Turning the Tables

by Claire Thompson

  When he got Hank into the bedroom, he pushed him facedown onto the bed and quickly climbed over him, straddling him as he brought Hank’s arms behind his back. Hank was breathing hard but had stopped struggling.

  Leaning over Hank, still holding his arms in place, Avery said softly, “Hank, I’m going to help you calm down with bondage and a good, hard spanking.” He waited a beat for Hank to protest, but Hank said nothing.

  Pleased, Avery let go of Hank’s wrists. He lay down beside him and slid his arms beneath Hank’s body. He rolled them both to their sides, spooning Hank. Hank was rigid in his arms, his chest heaving, anger still radiating from him like a forcefield.

  Keeping one arm around Hank, Avery used his free hand to stroke Hank’s cheek and chest as he nuzzled Hank’s neck. “Shh, it’s okay, kiddo,” he soothed. “I got you now. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  Eventually, the rigidity left Hank’s limbs, his breathing slowing. Avery kissed his neck. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said. “I’m going to let you up now so you can get naked. Then you’ll lie facedown on the bed again, your arms behind your back. I’m going to bind you with rope, both wrists and ankles, and then I’m going to put you over my knee. We’ll get all the toxins out with a good, thorough spanking. If you handle it well, I’ll reward you afterward.” This time he did seek Hank’s direct acceptance. “Okay, Hank?”

  He released his hold as he waited for Hank’s reply. If he jumped up and refused, Avery would leave it at that. While he was certain his prescription would cure what ailed Hank, he wasn’t going to force him—not ever.

  “Okay,” Hank finally said, his voice nearly a whisper.

  Avery rolled away from him as Hank sat up and got to his feet. He watched from the bed as Hank pulled the overlarge T-shirt over his head and stepped out of the baggy shorts. He was pleased when Hank actually picked up the items and folded them neatly over the chair without being asked. Progress, not perfection, was the goal here.

  Avery got to his feet as Hank lay down on the bed again. He pulled out his bondage ropes from the bureau and returned to the bed. He stripped out of his clothing so that he, too, was naked. Hank was watching him, his expression difficult to read.

  Leaning over the bed, Avery bound Hank’s wrists together at the small of his back, noting Hank’s soft sigh of pleasure and relief as the rope wound around him. His tensed muscles relaxed, his eyes fluttering closed.

  As Avery had known it would, the bondage provided comfort and safety, like a baby being swaddled. Hank was absolutely a sub. There was no question in Avery’s mind. It must be a relief to finally shuck the false Dom persona he’d been wearing for the world for so long.

  Avery moved to the end of the bed with the second coil of rope and set about binding Hank’s legs together at the ankle. When he was done, he leaned over Hank and lifted the bound, naked man into his arms. Turning with him, he sat on the edge of the mattress and draped Hank over his knees, facedown.

  “Now,” he said, his cock rising in anticipation of his task. “We begin.”

  ~*~

  Hank couldn’t deny it—the soft but strong rope around his wrists and ankles had a peculiar, immediate effect on his mood. The agitated, restless anger, while not gone, had been cocooned somehow by the snug of the rope. He couldn’t struggle and so he’d let go, and what a relief that was. For a while, at least, he didn’t have to think or make any decisions. He just had to be.

  The proximity of their naked bodies—skin on skin—was arousing in and of itself, and his cock hardened despite the promise of a “thorough spanking.” Hank had never spanked the sub boys he played with as a way of calming them, and the idea seemed a strange one. When he spanked his boys, it had been for punishment, though it was play punishment, since the masochist in them got off on the erotic pain. But the interplay had always been about power at its core, and he had been the one in control.

  But Avery was a different kind of Dom. He didn’t demand submission or wrest power from someone weaker, as Hank had always done. Somehow, he made you want to submit, freely and without reservation. It was about more than getting off, more than sex. It was about… He wasn’t sure what it was about, precisely, but it was different than anything he’d experienced before. And while it was scary, he liked it. And he wanted to understand it better.

  He thought about that first spanking—how Avery had called it a punishment, “the good kind.” And, ironically, even though he’d been angry and afraid at the time, it had been good. At least, he’d felt good afterward—his mind blissfully emptied, for a little while.

  He closed his eyes and sighed as Avery stroked and kneaded his flesh with a gentle, soothing touch. Tears pricked his lids again. He was tired—so tired. He had no idea what he was going to do with himself, now that his wealth had been suddenly and dramatically stripped away.

  Don’t think about it, he urged himself. Just be in this moment, right here, with this sexy, kind bear who is going to give you a thorough spanking.

  Avery’s hand was big, and when the first blow fell with stinging force, it covered a significant portion of Hank’s bared, offered ass. Hank tensed and hissed his pain at the unexpected smack.

  “Flow with it,” Avery rumbled in his deep bass. “Embrace the pain and let it cleanse you. Use your breath as a way to process the pain. Take a deep breath and let it out slowly.”

  Hank didn’t really understand what it meant to flow with or process pain. But he did as he was told, drawing in a breath and holding it a moment before letting it out.

  “Good,” Avery said, his praise sending a warm rush of happiness through Hank’s lingering misery and fear.

  Avery’s hand came down again, harder than the first time. It hurt like hell, and yet Hank’s cock responded with a tingling rush, his balls tightening with pleasure.

  “Breathe,” Avery urged.

  Hank drew in another breath and as he expelled it, the hand crashed down again, catching him on both cheeks. Then came a steady barrage of hard, stinging swats. On and on it went, Avery’s cupped palm relentless as it covered every inch of Hank’s ass and the backs of his thighs.

  Hank struggled at first, unable to remain still as the smacking blows continued. He jerked against his restraints, sweat slicking his skin, his breath a ragged pant.

  “You need this. You know you do,” he heard Avery say over the pounding of his heart beating in his ears. “Stop resisting, kiddo.”

  The tenderness in Avery’s voice undid him more than the stinging sear of the blows, and Hank began to silently cry. The tears weren’t flowing because of pain. The emotion was bigger than simply a reaction to the physical stimulus of a spanking. Part of it was exhaustion. He’d drunk way more than was good for him the night before, and then slept a heavy, drugged sleep that hadn’t left him feeling rested. And part of it was relief—relief that Avery was in his life. For some crazy reason, Avery wanted to be with him, and to care for him, even when they both knew he didn’t deserve it.

  His body had gone limp. Only his cock remained hard as steel, throbbing against Avery’s strong, sturdy thigh. Yet, even while the tears continued to stream from his eyes, something inside him was opening and softening—yielding completely to what Avery was giving him. “Yes,” he breathed, the word choked with a sudden, involuntary sob. “Yes, please.”

  What was he asking for? He wasn’t sure. He just knew this mustn’t stop. Not yet. His body had lightened somehow, as if gravity’s force no longer applied. Each stroke of Avery’s hard palm lightened his being until he felt as if he were levitating, his body rising to meet each stinging, welcome blow.

  He drifted in a place that was bright and clean. He was aware that the spanking still continued, but he no longer felt the pain. As Avery’s heavy hand pushed him against his thighs, the friction stimulated Hank’s rock-hard cock, adding a layer of pure, raw pleasure to the lightness of being.

  Yes. Yes. Yes, yes, yes…

  He had no idea if he was speaking that repea
ted word aloud, but it echoed in his mind as his heart lifted and his spirit soared. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes…” He rose into the blank, sweet nothingness of pure sensation, finally at peace…

  When he opened his eyes, Hank found himself cradled in Avery’s arms, Avery regarding him with a gentle smile. They were lying on the bed, face-to-face. The ropes were gone. “Hey, you,” Avery said softly. “You drifted away. Glad you’re back. You feeling better?” He reached out a hand and gently wiped the lingering tears from Hank’s cheeks with his thumb.

  Hank’s body still felt light, though his ass was now stinging, the skin on fire. His spirit felt light as well, if that even made any sense. He smiled without meaning to and reached out his own hand to stroke Avery’s short, soft beard. “Much better,” he said, laughing a little for sheer joy. “I feel…amazing. I don’t even know how to explain it.”

  “It’s all right,” Avery replied, his own smile widening. “You don’t have to explain. I was right there with you. We were in the circle together and it was perfect.”

  “The circle?” Hank asked, puzzled.

  “The D/s circle. That’s how I think of it when a Dom and sub truly connect. It’s not a straight line where one person gives the other something, or does something specific to them, and they just passively receive it. BDSM is a circle of give and take. I give you the gift of erotic pain and bondage, and you give it back to me with your submission and grace. When that happens—that connection—I can feel what you’re feeling, and it’s amazing. We complement each other. BDSM isn’t something you can do alone. I think of it like a dance, moving in a circle, holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes.”

  Before he’d met this amazing man, Hank would have laughed derisively at what he would have thought of as sappy teenage drivel. But Avery’s words touched him in a way he hadn’t expected. He drew in a breath, awed at Avery’s description. Was he talking about…love? Hank wanted to ask, but didn’t dare.

  “You really are a romantic, aren’t you?” he said instead.

  Avery smiled. “I guess so. I think you are, too, underneath that hard shell you like to show the world. I got a glimpse just now, Hank, when all your shields were down.”

  Hank thought about this. Again, the old Hank would have bristled at being called a romantic, since he would have equated it with being weak—a loser who believed in love, an emotion that, until now, Hank didn’t believe truly existed.

  “Sir,” Hank said suddenly, not trying to keep the awe from his voice. “You’re my Sir. That’s what this is. That’s what I’m feeling.”

  Avery cocked a quizzical eyebrow. “I’m your Sir?” he repeated.

  “Yes!” Hank sat up, excited. “I get it now. That’s what this is. I always thought I was a Dom—the one in control. And I thought a Dom took power because he could. But you’re different. You don’t take power. You make someone—me—want to give you that power. That’s what you mean by the circle, isn’t it?” Hank rushed on excitedly. “You give me what I need and I respond by giving you my submission and gratitude, and this pleases you and gives you what you need. It’s not just about one person conquering or claiming or controlling the other. We both get something from this and that completes the circle!”

  “By George,” Avery said in a theatrical British accent, “I think he’s got it.”

  They both laughed.

  Avery sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Now, let me just put some Arnica on that sweet, hot little ass of yours. You took quite a spanking.”

  Hank lay on his stomach as Avery smoothed the soothing balm into his still-tender flesh. As Avery worked, he said, “Now that you’re feeling better, we’ll talk about your situation and come up with some ideas for what you do next. The good news is, you’re young, strong, bright and able. You have a college degree. You should be able to get any number of decent jobs, though you’ll have to start at entry level, of course.”

  “A job?” Hank replied, some of his happiness slipping away. “I’ve never held a job in my life.”

  Avery chuckled. “Welcome to the real world. It’s time to face the music.”

  Chapter 11

  “Here’s something.” Hank turned Avery’s laptop so Avery could see the classified ad. Avery had wanted him to start the job search sooner, but Hank had needed some time to process the idea. His concept of himself had never included having to slog through a nine to five grind. He’d always thought he was above that kind of thing.

  They’d spent several nights together over the course of the week, and each time they were together, Avery took him on a new “submissive journey” as Avery called them. Along with the intense BDSM play, including bondage, whippings and his favorite—a bare-handed spanking as he lay over Avery’s big, solid thighs—Avery also gave him exercises to practice.

  Some were simple, like lowering himself to his knees with grace, and then rising without the use of his hands in one fluid motion. Others were more difficult, like allowing Avery to take him right to the edge of orgasm, but then learning to control himself so that he didn’t ejaculate until he had asked for and received permission—permission which wasn’t always immediately forthcoming.

  Hank had fucked that up a few times, his body betraying him in spite of his best efforts to obey. As punishment, Avery had made him stand in front of a wall and hold ten pennies against it, one beneath each finger and thumb, for a full five minutes. He’d almost made it, too, but an itch on his nose had been too much to resist. Another punishment had been to lick up his own jism when he’d come without permission.

  He’d refused outright at first, and Avery hadn’t forced him. But then, slowly, hesitantly, he’d scooped up a little of the pearly goo from his belly and placed it on his tongue. After all, he’d swallowed plenty of other guys’ come, so what was the big deal, really? The big deal, he’d come to understand, was that he was doing something he wouldn’t do on his own and didn’t want to do, but then decided to do because his Dom wished it for him. Oddly, that had been enough, and he’d licked his fingers clean.

  In between their bouts of hot, sexy BDSM play, they’d done things like go grocery shopping and cook meals together. Hank wasn’t used to doing those things for himself. That had been one of the houseboy’s jobs. Since Julio had quit on him, he’d had his food delivered or did takeout.

  Doing the whole domestic thing with Avery had been kind of fun, to Hank’s surprise. Avery had subjected Hank to some good-natured ribbing, amused that Hank didn’t know such basic things like how to make pasta or mop a floor. “That’s what maids are for,” Hank had explained to a laughing Avery.

  Over the course of the week, when Avery tried to talk to him about his financial situation and what he was doing about getting a job, Hank had mostly successfully avoided the topic.

  But today Avery had the day off. He sat Hank down and stated in no uncertain terms that he’d had enough time to process his situation, and it wasn’t going to fix itself. He had opened his laptop and the search began, whether Hank liked it or not.

  Avery was right. It was time to pull his head out of the sand. Things weren’t going to change, and the money he’d scrounged from around the house wasn’t going to last much longer. Even the sale of his artwork would only provide a temporary solution.

  They sat side-by-side at Avery’s kitchen table, the laptop between them as they scanned the local want ads. They had been at it a while, but so far Hank had refused to consider the various menial labor positions Avery kept showing him. After all, he had a college degree.

  “Vice president of sales, starting salary fifty-two thousand,” Avery read aloud. He lifted his eyebrows. “Uh, that’s a little ambitious, don’t you think?”

  “What?” Hank demanded defensively. “It says college degree required, and I’ve got that. Admittedly, I majored in frat house parties and getting stoned, but at least I graduated.” He tried to laugh but didn’t quite manage it. “Anyway, it’s for a car dealership. I know a lot about cars.” />
  “Do you know a lot about, let’s see…” Avery started to read from the site. “…overseeing and verifying the reporting of sales and marketing activities, including leads generated. Tracking reports, sales orders received, sales by product, backlog reports and customer lists and determining appropriate reporting frequency, such as weekly, monthly, and quarterly basis.” He looked over at Hank, a skeptical grin on his face. “And that’s just for starters. They also expect you to”—he read again from the screen—“develop and implement an overall marketing and sales strategy for company products, including pricing and customer service policies and advertising programs. Develop marketing action plans that clearly define objectives, goals, schedules and—”

  “Okay, okay!” Hank shouted, interrupting him. “So, what are you saying? You expect me to be a greeter at Walmart? I’ve never even been in a fucking Walmart. Or do you see me behind the counter at McDonald’s, asking some snot-nosed kid if he wants fries with that?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with either of those jobs, Hank,” Avery replied seriously. “You have to start somewhere. And yeah, the college degree is good, eventually. It gives you a chance to advance into management that someone without a degree doesn’t have. But first you have to prove yourself.”

  “I have to get in the door to be able to do that,” Hank said dispiritedly. Then he brightened. “Maybe I can just fudge my experience a little. Pretend I’ve had some cool jobs.”

  “Bad idea,” Avery replied decisively. “That kind of shit always comes back to bite you in the ass. Trust me, it’s not worth it. Look what’s happening with your dad right now. I don’t think that’s who you want to be.”

  Who you want to be…

  Who did Hank want to be?

  He wanted to be a man Avery could love and respect. But how could Avery possibly respect him if he ended up being a greeter at Walmart? Yet, Avery had started somewhere and now he was a partner in his own business, albeit a start-up.