Tenderly Wicked

by Katerina Ross

  “Actually, first, it was good. Made me all a-quiver,” Vadim confessed bashfully. “It felt chilly, then colder, then very cold. It was like fucking a block of ice. Then it was more like burning. And it got worse.”

  “Okay, the ‘toothpaste vs the male genitalia’ experiment didn’t work out,” Max admitted, feeling it was an underestimation.

  “Yeah,” Vadim sighed. “It’s definitely a thing meant for your teeth, not your private parts, at least in my case. Though the idea was promising. We could try something else. Like warming-up creams. It kind of increases blood flow to the area, which is very stimulating.”

  “Really?” Max was surprised Vadim had declared himself ready for new experiments so soon after what had happened.

  Vadim leaned in to nuzzle Max’s cheek against his own. “I hope you enjoy it more than the toothpaste thing.”

  He said it like everything was about keeping Max satisfied. Perhaps it should have pleased Max more than it did.

  ****

  Their collection of toys continued to grow. Not all of them got to be put to use in the end, like the violet wand, for example, because it scared Max like hell. Especially because he’d read that excessive electricity play could cause burns and heart-related problems. But Vadim went on buying new gear, finding innovative ways to apply everyday items not meant for sadomasochistic games. It was quite amusing what a creative person could do with loofah sponges, cheese graters, or sandpaper.

  Vadim was like a puppy, bringing toys to his master and looking at him pleadingly. “Play with me, will you?” Turning him down felt like kicking a poor thing unaware of its master’s black mood.

  And black it was. Max’s luck of a newbie seemed to have run out, or maybe he’d just started trying more elaborate games than he could cope with. In a month, he’d screwed up a few times, more and more spectacularly. Max didn’t want Vadim to get bored—wasn’t it why his sub kept suggesting new recreational implements, because he was bored—and indulged him in more than spanking and scolding, but things like heavy bondage were intricate at times, and thus precarious.

  Gently massaging Vadim’s leg after a painful muscle contraction, Max berated himself for this accident, one of many. He shouldn’t have made the restraints so tight again, but how did you learn not to cross the thin line between good uncomfortable that enhanced an SM play and bad uncomfortable that may cause damage?

  A cramp was less serious than a sprain or strain, yet a sensation far from pleasant, so it was of little consolation to Max that it could have been worse. Seeing fresh abrasions on Vadim’s flank was equally disturbing. He’d gone too far. He hadn’t meant the ordeal to be that severe.

  “Better?” Max asked with hope as he bent Vadim’s foot inward, toward the body, trying to stretch out the cramped muscle on the back of his leg.

  “Yeah,” Vadim breathed out. “Much. Thank you.”

  Thank you. What for, exactly? For not leaving him to suffer after having inflicted this pain?

  Max suppressed a sigh. “It’ll pass soon,” he said in the most reassuring manner he could manage. “And after that, we’ll see to your flank.”

  He’d cleanse the area thoroughly with sterile gauze pads and an antiseptic. If things continued to go as badly as they had thus far, he’d soon become a medical expert who knew how to treat all kinds of accidental traumas. Not that it was a delightful prospect. Max would rather be skilled in tormenting his sub without injuring him.

  Generally, they both enjoyed experimenting. It was fun exploring how Vadim’s body reacted to different sensations. To his nipples being nibbled or pinched, his hair pulled, his buttocks clawed with nails, or his armpits tickled. It turned out he enjoyed rhythmic, repetitive spanking and relaxed into it while sporadic blows made him squirm and beg. Also, he definitely liked when Max flipped him over and bit him on the back of the neck while fucking him, like lions did when mating. The way he went weak and limp in Max’s arms, submitting to him, gave Max an empowering feeling—and a deep satisfaction at knowing what made his sub tick.

  There were some things Max had figured out he’d better avoid. For instance, slapping Vadim across the face definitely hadn’t worked out. Max had started lightly, afraid to leave Vadim with a bruise, but the way his sub had cringed at a raised hand had made him stop, though Vadim actually hadn’t told him to. Wasn’t it too much a reminder of physical abuse? Max had hesitated to ask, and Vadim hadn’t said anything. Max hated the idea that someone must have hit Vadim in the face for real. The problem was, his definition of real seemed to be blurry. How could you distinguish between rough play and assault when it came to spontaneous action?

  Max knew some general safety tips of course, like never striking the lower back, near the kidneys, or the vulnerable area of the spleen because of the injury risk. Yet, no matter how thoroughly he studied what might happen if he did this or that, scenes kept getting out of hand. It wasn’t anything life-threatening. A jammed finger, which resulted in a swelled joint. Inflamed scratches. Unwanted bruises in various places. A small burn caused by hot paraffin during wax play—Max had held a candle too close to the skin. It wasn’t lasting damage, but damage nevertheless.

  Max browsed through BDSM forums a lot, looking not for how-to manuals, like he used to, but for discussions about breaching safety rules unintentionally. It hadn’t helped much so far. The general idea was you should apologize and try your best not to screw up again if it had been just a mishap on your part.

  Was it really enough?

  Vadim never blamed Max for being incompetent. The possible reproaches existed only in Max’s head, but that was enough to make him feel in the wrong.

  He wanted to play safe, he really did. And yet he continued to miss the cues whenever he failed to do so. Was it something he would overcome with experience or would he always be that inconsiderate?

  Sometimes, Max wished he could pretend nothing bad had happened. Vadim was all right after all, wasn’t he? A cramp would pass, an abrasion would heal in due time… But suppressing the whispers of guilty conscience wasn’t that easy. What happens next? What if the harm you cause is much worse?

  At the same time, his musings remained purely theoretical. He was worried, he felt guilty, yes, but he lingered in doing anything about it, much too contented with what he had to put at risk by an awkward conversation about his ineptness. That was probably cowardice, and he knew it.

  ****

  They might have resembled an ordinary couple at times, but totally kink-free evenings were rare, despite Max’s fears and doubts. It was something they both wanted, something they couldn’t reverse from, addictive Dom/sub dynamics. Tonight, they were definitely going to scene.

  It was late and Max was fairly tired, but he knew Vadim wanted this, needed this, he was practically bursting with cheekiness to provoke something harsh, so Max decided on a play that required minimal participation on his part. It was about creating an unusual bondage predicament. Max had had it in mind for days after having stumbled over the idea on the Internet, and now that he’d obtained the necessary but simple equipment, he was ready to try it.

  A kit for “over the door bondage” consisted of two straps with soft velvet-lined wrist cuffs on one end and metal dowels similar to barbells on the other. You had to lay them over the top of any household door, with the cylindrical rods on the other side, and shut it—and there you got your restraints. You only had to attach a sub to them.

  The straps now were securely in place, and so was Vadim, his face turned to the door. Max adjusted the cuffs by fastening the Velcro tighter and then stepped away to admire the sight. He’d put the straps high, so Vadim stood on his toes, and if he wanted relief for his strained wrists, he’d have to rise up even higher. If he sagged to give his legs rest, the bonds would dig into his wrists, but hold his weight. Max had tried them. They were strong enough. The fabric of the cuffs was soft, so Max decided there wouldn’t be any real damage if Vadim balanced between the two strenuous positions for a while—bu
t not for long.

  “Stick your little ass out,” he commanded, and Vadim complied, though it put him in an even more elaborate pose.

  Max took a dildo from an otherwise empty shelf on the wall—it had been lying there on display, in all its firm glory, for Vadim to anticipate what awaited him—and nuzzled its rounded tip between Vadim’s buttocks, firmly pressing against his unprotected, already lubed anus. Vadim shuddered in his bonds and gave a small keening sound, almost a whine.

  “Looks like this greedy little hole of yours wants something inside of it,” Max observed, nudging harder. “But do you think you deserve being treated with your master’s cock, disrespectful as you’ve been tonight? No, surely you’re not that spoiled. You know you haven’t earned it.”

  He eased the dildo deeper, poking its hard and unyielding girth into the clenched hole. He breached the sphincter muscle, forced it to stretch under the relentless pressure, and Vadim involuntarily stood higher on his toes, his body trying to escape the intrusion.

  “Stop that,” Max chided him and accompanied his words with a harsh slap to his flank. “Back down. Impale yourself on it. Slowly.”

  Vadim complied—and couldn’t suppress a gasp.

  “Yeah, like that. Now stand up again … and slide down … and up … and down…”

  Vadim was now writhing on the dildo, fucking himself on it.

  “Faster,” Max demanded.

  A minute of agonized self-fucking and labored panting and Vadim’s cock became fully hard. Now and then it brushed against the surface of the door, but it wasn’t enough contact to bring him release.

  “Now hold it inside for me,” Max ordered when the dildo, short but plump, was lodged in Vadim’s to the handle that kept it in place. “Show me you strive to improve yourself. Show me a tiny bit of obedience. I’m going to leave you bound for a while, as a punishment but also because it pleases me to see you like that, helpless, and with something unpleasant up your ass. I’ll be watching you. If you want forgiveness, squeeze your ass tight, hold what’s in there, and don’t even think of rutting against the door. You’re not allowed to come.”

  Vadim made a sound of distress, yet he didn’t protest or complain.

  Max planned to keep him in this position for ten to fifteen minutes at most. It was chilly in the room tonight, and besides, standing bondage was demanding on circulation and Max didn’t want the ordeal to be excruciating, merely uncomfortable. That should be enough to subdue and pacify Vadim’s aggravated spirits. A hand job would be a sufficient reward for his obedience and would require little effort on Max’s part, which was good because he felt like he’d fall asleep any moment now.

  He lay down on the bed, still dressed, and turned onto his side so he could watch Vadim spread-eagled against the door. That was really a spectacular sight. Max wished he hadn’t been so tired. He’d gladly have more fun with Vadim while he was so deliciously vulnerable, his lithe body struggling for balance. The muscles of his buttocks looked appetizingly tense. Surely they would tighten some more if something much larger than this silicon dildo would be pushed between them. At this thought, Max’s penis gave an interested twitch, but Max was too exhausted to fulfill his fantasy tonight.

  With the upper light switched off and only the red floor lamp lit beside the bed, the room was enveloped in a pleasantly cozy glow. It was very tempting to relax. Max only closed his eyes for a moment…

  When he opened them again, he felt disoriented at first. Something had woken him up, probably some sounds coming from the outside. Maybe street cleaners were bashing ice in the street below.

  Then he heard something strange. Something like a muffled whine. And it made Max jerk up in bed. Oh! He’d fallen asleep.

  In the dim reddish light of the bedside lamp, he saw Vadim still standing in restraints by the door, or more exactly, hanging by his hands.

  In a moment, Max was by his side. He ripped open the Velcro fastening on the cuffs, one after the other, and Vadim sagged into his arms with a faint whimper, not even a groan. Max almost had to drag him to the bed because his knees had given way. He was also cold and shivering spasmodically. No wonder. He’d been standing there naked and barefoot for quite some time. Two hours maybe? A quick glance at the alarm clock on the floor confirmed Max’s worst fears.

  He’d totally passed out, lulled to sleep, and left Vadim bound and strained. How much time had passed when Vadim finally had slumped in his restraints, unable to stand on his toes anymore?

  Max hadn’t meant it this way.

  “How’d you feel?” he demanded as he eased Vadim’s shaking form onto the bed. “Numb?”

  “Hands,” Vadim uttered. “A bit.”

  “That’s from impaired circulation. Too much stress on your wrists.”

  “I couldn’t stand anymore,” Vadim muttered defensively as if Max accused him of failing the test. “I tried, but I couldn’t.”

  “Why didn’t you call out?” Max chided with equal defensiveness. “I was here, all the time. I could have freed you sooner.”

  “I know you watched me. I didn’t want to disappoint you. It’s over, isn’t it?”

  “Of course it’s over,” Max assured him automatically.

  “You forgive me then?” Vadim babbled, trying to lean in closer, fishing for a usual kiss. He still couldn’t stop trembling.

  “Yes, yes.” Max quickly pecked him on the forehead. “Now let me turn you over for a sec.”

  He tried to pull the dildo out very carefully, but the lube must have dried out, and Vadim gave a muffled grunt of distress as the thing slid free.

  “It’s all right, it’s all over now,” Max kept muttering. He tucked Vadim under a blanket and started gently massaging his hands to life, afraid to rub too vigorously. It must have been painful, but Vadim endured the ordeal without any complaints.

  Had Vadim thought his Dom had wanted him to stay like this? Had he believed it was deliberate austerity and not a mistake?

  He seemed to accept intended cruelty without questioning Max’s right to do as he pleased. Max wondered if he ought to say, “I’m sorry, I screwed up.” His sub should trust him, he should believe whatever Max chose to do, he was always in control. Admitting he wasn’t could shatter that confidence. On the other hand, if Vadim was to rely on his Dom, he should do it with his eyes open.

  Max had neglected him. Not on purpose but still.

  “Listen…” Max began. “Oh damn … I’m so sorry. It shouldn’t have happened.”

  “It’s fine,” Vadim slurred, nestling against him, still cold, like all his body heat had vaporized out of him, and heartbreakingly weak. “I’m fine. Really.”

  Max wanted to hope it was true, but he knew he was just comforting himself with another lie. Vadim was too tired and dizzy now to evaluate the situation clearly. Maybe he really believed everything was all right, thankful that his punishment was finally over. But when he’d come to his senses tomorrow, he might think differently.

  Chapter Ten

  Call the Evil by Its Name

  Let’s face it. You’re an abuser.

  Max looked at himself in the mirror above the sink, unable to find any tell-tale signs that would confirm it, any warnings that would reveal his ugly inner-self to others. Nothing sinister. No evil gleam in the eyes. Just a plain, normal face of nice man you would probably call ordinary but reliable and with no mark of evil upon him.

  And yet, and yet…

  Yesterday, he’d almost told Vadim, “I didn’t want to hurt you.” But that’s what he did. It was the point of their arrangement, wasn’t it? And he enjoyed it a lot.

  Words failed him. He couldn’t quite explain what he felt for Vadim, right from the start. He wanted to control him, punish him, fuck the hell out of him, and at the same time, to keep Vadim safe and contented. How could it all match up?

  Poorly, it seemed. He only succeeded in the first part of the package.

  He’d been carried away, obviously. Miscalculated on his ability to handle
a submissive partner. It was a huge responsibility, not just entertainment, and he knew it, but, caught in the frenzy of lust, he’d preferred to ignore the cues that he wasn’t coping.

  And look what you’ve done, Max scolded his reflection with disdain.

  After last night, Vadim had woken up with a sore throat. No wonder, considering how cold he’d been, naked in a chilly room for almost two hours. No matter how convincingly Vadim had protested that he was fit to go to work, Max had made him call and ask for a day off. Now Vadim was spending time in bed, with Max fussing around him and tending to his slightest whim. Fetching him tea and preparing a gargle for his throat, massaging his feet, or simply sitting beside him, hip to hip, and stroking his hair.

  Max was worried not only about Vadim’s physical condition, which was far from normal, but also about his emotional state. He’d thought Vadim would be angry with him, sulking at least if not shouting in fits of rage. In the night, Vadim had been too confused and weak to process the scene that had gone very, very wrong and his Dom was responsible for it, but in the daylight everything should have been pretty obvious. Except Vadim seemed almost cheerful. Somewhat over-cuddly, but he was always like that after intense scenes. Max was usually eager to provide him with extra attention and intimacy. Hugs, reassuring whispers, sharing a hot bath, or simply lying spoon-like in bed, breathing in unison. To him, it was a comforting ritual too, moving from the more polarized Dom/sub roles of play into more equal roles of mutual friendship. Sometimes, Max liked it even better than the scene itself. But now he felt like a fraud. Not a caring, considerate Dom, but a shrewd abuser who tried to smooth things over by sweet-talking his victim, surrounding his prey with sham tenderness.

  How was it possible Vadim didn’t appear to be upset in the slightest?