The Things We Hide at Home

by Nem Rowan

  “Thank you. Now put yours on the floor and eat it like a dog,” I answered nonchalantly as I leaned into the sofa cushions and took a slice of pizza from the box on my lap.

  David hesitated and I half-expected him to ask me a question, but instead, he did as he was told. I observed covertly from the corner of my eye, wanting him to feel as though I didn’t really care to see what he was up to, when in fact, I was incredibly curious to watch how he followed through.

  He sank to his knees and opened the box, steam rising from the hot food inside to mist his spectacles. I could tell he was getting a bit embarrassed. In a bid to ease his tension, I took the television remote and turned on the screen, flicking through the channels until I found a documentary as a way to deflect some of the attention from him and put him at ease. This seemed to help somewhat because he was soon bent forward, supporting himself on his elbows as he attempted to eat the pizza without the use of his hands. The stretchy cheese caused him some difficulty and his glasses kept sliding down his nose. so he took them off. Meanwhile, I smiled to myself. He was trying his best and I couldn’t help how adorable I found his behaviour; he looked even cuter on his hands and knees, just where I wanted him.

  It was only after we’d eaten that things got serious. I felt revived by the brief respite, and so, after watching him struggle to eat for a further ten minutes of amusement, I took him upstairs to my bedroom.

  I didn’t tell him that was where we were going, but he seemed to guess as we ascended the stairs. The waves of anxiety and anticipation emanating from him only adding further to my own, but I knew that once I got into my role, it would all drain away and leave me able to enjoy his presence. My heart was pounding, not from exertion but from the anguish of waiting, the desire to leap into what I had planned.

  He hovered at my shoulder as I opened the door, revealing the double bed and its silent companions of bedside table and wardrobe. The curtains were open, and what had been a smattering of stars through the living room window, was now an entire galaxy of lights winking on the dark landscape beyond.

  After turning on the bedside lamp, I pointed to a spot in the centre of the room, and without needing to say a word, he moved to stand in it. It was clear that even though he lacked experience, he was so obedient he would require little discipline; I couldn’t imagine him intentionally disobeying me, but then again, perhaps that would change when he felt more confident. Constant obedience could get boring just as quickly as constant disobedience could get frustrating.

  The bedstead my mattress rested atop was something that Jake and I had purchased mutually some time ago. It had been purposely built from solid wood, constructed with removable panels at the sides that functioned as doors, disguising the thin cage bars that created a low-ceilinged space to store a submissive overnight.

  The end panel of the bed was my favourite part, however. When in place, it looked rather like an ornamental footboard to match the half-moon indentations carved into the headboard at the other end. Most people who saw it wouldn’t realise what it was for or notice that the end panel was removable. When lifted out and flipped upside down, it could be slotted back into place, lining up with three more half-moon indents on a foot of the panel remaining bolted to the bed’s primary legs, thus creating three holes. One for the slave’s neck, two for the slave’s wrists. It was my secret pillory, not just the most expensive piece of furniture I owned, but also my favourite for its ability to completely enclose my slave’s head, restraining him and giving me complete access to his helpless body.

  I lifted out the panel and placed it atop the duvet, aware that David was watching closely. He swallowed deeply when I approached him.

  “Nervous?” I whispered as I leaned close, my nose brushing against his chin. I gently kissed his throat, breathing in the scent of leather.

  “I trust you,” he whispered back. Goosebumps were pricking on his forearms.

  “I’m going to undress you down to your underwear.” I kept my voice hushed, as though to speak at full volume would scare him off. The thumping in my chest was spreading to my groin, everything below tightening, heightening my desire as my mind returned to that secret little joy I’d had in the locker room, revisiting the sight of my hand pushing his coat from his shoulders.

  “Whatever you want, Sir,” he mumbled, his eyes closing as I kissed his jaw.

  He shivered slightly when I lifted the hems of his shirt, the fabric gliding over the bare skin beneath and brushing across the greying line of body hair that trailed down his belly. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, so pulling the shirt over his head was no trouble. It gave me the opportunity to look at his body; he was thinner than I had expected and angular in some places, the faint lines of his ribs visible beneath his skin. It made me worry that he wasn’t eating right, that he wasn’t taking good care of himself. Like an abandoned pet, I wanted to take him in and care for him properly, give him the love he deserved. There was a fragility about him that roused the demon living inside of me, the same demon that inhabited Vanessa and Growler, too, a desire that I didn’t want to put into words, that I didn’t want to understand. I stroked my hands down his chest, admiring its natural shape and the wiry curl of hair beneath my palms, eating him alive with my eyes and imagining all the things I could do with this body that now belonged to me. I could see a protrusion in the shorts—my shorts—he was wearing. I tugged loose the bow he’d tied in the toggle laces, loosening the elastic waistband and slowly pushing down the shorts, taking care not to push down his underwear, too. Underneath, the hot chocolate stain on his y-fronts made me smile. His erection was causing the cotton fabric to tent, reaching out towards me in a bid to attract my attention, but I ignored it for the time being.

  “You see those gaps there? Go and put your neck in the centre one and your wrists in the smaller ones,” I told him, pointing at the bed once the shorts had pooled around his ankles.

  He nodded quickly, clasping his hands in front of himself to block my view of the bulge in his underwear as he shuffled towards the bed. Gingerly, he knelt and observed the darkness beneath the bed where his head would soon be enclosed, the space where I fantasised about keeping him, naked and subservient to my commands. He did as I had instructed, his limbs trembling slightly. The care-giver in me caused me to stroke his back, reassuring him that all he needed to utter was a single word and I would stop this immediately, but no sound left his lips, even as I slid the panel into place, trapping him there. I bolted the steel clasps atop the grooved posts that bore the panel, locking it into place, then I took a step back to admire the scene before me. He was totally helpless, unable to see what I was doing, unable to escape and forced to stay on his knees.

  “Okay, David?” I inquired, my mouth broadening into a grin.

  “Yes, Sir,” came the muffled response.

  I took that as a cue to begin. I moved to the wardrobe, opening the doors and pushing aside the dense curtain of hanging clothes to reach the suitcase tucked at the very back. I kept my playthings hidden away in here, partly because I didn’t want Gerard to ever see them, and also because if I left them laying around in view, it might frighten away any potential one-night-stands. I opened the suitcase on the bed and sorted through the jumble of wrist- and ankle-cuffs, gags, blindfolds, ticklers, vibrators, and other useful things. I had a selection of different canes and paddles, and from them I picked out a simple rattan switch. It was the least ornamental of the set, but the most vicious in its strike. I tested the flexibility of the supple branch, taking a moment to become familiar with it again after so many months of it being shut away in the wardrobe.

  My knees sank in the soft mattress as I clambered over it and perched atop the wooden panel, my feet dangling over either side of David’s vulnerable form. He shuddered when I trailed the end of the implement along his side, the slim cane tickling his sensitive flesh and causing him to whimper with alarm.

  “I’ve waited patiently to be able to do this to you,” I spoke, the cane’s tip
now making its way in a line along his spine. “Have you ever been spanked before?”

  “N-No, Sir, I haven’t.” I could make out a tinge of fear under the overwhelming thrill in his voice.

  “Do you like pain?”

  “I do like pain, Sir,” he replied, shivering as I stroked his hip with the length of the cane.

  “How much?”

  “However much Sir wishes to give to me.”

  I got the feeling that he was willing to go right up to his limits just to please me, and even then, would he say “mercy” once we reached them? Would I have to tell him we were stopping because I feared for him? I had never been with anyone so ready to freely offer their all to me. I had never had to call “Red” on a scene in the past because I feared things were going too far.

  Telling myself to stay in control, I lifted the cane. When its length struck his back, a second of silence followed where neither of us moved or made a sound, and I smiled down at him as the pain no doubt sank in, seeping through his nerve endings on its way to his brain, where at last, he made a gasping cry of surprise.

  I didn’t give him a chance to work through it; the cane struck again and the cry he made was much louder. Two red lines began to emerge, slicing through the whiteness of his back to create an X over his shoulders. I looked on as he writhed for a minute, his spine arching and his knees sliding forward as he curled up and moaned.

  “That was just a test,” I told him, shuffling forward so I could drop to my feet and step around him. “Stop that whining now, come on. Get back on your knees.”

  When he delayed in obeying, I tapped his leg to get his attention and he soon stretched his body, giving me an excellent view of his backside and open thighs. I could see he was still rock hard, too. That was a good sign.

  The briefs that imprisoned his erection were getting in my way, though; they would have to come off. He went still when I began to pull them down to his knees; I could tell he was embarrassed, that having his body exposed this way was humiliating. It was driving me mad, though, my cheeks flaming and my own body hot with lust. I gave his backside a few gentler taps, leaving gaps in between to let him get used to what was coming before I finally made a harder slap.

  As if expecting the next strike to come, he went rigid, and when it finally hit, he groaned loudly as the switch cracked across his bare buttocks, the skin immediately growing pink from the impact. I held off, letting him savour it for a moment, telling myself to stretch it out longer, not to get overexcited. Though I punished him with pain, I punished myself with my own self-control, holding back my desire to touch him and caress him all over. Instead, I channelled that desire into my whipping arm; the next strike was harder and louder, the next cry rougher and quieter. After each impact that followed, I paused for several seconds, watching my handiwork glowing red across his backside, his back arcing downwards, further and further, revealing himself to me.

  I had imagined all the things we could do together, and deciding what to do with him next was a pleasurable dilemma. If I continued caning him the way I was, pretty soon he’d start to bleed. The welts were beginning to rise, embossed in his flesh and surrounded by a rash of pink mottling. There was no way I’d be able to push him to his limit so I had to set one for him. His whole body was overcome with spasms and he had ceased to make a sound as he knelt there, shaking like a leaf in the wind. I lowered the cane and stepped back. What a beautiful sight he made.

  His heavy panting was audible through the wooden panels that obscured his head from view, and from time to time, he made a little whimper that found its way straight into my heart. I put the switch on the bed, and after pausing briefly to check that he was alright, I headed downstairs to the kitchen, searching in the freezer for the ice cube tray and emptying them into a bowl. I filled it with cold water and a drop of antiseptic, adding a soft wash cloth to soak, then climbing the stairs to the bedroom again.

  David had gone still and I could tell he was trying to figure out what I was up to, listening intently to my movement around him in the dark. Placing the bowl on the floor, I sat beside him, smiling as I slowly ran my hand along his back, my fingertips sending a startled shiver through him. When my hand reached his buttocks, he whimpered again and I felt the feverish heat from his welts and the raised lines that slashed across in stripes.

  “What are you doing, Sir?” he inquired meekly when he heard the sound of swishing water.

  “Just something to cool you off,” I replied, wringing the cloth so it wouldn’t drip so much before placing it over his sore backside.

  “That’s cold!” he exclaimed, his hips jerking away from me in a bid to escape the icy touch of the cloth, but it was already draped over him by then.

  “Stay still!” I reminded him, giving the back of his thigh a light slap.

  He shuffled back into position, droplets of water running down his thighs and navigating the obstacle course of hairs. His erection had softened slightly during the space of time I’d left the room, so I reached under him and cautiously touched it. Like his scored buttocks, it felt warm.

  “Shall I let you out, David? Or shall I keep you here like this, all night, while I go to bed?” I leaned my cheek against his shoulder, turning my head so I could kiss his arm. His organ had sprung to life as soon as I had taken it in my hand, distracting him from the cold of the cloth and the soreness of his whip-marks.

  “I will stay here if Sir wants me to,” he murmured.

  “All night?”

  “I will do anything for my Master.”

  Satisfied with his response, I rose and took away the bowl. Perhaps he thought I really did intend to keep him locked there until morning; if that was the case, I was surprised he had nothing to say about it. I believed that if I chose to do just that, he would go through with it. I didn’t want to test all of his limits in one go; we had time to explore them further. He was silent as I undid the clasps and pulled the panel out of place, his head tilting to the side so he could look up at me, but he didn’t move out of position until I told him to. I peeled away the wet cloth and put it with the bowl on the bedside table, beckoning him to his feet and leaving him standing there awkwardly while I replaced the panel.

  Now it was my turn to feel nervous; he couldn’t see it from the outside, the shyness I felt and the fear that he would reject my body, but I had to trust him just as he had trusted me. Though our roles were different, our power dynamic was balanced; we were equal. I stood before him, rising on tiptoes so I could kiss him, and as he reciprocated, his mouth tentative at first, I felt the press of his firm organ between our bellies. His hands seemed confused about where to go, so I placed them on my hips.

  “You don’t have to ask to touch me,” I whispered against his ear. “Do what you want; you’ve got my permission.”

  “Can I please you, Sir?” he replied, his voice a low murmur as he buried his nose in my hair, breathing in my scent.

  “Yes, if you’re confident you can,” I agreed, repeating the words we’d sent to each other in text form not so long again.

  “I’ll do my best.” He cowed slightly, again holding his hands in front of his erection as I moved away from him towards the bed.

  The thudding of my heartbeat grew more intense as I pulled my vest over my head and cast it aside, allowing him to see the two pale scars that ran along the curves of my pectoral muscles, the black hair that curled from my chest and created a dark stripe from the base of my neck, all the way to the waistband of my jeans where it spread across my muscular belly. I had worked hard for this body, lifted weights, dieted, cared for it, injected it with hormones and gone under the knife for it, and I was proud of it. It had taken years before I looked on the outside the way I felt on the inside.

  David’s eyes had widened somewhat and he stared at me as if in amazement. Surely he had seen me topless in the photos on my ChainLink profile? I knew the expression on his face was a positive one but I couldn’t help feeling timid then, so I did my best to make a show of
confidence. I sat on the edge of the bed and unbuttoned my jeans. His throat contracted as he swallowed deeply, looking on in silence as I slid my jeans down my legs and dropped them to the floor. The bulge in the front of my briefs was evident, and I wondered if he had expected me to still have my old parts, but if that was what he was thinking, he didn’t say it.

  “Come here.” I gestured to the spot in front of me. “Get down on your knees, slave.”

  “Yes, Sir…” he mumbled, still gazing at me transfixed as he came forward, kneeling between my open legs. His close proximity caused a flourish of goosebumps to raise the hair on my skin and I became highly aware of how near he was, how few inches his face was from the parts I had kept hidden from him.

  “Pull my underwear aside,” I instructed, my command a whisper.

  He lifted his hands, the hands he’d been so afraid of letting me see, lowered them for a second as he hesitated, then lifted them again, reaching forward. I looked down my chest, watching as he hooked the fabric under his finger and pulled it out and over to the other side. My erection was half the size of his, artificially created by a clever surgeon, but no less sensitive and equally as hard. I made eye contact with David, daring him with a rather mischievous smile to ask me any questions, but he only smiled back as he rested his hands on my thighs, waiting for permission to begin.

  * * * *

  I woke to the luxury of a warm body lying beside me. The soft soles of another’s feet touching my shins, the cosiness of company enveloping me, the shape of my lover’s back pressed to my front as we fitted together side by side, two halves of the same form. His hand held onto mine, clutching it to his bare belly as my breath blustered through the forest of hair that grew on the back of his head. Milky sunlight was straying through the hazy downpour outside as traffic streamed along the main road below, but it was a world away from us. We were distant, enclosed in the sanctuary of each other’s embrace. I opened my eyes briefly, saw what time it was from the alarm clock, and closed them again; I didn’t need to get up just yet. As if sensing I was no longer deep in sleep, David made a muffled sigh and moved slightly.