Come Play: An Erotica Charity Anthology

by Quin Perin

  Some pain could make him fly—take him out of his body and all the problems that lived inside it. That pain—the kind that came from order being imposed—made him feel like all his mismatched bones were being broken and reset, rendering him straight and whole again.

  But the pain in his knees right now was not that kind of pain. It was the kind of pain that reminded him of his first week of boot camp, when he’d been alone—lost and homesick—regretting that he’d put himself there, not sure he was good enough to survive it, feeling like in all the world there wasn’t a soul who would help him.

  Eduardo pulled Jake’s face in tight against his groin and did that soothing thing with his hand, stroking him like he did Earl. Taming the wild beast.

  “Do you often do this to yourself—cause unnecessary harm out of stubbornness?”

  “Sometimes.” Only every day.

  “We’re going to stop that behavior.”

  “We are?” Jake rolled his face up to see Eduardo’s.

  “Perhaps I should say I am. If you were capable of stopping it yourself, you’d have done so.”

  That stung because it was true. No matter how often he told himself to count to ten or grin and bear it, he couldn’t change how he reacted in the moment. Which was with a fuck-you rebellion that never hurt anyone except him.

  “Let’s go over the rules,” Eduardo said, stroking Jake’s head back down into the valley of his groin. “You already learned some of them. You’re to disrobe when you arrive. When I tell you to follow me, you’ll heel. I suggest using your hands, but—” Eduardo shrugged “—don’t expect leniency in other ways if you choose not to. I know your knees hurt, and they’ll continue to hurt. The punishments I administer will be specific, fair, and of limited duration, whereas the harm you bring on yourself is open-ended and potentially out of proportion. Something for you to think on.”

  “Like you said, I’ve already thought on it plenty. Hasn’t changed anything.”

  “Exactly. Hence my punishments, which I will dole out whenever you fail to follow the rules. Rule three: don’t damage my property. You are my property. Rule four, all tasks are to be completed diligently, showing proper respect for the fact that I gave them to you. Five—”

  “How many rules are there?”

  “Very well. Five, no interruptions or backtalk of any kind. Six—” Eduardo paused, giving Jake the chance to dig himself in deeper, but he managed to keep his mouth shut for a change. “Six, during punishment I expect you to address me as Sir. At other times, anything respectful will be fine.” He paused, then added. “Please don’t shorten my name to Ed. The short form of Eduardo is Lalo.”

  “Lalo,” Jake repeated. Eduardo’s dick had plumped up a little. It made a nice bulge against his face—firm and masculine through the light layer of grey cotton. Maybe Eduardo would fuck him after punishing him, except there wasn’t likely to be an after. Why bother setting out rules as if this night were going to be repeated over and over when it would inevitably end with Eduardo throwing him out of the house?

  Most Doms wouldn’t have taken a chance on having him in their home like this—not given his reputation for non-compliance—but now that Jake had seen Earl he understood why Eduardo wasn’t worried. Earl monitored them closely from a fleece-lined, bright blue doggie bed. One command, and he’d tear Jake limb from limb.

  “So,” Eduardo said, “now that you understand the rules, can you tell me why you’re going to punished tonight?”

  Jake went back over them in his head. Naked, check. Heel when following, check. He had damaged himself by walking on his knees down the hardwood hallway, but Eduardo had told him he was getting punished as soon as he came in the door, so it wasn’t only that. All tasks to be completed diligently— Oh.

  “Because I didn’t fill out the form right?”

  “Because you didn’t fill out the form at all. You defaced the form, but you didn’t fill it out. I gave you a task, and I expected it to be completed.”

  Jake scowled. “Picking out my own punishments isn’t punishment. That’s just getting off.”

  “Many people do get off on BDSM. They would consider getting off to be the point. Tell me what the point is to you.”

  “I just want it to be real.”

  “Real punishment?”

  Jake nodded.

  “Because you deserve it?” Eduardo hummed when Jake nodded again. “The reason for the form is that I want to discipline you without harming you. Punishment is steady, bearable, corrective. A little humiliating, a little painful, but not traumatizing or triggering. So you’re going to try that form again, but this time I just want you to highlight the things that are hard noes for you. I’ll manage the rest. How does that sound?”

  “I can do that.”

  “All right then. Punishment.” Eduardo picked up a black leather glove from the end table and tugged it onto his right hand, fastening the Velcro strap snugly around his wrist. “Lists aside, I use hand spankings almost exclusively when it comes to punishment, so that’s what we’ll be doing tonight. Ten for failing to execute on the task I assigned you and ten more for causing unnecessary damage to your knees.”

  Twenty spanks administered by hand was nothing. Eduardo shouldn’t even need a glove for it.

  Still, it wasn’t fair.

  “I didn’t know the rules when—”

  “Ten for talking back.”

  “I can’t even fucking point out that—”

  “Ten more.”

  Shit. Forty. Suddenly the glove made sense. The devil on Jake’s shoulder tempted him to keep going. He didn’t deserve ten for walking on his knees when Eduardo had said he could, but he probably deserved more than ten for making such a mess out of that form.

  And the talking back. He’d definitely been talking back when he could’ve shut up and taken twenty easy. Now they were getting into the range where he might start fighting, and fuck, he wanted this to work. He really did. Eduardo was so smooth, so certain. So handsome in an upright way, like an idol Jake didn’t dare approach.

  So why was he arguing with him? He swallowed his tongue, casting his eyes downward in an attempt at showing obedience.

  “All right then,” Eduardo said in the same tone he’d used to add to Jake’s punishment. “Up you go, over my lap.”

  “I’m not going over your lap.”

  “Fifty.”

  “Fuck, Eduardo.” He needed to be restrained to a bench or something. He would thrash, possibly do damage. “I’m not going to fucking fit over—”

  “Seventy.”

  Jake opened his mouth to question how they’d just jumped from fifty to seventy, but Eduardo held up a finger to stop him, and Jake wisely shut it again.

  “Think, Jake. What other rule did you just break?”

  Rule one, naked. Rule two, heel. Rule three, no property damage. Rule four, complete tasks diligently. Rule five, no talking back—man, he’d fucked that one up. Rule six—

  “Call you Sir when I’m being punished.”

  “Good boy.”

  Jake beamed at the praise, realizing that the time he’d spent reviewing the rules had lowered the wall of resistance that’d been going up, much like counting to ten did when he actually remembered to do it.

  It wasn’t his job to figure out how Eduardo was supposed to balance a man of his size over his lap. Eduardo would find out for himself that it wouldn’t work. So when Eduardo patted his thigh again, Jake clambered over it.

  His upper chest ended up over the arm of the couch, which was padded enough that it didn’t hurt, and his legs were supported by the couch itself. His ass laid neatly over Eduardo’s lap, and Eduardo shifted a thigh to prop it higher, making it a more obvious target. Eduardo’s dick, meaty and plump, but not hard, nestled into Jake’s stomach and Jake’s, which was likewise uncertain, butted up against Eduardo’s thigh.

  With the couch bearing most of Jake’s weight, the position was manageable if embarrassing. He hadn’t been over someone’s lap
for a spanking since he’d been a much younger, leaner man, and the Marine in Jake screamed at him to get up off of there. Taking lashes while keeping to his feet—that was what a man did.

  “We’ll do these in sets of ten.” Eduardo’s hand rose, then dropped again with a sharp smack.

  Ouch. That’d been no warm up. Jake endured the next nine. Each one landed in a different spot so that by the time the first set had ended, his entire ass felt sweetly warm. If he hadn’t been adding to his punishment since the moment he’d walked through the door, he’d be done now, and though he knew he was capable of taking a lot more, the thought of how he’d screwed himself—as usual—pissed him off enough that he brooded his way through the second set.

  The smacks were landing harder now, the leather adding to the sting as Eduardo thoroughly covered his ass for a second time, hitting flesh that was already sore. He launched into a third set without so much as asking for a color.

  Well, Jake had wanted that, hadn’t he? But Eduardo didn’t know he hated being asked for a color, and it wasn’t right of him to carry merrily on without checking. Fuck that asshole. Eduardo thought he was so big because he had Jake ass-up over his lap, but they’d see about that.

  He started to kick, drumming his legs against the couch and squirming his hips away from the descending blows. When that didn’t provoke a response, he reached back and grabbed for Eduardo’s wrist.

  Eduardo sighed. “You make me do so much math. Let’s see. That was seventy, minus twenty-four, plus ten equals …”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Plus another ten brings us to… sixty-six,” he concluded. “We’re going to be here all night at this rate. And that’s fine, big guy. That’s just fine. You do what you have to do. I won’t quit on you.”

  “You fucker.” Jake had had enough. He wrenched himself off of Eduardo’s lap, off the couch altogether. He loomed over Eduardo, making his body big and bulky. “I’m just supposed to let you pound on me all night?”

  “Seventy-six.”

  “Then you better fucking tie me up, because if you think I’m going to lie still and take that—”

  “You’re going to lie still and take it. Eighty-six.”

  The fucker. The absolute fucker. Sitting there all calm. Fucking counting. As if Eduardo could count high enough to scare him. He refused to be intimidated by a shitty Dom with a spanking fetish.

  Meanwhile Eduardo didn’t appear to be intimidated either, even though Jake was pacing back and forth in front of him, fists clenched, his face getting warm in that way that meant he was turning into a red version of the Hulk.

  “Earl, settle.” Eduardo’s command to the dog made Jake realize Earl was concerned by his raging even if Eduardo wasn’t. Earl was up on all fours, ears perked high. A low growl rumbled from his throat, but at Eduardo’s command he lay back down, ears still on alert but obeying his master.

  God, Jake wished he could do that—that he could be good for his master. Lie still and take his punishment—punishment he deserved. He really did deserve every stroke of it. He’d been such an ass to Eduardo, asking for a firm hand and then rebelling when he got it. And now behaving like a wild thing, pacing back and forth, naked and enraged. He was just—

  He was the worst.

  He plunked himself down on the far end of the couch and buried his face in his hands, not sure how to go on. Put his clothes on and leave? Chalk up another failed encounter?

  “Come here, big guy.” Eduardo gave his thigh a firm tap.

  Really? He could just go over there and start again?

  Slowly, waiting to be told no, he crawled back over Eduardo’s lap.

  “There we go.” Eduardo ran a hand down the length of his spine. “Eighty-six. I’d like it if you could try not to add more, so I’ll be counting any further resistance as both talking back and as unnecessary damage.”

  Really? Eduardo didn’t want to add any more, so he was going to add them twenty at a time? It would be funny if it weren’t hopeless. They’d never be through it. Jake would never be good. He didn’t even care about the physical pain. He just wanted to be good.

  The smacks started again, first a quick six to get up to a round number then those sets of ten. A familiar pattern, rhythmic and certain. A brief pause during which Eduardo rubbed a gentle hand over his back, then another set. Jake’s mental struggle to not resist, not talk back, turned into a physical struggle as the pain mounted. This was genuine punishment now. It hurt.

  The pain burned white through his mind, rendering the angry mass of his emotions into ash as it went. His body began to resist of its own accord, thrashing and jerking, trying to escape the inescapable next blow. There was panic—he was being bad. He was being bad, and he didn’t want to be bad. But he couldn’t keep still anymore. It hurt too much, was too relentless, too real.

  Eduardo finished another set. His hand brushed comfortingly over Jake’s back. “There, there. You’re doing so well now. Another thirty, and you’re through it. You can kick if you need to. As long as you’re not kicking me.” And he began again.

  Thirty. Another thirty. How was it even possible? He wanted to take them all—knew he deserved them all—but he couldn’t. His body gave way to tears. The frustration, the hopeless helplessness, the conflict—all of it came out in ugly, heaving sobs.

  Punishment would go on as long as it went on, as long as he deserved to have it go on. There was nothing he could do to stop it. All he could do was take it.

  “There.” Eduardo’s voice broke through the white noise of his own sobs. “All done, big guy. All forgiven. You want to come up here or would you rather stay like that a bit?”

  Jake cried harder. He was grateful the spanking had stopped, but he didn’t feel finished somehow.

  “Okay, that’s fine. Sometimes a boy needs to show his red ass to the room and think for a bit. Demonstrate proper remorse.”

  Yes, that was it. He was remorseful. He’d made Eduardo spank him so hard, for so long. Eduardo’s hand must be exhausted. He’d taken the glove off, Jake could tell from the softer feeling as he rubbed and caressed the flesh he’d tortured. Jake liked the attention, liked that his shame was on display. He crossed his arms over the arm of the couch and pillowed his head on top of them, keeping his face turned from Eduardo to hide it.

  He was embarrassed now about the fuss he’d made—all that backtalking and kicking and the pitiful tears. But he also felt wrung out in a peaceful, contented way, like he could lie here the rest of his life knowing he’d taken his punishment. Eduardo let him stay there for a long time until he’d settled enough to be more embarrassed about enjoying lying there than he was about anything else.

  He pushed himself up to sit next to Eduardo on the couch, his ass a bruised and stinging mess beneath him. He scrabbled at his cheeks, trying to erase the tracks of his tears. Eduardo handed him a box of tissues and he blew his nose, then didn’t have anywhere to put the used tissue and fumbled with it uncertainly until Eduardo took it from him, used it to make a last swipe at his nose, then executed a perfect three point shot into a wastebasket in the corner.

  They smiled at each other over the beauty of that shot, then Eduardo patted him on the thigh.

  “I think that’s good for today. Tomorrow you’ll bring that form, and maybe there will be some tweaks, but you’ve got the general idea of what we’re going to do every night.”

  “You’re going to spank me?” Jake asked doubtfully.

  “I’m going to discipline you. We’ll go through your day—determine what mistakes you’ve made and how much punishment they warrant—and then I’ll administer it.”

  “So you’re running my whole life now.”

  “Someone has to do it.”

  “And that’s it? There’s no sex or… scene?” Jake hadn’t actually sprung a boner that whole time. And if Eduardo had gotten off on it, Jake hadn’t noticed. Eduardo had been like a loving but stern parent—determined and calm, not horny or creepy.

&n
bsp; “Perhaps we’ll get there,” Eduardo said with a smile. “You’re too wild for more than a disciplinary relationship right now. Affection, trust—those things are earned. For now, let’s work on getting the rest of your life in order.”

  Eduardo made him sit at the kitchen table and drink a glass of juice while he wrote out his to-do list for the next day. First thing on it was making another stab at the kink list. Below that, Jake wrote down the tasks he knew he’d do—like exercise—and then, with more prompting from Eduardo, he added some things he ought to do—like the mindfulness exercises that helped with his impulse control problem and working on his job situation.

  Eduardo sent him home with a pat on his head and his to-do list in hand. His ass ached, but his knees ached worse, and he remembered what Eduardo had said about his punishments being finite and purposeful compared to the pointless and more lingering pain Jake brought on himself.

  Tomorrow he’d do better.

  Three

  The day started off well. It started off so well, in fact, that it actually started the night before, with Jake sitting at his kitchen table, laboriously and neatly completing a fresh copy of the kink list. That was one item checked off already.

  He rose the next morning with an unusual sense of optimism. He was going to be super productive, very calm. There was a lingering ache in his ass and bad bruising around his knees. Asses were fleshy and made to recover. Knees were not. Also, assess were hidden.

  The guys at the gym were going to give him shit for having bruised knees, but fuck ’em. He’d spin a story about a long blowjob on rough ground, and that’d have him them backing away quick enough. Besides, a little teasing was worth it in exchange for the settled feeling that a good scene brought on.

  He’d cried last night. Cried hard. He’d pleased his Dom, a rare enough occurrence, and had gotten a good night’s sleep, and now he was ready to tackle the world with a bounce in his step and a smile on his face.