Tamed

by T M Chris

  The woman in her dainty ruffles smirked at him, and Jake thought fuck you, he’s mine, and dropped to his knees so hard his kneecaps cracked against the tile. Let her compete with that. Eduardo nodded at him approvingly, then went back to the woman.

  “As I was saying, Rebecca, you’ll find a crate improves his behavior considerably.”

  Rebecca didn’t look like a Domme. Must be a switch. Well, whatever she was, she should go find whoever needed to be put in a crate and put him there. Leave Eduardo alone.

  Would Eduardo put Jake in a crate? He might not mind having a place he could go if he was feeling ragey, where he wouldn’t be able to break anything or scare anyone. He was conflicted about restraints in general. They were a way for his partner to maintain control despite a size discrepancy, but when his body was restrained, his mouth usually got worse. And when that got restrained too? Then he flipped out completely and Doms told him “it stopped being fun.”

  Jake sighed. He was a loser, and this whole thing was pointless. The trouble wasn’t the Doms he played with. The trouble was him.

  He started to get to his feet, but Eduardo said settle, so he settled. He’d chased Eduardo down to shove a list in his face. He could wait until it got read.

  Rebecca went away—thank you, Rebecca. Eduardo took his hand off Jake’s head to unfold the kink list then put it right back on there, scratching mindlessly as he read. Jake kept his eyes lowered. A minute ago he’d been mad, but now he was embarrassed about having body slammed Eduardo with a messy piece of paper that had another sub’s name written across it.

  “Do you know who Earl is?” Eduardo asked.

  “Your sub?”

  “What makes you think so?”

  “I heard you talking that day—about Earl and what he needed from you.”

  “Structure? Sternness?”

  Jake nodded yes to all that.

  “I didn’t say anything about punishing Earl. I don’t punish Earl. Not in any way you’d find on this paper.”

  “Because Earl behaves himself all the time like a fucking pussy?”

  A sharp rap landed on Jake’s nose. “That’s a word you won’t be using. You will not denigrate women, gay men, or anyone else for that matter. Is that understood?”

  Jake grumbled something that was almost a yes and received another sharp rap for it.

  “Yes, okay? I know I shouldn’t. I’m sorry.”

  “Better. Now, to get back to my point. I believe you do want to be punished.”

  “I’ll deserve it. Even if Earl doesn’t.” He already did, apparently.

  “Oh? You’re planning to disobey, are you?”

  “Can’t help it.” There, he’d told Eduardo the truth. “I’ll do the same to you as I do to anyone. Ask around. They’ll tell you.”

  “I have, and they did.” Eduardo crouched down next to him. “Is it for show, or would you really assault me?”

  “Neither. I don’t do it on purpose. I just get…”

  “You go into combat mode.”

  “Yeah. But I wouldn’t hurt you, wouldn’t touch you. I’ve never done that.”

  “So I’ve learned. Very well. I believe we understand each other.”

  They did? That was a surprise to Jake, who didn’t even understand himself. He’d agreed he wouldn’t hurt Eduardo, but what else had he agreed to? Somehow Eduardo had gotten more out of that checklist than he’d expected.

  He felt a little panicked. He’d ticked some of the boxes out of contrariness, which didn’t seem very smart now, but then it never was. That was exactly how he got himself into these messes. He acted out in a fit of temper, did something completely counterproductive to his own best interests, and then slogged through the resultant shitstorm knowing he deserved it.

  Just once, just for sometimes, he’d like to not live in the middle of a shitstorm.

  Eduardo stood up, his knees making little popping noises as he did. “I could never be a submissive. My knees wouldn’t bear it. But you do beautifully on your knees, don’t you, big guy?”

  He pulled Jake’s face into his crotch like he had the other night, and Jake went willingly, taking deep breaths to find the scent that’d haunted him these last two weeks. It was there—subtle but reassuring. He’d knelt for Eduardo before, and Eduardo had said he’d done good after. He could do this.

  Above him, Eduardo had his phone in hand. “I’d like to start a regular regime. Consistency is key, I find. What time do you get out of work?”

  Jake gave him his hours, and Eduardo typed them in.

  “All right then. Tomorrow night, I want you to go home, eat, shower, and be at my place at seven.”

  “Your place?” Jake rocked his head back to look up at the smiling Dom who ruffled a hand through his hair.

  “Yeah, my place. You’re going to need to meet Earl.”

  *****

  So Earl got to live with him, huh? Lucky Earl.

  Or maybe not. Maybe Eduardo was hell to live with. Jake sure was. He’d never had a roomie the whole time he’d been in the Marines who could stand him. Sure, he seemed like an okay guy at first—quiet and clean without being obsessive about either—but eventually something would go wrong and he’d get in a mood. Then it’d be pushups and jumping jacks and hour-long showers and day-long naps. Or worse.

  The holes in the walls. The yelling.

  He always hated himself for it after, and it wasn’t as if guys in the service had the most even tempers. They looked the other way on a lot of shit, knowing sometimes you had to get your rage out. But eventually it always got to be too much for his roommates and they bailed. Put in for another housing assignment or moved off base. Whatever they had to do to get away from him.

  Fucking Earl, though, who never needed to be punished. No one bailed on him, Jake would bet. Apparently this guy was so goody-goody he didn’t even realize he ought to be pissed about his Dom bringing another sub home. No way Jake would let his Dom get away with that shit. He’d be out of there in a flash. Even the idea of sharing Eduardo with someone who had dibs on him didn’t sit well. Earl better not be watching their scene, that was for sure. Watching and judging his perfect, smart ass off. If Jake heard one comment out of him—

  He rang Eduardo’s doorbell with one foot already pointed away from the door. The cozy bungalow wasn’t what he’d been expecting. Too small and cute. He was surprised Eduardo hadn’t whipped its crooked corners into a uniform compliancy, hadn’t commanded the building to stand up straighter, refusing to allow it to slouch into the shrubbery where it blended into the hodgepodge of blooming plants surrounding it. Jake lost a little of his glower as he surveyed the honeysuckle twining over the door mantle. He half-expected Little Red Riding Hood’s grandmother to answer the door, but it was Eduardo.

  “Thanks for agreeing to meet here.” Eduardo ushered Jake into a small foyer tiled in dark brown. “I wouldn’t have suggested it if you weren’t big enough to take care of yourself, but we’ll be more comfortable here, and I always prefer privacy for punishment.”

  He was being punished already? “I haven’t done anything wrong,” he complained as he toed off his shoes in response to Eduardo’s gesture.

  “You don’t think so? Well, we’ll discuss that, amongst other things. All your clothes off, please. I keep the house at a temperature warm enough to allow it.”

  As if Jake needed it to be eighty to get naked. He was a fucking Marine. But that explained why Eduardo was only wearing a pair of grey athletic shorts and a navy t-shirt.

  “Today, please,” Eduardo drawled when Jake hesitated after folding his shirt into a tidy rectangle and leaving it on the bench at the side of the foyer.

  It wasn’t the temperature that had him hesitating, nor was it any fear about how he looked naked. He looked good naked, and he damn well knew it. He flexed his pecs, but that failed to either impress Eduardo or distract him.

  “I gotta meet Earl naked?” A man wanted to be clothed to meet his rival. And he didn’t want to play with E
arl. He should’ve put that on his form when he’d had the chance. No outside parties, no spectators.

  “Of course. Earl.” Eduardo smiled a smile that didn’t make any sense. “How could I have forgotten?” He put his fingers between his lips and gave a high whistle. The responding clatter of claws tipped Jake off even before a Doberman came careening around the corner.

  Earl was a big one, all right, but he went right up to Eduardo to sit obediently at his feet, his head tilted to suggest he was keeping an eye on the stranger. Eduardo put a hand on Earl’s head and presented him proudly.

  “He’s a beauty, isn’t he? A rescue with a problematic past. He had a hard time adjusting, but I think he’s settled in now. Just needed a firm hand and a little positive correction, didn’t you, boy?” Eduardo crouched down and gave Earl his face to nuzzle. “Come on down here and meet him. You okay with dogs?”

  “Love them.” He got down next to Eduardo on the tile floor and let Earl smell him. Earl was dark all over except for caramel feet and a matching snout. “How long have you had him?”

  “About six weeks now. He was a mess when he came here—alternately skittish and aggressive—but he’s a fine dog now. I’d trust him with my life.” Eduardo rose. “Go to your bed, Earl. Bed.”

  The dog hesitated, obviously preferring to remain with the two of them. Maybe Eduardo didn’t have Earl as well trained as he thought. But then Earl turned and trotted off as commanded.

  Well, damn. So Earl really was perfect. And here Jake had already been sentenced to punishment when he hadn’t done more than set foot in the house. He took off the rest of his clothes before Eduardo could reiterate the order and was told to kneel.

  “We’re going into the living room. I want you to stay on your knees and follow me. You’re familiar with the command heel?”

  “I’m not crawling after you like a fucking dog. I’m not into that.”

  “Then you should’ve written that down. You can crawl or not, your choice. But you’re to stay on your knees and follow at my heel.” Eduardo strode off as if he didn’t need to look to know Jake would follow, and after a moment of internal warfare, Jake did. Not on his hands and knees like a dog, because fuck that, but up on his knees like a man. Like a man who was walking on his knees, whatever the hell that meant.

  The tile, which hurt, gave way to wood, which also hurt. His knees were already bruised from that swan dive yesterday, and now every ounce of his two hundred and sixty pounds drove them like a pile driver into the unyielding surface beneath him. And all the while, Eduardo walked on, not quicker than Jake could manage to keep up but not checking on him either, just a sedate stroll toward an unknown stopping point.

  Wood gave way to rug—soft and black, high-piled like shag, a rectangle of it, on which rested a glass coffee table and a dark brown leather couch. Eduardo seated himself on the couch and patted his inner thigh to bring Jake closer. Jake’s knees throbbed. He’d been a fool to abuse them when he didn’t know how much time he was about to spend on them.

  Some pain could make him fly—take him out of his body and all the problems that lived inside it. That pain—the kind that came from order being imposed—made him feel like all his mismatched bones were being broken and reset, rendering him straight and whole again. But the pain in his knees right now wasn’t that kind of pain. It was the kind of pain that reminded him of his first week of boot camp, when he’d been alone—lost and homesick—regretting that he’d put himself there, not sure he was good enough to survive it, feeling like in all the world there wasn’t a soul who would help him.

  Eduardo pulled Jake’s face in tight against his groin and did that soothing thing with his hand, stroking him like he did Earl. Taming the wild beast.

  “Do you often do this to yourself—cause unnecessary harm out of stubbornness?”

  “Sometimes.” Only every day.

  “We’re going to stop that behavior.”

  “We are?” Jake rolled his face up to see Eduardo’s.

  “Perhaps I should say I am. If you were capable of stopping it yourself, you’d have done so.”

  That stung because it was true. No matter how often he told himself to count to ten or grin and bear it, he couldn’t change how he reacted in the moment. Which was with a fuck-you rebellion that never hurt anyone except him.

  “Let’s go over the rules,” Eduardo said, stroking Jake’s head back down into the valley of his groin. “You already learned some of them. You’re to disrobe when you arrive. When I tell you to follow me, you’ll heel. I suggest using your hands, but”—Eduardo shrugged—“don’t expect leniency in other ways if you choose not to. The punishments I administer will be specific, fair, and of limited duration, whereas the harm you bring on yourself is open-ended and potentially out of proportion. Something for you to think on.”

  “Like you said, I’ve already thought on it plenty. Hasn’t changed anything.”

  “Exactly. Hence my punishments, which I’ll administer whenever you fail to follow the rules. Rule three: don’t damage my property. You are my property. Rule four, all tasks are to be completed diligently, showing proper respect for the fact that I gave them to you. Five—”

  “How many rules are there?”

  “Very well. Five. No interruptions or backtalk of any kind. Six—” Eduardo paused, giving Jake the chance to dig himself in deeper, but he managed to keep his mouth shut for a change. “Six, during punishment I expect you to address me as sir. At other times, anything respectful will be fine.” He paused, then added. “Please don’t shorten my name to Ed. The short form of Eduardo is Lalo.”

  “Lalo,” Jake repeated. Eduardo’s dick had plumped up a little. It made a nice bulge against his face—firm and masculine through the light layer of grey cotton. Maybe Eduardo would fuck him after punishing him, except there wasn’t likely to be an after. Why bother setting out rules as if this night were going to be repeated over and over when it would inevitably end with Eduardo throwing him out of the house?

  Most Doms wouldn’t have taken a chance on having him in their home—not given his reputation for non-compliance—but now that he’d seen Earl he understood why Eduardo wasn’t worried about what Jake might to do him. Earl monitored them closely from a fleece-lined, bright blue doggie bed inside an amply large crate, the door to which stood conveniently open. One command, and he’d tear Jake limb from limb.

  “So,” Eduardo said, “now that you understand the rules, can you tell me why you’re going to punished tonight?”

  Jake went back over them in his head. Naked, check. Heel when following, check. He had damaged himself by walking on his knees down the hardwood hallway, but Eduardo had told him he was getting punished as soon as he came in the door, so it wasn’t only that. All tasks to be completed diligently— Oh.

  “Because I didn’t fill out the form right?”

  “Because you didn’t fill out the form at all. You defaced the form, but you didn’t fill it out. I gave you a task, and I expected it to be completed.”

  Jake scowled. “Picking out my own punishments isn’t punishment. That’s just getting off.”

  “Many people do get off on BDSM. They would consider getting off to be the point. Tell me what the point is to you.”

  “I just want it to be real.”

  “Real punishment?”

  Jake nodded.

  “Because you deserve it?” Eduardo hummed when Jake nodded again. “The reason for the checklist is that I want to discipline you without harming you. Punishment is steady, bearable, corrective. A little humiliating, a little painful, but not traumatizing or triggering. So you’re going to try that form again, but this time I just want you to highlight the things that are hard no’s for you. I’ll manage the rest. How does that sound?”

  “I can do that.”

  “All right then. Punishment.” Eduardo picked up a black leather glove from the end table and tugged it onto his right hand, fastening the Velcro strap snugly around his wrist. “Lists aside, I
use hand spankings almost exclusively when it comes to punishment, so that’s what we’ll be doing tonight. Ten for failing to execute on the task I assigned you and ten more for causing unnecessary damage to your knees.”

  Twenty spanks administered by hand was nothing. Eduardo shouldn’t even need a glove for it. Still, it wasn’t fair.

  “I didn’t know the rules when—”

  “Ten for talking back.”

  “I can’t even fucking point out that—”

  “Ten more.”

  Shit. Forty. Suddenly the glove made sense. The devil on Jake’s shoulder tempted him to keep going. He didn’t deserve ten for walking on his knees when Eduardo had said he could, but he probably deserved more than ten for making such a mess out of that form.

  And the talking back. He’d definitely been talking back when he could’ve shut up and taken twenty easy. Now they were getting into the range where he might start fighting, and fuck, he wanted this to work. He really did. Eduardo was so smooth, so certain. So handsome in an upright way, like an idol Jake didn’t dare approach.

  So why was he arguing with him? He swallowed his tongue, casting his eyes downward in an attempt at showing obedience.

  “All right then,” Eduardo said in the same tone he’d used to add to Jake’s punishment. “Up you go, over my lap.”

  “I’m not going over your lap.”

  “Fifty.”

  “Fuck, Eduardo.” He needed to be restrained to a bench or something. He would thrash, possibly do damage. “I’m not going to fucking fit over—”

  “Seventy.”

  Jake opened his mouth to question how they’d just jumped from fifty to seventy, but Eduardo held up a finger to stop him, and Jake wisely shut it again.

  “Think, Jake. What other rule did you just break?”

  Rule one, naked. Rule two, heel. Rule three, no property damage. Rule four, complete tasks diligently. Rule five, no talking back—man, he’d fucked that one up. Rule six—

  “Call you sir when I’m being punished.”

  “Good boy.”

  Jake beamed at the praise, realizing that the time he’d spent reviewing the rules had lowered the wall of resistance that’d been going up, much like counting to ten did when he actually remembered to do it.