Turning the Tables

by Claire Thompson

  His skin tingled with anticipation, even as his gut clenched with nerves. He was starting to develop an appreciation for this concept of submissive courage Avery kept harping on. In the past, he’d always just assumed subs got off on the erotic pain because they were hardwired as masochists. But maybe there was more to it than that. He both wanted and was afraid of the biting sting of this deceptively soft leather. How easily he’d demanded that Reese and the other boys he’d used over the years accept his lash, never really thinking about what it took to submit with grace.

  Reese. He touched the thought of him like a tongue daring to probe an abscessed tooth. But instead of the shooting pain that had been a near constant in the months since Reese had left him, there remained only a lingering sadness. If he’d been a better man, would Reese still be with him?

  But if he had, Avery never would have entered his life. Was that tired old adage actually true—when one door closes, another opens? Did he have the courage to step through?

  At a red light, Avery turned to him, appraising the flogger he had cradled in his lap. “You have much experience with a flogger?” he asked, his green eyes glittering.

  “Not on the receiving end,” Hank said, managing a grin. “Maybe I’ll have you strip and I’ll cuff you in the suspension rig and we’ll see about your submissive courage,” he taunted.

  “Not going to happen,” Avery replied with a smile. Then the smile fell away. He pulled up to the red light and turned to gaze at Hank. “But that’s not what you really want, is it?”

  Hank couldn’t seem to look away from Avery’s compelling gaze. “No,” he whispered, his balls tightening. “No, Sir.”

  “No,” Avery agreed. “I didn’t think so.”

  They said nothing more for the duration of the drive. Hank was jittery with nervous anticipation.

  When they pulled up to the gate of his neighborhood, Avery lowered the window. As the guard peered in, Hank said, “It’s me, Tony.”

  “Oh, Mr. Seeley,” Tony replied. “I didn’t see you. Have a good evening. And you, too, sir,” he added, nodding at Avery.

  “Stay warm,” Avery said. The snow was falling harder, though nothing was sticking yet. They drove along the winding streets to Hank’s house and Avery pulled into the circular driveway. He turned to Hank. “Want me to come in? Or should we call it a night?”

  The thought of being left alone with his thoughts and worries terrified Hank. “Absolutely come in,” he said emphatically. He lifted the flogger. “We have to try out this thing, right?”

  “That we do,” Avery agreed with a sexy grin. “That suspension rack you mentioned should do very nicely to keep you in position while I introduce you to its pleasures. Does that suit you, Hank?”

  An involuntary shudder moved through Hank’s frame. His pulse was racing, his mouth suddenly dry. Was he really going to permit this?

  Then Avery put his large hand over Hank’s rising erection, his smile knowing. As Avery cupped Hank’s crotch, Hank met his eye, awed at the power and passion he saw there. He opened his mouth, but speech seemed to have abandoned him. All he could do was nod.

  Chapter 9

  Avery sat on the spanking bench and watched while Hank stripped, admiring the younger man’s smooth, naked body as he peeled away the black leather. When Hank did his usual, tossing the clothing into a heap on the floor, Avery pointed to the pile. “You know better than that.”

  Hank looked confused for a moment. Then he barked a sharp laugh. “What are you, the neat police?”

  “Just a grownup,” Avery said. “Those are very nice things. You should take better care of them.”

  Hank shrugged but then bent down and picked up his clothing, folding it and placing it on the bench beside Avery. When he was done, Avery grabbed him and pulled him onto his lap. Taking Hank’s face in his hands, he kissed him, leisurely exploring Hank’s mouth with his tongue.

  Hank, whose body had been coiled like a spring, relaxed as Avery kissed him, sighing softly against Avery’s mouth. Eventually, Avery let him go. He gave him a gentle push from his lap, pleased to note Hank’s rising erection.

  There was a portable A-frame suspension apparatus in the middle of the room, a pair of leather cuffs already clipped to eyebolts on either side of the apex. “I would like for you to stand under the suspension rack and lift your arms to the cuffs,” Avery said. He reached into the bag they’d brought from the club and pulled out the flogger. “I’ll introduce you to the pleasures of a proper flogging—on the receiving end,” he added with a grin.

  Hank didn’t move for a moment, and Avery could see the play of emotions on his face as he struggled with the decision of whether to obey or resist. Avery said nothing as he watched him. He knew Hank wanted this—even needed it—but he would give him the time he needed to make up his own mind.

  After several beats, Hank walked over to the rack and lifted his arms as directed. His eyes flitted nervously from Avery to the flogger to the dangling cuffs, but his cock was now fully erect.

  Avery got to his feet and shoved the handle of the flogger into the back of his jeans. Moving toward Hank, he secured his wrists, one at a time, into the waiting cuffs, admiring the curved lines of his lean, muscular arms as he did so.

  Hank blew out a breath as Avery clipped him in place. He shifted nervously on his feet and swallowed visibly. Avery walked around the naked, bound man and stepped up close to him. He pulled off his own shirt so they would be skin-to-skin and then pressed his chest against Hank’s back as he brought his arms around him. Dipping his head, he nuzzled Hank’s neck as he whispered, “Relax. You’re going to love this. I promise.”

  “What about a safeword? Don’t I need a safeword?” Hank asked, his voice a little higher than usual, no doubt from nerves. “I thought you knew what you were doing. That’s just basic BDSM 101.”

  Avery walked around to see Hank’s face. He looked nervous. “I know safewords are popular at clubs when you scene with strangers, but I never found a need for them.”

  “What do you mean?” Hank looked perplexed, even angry. “How will you know if it’s too much for me?”

  Avery smiled and placed his palm against Hank’s chest. He could feel Hank’s heart booming in his chest. Though his cock remained hard, Hank was scared. Keeping his voice gentle, Avery said reassuringly, “You’ll tell me, Hank. You’ll say stop, that’s too much, or whatever you need to say. And I’ll be checking in with you to see how you’re doing. I’ll be paying close attention to your body, I promise. I won’t give you more than you can handle.”

  “But you don’t know that,” Hank said, his speech rushed and anxious. “I think I need a safeword. That’s part of the whole safe, sane, consensual thing.”

  Avery nodded. “Okay, Hank. If that makes you comfortable, tell me what your safeword is.”

  Hank frowned. “I don’t have one. I’m a Dom. I mean,” he amended, his face flushing pink, “I’ve always been a Dom so I don’t know. I don’t have one.”

  “Okay,” Avery said again. “Let’s pick one. Any ideas?”

  “Um. Porsche. Let’s use that,” Hank said.

  “Fine. Porsche.” Avery pulled out the flogger from the waist of his jeans and ran his fingers through the tresses as the delicious scent of oiled leather filled his nostrils. He moved to stand behind Hank. “I’m going to start nice and slow. I’ll warm your skin first—get you used to the feel of it. Then I’ll steadily increase the intensity. You are free to say anything you want. No need to power your way through this. What I really want is for you to embrace the erotic pain. To take in and fully experience the warming brush of leather and then its stinging kiss.”

  “How many strokes?” Hank asked, his voice still a little tremulous.

  “Excuse me?”

  “How many strokes? Do I count out loud?”

  Avery shook his head, though Hank couldn’t see him. “No counting. No set number of strokes. We’re going to explore this together, Hank. We’ll play it by ear and se
e where it takes us, okay?”

  “Okay,” Hank said, his tone dubious. His hands, Avery noted, were clenched into fists above the cuffs.

  Avery put the flogger handle back into the waist of his jeans and moved closer behind Hank. He lifted his arms along Hank’s arms and closed his hands gently over Hank’s fists. “I need you to relax, Hank,” he said gently, his mouth close to Hank’s ear. “Uncurl your fingers and take some deep, slow breaths. If this is too much right now, we can do it another time.”

  “No,” Hank said quickly. “I-I want it. I’m just…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but Avery knew what he had wanted to say.

  “You’re just afraid,” Avery completed for him. “And that’s perfectly understandable. You’re trusting me a lot right now, and that’s new for you. You’ve let me cuff your wrists, so you can’t get away without my permission and help. Even though you want to see what it’s like to be flogged, it’s scary to be so vulnerable with someone else.”

  Avery pressed his lips lightly against the back of Hank’s neck, leaving a trail of kisses along his skin. “I’ll be right here with you, every step of the way. If you want this, then I want to give it to you. I’m proud of the trust you’re placing in me right now, and I plan to be worthy of it. I promise.”

  Hank blew out a long breath, his hunched shoulders relaxing a little. “Okay,” he said. “Don’t forget—Porsche.”

  “I won’t.” Avery stepped back and pulled out the flogger again, eager to get started. He flicked the flogger experimentally in the air, excitement and desire heating his blood and making his cock hard. As promised, he started slowly, just brushing the dozens of soft suede thongs over Hank’s ass, thighs, shoulders and back until Hank fully relaxed. Slowly, he increased the intensity of the strokes, savoring the erotic sound of leather slapping skin.

  “How’re you doing?” he queried.

  “Good,” Hank breathed. “It feels good. Warm. Nice.”

  “It does,” Avery agreed. “Ready for a little more?”

  Hank paused a moment but then said, “Yeah. I think so.”

  Avery took a step to the side and let the flogger land squarely over Hank’s small, muscular ass, putting a little muscle into his swing.

  “Ah,” Hank cried. “That hurts.”

  “That’s a good thing,” Avery soothed. “It’s a good pain, right?”

  “Um. I don’t know. Try it again?”

  Grinning to himself, Avery complied, this time letting the flogger slap against Hank’s upper back between his shoulders.

  “Ah,” Hank cried again.

  “More?” Avery asked.

  “Yes, please,” Hank whispered.

  Keeping himself in check, Avery covered Hank’s back, ass and thighs with a steady barrage of stinging leather, hard enough to redden his skin but not hard enough to leave any lasting marks.

  Hank no longer cried out. His breath came fast, his chest heaving, his feet doing a nervous little dance on his toes. Each time Avery asked him how he was doing, Hank breathlessly said he was doing good.

  Slowly, carefully, Avery ratcheted the intensity until Hank was taking a significant flogging. Avery paused a moment and leaned in, stroking Hank’s heated skin with his free hand. “You okay?” he murmured, leaning down to Hank’s ear. “Want me to stop or to continue?” Hank’s cock, he could see, was fully erect, a drop of pre-come on its tip.

  “More,” Hank said throatily. “I want more.”

  Thrilled, Avery complied, putting more heft into his swing, his own cock as hard as Hank’s.

  Then it happened—that beautiful miracle that never failed to thrill Avery to his bones. He was mildly shocked that such a novice could achieve this state from a simple flogging. It only affirmed his belief that Hank was submissive in his core, and had needed what Avery so wanted to give him.

  Hank had stopped dancing on his toes, his feet going flat as his breathing deepened and slowed. His head fell back, his lips parting, his eyes fluttering closed. He was no longer processing the erotic pain as something to be endured. It had been transformed into something infinitely more powerful and satisfying.

  Avery felt deeply connected to Hank in that moment, the flogger a conduit between them that let him fly along with Hank in that sacred, special state a sub could achieve when they fully embraced the experience.

  “Yes,” he breathed softly. He continued to flog Hank’s heated skin, though he eased the intensity until eventually he was again just caressing Hank’s skin with the soft leather. Finally, he set down the flogger and pressed his body against Hank’s from behind as he reached up to release his wrists from the cuffs. He guided Hank’s arms down to his sides.

  Hank’s knees buckled and he started to sag to the ground. Avery caught him and lifted him into his arms. Hank opened his eyes as Avery carried him to the bed. “Whoa,” Hank said, a look of startled wonderment moving over his face. “What the hell just happened?”

  “You submitted with grace and courage, that’s what,” Avery said, smiling down at Hank as he laid him gently on the bed. “I told you, Hank. You’re a natural.”

  Hank’s smile was beatific. “I am, huh? Who knew?”

  “We both knew,” Avery said softly as he lay down beside him. “We just needed a little time to prove it.”

  ~*~

  Hank opened his eyes, confused for a moment as to where he was. Sun was coming into his eyes from an unfamiliar angle. He lifted his head and saw he was in the playroom, but Avery was no longer beside him. They’d made slow, sweet love after that amazing flogging. Hank had taken a while to come back to himself from wherever Avery had taken him. He’d lain cradled in Avery’s big, strong arms, drifting in a kind of nirvana. He had no clear concept of what had happened, but it had come over him like a rising tide, finally engulfing him in its power. One minute he had been freaking out, nearly hyperventilating as he held his new safeword in his mouth, ready to spit it out if things got any more intense.

  But then something wonderful had happened. It was way better than alcohol or even seriously good hashish. It was the high without the hardness, without the edge of desperation or the invariable crash afterward.

  As Avery continued to whip him, Hank could still feel the swish and stroke of the flogger, but the stinging pain of a moment ago was gone. A deep, pervading sense of utter wellbeing had risen up from his toes, moving through his entire body and wrapping his spirit in a soft, warm blanket of peace.

  Afterward, the lovemaking had been powerful and delicious as Avery had lifted himself over Hank and slowly, sensually entered him, all the while staring into his soul. As he’d made love to him, Avery had stroked Hank’s hard shaft until they had both exploded. Hank had never experienced such intensity or closeness, as if they’d somehow merged together during that moment in time.

  But where was Avery now?

  Hank sat up, looking around the room as if Avery might be hiding somewhere. His gaze landed on a small, folded piece of paper on the pillow beside him. He reached for the paper and smoothed it open.

  In a strong, angular hand, Avery had written: “I have a job this morning on a construction site. You were sleeping so soundly that I hated to wake you. See you soon. Avery.”

  Hank flopped back into the bed, smiling. How amazing that his personal life, in shambles since Reese had abandoned him, was suddenly, sparklingly full of hope and possibility. Everything was right in his world.

  And then he remembered. Not everything. There was the rather huge detail of his trust being revoked by his bastard of a father. He needed to find out what was really going on, instead of relying solely on the words of Doug Gardner.

  Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he got to his feet and walked over to the pile of clothing still on the spanking bench. Reaching into his pants pocket, he pulled out his cell. It was only nine o’clock, too early, hopefully, for Sandra to be drunk yet.

  He pulled up her number in his contacts and connected the call. After several rings, Sandra answere
d. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Mom. It’s me.”

  “Hank? Is that you?” Sandra always answered like that, as if she were confused about who it might be, or couldn’t quite remember he was her son. But she sounded reasonably sober, at least.

  “Yes, Mom,” Hank replied patiently. “It’s me. How’re you doing?”

  “Oh, I’m fine. Everything’s fine,” Sandra replied, as she always did. She could have just been robbed and stabbed, and she’d still claim everything was fine. It was exasperating. “How are you, dear? I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

  “How can you say everything is fine, Mom? What’s going on with Dad and the business? Doug Gardner called to tell me Dad’s being investigated for tax fraud among other things, and that the IRS has frozen the accounts. He said my trust has been revoked. What the hell?”

  “Oh, yes,” his mom said vaguely. “It is a regrettable state of affairs, but I’m sure he’ll work it all out. You know I don’t get involved in all those tedious business affairs. Just a minute, dear.” He heard muffled conversation and then his mother was back on the line. “I have to go. I have a brunch to attend. That nice girl, Sally Wasserman, is finally getting married. It’s too bad that you…” She trailed off, heaving a large sigh.

  His parents had only grudgingly accepted that he was gay. His mother continued to sigh histrionically about the fact she’d never have grandchildren, even though he’d explained that gay men could get a surrogate or adopt these days, not that he could imagine himself married.

  “Is Dad around?” Hank dared to ask, though he hadn’t spoken directly to his father in some time. Henry had made it abundantly clear that he didn’t approve of Hank’s lifestyle or the fact that he’d never taken an interest in the family construction business. Hank had considered it wise to keep a low profile, but drastic times called for drastic measures, even directly confronting his father about what the hell was going on.