cheek.
They were unbelievably soft. “What are you—”
Aiden began.
“Shh,” Keaton said. He grinned devilishly and
brought the paintbrush between Aiden’s legs, letting the
fine, silky bristles glide over Aiden’s balls.
“No,” Aiden said, squirming desperately. “You
can’t.”
“I am,” Keaton said, brushing Aiden’s balls again.
He dragged the brush up the shaft of Aiden’s cock, then
back down.
“Oh God.”
Keaton increased the speed of his brushstrokes,
going up and down and back and forth, covering Aiden’s
cock, balls, and the skin behind his balls. Finally Keaton
focused his attentions on the head of Aiden’s cock. Aiden
yelped and came, his cum collecting in the bristles.
Keaton swept sticky wetness over Aiden’s belly and
inner thighs, painting him with it. Aiden clutched the
workbench, gasping. “Did I ruin your brush?” he asked
finally.
Keaton burst out laughing. “That’s all you can
say?”
Aiden blushed. “I mean, that was—I just—”
“It can be cleaned,” Keaton said, kissing him.
* * * *
Over the next few days, Keaton continued to give
Aiden brief writing assignments to help generate ideas
for his personal statement. Aiden continued to brush
them off. The deadlines for the applications were now
less than a month away. He’d arranged to audition
privately for Case Western in mid-December and would
be sending a video audition to Irvine and to State. He
worked on a couple of short monologues each day while
Keaton was teaching, and felt more discouraged each
time he practiced them.
I suck. I absolutely suck. I’ll never get in. Why waste the
program directors’ time—and my own?
The stress made him irritable. Keaton had had to
warn him a couple of times already this week to Be
Respectful, and to Talk to Him if There Was a Problem.
Fuck respectful. And fuck talking to Keaton about
his feelings. Sex was the only thing that took his mind off
the stress, and he sought Keaton out as often as possible
for it, until by the end of the week his cock and asshole
were both sore and raw.
Thursday night found him sniping at Keaton as he
struggled to sort through the mess of feelings inside him.
“Something wrong?” Keaton asked as Aiden
chopped onion for supper, slamming the knife against
the cutting board.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Aiden muttered.
“Y—”
“If you’re going to start on that ‘share your feelings’
bullshit, you can save it. I don’t want to talk. I just want
to fucking cook”—SLAM—“in”—slam—“peace.” The
cutting board tipped, and the onion rolled into the sink.
Aiden was about to throw the knife in after it when
Keaton took his wrist and removed the knife from his
hand.
“That’s enough now,” Keaton whispered. “Go sit
down. I’ll take care of dinner.”
“You sit down!” Aiden shouted, trying to pull
away.
Keaton held on, neither tightening his grip on
Aiden nor losing his temper. “Come on, now.” He led
Aiden, cursing and pulling, to the kitchen table.
“I’m not going to sit down! I’m not going to fucking
sit down! Let go of me, you bastard!”
Keaton spun Aiden so that his back was pressed
against Keaton and he was trapped by his own arms.
“No!” Aiden stomped one foot.
“I’d think twice before you kick me,” Keaton said
calmly.
Aiden thought about it. Twice.
And decided to do it.
Keaton evidently anticipated the kick and moved
his leg.
“Fuck!” Aiden thrashed until he was exhausted,
and Keaton never budged.
The next thing Aiden knew, he was slumped in a
chair, head resting against Keaton’s stomach. Keaton was
his own sobs as though they were someone else’s. He
didn’t want to be here; he refused to be here. He wanted
to be far away. This was someone else losing control,
someone else being a coward and a jerk.
“Aiden?” Keaton’s voice was loud as though he’d
been trying to get Aiden’s attention for some time.
Aiden reluctantly sat up, refusing to look at Keaton.
He let Keaton lift him out of the chair and guide him into
the living room, onto the couch. Aiden stared resolutely
at the floor. Keaton didn’t speak, just continued stroking
Aiden’s back.
“I haven’t been doing the writing assignments,”
Aiden said hoarsely. “I could never think of anything to
write, so I didn’t do them.” He swallowed. “Now my
applications are due in a few weeks, and I still don’t
have a personal statement. I have to audition, but my
monologues are terrible—” His voice broke. “I can’t. I
can’t fucking do this. I’m not good enough; I don’t know
what I’m doing. I can’t even get the applications done… ”
“Shh,” Keaton said, pulling him close. Aiden
resisted for a moment, then let his head fall on Keaton’s
shoulder. “These are the kinds of things I want you to
tell me,” Keaton said. “You don’t ever have to let
yourself get this stressed.”
“There’s nothing you can do! You can’t make me a
better actor. You can’t write my statement for me. So
what fucking good would it do?”
“I’ll help you. I won’t let you go through this
alone.”
“It’s not your business whether I fuck up my life or
not,” Aiden snapped.
“I believe we’ve agreed it is my business.”
Aiden closed his eyes. Shit. “You can’t help me,” he
repeated.
“You don’t know that until you let me try.”
I am so dead. Keaton was right, and Aiden was
positive he was in hot water. Suddenly nothing about a
discipline relationship seemed silly at all. Run, Cole.
While you still can.
“Okay,” Aiden said, voice as steady as he could
make it. “I’ll do better. I’ll tell you next time.”
“Good,” Keaton said.
He didn’t say anything further, so Aiden took a
deep breath and asked, “Am I in trouble?”
Keaton squeezed his shoulder. “We’re going to
deal with the two broken rules, yes.”
“Two?” Aiden asked in a small voice.
“Do you know which ones?”
Aiden’s face burned. “Um—I was a shit to you. So
number one. Being respectful and mature?”
“You weren’t a shit. But you were disrespectful,
yes. And?”
“Number five? Not talking to you when I get
overwhelmed.”
“Good.”
Aiden warmed at the praise—pathetic, considering
his answers had just condemned him to his first real
punishment. He tu
rned his face so that he could inhale
the scent of Keaton’s shirt and of the warm, strong body
beneath. “And I lied to you about the writing
assignments. So number one again.”
Aiden waited for Keaton to push him away and
start punishing him, but Keaton kept rubbing his back.
“That about covers it,” Keaton said.
Aiden removed his face from Keaton’s shoulder,
though he still couldn’t meet the other man’s gaze. He
concentrated on his hands, folded in his lap. He would
have given about anything to be allowed to bite off a nail
or two. “So… what’s my punishment?”
“I think a spanking would clear the slate nicely.
Don’t you?”
No? “Um… I guess.”
This was too weird. Keaton was being way too nice.
And yet for some reason Aiden suddenly felt more
terrified than he’d ever been when Scott prepared to
whip him.
“Now?” he asked.
“If you’re ready.”
Aiden nodded, heart thudding. This was it. Keaton
was actually going to spank him—not as a game, and not
just a couple of swats to settle him down.
And not to harm him, Aiden reminded himself. At
least, Keaton had said he’d never do anything that left
marks. But that was before Aiden tried to kick him.
Keaton squeezed his shoulder. “Stand up.”
Keaton’s voice was as calm as ever, but there was a
new quality in his voice. It wasn’t sharp or hard or angry.
But it was authoritative, certain—and strangely
reassuring. Aiden suddenly understood how Keaton—
laid-back, friendly Keaton—could command respect.
He stood, trying not to let Keaton see him shake.
How could he possibly be this nervous about a
spanking? He’d been spanked dozens of times before. It
was a huge turn-on for him. Yet his dick was completely
soft, and his throat was dry, and he wanted to grab his
heart and shake it and order it to be still. He waited,
unsure what to do next. Keaton reached out and took his
wrist, guiding him closer to his lap.
“Keaton, wait!” He didn’t mean for the words to
escape, and he certainly didn’t expect Keaton to heed
them. But to his surprise, Keaton waited. Aiden
struggled to get his thoughts together, his breathing
under control. “This is—different,” Aiden stammered,
“than I thought.”
“There’s no rush,” Keaton said. “Talk to me.”
Aiden dropped his gaze. “Shit. I’m so sorry. I know
I deserve this. I’m just—I don’t know what’s wrong with
me.”
“Deep breath,” Keaton said. “It’s going to be all
right. I’m going to punish you. But I won’t harm you. I
know it’s frightening, but we’re doing this together.”
“I’m not scared of a spanking!”
“No. You’re scared of letting go, of surrendering, of
letting me see how you truly feel.”
“Fuck,” Aiden said softly. Keaton was right.
“But you’re safe here. You can react however you
want to. You can struggle, you can yell, you can cry—
anything. I won’t think any less of you.”
Aiden remembered how Scott had been turned on
when he fought. Was there a reason Keaton had
mentioned struggling? He should have known Keaton
had some weird kink. “Do you want me to struggle?” he
asked dully.
“What’s that?” Keaton asked.
“Do you want me to fight you? When you’re
spanking me? Is that—good, for you?”
Keaton sighed and pulled Aiden back down to the
couch. He lifted Aiden’s chin, forcing him to meet his
eyes. “Aiden. Remember, this isn’t something I do for
pleasure. This is to help you. If you need to struggle,
do.”
“Shit. Keaton. I’m fucking this all up.”
“You’re not. You’re doing fine.”
Aiden swallowed. “Scott liked when I fought him. I
just—I don’t quite understand what the difference is
yet.”
“Would you like to see?” Keaton asked.
“Okay. Okay, let’s get it over with.” Aiden stood.
He fumbled with his fly. Keaton eased his hand away
and took over, undoing Aiden’s jeans and sliding pants
and underwear down to midthigh. Aiden winced as cool
air played over his exposed rump.
Keaton took his wrist once more and guided Aiden
over his lap so that Aiden’s upper body was supported
by the couch and his legs hung down, toes touching the
carpet. He felt ludicrously young and extremely foolish.
Keaton tipped him forward slightly so that his butt was
higher in the air.
Jesus. How did I ever think this was sexy?
Worse than the embarrassment was the knowledge
that he deserved this. He’d been horrible to Keaton and
had compromised himself as well. He deserved much
worse than a spanking. If Keaton had any sense, he’d
take his belt to him.
He tried to breathe, reminding himself that it
wouldn’t really hurt. It was just the vulnerability of his
position that was hard to deal with. He jumped as
Keaton rested a palm on the small of his back, then
moved it down to Aiden’s bottom. He patted softly.
“Relax.”
Not a chance. Aiden tensed, waiting for the first slap.
When it didn’t come, he took another deep breath, trying
to relax. Keaton patted his butt again, as though in
approval, then lifted his palm and brought it down
across the center of both cheeks. Hard.
Aiden sucked in a breath. Really hard! The center of
Aiden’s bottom blazed, and the sting was just starting to
spread when Keaton lifted his hand and brought it down
again.
Oh God. I can’t do this. This fucking hurts !
Keaton picked up speed, alternating cheeks,
building the fire quickly and steadily. The whacks were
impossibly loud in the otherwise silent living room.
What really surprised Aiden was how much it stung.
He’d been whipped, flogged, paddled, even caned, but
the deep, bruising pain of those spankings was
something entirely different from the maddening sting of
this punishment.
Keaton smacked the crest of each buttock until
Aiden finally lunged forward in an effort to get Keaton to
hit somewhere else. But Keaton worked over that same
area until Aiden couldn’t control his legs’ twitching and
kicking. He stayed quiet, though, not even whimpering
as Keaton returned to the center of his butt, smacking
both cheeks at the same time, over and over. He was
shocked at how genuinely sorry he felt. All he wanted
was for this to be over, for Keaton to forgive him. After
that, Aiden promised himself, he’d never break another
rule.
Keaton stopped and rested his palm on Aiden’s
blazing butt. “When you have a problem—when you’re
feeling stressed or unsure or upset—you need to tell me.
If you’d told me fr
om the beginning that you were
having trouble with your writing assignments, that you
were discouraged about your monologues, we could
have addressed those issues right away. Instead you let
your frustration build until you had to take it out on
somebody. On me.”
Tears welled in his eyes. The spanking stung, but
Keaton’s words stung much worse.
“I’m on your side, Aiden. You need to trust me.”
Keaton rubbed Aiden’s sore cheeks, soothing some of the
fire away.
“I’m sorry,” Aiden whispered.
“I know,” Keaton said. “Let’s finish this.”
Aiden shut his eyes, and Keaton began whacking
again, a sharp hail of swats that made circuits over
Aiden’s cheeks. Aiden urged himself to stay still but
couldn’t help wriggling a little, arching his back and
trying to twist away.
Keaton held him firmly and began to address the
lower curves of Aiden’s backside, right where his
buttocks met his thighs, and the tears started flowing
then. Aiden pressed his legs shut and bucked a little,
then went limp. He cried silently, afraid this might never
end, that Keaton might just keep spanking that sensitive
juncture forever.
But Keaton did stop, and Aiden lay quivering
across his lap, sucking deep breaths. Keaton tilted him
sideways, hauled him into his lap, and hugged him
close. Aiden pressed against him, wishing he could
disappear inside Keaton. Keaton held him until he was
cried out, murmuring something Aiden couldn’t make
out at first.
“I know… I know… ” Keaton was saying, and
Aiden realized he’d been saying the words “I’m sorry”
over and over.
Aiden quieted and slumped against the older man.
“Jesus,” he muttered. “That hurt.”
Keaton kissed the top of his head. “Keep that in
mind when you’re tempted to keep secrets in the future.”
“Yeah.” Aiden’s voice still shook.
“Ready for some dinner?”
“You expect me to sit at the table? After that?”
Keaton chuckled. “Three meals a day, remember?
Unless you want another spanking.”
“No,” Aiden said hastily. “I’ll eat.”
“You can sit on the chair with the cushion.”
Aiden rolled his eyes. “You’re so considerate.”
“Why thank you,” Keaton said, dropping another
quick kiss on the top of his head. “I do try.”
* * * *
Aiden ran through his Shakespeare monologue for