Turning the Tables [fiction], part 1

The windows were covered by heavy blackout drapes that blocked the orange glow of the street lamp outside. The only light came from a pair of tall purple candles set in waist-high iron vines. The corners of the room were cloaked in shadow, disguising all the things that were there when it was in use during the day. A splash of flickering light showed off the only thing that needed to be seen now - a dark X, standing alone on the floor, a cross made from deeply stained wood.

I ran my hand over its surface, smiling as I felt its silky-smooth perfection gliding underneath my skin. Simultaneously soft and hard, cool but not cold, the sensation made my heart beat faster. I stepped closer and rested my cheek against the wood. My eyes closed.

"You like that?" came a voice from beside me. Aiden stood a few feet away, just close enough to the light that I could pick him out now that I knew where to look.

"It's beautiful," I said.

"I knew you'd appreciate it." He stepped closer, and now I could see that he was shirtless and barefoot, wearing only a pair of olive-green tac pants and a black leather belt. His dark hair was tied back in a ponytail.

The small propane heater had done a good job, and the air was pleasantly warm despite the late-fall chill outside. I stepped back as he came toward me, away from the cross, wanting to enjoy a few more moments in my own space before he asserted his will on me.

"Come here," he said, pointing at the floor in front of the cross. I looked at the spot, at the worn grey concrete, recently swept but still dirty. I could still feel the last time, the cold stone on my chest, the grit biting into my cheek, the hours of confinement. I took a slow, deep breath and flexed my hands, looked around, stalling.

"Here, pet." His voice came more sternly now, not angry yet, but not willing to be patient with my games. I rolled my wrists, knowing they would be stiff and hurting soon. The cross waited without judgment, shining in the candlelight, shackles open and ready. They would be cold, and hard, and I was still aching...I didn't want it.

I barely stopped myself from shaking my head, knowing that kind of sass would only bring trouble. My eyes found Aiden, standing with arms crossed over his chest, and my feet stepped forward without my explicit permission. I didn't want the torture, but I wanted him. His warm skin, his touch, his low hypnotic whisper in my ear.

I realized as I approached just how short my high heels made him, and stifled a giggle. That flicker of inversion made my breath catch, and suddenly I had a wonderful, terrible idea. I grinned, and Aiden smiled in return.

"Good girl," he said. I stepped into my designated spot on the floor, rolled my shoulders for effect, and reached slowly upward into the edges of the darkness. He wasn't particularly on his guard, but he had the advantage in both strength and positioning. I'd have to be fast.

His chest pressed against my back, squeezing me into the hard wood of the cross, and his hand slid up my right arm and closed around my wrist. I arched my back and moaned. It was calculated, a distraction, and it worked. He grabbed my left hip with his other hand, pulling me into him. I twisted my right hand, freeing myself and grabbing onto his forearm in one motion. Lunging upward, I pushed his arm into the cuff with my right hand and snapped it shut with my left.

His weight came away from my body as he stumbled sideways, startled and off balance. I turned and put my hands on his hips to steady him, and he pinned me down with a glare and a raised eyebrow.

"Really." It wasn't a question, but I answered anyway.

"Oh yes. Really." My hands took a stroll up his sides, to his chest and then his neck. He stepped forward and pinned my back to the cross with his body, nuzzling his face into my shoulder and then taking a bite of the side of my neck. His free hand grabbed my hair and pulled my head sideways, exposing more flesh, and I cried out as his biting got deeper. My breath grew short as his teeth pierced my skin, and I could already picture the mark it was going to leave.

"That was very clever," he whispered in my ear, and I took a moment to breathe. "But you're going to pay for your little trick."

"Trick?" I said, shoving myself forward and ducking out of his reach. "You make it sound like I'm kidding." I approached him again, hugging him from behind, then grabbed the body of the cross and pulled us both forward, squeezing him between it and myself. Holding on tight with one hand, I grabbed his free arm with my left and pushed upward. For a moment I thought I saw success, but he was stronger than I, and he pulled his arm in tight to his side.

"You will ask nicely," he said, and I laughed abruptly, surprised.

"Excuse me?" I demanded.

"Ask," he repeated. My first reaction was to balk, but I knew I wasn't going to win the strength contest, and I didn't have a backup plan. I paused for a long moment, then decided I had nothing to lose.

"Aiden," I said, "Please lift your arm."

On the list of reactions I was expecting, obedience was near the bottom. When he lifted his arm and rested it against the arm of the cross, my mouth dropped open. I quickly closed the shackle, unnerved but not willing to show it.

"Thank you," I said calmly, biting back the question.

"I'm willing to let you make your own mistakes," he said, by way of explanation. "You'll remember this lesson so much better when you learn it the hard way."

Wiping the vestiges of surprise from my face, I walked around the cross and touched my nose to his ear. "You just wait and see what gets learned the hard way," I whispered.

He smirked, and it might have been one of the candle flames popping, but I could have sworn I heard a snort behind the smile. I raised my eyebrows.

"I do not appreciate your insolence," I told him. "Your faith in me is absolutely underwhelming."

"You're playing with fire," he said, and I glanced over his shoulder.

"Yes," I agreed, walking behind him. "I suppose I am at that." Stepping on the base of one of the black iron vines, I held onto the top with one hand and gently wrested one of the purple tapers free with the other. It hissed and spit and sent a shower of lavender wax cascading over my knuckles. I turned and stood for a moment, admiring the scene in front of me, the beautiful half-naked boy ready and waiting. The dim light cut deep shadows into his skin, outlining his spine and his muscles. I swept his ponytail over his shoulder so I wouldn't get wax in it, wishing I could admire this sight indefinitely.

I lifted the candle, then paused as a thought occurred to me. Indefinitely was impractical, but this moment would last as long as I chose. He wasn't going anywhere. The time was all mine.

Glad that he couldn't see the silly grin on my face, I shifted my weight to one side and stood still, looking him up and down, reveling in the sensation of choosing my own time, drawing out the moment until I found myself looking forward to the next one.

At last I approached him again, resting the tips of my fingers lightly on his back and drawing them up his spine, over his shoulder blade, up the side of his neck, to his face. I wrapped my fingers gently underneath his jaw and tilted his head up, bringing the edge of his ear between my lips. I teased with the tip of my tongue until I felt his breath quicken, then took his ear in my teeth and bit down lightly.

"Playing with fire is fun," I whispered, then stepped back. I held the candle high and tipped it sideways. The wax fell through the air, splashed against Aiden's shoulder, and skittered downward before freezing into a perfect purple rivulet. It was pretty, but he had barely reacted. I lowered the candle a few inches and tried again.

This time he twitched slightly as I dripped another line next to the first one. I ran one finger over the cooled wax, extending an imaginary line down to his belt, stroking his skin while I watched the flame dance in my other hand. Still sneaking my free hand slowly and teasingly under the waistband of his pants, I brought the candle close to the shoulder I hadn't decorated yet and tipped it over.

His jump was clearer this time, and I heard his breath catch.

"You know, technically," he said, "This is playing with wax, not playing with fire."

I glanced into the dark corner where I knew the fire bucket was sitting, thought for a moment, then reached up and put the candle in Aiden's hand.

"Hold this," I said, as if he had any choice in the matter, then walked out of the light. It didn't take me long to find what I was looking for, even feeling around in the dark. I went around to the darker side of the cross, put a finger under his chin, and lifted his face into a long, slow, deep kiss. He couldn't see my hands, ready and waiting, as I pulled away and said, "Now tell me something."

"What's that?" he answered, but the last consonant was muffled by cloth as I stuffed a bandanna in his open mouth. Reaching over his shoulders, I tied it snugly behind his head.

"I don't care about your technicalities," I said, placing the tip of my nose against his. My lips brushed his as I spoke, but he couldn't kiss me with his mouth full of paisley. "If I want to play with wax, I will. If I want to play with fire, I will. And if I want to call the whole damn thing a swim in the river, I will do that too."

His eyes were grinning.

"You talk too much," I said. "Your body tells me everything I need to know."

I pulled the burning candle from his hand and resumed my place at his back.

"Such a beautiful blank canvas," I said, considering my next move. "Such a beautiful, quiet, blank canvas."

"Mmf," came the reply, and I giggled and tipped the candle low over his back. He jumped as the wax ran down his skin, flowing onto his belt before hardening into decoration.

"Oh dear," I said. "These are a problem." Then, "Hold this." I set the candle back in his hand before wrapping my arms around him and slowly unbuckling the belt. I tugged on it teasingly, pulled the prong from the hole and let it loosen, then slid my hands under his waistband without undoing his pants. Kneeling down behind him, I ran my tongue slowly up his spine, bringing myself upright as I went; between his shoulder blades, to the nape of his neck. Then I pulled the belt out of the belt loops, let it fall to the floor, and stood up, running my hands up his stomach. My cheek rested on his back for a moment while I played with his nipple ring, and then I raked my fingernails down his chest.

"Hmm!" he said.

"What was that?" I asked.

"Hmm."

"I'll keep that in mind," I said, grinning. I reached around him again and unbuttoned his pants. "Spread your legs." He did, and I pulled the pants to the floor. He lifted one leg, stepped out of the pants, and as I leaned forward to pull them away, snapped his legs together and trapped my head between his calves.

I stifled a god damn it and sat still. Fighting would give him too much satisfaction, especially when I lost.

"You really want to play it that way," I said. My voice squeezed awkwardly through the pressure on my neck. It didn't sound intimidating at all. He smirked audibly through his gag while the ankle shackles mocked me from too far away.

I looked around and spotted the belt on the floor beside me. Flinging one end like a whip, I was able to loop it around the left leg of the cross and grab it by both ends. Scooting my knees forward while pulling on the belt moved us across the floor, and I managed fasten it around Aiden's left leg and cinch it against the cross. That gave me the extra hold I needed to pry his right leg away and remove my head from its embarrassing position between his shins.

I took a moment to fix my hair, hoping he could feel my glare digging into his back.

"Any more moves like that," I said, glad to hear my voice working properly again, "And I'm going to go find something else to do. You will stay here to think about what you've done."

"Mm."

"I'm going to assume, for your sake, that you agreed." I leaned down, more cautiously this time, and grabbed his right ankle. "Over here." He moved his leg out against the leg of the cross, and I shackled him to it.

"Good boy." His other leg was secure enough with the belt, so I left it as it was. "But you're not going to just get away with that. Humiliating me and messing up my hair is very bad behavior, and bad boys must be punished."

I hadn't been the one to set up the dungeon, but I had an idea of where the things I wanted might be. I grabbed the candle from his hand and left him to wonder what I was looking for while I searched. A shiver of reflected candlelight brought my attention to a small table, where I found a wonderful selection of toys. A smile slid over my face as I ran my fingers through the pile of things - some shiny, some fuzzy, some cold, some sharp. So many to choose from.

Uncertain where to begin, my attention floated from here to there until a deep red color caught my eye. I picked up the flogger, handmade for me at Christmas by the boy now bound and gagged in front of me. I wondered for a moment if it was a desecration to turn it back on its usual handler, then decided that was exactly the point, and any other wouldn't be nearly as special.

Candle in one hand, flogger in the other, I caressed the red suede with my thumb. My heels clicked loudly on the floor and echoed around the quiet room as I returned to my waiting victim.

[to be continued]