by Jay Lygon
I nodded.
He patted the couch. “Come up here. Something’s got you worked up. Tell me.”
I huddled in the corner of the couch and hugged the throw pillow. “G-G-G-olden Globes.”
“That telecast isn’t until January, Sam. Months away. You’re going to be a mess by December if you don’t stop working yourself up like this. And you’re stuttering again.”
There was a little piece of white fluff sticking out of the seam on the pillow. I pulled at it. More fluff came out. Hector snatched the pillow away from me.
“My therapist says it’s a psycho-something stutter at this point, since I don’t stutter over anything else. I told him to watch the telecast if he thought that was the only word I had trouble with. It’s going to be a disaster.”
“Only if you convince yourself that it will be.”
I nodded. “He said that, too.”
“Say Oscars.”
“Oscars. But I’m not worried about that telecast,” I said. I glanced around the living room. My legs jittered until Hector put his hand on my thigh and gave me a stern poppa look.
“Why aren’t you worried about the Oscars?” he asked.
“Because I’m going to fail so spectacularly at the G-G-G-olden Globes that the magazine will tell me I don’t have to work their red carpet show for the Oscars.”
“You have it all figured out, don’t you, Sam? You know, there’s a word for boys like you. Manipulative. You’re going to sabotage yourself so that you can weasel out of your promise to do those shows. You signed a contract with them, Boy. You gave them your word.”
My mouth dropped open. “I’m not doing it on purpose, Sir! I swear. I don’t want to humiliate myself in front of millions of viewers.”
“Is that a promise, Boy? Your word on it?”
Why did I feel as if he’d trapped me? “My word on it,” I grumbled.
Hector’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Good. Now, about shopping. You have two nice tuxedos now, but since you’re already looking forward to the Golden Globes, I can, too, and I think we need to get you something special to wear that night.”
He was in super-shopper mode. There’d be no stopping him. My shoulders slumped.
Hector leaned across the couch so that his face was inches from mine. I leaned closer to him, willing him to pin me down and kiss me like he’d fuck me -- rough and demanding.
“Do you know what I’d really like?” His voice dropped into a deep bass rumble that went right to my groin.
Hope and lust was a heady combination. “What?”
A slow, evil grin spread over his face, as if he knew how hard I was.
He sat back suddenly and waved his hands. “No. You’d just act up, and I’ve had enough of disciplining you today.”
My mind was already deep in thoughts of sex, and like a sleeper pulled out of a great dream, I wasn’t too happy about it. “I’ll be good, Papi.”
Hector cocked his head to the side. His finger slowly traced my collar, then across the hollow of my throat, where the heat of his hand made my pulse jump. “Would you do what I asked, no matter what it was?”
That hypnotic touch had me under a spell. Whenever he talked to me like that, I knew he was going to hustle me into something. Maybe I’d regret giving in later, but I wasn’t thinking with the brain above my waist. “Anything.”
“I want.” His hand slid to the back of my head. “You.” He leaned toward me. “To.” His fingers grasped my hair. “Wear.” Our mouths were only a breath apart. “A kilt.”
Bastard! That sneaky, double-crossing, rat bastard! I jerked away from him. “No.”
“No? You gave your word, Sam.”
“I won’t do it.” Damn cock tease.
Hector crawled across the couch until he was over me, his fists sinking into the cushion above my shoulders. Somehow, I’d slipped down onto my back and was trapped between his big thighs and arms. One very angry poppa bear glared down at me. Then the flare of temper in his eyes cooled to complete control. “Do you know what I do to boys who break their promises?” he asked.
I lowered my gaze and walked my fingers up his chest. “Papi…”
Hector grabbed my hand. “Go to the bedroom, get undressed, and lie down on your tummy.” He chuckled when my eyes lit up. “Oh, little boy, when will you learn that I don’t fall for any of your seductive tricks?”
***
When Hector came into the bedroom, I looked over my shoulder, hoping for some clue about what he planned to do to me, but he only had a towel in his hands. He cleared off the nightstand next to my side of the bed and covered it with the towel. Then he left the room. I heard water running for a long time. When he came back, he walked slowly and carried a big bowl. Carefully, he set down the bowl on top of the towel.
Since he hadn’t told me to be still, I peered over at the bowl. It was full of water. Intriguing, but for what?
The next trip back to the room was even more confusing. Hector rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, unwrapped a small bar of white soap, and then washed his hands in the bowl until the water was milky with soap lather. He measured in a little Epsom salts and stirred that in, too. Seemingly satisfied, he dried his hands on a folded towel. When he saw my puzzled expression, he grinned, but didn’t say anything. It wasn’t like any punishment that had ever come before. Whatever it was, my cock was ready.
Hector hummed a little tune as he went back into his toy closet. He stood on his tiptoes and brought down boxes from the high shelves. Damn it. I’d meant to snoop through those some day, but every time I sneaked into his closet to look at all the fun things he had, I got distracted by the paddles and floggers. He finally found what he was looking for in one of the boxes. All I saw was a flash of metal before he whisked it out of the bedroom.
I was thoroughly confused when Hector set a kitchen timer on the nightstand. That didn’t look like the metal thing that had been in his hand earlier. He eased down onto the mattress next to me.
“I would have thought that once today was enough for you, but obviously you didn’t learn your lesson.” He pulled a latex glove onto one hand. I swear the snap made me drool. He glopped lube on his gloved finger. “This won’t hurt. I’m just going to slide one finger into your bottom.”
Damn it. Only one finger?
Hector spread my ass cheeks with one hand. The shock of cold lube made my ass tighten as his finger pressed against it. That didn’t stop him from sliding his finger in. “If you fight it, it’s just going to make things more difficult on you, so I suggest you accept the punishment you earned.”
His long, thick finger stroked my prostate. That was punishment?
He opened the drawer of my nightstand and took out the thermometer. He shook it down. My face heated up a little as he gave me a knowing look. The slim, cool glass slid into my hole. I drew my arms close to my chest and hid my face in my pillow. That always helped put me in the right frame of mind for a scene. One minute, raving slut, next moment, Daddy’s boy. While I liked it, I was kind of ashamed that I did. Hector used that to his advantage, of course.
Hector put on his reading glasses to read the thermometer as he held it up to the lamp. I knew I wasn’t sick, so I had no idea why I held my breath waiting for his pronouncement. He lowered his chin and looked at me over the top of his glasses. “If you don’t behave, this is going to be a very difficult afternoon for you.”
He pushed back the edge of the folded towel on my nightstand. I finally saw what he’d taken out of the closet.
My voice quavered a little. “Papi?” I had no idea what it was. It was a large metal tube about eight inches long, with a long tip on one end and a plunger on the other. Whatever it was, it looked wicked, like something from a sadistic doctor’s office.
Hector put the tip in the bowl and slowly pulled back on the plunger. When it was all the way up, he turned to me with the syringe. I gulped. He leaned over the bed, firmly parted my clenched ass cheeks, and inserted the tip of the syringe into my ass.
> “Not another enema,” I wailed.
“I warned you.”
Things got uncomfortable really fast. Hector laughed when I covered my face and groaned.
“That’s the entire syringe. You’re going to hold that in until I say you can go.” He eased the tip out of me.
Five minutes later, I was squirming. Instead of spanking me though, he did something worse.
“I’m disappointed in you, Baby. I thought we’d agreed that you were going to stop being selfish. Being a real slave means that you serve me. I thought you understood that. Instead of trying to give me what I need, it’s still all about your fantasies.”
That stung. He was right, of course. I’d fallen back into my bad habits.
“If obeying me doesn’t make you happy, then we have a real problem.”
“It does!”
“You fight me every step of the way. Is asking you to wear a kilt that big of a demand? I don’t think so. And yet you refuse without even considering what I might want. Sometimes I don’t think you understand what it means to wear my collar. You still only obey whenever it pleases you to, Sam. If you accept the collar, you accept my control over you at all times, even when it doesn’t please you.”
My hand went to the metal collar around my neck. He wouldn’t take it back, would he?
“I respected your no when you asked me not to humiliate you in the store. I know that’s a hard limit for you. All I ask in return is that you show me the same respect.”
His sad, quiet tone ripped me to shreds. Everything he said was true. I was a selfish brat, and he’d been more than patient with me.
“I’m sorry, Sir.”
“I know you are, Baby. At least, you are right now. I’m going to help you learn, okay? We’ll work on this together.” Hector’s hand rubbed soothing circles over my back, but that didn’t help. “Not much longer to go. I know you can hold that enema a little longer.”
Oh man. Those last couple minutes were hard.
When the timer finally went off, Hector stood up. “Do you need help getting off the bed? Do you want me to help you to the bathroom?”
It was embarrassing enough that he knew how bad I had to go, but to be in the bathroom with me? No way. I shook my head hard as I carefully got off the bed.
Hector gave my hard-on a little squeeze. “Okay. Take your time. When you feel you’re done, come back here.”
I quickly shuffled off to the bathroom with my butt cheeks clenched tight.
***
“On the bed, on your tummy,” Hector ordered when I came back to the bedroom.
“But Papi!”
He sighed. “You really won’t learn, will you?” He filled the syringe again. “We’re going to keep doing this until I get through that thick skull of yours.”
Scowling, I flopped down on the bed. Hector frowned as he filled the syringe. It was a battle of wills.
As the timer ticked down, my temper flared. I’d had enough. “Okay! I’ll wear the damn kilt!”
I tried to get up, but Hector put a firm hand on the small of my back. “I didn’t say you could get up.”
“I’m going to anyway,” I snapped.
“No.”
“Let me up.”
Hector got off the bed and stared down at me. It drove me nuts that he didn’t say anything. Infuriated, I said, “I’m sick of this. This is stupid.”
Hector’s eyebrows rose. Sure, I knew that meant I was in trouble, but the last little hold I had on my temper snapped, and boy, did I tell him a thing or two. I was still cursing him out when the timer went off.
“Get up,” he said.
I started to shuffle for the bathroom when he grasped my arm. “This time, I’m taking you.”
Hector pulled me along a lot faster than I wanted to walk. When we got into the bathroom, he shoved me down over the sink. “I guess we need a little soap in this end too. Open your mouth, Boy.”
I wriggled and sputtered as Hector thoroughly washed my mouth out with soap. Being so close to the toilet with my bowels so full was hell. I had to go. Hector didn’t seem to care. He pulled me up by my hair as I spat soap film from my mouth.
“Now, go fetch the wooden spoon.” He shoved me toward the door.
Oh man. Oh no. When would I learn to keep my mouth shut?
“Sir, please--.”
“Now!”
I was probably a comical sight as I shuffled from the bathroom to the kitchen and back again. Tears staggered down my cheeks. All I could think about was getting to the toilet. I couldn’t hold on much longer.
When I got back to the bathroom, Hector took the wooden spoon from my hand. He saw me glance at the toilet.
“Need to go, little boy?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He grinned. “I’ll bet you do.” He lowered the lid and sat down. “Before you can sit here, you’re going to be punished for that outburst.” He patted his thighs. “Over Papi’s lap. Now.”
“Please!”
Hector made a little sound of fake sympathy. “You can beg better than that. Come on. The sooner you get into position, the sooner it will be over.”
Since I had no choice, I carefully lowered myself over Hector’s thighs.
Instead of taking the wooden spoon to me, Hector squeezed my ass cheeks. That wasn’t fair. I groaned.
“We’re going to cleanse all the bad things out of your system, Baby. I know this is hard, but I know what’s best for you. Now, tell me why I’m spanking you.”
“Because I sassed you.”
The wooden spoon slapped against my bared ass. “That’s why your Papi washed your mouth out with soap. Think harder.” The wooden spoon smacked my other cheek.
What did he want me to say? I had no idea, so I tried everything. That only earned me harder smacks from the wooden spoon. Soon my ass felt as if was on fire.
“Please, Papi, please! I have to go. I can’t hold it any longer.”
“Then apologize for your temper tantrum.”
Temper tantrum? Sure, I got angry, but a tantrum? The wooden spoon smacked me so hard I couldn’t breathe for a second. Tears spilled down my face.
“Are you going to have an accident?”
My face went ten shades of red. He knew what the enema was doing to me. He knew I was about to lose control. I didn’t even want to think about what would happen if I didn’t get on the toilet soon. My butt cheeks and thighs stung from the constant slap of the wooden spoon. It was humbling and mortifying to be under his control like that. I sobbed.
Hector took the spoon to my ass without mercy. I screamed until I couldn’t anymore.
“I asked if you’re going to have an accident, Boy.”
I nodded hard.
“Do you need to use the potty?”
Oh Gods, was it possible to die from humiliation?
“Say it.” Hector was so terse that a new flood of tears cascaded from my eyes. “You know what you have to say.”
“I need to use the potty.”
“Ask nicely.”
Gritting my teeth, I swallowed my pride. “Please let me use the potty, Papi. I have to go so bad.”
Hector made me turn me head to look at him. His brown eyes were full of compassion, but he was still strict. “You can stand up now.” My shoulders shook as new sobs quaked through my body. “When you’re ready for you next enema, I want you to lie down quietly on the bed and show me that you know how to obey. I promise that when we’re done, you’ll feel much better. Okay?”
Sniffling, I nodded. Hector kissed my forehead and went out the door, graciously leaving me a little shred of my dignity.
***
By the time I staggered out of the bathroom following the third enema, it was late. Hector sat on his side of the bed, propped up against the headboard. He spread his arms. I rushed to cuddle with him.
He stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head.
His hands slid over my ass. I flinched as he squeezed my aching butt cheeks. “I wish you
hadn’t acted up, little boy. I didn’t want to have to punish you, but you know I can’t let you get away with that.”
Why did I fight against him? I never understood it myself. There wasn’t a single battle of our wills that I’d ever won, thank the Gods. Everything was so much easier when I submitted.
“Feeling better now?” I liked how he talked to me in a gentle but firm tone while he stroked my skin.
Exhausted but calm. I supposed that was better.
