Turning the Tables

by Claire Thompson

  “Hank, I—” Reese began.

  “No, please,” Hank interrupted. “I have to finish. Just let me say this. You deserve a full apology.”

  Reese nodded. “Okay,” he said softly.

  They were all watching him, but not with fury or indignation, as he probably deserved, but with encouraging expressions, as if they were all rooting for him. Finding courage in this, Hank continued, “Before I met Avery, I spent my whole life acting like the world owed me, while I owed it nothing in return. When you left me, I kept my blinders on, only seeing what I wanted to see and refusing to take responsibility for my own actions.

  “Even though I had everything, materially speaking, I was so fucking miserable because my heart was empty and my mind was closed. On some level, I knew you and I were growing apart long before Luca entered the picture. But I was too invested and selfish to even consider letting you be with someone else.”

  “I get it,” Reese said. “Since we were kids, it was you and me against the world.”

  “Yeah,” Hank agreed. “I was always fighting some war that existed only in my head. In retrospect, your leaving me, and even Dad’s kicking me to the curb were the best things that could ever have happened to me. If things had stayed as they were, I wouldn’t have met Avery. I wouldn’t have turned my life around.”

  “Wow,” Reese breathed, a stunned expression on his face. “I have to say, I never thought I’d see this day. You’re amazing, Hank. You’ve clearly made major changes in your life, and all for the better. And for what it’s worth”—he glanced at Luca and then back at Hank—“you weren’t the only one who behaved badly. I was right there with you for way too long. We were both at war with the world back then. It’s good that we’ve put down our weapons and found love instead, right?”

  “Right,” Hank whispered, blinking away tears.

  “This is getting awfully corny,” Luca said with a wide grin. “Can you believe these guys, Avery?”

  Avery laughed. “Corny isn’t always a bad thing,” he said, putting his arm around Hank’s shoulders.

  The waitress appeared with their desserts and the check. Hank put his hand firmly over the bill. He wanted to pay for the meal with money he’d actually earned with his own two hands. “I got this,” he said, daring any of them to contradict him. No one did.

  Reese took a bite of his cheesecake and looked at Avery. “You know, I never thought I’d see the day when Hank Seeley became someone’s submissive. So, tell us, Avery. How did you two meet?”

  Avery glanced at Hank and grinned. “That, my friends, is a whole other kettle of fish.”

  Chapter 16

  “I did it,” Hank cried triumphantly, waving his cell phone at Avery as he burst into the brewery. “I got an interview with the bank! They want me to come in on Wednesday.”

  The weather was perfect for April, the temperature in the seventies with the sun warm overhead, the mountain air fresh. Hank had just come off his shift at Snappy Lube. Avery and Nolan both looked up from their work. “Hey, that’s great,” Avery said, grinning broadly.

  “Congrats,” Nolan added.

  Avery took off his apron. “Your timing is good. We were just finishing up for the day. We should go out and celebrate later tonight.” He turned to Nolan. “Want to join us?”

  “Sorry,” Nolan said with a smile. “I have a date with Melanie.”

  “Getting serious, huh?” Avery said.

  Nolan’s smile broadened into a grin. “I sure hope so.”

  “Good for you,” Hank added. He liked Nolan.

  Upstairs in their loft, Avery and Hank showered together. Afterward, while Avery was checking his email, Hank brought out the surprise he’d stowed under the bed. It was too early for them to go out yet, but Hank had a different sort of celebration in mind. He approached Avery, who was sitting in his recliner in only his boxers, tapping away on his laptop keyboard. Still naked, Hank lowered himself to his knees in a presentation pose, the surprise resting on his open palms while he waited for his Dom to notice him.

  After a while, Avery looked up and smiled. When he saw what Hank was holding, his eyes widened. “Whoa. Where’d you get that?”

  “I bought it last week. I’ve been waiting for the right moment. I’m ready, Avery. I want it. I really do.”

  Avery reached out and took the cane from Hank’s hands. He stroked the thin, polished rod of rattan and gripped the black suede handle. “I don’t know, Hank. The cane’s not for everyone.”

  Hank loved the passion of their BDSM play. The spankings were as sexual to him as any direct stroking of his cock. He loved to be flogged, and adored the bondage, safe and secure in rope and leather. But he was ready for more. And ever since he’d stumbled on a hot caning video online, he’d been fascinated with the idea.

  In the video, a man had been bound by his wrists to a clothing rack in a hotel room. He was naked, his back to the camera. The guy’s partner, dressed in black leather pants, his heavily tattooed chest bare, proceeded to cover the sub’s ass and thighs in long, red welts. Hank had watched it over and over, riveted to the exciting, terrifying scene, his skin tingling in sympathy and longing. He’d been both shocked and aroused by the intensity of the scene. The guy was totally into the caning, his moans echoing as much pleasure as suffering.

  When Hank showed the video to Avery the week before, Avery had said, “Yeah, that’s pretty hot, I agree. But I don’t like the way there was no buildup. He just whaled right into the guy without giving him any time to adjust.”

  “So,” Hank had replied eagerly, “you have experience with a cane?”

  “I do,” Avery had admitted. “Though it’s been a while.”

  Now Avery flicked his wrist, making the cane arc and bend through the air with a slicing whoosh. Hank’s gut clenched involuntarily at the sound, but at the same time, his cock hardened. “Please, Avery,” Hank pleaded. “This is something I want to try. I want to feel the sting of that cane. I want you to mark me. I trust you with my life. If it’s not right for us, we’ll both know it. Please?”

  Avery regarded him, his expression serious as he seemed to weigh Hank’s words. Finally, he nodded once and got to his feet. “Okay, then. We’ll try it. I have to admit,” he added with a sexy grin, “I’d enjoy painting some welts on that hot little ass of yours. Let’s go to the bedroom. I’ll have you lie down this first time so you can relax into it.”

  Hank rose from the floor, his heart kicking up a notch. It would definitely be easier to take his first caning while lying on a comfortable bed, but he doubted he’d be able to relax. The image of the man in the video flashed before him, sweating, writhing and crying out as the cane left its fiery marks.

  Yes, he wanted to experience it, but was he really ready? Could you ever be ready for such a thing? He thought about something he’d read while perusing the internet for more knowledge of caning. A submissive woman had written in her blog that she didn’t actually like being caned—what she liked was having been caned. She loved the afterglow, and the thrill of acknowledging she’d allowed it, endured it and exulted from it. Hank was pretty sure he knew just what she meant—it wasn’t the pain per se, but what came with it and after it—what you could achieve when you let yourself fully experience it.

  And beneath his trepidation was the solid certainty that Avery would take him only as far as he was ready to go. He lay facedown on the bed. Resting his cheek against the soft quilt, he closed his eyes.

  Avery stood beside the bed. “I’m going to start slow. I want to warm your skin to get you ready. But be aware, no matter how ready I get you, the first real stroke is always a shock. Just do what I’ve taught you—breathe through it and embrace the pain. Don’t fight it. Take it inside yourself.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Hank said softly, his heart pounding with anticipation.

  True to his word, Avery started gently, just a light tapping over the surface of Hank’s ass and the backs of his thighs. Intermittently, he put down the cane to stroke and m
assage Hank’s ass, his touch, as always, igniting Hank’s lust and stiffening his cock. When he resumed the warmup, the light sting was arousing without being painful.

  After a while, he struck a little harder, a rain of tiny, sharp taps that pulled Hank from the lull he’d sunk into. As it always did, the erotic fear triggered a chemical reaction in his body, heightening his awareness and amplifying sensation.

  “You’re ready now, Hank. I’m going to deliver the first real stroke. Remember—breathe.”

  In spite of himself, Hank tensed. There was a split-second whistle and then shock radiated through Hank’s nerve endings, the sudden, brutal stroke taking his breath away. “Fuck,” he moaned as the pain radiated in a long, fiery line across his flesh.

  “It’s beautiful,” Avery breathed from above him. “A lovely welt. Do you want another, sub boy?”

  The crazy thing was, yes, he did! In spite of the pain, because of the pain, he didn’t really understand his own reaction, but yes, he wanted more, and he wanted it now. “Yes, please, Sir,” he said breathlessly. “Another, please.”

  Avery struck him again, a parallel line just below the first. Hank gasped and then slowly released his breath, focused on controlling his fear and embracing the gift of erotic pain. He lifted his ass, silently begging for another.

  “How’re you doing?” Avery asked, stopping a moment to stroke Hank’s ass.

  “Good, Sir,” Hank answered. “It hurts like hell, but it’s so perfect. It’s so right. I feel like I’ve just won a marathon. It’s crazy.”

  “It’s the endorphins. And it’s your nature. You were born for this.” Avery started again with the light, steady tapping. This time he increased the intensity more quickly. When the next stroke landed, Hank gasped, his muscles tensing.

  “Relax,” Avery urged. “Breathe. You’re doing great. You’re amazing. Shall we continue?”

  “Yes, please, Sir.”

  The next stroke caught Hank just where his ass met his thigh. He yelped as the pain arced with lightning speed through his nerve endings. Sweat broke out over his skin. “More,” he begged, panting. “More, please, Sir.”

  Again the cane whooshed through the air and made contact. Pain sliced its way along Hank’s skin, the burn of its heat bursting into a smoldering flame of lust below the surface. His heart hammered, his cock throbbing, balls tight. The strokes cut with a sharp, defined pain, so different from the heavy, warm sensation of Avery’s big, strong hands during a spanking or the soft, leathery thud of the flogger. The cane was more demanding, more exacting, but every bit as powerful.

  As Avery had taught him, Hank focused on opening himself to the pain, rather than trying to shut it out. He worked to flow with each biting stroke of rattan against flesh. He sank into the mattress, no longer resisting, completely open to the pleasure and the pain, inextricably braided into one perfect sensation. His breathing slowed and deepened, and his connection to Avery transcended the physical. It was as if they were joined together by an invisible but powerful force, the electricity thrumming between them like a live wire.

  Warmth flowed through his limbs, his entire body melting despite the continued strike of the cane. His spirit soared, tethered to the earth only by the sound of Avery’s voice. “Oh, yes, Hank. Yes. That’s it. You’re there. You’re perfect.”

  The mattress gave as Avery sat down beside him. He placed a calming hand on Hank’s back as Hank continued to drift in that peaceful, lovely place. He sighed with pleasure as Avery soothed balm over the throbbing welts. After a while, Avery pushed gently at Hank’s hip so that he turned on his side. Avery gripped Hank’s hard shaft in a sure hand. Hank opened his eyes to smile at his big ginger bear of a Dom.

  Avery smiled back, still cradling Hank’s shaft in his hand. “You were right, Hank,” he said, his eyes shining. “You were ready for the cane. I gave you ten beautiful welts. I’m in awe of your submission and your grace. Now, I want you to come for me.”

  As Avery stroked his shaft, Hank rocked against Avery’s hand. It felt so good that he wanted to make it last, but he was too aroused to hold on for long. Within minutes, Hank climaxed in a mind-blowing rush, thrusting and grunting with each spasm of release.

  Avery lay down beside him, his huge cock tenting his boxers. With a renewed spurt of energy fueled by the desire to satisfy his lover, Hank lifted himself from his post-orgasmic torpor and crouched between Avery’s legs. He tugged at the waist of Avery’s boxers, looking up for permission. Avery nodded, lifting his hips a little so Hank could pull them off. Tossing the boxers aside, he fisted Avery’s sizable cock and stroked him rough, just the way Avery liked it.

  Avery moaned his approval. After a few minutes, he tapped Hank on the shoulder and said in a throaty voice, “I want to fuck you, Hank. Straddle me so I can see your face and lower yourself onto my cock.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Hank breathed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He reached for the tube of lube they kept beside the bed. His eyes on Avery’s face, he squeezed a dollop of the lubricant onto his fingers and reached back to coat his asshole. Using his lube-slick hand, he stroked Avery’s cock as he straddled his hips.

  Gripping the base of Avery’s shaft, Hank lowered himself carefully onto it, savoring the hard press as Avery filled him.

  Avery reached for Hank’s hips, guiding him downward until Hank was impaled on his lover’s shaft. The welts stung pleasantly. His balls tight with need, his heart filled with love. “I belong to you,” Hank said softly.

  Avery nodded, his brilliant green eyes boring into Hank’s. They moved together, the timeless dance of lovers in perfect sync. Avery was breathing rapidly, his fingers digging hard into Hank’s hips as he lifted and lowered Hank onto his satiny steel shaft.

  “Come for me,” Hank whispered, and this time it was Avery who obeyed.

  ~*~

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hank? Is that you, dear?”

  Hank shook his head indulgently. “Yes, Mom. It’s me.”

  “How are you, darling? I’ve been talking to Margaret Delaney. She has that darling niece who just came back from France. She’s a little on the chubby side, but she’s got a lovely face. Her divorce was finalized and she’s eager to meet you. I was thinking the four of us could get together for a drink—just something casual. See if the sparks fly. You never know Hank—maybe you just haven’t met the right girl.”

  Hank blew out a breath. Sandra wasn’t going to change. But he had changed. “Maybe another time, Mom,” he said, almost smiling. “I’ve been seeing a wonderful man. His name is Avery Thompson. It’s pretty serious between us. I’d love for you to meet him.”

  Sandra made a dismissive snort into the phone. “Really, dear. You’re too old now for those adolescent games. It’s time to step up and get a proper wife and—”

  “Mom,” Hank interrupted, refusing to let himself get riled. “I didn’t call to talk about my personal life. I wanted to see what’s up with Dad. I’ve left a few messages for him but—”

  “He’s always so busy,” his mother interrupted breezily. “I hardly ever see him.”

  “But, what’s going on with the business? Is he going to be okay?”

  “You know your father,” Sandra said with a small, fluty laugh. “He can slither his way out of any tight spot. He’s worked out a deal with those government people. Seeley Construction will remain in business. There’s some disagreeable discussion about repayments and fines. I don’t bother my head with all that nonsense. I’ve got a charity ball to organize, and then there’s the silent auction gala at the club.” There was some background noise and then Sandra continued, “I have to go, dear. The decorator is here with the new plans for my sunroom.”

  “Wait,” Hank interjected quickly, before she could click off. “I wanted to tell you—to tell you both—I got a job. I’m working with cars.”

  “Cars? I don’t understand. You’re selling cars?” She sounded horrified.

  He didn’t bother elaborating. �
�It’s a temporary thing while I figure out what I want to do. I just got an interview with a bank. I’m thinking about a career in commercial banking.”

  “Oh, that’s nice dear. I really have to—”

  “Mom, wait. Can you let Dad know? Let him know I’m working. I’m supporting myself.”

  “Of course, dear. He’ll be so proud. Really must dash. Ta ta.”

  Hank stared at his cell, shaking his head. It wasn’t that long ago he would have been filled with rage at her dismissal of his efforts, and the total disconnect that had always existed between them. But instead of fury, he felt only a lingering sadness. He’d hoped his parents would be proud of him, and maybe someday they would be. But in the scheme of things, it wasn’t essential. Avery was proud of him and, even more importantly, he was proud of himself.

  Chapter 17

  The late October morning dawned crisp and clear, a perfect day for the beer festival. Hank stood at the bank of windows at the back of the loft, staring out at the day. He enjoyed watching the pigeons standing in neat rows along the telephone wires. He had become fond of the old sign painted directly on the brick building across the street, Blue Moon Diner – World’s Best Biscuits in faded letters with a large smiling man in the moon in yellows and blues beneath it.

  “Happy anniversary,” Avery said, coming up behind Hank. It was hard to believe a year had already passed since that fateful day last October when Avery had entered Hank’s life and changed his world. “I’m sorry the festival is going to get in the way of our special day.”

  Hank turned around and put his arms around Avery. “Don’t be crazy. This is going to be awesome. I’m excited to be a part of it. We’ll get our tattoos tomorrow.”

  They’d agreed for their anniversary that they wanted to get matching triskelion tattoos. Avery was going to get his on his upper arm, while Hank had opted for his chest, just above his heart.

  Avery and Nolan had been working nearly around the clock for the past week getting their latest offerings bottled and labeled in anticipation of the upcoming beer festival where they’d bought a booth. Hank had been helping however he could in his spare time. He liked being part of something productive, and their energy and enthusiasm were infectious.