melissas_corner: (Andy/Ryan)
[personal profile] melissas_corner
Author's Notes: I'm very late to the party here but I fell for Alex O'Loughlin in Hawai'i Five-O and so went looking for his other shows. When I saw how Andy yelled at poor Ryan in Code Green I just had to write this. Title taken from the Leonard Cohen song of the same name.
Summary: Andy has to punish Ryan for breaking protocol.
Warnings: BDSM, spanking for punishment
Spoilers: Ryan's First Day andCode Green

Ryan's POV:

The sound of the hotel door slamming is loud in the quiet of the room.

Shit! He's early! I'm only half done with my preparations. If I don't finish, or do them right, I'll be punished even more.

Rubbing faster, I work the scented oil he prefers into the skin of my legs before reaching around and using two fingers to make sure I'm stretched for him. Just in case. He doesn't usually fuck me after a punishment, that would turn it into a reward, but he hasn't fucked me in almost two weeks so he just might want to. Besides, it's part of the required preparations.

"Baby Boy." His voice is calm but I know he's anything but. My breath quickens with anxiety. He isn't supposed to have to call me and if I make him call me again… well, I've been told I don't ever want that to happen. "Bab-" I slide around the corner, my oiled feet slipping on the hard wood flooring, and manage to catch him mid-word.

I drop to the L-position on my knees, holding perfectly still, chin up, eyes on the floor as is expected and ignore the words dying to get out. I'm not allowed to speak without permission and I have a feeling I won't be getting that anytime soon.

"I know I'm early but that is no excuse." He has been trying to get me to be quicker with the preparations since we first started this but I'm finding it difficult because of all that I'm expected to do. The one time I rushed through, he hurt me, and not in a good way. "You know why we're here." It's a statement, not a question, and now I can hear the anger in his voice.

While his patient did end up getting his new heart, he almost didn't because of circumstances beyond our control. But I broke protocol by telling Brandon Ayers' wife that we had a heart before telling Master about it. He has never yelled at me like that and I wanted nothing more than to just curl up in a ball and die.

I nod because an answer is required. Tonight's punishment has two purposes: to teach me to keep my mouth shut and to re-enforce his ownership of me.

"Then you know what's expected."

Turning, I walk on my knees back into the bedroom and over to the table. Rolling gracefully to my feet, I brace myself on the edge, presenting my ass for my punishment and stare down at the different implements that I laid out for him to choose from before I began to prepare myself. This will only be my second punishment spanking at his hands. He loves to spank me, and I love to be spanked by him, but he gets the most pleasure, and so do I by proxy, from flogging me which is why he doesn't use it as punishment.

His hand enters my field of vision and hovers over each one before settling on the paddle.

I hate the paddle and he knows it. He used it the first time he punished me two days after he first took me as his submissive. Plus I had a bad experience with a former Dominant who would punish me for the slightest things, always with a paddle.

That first punishment was for breaking the rules and this one is for breaking protocol and so I'm expecting it to be much worse.

He runs his hand down my back and over my ass and I can feel his anger. He's shaking with it and that makes me feel even worse. I've never had a Dominant I wanted to please as much as I do him and knowing that I've disappointed him hurts as much as this spanking will.

"Twenty, Baby Boy," he says, his voice strained with the effort of holding his anger in check.

"Shall I count, Master?" I know I'm breaking a rule but I am allowed to ask for clarification when he doesn't give it.

"No. You'll think about why I have to do this."

I nod and brace myself for the first strike.

It lands high on my ass, almost on my back and I gasp at the sting. He holds the paddle against my skin, again running his free hand down my back. I shiver at the feel of the cold metal of his wedding ring. "Tell me what your safeword is."

I let my head hang down between my arms and take a deep breath. I really hate my safeword but it's the one he gave me. "SpongeBob," I say through gritted teeth. When he gave me my safeword, I knew he was aware I had heard him make the comment about my age to Dr. Jordan.

"Very good, Baby Boy."

The second strike lands slightly below the first and has me grunting at the impact. He soon settles into a rhythm and despite him telling me to think about what I did wrong, I count off the swats in my head. By the time the twentieth stroke falls high on my thighs, I'm biting my lip to muffle my sobs.

I actually don't feel I need this reminder but I love that he cares enough to do it anyway. I really tried to not tell Mrs. Ayers about the heart, but she's heavily pregnant and despite that has had little to smile about lately. I just wanted to get rid of the haunted look in her eyes and see her smile.

He presses the paddle against my heated skin, just waiting. I know what he's waiting for but I'm not deep enough in my headspace to give it to him. But eventually it gets to be too much and I shiver, releasing a shaky breath.

He takes that as the cue it is and gathers me into his arms before he sits down in a chair. I curl up in his lap, which isn't easy since we're of a height.

He wraps his arms around my shoulders and buries his nose in my hair. His breathing is as ragged as mine. As much as I hate being punished, he hates having to punish me even more but he does it because it's how he shows he cares.

"Forgive me, Master," I plead, my voice muffled by the fact that I have my face tucked in his left arm pit.

"Wouldn't punish you if I didn't forgive you." His voice cracks and I know he's fighting tears; tears that aren't really for me. Oh, I know some of them are, but mostly they're for the patient he almost lost today. He cares deeply for his patients and that's what makes him a good doctor.

After several minutes, he sighs deeply, gives a tiny sniff and rubs his chin against the top of my head. "What did we learn today?" He has his voice back under control and I know my punishment's not over.

I sigh and settle deeper against him. "I shouldn't have said anything to Mrs. Ayers."

"And why's that?"

"You could have turned down the heart. Your friend could have been unwilling to help you procure it in time. And it's not my place."

"Ah," he breathes, pressing a kiss into my hair. "That last one. What was that again?"

I just barely refrain from grinding my teeth. "It's not my place to tell the patient if/when an organ is matched to them."

"And why's that?"

I turn my head to rub my nose against his shoulder. "Because I'm not a doctor."

"You're not a doctor," he repeats. "You sure about that?"

Oh, now he's just being mean. And reminding me of my first day at Three Rivers. "Yes, Master."

"And yet you told Mrs. Ayers that her husband had been matched to a heart."

"You've seen her, Master! You've seen how sad she is. And that's just wrong what with the fact that she's pregnant. I just wanted to see her smile."

"Not. Your. Place, Baby Boy."

I sigh deeply and agree. "Of course, Master."

"Good." He shifts until he can get two fingers under my chin so he can lift it and place a chaste kiss on my lips.

I can't quite stop the needy whimper that escapes. He hasn't so much as touched me in days and I'm beginning to doubt the depth of his feelings.

My begging for his touch earns me a sharp slap to my hip. "You're still being punished, Baby Boy. You know what comes next."

I do know what comes next and I hate this more than being spanked with a paddle. I whine low in my throat. "Master." I use my most submissive voice. Another sharp slap has me yelping.

"You know what comes next."

"Yes, Master."

"Then why are you still in my lap?"

Because you won't let go? The words hover on the tip of my tongue but I don't say them. I want to get back on his good side and snarking back won't help.

With a sigh, I slowly uncurl from his lap and lower myself to the floor in order to crawl over to the side of the bed closest to the door. Reaching under the bed skirt, I grasp the pallet that's hidden there and pull it out, then sit down on it and cuff my right ankle to the bedpost. I know why he does this but it still feels cruel to me.

Just before I close the cuff around my ankle, I look up and find him staring at me with an expression I can't name. When he notices my hesitation, he just lifts one brow. With another sigh, I click the cuff closed and curl up on my right side with my head pillowed on my arms.

We both know I'm not going to sleep, but that's not what this is about. Cuffing me to the bed is about reminding me that every aspect of my life outside the hospital is controlled by him. Most of my punishments consist only of being cuffed to the bed for a few hours. He only adds additional punishments when I really fuck up. Like today.

The Ayers' were so excited about the possibility of a heart. If something had gone wrong with getting that heart it would have literally killed Mr. Ayers. And I would be the one responsible for them getting their hopes up.

It's indicative of how pissed he is that he doesn't ask if I need to pee before I cuff myself to the bed. Until now I didn't really need to go but now that I can't without his permission, permission I'm not allowed to ask for, my bladder tells me it needs to be emptied. Heaving a deep sigh, I shift to a more comfortable position and try to ignore it. Over the past four months that we've been doing this, I've learned what my limits are and been pushed past them more times than I can count. I know I can do this. Hopefully he doesn't make me wait all night but I will, if I have to.

"Baby Boy," he calls and I twist my upper torso to see him standing near the door and notice for the first time that he's still wearing his scrubs. He must have come straight from surgery. "Be the good boy I know you are and you'll be rewarded."

I nod and roll back over, closing my eyes and thinking about how I should have insisted that Dr. Yablonski should be the one to tell Mrs. Ayers about the heart.

His bare feet slap lightly against the hard wood flooring as he exits the bedroom and heads to the living area. I can hear him talking to someone but not the words and wonder if maybe he's ordering room service. Until I hear a female voice respond; a voice that I recently learned belongs to his wife, Detective Rena Yablonski.

I know he's been trying to get back with her. I briefly met her when she was at the hospital with her partner but she seems like a really nice lady and if she makes him happy, then I can't bring myself to be upset about it. I drift to the sounds of them talking, his full-bodied laugh ringing out several times and making me smile. He has a wonderful laugh and doesn't do it often enough.

Time passes and I doze fitfully, knowing better than to actually fall asleep, until I notice how quiet it's gotten. Holding my breath, I'm able to determine that sex sounds are coming from the living area. A pain spikes deep in my chest at the knowledge that he wants her but not me. Until I roll over, that is, and hear the clink of the chain around my ankle and am reminded that I'm just a thing for him to seek his pleasure with. And it's obvious that he no longer wishes to use me for that after my fuck up even though I did manage to come through for him and find a way to get the heart from Lancaster to Three Rivers.

Eventually I fall asleep, jerking awake to the sound of the hotel door slamming shut. Did Rena stay over or was that Master getting his morning paper? I wonder. Not that it matters. I'm still blinking my eyes open when his bare feet and legs enter my field of vision, effectively answering my question.

He walks right past where I'm lying on my pallet, not even pausing, and on into the bathroom. I hear him empty his bladder which brings my own full bladder to my attention.

My situation is becoming dire when he calls out, "Baby Boy, c'mere."

Oh, thank God! Quickly sitting up, I yank the handcuff key from its hiding place on the underside of the bed frame and frantically uncuff myself. I want to run as fast as I can to the bathroom but that's not allowed so I settle for crawling as quickly as possible.

Once in the bathroom I find him standing in front of the toilet. Rolling gracefully to my feet, I step between him and the toilet with my back to his chest and assume the position: hands on my head, fingers linked and feet shoulder width apart.

"Such a good boy," he praises, placing one hand on my left hip and wrapping the other around my dick. I sigh deeply in relief and sag a little in his arms as my bladder empties and I'm relieved of that pressure.

"I have to ask your forgiveness, Baby Boy." He nuzzles the back of my head below my linked hands. "I didn't mean to neglect you all night. Guess I was more tired than I thought." I can't help but smile at his words. My heart swells with the knowledge that he does still care. He presses tiny biting kisses to the back of my neck, causing a shiver to race down my spine. "Mm. I know you've already forgiven me but I've gone ahead and canceled everything except the necessary stuff for today so I can spend the entire day making it up to you."

A whole day alone with him… We haven't spent an entire day alone since we first began. I feel like it's my birthday.

He bites a bit harder on the joint between my neck and my shoulder and slips his left hand down my torso to cup my balls once my bladder is completely empty, squeezing gently. "Don't forget to flush," he says, patting my butt before stepping into the shower.

Pressing the lever on the tank, I jump into the shower just before he closes the door, and kneel down just the way Master prefers in the back of the stall behind him.

Shortly after he first took me, he had a kneeling pad installed so that the tile floor doesn't hurt my knees and it tends to be warmer than the tiles themselves, which is a good thing in the winter. I love how even when I'm being punished he cares about my comfort and safety.

I can't help myself and sneak a peek up through my lashes. I can see the muscles in his ass moving as he washes his hair. A trail of suds catches my eye and I follow its path down over the curve of his ass and down his thigh.

I haven't been told I'm allowed to respond to his nearness so I fight my growing arousal but it's difficult. Master is a very attractive man and it has been quite some time since he's allowed me any kind of release. I close my eyes and pray that him taking the day off means he's planning on fucking me.

"Baby Boy." His voice interrupts my fantasy of him bending me over the sink and fucking my brains out. I raise my eyes to his, encouraged by the affectionate smile on his face. Returning his smile, I crawl forward until I'm kneeling at his feet so he can wash my hair.

Master's hands aren't just skilled in the operating room but are also skilled in massage. I've never in my life been given a scalp massage as good as the ones he gives. While my role may be to service him, he seems to think his role includes pampering me at times. Who am I to argue with that? Although I did the first time he did it. He didn't punish me for it, just raised one eyebrow and waited until I stammered an apology and sat still for him to do as he pleased. He seems to get a lot of pleasure from doing little things for me. Things like washing my hair and body, hand feeding me and, on occasion, giving me a full body massage.

A moan escapes before I can stop it, causing him to laugh. "Oh, Baby Boy, how you please me." A flush heats my face at his words. "You heard me fucking Rena, didn't you?" I nod, fighting the dejected feeling growing in my chest. "Oh, Baby Boy." He tangles his fingers in my hair and tugs until I lean my head back to look at him. "She doesn't mean anything to me." He trails his fingers down my neck. "At least not as much as you do." He winks at me like he did yesterday in the operating room when I brought him the heart for Mr. Ayers.

Reaching for the wash cloth and soap, he begins washing every part of me he can reach, which is just my shoulders, arms, hands and upper torso. Wrapping one hand around one of my arms, he urges me to stand so he can finish washing every inch of skin except my genitals and between my ass cheeks.

Once done washing my feet, he stands slowly, rubbing his body against mine. A shudder shakes my frame at the feel of his bare skin against mine and his erection poking me in the leg.

With a hand between my shoulder blades, he urges me to lean forward and rest my hands against the titled wall under the shower spray. "So very beautiful, my Baby Boy," he murmurs, reaching around to wash my dick and balls before spreading my ass cheeks and washing my hole, pushing one cloth covered finger inside. "So beautiful."

Dropping the cloth with a wet splat on the floor, he palms both cheeks and slowly presses inside. My breath catches in my throat and I relax my muscles and let him in, reveling in the feel of him filling me again for the first time in two weeks.

He cups my balls with one hand and braces himself against the wall with the other. "You will not get hard," he growls, his lips pressed against my ear.

I bite my lip to prevent the whimper that's building from escaping. It's not for me to argue, it's for me to obey. When I obey, I get rewarded but when I disobey or argue, I get punished and I hate making him punish me.

"God! Still so tight even after all these months." Of course I am. I do Kegels every day because he likes me nice and tight; likes pretending he's taking my virginity every time he fucks me. And I love the burn of him forcing his way inside.

I can't help but press back against him. When I do, he shifts so that his feet are on the outside of mine. For several minutes he just holds there, buried balls deep in my ass, cupping my balls in one hand with his nose pressed behind my left ear.

When he pulls back, I tighten my muscles to try and keep him inside. He shushes me and begins thrusting slowly in and out of my ass, making sure to not hit my prostate, for which I'm extremely grateful.

It's difficult to not have a physical reaction to him fucking me; if he was nailing my prostate with each thrust it would be nearly impossible.

He's keeping the pace so slow that I spare half a thought to hope the warm water lasts until he's done fucking me. Not that I'd ever complain about having freezing cold water pounding down on my back especially if that's how he wants it. It's just I know how long it takes for the water to go cold and if he's still fucking me at that point, then it's going to be a very long day.

"Remember, you're not allowed to get hard," he says, then straightens up and grabs both hips before roughly pulling me back onto his dick, effectively increasing his pace and pushing me up on my toes with each in-stroke.

Master grunts with the force of his thrusts, the sound of his balls smacking against my ass echoing in the tiled shower stall.

Just as the water begins to go cold, he thrusts once more and holds still, his cock twitching as it empties itself inside me.

He leans his hands on the wall beside mine and rests his head on my shoulder, his breath warm against my wet skin. Reaching down with one hand he palms my balls again. "Good boy." He squeezes gently and my dick twitches in interest against his wrist. "Guess there's only so much you can take without a response of some kind." He kisses my shoulder. "You know what's next." I nod and clench my muscles as he pulls out. He doesn't believe in plugs so I'm required to keep his come inside me on my own.

Stepping from the shower stall, I dry off quickly then make my way into the bedroom and over to the bed. Spreading the towel out on the bed, I lay face down, crossing my ankles.

This is something I hate nearly as much as being spanked with a paddle but since Master is a doctor it's something he insists on. Even if I'm properly prepped and plenty of lube is used, he always insists on checking to make sure there aren't any tears.

I wrap my arms around a pillow and wait for him to finish in the bathroom. I can feel myself starting to step further into the proper headspace and it relaxes me even more. With a tiny smile I settle more deeply into the mattress.

"So very beautiful. And all mine," he purrs, trailing the fingers of one hand up the inside of my left thigh. When he gets to my ass he grips one cheek for a second before urging me to open my legs.

Spreading my cheeks, he pokes at my hole and I can feel his come dribbling down over my balls. "Hm, it would appear you were just fucked. Is this right?"

"Yes, Doctor." I don't know why but I really don't like this game he plays when checking me for tears.

"Was he rough with you?" He slips one finger inside and twists it before crooking it and rubbing against my prostate and I bite back a gasp.

"No, Doctor."

"No, huh?" I shake my head against the pillow. "Tell me how he took you."

"Very gently, Doctor."

"Is that right?" He pats my right ass cheek, making it jiggle. "He must love you every much."

Okay, that's new. He's never said that before. Hell, he's never told me he loves me. He asks me all the time if I love him but he's never once said it to me. My heart begins to pound hard against my ribs. "I like to think so." Is this his way of telling me how he feels?

"How can he not with a beautiful boy like you?" He trails his fingers down the inside of my thigh, urging me to open them far enough that he can kneel between them.

Gripping my ass cheeks loosely, he spreads them wide and licks a stripe from my balls to the top of my crack.

Whipping my head around, I look over my shoulder at where he's stretched out between my spread legs. I fully expect him to order me to lie back down, but he doesn't; just puts one hand between my shoulder blades and presses until I take the hint and resume my former position.

While I know what he's doing is called rimming, he has discussed how he wants to do it to me but he has yet to actually try it, until now. I thought he would talk to me about it before actually doing it, even though he doesn't need to. I also didn't think he'd do it with my guts full of his come.

The instant my head touches the pillow again, he returns to licking me from my balls to the top of my crack. Once satisfied he's got all the come that leaked out of my ass, he begins to fuck me with short jabs of his tongue. Before I met Master I had virtually no sexual experience and he has taken great pleasure in introducing me to the joys of being fucked. His dick, his fingers, it's all good; although I do prefer his dick. And now his tongue. It blows my mind, the things Master can do with his tongue. And now I know why Mistress loved having me eat her out.

"Mm," he hums, the vibrations go straight to my dick, and it takes every ounce of self-control I have to not come right then and there. "Such a good boy," he murmurs, his lips pressed to my left butt cheek. "You're still soft, aren't you?" I make an affirmative noise in the back of my throat and he rewards me with a bite to my right cheek.

I'm on the verge of begging him to let me come already when the alarm on his phone goes off. A frustrated groan escapes before I can stop it.

With a pat to my backside, Master rolls from the bed. "Rest, Baby Boy. I'll be back in a couple of hours. Just need to do rounds." Of course. He needs to check on his patients, especially Mr. Ayers.

A flush of regret heats my torso at the reminder of Mr. Ayers. "Ah, Baby Boy." His voice is soft and loving. "You've been forgiven for that." He kisses my right shoulder.

I love watching Master, even when he's dressing, so I shift until I can see him stepping into a fresh pair of boxer briefs. He must sense my gaze because he turns and smiles when he sees I'm watching him. With a wink he slowly pulls his pants up his legs and fastens them. Master knows how attractive I find him and seems to take great pleasure in showing off for me. Although he's never turned getting dressed into a reverse strip tease.

Once fully dressed, he steps to the bed and runs one hand down my back. "Stay just like this," he orders, then with a nipping kiss to my nose, he walks from the room. I listen to the sound of his dress shoes on the hard wood flooring, counting his steps until I hear the hotel door slam shut.

Rest, he said. Stay just like this. Easier said than done, the not moving part. The rest part is always easy after the initial step down into my headspace.

With a jaw cracking yawn, I snuggle down into the pillow, breathing in his scent and close my eyes.

My mind wanders as I drift on the high of being taken down by my Master.

Master and I met nearly four months ago when I started working at Three Rivers as the assistant to the transplant coordinator, only to find myself thrust into the role as the transplant coordinator because the one who hired me had quit the night before. I thought I could handle it, ease my way into the role, maybe, but that's not what happened.

Almost immediately after I arrived, and was told by Dr. Jordan that I was now the coordinator, I was sent out with a procurement team and my lack of medical knowledge almost cost an eighteen year-old girl a new set of lungs, and her life.

Dr. Foster yelled at me for taking a job that required a degree I don't have and it was almost my undoing, having me flashing back to my last punishment at Mistress' hands.

I remember locking my knees to keep myself upright while she stood there and yelled at me in front of the doctors and nurses. Thankfully, Dr. Lee was there. His gentle coaching on how to make the slush while we waited for BPD to collect their evidence helped sooth my frayed nerves.

After the initial rush of procuring the organ was over, Dr. Foster apologized for the way she yelled at me and it went a long way toward making it possible for me to work with her without wanting to drop to my knees and kiss her feet.

Somehow I managed to make it through the rest of the day without breaking down. But once I clocked out it was a totally different story.

I entered the locker room and collapsed on a bench tucked in the back corner. Tears ran unchecked down my face as I sat there with my arms wrapped around my waist, rocking slightly and biting my lip to stifle my sobs.

That's where Master found me several hours after I was supposed to have left.

"Ryan?" His voice startled me and I jumped nearly a foot.

"D-D-Dr. Yablonski," I stammered, silently cursing that weakness.

"What are you doing here?"

I jumped to my feet, frantically looking for a way out but I was in a corner and the only exit was behind him. "I, uh, I-" My mind was blank. I couldn't think of a single thing to say.

"Miranda told me what happened in Boston. She also told me she apologized." He stepped closer and I had to actually fight the urge to step back.

I knew what he was doing. He was trying to dominate me but I wasn't sure I wanted him to. I had taken the job at Three Rivers to get away from an abusive Dominant and I wasn't sure I wanted to ever have another.

"She did," I confirmed, still looking for a way out.

He tilted his head. "Is that why you're crying?"

My eyes narrowed in his face. "I don't see how that's any of your concern." I didn't know him like that and was really offended he would ask me that.

He just smirked and stepped closer. "It's my concern because of this-" He reached out and grabbed my wrist, wrapping his fingers tightly around it and squeezing. My pulse sped up and it became clear that he was what I had been looking for since Mistress had let me go.

We stared at each other for several heartbeats. "How-?" I couldn't find the words to ask how he knew.

His grin widened. "Oh, Baby Boy, you have no idea, do you?" I shook my head. "You scream submissive, you're so eager to please. Miranda said you just about pissed yourself when she scolded you and she was afraid you were going to drop to your knees and kiss her feet when she apologized."

"Dr. Foster-?"

"You have much to learn, Baby Boy." He stepped even closer, standing so far inside my personal space that we were sharing body heat. "I can teach you, if you'll let me."

I looked into his eyes and just knew. He was the one for me. The one that Mistress had been training me for. He was still holding on to my wrist so I couldn't drop to my knees, but I could honor him another way: by bowing my head and saying, "Yes, please, Master."

He tugged on my wrist until I looked back up. Taking a pen from his pocket, he lifted my wrist and wrote a room number on my palm. "Five minutes."

I nodded. He returned it and spinning on his heel, exited the locker room, leaving me standing there trying to figure out how I happened to find myself with another Dominant when I had sworn a year ago when I broke it off with Sir, that I'd never have another one ever again.

Not knowing what would happen if I was late, I made sure I was at his door exactly five minutes after him. What followed was both the most wonderful and the most terrifying night of my life. Until that night I have very limited sexual experience but he didn't care. In fact I think it pleased him to know he was my first.

I'm woken by a bright light flashing behind my closed lids. I blink my eyes open to find Master taking pictures of me. He smiles when he sees I'm awake.

"Look how beautiful you are." He turns the camera so I can see my image on the screen.

Mistress used to call me beautiful and I believed her, but I've since then spent four years under Sir's thumb and he never told me I was attractive. In fact he was almost the exact opposite of Mistress and Master. I duck my head to hide the heat in my cheeks. I know I should believe Master when he tells me these things but it's difficult after so many years of being put down.

"Oh, Baby Boy," he murmurs, sitting down on the edge of the mattress at my right hip. Master knows very little about Sir because he's never asked about it beyond what he needed to know when we first began. "He didn't deserve you. Your goodness, your respect, your submission." He runs the fingers of one hand through my hair. "He didn't really know you. If he did he would have known that you're to be pampered and loved. Not humiliated. Humiliation is not in your dynamic. Why he thought that, I'll never know." My mouth falls open, although I really shouldn't be surprised that he knows these things. He's already proved that he can read me like a book. He smirks at me. "Did you really think I wouldn't find out who he was? That little peon nearly destroyed you." Anger distorts his face, it should make him ugly but not to me; to me his anger makes him even more attractive. I shift closer and press the back of my hand to his knee. His grimace turns into a slight smile. "You don't have to worry about him ever again. I promise you he has been taken care of." I search his face. Surely he doesn't mean what I think he does.

Before he can say anything else, there's a knock on the door. He looks over his shoulder a slight frown marring his brow. When he turns back to face me he winks. "I guess that's room service. They're early." He stands up and heads toward the door to the living area. "You know how I want you."

Slipping from the bed, I grab my pillow and make my way over to the table. Placing the pillow on the floor next to the chair he prefers, I settle on my knees. The act of getting into the proper position: sitting up on my knees in the L-position, my back straight, my chin up and eyes on the floor relaxes me even more and reminds me of how lovingly Master helped me get into position that first time.

It's been several days since he's put me through my paces and even longer since he's allowed me any sort of release. Add to that all the teasing he's done over the past several hours and it's all I can do to not beg him to let me come. My arousal is a living, breathing thing coiled tight in my belly and it's making me anxious which in turn makes it difficult to actually sit still. But I love my Master and so I ignore the part of me that wants to end this and do what I know pleases him most: submit to his will.

From the corner of my eye, I see Master come back into the room, pushing the room service cart. Master doesn't let anyone in the room when I'm present. It used to make me wonder if he was ashamed to be my Master, but then I realized it's because if anyone knew it might damage his reputation as a top ranked trauma surgeon. Not that there's anything wrong with what we're doing, just that some people might not like knowing that he's into dominating his sexual partners. Plus there's the fact that it's really no one else's business what we do behind closed doors.

Master's humming a tune that I can't quite place under his breath and I don't even try to stop the smile that crosses my face because when he's happy, I'm happy.

Raising my eyes just a little bit I can see him removing the covers on the plates of food and my mouth begins to water as the smell of coffee, bacon, eggs, hash browns and pancakes fills the air. Master sits down in his chair and begins to happily munch away at his breakfast.

The first time he did this, anger sparked deep in my gut because I was hungry and he knew it. I found out later that if I had just been patient he would have started feeding me. But since I didn't hide my anger, I had to sit there while he cleared his plate.

He's only taken a few bites when my stomach protests its empty status with a rather loud rumble. I can't stop the flush from exploding over my skin. I'm supposed to make sure I don't ever come to him hungry and now he knows I didn't eat last night. I hold my breath while waiting for him to hand down my punishment. "Didn't have time to eat last night, did you, Baby Boy?" I shake my head. "Mm. It was a rather long and trying day. I'm not surprised you forgot." I hear him take a sip of coffee. "I'm going to let it slide. This time. Do not make a habit of this, got it?" I nod. "Good. Now, then." He holds out a piece of bacon and I lean forward and take the offered treat between my teeth, being careful to not touch his fingers.

A quick glance up shows Master concentrating on his plate. Or so it would appear. I know that he's totally aware of me and my needs. But even so he only feeds me one bite to every five or six of his; and offers me a drink after about five of my bites, and only the smallest of sips.

Once his plate is empty, he begins to feed me the rest of my eggs and a few bites of pancakes. Finally satisfied I've had enough to eat he pushes the plates away and turns in his chair to face me.

"So, you heard Rena and I having sex last night." He props one elbow on the table and presses his thumb against his lip, something I've learned means he's thinking about something fairly important. I nod. "I want to you answer these next questions. Understood?"

"Yes, Master."

"How did hearing me with Rena make you feel?"

He's never asked me a question like that before and I start to sit back on my heels in shock but before my ass can touch my heels, I remember he prefers me sitting tall. "At first it hurt but then I remembered that I'm just a receptacle for your pleasure." I shift a bit on my knees, too nervous to sit still. "It's not for me to object if you decide you want to find your pleasure somewhere else."

"So what you're saying is you don't feel anything about what happened between Rena and myself?"

I shake my head. "That's not what I said, Master."

"Uh-huh." He shifts in his chair. "So tell me what it is you're saying. And don't lie to me."

My eyes snap up and I find myself staring into the blue-grey of his. "I'd never lie to you, Master."

"And why's that?"

I tilt my head to the side. Why is he asking me these questions? Surely it doesn't really matter. "Because I love you."

A small smile lifts the corners of his mouth briefly. "You love me."

"Yes, Master. I may be nothing without you but my submission is nothing without my love."

He chews his lip, a slight frown wrinkling his brow. "What would you do if I were to set you free?"

His question startles me so much that I actually sit down on my heels. My heart is pounding in my chest and I feel like my world is crashing down around my ears. "No, Master, please!" Tears well in my eyes but I refuse to let them fall.

"I think I stated the question wrong. What I mean is, what if I let you go but continued being your lover? In other words, what if we turned this into what most people call a normal relationship?"

I shake my head, my heart breaking into a thousand pieces. "Did I do something wrong?" I whisper. "Is this because I told Mrs. Ayers about the heart?"

"No, I told you, you've been forgiven for that."

"Then why? Why don't you want me anymore?"

"I didn't say I don't want you anymore. I just wanted to know what would happen if I decided I didn't want all this anymore."

"You don't want my submission anymore?"

Master smiles a bit sadly. "Calm yourself." Calm myself? Does he really think I can be calm when he's basically telling me that he doesn't want me anymore? "I'm not letting you go. Ever." My eyes close and I sag in relief. "I'm just trying to gauge where you are."

I open my eyes and gaze at him, putting everything I feel for him into my expression. "Am I where you want me?"

"Oh, yes, Baby Boy. You are exactly where I want you," he purrs, leaning forward slightly. "One more question and I want you to think about your answer. I mean really think about it. Okay?" I nod. I'll do anything he wants me to. "Would you wear my collar?" A collar. No, not a collar, his collar. A physical, tangible sign of his ownership. Something that if anyone was to see can't be pushed off as maybe having been done by a girlfriend. "It wouldn't be like a dog collar but more like a chain. Something that would lie flat under your shirt." I swallow the lump growing in my throat and open my mouth. He puts two fingers on my lips. "I said think about it. And you're no longer allowed to speak."

No! I scream silently and beg with my eyes for him to not do this, to let me answer him now! I want this. Want him. Want his collar. Want it all! More than I've ever wanted anything in my life.

With permission to speak withdrawn, I answer him the only way I can: I lean forward and press my forehead to the tops of his feet and notice for the first time that he's barefoot. The state of his feet is a perfect indication of his state of mind. If he's barefoot then I know he's not planning on going anywhere anytime soon and if he's wearing shoes I know he only has a few minutes, at best, to devote to me.

The instant my head touches his feet he sucks in a loud breath. This is something I've never done. I've kissed his feet before, but I've never just rested my head on them. He's never required this particular show of submission from me.

"Sit up and look at me, l-little one." His voice is strained like this conversation is as hard on him as it has been on me.

Sitting up, I look him in the eyes and the expression on his face has me forgetting myself for a moment as I brace my hands on his thighs when I lean forward to better see his eyes. My jaw drops when I realize that 'little one' isn't what he was going to originally say.

He ducks his head, a blush staining his cheeks. "I want you to think about what I'm asking. Wearing my collar means I own you forever. You won't have the option of leaving. Ever."

Yeah, I got that when you said you weren't going to let me go. Ever. I nod to show I understand.

He returns my nod. "Just want to make sure you're making an informed decision."

Dropping my hands from his legs, I resume the proper position and tilt my head while rolling my eyes since I can't say "I am beyond informed, Master."

He chuckles and reaches out with one hand to grab a handful of hair at the back of my head so he can pull me close enough to capture my lips with his. Master doesn't kiss me on the lips very often and when he does it's usually a closed mouth kiss. But not this one; this one is wet and messy and possessive. This kiss is Master telling me in no uncertain terms that I am his, as if I was in any doubt. I just sit there on my knees and let him kiss me how he wants, whimpering a little when he bites my lip hard enough to draw blood.

He pulls back, breathing heavy, his face open like I've never seen it. His love for me is shining bright in his eyes and I know that even if I don't take his collar we will continue as we have been. "I can't decide if I want to fuck your mouth or your ass, first," he growls, his hand tightening in my hair. "Fuck it. You're in the perfect position to suck my dick." With his other hand he opens his pants and pulls out his erect cock. "I want to see your reaction to me, Baby Boy. Don't hold back." With that as my warning, he shoves his dick down my throat and holds me there for a very slow count of twenty.

I manage to take a deep breath before he forces me to deep throat him but there are still spots dancing behind my closed lids and the edges of my vision are starting to grey out by the time he pulls me back just enough for me to gulp in lungfuls of air through my nose.

"Don't make me come. Don't wanna come down your throat." He uses his grip on my hair to direct me in sucking his dick. I open my eyes to watch his face when he groans low in his throat and tightens his hand in my hair again pushing his way deep into my throat. He holds me there for two, three, four heartbeats and his cock twitches twice against my tongue, making me wonder if he is going to come down my throat despite not wanting to. "God, Baby Boy!" He pulls me off. "I just love how you suck me." He pulls me close and presses our foreheads together. "You look so hot with your lips wrapped around me." Heat blooms over my cheeks at his praise. "On the bed, Baby Boy." I move to crawl over to the bed. "Walk. I wanna watch that gorgeous ass of yours." If he doesn't stop, I'm going to burst into flames.

Rolling to my feet I walk as seductively as I can to the bed, fighting the urge to look over my shoulder at him. I know exactly how he wants me: lying on my back with my knees bent, feet flat on the mattress and spread wide and my hands over my head. I watch as he picks up the camera and takes a picture.

"Should sell some of these. Bet I could make a small fortune." He stands up and walks over to the bed, flicking through the saved photos on the camera. "But then again, I don't like others looking at that which belongs to me." He looks me in the eye. "And you belong to me. Don't you, Baby Boy?"

I nod and lick lips suddenly gone dry. It's in moments like this that I freely admit that he's owned me since I first laid eyes on him. No, that's not right. He's owned me since before I even knew he existed. Even though he brushed me off when I asked if he knew where I could find Dr. Jordan. It's why I tried to avoid being alone with him that first day.

He sits down on the edge of the mattress beside my left hip. "Today's been full of firsts for the both of us, hasn't it? Well, there are more to come."

My brows lower in confusion. It's not like I'm a virgin, despite the fact that he likes to pretend I am, so I don't see how him fucking me could be a first. There isn't even any position that would be a first for us. He's taken great pleasure in introducing to me every sexual position imaginable.

Even so, he does manage to surprise me by wrapping his fingers around my erection and licking the tip. Oh! That's one thing he hasn't ever done. He slowly strokes my length and stares into my eyes while licking his lips. "You've never had your dick sucked, have you?" I shake my head. Master smirks and swallows me whole. I clench my hands in the pillows under my head and grab desperately for the reins of my control. I haven't been given permission to come, just to let him see my reaction to him. He pulls off with an obscene pop.

"I think you're going to like what I have in mind, Baby Boy," he tells me, leaning down and sucking my tongue into his mouth. When he pulls back to breath, he murmurs, "Mm. You taste so good. I should kiss you like this more often," then goes back to sucking on my tongue.

A whine bubbles up from my throat when he releases my tongue in order to nibble on my jaw up to my ear. I want nothing more than to beg him to let me suck his tongue some more.

"Shush. Easy, Baby Boy. Soon, I promise." He stands up and I just blink up at him, wondering what he could possibly mean. From the bedside drawer he pulls two pairs of handcuffs and a rope and I know instantly what it is he has planned.

I love it when he ties me down while fucking me. It makes me feel safe, secure and loved. He clicks one of the cuffs around my left wrist then threads the chain through a bar he had added to the headboard under the mattress before clicking the other around my right wrist. My body relaxes even more as he secures the cuffs around my wrists, effectively binding me in place. He moves to my feet and I watch him through half-closed eyes. He locks my ankles in the cuffs then ties the cuffs to the bed frame in such a way that my knees are still bent. I'm slightly confused at this because with the way he has me tied, he can't fuck me.

With a nod, he steps back and slowly removes his clothes, licking his lips the whole time. "Gonna be so good," he mutters almost as if he's forgotten I'm there.

He pulls a bottle of lube from the drawer and rubs some on two fingers and when he reaches behind himself, I know what's about to happen. He's going to fuck himself on my dick. The thought has my cock twitching with definite interest. He pours some in the palm of his hand and slicks me up before straddling my hips and slowly impaling himself until he's sitting in the cradle of my hips.

"God, you feel so fucking good." My eyes roll back in my head and my self-control slips a little. "Don't come too soon, Baby Boy. Gotta make this last." He rocks back and forth, then twisting his hips in a circle, alternating clockwise and counterclockwise. He runs his hands up and down my torso, tweaking my nipples when he encounters them. The sound of our breathing is harsh in the quiet of the room. "You ready for this, Baby Boy?" I nod and he smirks. "You sure about that?" I nod some more. "Okay. Hold on tight." He puts his feet flat on the mattress and, bracing his hands on my knees, begins raising and lowering himself on my dick, angling it in a way that has the tip bumping against something that I'm fairly sure is his prostate.

He throws his head back and fucks himself faster, his own erection bobbing against his stomach. I so badly want to reach out and stroke him while he rides my dick. "Fuck!" he screams, thin ropes of come shooting from his cock and landing on my chest. The feeling of his muscles contracting around me pulls my own orgasm from me and with a gasp, I shoot my load deep into his guts. He collapses forward until he's braced on his forearms with his forehead resting on my mine.

His warm breath washes over my face when he chuckles. "I knew you'd be good. Just didn't know you'd be so good, I wouldn't even last five minutes." He nuzzles under my chin. "Say it, Baby Boy."

I lick my lips and say the words he has never said to me and that I'm dying to hear, "I love you."

"Do you, now?" His teeth toy with my earlobe.


He leans up so he can look at me. "Do you trust me?"

Again with the odd questions. "With my life."

"Good." He hisses when my softened dick slips out of his ass. "And now I remember why I don't do that very often." Rolling off me he picks up the handcuff key from the bedside table and uncuffs me, then wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me in tight to his side so that my head is pillowed on his chest.

I can hear his heart beating and it reminds me that today Mrs. Ayers can put her head on her husband's chest and hear a heart pumping blood through his body and know that he'll be around to watch their daughters grow up.

"Master?" I question softly. If he's sleeping I don't want to wake him.

"Hm?" he hums, rubbing his thumb in circles on my hip.

"Can I answer your question now?"

"If you think you've thought about it enough."

I twist my head to rest my chin on his chest so I can see his face. "I know I've thought about it enough, Master."

He tucks one head behind his head and just raises one brow. "Then by all means, please, answer my question."

I scoot up the bed so I can place a chaste kiss to his lips. "I'd be honored to wear your collar. I only ask one thing."

He sighs like I'm asking a lot, but I know he loves to spoil me. "And what would that be?"

"Make it something that doesn't look like a necklace. I don't want people to think I've started wearing a gold or silver chain should they see it."

A grin spreads slowly over his face. "Don't worry, Baby Boy. Anyone who sees the collar I'll be honoring you with will not for one instant think you've starting channeling some Guido from Jersey." He brings one hand up to cup the back of my head and pulls me down for a slow gentle kiss. "They will, however, wonder what it is."

That makes me immensely happy for some reason and I kiss him again. "Thank you, Master."

"You're welcome." He smoothes his hand down my back to cup my ass. "Now rest. We still have several hours in the day." With a contented sigh, I snuggle down against his side, my head once more pillowed on his chest. Just as I'm dropping off to sleep, I hear him whisper, "I love you." My heart soars and I slip off to sleep completely secure in the knowledge that I am truly and totally loved.


Or read it on my website.


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