M/M sex, discipline, spanking. If the fantasy of a discipline relationship
between two consenting adult men offends you, so will this story.
ELIZABETH MARSHALL STORIES
The day Gary heard through the grapevine that his ex boyfriend was marrying a woman, Gary had his hair clipped very short and dyed very blond. He went out clubbing and drank too much, too fast, and was sick on the sidewalk on the way home. Gary had never been so humiliated in all his life.
Gary felt humbled and betrayed, his sense of himself as a sexually attractive gay man seriously eroded. He swore off men. Since he'd never been into women, that left him essentially without options other than internet porn and his own company.
That lasted two weeks. Gary was young and passionate, it was February and the shops were bright with Valentine cheer, and Martin was cute. He was also the new administrator of the GLBT art gallery two doors down from Gary's office. Gary thought that boded well for Martin's interest in men being somewhat more permanent than his ex's.
Gary and Martin agreed on the chichi Mexican eatery across the street for their first lunch. It was busy midday; the waiter quickly brought their complimentary chips and dips and took their drinks order. Gary watched in horror as Martin leaned forward and dragged his tie neatly through the mango salsa. Thank God he hadn't done it, he'd have died...
"I have never been so humiliated in my life." Martin winked at him, reading Gary's mortified expression correctly. With a smile and a shrug, Martin undid his ruined tie, coiled it and put it on his bread plate. "Too bad. I liked that tie."
Gary eyed the nearby tables quickly: Had anyone seen? What did they think? God, why didn't he ever remember how bad first dates really were...
"You recommended this place, so I take it you've been here before. What do you suggest that's good?" Martin asked with a smile, seemingly unconcerned about his salsa splattered mess of a tie.
"Huh? I'm sorry, what did you say?" Gary realized Martin had been talking to him.
"Are you ready to order yet?" the waiter asked. He looked at the ruined tie on Martin's plate with a sardonic expression. "I didn't think we had eel on the menu."
Gary swallowed hard. He flushed, more embarrassed for himself than for Martin.
"You mind getting rid of this for me?" Martin asked the waiter. "It was hungrier than I was."
The waiter gave a surprised snicker, then grinned at Martin.
"Certainly, sir. Let me tell you about our specials for the day." The waiter gave Gary a quick, cursory glance and then fixed his soulful brown eyes on Martin's face. "We have..."
Gary watched with growing ire as the waiter flirted, yes, definitely flirted, with Martin. Gary had been ready to write this date off, but the waiter's presumption grated on him and he was competitively determined to blow the nervy little bastard out of the water.
When Gary wanted to be charming, there was no one like him. He was quick and viciously funny and the waiter backed off before he'd even properly started, knowing it was a lost cause.
Martin laughed appreciatively at Gary's jokes and smiled tolerantly at Gary's New Age pretensions and generally ignored Gary's nervous posturing and by the end of the meal, Gary realized that he wouldn't mind seeing Martin again.
Martin seemed doubtful about Gary's choice of Korean food for their next lunch, which just made Gary more determined to show off his sophisticated knowledge of the area's ethnic restaurants. The meal started with a selection of appetizers; the restaurant's choice.
"What are these?" Martin asked curiously, poking a dish of tiny pinkish pebbles encrusted with white with the point of a chopstick.
"Salt shrimp," Gary said.
"They look like salt bugs," Martin said. "This looks good, though." He took a piece of kimchee.
"It's hot," Gary warned.
"I like hot," Martin said, sweat beginning to bead his forehead. "This is very hot."
Gary took a few salt shrimp and crunched them. He couldn't get the thought of Martin's blithe joke about salted insects out of his mind and half way through the appetizers, Gary knew he was going to be sick. He bolted for the restroom.
For someone as self conscious as Gary, being sick in a restaurant bathroom was agony. He was sure he would die, right then and there, if he didn't get home.
"Then you'll go home." Martin's voice was gentle. He handled the check, declined the waitress's offer to pack their meal, and ushered Gary outside. He walked Gary to his car.
"I've never been so humiliated in my whole life," Gary said glumly.
"Hey," Martin clasped his shoulder for a moment. "It happens. Are you going to be okay getting home? I'll follow you in my car."
"Don't do that, I'm fine," Gary said. "See you."
"Bye, Gary." Martin waited a few minutes and then followed Gary anyway. Gary didn't notice he was being tailed, but it made Martin feel better to know Gary had got in safe.
The next time Martin chose the restaurant. It was part of an upscale chain, there were no surprises on the menu and the meal went pleasantly. Martin invited Gary up to his downtown apartment for coffee afterward.
Martin's apartment was on the top floor of a rehabbed mixed use building in the revitalized downtown section of their small city. The small rooms were crowded with furniture and objets d'art; Martin was clearly a collector. Gary recognized that it was a deliberate style, but it wasn't one he understood. He felt obscurely embarrassed; he'd thought he had the advantage of Martin in sophistication, but here was a clear demonstration that he'd underestimated Martin. It made Gary uneasy.
Martin pressed two cups of espresso through his machine and brought them into the living room. He put a plate of miniature Italian pastries on the coffee table and smiled at Gary. They settled side by side on the couch. There was an awkward moment while they shifted closer, and then Martin's arm was around Gary.
Gary kissed Martin. Martin kissed back with cautious interest. Gary stroked his hand over Martin's neck and chest, surprised at the amount of muscle he felt. Martin's body, like his apartment, was considerably more prepossessing than Gary had bargained for. He looked at Martin's crotch, seeing a very promising bulge beginning.
He ran his hand over himself, confirming what he already knew. Nothing at all was happening.
"Shit," Gary said, totally abashed. "Please, I just want to go home. I have never been so humiliated in my life."
"Not since the last time," Martin murmured, not moving his arm from around Gary.
"It's not funny!" Gary didn't like being teased.
"I'm not laughing at you," Martin said gently. "Gary, you're overreacting."
"I am not." Gary really didn't think he was. He got angrier and tenser. "Let's just call it an evening."
"Gary," Martin said very firmly. "You don't need to carry on like this. You think you're the only guy who's ever needed a little time? Things like this happen; we're not nineteen anymore. You're working yourself into a state over something that's really not a big deal."
"Yeah, all right." Gary felt very petty. Martin was being much nicer than he deserved. "I don't mean to be impossible."
"You're not impossible," Martin said. "Maybe a little difficult, I'll concede that."
'I'm sorry, Martin," Gary said. "I feel like such a fucking asshole."
"Gary, just stop it," Martin said gently. He leaned in and kissed him. It wasn't the response Gary was expecting. It wasn't the kiss Gary would have expected, either. Martin's lips were firm and certain, his tongue a lot more aggressive than Gary would have predicted, and Gary felt himself responding to their demands. He opened his mouth, feeling a thrill of purely physical interest.
Martin's hand groped gently.
"I think it's too soon to be calling your doctor about a prescription for Viagra," Martin said.
"Yeah, well," Gary mumbled, unzipping his fly. "I guess maybe you were right."
"Was that so hard to say?" Martin asked, laughing. "Brat." He swatted Gary's hip, not hard, but it was enough to make Gary's cock go rigid against his belly.
"You spanked me!" Gary squeaked.
"That wasn't a spank." Martin rubbed his hand, lightly, teasingly, over Gary's thigh and Gary squirmed, widening his legs and sliding his back down the couch. Martin took advantage of Gary's position to work a warm hand around to the small of his back and untuck his shirt. His fingers slipped below Gary's waistband and began to rub lower.
"I'd like to spank you for real," Martin said huskily, and Gary realized with a little thrill of apprehension that Martin was as into it as he was. "I'd like to turn you over my lap and take your pants down and spank your tight ass a solid red."
"You wouldn't dare." Gary was so excited he could hardly breathe.
"Oh wouldn't I? Try me." Martin patted his lap. "Come here, Gary, I want to spank you."
"You've done this before?" Gary asked nervously.
"You think so?" Martin winked at Gary.
"I don't know about this..." Gary said, even as he blushed a solid red and began to position himself. He'd seen enough porn to know his role.
"God you make me hot," Martin said, massaging Gary's ass, easing him closer. He spanked Gary lightly, playfully, and Gary let out a little, startled puff of breath before starting to protest. "No, no, be a good boy now, I'm not going to hurt you." He spanked Gary again, just a fraction harder. "Yet."
Gary's cock rasped across the fabric of Martin's trousers as he squirmed under Martin's knowing hand. He shuddered, his orgasm as powerful as any he'd every felt.
"Good?" Martin grinned and massaged the trembling pink mounds beneath his hand. Gary was a lot of fun. He eased Gary back onto his knees.
"Shit." Gary looked at the wet spreading stain across Martin's lap and felt a matching blush stain his face.
"Gary, Gary, Gary," Martin said quietly. He drew Gary into his lap, kissed him. "That's part of this. This is all new to you; I understand that. We'll take it slow. We're not going to do anything, not one thing, that makes you uncomfortable or makes you feel scared or humiliated or any of the other things you're working yourself up about. We can talk about this, Gary, there's nothing for you to panic about. It's okay."
"Okay," Gary said. "Okay." He closed his eyes and rested his head on Martin's shoulder. "I'm okay."
And then Gary dropped off the face of the planet.
Martin called. Martin emailed. Martin made tactful inquiries among their mutual friends. No one had spoken to Gary; no one knew whether Gary was upset or not. Deciding that concern for Gary trumped discretion, Martin went by Gary's office. The receptionist informed him that Gary hadn't come in that week.
That did it. Martin taped a "Closed Due To Emergency" sign to the gallery's glass front door and drove out to Gary's townhouse. Martin looked at the door, at the closed blinds. He rang the bell. There was no answer. He dialed Gary's number on his cell phone; got his voice mail.
"I know you're in there, Gary. Open your door," Martin said. "Gary, I swear I'll stand here until you do."
Gary opened the door. He looked at Martin, shaking his head.
"You're a persistent asshole, you know that."
"I've been called worse," Martin said, unfazed. "You look like death warmed over. When's the last time you slept, Gary?"
"I'm fine." Gary hesitated a moment. "I'm not, really. Come in."
He didn't seem at all skittish around Martin. He certainly didn't act like a man who'd been traumatized by a scene gone wrong. Martin's bewilderment grew.
Gary's artfully arranged living room was a mess. He'd dragged his pillows and quilt to the couch and he'd obviously eaten his last meals there, too; the coffee table was littered with Diet Coke cans and meal bar wrappers.
"Come here," Martin said, and Gary came to him without hesitation, seeming glad for the contact. More and more, Martin doubted that he was responsible for Gary's seeming change of heart. Martin wrapped his arms around Gary and eased them both down on the couch, ignoring the mess. "Talk to me. Something's wrong and I want to help."
"Look." Gary shoved a wedding invitation at him.
Martin looked at it; it seemed innocuous enough.
"He was my first boyfriend," Gary said. "I was just coming out, he'd been out for ages. And now he's marrying some woman. I've never been so humiliated in my life." Gary wept.
"Shh..." Martin smudged the tears from his face. "Baby, it's not about you."
"The fuck it's not."
"No, Gary, it's not." Martin shook his head. "Gary, we all make our choices, as best we can. He didn't send you the invitation to make you feel awful, I really don't believe that, he sent it because he was once your friend and he wanted to let you know. I'm sorry it hurt you."
"You don't know what it's like to feel this humiliated! To remember the things we did together and wonder what he thinks about them now, to wonder what he thinks about me--"
"I don't know what it's like to feel humiliated? How do you think I felt when, the day after we fooled around, you stopped returning my phone calls and emails. You cut me off completely. I felt humiliated, like I'd completely misread the signals you were sending, like I'd completely misunderstood you." Martin took a deep breath. "Like I'd taken advantage of you. I'm experienced enough to know better. We didn't talk about our expectations; we didn't talk about safewords. I felt ashamed."
"That's not what happened," Gary said weakly. "It wasn't about that."
"I'm glad, Gary. But I'm not a mind reader, you know? It would have been nice if you had at least left me a message."
"I didn't think about it," Gary said. "I didn't think about how you'd feel."
"Only about how you felt." Martin sighed. "You're a sweet guy, Gary, but you're a little self centered."
"Yeah, well, you're not the first person to think that. What are you going to do about it, spank me again?" Gary scowled at Martin, but behind his frown was something else: A plea.
"You know, Gary, it's not a bad idea." Martin looked at him, seeing a great deal more than Gary knew he was revealing. "You deserve a spanking for treating yourself like this. It'd hurt you a whole lot less than you're hurting yourself, Gary."
"All right. Fine. You think it'll help me, then spank me!" Gary had no idea why he was saying any of that. He wasn't even a hundred percent sure Martin was serious, but it felt right, somehow, to give in, to agree. "All right," Gary said, tears springing to his eyes. "Just do it, all right? I don't want a fucking discussion, I don't want a fucking safeword, I just want you to do it. All right, Martin? You want to spank me, then spank me!"
"That's enough, Gary," Martin said quietly, humbled by Gary's trust. He gathered Gary in his arms, held him close and kissed him quiet. "Let's get those sweats off."
Shit. Gary gulped.
"I know what I'm doing," Martin reassured him. Seeing Gary was making no move to comply, he tugged Gary's sweat pants down. Gary was bare underneath. "Here you go. Over my lap." He arranged Gary so that his torso and legs were supported by the couch, not giving Gary time to panic, and just like the first time, Gary dropped his head to his folded arms, breathing hoarsely through his mouth and nose.
Gary felt even more vulnerable than he had felt the first time Martin had spanked him. Then, it had been kinky fun, a sex game, but this time it implied something deeper and less purely erotic. It was punishment; Gary expected it to be painful and humiliating and he felt bad enough inside that he felt he deserved both.
The spanking wasn't what he'd expected. It was painful, but it wasn't humiliating, not after the first moment of submission. Martin held him snugly throughout, his spanking hand cracking down in hard, even rhythm, until in the end Gary went limp over his lap and cried.
Martin rubbed his back for a long time, waiting for his sobs to quiet and his tears to stop.
"Better now, Gary?" Martin asked gently.
"Ow. Yeah." Gary took a deep breath and yawned, all tension fallen away. He felt sore and safe and very, very tired.
"I've got you," Martin said, shifting them both so that they lay entwined on the couch, Gary in his arms. "How do you feel, Gary, hmm?"
Gary realized that for the first time in forever, he felt just fine. Not ill-humored, not humiliated, just human. He closed his eyes and snuggled closer to Martin, feeling very secure in Martin's humane embrace.
"Can you stay awhile, Martin?" Gary asked hopefully.
"I'm not going anywhere." Martin rubbed Gary's back in reassuring circles and dreamed about the future.
(Written for LS's Valentine's Day 2006 Challenge)