be able to look at his mother again.
Forget what I wished about not needing to hide the nature of Ben and
my relationship. "You told her?" I hissed angrily.
"Calm down. I told her about myself. She had heard a rumor and
asked me point-blank about it. I wasn't going to lie to
her." It was said with a degree of wryness but also with a
certain relief. He was close to his mother and I could see how it
would be a relief to him, her knowing. Not having to pick and
choose what you said in case you gave away something unwittingly.
That he had her obvious acceptance made me burn with jealousy, I
could never make that admission and expect that from my own parents.
"Come here." He held out his hand and I went to where he was
sitting. Pulling me down beside him, he ran a hand down my stiff
back. "I'm not going to lie to you either. Yes, I'm sure
she's figured out what we are to each other but she's known
for quite some time, Kyle. Has she treated you any differently?"
"No,' I admitted grudgingly. It still made me feel uneasy.
A person in the community knowing was completely different. They
didn't make the assumptions that `vanilla' people fell
into and there I was proud to be his boy, free from misunderstanding
about what that meant. While he assured me he hadn't divulged
anything about us, I couldn't help but wonder what his mother
thought of me, now that she knew.
She was as lovely and warm as ever, giving me her usual hug and kiss
when she arrived. But with my own insecurities set free, I
couldn't shake the suspicion that she thought less of me. His
mother was an important person to both of us and her good opinion
meant a great deal to me. The idea of losing her respect frightened
me, I guess. So much that I stopped thinking rationally. Stopped
thinking at all.
When I went to the well-stocked bar in our living room and poured us
all a liberal drink, I'm sure Ben thought I was being
deliberately defiant. Well, what else could he think? I had
actually picked a meaningless way to assert my independence from him
if I was trying to disprove Gwen's supposed assumptions. After
all, she didn't even know about Ben's edict on alcohol. I
had just grasped onto the first thing that crossed my mind. And old
habits die hard; a drink was my first defense against any kind of
"Here you are, Gwen," I said, handing her a large scotch,
neat. "Bottoms up." Bottoms up all right, if I read
Ben's look correctly. But he didn't say a word, just
accepted his glass with a quiet thanks. He could read me too and I
think he knew that even the mildest reproach from him at that point
would have prompted a full-scale argument.
Every topic discussed, I took a passionate opposing opinion to his
until his mother finally remarked, "I had no idea you were so
conservative in your views, Kyle."
I had to stop and think about what crap I'd actually been
spouting. I think I'd essentially declared my support for capital
punishment, a moratorium on gun control and rescinding abortion
rights. She was going to think I'd lost my mind. Or worse,
joined the Alliance party.
"Would you like another drink, Gwen?" I asked to cover my
"Oh, no thank you dear," she laughed. "I won't make
it through dinner if I have another one of those."
I didn't even bother offering one to Ben; I just walked over to
the bottle of scotch and poured myself a tumbler full. He shook his
head, his glinting eyes silently warning me not to drink it but I
ignored him, gulping down the strong alcohol. When he tried to
discreetly take my arm and shepherd me into the kitchen, I shook him
off. So he shrugged and I could see him mentally sitting back and
seeing where this was going. He pointedly didn't fill my wine
glass at dinner and I wisely didn't escalate the situation by
demanding it. Dinner was awful though, my good sense having already
drowned in the scotch and every time Ben opened his mouth I snapped
back a smart reply.
I finally looked at them both properly; his mother wore an
expression of anxious confusion and although Ben's mirrored hers
to a certain degree, his simmered with an underlying anger. Looking
at Gwen's bewildered face I abruptly remembered how unbelievably
kind she was. She'd never treated me with anything but kindness
and I was ashamed that I would have forgotten that.
All of a sudden I couldn't stomach my own self and all I could
think was to escape from my shame. I stood up and announced that I
was going for a walk. I knew I had a slim chance of actually making
it out the door. It was one thing for Ben to sit back and let me
embarrass myself but he would intervene before I did anything too
stupid. But Gwen spoke first.
"Oh please dear, I hardly ever get to visit with you anymore.
Stay and have coffee with me instead."
My eyes filled, I was quite sure she'd had enough of my company.
She just didn't want me to wander the streets, potentially
offending strangers who might not be as tolerant. I stammered out
an excuse that I wasn't feeling well and I was going to lie down
for a bit and stumbled up the stairs. In our room I flopped down on
the bed and cried, great drunken sobs.
"All right, sweetheart, all right." I felt the large warm
hand rub my shaking back a few moments later.
"Tell her I'm sorry," I sobbed into the pillow.
He manhandled me out of my clothes and I fell quickly asleep, thanks
to the effects of the alcohol. I'd lost my tolerance since my
drinking had been curtailed lately and I was at the best of times, a
I woke, thirsty and groggy, after a while. I went to the adjoining
bathroom to get a drink and wash my face. I couldn't bear to
look in the mirror. I felt like such a fool. Trying to prove I
wasn't less of a man, being a submissive, I'd only proved
that I was an idiot.
I pulled on some jeans and a t-shirt and then listened at the door,
trying to hear if Gwen was still in the house. It was quiet so I
ventured out. The issue of punishment due rumbled somewhere deep in
the back of my mind but I was far more concerned about making
amends, both to Ben and his mother.
He was in the living room, reading. I knelt just inside the
doorway, head down, hands laced behind my back, silently waiting for
his acknowledgement. He let me wait for a while, a good twenty
minutes until I was starting to get uncomfortable holding my
position. My conscience was giving me a lot more grief than my
"Here." He gestured to the carpet beside where he was sitting
and I shuffled over to him. "Explain what that was all
I could hear the hurt in his voice. I didn't blame him. I knew,
without a doubt, that he'd never betray my trust. That he'd
never obviously correct my behavior in front of his mother. I
trusted him not to shame me by exposing something she wouldn't
understand. I had betrayed his trust in me by testing him that way,
trust to behave like a loving partner. And I had betrayed our
relationship by disrespecting him.
"Please. I just …. I didn't want her to think…."
The tears leaked down my cheeks, my head bowed in disgrace.
"Didn't want her to think what? That you loved me? Respected
"Nooo," I wailed and leaned my head against his knee,
sobbing. "I didn't want her to think I was weak."
He sighed sadly and his fingers rubbed the back of my neck. "Oh,
Kyle, why would she think that?"
I didn't answer; preoccupied with trying not to choke on more
"Are you ashamed of our relationship, Kyle? Of being a
"No," I protested, indignation replacing remorse. "But
she's vanilla for God's sake, Ben. That's what she's
going to think. I needed to make her see…." I trailed off;
the only thing I'd made her see was that I couldn't handle my
"Kyle Robinson," he said, with a trace of humor in his voice.
"You prejudiced little boy. Just because someone isn't
involved in the lifestyle doesn't mean they can't understand.
My mother has known and loved you for more than a year. The only
thing she cares about is that you're a kind, loving man that
makes her son happy. The details of our relationship are none of her
business and she couldn't care less about them."
Well, that startled me. The thought that I was the bigoted one. I
had assumed Gwen would judge me and find me lacking based on my
experiences with my own mother, who recoiled in horror when she
caught the faintest glimmer of that aspect of me. That I had never
experienced acceptance outside of the community didn't mean it
didn't exist. There was such little opportunity for it though,
that part of you was carefully hidden until you knew it was a shared
bond. It was a secret club that bound you to silence because you
were included. You couldn't reveal another without revealing
"The hairbrush, Kyle. Go and get it."
"Yes, sir," I said readily enough and scrambled to my feet
when he took my arm and lifted me. The hurt was gone from his voice
now, Thank God, but he sounded pretty grim.
When I got to the bedroom and was unearthing the hated thing, I
wasn't in such a hurry. Well, I wanted the absolution all right
but I absolutely didn't want the spanking that preceded it. I
tormented myself a little more, waiting instead of going directly
back to Ben. I finally gathered my courage, not wanting the
indignity of him having to come for me and I went slowly down the
I handed him the wooden brush and watched, my stomach rolling, as he
turned up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing his well-developed
"The rule about only being allowed a drink from my hand still
stands. Which you knew very well. If we have to repeat this lesson
again, Kyle it will be with the strap. And you have every right to
voice your own opinion as long as it IS your opinion, not something
used as a way to disrespect me."
I nodded vigorously at his stern scolding, taking his warning
seriously. I was expecting a thorough spanking and when he removed
my jeans and shorts completely it only heightened my expectations.
Once I was settled over his lap, he picked up the hairbrush and said
firmly, "Just because I won't react in front of an audience,
Kyle doesn't mean you can manipulate me. I won't cheapen our
relationship by making a private aspect of it public but you will
not like the consequences when they catch up to you. And trust me,
And they did. He spanked me hard and I felt his disapproval in
every stroke of the hairbrush. I was a very sore and regretful sub
when I was finally allowed to slide off his knee. He let me sob out
some more apologies into his leg as I knelt as his feet before he
took me into his arms to finish comforting me. When I'd finally
stopped crying I asked plaintively if I could call his mother to
"Tomorrow, sweetheart," he assured me, kissing my
tear-stained cheek. "It's too late now, you'll wake
Ah, it was going to be hard to sleep on my guilt. Or my back. My
ass felt absolutely blistered, although I knew it wasn't.
Despite my earlier nap, I was exhausted and was happy to lie in bed
while Ben got himself ready.
Prostrate, my reddened bottom still throwing off a considerable
amount of heat, I gave him a look of mute appeal when he got into
bed beside me. I felt miserable and anxious, knowing I hadn't
made things right with Gwen. He picked up the latest Economist from
his bedside table and leafed through it leisurely, looking for the
most boring article. "Did you know, Kyle that goats are the
fastest-growing sement in agriculture?" He began to read, his rich
baritone voice rising and falling gently, lulling me to sleep.