Gilliflowers (26 page)

You’ll have dinner ready as usual and you’ll also have a smile on your lovely face, false smiles are permissible. If you’re still in a shitty mood.” He gave me a hard look.

“It won’t be Shane who sorts you out, it will be me and believe me I’ll sort you out properly.”

He walked out of the kitchen, leaving me utterly dumbfounded. I had even less control over the situation than I’d had before. Fury surged through me and before I knew it I’d swiped the crockery drainer from the sink sending its assorted contents crashing to the floor.

Dick made a swift reappearance in the kitchen. My balls sharply constricted, as he shed his jacket and flung it aside before heading straight for me. One thing was clear.

I’d pushed his button big time. There was absolutely no compromise in his stride as he bore down on me. I was an endangered houseboy and there was no sign of a conservation movement waving banners urging ‘Save The Houseboy.’

I tried to sidestep him, but failed. Bending me over he tucked me under his left arm and laid into my backside with his hand. My cotton shorts provided scant padding. I squalled and squirmed as the pain and heat built in my buttocks. He lost his grip on me and I ended up on the floor on my hands and knees. As far as reprieves went it was short-lived. Grasping me by the scruff of my t-shirt he hauled me upright, ripping the material under the arms in the process.

A heavyweight rubber spatula had been amongst the items on the drainer tray. I’d used it to stir Shane’s scrambled eggs earlier on. Dick picked it up off the floor. I’m not ashamed to confess to a sense of panic as he roughly manhandled me towards the breakfast nook. He was displaying a much tougher aspect than I was used to.

“Dick, please, I’m…” my intended apology ended in a squawk as he whacked my arse with the spatula.

“It’s Daddy to you and sorry does not suffice in this instance, so save your breath.” Pulling out a kitchen chair he thrust me over the back of it and yanked down my shorts. “You’re a destructive, foul tempered, spoilt man and I’ve helped do the spoiling, but no more.”

I bellowed as the rubber paddle struck bare skin. He didn’t hold back, applying it with rapid full strength strokes. My poor bottom soon felt like it had been plunged into a nest of enraged hornets. The stinging was unbearable especially when it spilled down the backs of my thighs. Wooden spoons, pasta measures and rubber spatulas should only be available on licence to people who promise to utilise them for cooking purposes alone. I was going to clear the kitchen of the evil transformers. Fucking Decepticons.

Tightly gripping the chair seat I moaned my misery as rubber mercilessly beat heat into my hindquarters. It seemed to go on forever. The world fell out of all existence. There was nothing except me and the wicked implement scorching my flesh, this was surely what Hell was like. It was fortunate the spatula was made from high-grade heat resistant rubber otherwise it would have melted in the firestorm it generated on my backside.

I thought it was over when Dick moved the hand he’d had pressed between my shoulders to keep me positioned for punishment. I was wrong. It reached between my legs to cup my shrunken dick and balls drawing them forwards. I was startled and tried to stand up, but he barked a command to remain bent over the chair. Keeping the hand over my jewels to protect them, and effectively anchoring me in the process, he pushed my legs well apart and then rapidly whipped the spatula back and forth between my inner thighs. The sting was excruciating. I became aware of a dreadful squealing noise filling the kitchen. It took a few seconds to register I was the source of it. I gave way to the tears I’d been stubbornly holding back, sobbing and snorting them into the chair seat.

Clattering the spatula onto the table Dick autographed his rubber craftwork by applying another round of palm prints to my bottom and then pulled me upright.

To my mind if ever a moment legitimately called for mindless fucking hysteria this was it. I went for it. “I’m sorry,” I clutched at him blubbing snot into his shirtfront, “but I can’t do this, Daddy. I hate it. I can’t do it. I can’t. It’s an excessive penalty. I feel so angry about it and so angry with you.”

“You’re confusing can’t with won’t, Gilli, that’s the crux of the matter. You’re dwelling on what you personally want. You’re not a free agent, my dear. Your obligations to us outweigh any other considerations and you know it. You’re simply being stubborn over this issue.” He hugged me fiercely. “It’s all very well being the perfect sub in the bedroom when the payoff ultimately suits you, that’s the easy part of our lifestyle, the bit where it all comes together and feels fantastic. It’s the rest of it that tests the mettle. I know it better than anyone. I believe you have the mettle, Gil, and so does Shane, otherwise we would never have allowed you to become a part of our world, never.”

I managed to raise my head from his chest to look at him, “do you really mean that?”

“Yes.” He pulled his shirt cuff down over his hand and used it to mop my face.

“You didn’t have to seek permission. You could have paid lip service to obedience. It would be a matter of ease for you to go to Lee’s party, have a drink, stay over and arrive home sober the next day leaving us none the wiser. You asked because you respect our relationship and you want to honour its terms, even when you hate them.

You don’t want to go behind our backs. Yes, you want your own way, but you want it with a household stamp of approval. You haven’t got it and you’re not going to get it.

You’re going to resign yourself to your punishment instead of constantly demanding retraction.”

He gave my hot bottom a light rub and then grasped my hand. “I need to change this shirt. Come on, you bad boy, upstairs. I’ll rub some aloe on your sore bits, not that you deserve such consideration.”

In the bedroom I bent over the end of the bed, wincing as he massaged aloe lotion onto my bottom and then the tender inflamed skin of my inner thighs. “That was horrible, Dick. It hurt like hell.”

“It was meant to. You needed a good sharp shock.” He screwed the top back on the lotion bottle. “I know how much it hurts. I’ve experienced similar punishment a time or two when I’ve pushed the top man a little too hard. Be grateful I didn’t have a nursery cane or a crop to hand.” He set the bottle aside. “And I didn’t get beneficial treatment afterwards.” He gave a small smile as I straightened up and faced him, but it lacked conviction. I knew he was upset by what had happened between us.

“I’m sorry for being a shit and losing my temper. I’ll replace the broken things.”

“You will.” He began unbuttoning his stained shirt. “I can’t guarantee you won’t get another good hiding when Shane hears about it. You know how he feels about such behaviour. You have no right to destroy things just to slake your temper.”

“Does he have to know, Dick?”

“Of course he does. All else aside he’ll want a damn good explanation as to why I paddled your backside so hard. If I don’t give one my backside will suffer and it will suffer far more than yours.” He shrugged his shirt off and then took me into his arms for a cuddle. We stood in silence for a few minutes, he playing with my hair and me taking comfort in his sweat scented body heat and his caresses.

He spoke first. “I must get to work. I’ve got a client appointment. I need to have a quick wash. I’m all sweated up with your nonsense.” He peeled me away from his body and held me at arm's length. “Put some clothes and shoes on and get the mess you created in the kitchen cleaned up.”

I did as I was told, changing into a pair of baggy lightweight shorts and slipping on a pair of canvas deck shoes. By the time Dick had freshened up and changed I had picked up the kitchen debris and binned it. I accompanied him to the front door where he left me with a cool kiss goodbye and an announcement.

“I’m going to ask Shane to dock you a week’s wage for the breakages.”

“Dick! No way does it amount to a week’s wages. It was two cups, a saucer and a bowl.”

“I know, but the loss of money might make you less willing to take out your wicked temper on household objects. Go and get on with your job, while I get to mine.” He walked to his car and got into it, driving off without turning to wave to me, which upset me as much if not more than the discipline he’d meted out.

Closing the door I returned to the kitchen, carefully lowering my backside onto a chair. Despite the application of cooling lotion my buttocks and thighs were horribly sore. It was going to be an uncomfortable day. Leaning my left elbow on the table I rested my head against my hand, my mind in turmoil. I was stunned by the events of the morning, and the previous evening. One thing was clear. If ever anything did happen to Shane then Dick would make the transition to sole alpha without any bother at all. He had proven he was able and willing to be every bit as tough as Shane.

Shane was first home, even earlier than usual for a Friday. I was in the kitchen when he arrived. I didn’t go to greet him. I waited nervously for him to come to me, guessing Dick would have told him about what had taken place between us. My mouth dried as he walked into the kitchen. The pain in my bottom and thighs had dulled from a fierce burn to an ache over the course of the day and I was praying he wouldn’t reawaken the sting by giving me a dose of the belt like he’d threatened. We looked at each other for a moment. I lowered my gaze first, feeling a flush creep over my face.

Walking over to me he took hold of my arm. Turning me sideways he lowered my shorts and bent me over slightly, silently inspecting my buttocks and thighs. “You’ll live.” He pulled my shorts back up and fixed me with a cold look. “Dick said you apologised to him for your behaviour. I’ll take my apology in writing. He suggested I deduct a week’s wages from your salary. I agreed. I’ll donate it to a children’s charity, it seems appropriate in the circumstances. It might make you think twice before indulging in destruction. I’m going for a shower. Write your apology and bring it upstairs.”

As soon as he left the kitchen I pulled a chair out from under the table and sat down. It hadn’t been as bad an interview as I’d feared, but my knees were still quivering like jelly.

The front door opened and closed. Dick arriving home, though he didn’t sound his usual fanfare of arrival. He might be home, but I was not his honey. He went straight upstairs. I found a writing pad and wrote out an apology for Shane, keeping it formal, addressing him as his discipline persona, Daddy. I acknowledged my behaviour had been abhorrent and begged his pardon. I put the finished note in an envelope and took it upstairs.

Shane was power showering. I could hear the water running like a tempest. Dick was undressing. I said hello, getting a polite hello in return. I put the envelope on the dresser and silently gathered their discarded clothes together, folding trousers and hanging jackets, taking shirts, socks and underwear down to the laundry basket in the utility room.

Dinner was subdued or at least I was. They talked to each other, discussing aspects of their day as usual. Shane commented on the pork tenderloin I served for the main course, saying it was tasty. I smiled and looked at Dick, hoping he’d add a compliment too, but he didn’t.

I didn’t eat much, which drew another comment from Shane. I explained about the antibiotics disagreeing with my stomach, which he accepted.

I kept glancing at Dick. It was the toughest he’d ever been with me. I was upset, but I also had a hard on. I can’t say I felt one hundred percent sexually aroused, not in a harmonious way at least. After dinner I cleared up and then made coffee, taking it through to the lounge. Dick was working on his laptop. He murmured thanks as I poured him a cup of coffee, but didn’t look at me. I wanted him to look at me, to smile. I wanted him to notice me. Hell I just wanted him. I looked at Shane, who seemed to understand, because he inclined his head towards the floor at Dick’s feet rather than his own. I sat down. Dick ignored me. It made me want him more.

I sat there all evening, listening to their conversation, not saying a word, conscious of my aching backside and throbbing cock. It seemed a shame to waste a good pondering opportunity, so those of you made impatient by such internal meanderings may skip ahead now.

I returned to the thought I’d had about Dick being able to take the mantle of sole alpha should the need arise. Perhaps it explained the sexual charge I was experiencing, knowing he was able to take charge of me, as well as take care of me.

Maybe that’s why I push as often as I do? It’s a way of seeking reassurance I’m with men who won’t give up on me. Shane has always maintained I need a firm hand attached to a strong Dom who I can’t easily wear out. It’s one of the reasons I’m seldom permitted or encouraged to participate in scenes outside the privacy of home.

I’m one of those boys who do not play well with others. I feel compelled to push beyond designated limits, including my own thus leading to frustrations and dangers all round. In short as Shane often says in tones of deep exasperation, I’m
‘fucking
exhausting.’

Shane concluded the matter between Dick and me at ten. Looking at him he said quietly, “take your boy to bed, cariad, he needs your attention. He’s served his penance well.”

Dick nodded and got to his feet. He took my hand and pulled me to mine and lead me up to bed. Sex was good. The original man from Del Monte would have been proud of the way we each said yes at our optimum moments. Better still was the cuddle and the long slow kiss he gave me afterwards. I drifted to sleep in his arms. I was his honey again, forgiven if not excused. I could look forward to the weekend ahead.

Saturdays are usually lie in mornings, but Shane was scheduled to travel to Hexham to chair some meeting or other so it was business as usual for the houseboy.

The only concession was the alarm sounding its call at six-thirty instead of six.

Reaching out a hand I turned it off and lay for a moment in drowsy denial of its command. I then girded my loins, shifted my arse into work mode and got up. I went to the loo for a pee, inspected my bum and thighs, which were still marked, but not as sore as they had been. I pulled on shorts and a tee and headed downstairs to begin my duties.