The Art of Discipline

When they'd reached the bedroom once again, Lou flicked on the lamp and then turned to face his companion. It was only then that David realized Lou still had his boots on. He had been too busy looking at other areas earlier to notice.

David stared at the boots, slightly nonplussed. "Aren't you going to take your shoes off?" he asked.

"No, I think I'll keep them on," Lou said carefully. David thought that a bit odd, but Lou did look terribly sexy in the boots, even with nothing else on. He decided to leave it alone.

Suddenly Lou smiled, remembering something. He reached over to the cluttered dresser, picking up a thick black dog collar, complete with a silver ring where a leash could be attached. "This is for you," said he, handing the collar to David.

David took it, perplexed. It felt surprisingly heavy in his hand. The leather was slick and cool to the touch. A bit reluctantly, he started to put it on.

Lou stopped him. "Let me," he said, and with gentleness that as of late seemed quite out of character for him laced the collar around David's slim throat, stepping behind him to fasten the buckles. It was not until then that David realized how tall the boots made Lou seem. He was not sure why he had not noticed that before. The collar was tight about his neck, the cool leather pressing firmly to his skin, warming to his body's temperature. Lou's fingers were soft against his neck, tracing promises of what would come soon after.

Satisfied with his work, Lou leisurely made his way back around in front of David. With his movement so slow, so precise, it was as if he was teasing David. He placed both hands on each side of David's face, fingers brushing the bruise - pain tingling there, just slightly - and kissed his mouth, their lips slowly parting as tongues met. David gave the slightest moan into the other man's mouth - Lou always knew just how to turn him on. He moved his hands to Lou's chest, his palms rubbing across his nipples, sliding down his belly, his hips, his ass. Lou's own hands were wandering as well, knotting in David's hair, the other sliding over the curve of his belly to fondle between his legs. They wasted no time going to the bed; instead they both ended up on their knees there in the doorway, their kissing becoming hungrier, bestial. As David's tongue swirled inside Lou's mouth, an idea entered his mind that he had not entertained before. He was on top of Lou at the moment, pressed so closely to him that it was almost like holding him down, and the idea was more than thrilling. He smirked inwardly. Perhaps it was time to turn the tables on Mr. Reed.

When they finally broke the kiss it as only to move their mouths elsewhere, their necks twined together, catlike, lips and tongues adorning each other’s throats. Lou nibbled softly along David's jawline, and the redhead moaned his pleasure against the man's shoulder. They rolled together, David now lying on the carpet while Lou crouched over him, his tongue infusing pleasure into David's flesh.

Lou, unaware of David's plans, did not bother to pin him down just yet and instead concentrated his efforts on lapping softly just behind David's left ear. It felt amazing, but David managed to keep his head, seeing his opportunity presenting itself loud and clear. Moving with impressive dexterity he twisted beneath Lou's body, thrusting one hip forward and rolling the unsuspecting man onto his back, his own slim frame now on the top, legs drawn up and straddling Lou's hips. The look of surprise on Lou's face was priceless, and David immediately remembered how much he liked being the dominator. He smirked, leaning in to kiss Lou's mouth.

He didn't make it. Lou obviously was not in the mood to sub to David. He did not bother trying to throw him off; instead he reached between David's thighs, twisted his fingers into the thatch of pubic hair, and yanked.

Needless to say David let out quite a shriek at this. It did the trick, though, giving Lou the opportunity to get out of the younger man's grasp, sitting up and shoving David unceremoniously to the floor. David put a hand between his legs in a vain attempt to ease the still-searing pain, while Lou quickly got to his feet, standing over him. "Oh, you'll pay for that stunt, you little bitch," Lou snarled, not looking at all pleased.

David glared angrily up at him. He was tired of this game. "Fuck off, Lou," he snapped. "I'm leaving."

"Oh, I don't think so," Lou stated flatly, shutting the door as if for emphasis. "I'm not through with you."

"Well I'm through with you," David said nastily, getting to his feet. Lou was standing in front of the door, blocking it, but not purposely. "Get out of the way," David commanded.

Lou crossed his arms, staring at the other man evenly. "I think you need a lesson in discipline, little David," he said coolly. "Now: do you want to do this the easy way, or the hard way?"

David stood his ground. "I said get out of the way," he spoke lowly, squaring off against the other man.

Lou smiled and let his eyelids drop low over his eyes. "I was hoping you'd choose the hard way," he said darkly, and drew back his arm to fetch a sharp backhanded slap to David's face.

David saw the blow coming and dodged fairly well, the strike being not much more that a hard brush, but he had forgotten about his badly bruised cheek - even the slightest touch to the purplish skin was agonizing, and a blow of that magnitude was excruciating. He let out a strangled cry, stumbling a step or two backwards, clutching at his wounded cheek as Lou's smarmy laughter rang in his ears. "Bastard!" he swore, backing up towards the bed.

"Shut up," Lou growled, moving towards him. David released his injured cheek, which was now throbbing terribly, and tried to dodge around Lou towards the door. They moved back and forth in the small room like a pair of pugilists, Lou making occasional grabs for David's arm while the latter tried and failed time and again to find a way around his aggressor. The room was too narrow, the bed kept getting in the way - besides that Lou seemed to know each move he was going to make before he had made it, as if they were both pieces in some bizarre chess game- turned- two-step. Finally, this became too much for the frustrated David, and he hauled off and tried to shove the American out of the way. But Lou was no stranger to fights; he moved back as David came forward before he had a chance to knock him off balance and then caught both his wrists as he moved to push him, the two of them now locked together as David struggled to free his wrists and Lou struggled to hold on to them. It finally came to an end when David pulled back a bit too hard and jerked them both off balance, stumbling backwards and crashing onto the bed in a most comical tangle of limbs.

"God damn it," Lou breathed as he regained his grip on David's wrists, which were now pinned between their bodies. David said nothing, still recovering from having the air squashed from his lungs after Lou landed on him. The dark haired man glared down at him, panting slightly. "You are something else tonight, you know that?"

"Get the fuck off me!" David barked in his face, having regained his breath.

Lou did not look impressed. "I thought I told you to shut up," he snapped irritably. After a moment his anger seemed to fade a bit, and he bent his head to kiss the man beneath him, but David jerked away. "Well," Lou sneered. "I guess you're not going to make this any easier on yourself, are you?" David glared at him but said nothing. Lou just smiled. "Suit yourself."

David wondered what he was up to. His eyes flicked to the door - it was not a long way from the bed to there, and he was poised and ready to take flight the moment Lou eased enough weight off him. He did not expect it to be easy - but to his surprise Lou pushed himself up onto his feet without even bothering to try to hold him down. David wasted no time. He swung up off the bed and bolted for the door.

Unfortunately for him, he made his second fatal mistake of the night, completely forgetting that he was still wearing the dog collar. Lou, however, did not forget. He grabbed the thick leather strap as David tried to pass him, jerking the redhead to an immediate halt. It happened with such suddenness that David was not aware for a moment just what had stopped him - his mind was lost in the sudden tidal wave of pain, his breath abruptly cut off by the hard jerk on the collar. He crumpled to the ground, coughing, his fingers fumbling at his tortured throat.

For a long moment he was aware only of the aching in his throat as he tried to draw air back into his lungs, and it was for this reason that the sudden feel of Lou's fingers and cold metal against his wrists surprised him. He looked up just as he heard the unmistakable sound of a metal handcuff clicking shut.

David stared at his now-handcuffed wrist in utter shock, stupefied into immobility. As he gaped dumbly at his newly bound hand, Lou quickly attached the other cuff to the headboard. "Are you through?" he asked in annoyance.

David jerked against the restraint vainly, but as he'd already known it refused to even loosen. He stared at up Lou incredulously, more than a little afraid now. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

Lou ignored him. To David's amazement, he bent and scooped the younger man's small frame up off the floor, tossing him onto the bed. David was too surprised to struggle, but once on the bed he recovered his senses enough to try to roll over and get back to his feet. He might be handcuffed to the bed by one hand, but he still had the other, and he wasn't ready to give in without a fight. But before he had a chance Lou was already behind him, snapping another set of handcuffs to his free wrist, tugging his arm painfully back as he attached it to the headboard as well.

David squirmed in the restraining metal cuffs. He felt bare and vulnerable with his arms tied down and spread like this. In this position, he could not even sit up - his arms were held at such an angle that doing so would surely wrench his shoulders out of place. He twisted his neck to watch Lou swagger out from behind the bed. To his surprise, Lou was completely ignoring him now. It was as if he'd forgotten he was there all together. David watched in bemused silence as the American crouched to reach under the bed, dragging out a small, rectangular black trunk. He could hear the resounding noise of metal locks being undone, and then Lou opened the box, the lid blocking it's contents from David's view. He had no idea what Lou might have inside there. He had the feeling that it would be something pain-inducing.

After a moment of sorting through the trunk's contents, Lou glanced over the top of the lid at David and smiled, just slightly. He rose, holding a pair of leather-and-metal cuffs. David watched as best he could as Lou went around to the other end of the bed, attaching the metal bits to the low footboard, then reaching up to hold down his captive's legs as he strapped the leather tightly around his ankles. David was afraid, but he did not struggle. He wanted to tell himself that he was not struggling because he knew it would be useless, but he knew that was not the case. The fact of the matter was he liked the feeling of being helpless at Lou's mercy. The leather cuffs around his ankles squeezed tight, the metal around his wrists even tighter.

Lou took notice of his obedience. He smiled approvingly. "You learn fast, David," he said, moving back towards the open trunk on the floor. His boots made heavy repercussions even on the carpet; David could feel them rumbling in his bones. "But I'm going to make sure you don't forget." He stooped to draw a long, single-tailed whip of black leather up from the trunk.

David's eyes widened at the sight. This more than anything had him truly frightened. Lou shut the trunk heavily with his boot, shoving it back under the bed. He slid the coiled leather lash through his fingers slowly, twining and untwining it as he paced around the bed. He was unnervingly calm. David stared up at him with a look of unabashed fear in his eyes. There was no point in pretending not to be afraid now. In his mind he could imagine all the soft, vulnerable places where the whip might decide to land, and his skin twitched and tingled at the anticipation. Anticipation was always the worst.

Lou stopped pacing. He was now standing just next to the bed, staring down at David coldly. David trembled again, waiting for the blow he knew would come.

When Lou moved his hand, David flinched automatically, but to his surprise the whip didn't come down on him. Instead Lou folded the whip up on itself, tracing the lash gently across David's face, this time avoiding the dark bruise and touching the creamy skin on the other side. David shuddered at the touch but he dared not pull away.

"You really are a pretty one," Lou said, almost tenderly. It surprised David, and he let his guard down just for a moment, forgetting himself for the look of gentleness in the other man's dark eyes. But even as he did the look was gone, replaced by that featureless coldness, and it was then that Lou chose to strike.

The blow caught David completely by surprise, although, even if he had known when it was going to happen, there would have been nothing he could have done to prepare himself for it. The lash of the whip licked across his exposed belly, a roar of white-hot pain that seemed to explode from the spot in all directions, and a yelp burst from his throat before the agony became so great that he couldn't seem to find his voice anymore and could only writhe in his bonds. He had been wrong before - the anticipation was nothing compared to the real thing. This was much, much worse.

Lou waited patiently for the boy on the bed to calm down. It was clear he was enjoying David's misery, but the evidence did not show on his face. His expression remained unperturbed. He had begun to twine the whip through his fingers again, waiting for David to collect himself.

When the still-searing sting of the lash had begun to subside a bit, David chanced raising his head to have a look at his wounded belly. The whip had not drawn blood, but there was already an angry pink welt forming across the pale skin. He was amazed at just how lovely it really did look against the backdrop of white flesh. He was beginning to understand Lou's fascination with it.

His eyes flicked back to Lou, who was watching him placidly, playing with the thin leather tails at the end of the whip. At the meeting of their gazes, Lou smiled, nodding just slightly to himself. He gave a deep sigh before drawing back the whip again and slashing it across David's thighs.

David did not cry out this time, but he only barely managed to contain himself as pain burst anew into his brain. Had he not seen the whip lash out at him with his own eyes he would have been certain it was fire that had sliced across his legs. He grit his teeth so hard that his jaw ached, particularly where Lou had struck him earlier, but it was easier to concentrate on this pain than the stinging that jangled across his legs and still burned on his stomach.

When he opened his eyes, he found Lou staring down at him with a look of mock-disappointment. "What's the matter, Davey?" he said in all seriousness. "Aren't you going to cry for me anymore? Maybe I'm being too easy on you, hmm?" He drew back the whip again and swiped it down in a swift stroke across David's smooth chest, harder than before.

The leather tail licked viciously across his skin, grazing one tender nipple, and David was not able to hold back a howl of agony this time. The shout echoed through the small room, ending in a nearly inaudible whimper, and a small rivulet of blood trickled forth from his nipple and dripped onto the sheets.

"Mmm," Lou said huskily, smiling sadistically. "That's better." He leaned over David's still-writhing body, licking his tongue across the bloody wound, sucking lightly, and the terribly wonderful mixture of pleasure and pain sent David's mind spiralling into oblivion, if only for a second.

Lou pulled away a moment later, leaving behind cold dampness, licking the last of the blood from his lips. "You really do taste delicious, you know," he told David conversationally. He drew the fingers of his free hand through the soft red hair. "You really ought to know how good you taste." He cracked the whip across the other man's soft belly again, and David did not bother trying to hold back his cries this time, knowing that it was useless anyway. This strike flayed open the flesh in a long thin line where the whip had laid, blood rushing to the surface and pooling in the welt, spilling over, running down the sides of his stomach onto the bedclothes. He could feel the hot wetness of the liquid, and he imagined he could smell it as well, the rusty reek filling his brain, although he thought he had probably only imagined that part. His mind went immediately to the dream he'd had after that first night, of the way the razor had sliced into the delicate skin of his belly, and he could feel himself growing hard at the remembrance, the shame he felt for enjoying the feeling only serving to somehow heighten the pleasure.

After a moment he noticed Lou dabbing his fingers onto the fresh gash, gathering the blood onto his fingertips. He opened his eyes to find Lou holding his now bloodied fingers close to his face, pressing them towards David's lips. "Go ahead," he whispered. "Taste it."

David hesitated, feeling at once intrigued and repulsed. Tentatively he pushed his tongue forth, sliding across the roughened fingertips, the taste of blood coating his tongue for the second time. He felt at once immensely disgusted - not at tasting his own blood, but at realizing how good it tasted.

Lou stared down at him, just a hint of a smile on his face. He drew back his hand, leaning down to kiss the boy slowly. David could taste his own blood on Lou's lips - a sensation that was terribly but undeniably erotic.

"Well, well, my little bitch," Lou spoke slowly when they'd broken the kiss moments later. "I think you've learned your lesson well." He flicked the whip to the left of them, cracking it idly against the floor. "But there's something else you have to do for me."

David could only imagine what it might be. He was scared, but at the same time he secretly hoped it would be something painful. Something that would fill him that that delicious shame again.

Lou started to go to the end of the bed, but changed his mind and came back up to David's side. He held the handle of the whip up to David's face. "You can hold this for me," he said curtly, with a sly sort of smile. "I trust you."

David took the whip into his mouth, his tongue curling around the handle. It was wooden but covered with leather for grip, accented with small brass studs. He could taste the salty flavour of brine on the leather, run through with the bitter taste of the brass. His teeth clamped down on the leather slightly, betraying his fear, despite evidence between his legs that hinted otherwise.

Lou patted David on the head then marched down to the footboard, crouching down to unfasten the ankle cuffs. David could hear the clinking of chains and buckles, seeming strangely loud in his ears. When Lou had finished this, he came back around to the headboard, plucking a small silver key from atop a small bookcase just right of the bed. David couldn't see him now, but a moment later he heard a click and felt the cool metal of the cuffs leave his wrists. He drew his arms down into himself warily, meekly sitting up. He wanted to take the whip out of his mouth but he dared not. Lou moved in front of him again, watching him with unwavering dark eyes that gave away nothing.

After a long moment Lou extended his hand, palm up. "Give it to me," he commanded, indicating the whip. David started to take it from his mouth but Lou slapped his hand away. "Not with your hands," he said firmly. David stretched his neck forward, carefully dropping the handle of the whip into Lou's hand.

Lou seemed satisfied with his servant's behaviour. He wrapped his fingers around the handle, moving the whip back a bit, where it seemed slightly less threatening - but only slightly. "Good," he said. "Now: on your knees." He pointed with his free hand to the floor in front of him.

By this time, David had managed to push his prior reluctance to the back of his mind. He was too caught up in the pleasure of this agony, this humiliation. If his mind came too close to facing the truth - that he had truly become Lou's bitch, the very thing he had sworn he would never do for anyone only the week before - then he would simply force himself to think of that blind animal euphoria that raced up his spine each time the whip had cracked across his flesh, and the feeling that still remained as he felt the blood from the gash on his stomach running onto his thighs. He crawled submissively onto the floor, crouching there on his knees.

It was then, kneeling there before his master, that David realized why Lou had kept the boots on.

Lou seemed to know the exact moment when David realized what was in store for him. He laughed quietly, throatily, and shoved one boot in David's face. "Go on," Lou said slowly. "Lick it."

Up close, David could see every detail of the leather straps, the glittering silver buckles, the tight black stitching. He could smell the leather, too, heady and distinct. The laced teeth of the zipper glinted in the light. He hated himself for it, but he realized he wanted to lick it. He wanted the taste of that slick black leather in his mouth, to feel the sensation of cold metal buckles against his lips, the sharp edges of the zipper clinking against his teeth. He closed his eyes, bent his head low. The smooth leather brushed against his lips, startlingly similar to a lover's caress. His breath was heavy, rasping loudly in his ears. He slid his tongue between his lips, dragging in tentatively across the boot.

"Again," Lou commanded.

David swallowed, the taste of the leather sliding down the back of his throat. He licked again, his tongue drawing across the end of the boot, brushing the buckle. The metallic taste was bitter but delicious on his tongue, like a new penny, sharp and biting. He did not stop at one this time. He lapped at the smooth leather straps, feeling the tiny holes, the rough stitches. "That's right," Lou said slowly above him. "Good boy."

Something slithered across his back and David twitched, turning his head to see what it was. He realized it was the whip - Lou was dragging the end of it languorously across his back, tickling the skin there. When he saw David had stopped his service on the boots, though, he gave him a quick, sharp cuff with the folded edge of it across his lower back. "I didn't say you could stop, bitch," he snapped.

David whimpered, although it hadn't really hurt. He lowered his head again, almost as if he was bowing, and slaked his tongue up the front of the boot. This time his tongue touched against the pale bare skin of Lou's leg just above the top of the boot, brushing the glinting zipper as he did, and a tremble of pleasure and anticipation passed through his bones at the combined taste.

"Oh, David," Lou sighed, stroking the whip down the other man's back in a bizarrely affectionate manner. "You love to feel bad, don't you?"

David shut his eyes. The doubt was creeping back into him.

"Answer me!" Lou barked, surprising him.

"Yes..." David whispered, barely audible.

Lou smiled. "That's my boy." Abruptly he seized David's hair, twisting it into a knot around his fingers and jerking the boy's head back. David stared up at him fearfully, an expression that was not put on, but Lou did not seem angry despite his roughness. "That's enough for tonight," he said softly, and released his sharp grip to play with the strands of hair.

David dropped his head in a manner that resembled a servant before his master, something that was unintentional but eerily fitting. The shame was making it's way back into the forefront of his mind, spreading through his blood like a virus, infecting every bone and tissue. Not shame for what he had done, but shame because he knew that, in his heart, he had liked it.

Suddenly he realized the dampened black boot was no longer occupying the space in front of his bent head. He looked up and saw Lou across from him, heading for the bedroom door. "Where are you going?" he blurted out, immediately regretting the words even as they left his lips, partly because he realized Lou might thrash him again for speaking but more because he realized he didn't want the man to leave.

Lou turned and glanced over his shoulder contemptuously. "Why should I stay?" he sneered. "I'm done with you."

The statement cut David deeper than he would have liked to admit. But there was something about the tone of Lou's words that made him think that this was only another game. What frightened him was that he was having a hard time distinguishing between what was play and what was reality.

"What?" Lou snapped. "You want me to stay? Is that it?" He laughed, low and throaty, a mocking sound that chilled David's spine.

"Yes," David said meekly, facing the floor. Was it just fear of the lash speaking? Or did he really want Lou to come back, force him to his knees, lay the cruel leather strap across his back? Perhaps a bit of both.

Lou smirked knowingly, leaning in the doorway for a long moment. Finally he swaggered over to the crouching man, trailing the whip alongside him in an almost feminine way, a deadly Venus. He stopped in front of David, looping one finger through his collar, jerking his head up again to face him. He leaned in, so close that David could make out each dark eyelash inside the frame of smudged black eye shadow. "Beg me," Lou said simply, his words falling hot and wet against David's mouth.

David's heart seemed to tremble within him at the familiar words. His mouth felt suddenly dry, his voice hidden somewhere beneath the scratchy sands in his throat. Lou's finger held the collar taught, the metal buckles digging into the back of his neck. "Please..." he whispered, and the sound surprised him, as if he was not sure it had come from his own throat.

Lou scoffed. "You can do better than that."

"Please," David repeated, a bit louder, although still only above a whisper. He could feel his face burn as he said it and he wished he could drop his head to disguise it.

Thankfully Lou did not push the issue. "Very well," he said curtly, almost primly. He relinquished his grip on David's collar then cracked the whip skilfully against the floor to the right of the man. "On your knees, bitch," he snarled, gesturing to the space in front of the bed.

David slunk lowly over to the spot on all fours, his heart pounding, echoing in his ears. He was afraid - undeniably so - but he did not want this to stop.

A soft clicking sound behind him startled David, betraying his nervousness, but he realized then that it was only the sound of the lid of a Vaseline jar being popped off. He glanced over his shoulder just slightly, and saw Lou had discarded the whip on the floor - still within reach, though, should he need to use it. It surprised David slightly to realize that he hoped Lou would use it, and he turned his face away from the sight once more.

Slick fingers caressed him then, and his breath caught in his throat as he felt the heat of Lou's hard cock pressing against his ass. Lou was no kinder in this than in his previous punishments, entering him with such roughness that it brought a jolt of pain despite the lubrication. David whimpered at this, dropping his head, but Lou gripped the leather collar and tugged him back, the band squeezing into his throat and nearly cutting off his breath. Lou's slick fingers were stroking across his cock even as he did this, and the divine helplessness of being near breathless at his master’s mercy only served to heighten his arousal.

Lou tugged roughly at the collar in time with each movement of his hips, the leather digging into the sensitive flesh of David's throat even as Lou's hands and cock touched in places that sent jolts of pleasure up his back, until it was impossible to tell where the pain ended and the pleasure began - they had become so intricately twined they were indistinguishable, one and the same. He realized then that this was like his dream - crouching here on his hands and knees on the floor, blood running down his belly and between his thighs, Lou's body on top of him, crushing him, riding him like a beast of burden, the smell of leather and blood and sex overwhelming his senses. He climaxed at that moment, whether from the memory of the dream or the harsh reality it had become he could not be sure. Vaguely he felt that pleasant heat as Lou came deep inside him, but his mind was too lost in the tide of orgasm to pay him much attention at the moment.

After a long spell of quiet they finally parted, David remaining crouched on the floor with his head bent nearly to touch the carpet, breathing heavy and low. Lou touched David's shoulder lightly, making the redhead jump, but there was no lash waiting for him this time. Lou's amusement at his fright was clear, though - the dark look behind his eyes was tell-tale, the balefulness about his almost-smile undeniable. He looped a finger through the ring on the collar, not tugging this time but instead gently leading his captive towards the bed. David followed without a fight, wary but not unwilling.

When they fell together on the bed once again, Lou took David's thin frame into his arms with surprising gentleness which might have been comforting if it hadn't been for a certain possessiveness about the embrace. David could feel Lou's mouth on his throat, teeth grazing his collar bone, scraping up his neck. "My pet," Lou murmured, the words falling softly against David's ear.

They remained this way for several more minutes before Lou's breathing grew slow and even, indicating he was asleep. David, however, remained awake despite the weariness imbedded deep in his bones. Now, lying here in the darkness with his eyes fixed to the ceiling, there was nothing left to do but think. He never would have imagined himself in this position - now that he was here, it was no longer some sense of pride that held that phantom doubt in his mind. No, it was something far more... sinister than that. He had really been afraid that night. He could not deny that he had enjoyed that fear - he had proof enough of that. But what had him truly worried was that he was not entirely sure that this game as Lou called it was really that at all. The still-bleeding wounds on his stomach lent credence to that. Whatever this game was, he had the feeling that it was far more dangerous than he had first imagined.

Just what was the difference between fantasy and reality? Where did he draw that line?