I sat on the beach looking out over the crashing waves, keeping a close eye on the man that swam amongst them. He was mine and my attention didn’t waver from his nude body. His lithe shape leapt and turned, dodging the worst of the power of the pounding surf. Occasionally someone would wander past, both male and female passerby’s eyes drawn to admire the beautiful young man in the water and I would feel a hot glow of mingled possessiveness and pride.
He stood and waved to me, waiting for me to return the gesture. He knew he was in the water only with my reluctant permission. A yellow flag, stuck in the sand, had warned of the ocean’s turbulence today but I had agreed when he asked to swim. I watched though, carefully judging the danger of the churning water, ready to call him out if it worsened. He finally grew tired of battling the waves and ran up to join me on the soft sand. Standing over me, cold water dripped from him and I gasped as it trickled onto my sun-warmed skin. He laughed and shook himself like a dog, spraying me with droplets. I wrapped a hand around his wrist and pulled him down beside me, savoring his small gasp of surprise when I rolled him onto his back and pinned him on the ground.
The exclusive resort was the only tenant of the island and held few guests, a mix of gay and straight couples. And with miles of white sand beaches stretching in both directions it was mercifully peaceful. I still glanced around to make sure we were alone before I growled, “Is that any way to treat your master?”
Kyle wiggled in the sand underneath me, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a soft laugh at the over-the-top threat in my voice.
“No, Sir,” he answered with just enough mockery in his own voice to ensure I’d continue the game.
“I think,” I rumbled into his ear. “That you, my sassy boy, need a lesson in respect.”
“Yes, Sir,” he agreed, lowering his eyes remorsefully enough but his cheeky grin on his face belied any true contrition.
“Later,” I assured him and his grin widened at the promise. I shifted onto my side, holding his chilled body against mine and we lay there for a while, until his breathing had slowed and he’d warmed.
I sat up and reached for my trunks; virtually everyone shed their suits as soon as they were away from the main resort and dressed when they returned. I nudged Kyle, drowsy from the heat and his swim. “Come on, we’ve had enough sun for today.”
He muttered something that could have been agreement but he rolled over onto his front, nestling more firmly into the sand. From his neck to his toes he was a uniform, golden brown from the week we’d already spent in the sun. Not a mark marred his skin and I ran a hand down his back to rest on his tanned bottom. I patted it lightly, a gentle warning to listen. “Time to go.”
He sighed and reluctantly sat up. I tossed him his swimming trunks and shirt that he’d abandoned on the beach and watched as he put them on. The vacation had been just what we both needed and Kyle looked happy and relaxed.
When we reached our villa, we showered and dressed for dinner. I had plans for later and when Kyle glanced inquiringly at the bar on the way to the restaurant I shook my head and he accepted gracefully.
I’d relied on a friend’s recommendation in choosing the resort and I hadn’t been disappointed. It was a quiet place with no distractions and most importantly our separate small house on the property ensured our privacy. In the villa I undressed him and gestured for him to kneel on the floor. While I stripped down to my pants he started to settle into sub space. When we traveled we didn’t bring along many toys, too many questions to answer in security. But it was unnecessary. Kyle loved the challenge of mental bondage anyway, often preferring it to actual restraints. It was a greater proof of his submission to hold position willingly as we played.
I placed a straight-backed chair in the center of the room and motioned Kyle to me. Gently pushing on his back, I bent him over and placed his hands on the seat and said, “Don’t move.” He wouldn’t break position and end play if he could possibly help it. I stroked my hand over the swell of his bottom, letting my fingers trail down the back of his toned thighs and was rewarded with a shiver of excitement. I undid my belt, letting him hear the jingle of the buckle and the soft hiss as I pulled it through my belt loops. He gave another shiver, his body jerking in anticipation of the play to come.
The belt was light; it would sting but not bruise. A special treat for Kyle, it wasn’t something we used very often. I wrapped it several times around my hand and began a mild strapping. As Kyle’s skin reddened under my careful attention he began to moan. I stopped and he hung his head, breathing heavily. I reached between his spread legs to grasp his balls, gently tugging on the skin of his scrotum. In play, pain and sex were intertwined for him and he was already fully erect but I ignored his cock for the time being.
I began again, flicking the end of the belt down progressively harder as his skin warmed and he was able to tolerate more. His hips started to sway involuntarily and as the cracks of the belt grew louder so did his moans. Throughout his grip on the seat remained although his knuckles were white with the effort in keeping his hands there. He was panting when I stopped this time, his breaths coming in short, irregular gasps. When I reached in front of him I placed my hand loosely around his swollen cock and he thrust helplessly into my grip, “Please,” he groaned.
I didn’t answer, just removed my hand which prompted a hiss of disappointment from him. He shifted from one foot to the other, displaying his frustration in the only way available to him.
I stepped back, letting out more of the length of the belt and snapped it down on his scarlet cheeks. He lowered his head further, almost to the seat of the chair but he didn’t let go, clutching so hard his arms shook. When I stopped his whole body was trembling and I stroked his sweating back for a minute, letting him fly. I dropped the belt on the bed and picked up the bottle of lube. Moving behind him I squeezed some onto my fingers and tapped the inside of his legs with my foot and obediently he moved them farther apart. His head was still down and he was still breathing hard but he raised his ass up farther, wanting my touch. I traced his cleft and pushed my finger into his opening, Kyle automatically softening to the expected intrusion. I pressed deeper into him, finding his small gland to stroke and I felt him tighten his muscles. He began to rock, impaling himself on my finger. His head swung from side to side as he begged me to allow him his release. But his hands remained, glued to the chair exactly where I’d placed them. I added another finger and grasped his cock, already slick with fluid, and pumped him firmly. He came within seconds, shooting onto the wooden seat as his ass contracted around my fingers. I withdrew as he slumped onto his knees, his head resting on the edge of the chair’s seat, his fingers still locked in a death grip. I touched the back of his hands, releasing him from the bondage.
I let him rest there for a few moments as I cleaned up, returning to stroke his hair occasionally as he came back to me. He turned, still on his knees and nuzzled my groin with his mouth. And then he sat back on his heels, waiting for permission before he made the next move. I nodded to him and his hands went to my zipper, undoing it and pulling my pants down to mid-thigh. Kyle mouthed me through the thin cloth of my shorts; I could feel the heat of his breath and the wetness of his tongue on me. I carded my fingers roughly through his hair and it was my turn to moan in pleasure. He reached up to take hold of my balls through the soft material, twisting and tugging at them as he continued to trace the shaft of my cock with his mouth.
“Harder,” I rasped and he tightened his grip on my balls, pulling at them hard. I groaned my appreciation and he touched the waistband of my underwear, looking at me for permission again. I nodded and he pulled them down to join my pants. Now he took me fully into his mouth, opening his throat to take me even deeper. He sucked me expertly and my hands on his head controlled his movements. I thrust forcefully into his mouth and his hands on my hips encouraged me, pulling me forward towards him. I came quickly, it was impossible to prolong it and Kyle pulled away a little to swallow. As soon as I caught my breath I bent down to kiss him, tasting myself on his tongue.
It was enough for both of us; we were tired and fell asleep as soon as we were in bed. In the early morning I was aware of Kyle untangling himself from my arms and sliding from the bed. That was usual; he liked to run before it got too hot and I rolled over and went back to sleep.
I heard him come back some time later and I propped myself up on one elbow to see the clock. It was later than I would have expected and I sat up in bed to look at him more closely. I’m always conscious of Kyle on some level when he’s near me and I sensed his unhappiness. “Good run?” I asked.
He shrugged indecisively and when I held out a hand to him, he ignored it. “I need to shower,” he said.
“Okay,” I agreed. I wasn’t surprised by his unsettled attitude. It was our last full day of our vacation today and we’d be leaving first thing the next morning. The fact that we’d had a wonderful time in some ways made it harder for Kyle to accept that we had to return to ‘normal’ life.
It was a struggle to coax any conversation out of him over breakfast. Both Kyle and my work required a lot of our attention and I understood why he would start to withdraw from me today, preparing himself for the distance to come. It saddened me, but I understood it.
We dressed in our suits and wandered far down the beach, far enough away that we could be guaranteed that we would spend the day completely alone. I’d requested a picnic and the resort had packed us a generous basket of food and several bottles of wine. As we walked I could see that the surf was even rougher than the day before, the waves huge and dangerous. The flag in front of the resort had been red today, warning everyone to stay out of the water. Spreading our blanket in a spot under several palm trees, well away from the spray of the ocean, we spent the morning reading and relaxing in the sun.
Kyle closed his book and laid it aside with a satisfied sigh.
“Finished?” I asked. I’d been waiting, rather impatiently I admit, for him to reach the end of the novel. I’d read it myself several months ago and was anxious to discuss it, which he well knew.
He smiled and folded his arms above his head, closing his eyes; he pretended to go to sleep.
I laughed and reached out to tweak a nipple, eliciting a squeak of surprise from Kyle. “Brat,” I said. “Sit up and talk to me.”
His low mood seemed to have disappeared and we discussed the book as we ate our lunch. We polished off a bottle of wine and Kyle reached for a second when I stopped him. I knew both the temptation that Kyle found in blunting the harsher edges of life with alcohol and the effect too much had on him. “Don’t open that one, sweetheart,” I said easily. “We’ve had enough.”
“I’m still thirsty,” he protested.
“Then have some water. There’s a bottle in the basket.”
He still held the contentious bottle in his hands, plucking restlessly at the cork. I could see the struggle on his expressive features, to give in and obey or to argue. He was quiet for a moment before he muttered, the exasperation obvious in his voice, “We’re on vacation.”
“Yes, we are,” I agreed, leaning over to kiss the nape of his neck. “But you’ve had enough.”
He wanted to yield to me, knowing I was right, but he couldn’t seem to let it go. “You don’t have to be such a hard ass on vacation.”
I ordered firmly, “Look at me.”
He blinked several times before he was able to raise his eyes to meet mine. Unable to hold my gaze for more than a few seconds, he rapidly looked away.
“Where we are doesn’t change who we are, does it?” I asked. “Or what we are to each other.”
“No, sir,” he answered softly. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m right here. If you need something from me you only have to ask.” If he was pushing me because he needed to feel dominated or wanted my attention, I was reminding him that I was more than willing to give him what he craved. Bratting was not a part of our relationship, it wasn’t a dynamic I enjoyed and Kyle didn’t either. Pushing to get a reaction wasn’t something that I tolerated and he knew it.
He nodded before laying face-down on the blanket and I was relieved that the moment seemed to have passed. While I had no qualms about punishing Kyle, even on vacation, I wanted to enjoy our last quiet afternoon together.
The quiet didn’t last long, Kyle sat up after a few minutes and said, “I’m hot, I’m going in for a bit.”
“You’re not,” I said flatly. It was far too dangerous to be in the water today and I wasn’t going to debate that with him.
“It’s our last day,” he replied, his voice low and angry.
It would be anyone’s last day anywhere if they ventured into the violent surf. “I’m not arguing with you Kyle.” The warning in my voice was very clear and although Kyle’s face was flushed with temper he heard it. Biting his lip he nodded his understanding. He was perilously close to being spanked and he knew it.
I pulled him close and with my hand cupped around the back of his neck I roughly kissed him. Prying his lips apart I pushed my tongue in deep into his mouth. He resisted for a moment, fighting me for control before submitting and relaxing. I gentled my touch, massaging his neck with my fingers as I lightly sucked on his lower lip. A sigh escaped from his captured mouth and he breathed an apology.
“Do you want to go back to the room?” I asked, nodding towards his cock which was now half-hard. But he shook his head, “Not yet.”
“All right,” I agreed but hardening my tone I said, “Tell me if you do.” Fair warning that I expected that there would be no more pushing; he was quite capable of asking for what he needed in play.
Nodding he lay back down on the blanket and I did the same. I felt his hand slip into mine and I squeezed it. The wine and the sun had made me sleepy and it wasn’t too long before I drifted off. When I woke, I blinked into the bright sunlight overhead. Disoriented for a moment, I took in the tall palm trees and the sound of the still pounding waves before I sat up. Kyle was no where to be seen and I stood up to look towards the water, my heart thumping at the thought that he had disobeyed me and gone swimming. Relief washed over me when I spotted him walking towards me down the beach.
“Hey,” I smiled when he reached me. “Sorry I fell asleep. Did you have a good walk?”
He returned my smile although his was rather forced. And he looked so patently guilty, like a dog that had been raiding the chicken coop, that I couldn’t help but reach for him to touch his skin to see if he was dry or not. He obviously hadn’t been in the water but I couldn’t account for the anxious expression on his face. Kyle and guilt are an uneasy mix, he never lasted very long before he felt compelled to confess to whatever he’d done wrong.
As it worked out he didn’t have to dredge up the courage to own up. When I began to straighten our clothes and the remains from the picnic Kyle hurried to help me, quickly gathering up the wine bottle from lunch and stuffing it into the basket. My sub was not a man skilled at deception or hiding his feelings from me. I saw the apprehension in his movements and the worried looks he kept shooting at me. Holding out my hand for the basket I didn’t have to say a word. Kyle surrendered it very reluctantly and I wasn’t shocked to find one of the full bottles of wine missing from it.
“I didn’t drink it all,” he said defensively and seeing my expression didn’t soften he continued on, “Not even half. I poured the rest out.”
His self-righteous tone surprised me, he wasn’t one to dispute his wrongdoings but I was sure the wine had something to do with it. There was a very good reason I limited his drinking, his normally latent temper was often revealed when he’d had too much. “Does that matter, Kyle?” I demanded. “I told you not to open it.”
He sank down to sit cross-legged on the sand, his mouth pressed into a tight line of defiance; he refused to acknowledge my statement.
“Get up,” I ordered softly. “”We’re going back to the villa.”
I heard the insult he breathed in response although I’m sure he didn’t intend me to. I bent down to place a hand on his knee and he lifted his head to look at me, his eyes still defiant but they were clouded with misery too. “You do not speak to me that way,” I said quietly but the fact that I punctuated each word with a sharp slap to his inner thigh got his attention. His eyes were watering and he rubbed the patch of reddening skin on his leg when I moved my hand.
”Get up,” I repeated and he reluctantly got to his feet. It was a silent and strained walk back to the villa, I opened my mouth several times to speak but the closed look on Kyle’s face stopped me.
“Go and shower,” I ordered softly when we reached our rooms. There was a certain feeling of inevitability about what was happening, as if our course had been charted since that morning. I didn’t like the possibility that Kyle had orchestrated it, that he had manipulated me even unconsciously. When he reappeared his defiance seemed to have abated and wanting him to keep thinking I steered him over to a corner of the room after he dressed.
I didn’t often send Kyle to the corner, it unnerved him but he was seldom deliberately insolent either and I thought he needed more time to reflect. And time for the effects of the wine to wear off. “Kneel here,” I told him. “When you’re ready to be punished, come to me.”
I felt him wince under my hand. It was a hard thing to have to ask to be disciplined but I wasn’t going to spank him until he’d worked out in his mind what he’d done wrong. I took my time showering, rinsing away the day’s sand and the suntan lotion.
I sat down on one of the chairs in the living room but where I could keep an eye on Kyle through the open door. A book was lying open on my lap although nothing I read was registering. I could see Kyle fidgeting to find a more comfortable position but kneeling, after a while, isn’t easy. I kept an eye on the clock too; it was a half hour before Kyle came to stand in front of me.
Taking a deep breath, he apologized, “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what, Kyle?”
His lower lip trembled and he took another breath, “Disobeying,” his voice cracked as he continued, “Disrespect.” He moved to kneel at my feet and knowing he took comfort in gestures of submission I didn’t stop him.
“I want to know why you drank that wine,” I said implacably.
He looked up at me, ashamed and miserable. “I was mad,” he admitted reluctantly.
I raised an eyebrow and he squirmed a little, “And I didn’t think you’d notice,” he mumbled.
I reached out a hand and drew him to his feet and he started to babble, “You know I hate the end of vacation, Ben.”
“I know,” I nodded. “But I thought disobeying me was something you hated more.”
“I do,” he insisted.
“I think you have something to ask me?” I prompted gently.
He flushed and folded his arms over his chest. I waited patiently. Finally he stammered, “I’m sorry for my disrespect, sir. And my disobedience.” He gave a small groan before adding, “Please punish me.”
I slipped my fingers into the waistband of his shorts and lowered them, waiting while he stepped out of them. Then I took his arm and guided him over my lap and he came willingly. Once he’d made that initial act of submission he didn’t argue. I wanted him to remember what the price of defiance was and I planned on delivering a serious punishment.
I’d deliberately chosen not to use an implement, I’m a strong man and an effective spanker and Kyle needed to feel my hand and submit to it. With a few solid swats, Kyle was already hissing in discomfort but he didn’t plead. When my right palm began to sting intolerably I stood up the now weeping Kyle and steered him to my other side. My left hand isn’t quite as powerful but since Kyle’s bottom was already sore it didn’t matter overly much. When my left hand began to smart too I finally stopped. Running a tingling palm over the hot skin of his backside I let him cry. As always I was touched he would cry in front of me, exposing his vulnerability to me in that way. With his pain tolerance he was quite capable of enduring a hand spanking without tears. Or turning the pain into something else but he never did, accepting his punishment as his due.
I helped him to his feet and led him to the bathroom. He was still hiccupping and I washed his face with a cool cloth. When he closed his eyes I pressed the cloth against his swollen eyelids. Taking it from my hand he moved to soothe the mottled skin of his backside.
I grasped his wrist and took away the cloth, “No,” I said gently but firmly.
Not unexpectedly he started to cry again. He was already laid raw and even that soft reprimand affected him. Drawing him into my arms he cried hard into my chest for several minutes before tapering off again. “Do you want me to lie down with you?”
He nodded fervently as he tried to get control of his breathing. It was mid-afternoon and while I’d napped on the beach, Kyle was tired, spent from the emotional upheaval of the spanking. As we lay in bed, Kyle carefully positioned so his sore bottom didn’t have any pressure on it, I talked to him about what was bothering him so much about returning home.
He shrugged, still a bit embarrassed about how ill-tempered he’d been. “Just…. I miss you, I guess.”
“I miss you too,” I told him and he sighed. “Maybe we need to go away more often,” I suggested. “Even if it’s just for the weekend. We could desensitize you,” I grinned at him.
I could tell that idea appealed to him. “I like that,” he laughed softly. “Therapy for people who don’t want vacation to end.”