Page 22 of A Little Christmas 4: Teller
He smiled. “I use the stoplight system. Have you ever safeworded in a scene? Do you do Daddy/little scenes?”
“Back before I transitioned to the sweeter side of domination, I was a disciplinary Dom. I taught other Doms how to discipline their subs without hurting them. Usually, the dungeon master of the clubs I frequented would refer a Dom to me for training if they’d been reported for questionable behavior by their sub or another Dom at the club.
“One time, a Dom was giving a demonstration on Shibari, and after he had the male sub entwined in a beautiful display of the technique, he pulled out a sounding plug. Do you know what sounding is?” I asked because his face was blank.
He shook his head, and I couldn’t help but smile. His innocence was more than a little attractive to me. He was the embodiment of a wide-eyed little, which was like a unicorn to me. He hadn’t been tainted by the darker side of domination like so many people who ended up with the wrong Dom or sub.
Riley had been the wrong sub/little for me, and I nearly gave up the lifestyle because of him. I would thank my lucky stars that Teller came along when he did because he brought out the caretaker in me that I’d been missing for quite a while.
“Sounding is when a toy specifically designed for the practice is inserted into the urethra. I’ve never done it or had it done to me, but this guy proceeded to do it with his sub screaming at him that he didn’t want it. He safeworded, and the Dom didn’t stop.” I’d been at the club that night, and when the young man said no the first time, regardless of whether it was his safeword or not, the Dom should have stopped and had a conversation with him. I’d been spitting fire that night. I was so angry at the Dom.
“What happened?” Teller’s eyes were twice the size they should be, so I leaned forward and kissed him gently to put him at ease.
“The dungeon master stopped the presentation when he figured out it wasn’t part of the scene. He cut the kid down and took him to a private room to remove the damn sounding rod. I went to get a drink of water to try to calm down, but some of the others at the club that night thought it wasn’t a big deal. The dungeon master hunted me down and asked me to retrain the Dom regarding respect of safewords so he could maintain his membership at the club. It was when I lived in London.”
“How did you retrain him? Did you do that sounding thing to him?”
“I didn’t because I’m not an expert in that particular kink,” I said.
“What are you an expert in?” Teller asked.
“Back then, I had an Indiana Jones fetish. I was proficient with a whip and a flogger.” I was an idiot, but I got off on it back then. Having someone beg me to whip them made me feel like a god.
“Who’s Indiana Jones?”
I put my right hand over my heart. “You wound me. Do I seem that old? Once we find a place to live, we’ll have to have anIndiana Jonesmarathon, but for now, he was an archaeologist who studied ancient civilizations and traveled the world protecting ancient artifacts from falling into the wrong hands, more or less. Anyway, he was proficient with a bullwhip, and when I saw the first movie—it had been out a while—I wanted to learn how to handle a whip.
“Of course what parent is going to buy a six-year-old a whip? None who have any sense at all. So I made my own with a piece of rope and a wooden spoon. I got my dad to drill a hole into the spoon, and I pretended it was a bull whip.” We were off topic, but he was giggling so sweetly and rubbing his onesie-covered ass against my hard dick so I wanted to draw out the story.
“Anyway, I was really good with a whip, but I would have torn him to shreds if I’d used it on him...you’re killing me baby...so I…mmm…made him bring me a buggy whip, which is gentler on the skin. It stings, but it doesn’t…that feels good…cut the skin.
“I knew this particular Dom pretty well, and he was a real dick, but I believed a scare was all it would take to remind him why we all had safewords. He wasn’t into receiving pain, so I was sure the scare would be more than enough.
“I strapped the guy to a St. Andrews Cross and asked if he’d like me...fuck...to whip his ass with the buggy whip he’d broughtme and ignorehissafeword. It did the trick. When I released him from the cross, the dungeon master gave the guy a lecture about the importance of adhering to safewords, and he suspended him from attending parties at the club for a month. The guy ended up leaving the club, but it was a lesson to everyone who frequented it that safewords were to be respected.”
Apparently, Teller noticed my breathing had become more labored as I tried to keep my orgasm at bay. “Daddy, are you hard because of the memory of what you did, or are you—”
I flipped us so he was under me and quickly unsnapped the onesie He wasn’t wearing the training pants I’d bought him, which was good because what I had in mind shouldn’t be witnessed by those sweet training pants.
“Daddy!” he gasped. His body tensed as I kissed my way down his belly to his neatly trimmed groin.
“You have no idea what hearing you say Daddy does to me, sweet boy. I’m going to taste you now.” My mouth watered as I licked a stripe up his cock, swirling my tongue over the precum on the tip.
“Delicious,” I whispered as I pressed against my own cock to ease the pressure.
“Oh god, if you keep doing that, I’m going to lose it.” I scanned his torso to see his chocolate-brown eyes fixed on me.
“No coming. I’m going to play until the food comes, then we’ll eat and get some sleep.” I rolled onto my stomach and rutted into the mattress as I went back to edging him.
Bless his heart, he didn’t come, but I did, right there in my boxer briefs, absolutely loving his reactions to what I was doing to him. He was breathtaking.
The white clapboard house with black shutters reminded me of some of the houses I’d seen in upstate New York. It sat at the front of ten acres of pasture that begged for a couple of horses to graze. The squat pink brick rambler we’d just left couldn’t hold a candle to what I was seeing.
“What do we think?” Sabrina, the realtor, asked. She was young, not much older than Teller, but she was pleasant and allowed the two of us to stroll the other property alone so we could discuss how much we didn’t like the brick house.
“What about the owners? Where are they?” I asked.
I’d had Teller read the specs of the house to me on the drive over, so we both knew it was a three-bedroom, three-and-a-half bath house with a finished walkout basement. There was a formal dining room and living room, along with a conservatory off the kitchen.
