Bad Behavior (Bad in Baltimore) (34 page)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Beach’s stomach rode a pendulum between anticipation and jittery fear. The swing tightened, grew shorter with every minute that brought him closer to his seven o’clock appointment with his Dom. The delicious dread, the shivering promise that had been a part of his life since Tai had first mentioned the word
punishment
, ratcheted right up with that tension. Even knowing this would be uncomfortable—
Man up, Beach, it’s going to hurt
—couldn’t stop the dizzying buzz that came from submitting to Sir.

He’d followed every one of Tai’s instructions, gotten up to the alarm he’d set, done the physical-therapy exercises. The mundane took on a shine when the actions were for Tai. Even the discomfort of leaving off underwear under his baggy shorts.

Being sent to a strange address was curiously reassuring. Beach needed this to be intense. Different. That he’d been sent here was proof Tai understood how badly Beach needed to fix the shame and guilt he’d never be able to outrun the usual way. He didn’t even want to try. He deserved whatever Tai had planned.

The GPS took him to a big-for-the-city three-story brick house with black trim. Beach wished he’d seen it when it had last been on the market. He’d have grabbed it—assuming it wasn’t haunted. He stood on the stoop and pressed the intercom button.

The door buzzed an instant later, and he remembered the direction to take off his shoes. The place was nicer inside. Solid Mission furniture in the foyer, all restored hardwood floors, oak if he wasn’t mistaken. And he knew focusing on all those details was a way of trying to distract himself from what was waiting up those stairs.

Which turned out to be Tai, and Beach was so happy to see him he almost forgot to hand over the note he’d been instructed to write, explaining why he deserved to be punished.

Tai took the note with a nod and Beach knelt, sinking back onto his heels, hands on his thighs. That hadn’t been in the instructions, but it felt like the right thing to do. Overhead the paper whispered in Tai’s hands, and then Beach’s heart was beating too loud to hear anything but the ocean-wave rush of blood in his ears.

“Up.”

As Beach stood, another man stepped into the hall. He was slight and dark, with a sharp nose and ink-black hair, thick and cut close to his head. Something about him suggested a thin blade, compact and lethal, with a power radiating from him that made Beach want to kneel again.

“David, this is Nic. It’s his house.”

Nic offered his hand. “Nice to meet you, David.” There was a trace of a Greek accent in his consonants.

“Your home is lovely. Thank you for having me.” The polite response was formulaic, but he was sincere. Though it held a touch of the absurd, considering they all knew why Beach was here. He didn’t need to be told Nic was also a Dom.

“Nic can stay and help or he can leave us alone. Your choice, David.”

“It’s up to you, Sir.”

“I want you to decide.” Even the choice was a command.

“How would he help?”

Nic’s brows were dark and curled like commas toward the bridge of his nose, a powerful addition to a sardonic smile. “Not being involved directly, I can make sure you’re both safe and comfortable.”

“I trust Tai.”

“Of course, but I mean hydrated or comfortable with the room temperature.”

Once they started, Beach really hoped they wouldn’t have to stop until it was over. In fact, he wanted to fast-forward all the way to where this was over and the guilt was gone. “You can stay.”

Those quirked brows made it hard to tell if Nic was surprised or smug. “After you.” He waved Beach toward the open door.

Eli had mentioned dungeons briefly, but if that was what this was, it wasn’t anything like Beach had imagined. The long, open room might have been an expansive home gym—though a second look showed that the equipment here and there was all about restraint, holding someone still for spanking, beating, fucking.

“Do you need the bathroom?” Nic asked.

“No.” The room was bright, with warm track lights. If you weren’t there to be strapped down and spanked, the room would be comfortable, inviting.

Tai walked over to a large wardrobe and opened it. Inside were paddles and straps and whips and lengths of bamboo. Beach held his breath.

“Come here and pick out two implements.”

When Tai had opened the cabinet, Beach had dreaded the possibility of any of those smacking into him. Having to pick made it worse. He skipped past one paddle the size and shape of the bath brush. The strap looked deadly. Beach unhooked a clear plastic paddle that was heavier than it should have been. But he was getting the hang of this. A bigger surface area spread out the pain.

He’d avoided looking directly at the bamboo cane, but it had been at the front of his mind since Tai opened the case. Essentially it was a thick switch, right? Beach already knew how bad that was and that he could get through it. He gripped it and lifted it down, handing them both to Tai.

“Take off your shorts and put them on that stool.”

If Beach didn’t have so many good associations with Sir’s stern voice, he’d have been terrified. Still, his stomach had cement-shoed butterflies bouncing in it. He was reaching for his shirt when Tai said, “Leave that on.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Tai led Beach to the equipment that looked like a low vaulting horse. There were no pommels to grip, and Tai had Beach stretch out across the length of the padded top, the Naugahyde cool under his skin, even through his shirt. Gripping his hips, Tai adjusted Beach until his weight was mostly on the horse, legs spread outside the metal supports.

Usually, Tai’s hand on Beach’s dick was a guaranteed case of wood. But as Tai tugged to make sure Beach’s junk was hanging free between his open legs, he might as well have been saying turn your head and cough for all the juice Beach got pumping.

Tai stepped around to Beach’s face and put each of his wrists in cuffs that kept him tight against the faux-leather padding. “I know you’re a good boy, but I need to make sure you don’t move. I don’t want to hit anything but your ass.”

Another strap went over the small of Beach’s back, and his ankles were cuffed to the metal legs. Since his dick and balls were dangling, exposed, Beach didn’t want Tai to miss his target either.

Tai came back around and put his hands on Beach’s face, tipping his neck up. “I already forgave you, David. But I’m giving you this because we both need you to forgive yourself. We don’t stop until you’re done. So I want you to tell me what’s going on in your head.”

“Yes, Sir. I’m nervous.”

Tai’s thumb rested for an instant on the spot where Beach’s skull had been depressed on that trip off the bridge. One stroke across the scar and then his hands were gone. “This is serious punishment. You don’t get a warm-up. It’s going to hurt, and you’re going to be very sore when we’re done.” Tai released Beach’s head.

Beach settled against the padding with a sigh. That was what he wanted. Well, he didn’t want it. He couldn’t stand feeling like this, thinking he’d betrayed Tai for that abomination. Beach had been so stupid to miss his father, to try to help him, make him proud. If Beach could find the part of him that had done that, he’d cut it out himself.

Tai moved behind Beach, and the cane swished in the air. Beach jumped, but the rattan only rested against him, cool and smooth as silk. Tai tapped with the cane, quick and light, then harder. Then a jarring bounce. Shit. It hurt. The swishing noise became a whistle, and the solid rod slammed into Beach’s ass, sharp, burning.

He blew out a surprised yelp. Then, in that narrow spot where the cane had hit him, pain exploded, a fiery line with acid etching it deeper and deeper with every pulse from his heart. The sensation didn’t fade, it got worse, blazing like a knife cut. “Jesus.” What the fuck had he been thinking? That was nothing like the switch. He tried to lift up, but there was no room to move.

Tai patted him with the cane, under the first spot, and before Beach could form a no-way-in-hell protest, the cane zipped and sliced into him again, doubling, tripling the pain from the first stroke.

“Stop. I can’t. Sir. Please. I’m sorry. I can’t take this. Not the cane anymore. Anything else. I know it was wrong.” His ass burned. Just the cane resting against him made his body try to leap away, but the straps held him there.

Tai’s hand stroked Beach’s back under his shirt, and the deep, sexy voice rumbled in his ear. “You can take it, boy. You will take it. You know what to say if you want it to stop.”

Red.
It hung there between them, binding them together. Beach had the choice to stop it if he really wanted to. And what made that word, this whole balance between them so powerful was Beach knew it would stop. Nothing he’d ever done before to chase away being disappointed or disgusted with himself could be stopped so easily. He’d flung himself into those sensations without brakes.

“Yes, Sir.”

The cane rubbed, and Beach’s body wanted to know why he was so fucking insane that he didn’t make this stop when the third stroke buried itself into his skin.

Something came out of his throat. Half sob, half scream.

“Talk to me, David.” Tai stroked, then squeezed those cuts etched deep into Beach’s nerves.

David couldn’t find any words. Just sounds. No thoughts. His body trying to find a way to take this pain. His ass was burning, cold, hot.

If he apologized more, would it stop? What had Tai meant “until you’re done”?

“I don’t want any of this.” But that was a lie. Because he wanted the other side. The part where he’d earned Tai’s praise. Where Beach knew he was good. Why the fuck did this have to be so goddamned hard? If he had the timer, if he knew how many swings from the cane, and then God, the paddle—

Beach tried to get up. He jerked at the cuffs, kicked his trapped feet. Tai put a hand at the top of Beach’s ass.

Yes. That was why. That was the promise. Like an orgasm, it was hanging just out of reach. Tai’s hand lifted, and the cane came down sharply, making Beach groan out another desperate, “I’m sorry.”

Tai put a hot hand on Beach’s ass, squeezing out more pain. Though it was different, closer. “That’s it, boy. Give it to me. Tell me.”

The cane slid back and forth in the groove where Beach’s ass met his thighs. No. Not there. No. “No.” It slipped out, and then he couldn’t stop the words. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I do these stupid things. Why do I always do this? I hurt people I love. All those times I tried to help. Thought I wasn’t good enough. And he was never fucking worth it.”

The stroke slammed into that crease, a flood of pain, washing through him until it made him shake, and before the shock of impact had faded, another whipped across every single fiery line, lighting them up like brands. The flush spreading out from his ass, down his thighs and back up, buzzing, tingling, until it reached his head and rippled along his scalp. He sagged into the cushion. The straps weren’t holding him in place for the cane now; they were keeping him from floating up to the ceiling.

It hurt. God, it hurt, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing was here but Sir and David.

Sir pushed the hair away from David’s face. “So good, boy.”

“Thank you, Sir.” David knew how his drunk voice sounded. And that was definitely it.

Sir kissed his cheek. “Is it gone, baby?”

David remembered that horrible feeling, the way he couldn’t stop thinking about whether any of the times he’d done his father a favor, sent him money, if he had helped him rape a little girl. David had written it all down and given it to Sir. And Sir had taken it away and smashed it with the cane. Now there was a memory of it and that was all. He blinked.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” Sir kissed David’s cheek, his forehead, his neck, then released his hands.

“But the paddle. I betrayed your trust. Lied to you.”

Sir’s hand slapped down over bruised skin, pain shooting out along the lines, a match on lighter fluid. “Who decides if you’re punished?”

“You, Sir.”

“Good. And if I decide you need it, you’ll feel it. I forgive you, David.” He kissed him, slow, hot, hard.

“I love you, Sir.”

Nic left two bottles of water close by and put away the implements before fading into the woodwork to let Tai soothe and pet his boy back down alone. Nic had also offered to let them stay, and Tai knew how generous an act that was for Nic, but David had some real-world consequences, like a curfew. He was going to have to ride home on his freshly striped ass.

It was a shame he couldn’t ride home without his shorts. Tai was fascinated by the lines he’d put on David’s skin. He couldn’t stop touching them. The tight smoothness of the raised double edges, the dip where the tip had sunk in deep. He carried David to the couch in the corner and settled him on his lap.

“How do you feel?”

David gave him a smile. “Better. I can think about it without feeling sick. Thank you, Sir.”

“Thank you for trusting me with it.”

“You’re welcome.” David shifted. “Um. This doesn’t fade to the good kind of glow like the other spankings do.”

“No. It doesn’t.”

David gave a rueful laugh. “I guess that makes it a good reminder to think things through.”

They went back to the hotel in Tai’s car. He wanted to be sure David was safe from a drop and damn it, Tai wasn’t letting his boy out of his sight until he had to. He fed David from a stash of honey-roasted nuts in the kitchenette and made sure he drank lots of water.

And then Tai couldn’t wait anymore, and he tugged David into the bedroom and started sucking him off, fingers sunk into the welts, David’s cock deep in Tai’s throat as he gulped and sucked, sliding up enough to flutter his tongue under the ridge before sinking back down. He read the signs in David’s body, the involuntary jerk of his hips, the tightness in his ass and thighs, the pace of his breathing and moans, the sharper cry of “Jesus” a final warning.

Tai pulled off, wrapping his fingers tight around the base of David’s shaft. “No.”

David’s fists ground down against his thighs, but he got control.