Firm Hand

by Nora Phoenix

  Compassion bloomed in Rhys's eyes, and that was somewhat unexpected. Somehow, Cornell had thought he might get a little upset, jealous even, but he saw nothing but understanding.

  "I'm sorry your needs haven't always been met," Rhys said. There was a polite wording if Cornell had ever heard one.

  He wasn't sure where he got the courage to ask, since his self-confidence had taken hit after hit in recent years, but somehow, he found himself blurting out the words. "So, are you going to meet my needs?"

  The air between them sizzled, Rhys’s eyes so intense that Cornell couldn't look away if he wanted to. "Will you let me?" was Rhys's response.

  "You really want to play with me?" Cornell asked.

  "Very much so," Rhys said. "But do you trust me enough?"

  Cornell considered the question. It was a good one, and yet one that was easy to answer now, after all the time he'd spent earlier thinking about his reasons to stay. "It's why I'm staying," he said softly. "I can think of many reasons to leave, some of them probably similar to your mother's objections. But at the end of the day, I came to the conclusion that I have one important reason to stay. You make me feel safe, and I do trust you."

  Rhys's face lit up like he’d turned on a light. "Thank you. You have no idea how much it means to me to hear you say that, especially after I messed up so badly by not telling you."

  "I mean it. And you know I made the decision before I was one hundred percent sure you wanted to play with me, though I'll admit that did factor into my decision. I could try to paint a more flattering picture, but as I said, the cold truth is that my options are very limited, so I really can't afford to turn down anyone willing to do a good scene with me."

  Cornell wasn't sure how it was possible, but he saw his own pain reflected in Rhys's eyes. "I promise I will take good care of you," Rhys said, and Cornell believed him.

  "Do you want a formal contract?" he asked Rhys. "Considering this won't be a one-time thing, at least, I assume."

  Rhys almost looked offended. "Definitely not a one-time thing. I'll leave that choice to you. I'm content with a verbal agreement, but if you prefer a formal one, I'm happy to oblige."

  Cornell shrugged. "I think verbal will work for us, considering we know each other well."

  "You already told me a little about your preferences, but what about your limits? Obviously, I won't go anywhere near them in the first few scenes, but I want to be aware of any triggers or soft or hard limits you have."

  Cornell had done this spiel so many times that he knew it by heart. "Hard limits are water sports, scat play, and severe impact play. Because of my physical limitations, my pain tolerance level has gone down, so you'll find me safe wording relatively soon if it gets too intense. Kneeling is a soft limit, as is being restrained in a position that puts my weight on my knees."

  He only realized who he was talking to when Rhys scoffed. "I hate to correct you, but kneeling is a hard limit for you."

  Cornell smiled, strangely warmed by Rhys's genuine concern. "I'm sorry, I forgot that you know my physical limitations better than I do myself, probably."

  Rhys nodded, a proud smile now adorning his face. "Other limits?" he asked.

  "Aftercare is important to me, maybe as important as the scene. As you can hear, my preferences in combination with my limitations leave a very limited number of things to do," Cornell said, a wave of embarrassment and humiliation rolling through him. There were days when he longed to be twenty again, able to embrace whatever the Dom would throw at him. Then again, even at that age, he hadn’t been extreme in his preferences.

  "Bullshit," Rhys said firmly. "If you believe that, you've never played with creative Doms, and if Doms ever told you that, they should definitely improve their skill level."

  Sweet relief filled Cornell. "You think so?"

  "Boy," Rhys said, and that word alone made Cornell's heart do funny things. "I can think of a million things I want to do with you."

  * * *

  Rhys was uncharacteristically nervous. He always had some sort of tension before a scene, but the sweaty palms he was experiencing now, combined with the floaters in his stomach and a heart that was racing, were of a whole different order. He'd prepared everything meticulously in the three days since Cornell had agreed to play with him. Hell, he'd even checked some things with Ford, wanting to make absolutely sure he had gotten everything right. There was little to no room for error here.

  Maybe that's why he was so nervous, knowing how much was riding on this one scene. Oh, who was he kidding? Of course that's why he was nervous. He'd only been looking forward to this moment for what, years? He blew out a steadying breath as he waited for Cornell to show up.

  His dad had created a playroom in his basement. It had been nothing elaborate or fancy, merely a private room away from curious eyes with some basic furniture that came in handy. Rhys had never known what had been in that mysterious room his dad had always kept locked until a few months ago, when he’d told him he’d been training as a Dom. Only then had his dad shown him around with a mix of embarrassment and pride.

  Of course, the furniture had all been made by his dad. There was a lovely St. Andrew’s cross, a flogging bench, a sturdy table, and a few chairs with some handy features and embellishments. It would be the first time Rhys got to use the room, and maybe that, too, added to his nerves.

  He felt his dad's presence in the entire house, but in this room? For some reason, it was even stronger here. It was funny, because aside from that one time he’d shown Rhys around, they’d never been in this room together. And yet, as he slowly walked around, his hand stroking the smooth surface of the furniture, he could almost feel his dad's presence.

  He'd spent hours building this furniture, making sure it was able to withstand rough treatment. His hands had sanded the wood until it was soft as velvet to the touch, not a splinter anywhere. The kneeling bench had been padded with filling and fabric, probably to accommodate for the aging body of its owner. And for Cornell, Rhys knew. Cornell had played in this room with his dad many times, he guessed. How would he react to being back here? He would soon find out, as he heard his uneven steps on the stairs.

  He was wearing a bathrobe with nothing underneath, and a wave of emotions rolled through Rhys as he saw the scars on his legs. He'd seen them plenty of times, but it was a painful reminder every single time how close he'd come to losing him as well.

  Cornell slowly made his way over to him, sending him a tight smile. He was nervous too, Rhys realized. He wanted to reach out and hug him, but he held back, not sure that was what Cornell needed right now.

  "How are you feeling?" he asked instead.

  Cornell looked around the room, his eyes filling with sadness. "I haven't been down here since…"

  He didn't need to finish that sentence, because they both knew what followed. Maybe it had been a bad idea to do the scene here. Maybe he would've been better off setting everything up upstairs, maybe even in the treatment room. After all, his massage table was plenty comfortable for Cornell. But it was too late now.

  "We can do it upstairs," he heard himself say. "Not today, since I’d need some time to set it up there, but I'm happy to do it tomorrow if this room brings up too many painful memories for you."

  Cornell met his eyes. "I gotta bite the bullet some time, don't I? I can't run away from the memories. He's everywhere in this house."

  Objectively, he was right, but Rhys wondered if that really was the best headspace to start a scene in. Probably not, but what alternative did he have now? Should he cancel it? That didn't seem fair either when Cornell had told him he was okay to continue. God, he should've thought this through better, using this room.

  "Are you sure you're good to go?" he checked again.

  Cornell nodded. "Yes, Sir."

  Rhys pushed his doubts down. If they were gonna do it, he couldn't second-guess himself. He needed to be confident. "Okay. Let's get started, then. Do you want to know what I have planned for you? Or
would you like to be surprised?"

  Cornell took a quick look around the room, then smiled. "I have a pretty good guess considering what I can see from your setup, but seeing as how this is our first scene together, I'd prefer to know."

  "Were going to do some sensory play. It's low intensity, low impact, perfect to get to know each other a little bit."

  "Sounds good, Sir."

  Rhys kept marveling at how easy that word of respect came to Cornell, even when he took into consideration he'd been doing this for a long time. It felt as if Cornell could flip a switch as soon as they started playing and really saw Rhys as a Dom, not as his best friend's son.

  "Do you want to use the color system or would you prefer to use specific safe words?"

  Something flashed in Cornell's eyes, though his voice was level as he spoke. "I've been using the color system for years, because with a different Dom each time, I couldn’t trust them to remember my safe words."

  That simple statement held so much pain that Rhys felt it in his soul. "Let's start with the color system, then, and over time, you can decide whether you trust me to remember your safe words."

  "Yes, Sir."

  "Okay, I want you face up on the table. I'll make sure you're comfortable, so you don't have to worry about that."

  This was the part where Rhys had expected Cornell to be uncomfortable, but the man calmly untied his bathrobe, carefully slid it off his shoulders, and neatly folded it. He put it down on a chair in the corner, then walked over to the table, which Rhys had outfitted with some extra cushions and rolled up towels to provide optimum support for Cornell.

  Rhys took up position next to the table, holding out his hand to Cornell to help him up. He'd put at sturdy little footstool next to the table to make it easier for Cornell to climb on. The grateful look in Cornell's eyes meant everything to him.

  Once Cornell was on his back, Rhys carefully put the cushions and rolled up towels in the right positions so his body was fully supported. "Are you comfortable?" he checked.

  He loved that Cornell didn't answer right away but seemed to do a mental check of his body. "Yes, Sir. Thank you."

  "I’m going to blindfold you now."

  Cornell closed his eyes, and Rhys tied the black blindfold around his eyes, his hands shaking a little. Dammit, he had to get a grip on himself before Cornell picked up on his nerves. That wouldn't instill a helluva lot of confidence in his abilities as a Dom.

  "You may make as many sounds as you want, but I would prefer for you not to speak unless you need to use your safe words," Rhys instructed him.

  "Yes, Sir."

  Rhys took a steadying breath, then reached for the first object he wanted to use. It was metal massage roller that you could heat up in hot water as well as cool off in the freezer. He'd warmed it enough so it was warm but not scorching hot. Rhys put it on Cornell's stomach. He jolted a little, so Rhys kept his hand still and allowed him to adjust. Then he started rolling it across his upper body with slow, light moves.

  His goal was to get Cornell to relax, and that seemed to work as he heard him breathe out and saw the tension in his muscles lessen. When he was satisfied he'd reached his goal, he lifted the roller off his body and went for the next object. He'd cut a piece of the softest blanket he'd ever found and made a finger sleeve out of it, perfectly fitted to put one finger in. He started with Cornell's nipple, and again, his body jolted under the unexpected touch. Or maybe he had been expecting it, but it was hard to brace when you didn't know what was coming and where it would hit.

  Rhys dragged soft circles around his right nipple, then did the same with the left. Cornell let out a little hum of appreciation, and Rhys trailed his finger down the man's sternum toward his bellybutton, and then even farther down. He bypassed his groin, of course. No need to rush things, now was there? Instead, he focused on his thighs, using the little piece of soft cloth to make random paths, working toward his groin area without ever touching it.

  Next up was a feather, and he teased Cornell all over his body with it. He wasn't ticklish, Rhys discovered, not even under his feet, which was somewhat of a disappointment. Rhys had once observed a session where Ford had punished a sub by tickling him extensively, and it had been a lot of fun to watch.

  So far, so good. Now it was time to mix things up. He'd only used comfortable elements, and now it was time to introduce something that was a little less comfortable. Ice came first, in the form of that same metal massage roller he'd used before, only this time one that came from the freezer.

  He didn't warn Cornell before he put it on his nipples, and the man hissed in shock. Oh, but that had a lovely effect on him, his nipples turning in to gorgeous little buds. Someday, he would have to set up a session devoted to nipple play. He had a whole list of ideas for that.

  The icy roller was also fun to use on Cornell's balls and dick, the first time he was touching him there. He'd been at half-mast before, but that quickly changed when he hit him with the cold. Rhys had to hold back a smile as Cornell instinctively tried to move his hips away from the freezing touch on his nuts and dick. No such luck, of course.

  Rhys was also tempted to say something, but he knew from experience sensory play was so much better when you didn't say anything, when all the sub could do was feel. Ordinarily, he would put headphones on the sub as well, the noise-canceling ones, so he'd be unable to see or hear. But he had reckoned that was a bit too much for Cornell for the first scene.

  After cold, it was time for sharp, and Rhys got out his Wartenberg wheel. A quick roll over both of his nipples had Cornell hissing all over again. Rhys frowned when Cornell's muscles tensed up. He wasn't moving, but trained as Rhys was to spot even minute muscle movements, he noticed that Cornell's body was not relaxed.

  Should he ask if he was getting uncomfortable? As he kept moving the wheel across his chest, he quickly checked the man's positioning. It was almost impossible for him to be uncomfortable, what with how supported his body was. Maybe it was tension that came from expectation? The kind of anticipation that came from excitement? But if that was the case, why was he still completely soft?

  His erection had gone down after Rhys had hit him with the cold, which was normal, but he should have recovered by now. Was it because he was older? Maybe his recovery time was different? But Rhys didn't trust that explanation. Something was off.

  And with a sinking feeling in his stomach, he realized that he had no idea what was wrong.

  12

  Cornell wanted to soar, to fly. Hell, he wanted nothing more than to completely sink into the scene and get out of his head. But it wasn't working, and every second, he got more frustrated with himself. It wasn't anything Rhys was doing. No, this was all on him.

  What the hell was wrong with him? So many times, he had complained to Jonas about not being able to fully sink into a scene because he'd been too uncomfortable, because the Dom had not taken his limitations into account, because he'd been playing with inexperienced Doms or with plain bad ones. And here he was, with a Dom who had taken more care than anyone else to make sure he was comfortable, who had clearly prepared this scene well, and yet Cornell couldn't do it.

  For some reason, he was too much in his head, too aware of what was happening, of where he was, of who he was with. He couldn't stop thinking about the room he was in, the table he was on, which he had used so many times before with Jonas. And sometimes even without Jonas, as his friend had had no issue with Cornell setting up scenes with a Dom in his basement either, even if they didn't include him.

  Was that it? Was his grief for Jonas, his lingering presence in this room, at fault? Or did he still have doubts about Rhys? Had he tried to convince himself he was okay with him as a Dom while his emotions hadn't caught up yet?

  Rhys took the Wartenberg wheel away from his body, and Cornell forced himself not to tense up as he awaited the next step. It felt good, what Rhys was doing, so why couldn't he connect with it? It was like he was disconnected from his body, observing hi
mself as if he wasn't in it. Objectively, he knew that whatever Rhys was doing should turn him on, and yet it didn't. And no matter how hard he willed himself to get hard, to get aroused, to get into the scene, dammit, he couldn't.

  Something sharp pricked him, right below his left nipple. Needles? It had to be something similar. He was good with them, Cornell thought, pricking him in places he wasn't expecting. Suddenly, his left testicle was grabbed, and it was pinched together quickly. A clamp of some kind. Cornell usually loved that shit, as his balls were super sensitive, but even that didn't do anything for him.

  God, he was such a failure. All he had wanted was to enjoy this scene, as much for himself as for Rhys. He'd wanted to prove to him he was good sub, an excellent sub, even with a Dom he never played with. And maybe, if he were honest, there had been a little hope involved as well. If he did well in their first scene together, surely Rhys would want to play with him again?

  Fat chance of that happening now, with him failing so spectacularly. All he wanted was to please his Dom, and he wasn't delivering, not even close.

  Maybe he'd been right all along. Maybe the accident had damaged him, somehow, rendering him forever unsuitable as a sub. After all, he couldn't kneel, he couldn't perform a lot of activities that Doms expected from their subs. And even though he'd had erections, maybe things weren't working there as they had before either. Or it was a case of him getting older, which was a distinct possibility as well. Hadn’t he read somewhere that erectile problems begin in your forties?

  He hadn't even noticed Rhys had stopped until he suddenly heard him speak. "Red," Rhys said, his voice full of emotion. "I'm breaking off the scene. This is not right."