Date: Thu, 2 Jan 2003 20:40:54 -0800 (PST)
From: B B <bondedboy13@yahoo.com>
Subject: Saving Sebastian, parts 11 and 12

The following story is a work of complete fiction, dreamed up in my own
twisted little mind.  I invented Lance and Sebastian, and any resemblance
they might have to real people is purely coincidental.  If you're
uncomfortable with themes of consensual, loving bondage,
domination/submission, or humiliation and training between two young men,
please stop reading here.  Everyone else, enjoy!

Thanks to TL for encouragement and ideas.

Comments are welcomed, adored, and lovingly spanked and petted at
bondedboy13@yahoo.com.



Part Eleven: Visit

The hardest part of all of this, besides having to adapt to a whole new
lifestyle, is learning to read Sebastian even when he doesn't want me to.
When he's acting up, for example, I've got to be able to tell if it's
because he's genuinely scared, or pushing me to punish him, or if he's just
being pissy and difficult.  When he's docile and sweet, I want to know if
it's because he's tired, or if he wants something from me, or if he's
honestly being a good boy.  I've got to tailor my reactions to his motives,
not just his actions, or I won't be doing my job.  It's tricky, and it
scares me every day that I might misread him on something really big and
hurt him.  Not in the good way.

When his narrowed eyes and tense shoulders let me know he was cranky on
Friday morning, I paused and considered for a moment as he wormed out of
his bed and struggled to stand, his hands bound to his collar with short
straps.  He'd started to get horny again the evening before, and though
he'd been incredibly good about not touching himself, I hadn't trusted his
sleeping hands, and had cuffed them out of temptation's way.  It couldn't
have been a comfortable way to sleep, and he looked stiff, but this went
deeper than that.  He was worried about this afternoon, I was pretty sure,
and I wasn't going to punish him for that.  I was kind of worried myself,
to tell the truth.

"Morning, sweetie."  I kept my voice gentle, no trace of censure, though he
was still scowling and trying to stretch, his cock bobbing half-hard
against his thighs as he finally stood straight.  "Let's get you out of
that."  He grunted, and came to my side, bending to have his hands
released.  When they were free, he shook out his wrists, one hand straying
towards his groin before jerking back.  He scowled harder, but I could see
the nerves underneath, the uncertainty about being *us* with other people
around.  I reached out and stroked his hip gently.

"Go get the hairbrush and the small ball gag, please, Sebastian."  He
jerked and looked at me, wide-eyed and awake suddenly.  "You haven't been
bad, baby.  This is just to help us calm down for later, okay?  Now, Seb."

"Yes sir."  His slightly hoarse morning voice always makes me smile, and he
took himself off to get the gear.  My own cock twitched and stirred as I
watched his naked backside, the end of the large plug visible between his
cheeks, and he couldn't get back soon enough to suit me.  He was still
sulky when he returned, holding the hairbrush and gag, his cock at full
attention.

"I don't need to calm down for later," he protested, walking to me
reluctantly.  "I'm calm, I'm fine!  I need to come, but I'm fine."

"If you're fine, then what's that nasty expression on your face?"  It was
hard to hold in my grin when his face went through a comical set of
contortions, as he tried to look calm and content.  I reached for his hips
and pulled him between my knees, and he came without protest, letting me
draw him close to me with a sigh.  "You know I love you, and if something's
bothering you you need to tell me.  Talk to me."

"I just..." he sighed again, and relaxed a little under my hands.  "I want
to be good when the guys are here, I do.  I want them to see how...how
different things are now.  But I'm afraid I won't be able to, if you're not
there, if we're not alone.  I don't think I can do it yet.  And I don't
want them to know that you're...we're...what we are.  But how can we hide
it?"  His voice was small and uncertain, his eyes on the ground.

I ran my hands down his thighs, then back up, stroking the smooth-shaven
pale skin, watching him shiver under my touch, and then pinched him
lightly, bringing his eyes up to my face.  "This is like your first little
test.  And I bet you're going to ace parts of it, and probably not do too
great on other parts.  But that's okay."

He snorted a little.  "Yeah, but you're not going to be the one getting his
bottom beat for the parts he screws up."

"I'm not being tested here," I reminded him, warningly.  "Or if I am, it's
on how well I've managed to teach you to behave, so far.  Believe me, it's
important to me that you do well.  I want the support of the other guys as
much as you do, even though I don't think they're ready to hear details
about us.  It's going to be clear to them that things are a little
different, and that's okay.  But what you need to worry about is minding
your manners, and obeying your rules, and making me proud of you.  I'll
manage to let you know if you're starting to do something that'll get you
punished later."

He groaned, and leaned against my body, his body still sleep-warm and a
little sweaty.  "I bet *that'll* happen a lot.  What are we doing this
morning, though?"  I let him change the subject, knowing that talking about
it more would just increase his nerves.

"I've got to go to the store this afternoon, pick up a few things for
tonight.  *You* need to do your chores, and your voice exercises, and call
your mom."

"You're leaving me here by myself?"  He stood up straight again, staring at
me in disbelief.  "Really?"

I raised my eyebrows at him, grinning a little.  "You're a big boy,
Sebastian.  I think you can stay home by yourself for a couple of hours.
But I want you to tell me honestly...do you need your belt?"

He chewed his lip, staring at me, his hands drifting protectively towards
his crotch again.  I slapped one when it got too close to his stiff cock,
and he jumped.  Finally, reluctantly, he nodded.  I nodded back.

"Thank you for your honesty."

"Can I tell you something weird?"  His voice was uncertain, and I nodded
again.  "I...I missed it.  It was SO hard, not touching myself last night
when we were watching the movie.  I couldn't think about anything else, and
my penis was just aching, and it was even worse than having the belt on,
having to stop myself from touching."  He fretted, frowning a little,
confused by his own desire for something he'd started out hating so much.

"But you did it, and I was very proud."  He smiled then, clearly pleased
with my praise.  "That's the point.  Last week, could you have stopped
yourself?"  He shook his head definitely.

"No, I don't even think I would have tried.  But...but I didn't want you to
be disappointed in me, last night."

"See?  You're getting more and more control every day, and for the right
reasons.  That's excellent, and I think it deserves a reward."  His whole
face lit up with eagerness.

"What kind of reward?  Can I have my X-Box back?"

I laughed, hard, leaning my forehead against his belly until I could get my
breath back again.  "No, no," I finally got out.  "No, I said a month and I
meant a month.  I was thinking more along the lines of a nice orgasm."

His eyes went wide, instantly.  "A real one?  With...like normal, with
spurting and everything?"

"Yeah."  I started pulling him down a little, wanting him on his knees, and
he went easily.  I reached for the gag.  "You can come while I'm spanking
you today, whenever you want.  I'm going to paddle you hard, Seb; you won't
be punished again today until after the guys leave, so this is going to be
a reminder for you."

His eyes narrowed at me again, but the flush of the promised orgasm was
still making him shine with excitement, and he opened his mouth obediently
enough for the ball gag.  It was small; Seb's livelihood is his voice, his
mouth, and that restricts me in the kinds of toys and the sizes I can use
on him.  His jaw still worked uncomfortably around it, and I strapped it
tight at the back of his head.

"How's it feel?"  He tried to answer, made a muffled grunt, and glared at
me when I couldn't help grinning at him.  "Really, you don't say."  He
glared harder.  "Oh, very scary, yes.  Across my knees, up you get."

Trepidation flashed in his eyes for the first time, and he slowly got up
and draped himself across my lap.  I pressed a fist to the soft place above
his balls until his legs spread to my satisfaction, and took a moment to
play with the plug, sliding it out of him until his little hole stretched
obscenely around the widest part, then shoving it back in against his
prostate.  He squeaked and groaned, all sounds quieter than I was used to,
and squirmed frantically on my lap, his knees jerking inward as he fought
to escape the torment of the plug.  "Remember, you can come whenever you
want," I reminded him, reaching for the wooden hairbrush.  "If you do it
too soon, I doubt the rest of your strokes will be very fun for you, so you
might want to keep that in mind."  He growled into the gag, and I smiled
when I guessed he'd realized that I'd put the responsibility for
self-control directly into his lap.

"You don't have to count this time," I added as an afterthought, and
something suspiciously like a snort came from around my ankle.  My first
smack came without warning, then, and harder than I'd actually intended,
though the result was delightful.  Even through the gag, his surprised
shriek was clear, and he straightened convulsively, legs kicking out behind
him.  I kept that same firmness for the first ten strokes, then ten
lighter, alternating cheeks, watching them turn a deep rose color as the
wooden brush brought the blood to the surface of pale skin.  The next ten
were just as hard as the first, and somewhere in the midst of them, his
hips curled and humped against me frantically, the burning heat of his cock
rigid on my thigh.  Gushes of hot wetness spread down my leg immediately
and he shuddered weakly, squealing through his nose as I brought the brush
cracking down on his ass, getting both cheeks and his tender inner skin all
at once.  The final ten strokes were vicious, falling in a flurry as I
panted and barely kept *myself* from coming.  He was jerking with every
blow, now trying to evade the blows instead of meet them, when I stopped
abruptly after the fortieth smack, letting the brush fall as he slumped.

We were still and quiet for a moment, the only sound in the room our harsh
breath, until I urged him back to the floor with gentle hands, reaching for
the gag.  His face was red and wet with tears but calm and very happy, his
big eyes searching my face for the smile I gave him.  I unbuckled the gag;
as something he truly hates, I only use it when he needs reminding, like
today, or when he can't be trusted to stay silent, or when he's been
honestly, inexcusably bad.  I'd hate for it to lose its effectiveness.  He
cracked his jaw gratefully, and smiled at me.

"Thank you, sir.  THANK you.  That was..."  He shook his head, looking
awed.  "Wow."

I stroked his cheek, kissed his mouth, then pushed his head to my leg.
"Clean up your mess, honey.  You're welcome."

He wrinkled that cute little nose as he looked at the trail of cum he'd
left on my thigh and calf, but he was still floating high on a joybuzz and
endorphins and not willing to put up a fuss.  He stretched out his tongue
and started with little catlike licks, but got into it soon enough, and I
was getting a proper tongue bath.  I masturbated lazily, watching him lick
his semen off my skin, feeling the pleasurable heat of orgasm build in my
groin and balls and cock.  When it swelled up I let it come, pumping my cum
over his head and neck and shoulders.  He jumped, shocked, and I shivered
at the sight, creamy runners of spunk glistening even whiter than his skin,
and he bowed his head as I spurted again and again, hot pleasure shooting
up my spine to my brain, making me gasp.

"Fuck, yeah," I moaned, holding my cock as the last shudders made me
momentarily weak.  Sebastian, after his first surprise, kept licking me as
I came, and his tongue was worshipping my now-clean skin.  I reached out
and grabbed his hair, pulling his face to my crotch gently, letting him
nose around down there for his own comfort as much as mine.  He let out a
deep shuddering sigh and relaxed, finally and completely, his nose and lips
tucked against my heavy sac, shoulders curled against my leg and the bed.
I stroked his hair absently, letting my eyes fall closed, the peace of the
moment seeping into my heart.

"You smell good," he said softly, after a long time.  His breath was a warm
buzzing tickle on my most sensitive skin, and I laughed a little and
squirmed.  "You do!" he insisted indignantly, breathing deep as if to prove
his point, nose buried in the hot dampness under my balls.

"Well, that makes one of us," I teased, grinning down at him as he stuck
out his tongue at me.  "I know a certain boy who needs a shower."

"Yeah, well, who came all over me?"  His eyes were shining, no trace of the
sullenness he'd had on waking, and I thumbed his nose.  "I really don't
think you can blame me for that, sir."

"Who's blaming you?  I'm just saying you're so sexy I couldn't help myself.
And Sebastian...it's time to start calling me Lance again."

He nodded hesitantly, mouthing the word-Lance, Lance-over and over, like
he'd just learned it for the first time.  He had to learn to separate
public from private completely; I wasn't naïve enough to think that Seb
deferring to me with a non-joking "yes sir" would go unremarked in public.
"It feels strange," he said finally, getting to his feet at my urging.
"Like I'm being disrespectful."

"Think of it as being obedient," I suggested, taking his hand as we headed
for the shower.  "I want you to call me Lance whenever there's anyone
around, and sir when we're in private.  It's just another rule, sweetie."

"I'm gonna forget," he predicted direly. But then he perked right back up
again.  "But then you'll have to punish me!  And that's a forgetting thing,
not a being-bad thing, so I'll only get the cat or the paddle.  That'll be
cool."

I'm pretty sure I didn't stop laughing until the shower was over, even
though I had to wonder if I was already getting predictable.  Sebastian was
in a playful mood too, splashing water at me and then yelping with pained
joy when I swatted his rosy butt, dancing out of reach and teasing me.  We
ignored our cocks and just goofed off for once, splashing and tickling and
wrestling, though his hands when he washed me were as careful and reverent
as ever, and he kissed me sweetly before getting our towels.  He even
brought me the belt, though his hands were shaking noticeably, and he
looked at it with a strange mixture of affection and disgust.  That same
old split: part of him wanted to be good and obedient and loved everything
that helped him towards that goal, while the other part wanted free rein to
do as he pleased, and detested anything that controlled him.  I strapped
him in gently, and let him stand and pant and shake and sweat for a few
long moments as he readjusted to being effectively castrated, if only
temporarily.  He was pale but composed when I kissed him goodbye and headed
out the door.  I saw his shadow by the window as I got into the car.

It was strange, leaving him alone like that.  We'd been joined at the
hip-or my cock-for so many days now, it almost felt like I'd left part of
me behind.  But at the same time, I took a moment to stretch luxuriously
and close my eyes and rub the back of my neck, once I was in the car alone.
I hadn't realized how stressed I'd been, too busy paying attention to
Sebastian.  I didn't go into this with any illusions that he would be easy,
or that it would be all fun and games, but I hadn't been expecting this
constant vigilance and expenditure of energy.  And in return, I was getting
mostly resistance and argument.  But those flashes of surrender, the
moments of sweetness and obedience and calm, I reminded myself...those were
so incredible they made it all worthwhile.  I headed out for my errands
with a smile on my face.

The whole time I was gone I worried about my boy, which was ridiculous, and
I knew it.  He'd been living on his own for years now, he was perfectly
capable of minding himself for two hours.  But I couldn't stop fretting, no
matter how sternly I told myself to relax, and by the end of my shopping
trip, I was literally rolling my eyes at myself.  I needed to stay a little
more detached than this, I knew, or he'd have me jumping to his beck and
call even more than he already did.  Clearly, Seb wasn't the only one in
need of some occasional downtime.

He didn't greet me at the door, which was a little disappointing, but I
could hear just a thread of his voice from the direction of the practice
room, and smiled to myself.  I made my way there, and peeked in, expecting
to see him wearing clothes-I'd given him permission, while he was doing his
chores-and standing by the microphone stand.

He was standing, all right.  He had put on his heaviest cuffs and collar,
the unforgivingly heavy steel and leather set, and the sharpest, most
vicious nipple clamps we had, but the rest of him was bare.  He had one
foot up on a chair, his body was twisted sideways with his hair falling
into his eyes, and he was working away at one of the locks on his chastity
belt with a small screwdriver.  He was singing while he did it, which lent
the whole scene an air of total surrealism.

"What are you DOING?"  I was more stunned than angry, really.  I couldn't
figure out what the hell was going on.

He jumped and spun in the same movement, the screwdriver falling from his
hand, his face flushing a deep, guilty red.  "Hi Lance," he squeaked, then
cleared his throat.  "Hi.  Um.  It's later than I thought, isn't it."

"I'd think so, probably, yeah."  I took a step towards him, eyes sweeping
his body.  The belt was still firmly, immovably in place.  It didn't even
look like he'd managed to loosen it.  "I think you should explain yourself,
and you'd better talk damned quick."

He nodded eagerly, gulped.  "Well.  I did all my chores-all of them!-and I
was thinking, and thought, what if someday I'm in the belt and there's an
emergency!"

"An emergency that requires you to have an erect cock?"  I raised an
eyebrow at him, and he squirmed, going even more purple.

"No.  Yes.  Possibly, I don't know, but that's not the point!  The point
is, would I be able to get out of it.  And the answer is clearly no, right?
So that's good to know."  He clasped his hands in front of him and looked
at me pleadingly.

I put my hands to my head, shaking it back and forth.  "Sebastian..."  My
voice sounded tired, even to me.  "Are you even trying, here?  Are you
making an *attempt* to be good, even a small one?  Because if you are, I
can't see it.  I can't be your babysitter, I can't be with you every moment
of every day.  I am your master, I will guide you and help you and
discipline you, but you've got to *try*, and take some responsibility
yourself, or this won't work."

He was crouched at my feet, quivering, in an instant.  "I'm sorry," he
whispered achingly.  "I knew I was being bad, so I put on the cuffs I don't
like, see?  And the clamps, because I knew I deserved it.  But I had to
try, Lance, I had to see if I could get out of it.  Knowing that I
can't...it makes it easier.  I can accept it now, instead of fighting it or
trying to pry it off when you aren't looking."  His eyes pleaded with me
for understanding, and I nodded at him.

"I get it, Seb, I understand.  But that doesn't change the fact that you
did it without permission, without my approval.  If you'd come to me and
told me what you just said, I would have given you the screwdriver and let
you have a try at it.  Instead, you went behind my back.  If I hadn't
caught you, were you going to tell me?"

"I think so," he mumbled, eyes swimming, hands twisting in the fabric of my
pants.  "I was planning to, but I might not have, I don't know.  I'm so
sorry."

"It's okay," I sighed, finally touching his hair.  "I know it takes a while
to build the kind of trust we need to have.  Next time...come to me, okay?
When you get one of these impulses?"

He nodded frantically.  "I trust you, I do.  I'll know better next time.
Does...does this mean I won't be punished for this?"  He couldn't keep the
hope and disappointment out of his voice, and I pinched his chin and drew
him to his feet.

"I'll have to think about it."  His face fell, and I smiled.  "Go get those
things off, and I never want to see you playing with the toys again unless
I'm here, you understand me?  It could be very dangerous, Seb.  I want your
word."  I looked at him sternly, and he dipped his head, obviously
chastened.

"Yes sir.  I promise."

I reached out and yanked the clamps off his nipples, barely opening them
first, and he howled and danced back and forth on his feet, as I watched
returning blood turn the little nubs an angry, inflamed red.  "Good," I
said calmly, over the noise he was making.  "Now.  Out of your cuffs and
collar and belt, and go get clothes on.  You've got the afternoon off, I
want you to just settle into remembering how to be when there are other
people around.  You can pretend I'm not your master if you want; your
manners still apply, but I want *you* to be in charge of your behavior for
a little while."  If he didn't start internalizing this soon, I was going
to burn out long before he was ever truly mastered.

He glanced up at me nervously.  "You mean...I can play X-box?  And swear?
And go take a nap, if I want?"

I shrugged.  "Sure.  Whatever you want.  I advise you to move your bed
somewhere out of the way, so the guys don't think we're keeping a dog
hidden around here.  And don't forget to lock the playroom."  I forced my
tone to absolute disinterest as I unlocked his belt and stripped it off
him.  He looked increasingly nervous, and his cock didn't even twitch.
Well, he had come earlier, after all, but still, that was telling.

"I'm going to go take a nap.  And jerk off.  In your bed."  He sounded
almost scared, and looked at me expectantly.  I shrugged again.

"Whatever.  Don't forget to take your plug out and wipe up before you get
dressed."  As I left the room, the look of shock on his face etched itself
into my memory.

I spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon transferring all my
accounting to my bookkeeper, including my investments and household
accounts.  Sebastian was taking up too much of my attention for me to be
able to keep up with this, and I didn't want anything to slip.  Also, I
figured I'd be needing a vacation soon enough; the only question was, would
Seb be coming with me or not?  I grinned to myself and made a note to check
online, to see if there were any "scene friendly" vacation ideas floating
around out there.  It might be nice to get away to the house.  Meet other
people living like us, and maybe--the thought both troubled and thrilled
me--hand Sebastian over to someone a little more experienced, for some
supplemental training.

I finished the books, and warmed up my fingers and guitar in anticipation
of the practice later that night, aware the whole time of Sebastian
drifting around in my peripheral awareness.  He'd put on the cream
turtleneck and dark jeans that he'd worn over his gear when we went to
Ben's, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out if that meant something
or not.  He wandered by the door of the study and then the practice room a
lot more times than a random walking pattern would account for.  At one
point I could hear him clattering around in the kitchen, and then the TV
came on obnoxiously loud, followed by Sebastian's voice shouting swear
words; I just closed the door and ignored it.  Soon the sound went down,
and I could hear his footsteps in the hall.

"Lance?"

"Yeah, Seb?"  Casual casual, like I didn't miss his naked collared body at
my knee as I worked.

"I'm going for a walk."  Almost, not quite, asking permission.

"Cool."  Disinterest.  There was a long pause, I could almost see him
fidgeting outside the door, and then the footsteps retreated, punctuated by
a muttered "shit."  I dropped my aching head to the desk with a thump.

Fortunately, the newest numbers from our tour manager had finally come in,
and that distracted me until I realized that it was time think about
getting ready for the guys.  I shut down the computer, stretched, and
walked through the door-

And almost tripped over Sebastian.  He was kneeling motionlessly in the
hallway, completely naked, with his collar and cuffs and chastity belt laid
carefully on the floor in front of him.  The heavy leather strap was lying
neatly next to them, and his largest, cruelest plug.  I stood and stared
for a moment, and he didn't move a muscle.

"Sebastian?"  I invited him to talk, to explain.

"Master," he murmured quietly, his eyes on the floor, his body a perfect
pale curve against the dark hardwood.  "Please don't leave me alone."

I bent down and picked up the strap, swishing it through the air, my head
spinning.  He didn't flinch away from the arc, even when it came close to
him.  "Convince me," I offered, wanting to hear his thoughts.

"I'll try harder," he said quickly, desperately, never moving a muscle.
"Please put my collar and belt and plug back on me, make me yours again.
Please.  I need you so much.  Please beat me and fuck me hard, punish me
for making you think I didn't want this, or trust you.  Please, sir."  He
finally raised his eyes to mine, and they were swimming with tears.
"Please hurt me very badly for that."

I was silent for a moment, swinging the strap back and forth, looking at
him.  Such incredible beauty at my feet, but was his lesson learned?  I
thought not, but at least it was a step in the right direction.  I dropped
the strap and grabbed the collar, slipping it around his neck and fastening
it with gentle hands.  As it clicked into place, a huge shuddering sigh of
relief escaped him, and he relaxed.

"I'm not going to hurt you, not right now," I told him, and he mewed in
disappointment.  "The guys will be here in an hour, and I think it would be
a little hard to explain your raw ass to them.  I'll think about it,
though, and I want you to as well.  We'll talk about it tonight."  He
nodded reluctantly.  He's always hated it when I postpone punishment.
"Now, go put these things away, and lock the room.  Dress yourself.  Then
come back down, we've got to get the amps set up for the practice."  I
raised him to his feet, and he stood gracefully at my lightest touch.

"Thank you, sir."  He bowed a little, and smiled at me tentatively.  I
couldn't help but smile back.  He charms me just by breathing, Sebastian
does.

***

When the doorbell rang, I had to check my watch.  Half an hour early, and
none of these guys were known for being particularly prompt.  Fortunately,
Sebastian had finished his preparations a while ago; the last time I'd seen
him he'd been wearing jeans and a tight black t-shirt, and the slim, plain
leather collar that he'd begged to be allowed to keep on.  Given some of
the stuff he'd worn on stage before, it was completely innocuous, so I gave
him permission.

When I opened the door, I was more surprised than I should have been to see
Adam standing on the step.  After all, Seb had told me that he suspected
something was going on, and I should have known he'd take this chance to
check up on both of us.  He grabbed me in a hug, though his smile was more
wary than was usual for him.

Adam's a big guy, well over six feet and built like a linebacker, blond and
blue-eyed and with a broad, kind, handsome face.  He's sweet, but he can
defend himself; of all of us, he'd been the target of Seb's tantrums the
least.  He's also very protective of the band and all his friends, and I
kicked myself for not realizing he'd be here as soon as he could.

"Lance, man."  He slapped my back once, then held me away from him,
watching me with shrewd eyes.  "Long time."

"Too long."  I grinned at him, thrilled to see him, and pulled him into the
entryway, kicking the door closed behind me.  I could hear the thunder of
Seb's feet coming down the stairs.  "It's fantastic to see you.  You're
here early, though, I wasn't aware hell had frozen over yet."

That got a laugh out of Adam, and he relaxed a little.  His lateness is
legendary.  "Yeah.  I just wanted to say hey, you know, without the other
guys here.  I talked to Seb last week, and it sounded like you all had
something going on here.  You two are my brothers, you know that, so I just
wanted to make sure things were straight with you."

"I can pretty much guarantee that nothing whatsoever is straight with us,"
I said, snickering, and he flushed and thumped my shoulder.

"Ha fucking ha, funnyman.  You know what I mean."

"Yeah."  I sobered up a little, and nodded at him.  "Things are really
good.  For both of us."  As if in punctuation, Sebastian skidded around the
corner on his sock-clad feet, and basically hurled himself at Adam,
whooping at the top of his lungs.  Adam, used to Seb as he is, just braced
and caught him, laughing with what looked like relief.  After a huge
squeeze, he set my boy down carefully, and Sebastian stepped back to my
side.

"Okay, okay, I believe you.  Whatever it is, it's good.  Only have to look
at our bouncing baby boy here to know it."  He grinned at Sebastian, who
yelped in protest.  "But what the hell is it?  I'd say you were in a cult,
but I know you're smarter than that, Lance.  And..."  he trailed off,
clearly unwilling to guess, but demanding an answer.

I looked at him carefully, mind racing with my options.  Adam was both
intelligent and open minded, the first person I'd come out to way back when
we were getting the band together, and I trusted him completely.  The
question was, could he handle this?  He looked back at me, ready to hear
and accept and understand, and my decision was made.

"Sebastian."  I used that special tone and touched his shoulder lightly,
and Sebastian, still hypersensitive from what we'd been through before,
slipped gracefully and instantly to his knees at my side.  His feet tucked
underneath him, head bowed, hands folded quietly on his thighs, he was the
picture of complete submission and obedience.  "Good boy," I murmured, and
watched Adam's eyes flare wide with shock.  This was the moment of truth.

"Fuuuuck."  It was a long drawn-out exclamation of disbelief, and he stared
from me, to Sebastian, and back to me.  "What the...I figured it was
something like this, but...Seb?"

"You can answer," I told him gently, and Adam's startled eyes locked on me,
even as Sebastian lifted his head with a beautiful smile.

"I'm okay," he assured Adam earnestly.  "I'm SO okay, Adam, this is my
choice, it's what I want.  Lance is just helping me.  Not *just*, I mean,
he's the reason it works, but...it's good.  It's wonderful.  Please be
happy for me."

Adam was still staring, and he ran a distracted hand through his hair,
silent for a long moment.  "I think I need a beer," he finally muttered,
shaking his head.  "And I want to talk to Sebastian alone."  I nodded
understanding, brushed Seb's hair with my hand, and went to get the beer.
I took a long time, dawdling in the kitchen, ignoring the low hum of voices
as they talked, but when I heard Sebastian giggle, I figured it was okay to
rejoin them.  They'd moved to the living room, and were sitting on the
couch; I handed Adam a beer, and Sebastian a bottled water, and took a long
swallow of my own beer, hoping to ease the tight knot of tension in my
stomach.

"Fuck," Adam said again, still looking a bit stunned, but much more
relaxed.  "Okay, I think I get it.  But never, ever tell me details of
y'all's love life, you understand?  I just do not want to know."

"Oh, sure," Seb teased, grinning at him, and then beaming at me as I kissed
him quickly before sitting down.  "You know you want to hear about-"

"No no!"  Adam held up a warning hand.  "I mean it.  Sherry-you guys
remember Sherry?  We dated for a couple months like a year ago?  She liked
being spanked and blindfolded, and that was pretty cool, but I think-I
KNOW-this is quite a bit more than that.  As long as it works for you and
you're both happy, I'll support you, but I do NOT want to know."  He was
grinning as he said it, but I think we could both tell he meant it.

"Okay," I nodded, relief washing through me.  Adam was an ally, then,
someone we didn't have to hide entirely from.  Something I knew we'd need
desperately on the road.  "No details, you got it."

"Oh!"  Sebastian jumped up as the doorbell rang again, and raced for the
door excitedly.  I chuckled and drank more of my beer, truly relaxing for
the first time in a long while.  Adam was watching me closely, and finally
smiled.

"I haven't seen him this happy since his dad died," he said briefly.
"You're doing good, man."

"Yeah?"  I tugged on a curl of my own hair, embarrassed and grinning a
little.  "It's not exactly easy, you know.  For me either."

"Yeah, well, with Sebastian how could you expect anything to be easy?"  He
toasted me with his beer.  "But you...you look better too.  More relaxed or
something, you're smiling a lot more.  I think this is a good thing, even
if it's all kinds of fucked up."

"It's good, it is," I assured him, needing him to believe me.  "And it's
not THAT fucked up.  Unusual, maybe, but not as rare as you'd think, and
pretty healthy, actually."

"As long as it keeps the coke straw out of his nose, his jimmy out of the
groupies, and my furniture intact?  It's gotta be healthy."  He groaned.
"And steers him away from the new drummer and whoever his SO is.  Honest to
god, Lance, I almost killed your boy there for losing us that last one."

I nodded.  We'd lost our original drummer to the church; our lifestyle
hadn't jived with his newfound beliefs, so we'd parted ways with no hard
feelings on either part, and we'd been playing with session drummers and
trial replacements ever since.  The last one had seemed perfect, but then
Sebastian had come on to his girlfriend backstage one night, in full view
of us all, licking his lips at her and thrusting his hips, and Bob had
almost punched him out before grabbing his girlfriend and disappearing.
The last month of the tour, we'd had to make due with a guy the record
company had hired, and he hadn't been great, but it had gotten the job
done.  Before we tried to record the next album, we had to find someone
right for us.

"He won't," I assured Adam.  "He's not doing that any more."

"If you're right, you're more of a miracle worker than I thought," Adam
said, but he sounded hopeful.  We broke off our conversation as voices
approached, Seb and James chattering away, and I smiled a little, knowing
that Sebastian would have taken care of his apology privately, and that I'd
hear the story later. I settled in with my beer, content to be among my
friends, eager to get playing.



Part Twelve: Baby

It was almost TOO weird, having the guys over, having Adam know almost
everything and James just think we were regular boyfriends, having Lance be
just Lance instead of "Sir" for the first time in so long I almost couldn't
remember when life had been different.  Plus, my insides were still all
shaky and weak, from the feelings I'd had when he'd abandoned me for those
hours in the afternoon.

I'm a grownup, I can live my own life.  If something happened and me and
Lance didn't make it, I'd be okay.  But I'd rather not have to, I like it
SO much better when Lance is in control, when Lance has responsibility for
me.  When I can tell how much he loves me by how he hurts me and pets me
and shames me.  It's wonderful, and when he took it away this afternoon I
thought I'd die.  Until then I'd mostly been thinking about ways to get
around what Lance wanted me to do, like his control was something I didn't
even want, or something that was all HIS idea.  God.  I can be so dumb
sometimes, it's scary.  In those hours in the afternoon, I remembered just
how scary it can be when you've got no one to answer to but your own fucked
up self.

I'd felt lost.  My feelings were hurt, too, that Lance could just send me
away so casually, and my body ached emptily.  One week of always wearing
the plug and my ass felt vacant and needy and stretched without it.  I was
itching inside, something was missing, and it grew and grew until I was
almost in tears, and knew that I had to beg him to take me back right away,
to reestablish us in the roles I suddenly realized I needed so much.

He's smart, Lance is; because of that afternoon, I was totally on my best
behavior that night.  Even with the other guys around, my attention was
almost always on him, the whole evening.  I don't think it was obvious, but
I managed to wait on him a little at dinner, and I sat as close to his knee
as I could when we were eating.  Adam's great; he watched us, yeah, but he
looked puzzled and amused, not disgusted or anything bad.  Of course, he
hadn't seen our playroom or anything, or my bottom after I'd been bad, but
I knew he knew things had to be going on that would be kind of strange to
him, and he didn't judge, at least that I could see.  He'd asked me really
seriously if I was sure about what was happening to me.  Without going into
too many details, I swore up and down that Lance, and this, were the best
things that ever happened to me.  I think he believed me.

We had dinner, and it was almost like being back on tour, telling jokes and
playing around.  I could tell that James was totally baffled by how nice I
was being, but the truth is, I didn't even WANT to be nasty to him.  I was
happy just taking my cues from Lance, who gave me nods when I was doing
well, and a little warning shake of his head the one time I started to get
angry at James's teasing.  I almost snapped when Adam kept missing the long
arpeggio in one of our ballads-he obviously hadn't practiced it enough!-but
again, I managed to catch myself before I'd done more than growl.

The music was fantastic, as always.  When I'm singing, I go to that same
incredible place I can reach sometimes when Lance is training me, where I'm
perfect and happy and content, doing what I know is right for me.  We ran
through our whole set from the tour, and Adam showed us some new stuff,
which totally kicked ass.  He even brought some lyrics in; though those are
usually my department, he had written some really cool lines that I knew
would sound incredible when we got the whole song pulled together.

By the time they left, I was exhausted, but happy.  It had gone so well; I
hadn't called Lance 'sir' even once, though it was a near thing a couple of
times, and I hadn't lost my temper or broken any of my rules.  We waved
goodbye to them from the door, Lance's hand gentle on the small of my back,
and when the door swung closed, Lance cupped my face in his hands and drew
me down for a long, deep kiss.  I sighed into it, my eyes falling closed,
and just gave myself to him.

He was smiling when he pulled away.  "You made me very proud of you
tonight, Seb."  I couldn't help but glow at his words, my whole body
feeling warm and joyful.  "GOOD boy."  His voice was rich with approval,
and I wiggled like a puppy, squirming my hard cock against his body, almost
dancing.

"Yeah?  I was good?"  I grinned, wanting to hear more.

 "You know you were, brat.  Now it's time to get those clothes off," he
commanded gently, pushing me away a little as he laughed.  "Fold them
neatly, and go to your room.  I'll be up soon, I need to get some things
ready for tonight."

"What things?"  I was eager to know, and scared.  I knew we hadn't really
addressed my misbehavior with the belt earlier, and had no idea if my
success this evening had counteracted that.  I doubted it; Lance believes
in rewards for good behavior and punishment for bad, but he doesn't cancel
out one with the other.  Otherwise, he says, it's too hard to keep track of
where you are in the reckoning.

"That's for me to know and you to find out," he said firmly, though his
eyes were shining wickedly and I got a delicious tickle of fear.  "Now keep
up your winning record, kiddo.  Get going."

I practically bolted away from him.  Aside from the paddling that morning,
I hadn't been disciplined for well over twenty four hours, and I was
feeling the lack.  I hoped he'd be very harsh with me, though the idea
terrified me.  Ever since the experience at Ben's, I'd realized he'd been
holding himself back with me.  I wanted him to let go, and at the same time
I hoped he never did.

I've never stripped so fast, though I was careful to fold my clothes and
put them away.  The room was dark, so I turned on the light and read the
rules again, finding them as comforting as always.  By the time Lance
stepped through the door, already naked and intimidatingly hard, a full
glass of something in his hand, I was kneeling on the mat in the middle of
the room, my cock aching to be touched.

"Sebastian."  Just my name, in that tone of voice, and I was wise enough to
start shaking.  "Tell me why we're here right now."

"I tried to take my belt off without permission," I said, voice as calm as
I could make it.  "I didn't trust you enough to ask for what I needed."

He nodded approval, his face set in that terrible kindness that he shows
when he's about to make me scream.  My mouth drooled for his cock, my body
tensed in knowledge of what was to come.  "I will give you everything you
need.  Always.  Because you were thinking only of yourself again, you
forgot that.  That body is mine, you agreed to that and I accepted it as my
responsibility.  We're going to start making that a reality tonight."

"Ho-how is that, sir?"  My voice was barely a whisper, and pulled at my
suddenly-dry throat.

"You'll see."  He touched the crown of my head with a finger, and my head
bent instantly.  "Outside the door are some plastic sheets.  Go get them
and put them on your dog bed, and bring me the paper bag that is with them.
Do NOT look inside."

"Yes sir."  I scrambled to my feet and rushed to follow his instructions.
Not looking into that bag was one of the hardest things I've ever had to
do, but I managed it, and soon had the bed made up as he'd requested,
wondering all the time what they were for.  Was he finally going to make me
bleed tonight?  My belly clenched at the thought, and I walked back to the
room much more slowly.

"Now come here."  He gestured to me, and I walked trembling to stand in
front of him, in the center of four of the D-rings that had been bolted to
the floor.  He handed me the glass with a little smile, and I drank the
contents obediently, grimacing at the thick texture and strange taste.
When I'd finished it he took it away from me and set the glass aside, and
with the efficiency of long practice, had me in ankle and wrist cuffs and
the heavy collar I'd worn earlier, in self-inflicted penance.  My mind
started to drift at the first touch of the leather, as it always did,
anticipating the pain before it even began.

"All fours, please, sweetie."  His tone brooked no questions, so I went
down, and he fastened my hands and ankles to the rings with short lengths
of chain.  I could move neither forward nor back, couldn't stand or fall
flat.  I was effectively trapped in this position, and let my head hang,
staring down my body at my cock, hanging full and red and pointing at the
floor.  The tip was dripping, and my balls were tight and painful, despite
the fact that I'd come earlier that day.  When I felt his hands on my head
I raised it, and was more surprised than I should have been when sharp
fingers at the hinge of my jaw forced my mouth open and the horrible rubber
ball pressed my tongue down flat.  I shook my head instinctively, and his
hand connected with my bottom sharply, making me jump and then sit very
still.

"You can't use your safeword now," he told me, and I nodded mute
understanding.  "I'm going to watch you very carefully, and if you need to
stop, tap the ground three times.  Just like in wrestling."  I nodded
again, trying to adjust my breathing around the gag, my throat tight with
the need to speak.  There's something about the gag that I hate more than
anything else we use; it takes away who I am, and leaves me nothing but a
reacting body, no way to communicate with my master except through the
messages of pain my body can send him.  It's terrifying on a level that
nothing else is, and I could feel the sweat start to prickle along my spine
and across my shoulders.  He moved around some more, and I heard clicks and
beeps that confused me completely, but I couldn't see what he was doing.
Then I closed my eyes as I heard something swish through the air.

"Strap tonight, baby," his awful, gentle voice, with no mercy in it, was
hammering at my ears.  I tried to make my body as small as possible.  "You
may not come.  You must stay on your hands and knees.  I love you very
much.  Nod if you understand."  I nodded blindly, pressing my palms hard
into the rubber mat, wishing for something to hold on to.  My hole was
fluttering wildly, and I wished for the weight of a plug, again, something
to ground me and distract me.  Better yet, Lance's cock, and we could skip
the beating altoget-

Always a horrifying, incredible, insane, screaming surprise, the first
blow.  The pain and shock of it arced through me like electricity, sending
me leaping forward only to be caught by the straps on my ankles and yanked
painfully back to my knees.  I was screaming against the gag, the sound
unsatisfying and muted, my jaw straining to widen around the ball and
release the breath.  As soon as the burn subsided the second blow fell,
harder than the first, and I shrieked obscenities into uncaring rubber, my
face burning and twisting under my tears, my hands fisting against the mat,
my whole body shaking.  By the fourth blow I was yanking against the chains
constantly, desperate to get away from the strap which was hitting my
bottom in the same place each time, building pain on pain and scream on
scream, each stroke harsher than the last.  I spread my knees as far as
they would go, pushing my hips down involuntarily, and the tip of my cock
brushed the floor, sending me bolting back up with another howl.  Too much,
too much sensation, too much pain, and the touch on my cock was going to
make me come...then the eighth stroke fell and I had much more urgent
things to occupy me.

It was mercy, maybe, when Lance stopped at fifteen, though by that point I
was boneless and sobbing helplessly, crouched down as far as I could get
without my penis brushing the floor, and the pain was a red fire in my
blood, my heart beating against my breastbone like it was trying to escape.
I was sucking for air through my nose, my mouth raw and wet around the gag
where I had drooled around it, and when I felt Lance's hands yanking
playfully on my balls and spreading my cheeks, I could only moan.

He loves to fuck me after he beats me.  More often than not, that's the
only time I feel his cock inside me, and I crave it like I crave air, so I
held very still, waiting to feel his fingers.  I'd been without a plug,
after all, for a long time now, and with nothing else inside me, surely he
wouldn't just...

Pain, more intense for the fact that it was INSIDE me, as he forced that
huge cock of his into my body.  I lurched forward again, trying to get
away, but he held me still with a harsh hand on my shoulder, and I arched
my back and keened out all the agony and the intense flickers of pleasure
that were coursing up my spine.  Then my ass was full of him, stretching
and tearing me open, as my anus tried frantically to push him out.  His
cock felt like it was on fire, searing my body and branding me Lance's
forever, inside and out.  Every "no," every "please," every "oh god, please
stop, I can't, it hurts," was turned into a mushy mumble by the gag, and I
felt red heat behind my eyes as he started to fuck in and out of my body.
Sometimes when he's using me like this I feel almost like I'm not even
there, like I've become part of him, like I've simply become an extension
of his lust and love.  This time, though, the raw place where he'd beat me
so many times was slammed by his hipbones on each thrust, and I was dying
to come, and he was whispering that he loved me, and I was dying to come,
and his cockhead raked over my prostate cruelly each time, and I was dying
to come, and the only thing I could think of was that I could. Not. Come.

My ass was a giant throb of scarlet pain, so intense that I couldn't
separate it from pleasure, so brutal that my brain just went offline, and I
clung to control of my cock with my last thread of consciousness.  I could
not come, I could not disobey, I could not disappoint Lance, and I chanted
that to myself as he forced himself deeper and deeper into me, corkscrewing
his hips and grinding his cock so deep it felt like he'd never be able to
leave.  When he finally came, the salty pulses painful as a fingernail
dragged against my insides, I gasped in relief.  I'd done it.  He collapsed
against my back, forcing my shaking arms and legs down into a crouch again,
bearing his weight.

"Good boy, good boy," he murmured, and bit the nape of my neck sharply,
then licked the bitemark, setting me squirming again.  I was whimpering, I
couldn't stop, shaking and sweating and jerking involuntarily with every
touch on my hypersensitive skin.  "Oh, you're such a good boy, Seb.  You're
learning, you're so smart and good."  He was crooning now, and I felt
myself slowly relax, and he pulled out of me quickly, dragging my back into
a low arch as he did.  I felt cold and empty when he was gone, sweaty and
filthy and small, crouched and bound to the floor like that.  My eyes were
barely open, but I saw his feet pass in front of me as my wrists were
released, his strong fingers massaging just below the cuffs, where my skin
had gone bloodless with the force of my struggles.

"That's a boy."  I could tell he was smiling, and forced my eyes open to
see it, since Lance's smiles are not to be missed.  I glanced up and he was
looking down at me, his eyes bright, smile wide and genuine and loving, and
I crinkled my eyes at him, the closest I could come to a smile with the gag
in my mouth.  I waited for him to remove it, like he always did, but he
made no move towards it, just rubbing my hands until they were flesh-toned
again.  I purred, filled with self-satisfaction and anticipation.  Surely
he'd let me come again now.

"We're going to try something new tonight, honey," he told me softly, and I
whimpered hopefully.  "You won't like it," he promised, and my eyes
widened, "and I'm going to leave your gag on so that you won't say anything
we'll both regret later.  And Sebastian, the three-tap rule still applies.
But if you use it for this, there will be consequences.  I will stop, of
course, but I will not touch you again, in any way, for three days.  Do you
understand?"  I stared at him.  I was shaking harder now than I had been
when he was fucking me.  "It won't hurt you, except your pride," he added,
looking me straight in the eyes.  "It's what I've decided you need, and you
must trust me."

I nodded, hesitantly.  The thought of Lance withdrawing from me for three
whole days was awful; I'd barely lasted three HOURS today, and he knew it.
Without even knowing what he was going to do to me, anger started bubbling
inside me.  How could he use that against me?  How could he be so fucking
cruel, giving me the choice between some unknown horror or lack of what I
had to have to live?  He'd ruined the wonderful soft feelings of after-pain
for me, as well, and I could feel myself getting tense again.

"Okay."  I know he saw the anger, but he just smiled, and stroked my hair.
"Stand up, sweetie.  Walk around a little bit, get the blood flowing."  I
stood carefully, wincing at the intense pain in my ass.  When I checked,
there was blood and fluid dripping down between my legs, and my own cock
was still hard, though not nearly as urgent as it had been before Lance's
little announcement.  I only watched warily as Lance fetched my longest,
strongest leash, and snapped it to my collar, and I followed when he led me
to the bed.  When he pressed me down to the rubber sheet on my back, I knew
he felt my stiffness and resistance, but he didn't say anything about it.
I mumbled nasty things against the gag, knowing he couldn't hear, not
really caring at that point if he COULD.

He stepped away for a moment, and when he returned he pulled me gently down
the bed by my legs, until my bottom was very close to the edge.  He spread
my thighs with his hands, and I felt the cool sting of a wet wipe on my
balls and penis and thighs, and then the BURN of it against my asshole, and
I tossed my head and moaned weakly, scrunching up the bed as well as I
could with no leverage.

"Sit still, Sebastian."  His voice was warning, and I did, glaring at him
hatefully.  He pushed my thighs up towards my chest, and told me to hold
them there, so I grabbed my knees and waited, watching him with wide eyes.

When I saw what he was holding, I simply lost. My. Mind.  It's the only
explanation, because I FLUNG myself off the bed and away from him without a
thought, brought up short and yanked to the floor by his hold on the leash,
and even then I braced my hands and twisted against him, fighting with
every bit of strength left in me to get away.  My mind was a blank wall of
NO, and though I could see his tense face and straining muscles and his
mouth moving, it made no impression and I couldn't understand his words.
Finally, he released his hold on the leash and I crashed backwards with my
own momentum, and he had a knee on my chest and my shoulders pinned to the
floor, and I could hear him shouting my name.

"-ASTIAN!  STOP!  This instant, stop this RIGHT NOW BEFORE YOU HURT
YOURSELF."  I froze, paralyzed, shaking like a leaf, staring at him, sounds
I couldn't even identify coming from my throat.  He took a deep breath, and
released his hold a fraction, shaking his head when I made no move to
bolt. "You've got the choice," he said in a more reasonable tone, though
his voice was tight and hard.  "Tap three times, or stop this unbelievable
misbehavior RIGHT now."  I panted, feeling the air burn my strained lungs,
and looked into his eyes, and surrendered.  It was like a dam had broken,
and suddenly I couldn't see him through the tears.  No, no, no, I wanted to
beg him.  Please don't do this, I'll hate you for this, I'll get you for
this, I can't do this.  But of course, I couldn't.

He pulled me to my feet, none-too-gently, and pushed me back to the bed.  I
went, still crying silently, and lay on my back, my arms and legs heavy
with dread.  He lifted my hips up and slipped the seat of the diaper under
them, then brought my legs back down, and I felt the crinkle of plastic
between my legs as he drew it tight over my completely flaccid penis, flat
over my lower abdomen, tightening the sticky tabs until it was snug around
me.  I stared at the ceiling and swore that I would never pee or crap
again.

"You're probably thinking that you'll just never go," Lance said
conversationally, and my eyes snapped to him in shock.  He smirked at my
surprise, and I hated him even more.  "Considering the laxative and
diuretic you drank earlier, it'll be interesting to see you try."  He
reached out to touch my cheek, and I turned my head away from him, so angry
I could taste it.  I heard him sigh, and his weight left the bed.  I stared
at the wall.

"You'll have to accept this, Sebastian," he said sadly.  "Just like
everything else.  You can stay here and think about it for a little while.
Don't touch your diaper, and don't leave the bed."  He moved away, and soon
I could hear the shower running.

I just lay there and seethed, the hateful thing on my body already itching
and irritating me, my bladder already demanding to release, my bowels
heavy.  I hoped changing it was the most disgusting thing ever.  Lance
deserved it.  All my earlier serenity and submission was gone, and I
realized that it had mostly just been a veneer, a behavior assumed because
I knew it would be rewarded by Lance and would bring me his praise, though
my fear at his withdrawal had been genuine enough.  Fucking Lance and his
fucking ideas.

"Don't speak," were the first words he spoke to me when he returned.  "I'm
taking your gag off, but I don't want you to speak.  God knows what would
come out of your mouth, and I'm in no mood to tolerate it, so be silent."
I nodded reluctantly, desperate to have the gag out of my aching, dry
mouth.  As soon as he pulled the ball away, I snapped my mouth shut,
stretching my jaw carefully, working my tongue around until it was moist
again.  And I kept staring at the ceiling.  I moved my focus to the floor
when he pulled me to my feet, and I walked mechanically, crying inside at
the tight cottony pressure against me, the bite of the elastic around the
leg holes.  He led me to our bedroom, sat me on the bed, and forced my head
up.  I kept my eyes deliberately unfocused, until a sharp pain in my nipple
snapped my attention unwillingly to Lance.

"Thank you," he said dryly, looking me in the eyes, and he seemed...amused?
As well as angry.  "Pay attention, here.  No more zoning, or you'll regret
it."  I could feel my stubborn anger like a hard ball in my chest, but it
was impossible to ignore the habits of obedience I'd gained over the last
week, and I focused on him reluctantly.  "I know you're upset right now,
and that's okay, though your defiance definitely is NOT.  I want you to go
to your bed and think about it for a while, I'm going to finish up a few
things I'm working on here.  If you dirty your diaper before it's time for
your spanking, I'll change you and put a fresh one on, and you'll sleep in
comfort.  If you get stubborn and try to hold it, though, any mess you make
in the night will be yours to live with until it's morning.  Do you
understand?"

I nodded, my whole body burning with shame.  Until he talked about it, I
couldn't believe he'd be keeping me in these things; surely it was a
one-off, a scare tactic, something to shame me into surrender.  But there
was no hesitation in his voice, and I blinked a plea at him.

"You can ask.  Politely," he warned.

"Sir," I ground it out.  "How long will I be wearing these...THINGS?"  I
squirmed on the bed, desperate to get it off.  He stroked my hair, and this
time I didn't move away.

"As long as you need to."  He sounded tired, but I didn't care.  I've never
hated anyone more than I hated Lance then, and yet some part of me was
coming back, desperate for his approval and touch and love.  I nodded jerky
acceptance, and he smiled again, patted my shoulder, and sent me to my bed.

Lying curled on your side is possibly the hardest position to hold when you
have to use the toilet.  Something about the position squishes up your
insides, and forces everything to try to get out.  Within fifteen minutes,
I was squirming miserably, knowing Lance could hear because of the plastic
sheet on the bed, not even caring any more.  I clamped down with every
muscle in my body, and thought fiercely and determinedly about music, and
all the not-Lance people I'd ever fucked, and then about Lance and how well
and perfectly HE'd fucked me tonight.  That actually distracted me really
well, and Lance's light touch on my hip made me jump in startlement.

"Just checking," he murmured, slipping a finger into the leg of the diaper,
and shaking his head when he found it dry.  "Oh, Seb.  You stubborn little
shit.  Well, it's your call."  He pulled me out of the bed and had me
across his knees quickly, and spanked me ten times with a light hand.  I
almost couldn't feel the smacks; the pressure of his thighs on my belly was
almost unbearable, and I was howling through clenched teeth by the time he
was done.  He rested a hand on my bottom before refastening the diaper,
stroking the hot place where the strap had landed earlier.  "Last chance,"
he murmured.  "Let it go, honey.  Give in."

I shook my head mutely, teeth clamped in my lower lip, and he sighed.
"You're going to regret this," he told me, and I almost bitched back that I
already did.  But even I'm not that crazy, and I let him cuff my wrists to
my collar, and curled back up in my bed silently.  Before he even turned
out the light, the cramping in my bladder and gut was so intense I was
whining under my breath, trying hopelessly to straighten my legs.

"Sebastian, hush," Lance snapped in the darkness, and his voice startled me
so much that my bladder just released.  Warm wetness filled the front of
the diaper, and I cried out wordlessly, relief and shame and horror washing
through me.  The relaxation of it caught me by surprise, and I felt the
first gush from my hole, as well, and clamped down hard.  But my body,
stretched out by plugs and Lance and dildos, couldn't hold it in, and
before I knew it, cramps were pushing through me and I'd soiled the diaper
helplessly, the shit held hot and acid against my skin by the diaper,
squishing slippery between my cheeks.

The first sob came from somewhere so deep down inside me I didn't even know
it was there, and wrenched its way out of my body, wet and raw and loud.
The second came instantly after that, and before I could catch my breath I
was hysterical, almost hyperventilating with the force of the emotions I
couldn't hold in any more.  I cried myself dry and lightheaded and
exhausted, and through it all, Lance was silent, not comforting me or
scolding me or saying anything at all.  He just let me get it out, and when
I'd finally slowed down to wet sniffles and shakes, I felt his hand on my
shoulder.

"Do you have something to tell me, baby?"  His voice held no anger in the
dark.

"Thank you," I said, and meant it.  MEANT it.  My whole soul felt clean,
like I'd cried out every bit of anger I'd ever had.  I knew it would be
back, but for now, I felt young and delicate and innocent and clean and so
exhausted I could see everything clearly, finally.  "I love you, sir.
Thank you for helping me be good."

His hand stroked my hair back, wiped my cheeks, and knuckles ran lightly
down my throat.  "Oh, honey.  You are welcome."  He kissed my mouth, light
and sweet, and then my cheek, and went back to bed.

[end part twelve]