The first time I saw him I wanted him with a deep and compulsive conviction. Why I wanted him with such conviction, I wasn’t entirely sure. It wasn’t like me to let my emotions rule so fully and I guess that’s how I came to be blinded to his lies when we first met. I wanted to believe he was an experienced submissive and I like to tell myself he spun a convincing story. Now that I know him better though I shake my head at how deluded I was. He likes to think he’s smooth, a sophisticated young man, but now that I can see a little straighter, I can see straight through him. So used to his wants being paramount he’s never really had to learn to hide his feelings and they were often painfully transparent. Spoiled was a word coined just for him. But surprisingly, for a man who has always been an exacting Dom, it wasn’t something that worried me overmuch and already I could see his self-absorption lessening.
With his dark, wavy hair and full lips, he was attractive. God was he ever and did he know it but I’d had my share of attractive men and my wanting him went beyond that. That he seemed to want me with the same certainty was a lucky thing because I don’t know what I’d have done if he hadn’t. And despite a less than auspicious start to our relationship we were finding our way. Rob wasn’t a troubled or even a particularly difficult sub. To be honest, I’d never have continued to be involved him if he was. I was a Dom, not a martyr and I wanted as many things from him as he wanted from me. He was still reconciling with a lot of feelings though, his own comfort with his submissiveness being the main one.
He loves to play at the club, vain little sub that he is and I enjoy it too. There’s a special frisson of excitement when you play in public. Laid out facedown over a spanking bench, a leather jock keeping his private parts private but leaving his appealing backside bare, I was working Rob for an appreciative audience. How he had any hope of concealing it was beyond me. The light glinted on the glass vial in his hand, catching my eye as he lowered his head to it, my attention drawn by the unnatural movement as well. During a session I’m acutely attuned to his every physical reaction, and I sensed as much as saw him sniff, inhaling the contents of the small bottle. While I couldn’t see his face, the faint flush of pink spreading over his neck and upper back was visible. Nicely warmed up, his bottom was a rosy red, and I’d just picked up a flogger to send him over the edge, flying on an endorphin rush. I felt a rush myself, not of pleasure though but of anger. He’d asked if I minded him using poppers when we played and I made it very clear that I minded very much. Anything that clouded the Dom’s or the sub’s judgment during play was foolish I thought. That poppers were easily available and an undeniable part of the leather scene didn’t make me change my mind. It was a hard limit for me and that he hadn’t respected that hurt me. I took a deep breath, trying to let go of my anger. I couldn’t end the scene at that point, not without Rob feeling considerable discomfort if he was brought out of his hazy state too abruptly. That he trusted me implicitly when we played was vital. I laid on a dozen with the flogger, very carefully, conscious of my own emotional turmoil. He barely reacted to them, so deep in subspace was he and then I went to him, crouching beside his head, I stroked his sweating back and murmured soothingly to him. He was gone; flying high and it took awhile before he came back. Draping a blanket over him I took him over to one of the couches where I cuddled him close, letting him return fully. I noticed when he went to retrieve our toys he picked up the bottle he’d dropped under the bench, glancing around covertly to see if I’d seen him. It wasn’t the place for a confrontation and I let him believe that he’d gotten away with it.
On the way home, blissfully unaware that I knew, he sat in rare silence beside me in the car, still pleasantly floating from our evening. As soon as we were in the house he pressed against me, wanting me. Excited by our earlier play, I could feel his hardness against my thigh and he lifted his tempting mouth to me in invitation. Instead of kissing him, I took his hand and drew him over to the couch. Moving to sit beside me, I stopped him with a hand on his arm. This wasn’t a man-to-man chat we were going to be having and I gestured for him to kneel as I took a seat. Bewildered, he sank to his knees at my feet and tilted his head to the side, an unspoken question in his eyes.
“Where is it?” I asked mildly.
A quick nervous flick of his hazel eyes revealed his guilt. Nevertheless he gave a lopsided grin and asked in apparent innocence, “Where’s what?”
“The poppers,” I explained. Leaning back I watched his reaction play out on his expressive face.
His eyes flew open wide at my words, his panic evident before I saw his brow furrow, obviously trying to think of a way out of the trouble looming on the horizon. Denial was his first choice. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said with no conviction at all.
“I saw you.” The little spark of hope that he could somehow wiggle out of the conversation unscathed died and he gave a ragged sigh. Reaching into the pocket of his tight leather pants, he unearthed the vial. He clutched it in his hand, hiding it in his palm, reluctant to reveal it to me and make the situation real.
I held out a hand, my own large palm outstretched to receive the forbidden item. Rob, never one to accept a disagreeable reality easily, eased his own hand behind his back.
“Boy,” I said sharply and he gave another plaintive sigh and unwillingly deposited the tiny bottle in my waiting hand.
“Why, Rob?” I asked, curious to see what he would say.
He shrugged, shifting his weight from one knee to the other and stammered out a pathetic reply, “You know….”
“No, I don’t know, Rob. Suppose you tell me.”
I wasn’t surprised to see his eyes filling with tears. As much as he seemed to court trouble sometimes, he truly hated to find himself there.
“The other Tops I played with never cared if I used them,” he started, his voice soft and shaky.
“And is that what I am to you? Just another Top?”
“No!” he burst out, shaking his head vehemently. “No! I just don’t see why you care though.”
“Because I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You wouldn’t,” he scoffed, barely resisting rolling his eyes.
“Rob,” I said sternly and he immediately straightened up at my tone. “We discussed this, didn’t we?”
“Yes,” he admitted reluctantly.
“And I said no. That I wasn’t going to negotiate about this, that it was a hard limit for me.”
“That’s just stupid,” he argued hotly, his contriteness replaced by anger. “I’ve never gotten hurt.”
He’d been around the leather scene for a grand total of two months before we met, playing in the controlled environment of the club. That amount of protected experience was nothing and while I was very thankful he hadn’t had anything bad happen his naivety was worrying. Well, I had a story or two of my own that I was going to tell him, of things I’d seen but right now he was going to learn a lesson in respect. I leaned forward, wrapping an arm around his back and pulled him against my thigh. I’m a strong man, I did a man’s work when I was still a boy and my body grew layers of muscles that have remained. Even through leather pants Rob could feel the hard swats I laid on and he was gulping when I stopped after a dozen. “You don’t speak to me that way, boy,” I said, my voice quiet and controlled. His anger, not answered in kind, died and he said, “Yes, sir.” I kept my hand on his bottom and he squirmed nervously. “I’m sorry,” he offered respectfully and I relaxed my grip and he eased himself into an upright position.
“Whether you agree with me or not doesn’t matter. I told you using poppers wasn’t acceptable so….” I placed the bottle on the small table beside me with a click. “You can take this and go back to the club and find a Top that will allow them.” The shock on his face was obvious and the color drained from his cheeks. “Or you can go and get the paddle and ask me to punish you for disobeying me.”
His face twisted as he fought to control his emotions.
“Don’t you trust me, Rob?” I asked. “Don’t you think I can give you what you need without using drugs?”
He clearly hadn’t considered that I would see it as a reflection of my abilities as a Dom. “Yes,” he said, his face still pale. “I don’t know why I did it.”
Probably because I’d said no when he’d asked I thought wryly. He flew easily enough whenever we played, he obviously didn’t need any artificial help in getting to his nirvana.
But obedience also meant submission and that was something that Rob was still struggling with.
“You will respect me and my limits, Rob,” I said firmly. “Just as I respect you and yours.”
He nodded, wiping the back of his hand across his wet eyes. “I will, sir.”
I waited while he took a few gasping breaths, calming down after his anxious moment of being caught out. He seemed to have forgotten all about my instructions to bring the paddle and he gave me a tentative smile when I reached out to smooth his unruly hair back from his face.
The silence stretched and Rob looked at me through damp lashes, fidgeting as he continued to kneel.
“Rob?” I prompted him.
He smiled more confidently; he clearly thought the matter was behind us now. His ability to put unpleasant realities out of his mind at the earliest opportunity was remarkable. While I admired his optimism I wasn’t about to let his disobedience go.
“Go and get the paddle.”
His face fell, his smile replaced by a grimace of dismay. “The paddle?” he stammered.
I never punished Rob with any kind of severity although his perception, heightened by his emotions during the discipline, may have been different. If my hand or a light wooden paddle applied judiciously across his bottom wasn’t enough to correct his behavior, he wasn’t the sub for me. He reached out to take my hand in both of his, pressing his cheek against the back of it, seeking comfort or forgiveness, I wasn’t sure.
“I’m sorry,” he moaned, his tears wetting my hand.
I cupped the back of his head with my other hand and leaned forward to press a kiss into his dark hair. “Did you think I wouldn’t care, Rob? Or that I wouldn’t notice?” I asked softly.
He looked up at me, his eyes troubled and guilty, unable to answer.
“Well, let me tell you, boy, I notice everything about you, you are my responsibility and I care, very much what you do.”
He nodded slowly, taking that in. “Yes, sir,” he said and I saw some of the tension go out of his face.
“When I say no, that’s exactly what it means. Deliberately disobeying me is going to get you punished, Rob.”
“I know,” he admitted with a sad sigh.
“If you knew that Rob, why in God’s name did you do it?” I asked, some of my exasperation slipping out.
“I just…...” he shrugged helplessly. “…wanted to? And I thought you wouldn’t see.”
Well, that was honest.
“Go and get the paddle,” I said again, this time softening my tone.
He clung to my hand a moment more before he got unsteadily to his feet. I watched him make his way across the room, towards the stairs, radiating misery and pathos as he went. I waited a good while and I was just about to go and find him, when he returned, the small wooden paddle in his hand. I held out a hand to take it from him and then said, “Go and have a shower, Rob and get ready for bed.”
He looked surprised at the delay but I didn’t want him to be punished in the clothes he’d worn to play. He needed a clear line between play and real discipline and anything I could do to make that line clearer, I would.
While he obeyed I went to the bathroom on the lower floor and showered before changing into casual clothes. I wanted our evening to end in a much different way too but I wouldn’t be doing Rob any favors in letting this go. He needed to know that I meant what I said, I wasn’t about to let his unrestrained needs drive our relationship.
I found him in the bedroom, wet hair still dripping and his T-shirt and sleep pants sticking to his damp body. “Come here,” I ordered gently, understanding how unnerved he was, I didn’t scold him. Instead I stripped his wet clothes off and toweled off his shivering body. Pulling him into my arms, I hugged him hard.
He groaned, “I wish I hadn’t done it. I’m so stupid.”
I landed a light swat on his bottom, “You’re not stupid…just disobedient.”
He managed a small smile at my teasing and relaxed against my chest. “I am sorry.”
“I know,” I assured him and held him for a few more minutes. With a final firm squeeze, I eased him away from me. “No means no though, Rob. I’m serious about that.”
He nodded, trying unsuccessfully to plaster himself against me again. I held him firmly by his arms though. “So let’s deal with this and then we can go to bed.”
I led him over to the dresser and pulled out a dry T-shirt and boxers for him to put on. Dressed like that, fresh from his shower he looked younger and more vulnerable, the confident, sexual player gone. I took his hand as we walked back to the couch and the waiting paddle, letting him have my support and some comfort. Sitting down, I patted my lap meaningfully and waited while he reluctantly laid himself across my strong thighs.
“Please, Thane? Please?” he pleaded softly. “Don’t use the paddle?”
A novice, Rob didn’t fully understand the huge betrayal of trust his using during a scene against my wishes had been. I’d have dismissed another sub under similar circumstances, no excuses accepted. But being a beginner didn’t excuse his disobedience. If he was looking for my attention or proof that I cared what he did, he was about to get it.
“You earned the paddle, boy,” I said firmly as I pulled his boxers down to expose his rounded bottom. “And that’s exactly what you’re going to get.”
His cheeks were still pink from our earlier play and I knew it wouldn’t take much to deliver an effective punishment. There’s an art to giving a spanking, whether an erotic or corrective one. With the right technique there was never a need to be overly harsh. I picked up the paddle and brought it down on his right buttock firmly enough to elicit a small gasp. He squirmed a little and whined, “Thane.”
After a short pause, I swatted the left cheek and he gasped again. I continued to deliver solid, deliberate swats, covering his bottom evenly. The pink skin quickly turned red and Rob was panting and twisting across my lap, trying to present fresh territory for me to punish. I held him tightly with a hand on his far hip and his movements didn’t prevent me from landing the swats exactly where I wanted on his wriggling backside. He craned his head around to look at me, his lips quivering and his eyes wet. “I won’t…again…” he promised, reaching back to shield his sore backside. I stopped paddling, not wanting to hurt his fingers. His palm moved over what he could reach, trying to rub some of the biting sting out of his punished backside.
“That’s good, Rob, because I need to be able to trust you.” I put down the paddle beside me for a moment. Taking his hand in mine, I held it out of the way and began to gently rub my own hand possessively over his reddened skin.
“You can trust me,” he insisted, obviously upset by the thought that his actions had made me doubt him. He tried to sit up, wanting comfort and for the punishment to be over but I held him in place over my lap. “I want up,” he protested. “We’re done.”
“That isn’t up to you, it’s up to me and I say, we’re not done,” I told him as I picked up the paddle again. “Keep your hands away, baby. I don’t want to hurt you.”
He groaned and grabbed a pillow, clutching at it to prevent himself from reaching back. I paddled the lowest part of the curve of his bottom and he kicked and voiced his protests loudly. As soon as I heard his voice crack I picked up the pace, swatting more rapidly, bringing him to tears and the end of the punishment. He wailed out his misery as I finished, my hand dropping the paddle and returning to lightly rub the bottom I’d just punished.
As soon as he was composed enough I helped him to his feet and holding his arm, I steered him towards the bed. I knew he was exhausted, tired out from the paddling and the emotions it stirred. I settled him into bed, rubbing his back until his crying had abated and then went to get a cloth to wash his face. I wiped his tear-stained cheeks and he looked at me, his eyes red-rimmed and pathetic. “It hurts,” he complained, his hands moving to hold his sore backside.
“I know,” I told him, sitting down at the side of the bed. “And I’ll do it again if you ever disobey me like that.”
“Yes, sir,” he said contritely, shifting under the covers to find a more comfortable position. “It won’t happen again.”
I smiled at him and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Good.”
“I thought I was so careful. How did you know?” he asked.
He really was such an innocent. “I’m your Dom,” I said. “And I know everything.”
He snorted softly and I winked at him, “Because I love you, Rob,” I said. “And I’ll always do my best to keep you safe.”