Howdy this is a standalone that I found on my laptop when clearing out files. It is a BDSM relationship between two consenting male adults. Sorry if you're waiting for Hooking the Hockey Player. I've been sleeping better and I am currently moving house and college is restarting for the year but never fear, insomnia is always waiting for me. Hope you enjoy, Artie.
*****
I stood outside the door, furiously chewing on my third stick of gum. I had hosed myself down with Febreeze and then worried that it would tip him off, so I rolled the windows down and blasted AC on the way home. I spat out my gum in the bushes; he wouldn't know.
One more deep breath and I opened the door. The routine had been the same for nearly four years. Walk through the door, close it softly. Take off my clothes and place them in the waiting basket. Pick up my collar that is waiting on the table and put it on. Kneel. They were simple instructions but they meant the world to me. Sir had first explained to me that I was laying myself bare to him in all things. That each time I put on my collar I was doing it for myself, renewing my commitment to be his and only his.
Kneeling was about lowering myself, not in status. I was not below Sir but it was a physical reminder to be submissive that I would submit myself to his direction. It was about presenting myself gracefully and proudly as I should be in my submission. I was also at eye level with his crotch which reminded me that I was here in service of his pleasure. Sir would say our mutual pleasure but I had long since found out that I was happier serving him than at any other time.
Usually I did all these tasks with grace and ease, familiarity bringing deft movements. Today I felt twitchy and uncomfortable. I felt like a liar as I put on my collar. I had disobeyed him. I had broken one of the cardinal rules. I kneeled, waiting for him. I heard his shoes on the hardwood as he rounded the corner. He knew I would have kneeled waiting for him for hours but he would never do that to me.
There was silence for a moment, I could see nothing but his shoes. "Something you want to tell me boy?" Fuck me, of course he knows; he always knows. How does he know?
"No Sir." I blurted out. Shit, I could see his bearing change slightly, he stood a little taller. My mouth watered and my cock hardened as his dominance washed over me.
"I'm choosing to think that you accidently spoke otherwise I think that would be a lie. Do you want to try that again sub?" There was the barest hint of ice in his voice, as his disapproval rolled over me. There was no way to win this one, telling him the truth would be bad. Lying to him would be infinitely worse.
"I smoked, Sir." I said in a small voice.
Silence met my admission, I wanted to look up at him and plead forgiveness but I knew that breaking protocol would not be a way to endear myself to him or to get out of punishment. I could still see his feet in front of me, he stood unmoving. I begged him internally to do something, say something and relieve me of the misery of not knowing how angry he was.
"Eyes up," Relief that I would get to see him quickly changed to sorrow. He was almost completely impassive but his displeasure radiated from his every pore. Even knowing that I was in deep shit he looked amazing. His arms were folded over his chest as he gazed down at me showing of the muscles of his arms and chest.
He was still in his scrubs. He was a doctor who worked in the emergency room at a local hospital. It was where we met. I had been in college then, a thin reedy thing who without supervision had been continually fucking up. My grades had been in the garbage because I hardly went to class. I hadn't been a junky but I was certainly going down that path. I had crash landed in the ER my junior year after a party at my fraternity.
Binge drinking had been a way of life for me, a competition with my liver to see who could hold out the longest. I usually lost. I certainly had that night. An ambulance had been called to collect me, because I was incoherent and falling all over the place when the cops came to break up the party.
I didn't remember any of that though, I had been blackout levels of intoxicated since the pre-party where one of the pledges had sucked me off. Totally his choice, not a hazing thing.
I awoke lying on my side on a cot in the hospital. My mouth tasted disgusting and my head rang. Even the controlled noise of the ER was intensely painful to my rum and beer soaked brain. I looked down at myself: covered in my own vomit. Great. Just then a nurse noticed I was awake and bustled over to me, starting to take my blood pressure and various other stats. She did this with bristling efficiency; I doubted that I was in the first hundred college students she had seen that month.
She wrote some things down on her clipboard and then informed me in a clipped tone, "Dr. Anderson will be around so see you shortly." Then she was off to the next patient, it wasn't even that busy in the ER but she looked seriously overworked. I wasn't hurt that her bedside manner was less than warm, no one really wants to be around a person covered in upchuck. Sighing I reached into my pocket to find my phone. Nothing. Patting myself down, I couldn't find my wallet or my phone but I found my trusty box of cigarettes and a lighter.
I briefly panicked at the thought of losing my phone and wallet but figured they were probably at the frat house. The brightness of the hallway was too much for my fragile brain so I closed my eyes and tried not to feel dizzy; it felt like I was in the middle of an ocean during a hurricane.
A low clearing of a throat made me blink my eyes open and my mouth fall open. A man stood in front of me, wavy blonde hair falling over his light green eyes. He looked fit, like he ran every morning. I later found out that daily runs were just a small part of his routine.
I shrank under his intense scrutiny, "How are you feeling Mr. Marley?"
"Better than I deserve," I responded all too aware now that I looked terrible.
He smirked at my answer and nodded as if agreeing, "You came in last night with a .35 BAC; you could have died." I must have looked unimpressed because he pulled out a breathalyzer and had me blow into it. "You just blew a .15 BAC. You being this coherent shows that this is something that happens often." He said it with such a disdainful air, I dropped my eyes from him. I didn't know it then but that was the first signal to him that I was a submissive.
"You need to take better care of yourself and have your friends look out for you okay?" Dr. Anderson spoke and rested a hand on my shoulder, I'm sure it was meant to be a comforting gesture but even through a terrible hangover, I hardened. At twenty-one I didn't have much control over any part of myself, though I've since learned control over most of myself I've never been able to control my reaction to him.
After being discharged, I was faced with the truth. I had no way to get home. Without a phone I couldn't call a brother to come get me and without a wallet I couldn't pay for a cab. I sat down outside the hospital on a bench and shook out a cigarette. Smoking always cleared my mind: the nicotine and the ritual of lighting it and the deep inhales and exhales.
Three drags in and I already was feeling better and had formulated a plan: I was going to call a taxi company using the ER's phone and then pay when I got there. If I couldn't find my wallet fast enough, one of the guys would probably help me out.
My cigarette was snatched out of my hand and grinded out before I could even recognize what was happening. Indignant, I blinked up at the looming body of Dr. Anderson. His face was calm but determined. "What the fuck was that?" I asked angrily.
"I didn't spend all night getting thrown up on to make sure you didn't aspirate into your lungs only to have to fill them with tar." He said simply his eyebrow arching at my tone. I wouldn't dare curse at him now, I doubt I would be able to sit for several days. "Also this is a hospital, so it's a no smoking area."
"Oh," I shook my head at my idiocy, of course I wasn't allowed to be smoking, "I'm sorry; I guess I'm a little out of it. Did I really throw up on you?"
