BECAUSE OF THIS (1/4)
Jun. 20th, 2010 03:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tingrecaTitle: Because of This
Author: Sarah B. Leonard
Fandom: NCIS
Pairing: Gibbs/DiNozzo, Trainer/DiNozzo, (later chapters: OMC/DiNozzo, OFC/DiNozzo, dub-con)
Rating: adult NC-17 (explicit) with BDSM, some darkness (I almost wrote "light darkness"), angst
Wordcount: 33,333 divided in 4 parts
Spoilers: some mentioned, but not too serious
Warning: m/m sex, one scene of m/m/m, adult spanking (one scene), flogging,
Food and drink warning: a little - after all, Tony does talk but this is "The Serious One" I was talking about
Summary: Tony has learned about what he needs but where will he look to find it?
Beta by:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
murgy31 but I claim all the mistakes Cheerleading and encouragement by:
cnine , xanthelj , tinlizzie82 and the folks at writingncis Disclaimer: These characters belong to DPB, CBS, Paramount, et al. No copyright infringement is intended.
Authors notes: This story is complete. It will be posted in four sections (provided LJ and I get along...) in four days. This has been my joy and tribulation with many interruptions over the past 9 months (It's a baby!) so I hope you enjoy it. If you read it, please comment. I collect comments and those lovely little pictures that go along with most comments.
At the end, there will be a quiz, unless someone notices and mentions it .....
Because of This
By Sarah B. Leonard
(On)
“Because of this, Tony often makes sense. But, as I’ve said before, he has his moments.
This is me. Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. ‘Gibbs’ to just about everyone.
I’d been out of sorts lately. Frustrated. Everything was bothering me – beyond my normal, anyway. As I’ve said before, the second ‘B’ is for ‘bastard.’ Even I noticed. Even I was disgusted with my own attitude.
It got so bad I … well, I went to talk to Ducky. We’ve known each other for years. I could talk to him. He offered Scotch and some suggestions. The one he stressed, after the second glass of his Scotch – maybe the third or even the sixth - was writing a journal. Pencil and paper. He thought that I might be able to figure out what was – what is – bothering me by writing about my days, writing my thoughts and then going back to the text later. I was drunk enough by then to agree and now I am honor bound to do so, at least for a month. Damn him. My mistake. I agreed. Damn me, I guess.
He wanted three months but I didn’t think I’d be able to even write one sentence. I promised him one month. So far, I’d have to say I am doing a good job. So far, I don’t have to slap my own head. He promised to check up on me every week or else. He didn’t tell me what else, but I’ve known him long enough to imagine. I can imagine a lot. Plus he threatened something about reporting me as ‘unfit to work due to mental instability’ or some such nonsense.
So the idea was to write what I remember from the day, what made the biggest impressions on me and how I felt about it. Or feel about it now, while I am writing, and I can’t analyze what I’m writing. He called it ‘stream of consciousness’ or something.
However I did get one dispensation from him. He said, if I talked out loud while working on the boat, he’d agree to that. But I had to turn on a tape recorder so he could listen later. I could talk as if I was talking to him or someone else, or like I was telling a story. Whatever I needed to get words out. He even gave me the recorder and set it up. Has an eight hour tape in it. All I have to do is press one of two buttons.
I got it, Duck. That much I can handle.
Ok. So as far as this day goes, I’m pissed I let Ducky talk me into this. End of day one.”
(Off)
(a day later)
(On)
“Dammit. Dammit to hell. Well, at least I can say there is no problem figuring out what affected me the most yesterday. I still can’t believe it. If I cared about dreams, I might claim I dreamt it. But I know I didn’t. It happened.
It started out innocently enough. DiNozzo asked me to watch some movies, maybe grill outside on his balcony and have some beer at his place. We’d done this before, sometimes, just the two of us or sometimes the whole gang – although as you know, Duck, the whole gang is more likely at your place.
It rained, so instead of grilling steaks out we broiled ‘em inside. We ate on his couch by balancing plates on our laps, leaning forward to pick up our beer bottles from the floor. DiNozzo planned a Clint Eastwood marathon. Fine with me. We were into the second movie by then. All seemed normal until we simultaneously finished our beers. He offered to get two, so I leaned back and relaxed as he paused the movie and left for his kitchen.
Within seconds, he walked back in, head down. He had changed clothes – from loose sweats into a pair of skin tight – hey balls tight! – black leather pants and a collar. A collar like one of Abby’s collars. He had messed up his hair – all spiky. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and his hands were behind his back.
I just stared. Just stared. I absolutely couldn’t move. Yeah, I like Tony. I like his company and his sense of humor; his work even if I don’t care for his work ethic. But I had never felt desire for him until that moment, when he walked up to me and knelt. I swear I had never seen it before. I swear he had never reeked of sex to me until that moment.
Yeah.
He knelt in front of me. I could see he was trembling. And sweating, like he was being interrogated and was just about to break.
He lifted up his hands – he was wearing black leather wrist cuffs. Without meeting my eyes, he opened the fastening of my pants and very slowly, very carefully slid down the zipper. It was so slow that I could have counted every single tooth in the damn zipper. He reached in and pulled it out. My dick out. Funny how even thinking about this, I get chills again. Then he leaned forward and kissed it. He pressed my legs apart, leaned in further and swallowed.
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t do a damn thing. Nothing but watch my dick – my own personal dick - disappear between my agent’s lips.
Damn - I still couldn’t move.
He could move though. He started to move up and down, and swirled his tongue around me. He sucked like a damn vacuum cleaner. And he moaned. Gawd, he moaned like he was in absolute ecstasy. The vibrations raced through me. His hands, still on the inside of my thighs, pressed my legs apart. His thumbs rubbed back and forth, massaging me. It felt damn good. It all felt good.
I stared at the top of his head. I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t want to do anything else, just sit there and let him do his thing, digging my fingers into his couch so I wouldn’t grab his head. I don’t know why I was so polite – I wanted to drive into him and fuck his mouth hard but I couldn’t.
Why? Don’t know. But I didn’t. I let him suck me and swallow me and when I shot, he swallowed that too.
Then he licked me clean, arranged me back into my pants and just as carefully as he had lowered the zipper, he zipped it back up. Then he stood, still staring at the floor, turned and walked out.
Then in just a minute, maybe less, he was back. Hair combed, in the original sweats and t-shirt, collarless, cuffless and carrying two beers. He handed one to me, sat down where he had been and started the movie back up as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t been half naked kneeling in front of me. As if he hadn’t just had my dick for dessert. As if I wasn’t still half paralyzed from what he had just done to me.
I think I drank the beer in two gulps. Damn.
That was it. We finished that movie and watched another. I had a couple more beers, which I got from the kitchen. There was nothing out of place in his kitchen. Yeah I looked. Checked out his bathroom later. Normal – well, DiNozzo normal. Lots of hair product, colognes.
No cuffs. No collar. No leather pants.
Shit.”
(Off)
(several days later)
(On)
“Ok, Duck. I guess the last few days of tapes were kinda boring for you. Just cases that we were both working on, so you knew pretty much what I’d been doing. But now this is different. I’m doing this but I don’t know if you are ever going to get to hear this. Or anything beyond this sentence, anyway.
DiNozzo asked me to his place again. This time for pizza and beer. Yeah. Bastard that I am I went. Hell I’m an investigator! I was investigating his behavior.
Again, he was in sweats. Barefoot. His usual ultra casual attire. His actions were normal – snarky and witty and – typical DiNozzo. No sign of any of those leather garments.
This time we watched The Duke. Yeah, John Wayne. After about the fiftieth impression I finally growled at him to knock it off or I’d knock him off.
Yeah. That’s when it happened. He stood up, dropped his pants and spread himself face down over my lap. His bare ass glared up at me.
“Spank me, Boss.”
I heard him say it, even though his face was turned away from me. Damn – bare assed across my lap and he’s still watching the movie? Well, maybe he wasn’t.
I - damn it, Duck. He had me again. I couldn’t resist! I swatted him. He groaned and grabbed on to the couch. Then he - I swear he did this – he wiggled his ass at me. I hit him again and again. I whaled on his ass – turned it pink, red, and then hot. And he just stayed there. Taking it.
Duck – he loved it. I could feel him getting hard. He was yelling and gasping and begging for it. He yelled for me to hit him harder, make him feel it, make him take it.
I was hard too. I had one arm wrapped around his thighs, holding him in place as I tattooed his butt with the other hand. Gawd, it felt good. Better than good. It felt great. I poured everything I had into it. Swatted him until my own hand hurt. Finally I stopped. I didn’t want to. I felt there was more I should do, more I could do but I didn’t know what.
I asked him if he was ok. He didn’t answer that, just asked if I was done.
“Yeah. I am.”
I didn’t know what else to say.
He worked himself into a standing position, doing that ‘eyes down’ thing.
Then he knelt in front of me again and … well, you know. Took care of my hard-on with great enthusiasm. He gave me another blow job, Duck. Even better than the first time. This time I grabbed his head and held him on me and thrust into his hot wet mouth.
He made it last. He scraped me with his teeth when I got too close, or backed off, or changed the rhythm. He played me like he was a pro. Like he knew what he was doing. Like he’d been well trained. When he finally let me come – yeah, Duck, that’s how good he is – I think I passed out for a few seconds.
When he was done cleaning me up again he stood, pulled up his sweatpants, (Yeah, I looked. He was so hard it had to be painful.) and walked into the kitchen. He came out with two beers, handed me one and sat back down where he’d been before.
“D’you need me to back up the movie, Boss?” he asked me.
“Nah. I’m fine.” I told him. “How’s your ass?”
He looked down at the floor for a few seconds and then made some comment about the movie. Apparently he didn’t want to talk about it. No, obviously he didn’t want to talk about it. He sat there, next to me, still hard as a rock while we watched the movie.
Damn, Ducky. I felt great. I felt like a huge load was lifted from my shoulders. I felt – I felt free.
I felt kinda bad for him, but he wouldn’t even admit that he … uh … well, it faded.
I … uh … I don’t know what else to say.”
(Off)
The next morning, Gibbs walked in to Autopsy. Ducky was seated at his desk, reviewing his notes from the autopsy he had just concluded. Gibbs handed him a tape.
“First installments, Duck. I don’t want to be around when you listen to it.”
“Thank you, Jethro. I will review it at home tonight.”
“Uh. Yeah. Alone, I hope.”
“Of course, Jethro. Must you even ask? Patient confidentiality is merely the secondary reason when you are concerned. Friendship is first.”
“Yeah, well, it’s kinda embarrassing. I really just wanted to erase it but I did promise…”
“That you did, Jethro, and I am holding you to your promise. I will be extreme in adhering to your confidentiality. Oh – and let me give you a blank tape to record your next sessions.”
He opened one of his desk drawers and removed a new tape, still enclosed in its plastic wrapper.
“You have, by my count, twenty-four more days of our arrangement remaining.”
Gibbs took the offered tape as if it was about to bite him and stuffed it in his pocket.
“Yeah. Well, you may not want to listen to any more after this.”
Ducky chuckled. “I doubt that. I’m sure I will find them fascinating and very helpful.”
Gibbs opened his mouth and realized he didn’t know what to say.
“Yeah. Well, Duck, you stick to that story. See you later.”
He turned and let the Autopsy door close behind him.
Ducky stood and tucked the tape into the pocket of his overcoat that hung on the hook near the door. He knew that if he left it in sight, he would be tempted to listen to it. He certainly did not want anyone else to hear what Jethro might have revealed.
(later that night)
“Ah, there you are, Boy.”
Master entered the room where he was waiting, kneeling, sitting back on his heels, hands resting on his thighs, eyes staring down at the floor. Tony was wearing only his black leather collar and the thick wide cuffs that had proved strong enough to hold him when he struggled.
A hand settled low on the back of his head – the hand of his master.
“How are you feeling tonight, Boy? You have permission to speak.”
Looking up at Master was not permitted until that express permission had been given, so he answered with his eyes still down. Tony shivered just a little, a cross between anticipation and apprehension.
“I am eager to tell you what happened, Master.”
“In a bit. In a bit, my boy. First tell me how you are feeling. Was I correct in my predictions?”
“Yes, Master. You were. I am feeling what you told me. I am feeling eager to go further with our plans. I’m also feeling sadness at our … breakup.”
His master chuckled softly. “And yet from the beginning I told you we were not destined to remain together. I believe I was extremely precise in my explanations. You know, Dear One, that I agreed to train you but would be training you for another.”
Tony sighed deeply. “Yes, Master. I know.”
Then he asked “Permission to speak freely to you, Master?”
“Certainly.”
“I am going to miss you. You have taught me so much and taken me so far.”
Master lifted his hand from his neck and caressed him, from the top of his head down his neck, trailing his fingers over one bare shoulder.
“I admit I will miss you as well. You have given me a great deal of pleasure.”
“Even when you had to punish me, Master?” Tony allowed a slight smart ass tone to show when he asked that question.
“Oh, my boy, especially when I have to punish you. You suffer so beautifully.” His hand returned to the back of the bowed neck as Tony remained in the correct position.
Tony snorted. He suspected there was a punishment in the near future, as opposed to only a satisfying session tonight. But perhaps Master wouldn’t ask…?
“So tell me about your recent adventures, Boy. Have you initiated what we planned?”
“Yes, Master.”
He went on to describe, in somewhat explicit detail, his two movie nights with Gibbs.
“Have you told me everything, Boy?” The hand tightened just a fraction on his neck.
“Well, I didn’t take his measurements. I may have missed a word or two.” Shit shit shit, Tony thought to himself. I think he caught it. Shit.
“Describe your apparel during the spanking. And look up at me while you speak.”
His master’s voice was sharper. He walked around to the front of the kneeling man. Cupping his chin in his hand, he lifted Tony’s head so he looked him in the eyes.
“I was wearing my t-shirt and, well, my sweats were down at my knees, of course.”
“That’s all you were wearing, Boy?”
His master’s eyes were cold, sending another shiver through Tony’s spine.
“Yes, Master.”
He managed to say it without squeaking.
“Where were your collar and cuffs during the event?”
“In a drawer in the kitchen, Master. There wasn’t time to get them! Really I…”
“Silence. Have I taught you nothing? You tell me you are prepared to take this on and then you show this carelessness, this disrespect to him?”
“I’m sorry, Master. It won’t happen again.” Shit. His master was angry.
“I am disappointed in you, Boy. Extremely disappointed.”
“Yes, Sir.” His master had walked away from him, out of Tony’s line of sight.
“You are fortunate that he is unaware of the insult you offered him. That he is not yet an experienced Master who would have recognized your blatant disrespect.”
“Master, please. That wasn’t it! I didn’t mean to…”
“No more talking. Permission rescinded.”
Tony dropped his head and stared at the floor. Shit. He had really screwed up. This was gonna be bad.
Master was behind him now. “Head up.”
A blindfold came over his head. Tony could feel the fastening being secured behind his head. Total darkness enveloped him. Sometimes he liked the blindfold, liked losing himself in its grasp. But somehow he knew that tonight the blindfold was an enhancement to a coming punishment. Since it was punishment, for his disrespect, he knew that tonight he would not like the blindfold.
“Clasp your hands above your head, Boy and kneel up.”
He complied. Fingers pinched his nipples. He could feel them hardening under the touch of his master. The cold bite of a clamp bit first one, then the other nipple. He whimpered slightly as they were tightened. He heard the soft clink of a chain followed by slight tugs and knew a chain now stretched between the two clamps.
There was more movement behind him. He knew his master was gathering what he needed and he hoped that the next word he heard wouldn’t be…
“Open.”
Damn. He couldn’t keep the whimper from escaping and knew he deserved the sharp tug on the chain that followed. He hated to be gagged. He hated all of them – the small ball gags, the open ring gags, the leather bars and especially, he hated the huge rubber ball that pressed down on his tongue and made him feel sick. And that, of course, was the one that was stuffed into his mouth. He squeezed his eyes tightly under the blindfold, refusing to release any tears. At least this one had air holes running through it so he could breathe there and through his nose. But he hated wearing them. They made him cry, they made him drool and they made him feel deflated. Damn.
He held himself tall though, even if still on his knees. If he whined or squirmed or showed less than a perfect submission to his master, he knew it would go worse for him. His master could take him far, soaring with endorphins and riding an incredible high but he could also deflate him to where he was miserable and pain was just that – pain without the pleasure. He would make his master proud of him again.
“Your safe sign, Boy?”
Master always checked for his safe word or, if he was gagged, his safe sign. He spread his fingers out in his sign, the Vulcan greeting. At least that meant he wasn’t going to be bound into the leather uni-glove behind his back, the one that held his fingers, wrists and arms completely immobile. That hadn’t been one of his favorites either. It did, however, probably mean that Master wanted his back available, for a flogger, strap or whip. Frying pan, fire, frying pan, fire…
“You do realize that you will have to decide on a new safe word shortly. ‘Gibbs’ isn’t going to work for you in the future.” Master chuckled slightly. “Might I suggest one with two or more syllables as well. It is easy to mistake expressions of passion or grunts as a safe word if it is only the one sound, and I know you wouldn’t want to accidently disrupt a session.”
Yeah, he’d think of one. But first he had to get through this night. His master didn’t sound as angry now, while he was arranging his boy to his satisfaction. A tug on the nipple chain drew him up to a standing position and then forward a few steps. Then he was turned. His back pressed against a thin metal pole.
“Arms up and back, around the pole, Boy.”
This was uncomfortable but not unexpected. His cuffs were hooked together behind the pole that was behind his head. This arched his body forward slightly. Usually Master secured him with a belt at his waist – yes. There it was. That pulled him back against the pole, pressing its cold hard surface between his ass cheeks. When Master was planning on leaving him bound in this fashion for a long time, he often wore a butt plug. Tonight, apparently, there was more planned after this. Master left him empty and therefore ready for use. Well, one good sign. However, the tying up still meant a punishment.
There was more action around his wrist cuffs and then his hands were pulled toward the ceiling. Now he was in a stretched bondage, held tightly against a thin but strong metal pole. His hands were pulled higher until he was standing on the balls of his feet. Had he thought Master was less angry with him now? He knew he was wrong about that.
Now his ankles were cuffed, as his master momentarily squatted in front of him. A leg spreader, fortunately a fairly short one, held his feet apart and forced him to rise even further onto his toes. The spreader was chained to the pole, holding his lower regions essentially immobile.
His master leaned on him just a bit as he stood then pressed against his bound boy. A wet tongue teased his nipple while fingers pinched the other side. Slowly, the pressure increased as first, his body responded to the stimulation and then second, the clamps were manually tightened. Tony gasped as sharp pinches brought his concentration to those two precise points on his body. He moaned around the gag.
“One more item and then you are ready.”
He should have known. His master wouldn’t skip this particular form of bondage: plastic cock cage, one that would keep him from getting an erection or ejaculating. Also not one of his favorites. Tony actually preferred to hold back his own orgasms when told to, to be released only when his master allowed, by vocal or manual permission from his master. He held himself tall while he endured his master’s intimate touch. First his balls were separated by the plastic rod, then the ring that held the cage was wrapped around him, then his penis was enclosed in the shaped cage.
“Comfortable, Boy?”
He nodded. There was no pinching. His master was really asking that, because he knew as well as Tony did that Tony was not comfortable at all. But Master, although capable of extreme dominance when he was so inclined, was not one who wanted to cause permanent injury or pain beyond what he meant to inflict. Tony considered the line that some Doms could cross and was appreciative of the care with which he was … err … tortured.
Now he was almost completely immobilized. Only his head could move. He could nod, but he couldn’t even turn his head very much because his own arms were raised tight against his head.
His master’s hands began to touch him in random spots. Sometimes a caress, sometimes a quick pinch. Sometimes, a very long hard twist in a very sensitive area. His under arms and his inner thighs were sensitive areas that were visited several times.
His master left him alone for a few minutes. Tony concentrated on breathing evenly, on relaxing wherever he could as he waited for more attention. He knew his master was there with him. He had, very early in their relationship, promised that he would never leave Tony alone while in bondage. Tony trusted whatever he was told by his master. There had never been any reason to disbelieve him as he had never given the slightest reason for Tony to doubt him. Unfortunately, that also meant that when his master said he deserved punishment that he would, certainly, be punished.
“Unnh.” Tony grunted as a small paddle smacked against his ass. Just one cheek received attention, but it was serious attention. Tony tried to relax and accept the blows. His master was strong. The blows on just the one side soon had him wishing Master would remember that he had two ass cheeks.
This was becoming difficult. The gag was truly annoying. The blindfold was making him more aware of his other senses. His body was stretched vertically with a cold metal pole pressed against his back, arms above his head secured around the same pole. Legs held apart by the stretcher. A thick belt wrapped around his waist, pressing the pole against him. And that evil paddle, still concentrating on the one side. Slap. Slap. Slapping hard in the same damn spot.
Tony struggled in the bonds, but he couldn’t move. His discomfort grew. He started to think about using his safe – no. He never had. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t give in.
His throat started to bother him as he tried to keep his breathing controlled. Master had never been so cruel to him before. Still hitting one spot, just one damn can’t-he-find-another-place-on-my-ass spot. Dammit. That gag. He really wanted to catch his breath. The discomfort, the gag. The gag forcing his lips open, pressing down against his tongue. He could taste the gag.
The uncomfortable feelings grew. He was panicking. He knew he was losing his fight. His stomach was churning. He convulsed, struggling hard against the bonds and he knew he was going to vomit. He could feel the burn rising in his throat. He was going to vomit and choke on his own bile. He was going to die! His mind filled with gross images of his coming death at the unforgiving hands of his master. He had to show his safe sign. Unbidden by his own mind his fingers flashed his sign.
Master was fast. The gag was out of his mouth before he retched again. He could breathe. He swallowed furiously. The pressure was off his tongue. He gulped in several strong breaths, relishing the freedom to breathe and dropped his head down. His chest moved in a sob.
“Have you recovered, Boy? You may speak.”
A warm hand caressed his face.
“Master, I’m sorry I had to sign.” His voice was a whisper.
“Why?”
“I failed you. I couldn’t take what you asked me to take.”
“No, Boy. You succeeded. I wanted you to use your safe sign.”
“What?” Tony lifted his head. He was looking at Master as the blindfold was removed.
“Did you not hear what I said, Boy?”
“No, Master. I heard you but I was confused. I wondered why you wanted me to safe out.”
“Safe, sane and consensual, my boy. It applies to you as well as to me.”
Tony blinked at him.
“You were refusing to recognize your own limits. You allowed me to lead you beyond safety, to harm you. If I had truly been into a scene, not testing you, you could have choked behind the gag. You were so willing to offer your submission that you weren’t listening to your own body.”
“Master? You were testing me?”
“Yes, I was testing you.”
His master pulled his head down into a tender kiss.
“And you passed, by using your safe sign.”
Another kiss.
“Do you think I would allow you to attend to a new master if you refused to safe word? If you refused to be safe with yourself? I had to know that you were capable of trusting yourself and not become totally dependent upon your master.”
His master’s hand caressed his head then lowered to rest on the back of his neck.
“A submissive is not a weak willed person. A submissive is strong enough to bend but not break. Using your safety measure is not breaking. Is this apparent to you now, Boy?”
“You tricked me?”
“Oh no, Boy. I am punishing you for your indiscretion but I was also training you to be safe with your new master.”
Tony blinked at him several times.
“I think I understand more now, Master, about why I have to have a safe word.”
“One’s safe word is not an escape from submission. It is a necessary deliverance when you are overly stressed.”
“I can see that now. Master?”
“Yes, Boy?”
“Was the gag secured?”
“Ah, my boy, that is for me to know.”
“You removed it so quickly.”
“I am an experienced Master. And I will reiterate that I was forcing you to safe word so I was extremely aware of the stress you were experiencing.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Now. Let us return to your punishment. No more speaking, Boy. Instead, your favorite phrase. ‘Sounds if you must.’ Oh – do remind me to advise your new master of that phrase.”
Tony grimaced as the paddle found that same spot again. Soon, he was making those sounds as the paddle repeatedly punished one specific area. Tony screamed under the blows until the paddle finally stopped.
“Now the other side I think, for symmetry.”
Tony glared at him.
“I can put the blindfold on again. Remember, this paddling is because you showed disrespect to your future master by ignoring my rules.”
Rules. More rules. All he needed was more rules. Gibbs had rules. Master had rules. Tony bowed his head, which intensified the strain on his arms. Master was being very hard on him tonight. He lifted his head back up, feeling it press against that pole. He would get through this, as safely as possible, but get through it and make Master proud of him again.
The paddle started its percussion on his other side. It didn’t take very long before the additional stimulation had him screaming out again. He screamed to release the pain, to release the disappointment he had been to Master. He screamed to show his displeasure in having more rules. But mostly, he screamed because his master was punishing him and his screams were his acknowledgement of that fact.
Hmmm. Master stopped the paddle’s persistent blows. Good. If he had permission for words, he would thank him. Of course, that would be considered improper by his master and he would be punished for that. And punishment on top of punishment, which he had managed to earn at least once during his training with Master, was not what he felt like earning at this moment.
The leg stretcher was removed first. He couldn’t stand firmly yet, until his hands were lowered. There was activity at his wrists again and his hands were loosened. He could lower them now, but he knew that would hurt. Instead, he flexed his muscles and stretched them a few times. He lowered his body back onto his heels, scraping against the pole.
Now the belt around his waist was released and he was pulled away from the pole. Hands – his master’s hands – maneuvered him a few steps away from the annoying pole. Those hands caressed his ass, a cold touch on his hot paddled flesh. They moved to his back and pressed.
“Bend over, Boy. Hands on the floor.”
Swat! Oh – he wasn’t fast enough, but his muscles thought they were still wrapped up against a pole. He grunted as he forced himself over into the requested position. He dropped his hands to the floor, his ass high in the air.
Master’s hands played over his ass then probing fingers stroked the crack between. The fingers moved up, then down – touching him in his most private areas, emphasizing his master’s right to access any part of his submissive’s body. His legs were pushed widely apart and that cool hand grabbed his balls, still held by the plastic of the cage. Tony whimpered as the hand toyed with very sensitive skin. Upside down, his ass still burning, his balls and cock held in the grip of hard plastic, Tony wondered when his master would find him sufficiently punished.
“You do understand, Boy, about why I set up this rule. This rule about wearing your collar and cuffs whenever you are in a submissive state.”
“No-- yeow!” The pinch was acute agony, delivered in a very tender area. Bad mistake on his part.
“I have not given you permission to speak. You may nod to indicate agreement or you may request permission to speak. You know that, Boy.”
Upside down, Tony nodded. This position was straining his muscles in opposite directions now.
“Do you understand symbols, Boy? Your NCIS badge, for example, is a symbol of your authority. A symbol of your power, it could be said. Your authorization to do the things that you do.”
It was difficult to concentrate on the words when a cool wet finger was circling his hole.
“Your collar and your cuffs are your symbols. Your indicators of your submission.”
The finger entered his hole. Damn, that felt good. Finally.
“You are a natural submissive, Boy. But when you are expressing that portion of your personality, you must indicate with such, both to your own self and to your master.”
The finger pressed in deeper, twisted and pulled out. Tony almost whined. His cock was still enclosed in the cage, which was excruciatingly tight right now.
“You are indicating a release from the duties of your outward life, from your identities there, and taking on the responsibilities of service to your master and respect for yourself as a submissive.”
A chuckle behind him, followed by the sounds of a condom being placed in position.
“And because we are speaking of service to your master…”
Hands gripped his ass and he was pulled apart. A cock entered his hole. Tony almost groaned with pleasure at the initial sensations. He wished his own cock was free but he would definitely, and submissively, take what he was given. He pressed back as best he could, from his upside down and awkward position. Master was showing his dominance. Normally, he preferred to take his submissive in bed or have him serve orally. But now, his master’s hands gripped him strongly as he used his submissive. The cock moved in and out, in and out in a steady rhythm for some time, then increased the tempo as his master enjoyed using him.
Tony loved this part of his service. But then, Tony loved sex. He loved serving his master after a spanking, a paddling, a strapping, a flogging. He loved offering himself in so many ways to his master and then, when he was at the high his master’s attentions gave him, he loved finishing the service with sex. With giving back whatever his master requested. With proper and respectful and usually very hot sex.
For just a moment he thought of Gibbs. Would he accept the role of Master? Would he accept the responsibility? The care, the consideration necessary to dominate a submissive? He hoped so. Master had said they would do their best, and Master had never lied to him.
Of course, that ultimate decision would be up to Gibbs.
Master continued to use him. Tony dragged his thoughts back to his own ass. What was he thinking? This might be one of the last times Master used him and here he was, allowing himself to be distracted by what was merely a possible future.
He groaned, letting his master hear the sound of his pleasure, letting his master know that he was serving him. He pressed back against him, opening himself further. Taking Master in and giving himself up.
The master gripped him tighter and pressed deeply into him. Master, as much as he talked, was very subtle in his orgasms, but Tony knew the procedure. He knew his master had just ejaculated inside of him. He waited patiently, still shivering in his own participation, knowing Master would use his support in this position. He braced himself, holding the replete body that was draped over him.
After a few seconds, his master’s hand caressed his back. Master stood, still breathing heavily but back in control of himself.
“You may stand, Boy.”
Tony obeyed. The other man walked over in front of him, bent over slightly and released the plastic cage. Tony’s cock sprang to immediate and needy attention.
“Not yet, Boy.”
Tony bowed slightly to his Master then indicated, non-verbally, that he would clean him.
“A washcloth would suffice.”
Master was prone on the bed, the condom removed and disposed of, when Tony returned with a damp washcloth. Carefully, he cleaned his master then knelt at the side of the bed. Master placed his hand on his boy’s head.
“I hope you learned your lesson, Boy. This was an extremely important one.”
His gentle hand caressed his boy’s hair, easing the tension between them. Again and again Tony felt the caress. He loved being touched, being stroked and petted, and his master was well aware of that. The caresses slowed. Master was almost asleep as Tony pulled the covers over him.
“May I speak, Master?”
“Yes, Boy.”
“Do you want me to stay with you tonight?”
“No, no, Boy. Go on home. Take off your cuffs and collar when you leave my property and, promise me that you will never overlook wearing them when submitting again.”
“Yes, Master. I promise.”
“And Boy?”
“Master?”
“Not tonight.”
A hand waved in the direction of his groin. Tony sighed. Master would remember to forbid him release. Well, when morning ‘came’, he would too.
(a couple of days later)
(On)
“Do I have to do this, Ducky? Yeah. Yeah. I can hear you. I know, I promised and I will honor that promise.
So I thought I would turn the tables on him. I asked him over to my place. Yeah, DiNozzo. We’d gotten into a discussion with McGee and Abby about technology and old fashioned tools. DiNozzo wanted to see my tools and I mean my woodworking tools, Duck. So I told him to feel free to stop by.
He was the usual DiNozzo. Turtleneck shirt, jeans, goofy smile. The only odd thing – he brought pizza and a six pack, but the six pack was Coke. I was surprised that it wasn’t beer.
I showed him the tools, what I did with them, where I had used them, what my plans were for finishing the boat. He listened, carefully and quietly and asked intelligent questions. Everything was extremely normal until I put my arms around him to correct his grip on one of the sanding blocks. He had his fingers where he would scrape his knuckles – well, you don’t need to know that.
Dammit Duck. He started to shake. I had my arms around him and he was shaking like a leaf.
“DiNozzo? Tony?” I asked him what was wrong.
“I’m fine, M-Gibbs.” Tony answered. “You just caught me off balance there for a minute.”
So I showed him whatever it was I was going to show him and worked next to him, watching him. He didn’t seem fine to me but I wasn’t going to call him on it again. At least not yet.
We worked for maybe another hour when I suggested we take a break. DiNozzo was too quiet the whole time. I mean, I usually work quietly except for lately, when I’m doing your recordings like I am now. But I’ve never heard – I guess I should say ‘never not heard’ DiNozzo for so long. He had moved to the opposite side of the boat so I went to check on him.
You probably guessed it, Duck. There he was, naked except for that collar and cuffs set, spread out against the boat, bent over against it. His skin looked amazing - framed by the red color of the wood. He looked like a painting, an erotic image decorating the side of my boat.
I was drawn to him. My hand reached out to touch his ass, but at the last moment I moved to his back. He shivered where our skin met, like a horse shaking off a fly. Then he moved a fraction closer as if he desired my touch.
“DiNozzo. Explain all this.”
He shook his head and spread himself out even more, against the boat. He widened his stance, pushing his feet further apart. Moving his feet made me look down. On the floor was a condom packet and a tube of lube. I guess I had my explanation.
I stood there for a minute, my hand resting against his back, staring down at those two items between his feet. I could feel his breathing. His back was taut against my hand, his muscles clearly visible.
“DiNozzo. Look at me.”
I saw him take a deep breath. He turned his head in my direction. His eyes were closed but then he opened them, although he wasn’t looking at me.
“Tony. Please look at me.”
Now his gaze met mine. I had rarely ever seen him look this way. He was frightened. Scared shitless. I’ve seen him nervous, upset, silly, excited, angry but I’d never before seen him as shit-assed scared as he was right then. And I guessed I knew why. He was afraid I would refuse.
“You really want this?”
He lowered his eyes and nodded once.
“You’re sure?”
I admit it, Duck. I wanted him to say “yes.” By now, I wanted him. I wanted to put my cock into him and fuck him. Ream his ass.
“Say something, Tony. Say it to me.”
“Please.” It was a mere whisper. He licked his lips first then said it again, this time as a question. “Please?”
Yeah. I did it.
I pressed against him, rubbing my package against his bare ass. I was hard already. He looked so damned delicious, spread out against that wood. Hugging that wood. I put on the condom with nervous fingers but by the time I managed to get the tube open and squeezed some out – still haven’t found where the cap landed – I had myself almost under control. I made sure he was ready for me – stretched him open with my fingers. Coated him thickly with the lube.
Damn, Ducky. I don’t mean for this to be a porn story but damn – he felt so good. So hot and tight. He groaned with me as I entered him. I went in deep and just held it for a minute. I waited until I felt him relax around me and then I couldn’t hold back any more.
I guess all I can say about what happened next is that the boat held up.
Even now I find it all hard to believe – me, pounding deep into DiNozzo. Hanging on to his hips for balance. Finding that rhythm. Gasping for breath even as I bit down on his shoulder. Spraying into him and still not believing what I was doing. But damn, it felt good.
Have I grossed you out, Duck? Made your bow tie twirl? Well, you made me promise I’d tell you and that’s what I did. I fucked my second in command. I screwed him in my basement, up against my boat. And I felt great.
I tried to grab him, thought maybe I’d jerk him off but he ducked away and came back, cock bobbing in front of him, hands holding a wet wash cloth.
I was still breathing heavily, leaning against my boat, when he knelt in front of me, removed the condom and washed me. All I could do was stare down at him. This beautiful man that I had just screwed. Broad shoulders, hairy flat chest. Lean defined legs. And that ass. That ass.
He kept up that ‘head down’ thing, no longer looking at me even when I asked if I could do ... do something for him. He shook his head and walked over to his pile of clothes – now I could see them in the corner. He flipped out the jeans and stepped into them commando, then quickly put his shirt back on. The long sleeves and turtleneck covered the collar and cuffs, but, while I watched, he reached under the shirt and removed the collar followed by the cuffs. He stuffed them into a back pocket.
I asked “What the hell is going on, DiNozzo? With the collar? Cuffs?”
He just shook his head. Then he picked up the sanding block, grinned his goofy grin at me and asked “Where now, Boss?”
I pointed out a rough spot. Then I walked over to my bench, sat down and poured myself half a mug of bourbon. I drank that down and just sat there, listening to the rhythmic sound of sanding. When my heart slowed down, I joined him again. We worked side by side until about midnight, when he thanked me for the time I spent with him and left.
I’m still sanding, Duck, and talking to your recorder. But now, bed, I think.”
(Off)
Because of This part two ... after you comment!!!(please)
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-06-21 05:16 am (UTC)This is great :) The way you tell is really cool. Letting Gibbs tell the story, I don't know where you got the idea from, but it's a good one :)
I know I said I didn't have time to read this week, and I don't, so I'll probably be a little late for school today and I think I'll have to skip breakfast, but this is definitely worth it :)
I'm looking forward to the part :) Hopefully you'll post at around the same time so it'll be there when I get up tomorrow morning :) I think I might get up a little earlier tomorrow so I'll have time for both breakfast and reading ;)
no subject
Date: 2010-06-21 02:11 pm (UTC)Well, my muse and I argued for a while and she won - Gibbs tells some of the story (coz he won't be there for all of it...) but because I was setting it up as Gibbs as a newbie, well, that gave me a strong POV for him (not that Gibbs ever has a weak POV on anything...).
Yes, I plan on posting the 'parts' at night at home (with only kittehs to bother me)and the links at work, where the phone and all sorts of shit - I mean highly important stuff - bothers me.
Tomorrow's is about the same length, part three is longer, then part four about this length again. And I have a new icon I made for part four!
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Date: 2010-06-21 02:59 pm (UTC)I think I'm going to go back to watching Stargate. I have been watching Stargate ever since I came back from school (early since our teacher wasn't there) except for two episodes of NCIS which they were nice enough to send on the TV :)
Hope LJ doesn't fight you when you try to post the next part :)
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Date: 2010-06-21 04:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-21 05:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-21 04:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-21 04:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-21 05:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-21 05:34 pm (UTC)Thanks for commenting! I adore comments....
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Date: 2010-06-21 06:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-21 06:31 pm (UTC)I'll post the next chapter when I get home tonight!
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Date: 2010-06-21 06:48 pm (UTC)I love it from Gibbs' point of view and it's great to have a story where he doesn't know what he's doing.
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Date: 2010-06-21 06:56 pm (UTC)But I am glad you are giggling - I was afraid some wouldn't see it ... or at least go along with it. (and they may not, but that's the joy of IDIC, is it not?)
By the way I just ADORE your icon!
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Date: 2010-06-21 07:00 pm (UTC)funangst.*pets the icon* I swear this icon is the greatest conversation starter
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Date: 2010-06-21 07:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-21 07:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-21 07:12 pm (UTC)(and my eye....)
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Date: 2010-06-21 07:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-21 07:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-21 07:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-21 07:59 pm (UTC)Thank you for your comment! (adds to collection)
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Date: 2010-06-21 09:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-21 09:33 pm (UTC)But glad you are looking forward to the rest. Merci pour commenting.
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Date: 2010-06-21 09:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-21 09:45 pm (UTC)I started doing that because I was losing where I was, and the timing in this story is very important. You should have seen my notes.....
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Date: 2010-06-22 12:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-22 12:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-22 12:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-22 01:17 am (UTC)(LJ is giving me problems... part two may have to be divided...bummer!)
Edit: YAY! It was too big because I had my word doc on my screen at 150%. When I changed it to 100%, then copied and pasted, it worked. There are just so many ways I can screw up, aren't there?
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Date: 2010-06-22 02:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-22 02:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-22 11:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-23 12:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-23 01:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-27 12:43 pm (UTC)and I am learning so much too (this is a new area for me to write in...so thanks for that as well!)
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Date: 2010-06-27 02:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-07 02:35 am (UTC)Good Spoon Kitteh!!!!
Date: 2010-07-07 02:54 am (UTC)I did giggle when I wrote - I mean when Gibbs spoke that phrase. I tried hard (hopefully succeeded) to make all those words sound correct coming out of our favorite 'functional mute' because he was going to have to talk LOTS. I just didn't think it would be as dramatic a story if it was always 'Gibbs thought...'. And Gibbs is a funny guy!
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Date: 2011-07-19 07:28 pm (UTC)