Howdy. This is a super short standalone that I had found on my laptop when I was cleaning out some files, it contains BDSM between two consenting male adults. I recognize that this is a far cry from the "Hooking the Hockey Player" series and rest assured more chapters will be coming in the near future. Hope you enjoy, Artie.
*****
Anxiety boiled in my gut as I watched the headlights of his car flash by. He was going way too fast for the twisting driveway. I, listened barely breathing, for the sound of metal twisting but luckily none came. I heaved a sigh of relief that he was home safe, moments later the door from our garage slammed closed. On any other day he would have more than heard about his recklessness and the slamming of doors. Not today. Alex wasn't being himself, but it had been a bad day, to put it lightly.
The news had broken in the late morning, the numbers for a product he hadn't even pushed for were in and they were bad. The new interface had been the last project for his esteemed predecessor but the project hadn't been anywhere near completion. The board members had insisted that the project be delivered in the original timeframe and thus had gotten an ill-refined product. The failure had cast doubt upon Alex's ability to lead. I had seen the vitriol on line, I hoped he had been shielded from the worst of it.
I listened closely, to his soft sigh before he stepped from the darkness of the hallway. His face was a cast of defiance. All day, he was a captain of industry, a businessman, and a dominant personality. But that was a lie. Alex was a gifted engineer that would have been happier in the lab than in the boardroom but he was more than capable of handling this or any other fallout. His biggest lie was his in controlled attitude, at his core Alex was a submissive. My submissive.
I leaned impassively against the marble column of the house he had bought. I had told him it was an ostentatious show of wealth. He had smiled with the relator looking on. He had glanced at me to assess if I would be angry if he signed the papers, "You deserve this house. You deserve it all." Without waiting for a response, he had signed and the house officially belonged to him. He had tried to put my name on the deed but I had staunchly refused, if he wanted the house it was his to bear. Now he just looked small amongst the opulence.
He stood with his hands fisted at his sides, shoulders tense as if he expected me, like the board members, reviewers, and customers, to yell at him. This morning when he left his suit had been crisp, the pleats immaculate, now his tie was askew and the material was wrinkled. He looked shrunken, as if the weight of responsibility was pushing him into the ground. I hadn't seen his eyes yet with him glaring at his shoes. His eyes were expressive, saying even when he wouldn't (or couldn't) tell me what he was feeling.
"Alex," his shoulders tensed even more, like a dog's hackles rising, "look at me." His green eyes met my brown, as ever his beauty entranced me but I was lost in his emotions. I saw anger, fear, confusion, but mostly I saw a tired man. His weariness made me want to give him a hug.
I pushed away from the wall to give him comfort, but he sank to his knees. If he had been naked he would have been in the perfect presenting position. He kneeled with his legs spread, palms face up on his thighs. His posture was straight but not relaxed. He was really hurting, but I was only slightly dismayed that he chose to go with his nature and try to escape in this way.
Alex was a wonderful submissive, he was challenging but not bratty. Our fetishes and kinks lined up well. Except, he had a much higher pain threshold than I can bear to inflict. My need to give him exactly what he needed always warred with my abhorrence of hurting him. This had become slightly easier over the years as Alex and I had grown together deepening our roles as both Dom and sub and as husbands. It also has been eased by the play sessions we engage in at a local club, though it was just as much hell watching my beautiful sub, and husband being played with by another man. All to please him.
"May I speak Sir?" He gritted out.
I sighed softly, relieved that he wanted to talk at all, "Yes you may." I wanted to tack on his name but didn't if he wanted to be in a submissive state, I would allow him for now.
"I deserve punishment, Sir." Christ, there were so many things wrong with that sentence, his voice had cracked betraying that he was on the verge of tears. He didn't deserve punishment for anything he had done today other than being too reckless driving but I was more than willing to let it go. I knew that he was trying to ask for an escape but his fear and anger was driving him to forget himself.
"Is that for you to decide?" I let a bit of my commanding, imperious tone seep into the words and watched his shoulders relax a fraction and watched his cock jump in his pants. He really needed to not be in control, he couldn't handle it on his own. He was just going about the wrong way.
"I'm sorry, Sir. No, it's not my place. Will you please punish me?" Lord, he sounded so defeated. I would much rather pull my sub into my arms and promise that work, life, everything would be better soon. But he wasn't in the place for that to do him good. His self-flagellation would only stop once I had absolved him of his imagined sins.
"Stand," He immediately complied, even when he is a ball of nerves he is graceful. He was classically handsome, a few years older than me but still young—too young for so much pressure to be put on him. "Strip."
Alex was shaking slightly, whether from fear or anticipation I wasn't sure. He quickly and methodically got out of his clothes, very unlike him. He would normally be doing a veritable peep show, taunting me with glimpses of his hewn body. I often laughed with him after that I would sign him up for pole dancing lessons. All the normal intrigue and lightness was gone, he simply obeyed folding the suit neatly.
He was naked save for his wedding ring, even its luster seemed dampened by the dark cloud that surrounded him. He kept his eyes on the ground despite my order to look up as I approached him. I circled the love of my life, my sub, my husband so still, I could tell he was calmer now than he had been when he had first come in.
I ran my hand, letting my own ring abrade, over his shoulder blades. He was all lightly tanned skin stretched over corded muscle. In a physical fight, Alex would easily be able to over-power me, that's why his submission was always so powerful. I never had to make him do anything, he would always accept what I was demanding.
He had grown up rich with the best of everything life had to offer. Years of private tutors and top level training had left his mind sharp and the years of personal trainers made his body strong. The past few months had been nearly impossible for him. He had lost weight, only eating when I forced him to. Stress and sadness had dissolved his appetite, but like a weight lifter in the cutting stage somehow his lack of nutrition had made his muscles stand out in higher relief. Though I vainly enjoyed seeing every perfect line of muscle, I worried about his mind.
I could see standing behind him, that he was about to speak so I waited, "Please Sir, I need this." He really did. With one last loving caress down his back, I wound my hand around his neck. His breath caught, surprised at the action especially when I squeezed gently, not cutting off air but asserting my dominance over him. His head tilted back, exposing his throat.
"Go to the play room, kneel by the bench." I spoke from my chest, deepening my voice. I let go of his neck as I felt a shudder of exhilaration go up his spine.
I watched him walk away from me, leaving behind everything he had taken to work. He would be annoyed when he found out I had moved his clothing into the pile of things to be dry cleaned but would my sweet little submissive do? I grabbed his key fob which went to a Lamborghini; I hated that car. He drove too fast in it, and it was so gaudy just like his—our—house.
As I placed the fob into the glass dish, I remembered when I had just collared him around 2 years into our relationship. Alex had tried to buy me a Lamborghini as well, he had snuck it into the garage and at first I thought he had bought himself another one. But no, the midnight blue one was meant for me, I remember his pouty face when I staunchly refused. He was always so intent on showering me with wealth. I had no interest in Alex's money; I wanted to live simply but happily. Whenever I would get away with it I only used my own money. Most of our fights were about this, his wanting to lavish his affection on me through material objects: he never seemed to get that his affection was so palpable. Our fights usually ended with Alex screaming a few orgasms despite a gag in his mouth.
I slid his phone into a charging port and saw that the display was already filling with notifications. I shook my head as his job which had taken my sweet computer geek, albeit a very rich and strong computer geek, and turned him into a man who would lash out due to stress and sadness.
I turned away from the life that had brought my sweet Alex so much success but so much tension and walked to my playroom. If there was one thing this gaudy mansion had going for it, it was space. I had been able to design the ultimate playroom, though Alex, in his rather overdramatic fashion, called it a dungeon. Whatever got his rocks off was fine with me.
Stepping into the play room brings me into a state of calm, he wasn't the only person who had needed this. I had gotten the news over Twitter, not even from Alex, he hadn't been able to call me the whole day. Not being able to protect him had been maddening. I had watched anchor after anchor discuss his supposed incompetence. I had seen the press releases disparaging his company. There had been nothing I could do, leaving a voicemail with encouraging word had seemed so impotent. I had needed to protect my sub and I couldn't.
Now I had him, I possessed him in this room, fully. Sure, my control over Alex extended outside of this room but it was never as tangible as it was in this space. I was still wearing my black jeans but I took off my t-shirt. Unlike Mr. Corporate, I was still in school. A PhD candidate intent on being a professor for the rest of my days so my look was never quite as refined, but perfect for the college sphere. I hoped that the feel of my skin would bind us together even when I was hurting him.
Seemingly ignoring him, I stalked around the room keeping my eyes on him in the periphery. He was always very easy to read, the way his breath kicks up a notch when I open a certain drawer, the way he unconsciously flexes his fingers revealing his anticipation.
First things, first. When I had collared him we had acknowledged that wearing my collar outside of the house would be picked up by the press—an unacceptable outcome. The collar, a wide soft leather band with a single d ring in the center, always cemented us in our roles. Closing it around Alex's neck I felt more powerful, stronger, in control of this and all situations. I watched as Alex's tension melted away but his hard cock gave a jerk. Even at the end of his rope submission could get to him.
