Implement: Hand, Hairbrush
Kyle looked into the mirror, wincing at the definite anxiety on the face reflected there. Taking a deep breath, he made a determined effort to dismiss the niggling feeling of apprehension, knowing it had no basis in reality. It was, after all, only a party . . . at Greg’s house. Given the last two occasions though, it seemed like a certain harbinger of doom. He adjusted the slender leather collar around his neck for the tenth time, its presence reassuring him. At least there would be no unwanted propositions to deal with tonight. And no alcohol except what Ben chose to give him. What could go wrong? he thought, trying to stir his optimism.
The smiling face of his Dom appeared in the mirror, startling Kyle. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said. “You look great.” He slipped his strong arms around his partner’s waist and bent to nuzzle his neck. The collar slipped awry and Kyle pulled away from Ben’s embrace to realign it, giving a small huff of annoyance.
“Kyle?” asked Ben, his deep voice edged with warning. “You aren’t getting yourself worked up again, are you?”
“No!” said Kyle emphatically, flushing at the reminder of his bad temper at dinner. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”
“Good,” said Ben shortly. “Because if there’s any more dramatics we’ll be staying home.”
“There won’t be,” promised Kyle, taking a moment to flick his eyes appreciatively over his Dom, decked out in black leather pants and a dark shirt.
Ben’s brow furrowed with concern, “Are you sure you want to go tonight?”
“Yes,” he insisted. “I really want to go.”
“Okay, but we can always leave if you’re not having a good time,” Ben assured him, understanding that his partner might be uncomfortable after what happened at the last party.
Kyle nodded, resigned to the fact that Ben would be keeping a careful watch on him tonight. Once there, knowing they wouldn’t be playing at the party, Ben had gone to the bar and returned to place a beer in Kyle’s hand. The large house was crowded with men of all shapes and sizes and all variations of submission and dominance. The lower floor had been converted to a play area, expanding Greg’s dungeon space. It was outfitted with several crosses and two slings were suspended from the ceiling, implements of every type lining the walls. Weaving his way through the throng, Kyle found himself outside on the stone terrace overlooking the river. He wasn’t actively hiding from Ben’s watchful eye; he rationalized as he downed his drink in one long pull, just…taking a break from the noise. Breathing deeply, he enjoyed the peace of the deserted patio. But as his eyes gradually adjusted to the dim light he saw the shape of another man outlined in the dusk.
“Hello,” said Kyle hesitantly. The clasp of other man’s collar could be seen, gleaming slightly in the faint light, declaring him as someone’s slave or submissive.
“Kyle?” asked other man, coming closer. “Hey, it’s me. Luke.”
“Luke!” exclaimed Kyle happily, as he recognized the other man. A friend and fellow submissive, Kyle often saw him at The Detour, the S&M club that he and Ben frequented.
The two young men sat down on a bench to talk. Noticing that Kyle’s beer was empty, Luke offered to get another at the bar. Glad it was too dark to see his face flush, Kyle politely refused. Shrugging, Luke reached into his pocket to pull out a small bag. “This is a lot better anyway.”
“What’s that?” asked Kyle uneasily. Greg frowned on drug use; if he knew Luke had drugs in his home he’d be very unhappy. And he wondered privately what Luke’s Dom, James, thought of him doing drugs.
“It’s just hash,” soothed Luke. “It’s practically legal now anyway. Besides you look uptight tonight, my friend. A couple of puffs and you’ll feel much better.”
Looking around furtively, Kyle shook his head, confessing, “I’ve never done hash.” In fact, he’d never done anything, although he wasn’t going to admit that to Luke. Growing up, his life had been carefully sheltered by his parents and when he’d escaped to University, where drugs were accessible, he’d been consumed with the need to study, there was no time for experimenting with drugs or other frivolous pastimes. His submissive nature had contributed to his always being a ‘good boy’ as well and staying well within the letter of the law. While he’d done his fair share of drinking, he had never felt the desire strongly enough to actually try drugs. Tonight though, he found the idea strangely compelling.
“It’s just like having a drink,” coaxed Luke, taking out a small pipe and filling it with some of the contents of the bag. “It just relaxes you a bit.”
Kyle watched closely as Luke stuck the end of the pipe in his mouth and held a lit match to the bowl, his cheeks sinking as he drew deeply. Finally he exhaled with a small sigh of pleasure and held out the pipe. “Your turn.”
“No,” said Kyle hastily, waving away the hash pipe and temptation. “Ben would kill me.”
“Ben will never know,” countered Luke patiently. “We’re outside; he’s not going to smell it. A couple of puffs then have another drink, I do it all the time and James never knows.”
Luke made it sound totally innocuous. An uncharacteristic surge of rebellion rising in him, Kyle reached out with a shaking hand, to take the pipe from Luke. “What do you do?” he asked stiffly.
“Just put it in your mouth and inhale,” instructed Luke. He watched Kyle make a fumbling effort. “Look, I’m going to get another drink. I’ll be right back.”
Frustrated with his difficulty, Kyle drew harder on the pipe. He knew he was doing something wrong because he felt absolutely no different than before. So much for getting a buzz, Kyle scoffed. Luke had an overactive imagination if he thought hash made you feel less anxious. Scowling, he continued to draw determinedly on the pipe, wondering what everyone made such a fuss over drugs for.
“Sorry,” Luke apologized when he returned 20 minutes later. “I got waylaid in the kitchen. Here, have a beer.” Holding out a cold bottle to his friend, he peered closely at him. “Kyle?” he asked quietly. “Are you all right?”
Kyle nodded dumbly, his attention focused on the bottle held in front of him but he didn’t reach out to take it.
“Oh My God,” gasped Luke, taking in his friend’s lack of reaction. “How much did you smoke?” He set down the bottle and reached out, taking the now empty pipe from Kyle’s limp fingers. “Kyle!” he wailed in dismay. “You idiot, you smoked the whole bowl.” He squatted down in front of the other young man, anxiously searching his face to determine how far gone he was. “Kyle? Talk to me,” he begged. “How do you feel?’
“Wow,” whispered Kyle in awe. Focusing on the logo on Luke’s shirt, he reached out to touch it gingerly. “Wow.”
“Oh. My. God,” said Luke again, horrified. “You are wasted. I can’t let Ben see you like this.” Looking around he spotted a lounge chair on the far side of the terrace. “Come on, lie down. You’ll feel better in a few minutes,” he hoped fervently. He led the compliant Kyle to the reclining chair and settled him down. Gazing up at the stars, Kyle gave another awed, “Wow” before lapsing into mesmerized silence.
Pacing, Luke’s panicked mind raced. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the half-full bag of hash. Going to the edge of the terrace, he opened the small plastic bag and let it empty into the gently blowing wind. Then he placed the pipe on the stone floor, ground it underneath his heel and threw the remains out into the bushes. If he could keep Kyle hidden long enough for the worst of the effects of the drug to wear off, everything would be all right. The desire to ever see hash any time soon disappeared.
The thought of James finding out about his occasional drug use made him swallow hard, his concern for Kyle’s butt turning to concern for his own.
“Kyle?” Ben’s deep voice reached Luke out on the terrace a moment before he appeared at the French doors leading outside. Recognizing the young sub, he asked fairly anxiously, “Oh hello, Luke. Have you seen Kyle? I seem to have lost him.”
His heart thudding in his chest, Luke squeaked out a reply, “Kyle?” His tone implying he’d never met the man. “No, haven’t seen him.”
“Okay, thanks,” said Ben, stepping aside as the young man slipped by him to go inside the house. The sound of a very soft ‘Wow’ reached his ear and recognizing the familiar voice he stopped in his tracks. Looking around the poorly lit patio, he spotted the figure huddled on the chaise. Annoyed, he strode over to peer down at his partner. “Kyle,” he scolded. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Why didn’t you answer me?”
Turning unfocused eyes towards his Dom, Kyle frowned at the unpleasant interruption of his contemplation of the stars. “Yeah, well. I’m ….” Not sure at all what he was doing he gave an incongruous giggle and looked back towards the sky, waving a dismissive hand at his partner.
“Kyle?” asked Ben alarmed. “How much have you had to drink?” He reached down and lifted his sub’s chin, studying his face as best he could in the weak light.
A vague recollection of a limit prompted Kyle to answer smugly, “One.”
“Ben?” came another deep voice in the night. “Did you find him?” They were joined a moment later by the imposing figure of Greg.
“Yes,” Ben replied grimly. “I’m taking him home. I think he’s had too much to drink.” The word ‘again’ was unsaid but hung clearly in the air.
“I didn’t,” denied Kyle, struggling to a sitting position. Bursting into another giggle, he covered his mouth with his hand, the realization it wasn’t appropriate vied with the undeniable urge to laugh. A look of confusion crossed his face at his inability to control himself as he was hit by a paroxysm of giggles.
Greg moved closer to take Kyle’s chin in his own hand, turning the young man’s face to catch the light streaming from the open door. Taking in the red, glassy eyes, he said wryly, “He’s not drunk. He’s high.”
“High!” exclaimed Ben, genuinely shocked. “Kyle! What did you take?”
The distinct impression that his partner was unhappy with him penetrated Kyle’s fog and he felt the pressure behind his eyes that heralded the start of tears. Instead of crying though, he gave another nervous laugh and quickly clapped his hand over his mouth again to stifle it. He was appalled at his own laughter, given Ben’s obvious displeasure, but he had no control over it.
“Boy!” asked Greg sharply. “What did you take?” He knew this young man wasn’t a regular drug user and mistakes happened, especially to the inexperienced.
The brusque tone did Kyle in and he started to cry, alternating apologies and sobs, his pleasant high disappearing as quickly as a popped soap bubble. Ben sat down on the lounge chair beside him and took his distraught partner into his arms, trying in vain to quiet him.
When he still didn’t answer under his partner’s gentler questioning, Ben turned him and swatted him twice, hard, on his hip. The sharp sting was enough to break through Kyle’s hysterics and he blurted out that he’d smoked hash.
Both men breathed a sigh of relief, in the scheme of things; hash was a relatively benign drug.
“Kyle,” said Ben firmly, raising his voice to be heard over his partner’s sobs. “Stop crying. Right now.”
Kyle took a gulping breath and tried but it was impossible to stem the flowing tears.
“What on earth made you smoke hash?” Ben demanded, knowing his partner had never smoked anything stronger than a cigar.
“I don’t know,” sniffed Kyle. “He said it was relaxing.”
Ben restrained himself about making any derisive comments about how well it had worked. “Who said?” he demanded sternly.
Shaking his head hard, Kyle refused to answer. Even when Greg added his demands to know, he still stubbornly shook his head.
“I saw Luke out here when I was looking for Kyle. He was acting a bit odd.”
Greg nodded curtly and said, “I’ll go find James.”
When Greg had left, Ben spoke firmly to his tearful sub, “After you apologize, we’re going home.”
“Yes, sir,” agreed Kyle, hiccupping. “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect to feel like this. He said it was practically legal.”
Ben winced at his sub’s trusting nature. “Something is legal or it isn’t, Kyle. And you know very well how I feel about drugs.”
It was all too much for Kyle in his state, and he dropped his head into his hands and sobbed. Ben sighed and rubbed his back comfortingly. He was finally subsiding when Greg returned to announce when confronted, Luke had promptly confessed that it was his hash and that James was taking him home.
In deep disgrace himself Kyle spared a moment of sympathy for his fellow sub, hoping that Luke knew he hadn’t told.
“Kyle?” said Ben meaningfully.
Standing up unsteadily, Kyle said to Greg, “I’m very sorry, sir.”
Greg asked softly. “So am I, little one. You seem to have a problem with parties at my house. Or perhaps it’s me you have the problem with?”
Kyle flushed and dropped his head but not before Ben saw the flash of anger in his eyes.
“I’ll add my apologies,” said Ben, going to hug his friend goodbye but keeping his eye on his young partner. Again, he saw Kyle’s face darken with unmistakable jealousy as he watched the two men embrace.
With far more understanding of Kyle’s behavior, he put his arm around his miserable sub and led him to the door. Having quit crying, Kyle lapsed into silence on the way home and Ben joined him, preoccupied by his own thoughts. Too worn out to discuss anything, Kyle was put to bed as soon as they arrived home to sleep off the rest of the effects of the drug.
Kyle woke in his usual position, plastered to Ben’s side, limbs entwined and slowly the events of last night flooded back. He tried to extricate himself from Ben’s arms without waking him but his partner’s eyelashes fluttered open and he was caught in that unyielding gaze, pinning him in place.
“Good morning,” said Ben softly. “How do you feel?”
“I’m fine,” whispered Kyle, accepting that there was no use in pretending last night never happened. “I’m sorry, sir.”
Stroking his hand down the slender back, Ben let it rest on his sub’s bare bottom. “Before we discuss last night, I want you to tell me how you feel about Greg and my relationship.”
Kyle squirmed anxiously under that heavy hand, knowing Ben expected an honest answer. Instead he said sadly, “I don’t think he likes me.”
“That’s not what I asked, boy,” corrected Ben. He studied the other man for a moment before asking, “Is that what you’re hoping? That if you keep behaving badly Greg really will dislike you and advise me to break off our relationship? Then I’d have to choose between continuing our relationship and the one with him.”
“No,” protested Kyle angrily, trying to struggle free from Ben’s embrace. A sharp warning swat made him still his resistance and he lay quiet, breathing heavily.
“Maybe not consciously,” clarified Ben. “But I have never known you to take drugs, and you’ve had lots of opportunities, or to provoke a fight, both of which you have done at Greg’s house. You are trying to tell me something.”
“I don’t like him touching you,” admitted Kyle finally, fighting back tears.
“How do you mean, touching me?” Ben let his hand rub soothingly over Kyle’s bottom.
“When you play.” It seemed very disrespectful to be voicing these thoughts and Kyle burrowed into Ben’s chest, hiding his face.
“Kyle?” Ben asked, holding him reassuringly tight. “You do know that Greg and I don’t play. He is my mentor, my teacher, nothing more. He demonstrates implements and techniques on me; I practice on him so I can play safely with you. We are both dominant, neither of us submits to the other the way you submit to me. He is not my partner or my lover.”
“I’m sorry,” moaned Kyle. “I do know that. I don’t know how to stop feeling this way.”
“It is very easy for jealousy and possessiveness to tear apart a relationship like ours,” Ben said seriously. “There are a lot of intense feelings and it can be difficult to share, either your Dom or your sub, with anyone else, no matter how innocent the relationship. I am not going to let that happen to us, Kyle. Breaking off my friendship with Greg is not going to solve anything.”
Feeling Kyle’s reluctant nod, Ben asked, “Would you like to come with me, the next time Greg and I meet?”
Kyle lifted his head off Ben’s chest and look at him in surprise, “You’d let me?”
“Yes, as long as Greg agrees. There is nothing to hide.”
The two men lay quietly for a few moments, Kyle mulling over Ben’s words, finally beginning to let go of some of his jealous feelings around the two men’s relationship.
“Go and shower, Kyle. We’ll finish our discussion after breakfast.”
“But,” protested Kyle, clinging tighter. “We don’t actually have anything else to discuss, right? It was all a mistake, because I didn’t understand, about you and Greg.”
“You could have talked to me anytime about how you were feeling. And doing drugs, whatever your motivation was, is not acceptable. Which you know very well.”
“Yes, sir,” said Kyle, resisting the urge to debate the legality of hash. He peeled himself off his partner to grudgingly get out of bed, staying in the shower until Ben knocked on the door. At breakfast, every time Ben rustled the morning newspaper, Kyle’s heart jumped in anticipation and by the time he folded it and put it aside, he was almost relieved.
“Go and get the hairbrush and meet me in the living room,” instructed Ben.
When he returned, his Dom pointed to the floor and Kyle sank to his knees in front of him. Placing the hairbrush in Kyle’s clasped hands, he ordered simply, “I want you to think about trust.” Then he retreated to the kitchen, where Kyle could here him, making another pot of coffee.
It was the worst punishment in the world to Kyle; the emotional distance from Ben, coupled with the reality of the hard wood held in his hand focused his thoughts completely on what he’d done wrong. That he hadn’t trusted his partner fully and let his jealousy run unchecked made his stomach twist with guilt. It seemed an eternity before Ben returned to take the implement from his trembling hands.
Kyle bent forwards, letting his forehead touch the ground, “I’m sorry, sir.”
Crouching beside his penitent sub, Ben rested his large hand on the bowed head. “Get up.”
Kyle struggled to his feet, his chest heaving with suppressed sobs and waited.
Ben took his hand and led him to the couch, quickly unbuckling and pulling down his jeans and shorts. Drawing him over his lap, he said sternly, “I will not allow you to harm yourself in any way. Taking drugs is unacceptable.”
“Yes, sir,” answered Kyle, his answer muffled against his forearm.
“Give me your hand,” instructed Ben calmly.
Obediently, Kyle twisted his arm behind his back and felt his partner pin it to his side. Knowing the spanking was going to be hard and fast, he steeled himself to endure it stoically.
There was no warm up with Ben’s hand and the brush stung terribly when it connected with the underside of his bottom. All thought of enduring in stoic silence fled after the first few blows. There was just time for the impact of one swat to register before another was laid and Kyle couldn’t help but cry out, the burning sensation overwhelming. It took only a few minutes of determined spanking for Kyle’s bottom to reach a sufficient level of heat and color for Ben to stop.
Kyle lay crying, helpless to control the deep sobs that shook his body. Gently, Ben rubbed his hand over the backs of his thighs, below his scorched bottom. “I’m sorry,” Kyle pleaded and Ben pulled him up to lie in his arms, his hips twisting to prevent any weight on his sore backside. He kicked off his jeans and underwear completely, leaving him bare below the waist.
Ben didn’t try to silence the sobs of the crying man he held, knowing the relief in the flowing tears. He bent occasionally to whisper words of comfort into Kyle’s ear and to drop kisses on his wet cheek. Eventually the sobs died away and Kyle lay quietly against him, exhausted but calm.
Speaking quietly but firmly, Ben said, “You are mine and I am yours, nothing can change that.”
His bottom still on fire, Kyle felt very much Ben’s and he said fervently, “Yes, sir.”