Boys at the Seaside 2

Chapter II

Milton studied his assembled troops, trying to shake the sleep from his brain. They’d arrived yesterday afternoon in a confusion of bags and time changes. He’d only managed a quick swim and a bite of a sandwich before Rick had found him and launched into a rundown of his morning coffee adventure. It was time to bring some order to this chaos. His own submissives had clustered together draped over the sofa and the easy chair. John and Rick were standing along the back wall, both looking equally tense, and Trent and Mace were sitting at the small work table. They looked the most comfortable, Mace eating the nuts in the crystal bowl by the handful despite the early hour, and Trent drinking orange soda from a glass bottle. Ryan had snagged an armchair from the hall and Blade was sitting at his feet and leaning into Ryan’s powerful legs.

“I assume you’ve all had a chance to read and digest the rather interesting set of rules and instructions that were left in each of our rooms. Ryan, John, I’ve already spoken to both of you privately, and I understand and share your concerns, but I am also bound by my role as leader of the Green Mountain Boys. To walk away and perhaps leave someone at risk would be inexcusable. I also want to assure you that I will personally kill Landon when we get back, and I will invite you to the massacre. This has his fingerprints all over it.” Milton gave everyone a tight smile and leaned back against the wall, trying to look relaxed. “For those of you who are not Green Mountain Boys, the choice to stay or leave is yours. Ryan you will stay.”

Ryan’s eyes snapped toward Milton, a blaze of blue fire. Slowly he stared at Milton, not breaking his gaze for a long minute. “I do not entirely agree with your position, but I yield as demanded by my role in the hierarchy. I will support and uphold your decisions.”

“Thank you, Ryan,” Milton said formally with a small nod of his head. “Does Blade agree to this course of action?”

“He does. I believe he’s debating if he should skateboard in the dining room or play cowboys and indians in the kitchen.”

“Ryan!” Blade exclaimed, turning his green eyes on Ryan in a look of perfect innocence.

“I know how you operate; you will have caused several small riots by morning.”

“Rick wishes to participate in this rioting,” John said quietly. “My reservations are more intense. I fear injuring an innocent party, and I am unsure if I have the right to dictate anyone else’s fantasy.”

“We don’t,” Milton said, “as long as it’s within the realm of consent and understanding. I believe as both you and Ryan have raised and as I was trained that these relationships may not have the proper safeguards. I have reviewed the entire information packet, and while there is a wealth of information on using different thermometer models for a sick brat, there is a complete lack of information on negotiations, safewords, and the rights and responsibilities of the submissive and/or the dominant. In fact in some places there even seems to be the claim that the rituals enjoyed by our hotel mates are not a form of dominance and submission. This denial frightens me.”

“I’m in that camp,” Ryan said. “What about you?” Ryan directed his gaze to Trent and Mace. “I know you find us a bit crazy.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Trent said easily. “We just like a more laid back approach. We’re going to enjoy the beach and the local cafes. Crusades aren’t our cup of tea.”

“Trent,” Ryan started before Milton raised a hand to silence him.

“They are not Green Mountain Boys. They may do as they choose.”

“You two,” Mace snorted. “The rules are kooky, but it’s not affecting me. I wouldn’t dance on the billiard table or spray shaving cream on the furniture.”

“I missed that one,” Rick muttered. “We’re not bloody children. I’m not useless and stupid.”

“Sheldon has dumped iced tea over guests’ heads at dinner, and he’s not useless or stupid either,” Mace drawled in that slow tone he used when he was trying to defuse people. “I’ve tossed cake batter at Trent.” Mace blushed and brushed his hand over his silver belt buckle as if it were a talisman. “It means I want taken down, and I’m not good at asking, and I don’t want it all that often, so Trent has learned to cope with my pantomime. Maybe that’s what’s going on here.”

“I saw some idiot slide down the banister,” Rick snapped, his posture rigid with anger, his eyes aflame with passion. “I won’t be subjected to childish rules.”

“You bait John, or at least you seem the type,” Mace said in a soft, easy voice of his that usually took the sting out of the words.

“It’s none of your business. What are you, cowboy poet and guru?”

“Rick don’t,” John said under his breath. He squeezed Rick’s neck in a punishing grip.

“Whoa,” Mace said easily. “I live with these guys. Rick can say about anything and it won’t shock or offend me.”

“Maybe being treated like a two-year-old doesn’t offend your wild west sensibilities, or maybe you just pull out your six shooter and start banging away, but I’m not letting myself be lumped in the same category as children.”

Mace shrugged. “I’d rather enjoy the sea than fight political battles, but that’s up to you.”

“If everyone thought like you, we’d still have fiefdoms and serfs. Some of us have to be willing to fight for our rights.”

“Rick it’s a resort, not a government,” John said. “I don’t like it either, but it’s hardly tyrants at our gates.”

“It’s through negligence tyranny happens. What next it won’t matter that women are prohibited to drive because you’re not a woman?”

“Rick,” Luke said very softly, bringing all eyes on the slim figure who reached for Tilden’s hand. “Is it not tyranny for us to force our way on them? I’m not like you; I know that. I understand what they want. It speaks to me.” Luke looked down and plucked imaginary lint off his knee. “I’d take it if I could have it.”

“Luka?” Milton prodded, intentionally using Tilden’s Russification of Luke’s name. 

“Nothing. Forget I said it. I know I can’t have it. I know you can’t do it for me.”

“Do what?” Milton asked, baffled. This was the boy who was unfailingly polite and quiet having an outburst. Luke didn’t have outbursts; he melted into the wall, avoided Milton, and communed with Tilden.

“No, I’ve said enough. Forget it.”

“Luke, talk to me.”

Luke’s head shot up at Milton’s change of tone, and Tilden glared at Milton, his expressive eyes saying exactly what would happen if Milton pushed too far.

“He’s my submissive. He answers to me,” Milton said with unbending finality. “Luke?”

“It’s...It’s…” Luke took a deep breath as if bracing himself. “I’ve thought about this a lot. I know I can’t have it, but I understand what they want, not the stupid stuff about jumping off roofs and skateboarding in the dining room. I’m not that sort of brat, but the stuff about boundaries, the feel that it is real discipline, that you are guarding and protecting  me, that you’re keeping me safe.”

“You don’t feel safe with me?”

“No, you’re obsessed with safety, and you respect my boundaries to the upmost. It’s different. I want it to feel real. I want it to be more than sex and submission. I know you can’t go there, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want it.”

“Are you asking me to use corporal punishment for real?”

“Yes… No. I understand you can’t. I understand what you did in the beginning you think is ethically fraught with complications.  It’s just… It’s just I sometimes feel overwhelmed. I can’t even figure out what damn tie to wear. I wish you’d do it for me.”

“That’s a very deep level of submission. I do that for Sheldon, and I enjoy it.”

“No, I don’t want the other. I don’t want the arbitrariness you impose on Sheldon. I don’t want to kneel. I don’t want cock cages, and I don’t even like being spanked all that well. In my fantasy, it’s gentle and loving and about guidance. I know you can’t do it. You’re a sadist and a dominant. You’re sexually aroused by spanking and control. I know it can never truly be real, and I know it would be dangerous and terrible if it were, but I understand the longing. Maybe this is the best they can do. Maybe this works for them.”

“Luke,” Milton said after a long pause, “I can’t give you that. I enjoy hitting, and it’s dishonest and dangerous for me to think of it any other way. I can tell you what color tie to wear, but I won’t pretend it’s not about dominance and submission. We can negotiate something that is far tighter without the trappings of BDSM. I can do that for you, but I can’t do the other. I can’t hit and pretend it’s about changing behavior. I can tell you what color tie to wear but not because I’m a fashion expert or because you need to be trained to pick a tie in less than ten seconds. I can choose because I am the dominant and you are the submissive. I can spank you for not choosing a tie, but not to improve your tie picking skills but because it is a part of our relationship. I won’t pretend I know better how to live than you because I don’t. I exert control because I’m the dominant and to pretend otherwise is far too dangerous to contemplate.”

“I know it’s a fantasy, but it doesn’t mean that I sometimes don’t wish it was real. I can’t have it, but I can still dream. Why can’t they have their fantasy?”

“Because dishonesty from the dominant is dangerous,” John said, filling the silence with his clear, strong voice. “We enjoy the power and the control, and if we don’t acknowledge from where our drives arise we will hurt those we vow to protect. There is no way to escape it. That’s why I hate these top/brat arrangements taken beyond play. They forget the essentials necessary for everyone’s safety. What we do can be dangerous; no one should ever think otherwise.”

“Yes, sir,” Luke replied softly, his blue eyes brimming with tears. “I know it’s only fantasy but…”

“They get their fantasy and you don’t get yours,” Milton said. “I understand.” Milton plucked Luke off the floor and wrapped him in a tight hug. “I do understand. From the outside, yours seems the easiest, and I’m saying no when I’ll beat and kidnap Mike, when I’ll write a slave contract for Sheldon. I’ll try to give you something, but it can’t be that.”

“I know. I’m not that stupid or naive, but it is nice to pretend sometimes.”

****

Austin threaded his way down the beach between the umbrellas and the loungers. Without his top, whatever that was supposed to mean, he wasn’t allowed to go in the water, and Milton had categorically threatened to practically murder him if he intentionally broke the rules. Sheldon and Mike weren’t under such grim threats, and Austin was sure Blade wasn’t either. They were probably off creating havoc somewhere.

Milton had drawn his finger around Austin’s bare neck and spoken in a quiet tone. “I can’t completely tell, but I read from these rules that a monitoring top could potentially discipline you if I wasn’t present. I won’t have someone touch you without my permission.”

“What about Sheldon and Mike?” 

“Sheldon’s my collared slave, and if anyone is willful enough to touch a collared slave without his master’s permission, they deserve all the fury I can muster. Mike enjoys playing with fire. He’d laugh off a little spanking as harmless and childish role play. You’re Austin; it wouldn’t be good for you. I want you to promise no trouble, or I’ll make you stay in our room.”

Austin had looked out at the brilliant morning sunshine and the shimmer of the sea in the distance and said the only possible answer. “Yes, sir.”

Maybe he should have said no. If he’d thrown a big enough stink, Milton would have stayed with him, but Luke had been hidden in Tilden’s arms the entire conversation. Luke deserved a moment of Milton’s and Tilden’s time. He deserved the long talk that Austin knew was going to happen. They’d find a pot of tea and a quiet table and talk until Luke stopped looking shaky and pale. Luke never needed for anything; It would be totally selfish of Austin to deny him this.

Austin was hot. the sand burned his feet, and he looked at the water with longing. He’d yanked off his shirt earlier, and the sun beat down on his pale shoulders and back. A gull flapped and squawked as two men splashed into the water. In the distance a brightly colored sail caught the light breeze.

“Austin, right?”

“Brian.” He was lying on a striped towel, sunscreen mixing with droplets of water on his back.

“You’ve been in the water?”

“Nah.” Austin shrugged. “Just looking.” He’d be in the water in a minute if it weren’t for the stupid rule. He was an adult and a competent swimmer. It was just stupid; he knew why Rick was seething. 

“Austin, did you put on sunscreen before you came out?” Glen sat up and pulled down his sunglasses to look at Austin. “The sun’s hot here.”

No shit and the water was beautiful. “I had my shirt on,” Austin managed with a politeness that would make Milton proud. 

Glen hissed and reached for a large beach bag full of a jumble of seaside paraphernalia. “You’ll burn. Let me put some sunscreen on you.”

Austin bit back his snotty reply and moved closer. He would burn. He only hoped the faint flogger marks weren’t visible close up. He loved the deerskin flogger, and the marks usually faded fast. He didn’t feel them any longer, but that didn’t mean at close range that there wouldn’t be a faint sprinkling of red lines.

“Austin, who hit you?” Glen’s voice dripped with concern and compassion, the sunscreen forgotten as he traced his fingers over Austin’s shoulders. “Oh, honey, what did you do?”

“It was for fun, a reward for acing my exams.” 

“You get beaten as a reward?” Glen’s face was almost comical in his shock. “Have you told anyone? Have you asked for help?”

Austin shouldered into his shirt, no longer wanting his back on display. Hearing Landon’s and Gordon’s voices in his head, he turned on Glen and steadily met his gaze. “I am a submissive in a fully negotiated relationship. I am neither abused or a child or a certifiable idiot. I am twenty years old and more than capable of protecting myself from the sun, and I'm going swimming if I choose.” Austin marched down to the water’s edge and swam briskly out. 

The sea was magnificent, just cool enough to be bracing and to snuff his hot temper. He ducked his head and soaked his hair. A shrill whistle pierced the air, and several men were running along the beach. A blond with a red swimsuit raced into the water, clutching a life vest. Austin scanned the water; no one looked in trouble. He stood, his torso rising from the gentle breakers.

Red swimsuit reached his side and smiled one of those smiles reserved for the infirm and young children. “I know you’re upset. Why don’t you come on back and sit in the shade.”

“Are you going to offer me ice cream and candy also? I wasn’t upset. I was tired of answering foolish accusations.”

“I’m Harry,” the man tried again in what Austin thought was an educated British accent. It sounded a little like Gordon’s, only much stronger. “I might be able to find some ice cream.” His smile this time looked a touch more real.

“I’m not in danger of drowning. I’ve seen the sun fewer times than I can count in one hand in the last month. I wish to continue my swim.”

“We’ll find your top and then you can swim. You won’t be in any trouble. You’re new here.”

“Aren’t you also going to remark that I’m young and innocent and therefore couldn’t possibly know my own mind. My dominant–” Austin emphasized the word dominant. “–is otherwise engaged. I’m sure he would assure you that I am capable of swimming in waist deep water.”

“You, little boy, need to watch you mouth.” Harry spun Austin around and swatted his hip. “Back to shore.”

“That’s assault,” Austin hissed, fighting to contain emotions he didn’t understand. He was angry, furiously, vision dimming angry, but he was also shocked and maybe a little afraid. He tried to step away, but Harry was larger and grabbed his wrist. “Red,” Austin screamed. He’d never safeworded, never needed to. Milton understood; Milton knew the rules; Milton was predictable. “Let go of me! I just safeworded.” Austin struggled. He was smaller and the water wasn’t helping. He struck Harry in the face as hard as he could, suddenly glad for Ryan’s insistence on teaching everyone basic self-defense. His knuckles smashed Harry’s nose in a painful crunch and he elbowed his assailant in the stomach as he scrambled away.

The shore was lined with people trying to grab him. He vaulted a sunbather and ran, his feet flying across the sand and up the steps of the boardwalk. He didn’t look back. He knew they must be closing, and they’d have further reinforcements at the hotel. Town would be his only safely. He lowered his head and ran, not looking, not caring, only wanting to be away.

****

John wrapped his hand around Rick’s shoulder as they started a lazy walk along the beach. “I should murder you and throw your body into the sea for forcing me to stay here and participate in your crazy rioting act,” he murmured into Rick’s ear, his voice thick with love.

Rick giggled and wiggled around in the confines of John’s arms.

“I hope Milton knows what the hell he’s doing here because I have no idea,” he muttered under his breath.

“Oh, cheer up, my dearest Neanderthal, this is what you do the best. Right now, we’re simply in reconnaissance,” Rick chirped happily. “Look and observe.”

“Rick, we are not behind enemy lines. That’s what you and Milton don’t seem to understand. These are people with their own set of kinks. I don’t see what right I have to interfere.”

Rick stopped walking and stepped to stand in front of Johnny.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you could leave this place with no doubt in your heart that you were doing the right thing,” he demanded, sticking up his chin. “If you are so sure that it’s all so clean cut, why do you look like you’re ready to murder someone,” Rick pushed, not letting John avoid his challenge.

“I might be uncomfortable with this particular approach, but many people are uncomfortable with my kink as well; hell they are uncomfortable with my sexual orientation. Simply being uneasy about something doesn’t make me right.” John held Rick’s bright green eyes, fighting the urge to just lose himself in the emerald orbs.

“Yes, of course, I’m sure the fact that I’m uncomfortable,” Rick spat out the words like an insult, “with women being beaten with stones over their desire to get education, is because of my biased Westerner ways. I am the evil one, clearly.” Rick’s jaw twitched and his nostrils flared in anger.

“Rick,” John sighed with exasperation, “you know perfectly well, it’s not the same. We talk about people who choose this life. They have other options, and they chose this. How is that any different than what we do? If anyone would suggest you needed saving from me, you would probably sue them out of all earthly possessions, plus their spot in the afterlife.” John’s voice rose with fervor.

“Because I can take care of myself and I actually have mental capacity of consenting. Are you telling me that an adult man needing supervision and support with his daily routine is actually capable of consenting?” Rick’s question was matching John’s tone and passion. “John, that’s the definition of legal incapacity!”

“It’s just a charade!”

“Well,” Rick retorted softly and calmly, “All I’m asking of you is to stick around till I see it with my own eyes. I want to be sure that it is all just a fantasy, a pleasurable game for both parties involved. What I’ve observed until now did nothing to reassure me.”

They continued their walk, their bodies intertwined, eyes wondering around to the azure horizons of the sunny sea.

“You have your own reservations. I know you do,” Rick voiced quietly.

John didn’t answer him; he just shook his head and kept walking. This situation brought his inner conflict to an unpleasant level, a spot he always tried to avoid. Dominance in its every form was an ethically grey zone; one wrong step and it would turn into darkness and an abyss. 

Sounds of agitation caught John’s ear, immediately putting his senses in high alert. A second later he spotted Austin running in his direction in a state of near panic. All reason left John. He closed the distance between himself and the running boy and captured the fleeing boy.

“Austin.” He engulfed the boy in his arms and kept him unmoving. Austin was still in struggling mode; he was jerking and heaving, clearly not recognizing who had him. “It’s John. Be still.”

The boy sagged against him in such relief that John felt the need to hunt down whoever had caused this and have a week long chat with him about consent, letting him experience first hand what a violation of trust and consent felt like. Unfortunately he couldn’t do that.

“I suggest you return to whatever you were doing and leave us alone,” John rumbled, his eyes and bearing projecting all the violence he was capable of and was holding in check. 

“Sir, this boy is frightened.” Some idiot addressed him in an attempt at sounding authoritative. Johnny debated briefly showing him what authority and dominance really meant. He could make this man submit to him within a short second, but it would not be consenting. Instead he took a calming breath and cut the man’s speech short.

“Of you! Consider him in my protection, and I do not share or allow a gaggle of ignoramuses to touch what is mine. Rick, get Milton, now,” John barked, letting the aggression bleed further into his voice, making the crowd of pompous idiots calling themselves tops shrink back. Mercifully Rick did as he was told, immediately starting a fast sprint for Milton.

Austin’s head was still pressed against his chest, as if the boy was trying to get lost in John’s embrace, to hide from the world. His soft hair tickled John’s skin. There was a heave from the boy that sounded suspiciously like a sob, and John had to close his eyes against the murderous rage battling in his soul. This boy was so young and inexperienced and some bastard had the atrocity to hurt him, while calling it beneficial interference. For once John was glad this boy was under Milton’s protection. Milton would care for his cub; he would fight for his protection and lick his wounds until they were completely healed.

“I safeworded and he still wouldn’t let me go,” Austin murmured in a soft voice, full of vulnerability and wonderment, as if the boy couldn’t believe the audacity of such a violation of trust. He was innocent and sweet and they had tainted it. John heard the growl escape his throat before he could capture it. The red mist in front of his eyes demanded that he would seek the culprit and smear his body parts all over the seashore as a warning to other idiots inhabiting this place. The safeword was sacrosanct; it was all that kept him human and the monster inside him in heavy chains.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into Austin’s ear, kissing the boy’s hair. He didn’t know what else to say, but to apologies for his kind, those with inherent darkness inside.

“Cub,” Milton’s voice was gentle, if slightly breathless. Austin flew out of John’s arms and into Milton’s expectant embrace.

John gave Milton a short nod, and with one glance at Rick to make sure his boy was all right, John started toward the sea. Discarding his shirt and shorts, he threw himself into the water and swam. He couldn’t stay on shore and risk giving free rein to his violent desires. Milton was going to murder him for this. He still hadn’t completely lived down that little midnight exercise session, but at this point he didn’t care. Within seconds he reached the plastic fence marking the swimming perimeter. John dived until he reached the edge of the fence and swam under it and into freedom. From there it was him and the sea, an opponent that could easily kill him, but one that would never risk injury if John’s temper was to explode.

****

“Austin, deep breath for me. I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.” Milton concentrated on projecting as much reassurance and protection as possible while hiding the fury that was rising in his chest and threatening to escape in a dominant roar. His cub needed him calm and safe. 

“I’m OK,” Austin mumbled as he hid in Milton’s sheltering arms.

“And I’m the Jolly Green Giant. Honesty, Austin.”

“Sorry. You told me not to.”

“Shh.” Milton kissed Austin’s hair. “There is no reason for you to be this frightened; this is not your fault.”

“I safeworded. He didn’t stop.”

“Who?” Milton struggled to keep his voice calm, his body language relaxed.

“Harry.”

Milton kept his arm wrapped around Austin’s shoulders and looked out into the small knot of people. “Is there a Harry out there?”

“I am.” A tall and tanned young man stepped forward. His eyes met Milton’s for an instant before breaking off at the depth of Milton’s fury.

“He merely swatted your brat,” an older gentleman, obviously a director of the hotel, said, stepping forward and trying to match Milton’s gaze. “Your brat is clearly distraught. I suggest we discuss this after you care for him.”

“He is my submissive, not a brat, and as his dominant I am highly offended that he was physically accosted by a member of your staff and his safeword was ignored. It was inexcusable. If it were my choice, I’d cane the young idiot at the least.”

“Sir, there is no need to threaten violence. I know it’s upsetting to find your young brat in trouble, but it’s not helping him for you to be upset. We have many years of experience dealing with young brats; I assure you that yours was not injured. He is merely being what I believe you Americans call a drama queen.”

“Your name,” Milton said between clenched teeth. He could feel the pulse throbbing in his neck. He’d learned control on his knees beside Gordon, and he wasn’t going to lose it now.

“Robert Bates. I am managing director of this hotel and director of guest services. I am sure this can all be sorted in a calm and logical way. There is no need to resort to threats. We are not violent.”

“You ignored a safeword, and you state you are not violent. Perhaps then you are merely ignorant and incompetent. A safeword is sacrosanct, and no matter the type of play from inventive bratting to hardcore and physically demanding scenes I would respect it if I felt it was consensual and non abusive. You have proved that it is neither.”

“Sir,” Robert tried again with an ingratiating smile and an irritating sense of calm superiority. “If you had reviewed the material, you would have realized that we allow and encourage our staff to apply minor physical correction to unsettled brats. Your young Austin was most unsettled. If you hadn’t chosen to interfere, I am sure he would now be settled and happy. A small swat is hardly worthy of such drama.”

Milton ground his teeth together and counted to ten in as many languages as he could remember. He wished he had Tilden’s knack for languages because his temper was still precarious. These people weren’t just idiots; they were dangerous idiots. “Austin is still in his swimwear. I suggest a half hour break and that we reconvene this discussion in a more private location.”

“Excellent idea,” Robert said with another awful smile with perfectly white teeth.

Milton didn’t wait to hear any further blathering. He scooped Austin into his arms, wishing he was twenty years younger as his muscles complained at the strain. He marched down the hall to their room. He elbowed open the door and kicked it shut with a satisfying bang of its solid wood.

“Don’t break any furniture. I think they’d add it to our bill,” Austin said, sliding to his feet. “They already think you and John are barbarians.”

“They’re the barbarians,” Milton spat.

“History professor is bit by rare spider and turns into sexy barbarian.”

“Austin?” Milton caught Austin’s hand and pulled him close. His eyes searched Austin’s body, reassuring himself that his cub was undamaged and actually smiling.

“It scared me,” Austin said softly, toeing the thick pile of the carpet. “But then Robert was such an idiot that it seemed funny. I’m a Green Mountain Boy. I know how to protect myself. I know what is right, and John would have killed them all in some horribly efficient manner if they’d come any closer. That guy reeks of danger, but he’s kind of hot too.”

“We don’t share.”

Trust me, I know, and Rick’s too cranky anyway.”

“I believe opinionated might be a better way of putting it.”

“True.” Austin shrugged and smiled again. “You can stop looking at me like that. I’m really OK.” Austin chewed on his lower lip, his eyes dropping to the carpet. “You told me not to do it. I’m sorry. I just wanted to get in the water.”

“Austin, nothing you could have been doing should have resulted in a violation of your safeword. You are not to blame.”

“I wasn’t very nice to Harry. He asked me to get out of the water, and I smarted back.”

“And then he hit you?”

“He grabbed my wrist, turned me, and swatted my hip. I panicked. I didn’t understand the game. I safeworded, and he didn’t let go. I punched him.”

“Defending yourself was the right thing to do. You’re a submissive, not a lesser human to be ordered around by anyone who fancies himself a dominant.”

“Harry didn’t understand the safeword, did he? Why not?”

Milton sat down on the low slung sofa and pulled Austin into his lap. “This is why I asked you to be careful this morning.” Milton kissed Austin’s nose and ran his finger over the sun reddened cheek. “You understand that I sometimes use my role as a dominant to influence areas that might not be strictly related to your sexuality.”

“I’m your submissive. I gave you that right.”

“Yes, but it’s still an ethical grey zone. I caned you for not completing your chemistry project and trying to copy your lab partner’s.”

“The blistering lecture that made me feel I failed you and myself was the real penalty. The caning was a relief. I knew I hadn’t totally broken everything. I’m the submissive of a tenured professor; I shouldn’t be toying with academic fraud. I violated your trust and the rules of our relationship.” Austin leaned against Milton and kissed his cheek. “The stripes were pretty too, once they quit hurting.”

“Who taught you that?”

“I watch and I listen, and Sheldon’s good at explaining stuff. I’m not the baby you think I am.” Austin wrapped his fingers around Milton’s hand. “I did just freak out big time. He didn’t stop when I safeworded. It was like he didn’t understand.”

“He didn’t; they don’t. They believe this is discipline, not a shade of kink.”

“I don’t understand.”

“In their world, the top isn’t spanking because he’s dominant in the ways I would describe it. The top believes he’s spanking to help and guide his partner.”

“But the rules are idiotic. I don’t need a babysitter.”

“No, you don’t, and if you did I shouldn’t be hitting you. Harry didn’t stop because they don’t use safewords, because they don’t think it’s a scene or kink.”

“Corporal punishment for real,” Austin said with disbelief in his voice. “That’s scary.”

“I know.” Milton ruffled Austin’s hair. “Go get changed. I have to go have a conversation with Robert and Harry, and as an adult and a fully capable submissive you should be with me.”

“Can Sheldon come?”

“Yes. He is co-head of the Green Mountain Boys and director of protocol. He should most definitely come. Get changed, and I’ll get Sheldon.”

****

John wasn’t sure how long he’d stayed in the water, but with the punishing pace he’d set, it couldn’t have been too long. They’d tried to reach him with boats but he’d dived and swam out of sight. They were probably still searching for him. Not that John cared about it at this point.

He reached the shore at a sharp and rocky point. Pulling himself out of the water, he fought the slippery rocks, searching for a safe toehold. Finally on firm ground he shook himself dry and started to walk toward the hotel, not at all eager to re-enter the circus that awaited him there.

Halfway to the hotel someone cut his way, berating him angrily about something. Although John had no intention of sparing the man a second of his time, he was sure it had to do with his swimming expedition. He stopped only for a short second and lifted his eyes to fix the man with his gaze.

“Are you going to hit me too?” John asked softly, voice laced with danger. “Go ahead, give me a reason for self-defense,” he continued, his words fire and ice. The man visibly blanched and stepped back. John hated when people manifested such blatant fear toward him, but right now it was a welcomed reaction, and John was doing his upmost to project as much savage violence as he possibly could.

He continued his way to the hotel undisturbed after that, mostly due to the fact that he had long learned to project such a level of ferocity that no one in their right mind would dare accost him.

He took the stairs to their room and pulled on some clothes, after which he set on task of finding his boy and getting out of this place. He didn’t care what Milton said or Rick wanted. His boy would just have to defer to his dominant’s will. John didn’t want to stay in this place any longer than he had to. They had violated Austin’s safeword and had the atrocity of looking casual about it, as if it was not a big deal. Any legitimate scene involving any kind of power play would have by now taken measure against the offending participant. The fact that the management didn’t see fit to take any action against the culprit had told John all he needed to know. They didn’t see this as play or fantasy. This has transcended to grounds that made John’s skin crawl. John had nothing against slavery as consensual play between adults that, however, didn’t mean he wasn’t outraged, infuriated and pained by witnessing real slavery and its atrocious results. He also had nothing against a sweet fantasy of spanking lost little boys. But when beating was presented as a valuable tool of guidance and praised as a beneficial measure, denying the underlying sexuality of it, that was where John drew the line. There was nothing acceptable about that. 

It didn’t take him long to find Rick. It seemed like half of the hotel’s guests and staff were congregated around one of the conference rooms which occupied the ground floor of the hotel. John headed in that direction, and cutting through the thick masses of gossipers, he found his boy.

Rick was still in his white shorts with his shirt hanging unbuttoned and loose around his torso. The casual attire didn’t take anything away from his boy’s sheer presence that seemed to command the attention of everybody around him. That was Richard Masters at his best. There was no sign of Milton or his gang. John briefly wondered if they even knew what Rick was doing; they would all be preoccupied with their injured cub right now. His mind didn’t stay on Milton very long; his attention was drawn to Rick like metal to a magnet.  

Rick was leaning back against his chair, sizing up the men in stuffy suits sitting in front of him. It looked like Rick had already kick-started the legal part of the proceedings. One of them was just finishing speaking as John managed to breach the crowd and secure a spot where he could see and hear everything.

Rick’s face was contorted in a condescending sneer, his chin tilted upwards and a bit to the side, baring his beautiful neck, but not making him vulnerable. The slight arch of his eyebrow suggested he was enjoying the unequal brain game in which he was involved. These men were about to get acquainted with the full extent of Rick’s capability. Whatever Rick had been doing until now, it had been a warm-up. John had made it for the good part.

Once the dark-haired young man sitting in front of Rick finished whatever he was saying, Rick let out a derisive laugh and hunched forward, leaning with his elbows onto the table. “Are you telling me the set of rules that we found in the room, constitutes valid consideration? The set of rules that we saw after we had paid and basically concluded the agreement?” His voice was so joyful, it sounded like he’d just heard an extremely funny joke. “Where did you study law, in your grandmother’s garage?” An older man tried to interfere, but Rick held up his hand and silenced the man. “I had the courtesy to listen through the aberrant speech of your lawyer. Well, at least you claim he is a lawyer,” Rick threw the insult with a short huff of breath. “I expect to be treated with the same courtesy.” His voice was ice now, brokering no argument, simply commending the way things were going to be. “Anyhow, darling.” He turned his eyes back to the young man. “Getting back to your continuing education, I would like to point  out to you that while I am not a qualified in this country, my modest knowledge of such legal systems still allows me to know that contractual formation under the civil legal system is quite rigid. Especially if we are discussing some serious demarcation and relinquishment of rights.” Rick let his words sink in, and John watched as the men in front of him squirmed in their chairs. “Anyway, my young and unknowledgeable friend, we are talking about the criminal side of this unpleasant situation. Your employee, with your knowledge and your blessing, has assaulted a young man, who had paid good money to enjoy services that were advertised as being a five star beach resort.” Rick joined the fingertips of his hands together and glanced at the older man that had tried to interfere earlier.   

“Young man you do not intimidate me with your legal jargon,” the man retorted heatedly, his face an epitome of severity.

“That’s because you don’t understand this particular jargon; your lawyers look plenty scared to me,” Rick sniggered arrogantly.

The man looked ready to pop a vein. “Little boy, you just proved that the firm hand we recommend for young men like you is entirely justified.” He looked ready to suffocate from his own righteousness. It took John all his self-control not to go over there and punch the man in the face.

Rick’s face ceased to display any trace of amusement; his eyes were now shooting fiery daggers. “Justified to what end? Creating obedient and meek sheep, with no fire to fight for their desires?”

“Justified in order to make them better and more adjusted members of society,” the man shouted.

 “Do you even hear yourself? And who bestowed on you a cookie-cutter for the perfect society member?” Rick’s gaze suggested he was trying to have an intellectual conversation with a cucumber. “A couple hundred years ago upstanding citizens like yourself were burning depraved devil servants like yourself – homosexuals,” Rick clarified not wanting to leave the man to his own devices to decipher the words.

“I wouldn’t expect someone like you to understand,” the man spat out. 

“Well, neither does the criminal code or the human rights bill.” Rick smiled sweetly.

  “The rules were clear, just like the consequences of breaking them. By violating them the boy gave his consent to being disciplined, and he was merely swatted not flogged as he had been by his own top for some bizarre reason,” the man spoke triumphantly and crossed his arms over his chest, smiling smugly.

“If you had bothered listening to me, instead of rehearsing your little useless speech in your head for hours, you would have learned by now, that in order for an application of physical force to be considered as consensual, the consent must be explicit, not implied.” The small condescending smile was back on Rick’s lips. “Moreover, the consent can be withdrawn at any point. The actual force, the duration, and quantity of such physical interaction does not hold much importance. Austin had safeworded; be assured that I will have the court swarming with expert witnesses who would explain to the judge exactly how important and sacred the safeword is. Also” –Rick leaned back in the chair, projecting relaxation– “the courts, have held more than once that no means no and that a participant in sexual interaction can withdraw consent at any point, anything beyond that encumbers criminal liability.”

“Sexual interaction?” The man screamed scandalized. “It was not sexual in nature. You are sick, young man!”

Rick laughed at that. “Go ahead, add insult and discrimination to your already overflowing rap sheet.” With these words Rick rose from his chair, his eyes darkening to a frightening intensity. “I’m going to sue you for every penny you have, and when you are on your knees begging me to stop, I’m going to show you the same consideration your brute showed my friend.” He turned around and walked to the door, the crowed parting in his wake.

“If you hate it so much here, why don’t you and your perverted friends just leave?” The man’s yell was close to desperate, even if he hadn’t yet realized how screwed he was once Richard Masters had decided to obliterate him.

  “Because around the world men, women, and children are still fighting for their most basic rights with sticks and bottles while the oppressor has tanks,” Rick threw over his shoulder.

Johnny captured Rick in his arms and before Rick fully realized what was going on sealed their lips in a kiss. This was the general John would follow into any battle. If Rick decided they were going to make their stand here, he would obey.   

John pushed Rick through the crowd that seemed very eager to clear their way, and for once it was not as much about John’s intimidating posture as about Rick’s display of power. There was something utterly intoxicating about the knowledge that this strong, powerful, confident and independent creature would kneel to him and would bend his will to John’s. Johnny could feel his lips twitch with a desire to form a predatory smile. The desire eventually prevailed, his nostrils flaring to announce the unreserved arousal that had taken over his body and mind.

Rick said nothing all the way, walking slightly ahead of John, his stance a perfect replication of a king marching ahead of an entire army. The closer they came to their room, the louder John’s beast demanded his boy’s submission – both captivated by Rick flaunting his power and offended by his lack of deference.

As soon as the door shut behind them Rick turned around to face John, and before John could say anything, the mask of Richard Masters shattered, revealing his sweet and compliant boy. Rick slid to his knees, clasping his hands behind his back in a perfect submissive pose. His head was slightly bent down, the braid tangling over his right shoulder, eyes fixed on the floor. He was the depiction of a flawless submissive, the one Rick never thought he could be.

“Master,” the word puffed out of Rick’s lush, slightly parted lips like an intoxicating mix of a plea and an anthem. Rick didn’t use that word often, but when he did John could swear the entire world was his conquest.

John grabbed Rick by his braid, wrapping it around his fist, forcing the boy’s head up. “Yes boy, you belong to me, all of you.” His throat constricted tightly around the hoarse words, Rick’s complete surrender lighting the fire in him further yet. John’s finger traced Rick’s face and down his throat until it rested at its base. He closed his fingers around the vulnerable flesh, pressing the muscle and bones together, watching mesmerized as the rush of scarlet started right under his fingertips and crept upwards reaching his boy’s cheekbones and setting them alight. Rick’s eyes – green pools of arousal– were shining with an accumulation of pearl like tears that shone on the thick and dark lashes framing his eyes. His flickering nostrils projected such an exhilarating vulnerability to his appearance that John’s eyes felt glued to the trembling flesh.

Johnny bent down and licked Rick’s throat, drinking in the soft whimpers and urgent gulps that attempted to compensate for the scarcity of the air supply which John was controlling. Rick’s pulse fluttered under John’s fingertips, sending shocks of arousal through his body with every beat that signaled to John the utter power he was holding over his boy at that moment. Rick was his, utterly and completely, and every cell and every pore in Rick’s body sang to him alone. There was no trace of resistance or fight from Rick. His position was just as perfect as when he had first knelt, the only difference -his head still forced upwards by John. Everything else was the same, the clasped hands at his back leaving his torso completely open and defenseless to John.

Johnny let go of Rick’s neck and jerked the shirt off his body, leaving his boy bare from the waist up. He stepped back and assessed Rick. “Strip,” he ordered shortly. “And stay on your knees.” With these words he turned around and went to the wardrobe. He found what he was looking and walked back to his boy, who had already resumed his kneeling position. “Look at me.” John’s voice was hard and unwavering; a miracle, as there was nothing calm about him, his heart beating madly with desire, excitement and barely concealed need for violence.

Rick’s emerald eyes promptly responded to the command. John held out the belt and stroked Rick’s cheek with it. Wrapping the belt around his fist, he held Rick’s eyes as he brought the belt down onto his flat belly. Rick gurgled with unexpected pain, eyes filling with fresh tears. The next stroke fell on his chest, biting down on both his nipples, and the reaction was even more exquisite. This time Rick broke the position, curling inward in an unconscious gesture of shielding himself. A growl from John was enough for Rick to resume his pose – bright emeralds shining with tears, scarlet cheeks glistening with moisture, the tip of his nose red with warmness.

“Undo you braid,” John commanded, his gaze held captive by the pain-lines around Rick’s eyes and mouth.

Rick’s hands trembled as he complied with the command.

“Feet wider,” came the next order and Rick whimpered, knowing what was coming.

The strikes fell down Rick’s inner thighs and Rick screamed. He fell back, letting his body-weight rest on his hands. His fingers tried to clutch the short-haired rug decorating their floor as he wailed, whimpered and moaned his pain and pleasure. The contrast of the pain blossoming on his flesh as the belt met his thighs and the pleasure bursting just milliseconds later in his brain was exquisite to John’s eyes and soul. When Rick started to slip into a trance, John grabbed him off floor and took him to bed.

****

The room designated for the meeting was a small lounge with walls painted in a soft blue and decorated with several large paintings of flowered fields and houses along narrow streets. Milton seated himself on a comfortable sofa and pulled Austin down next to him. Sheldon stood to the right of his master, his collar visible and his hands clasped behind him in a position of rest and deference.

“Master, should I kneel or take a seat in one of the armchairs?”

Milton heard the sharp intake of breath from Robert and the other man who had yet to be introduced and saw the open stare of curiosity on Harry’s face. Milton’s initial fury had cooled now, and he studied young Harry. The man shifted under Milton’s gaze and reached for a water bottle that he clutched too tightly, but didn’t unscrew the cap and take a drink. His eyes, an interesting hazel color, were clouded with uncertainty and worry. He caught Milton’s eyes and smiled tentatively before dropping his eyes in what appeared to be shame and embarrassment.

Damn, Milton groaned inwardly. More complications. Harry was merely a kid. He hadn’t known and to brutally destroy his confidence as a dominant would be no better than these pompous monstrosities. That boy needed to learn and understand, but he didn’t need broken in a thousand bits.

Robert smiled at Milton, seemingly oblivious to the young dominant that should have been under his charge. “You and Austin looked refreshed. I’m pleased that you both look more relaxed. I’ve asked Cooper Downing to sit in. He’s director of our training and counseling services, and I believe his experience will be invaluable.”

“May I ask his training?” Milton said with all the politeness he could muster. He rather expected his training came from a cereal box top.

“I have a degree in sociology with certificates in substance abuse counseling. I have held this position for five years,” Cooper said with remarkable steadiness as he met Milton’s brown eyes. “I’m mostly just a farm boy from Kansas, but I assume you were asking about my academic credentials.”

“Have you received any formal training as a dominant?” Milton asked, leaning back in the sofa and taking Austin’s hand.

“I think perhaps you misunderstand. We are not a BDSM community. I am not a dominant in the way you must understand it. We don’t have slaves or submissives. Our brats, as we like to fondly think of them, are equals. We just provide guidance when needed.”

“Equal,” Austin snorted and laughed. “Somehow in all my equality I’m not supposed to manage in waist deep ocean water. I’m supposed to need direction in things that anyone with a half of a brain should know.”

“Austin, don’t be rude,” Milton said softly.

Austin caught the warning immediately. His cheeks flushed a delightful pink, and he lowered his eyes in demure submission. “Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, boy. I do agree with you, but I believe we should state it in a more rational way, so these good sirs can’t dismiss it as us being emotionally distraught.”

“Pretty display,” Robert said, “but as Cooper was trying to explain, we don’t spend our evenings with whips and chains–I’m sure you’re good at that–but we live with a partner whom we cherish and protect. We provide true guidance and support. It’s not a fantasy or a show.”

“And you beat this guidance and support into your partners?” Milton asked.

“We never beat our brats,” Robert said, a chill dropping into his voice. “We frown upon anything beyond a light paddling. It’s discipline like you might use with any family member.”

“I hope you don’t advocate hitting children also,” Milton said, unable to hide the contempt in his voice.

“All our guests here are consenting adults.”

“Nice dodge,” Sheldon muttered. “May I continue, Master?”

“Try not to subject them to your full sarcastic onslaught.”

“I’ll try, Master.” Sheldon grinned, a flash of humor and mischief danced in his green eyes. “It would be tempting to be awful, but I’ll refrain.” 

“I expect your behavior to reflect properly on your master.”

“Of course,” Sheldon said with another grin. “Gentlemen, I am a slave. My will is my master’s, and I give my will freely. The problem, as I see it, is that your boys, or brats if your prefer, are slaves with none of the safeguards to which they are entitled if their status was looked at honestly. I have a safeword. I have a contract. I have a master who understands his own motivations. He certainly doesn’t pretend it’s about teaching me not to go skateboarding in the dining room or any of the other more exotic rules.” 

“Some of our partners need guidance at times,” Robert said in a voice that suggested he practiced developing the right tone with a tape recorder and a mirror.

“To not jump off the roof?” Sheldon touched his collar, sliding it against his neck. “I understand the bratting. Master can tell you many tales of my younger days, but I knew it wasn’t real. I wasn’t incompetent, incapacitated, or insane; I just couldn’t ask for this. I was afraid of the commitment and dedication; I was afraid of the part of slavery we don’t do anyway. You, like I, are afraid of the word slavery. You imagine a boy strapped to a bench being fucked from both ends. That isn’t our relationship. I won’t insult you by pretending there isn’t a heavy element of our sexuality entwined in my slavery, but my relationship does allow Milton to interfere in my real life. It’s not all scene and play. I have what you imagine you’re giving your boys, and your poor boys haven’t a clue what they’re being asked to give. That is wrong. That might even be criminal.”

“A consensual spanking is hardly criminal,” Robert said, his controlled veneer starting to slip. “I’ve seen things at supposed scene parties that were certainly arrest worthy.”

“Your staff violated my boy’s safeword,” Milton said with icy contempt. “By the very definition of a safeword, you moved into the realm of non-consent. Sexual assault carries significant criminal penalties.”

“Sexual assault,” Harry repeated; his voice filled with horror. “I didn’t…”

“I know,” Milton said, swallowing the automatic my lad that he’d heard so often from Gordon. “Your training has been reprehensibly incomplete. You, I believe, are perhaps as horrified as my boy was at your actions. Their behavior is reprehensible.” Milton tipped his head to include Robert and Cooper. “I believe your behavior was merely ignorant and reckless. Untrained dominants can be very dangerous, and without training you have no business practicing the art of dominance.”

Cooper leaned in and whispered something to Harry too softly for Milton to make out. Robert glared at Milton, a look that probably intimidated many, but merely bounced off Milton as if it were a paper soldier sent to lead an infantry charge.

“Verbally assaulting the staff is beneath most of our guests. I guess we should expect nothing more from your type,” Robert said with a slight sneer.

“What is our type?” Sheldon asked with a glint in his green eyes that Milton recognized as danger. Sheldon managed the explosive and impulsive side of his personality well, but it was brimming to escape to the surface.

“You’re nothing but a filthy whore putting out for a bully.”

Milton wasn’t twenty anymore. He’d thought he’d mastered the fire and brutality of his disposition, but in one step he was out of his chair and had jerked Robert up by the lapels of his expensive jacket. Robert’s head and shoulders hit the wall with a bone rattling thud.

“An insult to my slave is an insult to the master,” Milton said with slow and deliberate precision. “I will take great delight in ruining you.”

“Master, his words are the noises of a babbling idiot; an interview with an orangutan at the local zoo would be more enlightening. He’s not worth it.”

“Sheldon, I won’t scramble the two brain cells that this gentleman might possess. I have better means of ruin. He should think the laws of civilized nations that dueling is no longer a recognized means of dealing with such pests and thank Gordon for teaching me to contain my temper. However, he should also curse Gordon for putting other tools in my arsenal. Financial ruin can be equally entertaining.” Milton removed his hands from Robert and slowly turned back to the sofa.

“And you call yourself a top,” Robert blustered, “with that shameful display of temper. It’s no wonder your brats are out of control. It’s a pity we can’t take them into protective custody.”

“Get this man out of here,” Milton growled, squeezing his fists tight and fighting for control with each breath. 

It was Sheldon who recognized Milton’s true anger and grabbed Robert and propelled him toward the door. “Get out. Move. He’s not a saint. Untamed and unrestrained he is dangerous. We understand this danger; you do not. Move.” With a final push, Sheldon shoved a confused Robert out the door. “That man can’t recognize and angel when he sees one,” Sheldon said brightly and tumbled into Milton with an obvious play for a quick hug.

“He almost saw the devil,” Milton said and kissed Sheldon’s cheek. “You were the angel of mercy, getting him out the door.

“We should both get a set of wings for that–me for helping him locate the exit, you for not beating some sense into him.”

“It is my duty to uphold consent. No matter the personal satisfaction, I cannot touch him.”

“I know,” Sheldon answered, wiggling under Milton’s arm and fitting against his hip in easy comfort, “but they don’t.”

“They know nothing. That is obvious.”

“Then we must teach them.”

“We can only teach those who are willing to learn. They seem satisfied with their myths and superstitions. False gods can be very comforting. Our reality is hard and sharp and not without brutality. I can hardly compete against their vision of a perfect world.”

“A perfect world where they hurt our cub, a perfect world where you want to splatter their director’s brains into the wall, a perfect world where John looks homicidal.”

“John always looks homicidal; that’s one of his charms,” Milton said with a laugh, willing the tension from his body.

Cooper, forgotten on the sofa, joined in the laughter with a soft chuckle. “I’m glad that’s over. I was starting to become a little nervous.”

“You should be nervous,” Milton clipped out. “The incident with Austin is only a minute sampling of the disaster that has taken place within these beautiful grounds. It is a disgrace and a travesty to every man and woman who enters a power exchange with honest intentions. Your dominants are either entirely untrained or willfully ignorant, and your submissives have been systematically browbeaten until they are but a dull ember, instead of a bright flame. As a dominant, I am ashamed for you. Come, Austin, Sheldon. We have no more business here.”