Part: NEW: 1/17
Summary: Tom and Chakotay enact a Victorian drama on the holodeck.
Disclaimer: They're Paramount's, damn it. Story's mine. Copyright, 1999, 2000. Inspired (?) by Kate's discovery on the Internet of certain Victorian devices for sale. Encouraged big time by Britta and Kate. Mandragora spent a great deal of effort in educating me on the difference between Americanisms and Britishisms as well as customs and mores of England. Thanks to Britta's eagle eye and thanks to others who provided very helpful comments and observations. All mistakes that remain, however, are all mine.
Warning: No one under 18. Sex between men. Bad words. Squick factors, such as rectal thermometers, enemas, catheters, rectal dilators, spanking, D/s, BDSM, Tom torture. You've been warned! Descriptions of the Victorian characters' families are meant to reflect 19th C. families rather than the little we know of the canon families of Tom Paris and Chakotay.
Feedback: All is welcome (except the sort where you read the warning, ignored it, and want to complain about the content)!
Archive/Post: ASC/EM, cpsg, allslash Belynda's archive, slashkink, Amothea's archive, BLTS.
Web sites: Many of my stories are in both NC-17 versions and R versions.
November 26, 1999 - Jan. 26, 2000
"I'm a little nervous about this," Tom confessed as he and Chakotay ate dinner in the mess hall.
"I mean, a whole week in a holonovel. And it's one I didn't even program."
"You can't do everything," Chakotay reminded him with a grin before he turned serious. "The whole point of this experience is to work on your trust issues."
"Oh, thank you, great counselor. I needed that reminder."
Tom's sarcasm made Chakotay pull back a bit. "We don't have to do this, Tom."
The tall pilot wiped his hands together nervously, all but abandoning the food on his plate. "I know. But you spent all this time putting it together. And the captain made an exception for us." Tom's humor surfaced, "Maybe there'll be a red alert."
"It's a quiet part of space."
Tom took a deep breath. "Like I said, I'm just nervous. You haven't told me everything about what I can expect."
"Let's take care of that now. We're going back to Victorian England. Thanks to the holoprogram, we'll look about ten years younger. And I made a minor adjustment to your body."
"Minor adjustment? What did you do? Make me shorter than you?" Tom asked, bemused by the idea.
"No. Our heights are the same. But your hair is a little blonder, longer..."
"And yours has no grey in it."
Chakotay's dimples flashed, "Got it in one."
"So, seriously, what did you do to me?"
"You remember the devices I showed you?"
Tom gave him a look halfway between a grimace and a smirk. "Yeah? You said we'd use them."
"And you agreed."
"Right," Tom drawled as if inviting Chakotay to explain further.
"So that change in your body is to provide a justification for their use in this Victorian setting."
A doubtful, "Yes," came from Tom.
"You read the literature. These devices were for treating constipation and for stretching small passageways." There was a glint in Chakotay's eyes.
"I also read that if you encountered difficulties you were to rub on cocaine," Tom countered.
"It was legal then."
"So, I'm supposed to be this young, constipated virgin?" Tom almost choked. "And I'm going to enjoy this?"
Chakotay grinned at Tom's exaggerated disbelief. "I think you will love the process."
"I'd better," Tom muttered. "And I'll trust you so much when it's all over that we'll be able to...?" Tom's voice dropped off, believing Chakotay could fill in the missing words. In his head, Tom supplied, 'do what I haven't allowed but have wanted to do so much'.
Ignoring Tom's immediate implied question, Chakotay tackled Tom's more general concerns. "Let me tell you more about our characters and what you can expect."
Tom listened in circumspect fascination as Chakotay continued. "I think this is one holonovel character you might find it a stretch to play." With a rueful look, Chakotay acknowledged, "And the same could be true for me. It's something we might remain aware of as we act out this story."
Chakotay reached for a PADD next to his plate. "Here's some of my research on Victorian speech, customs, culture, and so forth. It should help in your role playing."
"Uh-huh." With a shrug, Tom accepted the PADD and made a face. "Homework."
"Research," Chakotay corrected with a grin.
Three days later, holding their Victorian outfits draped over their arms, Tom and Chakotay waited outside the holodecks. Two teams of Parisees Squares players exited. When the room was empty, Chakotay ordered up his holonovel and placed a hand to Tom's back. "Shall we?"
Muttering to himself, "Trust, Tommy, trust," Tom led the way inside.
End Part 1 Prologue
Part: NEW: 2/17
Summary and Warnings: See part 1.
Widower, Sir Charles Jackson looked up from the leather-bound book he'd been reading. Early afternoon sunlight slanted through the high library windows brightly illuminating the darkly appointed room. As his secretary, Alec Scott, introduced the tall youth who entered the room, Sir Charles rose. For a moment, the young man stood lighted like a fire, his red-gold hair a halo around a fair face that announced northern ancestry.
Sir Charles sized up the would-be prospect for the tutor to his two young sons. He saw a very tall, light-boned youngster with wrists showing below jacket cuffs as if he had recently outgrown the still serviceable suit. There were penetrating, clear blue eyes, narrow shoulders, and a slender torso atop lengthy legs. Completing his inventory, Sir Charles smiled and shook the young man's hand. He found a good grip tempered by a shy demeanor.
"So. Your name is Thomas Payne."
"Yes, sir, but no relation," the youth told him before he could ask about a possibly famous ancestor.
Sir Charles motioned him to the brown leather chair at an angle to his own and the young man sat gracefully, despite being obviously ill at ease. Picking up a heavy paper beside his chair, Sir Charles reviewed the handsomely prepared resume. "Did you write this yourself?"
Nodding, Sir Charles noted the error-free document. Although the resume confirmed that the young man was twenty-two, he appeared barely eighteen to Sir Charles' thirty-four year old eyes. With a sigh, he checked that the requisite university education had been attained. Excellent education. A few well-placed inquiries had told him this prospective tutor was the youngest child of Admiral Owen Payne. The boy had had his heart set on a naval career, but unspecified health problems had prevented his pursuit of such a dream. "So. What makes you think you can be a tutor?"
To his surprise, the boy blushed, yet regardless of his discomfort, he kept a steady gaze on Sir Charles himself. "Well, sir. I like children. I like to explain how things work. A position on an estate such as Havenwood, quiet, away from the city, would be highly desirable."
The softly spoken words added to Sir Charles' surprise. "Away from the city?" he checked.
The other candidates he'd interviewed had seemed reluctant to be so far from the city's variety and noise. Indeed, the previous tutor had resigned to return to London. "And why is that?"
"The...the quiet," Thomas stuttered slightly. "The sea. Your estate overlooks the sea."
Ah. So, there was a love of the sea in this young man, despite whatever misfortune had led him away from a career on its waters.
"And what experience have you with young children?"
"My cousins, sir, and nephews and nieces. I do well with them I'm told."
Sir Charles tried not to smile in the face of the boy's modesty. His inquiries had indeed told of a young man who got on well with children. "My boys will go to public school when each reaches the age of eight. I wish for them to be well prepared before then."
"I would do my best, sir."
Charles let a few moments pass while he gave the matter more thought. Presently, he rang a bell and the secretary appeared in moments.
"Mr. Scott, please bring the children down to the library to meet their new tutor." He took delight in the muted cry that Thomas gave on learning he had the job. While they waited for the children, he described his sons, and ascertained that the working requirements as described in earlier correspondence between Mr. Scott and Mr. Payne were satisfactory. All of the conditions were met with a dazzling grin and Sir Charles finally laughed himself. "Now don't tell me you would have taken this employment for no recompense?"
"Um, no, sir. I would not. However, I am informed that you are highly regarded as a just and fair employer. I must admit to surprise that you have accepted my service. I did not regard myself as having much likelihood of success."
"Oh? And why is that?"
"I was concerned you would think my prior experience too limited."
"It is limited, but I see potential here. Let us see what the children think of my choice."
Two dark-haired boys, five and six, skidded to a stop just short of the library itself and arranged themselves to be presentable at the doorway. The boys were nearly the same height, both dark-eyed, both stocky, healthy lads with glossy brown hair worn in the style of the day. Each shared the deep dimples of their father when they smiled hesitantly at the stranger introduced to them as Mr. Payne.
Sir Charles watched quietly as Thomas immediately squatted down to the level of the boys and grinned at each. "If Sir Charles has no objections, I hope you will both call me Thomas."
A throat clearing from Sir Charles diverted their attention to their father standing by the library chair. "Mr. Thomas would do."
"I'm 'Mr.' Thomas. And who are you?" he asked the smaller boy.
"I am John, sir."
"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, John."
Sir Charles smiled to himself at the solemnness with which Thomas repeated the question to his older boy. The six year-old informed him, "I am Edward, sir."
Gracefully, with a smile for the children, Thomas rose to his feet. "I suspect we will start lessons tomorrow."
With a nod, Sir Charles dismissed the boys whose footsteps didn't begin running until they were at least ten feet from the library. A muted whoop could be heard as they raced outdoors to the manicured lawns outside the library windows.
"Fine boys," Thomas offered shyly.
"Yes, they are." Sir Charles couldn't help the pride that crept into his voice, nor could he help but notice the passing sadness that sat briefly on the young man's countenance. "Mr. Scott will show you around Havenwood. He will introduce you to the staff and to Mrs. Woodly, our head housekeeper. Let her know of your needs."
"Yes, sir, and thank you, sir."
Arms folded across his broad chest, Sir Charles' eyes followed the young man as he left with the secretary. Rarely had he given thought to the beauty of youth, yet it hit him at a visceral level that the boy he'd just hired was of extraordinary beauty. Before his marriage, in his schools and university he'd indulged in play with the other boys. And he'd had his club. But nothing and no one had seriously disrupted his life's course. Now, here he was, two years a widower with a coltish youth harbored within his estate's walls.
It wasn't quite arousal that he felt, but it came close. Sir Charles shook his head. Taking a boy to his bed in his own home was not in his current life's plans. Indeed, he'd recently begun to think it time to consider taking a new wife even if the suitable prospects were not particularly to his taste. Perhaps it would be best to avoid Thomas lest forbidden desires overwhelm his good sense, his ordered life, his dormant needs.
CHAKOTAY: I have to give Tom Paris credit. He cheerfully took on the role of Thomas Payne. Despite the misgivings outside of the holodeck, he'd put himself into it with enthusiasm, even carrying off the somewhat stilted and formal speech of the 19th Century that had us both sounding like Vulcans. And Tom's blushes: Well, a 22-year old Tom who blushed was irresistible. I think my own character's reactions to Thomas were understandable. That youthful beauty was breathtaking. I was glad I'd made us ten years younger. And it didn't hurt to look in the mirror either. I have to confess to a bit of smugness on that score.
The tour of Havenwood took some time as Scott showed Thomas the stables, kennels, carriage house, the root cellar, smoke shed, gardener's shed and other outbuildings on the grounds. He was introduced to the coachman, groomsmen, and gardeners.
The house itself was divided by a center hall into north and south wings. Upstairs in the south wing, Thomas was shown the doors to the children's room, the nurse's quarters, the room where his tutoring would take place, Sir Charles' rooms. As they encountered various servants, Thomas was introduced as Mr. Payne, the new tutor. Mr. Scott sought out several important members of the staff, including the butler, footman, and valet, for personal introductions.
When they headed downstairs, Thomas asked about the north wing. Scott made a nervous reference to Sir Charles' brother Arthur, as well as to the deceased parents of Arthur and Charles. Thomas knew not to inquire further into the private business of his new employer. Scott did make it clear that the north wing's upstairs rooms had been closed for years.
Thomas found that his room in the downstairs south wing overlooked the rose garden. It was clean, yet functional, and had a comfortable bed. The fireplace worked, the large window would let in the afternoon light. He had his own desk and wardrobe. Best of all, he only shared the bath chamber with one other, Mr. Scott, whose room down the hall formed an L with his own and the bath chamber. Ever since he began to go to school he'd shared rooms with at least one other.
He marveled a little at his good fortune. This room was private and it was his own. He had his first real employment. He would have to send for his belongings, but Mr. Scott indicated that there were a few work clothes in the dresser. For now, he would have another change of clothes until his own possessions arrived.
Thomas had brought a satchel that contained a few books, writing paper, his pen, and erasable slates along with a few necessities. When he arrived for the interview, he hadn't been sure he would be offered employment, he simply had hoped. Regardless, he was prepared to begin tutoring the young boys in the morning. Too excited to remain for long in the room, he found his way along the corridor to the door to the rose garden. Fragrances from end-of-the-season blooms caught his attention as Thomas walked carefully along the clipped pathways.
As his wanderings took him beyond the rose garden, he realized he was gradually going up an incline. Before too long, he stood on cliffs overlooking the sea below him and heard the surf as it pounded against ragged rocks. Black birds and seagulls circled overhead, occasionally darting into the waters off the west Devon coast. He would be secure here. He *had* to be. He had to make up to his father the huge disappointments he'd caused the elder Payne.
The westerly breeze picked up as he stood there under the still warming rays of the soft sunlight. He shivered a bit, then headed back to the estate he could now call home.
TOM PARIS: Chakotay did an unbelievable job with the holoprogram. I felt as if I'd actually gone back in time. But it seemed really strange to play someone who was only 22 and so inexperienced. There sure wasn't much in my own life I could draw upon to play this role. But maybe that was Chakotay's point. Start at the beginning. Start over. On the holodeck a lot of things were possible, even a reinvented past.
In the weeks since the young tutor's arrival, Sir Charles noticed a change in his children. Edward expressed more curiosity and frequently came to the library to borrow books that he was barely capable of carrying, much less comprehending. And John, exuberant young John, seemed more focused, more intent. These were changes for the better, Sir Charles decided.
By his own design, he had barely crossed paths with the young tutor. He had a carefully planned life ahead of him, no need for extraneous emotions to cloud that future.
He was surprised when Mr. Scott informed him one morning that Mr. Thomas was ill and would not be able to tutor that day. "Shall I send for the doctor?" Sir Charles asked.
"I cannot be certain, sir. Mr. Thomas indicated that his illness is not contagious. He said not to fetch the doctor, but I don't know...." Scott equivocated. "Perhaps if you looked in on him yourself, sir?"
"Yes. Yes. I will."
Sir Charles finished his cup of tea and then ventured to the tutor's room. He knocked. "It's Sir Charles. May I come in?"
A muffled assent followed and Sir Charles entered the darkened room. He found the youth in bed, blankets wrapped tightly about him, his golden curls now dark and plastered damply to a fevered forehead. Crossing to the bed, Sir Charles noted that even though the boy's belongings had arrived over a fortnight ago, the room seemed pristine and barren of personal effects. A neat young man or a lonely one, he surmised.
"I understand you are unwell?"
"I'm sorry, sir," came the miserable reply. "I'm sorry to inconvenience you, sir."
"There, there. Should we send for the doctor?"
The flushed face darkened. "Please don't. I will be well again presently."
Sir Charles wasn't all that certain but said, "You will tell me if you need one? It's a three hour ride to fetch the doctor. I would not want to be sending for him too late."
Thomas sat up, ran a hand through tousled hair, and shook his head. "No, sir. If there is a need, I will say something to you, sir."
"Very well. Now am I to understand that you believe your illness cannot be caught by others?"
"Yes, sir. That is true."
"Very well. Would you like cook to bring you anything? Tea, perhaps?"
"Tea? Yes, tea. Thank you, sir. Oh, and, sir. Please tell the boys I'm sorry not to be with them today. I feel sure I will improve by tomorrow."
With a smile, Sir Charles nodded, "I'll tell them." He was on the verge of turning to leave the room when he decided to see for himself if the young man was running a fever. He placed the palm of his hand against a hot forehead. As he took his hand away, he saw a feeling like shame cross the boy's features. "What is it, Thomas?"
The youth looked up in surprise and Sir Charles wondered if he should have used his name before now. Thomas seemed to struggle, as if wanting to say something and at the same time not wanting to say anything. At last he appeared to resolve the struggle by apologizing once again. "I'm sorry, sir."
With a stern look that usually worked on his sons, Sir Charles waited. But he realized that this was a stubborn young man who would not speak to an almost stranger easily. "Well, then. Cook will bring you some tea, perhaps some toast?"
Thomas nodded and slid back down onto the bed. At the door, it looked to Sir Charles as if the young man was sleeping. He vowed to look in on him again and to put an end to the way he'd isolated himself. Perhaps Thomas would have spoken up if he himself had not appeared as a stranger. Because he was a determined, orderly man, Sir Charles knew he would not let some forgotten urges disturb him. He could become better acquainted with Thomas without it upsetting his world.
By nightfall the young man had not ventured from his room and Sir Charles paid a repeat visit to him after his own solitary dinner. He carried a lamp set on low into the room when the voice within admitted him. Placing the lamp on the dresser across from the bed, Sir Charles noted that the tutor looked little different from the morning.
Using the palm of his hand to check for fever, he wondered if Thomas wasn't a little warmer than he had been. He sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. "It seems I should send for the doctor. The children's nurse tells me you remain ill."
Damp curls were plastered against Tom's forehead, his cheeks held a high color, and he seemed extraordinarily embarrassed. He repeated his earlier regrets. "I am so sorry, sir. I know how much of an inconvenience this is to you."
"No. That is not what I want to hear. Tell me what seems to be the matter." At the guilty look on Thomas' face, he surmised, "You do know, do you not?"
"I cannot say, sir," the boy's voice was muffled by the pillow he'd turned into.
"Now look at me." Hesitantly, Thomas responded to the stern words. "You must tell me. You must let me help you, whether it is something I can do or the doctor can do. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, sir." His misery was unmistakable.
"Tell me, Thomas."
"Can you...? Can you turn down the lamp, please?"
Sir Charles did as requested and settled back on the bed. One of the boy's hands clutched at the bedding, he couldn't tell where the other was. He reached for the hand he did see and covered it with his own large hand. As he remembered what he'd been told about the boy's aborted naval career, he hoped that Thomas didn't carry some life-threatening illness. Charles softened his voice "Very well. I know this is quite difficult. Please speak freely."
After a moment, Thomas began in a halting, stuttering voice, "I -- uh -- I can't." His voice dropping lower, Thomas tried again. "I haven't -- I -- this has happened before."
"Start at the beginning. When before? When you were a child? Like my boys?"
"Yes, sir," came the soft, tormented tones.
"When you were a child, what would happen?"
The words seemed to fall easier now that he could talk about a childhood time. "Well, I -- for days, even more...." Thomas stopped talking, then took a deep breath as the words tumbled out in a rush. "I couldn't -- couldn't -- evacuate."
For a moment Sir Charles wasn't sure what the boy meant. But the embarrassment, the now dark eyes that seemed to plead with him to understand, helped him to form a theory. Squeezing the hand he held reassuringly, Sir Charles cleared his throat. Surely, this was a matter for the doctor. "Perhaps I should send for the doctor."
"I would rather not," came the whispered reply. "Please, sir, this is so troublesome."
"Yes, I understand." With an awkward motion, Charles patted the hand under his own. However, he had dealt with these problems during his late wife's long illness. He could possibly be of assistance if this situation had not gone on for too long.
Although topics of such intimacy would not normally be broached, in this situation, Sir Charles made an exception. It might ease the awkwardness of the encounter if he were to speak with forthrightness. "And how long has it been?"
"Five days, sir," came the stuttering reply.
Sir Charles was taken aback. This could be serious. He pressed for a little more information. "When you were a child and this happened, what would make you well again?" Clearly Thomas was reluctant to tell him. "I need to know, so we can help you."
The use of the word 'we' seemed to frighten the young man. His hand tried to pull away. "Please, sir, no one else, please, please, sir."
"Shh. No one else has to be involved. Trust me, Thomas." Again he used the stern voice, hoping it would prove reassuring. It must have worked as the hand in his relaxed a little. "Now, tell me what I need to do."
The sick young man shrank back into the blankets shaking his head negatively. "I tried to minister to myself and I failed. I'm unable to do anything more alone."
Sir Charles wasn't sure what Thomas meant, but it was clear the distress ran deep. The young man managed to put on a brave face and Sir Charles was relieved at this sign of self-control. "I fully intend to take care of you so you will be better soon. Trust me, Thomas. Just trust me."
A shudder of surrender seemed to go through the boy. Although the words were nearly whispered, he heard the painful confession, "An enema. The deep kind. I tried with the syringe and it was inadequate to the task. I'm unable to do the other kind. I'm sorry, sir, I'm so sorry."
End Part 2
Part: NEW: 3/17
Summary and Warnings: See part 1.
The young man lay on his side, curled up under the blankets. Charles patted Thomas' hair and ran a hand up and down along his sweat-soaked back between the covers and the boy's nightshirt. So, that was what this was all about. And it had been going on since childhood. Best to treat this as a routine situation, less embarrassment for them all. "Is that what your nurse did when you were little? She gave you a deep enema?" A nod. "I have on hand the necessary equipment. There should be no need to call the doctor. The nurse...."
Thomas pulled away with a jerk. "No! You said! You said just you. Please, sir, please don't bring the children's nurse, please?"
By training, the children's nurse was the right person for this job. However, this tutor, while young and inexperienced, was not a child. To have the children's nurse come in to do the procedure would be to imply that Thomas was still a child. Thomas was right. He had promised. He had not anticipated that he would be called upon to give his children's tutor a deep enema. This was too intimate, too forbidden that he would be touching this young man *there*. Oh, mercy, where was his ordered life?
"I believe I did promise. It will be just me and you, then." He found his hand brushing damp hair away from the youth's eyes. Even in the dim light, he could see the fear there. "No need to be afraid."
"Sir? Have you done this before?"
"Yes." Sir Charles didn't elaborate, didn't explain that the doctor had taught him this procedure when they tried in vain for all those long months to save his wife.
Almost without thinking, he brushed his lips against that fevered forehead. What he wouldn't give to have Thomas healthy and strong again without the difficult and embarrassing procedure the youth would have to go through to get there. With a sigh, he told himself that it could have been worse. Although clearly ashamed, Thomas would live through this.
"I shall retrieve the equipment and warm water. Stay here until I return for you."
Silently, the scared youngster nodded. With one hand holding the lamp, his other hand on the door handle, Sir Charles was almost out of the room, when Thomas quietly asked, "Sir? Where will...?"
"The procedure is best performed in the bath chamber."
"Yes, sir," came the meek reply.
The room returned to darkness with Sir Charles' departure. Tom shivered from the shock of having divulged his most shameful secret. To have had to reveal this to his employer, to that muscular, intensely handsome man, had been more painful than he could have imagined. Why hadn't his former remedy worked this time? Why did he have these terrible, shameful bouts when he couldn't make his body do what any four year-old child could accomplish?
His misery almost seeped out in hot tears but he forced himself to deny them an outlet. Although Sir Charles had appeared somewhat awkward about this matter, the man had treated him respectfully. He wanted to retain that respect. It would never do for Sir Charles to see him cry.
The inevitable events were more than Thomas thought it possible to bear. Although the doctors had vetoed his entrance to a naval career on health grounds, still, he had hoped his condition had been outgrown. Hadn't that been the doctor's promise when he'd been young? That he'd outgrow it? Well, here he was, all grown up, with a position he loved, and now this.
He was sure Sir Charles would let him go, would send him packing in the morning. He didn't want to leave those lively children. And, truth, he didn't want to leave the fascinating, dark man who had hired him.
His abdomen hurt and he curled up around the center of the pain. Without realizing how much time had passed, he heard Sir Charles return and call his name. "Thomas."
Thomas struggled out from beneath the bedclothes. But before he could get up, Sir Charles motioned him to remain in bed. "I need to take your temperature, Thomas. We need to know if this procedure works. If it does, your fever should go down."
With a motion, Sir Charles indicated that he should roll over. Warily, Thomas eyed the looming thermometer held in his employer's hand. Not this, surely he was suffering enough. But he obeyed without protest and lay face down on his stomach, his hands tightly gripping the bedclothes. He felt the nightshirt being lifted up and placed above his hips and knew then that he was exposed to the older man's view.
A cool hand parted his buttocks and then a finger landed where he'd hoped no object would ever be placed again. He heard a murmured, "You seem very tight, Thomas, try to relax." The words unfortunately made him clinch his cheeks together even more and slide sideways on the bed away from the touch.
A stern voice told him to be still lest he be hurt. Thomas shuddered and surrendered.
At long last, the finger had finally worked him open. Then a cold rod was swiftly inserted. It was pushed further and further inside meeting automatic resistance from his body all the way. Finally, the pushing stopped and a broad hand rested on his bottom, thick fingers holding the thermometer in place. Sir Charles' voice told him, "Easy now. It will only take a few minutes."
Those minutes dragged by interminably. He was so conscious of the glass intruder, the large hand, the knowledge that he was displayed bare and helpless before his employer. And his gut still hurt.
"What is it? Where do you hurt?" Sir Charles' concerned words punched through the fog of embarrassment at his being physically exhibited and penetrated while his abdomen cramped in pain.
"Stomach," he managed to gasp out.
"Just a little more time and then we'll be helping that. Here...." Sir Charles placed his other hand under Thomas' stomach and encouraged him to raise his hips slightly so the hand could slide up and down his abdomen, soothing away the cramp. Thomas gripped the bedclothes more tightly as he understood how vulnerable he had made himself with his thermometer-penetrated bottom now higher than the rest of him. Wouldn't this torment ever end?
Finally, finally, Sir Charles eased his hand from under him and pressed Thomas' hips to fall back onto the bed. Charles withdrew the now warm rod from Thomas' body and one-handedly pulled the nightshirt down over his buttocks. For a moment, Thomas felt relief that at least this ordeal was over -- until he remembered that Sir Charles would no doubt do this again later once the even more dreadful procedure was over. "Am I...what's...?" he stammered.
"You have a fever, 101.7. I believe it should be lower in a few hours." The tone was matter-of-fact. "Are you ready?"
"Yes, sir." He stood shakily on his bare feet. Sir Charles handed Thomas his slippers and dressing gown. "You might need these."
"Thank you, sir." Thomas kept his head down as he slid his feet into his slippers. Sir Charles helped him with the dressing gown and silently walked beside him as Thomas made his way toward the bath chamber. The closer they came to it, the weaker he felt. He halted at the doorway when Sir Charles opened the door. He almost fainted at the sight of the metal stand, the huge bladder already filled with water, the long hose snaked over the stand. Thanks to quick action on the part of his employer, Thomas didn't slide to the floor as strong arms held him up until he could adjust.
Sir Charles guided him into the large room with the claw-footed tub, the porcelain basin. A separate door led to the small water closet with its indoor plumbing. The larger room was warmed by a small fireplace and brightened by a vase of roses of mixed colors. Taking his arm, Sir Charles propelled him to a straight-backed wooden chair. "Here, sit down a minute."
Dazed, Thomas followed the man's instructions. He felt dizzy and sick. He couldn't watch as Sir Charles turned the key in the door, placed the lamp on the shelf, dimmed its light, and adjusted objects Thomas didn't want to look at. He started when he felt a hand rubbing his abdomen through his nightshirt. Looking up, he saw concerned brown eyes regarding him somberly.
Sir Charles withdrew his hand and bent forward to speak to him. "Thomas, I suggest we begin now."
Miserably, Thomas nodded. He knew he was flushed a deep red from his chest to his scalp. Dear, God, this was going to happen. Sir Charles was asking him a question but he missed it. "Sir?"
Softly, the man asked him, "How did you do this? Did you lie down?" Thomas shook his head no. "How?"
"Nurse...nurse held me across her lap. Father watched." The shame of those moments was with him still.
"And when you became bigger?"
School. He meant what happened at school? "The...." He couldn't complete the sentence.
"Did the headmaster do the same?"
The voice asking him these terrible secrets was soft and gentle. He indicated yes.
"Should I do that as well? Would that make it easier for you?"
He nodded, too ashamed to speak aloud, too fearful of what was to come to look up into that worried face above him. He wanted to flee, to run out into the night and throw himself over the cliff. But he sat hunched over and passive as he waited for instructions.
"Is there anything else I should know?"
He couldn't tell him everything, could he? But Sir Charles must have seen something in his face or his posture, or maybe he just could read minds.
"Thomas, what else? I want this to work for you. If it doesn't, I will have to send for the physician. We would then have to begin all over again. I don't want that to happen. Let us proceed correctly the first time."
Thomas fought off the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes like rainwater on a sloping roof. He gained control and managed to keep those tears unshed. He spoke of his shame in a tortured whisper. "Father...he'd whip me. He said it wasn't punishment, but that...that things would work better that way."
"And the headmaster? Did he whip you?"
"Father told him to."
"Before or after inserting the tube?"
"Before," he answered faintly.
Thomas could not look at his employer. This was too much. All of his humiliation was there for the older man to use against him. A touch under his chin lifted his face upwards to look at the kindness in his employer's expression.
"I hold we do not need to do it that way." There was an edge to Sir Charles' voice that hadn't been there before and Thomas wondered if the man saw him as a weak, disgusting child, one he would want to be rid of as soon as possible. In a businesslike tone, Sir Charles told him, "We need to reverse places."
He let Sir Charles help him to his feet. His dressing gown was removed and carefully hung on the hook behind the door. Helplessly, knowing this actually was going to happen, he watched as Sir Charles moved the stand close to the chair, adjusting the tubing and clamp to his satisfaction. Then the man lowered himself carefully to the seat. He gave a slight tug to the sleeve of Thomas' nightshirt and positioned Thomas at his side. Without a word he indicated that Thomas was to lie across his lap.
Awkwardly, with gentle guidance from Sir Charles, Thomas found himself lying across the man's thighs. One arm was able to grasp a chair leg, the other held onto Sir Charles' leg. Thomas' knees almost touched the rug on the floor. Sir Charles pulled and tugged and got him into a position that appeared to satisfy him. "Thomas, I plan to raise your nightshirt now. It may be a little cold, but that is not to be helped."
Thomas held on for dear life. As had happened in the bedroom, he could hear both the rustle of the cloth as it was pulled up and the cool air circulating across his uncovered skin. Realizing how utterly defenseless he was, Thomas shuddered.
"I know this is difficult, but you are cooperating very nicely. Now, I will put some oil on my fingers and then I shall press them inside you so that the tube doesn't hurt you when it goes inside. This will take more time than it did for the thermometer. Part your legs and be as still as you can. Yes."
True to Sir Charles' word, a warm, slick finger swirled lightly about the now clearly revealed, most private opening to his body. Thomas' breath hitched when the finger pressed more urgently.
Thomas told himself to remember how difficult this must be for Sir Charles. Dear God, Charles held his nearly naked body across those strong thighs and was forced to penetrate him with a finger. When Thomas' body shook slightly, Sir Charles softly reassured him.
The finger made a strong effort at penetration but Thomas' muscle had other ideas. "Thomas, you need to relax, if you can do that, the procedure will end sooner. Remain calm. There, now."
Sir Charles spoke the words in a musical rhythm as his finger worked its difficult way partly inside him. But it couldn't go any further. Thomas' muscle contracted tightly and forced it out. He heard Sir Charles sigh. Then a warm hand rubbed slow circles on his lower back and he felt the tension begin to ease. Warmth extended to his backside as his buttocks were rubbed in the same soothing rhythm.
Without warning, the slick, thick finger found its way inside, but this time it stayed and slowly and firmly stretched him until another finger was able to join the first. The two worked in tandem, pulling apart, coming together, as if they were human scissors. Thomas lay there in disbelief at how good Sir Charles was making him feel.
CHAKOTAY: I was becoming immersed in my character: This gentleman who harbored such strong, erotic feelings for the tall blond I held across my knees was someone I could identify with. I felt the very basic level of this scene was right. There was something so powerful in holding an unprotesting Tom Paris in such a position.
Thomas had never felt such a gentle and thorough stretching. It felt as if it was being done with great care for his well being. As never before when similarly invaded for this procedure, he began to relax. But he wondered if he was imagining the intense heat in his groin. How could something that had always been so painful and difficult now provide him with pleasure? As his confusion grew, he tensed again.
"Shh, Thomas, it's quite common to feel such excitement. This is not supposed to hurt, on the contrary, it can feel very agreeable."
At the affirming words, Thomas felt his muscles loosen and allowed himself to appreciate how good those fingers felt. All too soon, they were withdrawn. Sir Charles explained, "I'm introducing the tubing now. And we will go as slowly as necessary. There is no rush, keep yourself relaxed."
Slippery cool tubing now pressed at him, pushed inward, and was met with resistance. Sir Charles urged him to take a breath and let it out, take a breath and let it out again. On one of those breaths, the tube popped inside. His body's first reaction was to try to repel the cold invader, but Sir Charles rubbed his back and buttocks once more and his tension eased. More and more of the tube went inside. Thomas suppressed a whimper at the memory of painful invasions in the past.
Sir Charles stopped and asked him how he was. He managed to mutter a strangled, "Fine, sir."
More rubbing and massaging of each bottom cheek helped him to relinquish control. He realized at one point that Sir Charles had to be exerting considerable effort to push the tube through but the older man eventually prevailed. Despite the resistance, more and more inched deeply inside him. Sir Charles rested his hand on Thomas' bottom just under the exiting tubing. "Done. I shall start to release the water now."
TOM PARIS: It was difficult to play out the scene. I couldn't imagine a time when a hypospray wouldn't fix this condition. Even the 20th Century wouldn't have been this backward, would it? I'll research that point when I get off the holodeck. The thing is, it's so hard to play such a submissive role. No chance to make wise cracks, no rebelliousness. Not very Tom Paris at all. But the comfort offered to my character by Sir Charles was somehow welcome. And that part of the scene reached me.
Thomas didn't trust himself to speak, not with so much tubing inside him. He couldn't believe that he now lay across the lap of his employer, his backside totally bared and infiltrated in this obscene fashion. And then there was the warm reaction beneath him, a seemingly paradoxical hardness of traitorous flesh that the older man couldn't help but notice.
"Dear God," he prayed when the first of the hot water began to wend its long way through the internal tunnel so firmly trapped inside him. The spreading heat sent a shudder through his exposed body. Then the first of the water flooded his internal passages. The cramping he'd felt earlier returned with a vengeance and he aborted a cry of pain even as he tried to move against it.
Thomas felt Sir Charles' hands lift up his hips until Thomas could hold himself in place above Sir Charles' lap. Thomas' abdomen was kneaded by warm palms that moved up and down and from side to side, easing the cramp. More of the very warm water was released inside him, slower this time, as Sir Charles continued a one-handed gentle massage of his belly. At one point he was convinced that Sir Charles must have noticed the rigid flesh of his penis almost flat against his stomach. But the man never called attention to Thomas' arousal, merely worked around it, and continued the soothing massage.
Thomas was sure the water must have been flowing into him for hours, so long did it take. Each cramp was met with warm hands to work it out. Each administration of flowing water filled him more and more until his belly was distended almost painfully. As Sir Charles worked, he kept up a low murmur of appreciation of how well Thomas was doing, how it wasn't going to be much longer, how much better he would feel soon. The crooning words, the gentle, massaging touch, the warm tube infiltrating his bowels, the way it sometimes moved in his body, all these sensations proved overwhelming. He found himself wanting to cry for reasons he couldn't understand. It took all of his upbringing to prevent this from happening.
Sir Charles' voice was only inches from his ear, soothing him with sweet words of praise, "I know this is terribly difficult. It will just last a little longer. You have been very brave, Thomas, very valiant."
Finally, the flow stopped and Sir Charles held him in place, one hand now making circles from his back under the nightshirt on down to his uncovered backside. The other hand continued to press warmth against his belly. Thomas couldn't control his arousal nor understand why it was continuing. This had never happened before, but then, he had never been treated so gently before.
He lay across those broad thighs trying hard to sort out his feelings, struggling to find mental images to suppress his continuing erection, aware of how he must appear to Sir Charles. Although tall, he knew he looked barely grown. He feared that his appearance would put Sir Charles in mind of one of his children. Not the image he wished for Sir Charles to have of him.
He was convinced his employment would be terminated, his future ruined again. After all, the man couldn't help but be upset at Thomas' inappropriate sexual response to this already difficult procedure. His father would be disappointed again. Thomas could just imagine the two men meeting, Sir Charles having to explain why he had to let the Admiral's son go. Dear God, why hadn't he just died?
End Part 3
Part: NEW: 4/17
Summary and Warnings: See part 1.
"Sufficient time has passed," Sir Charles announced. "Once I remove the tube, I'll leave you to evacuate in privacy while I clean up the equipment. It's almost over now."
As gentle as the man had been in placing the tube within Thomas, he was that gentle in removing it. Finally, it was fully retracted. Thomas wiped at the damp hair hanging in his face, felt his dignity begin to return with the pulling down of his nightshirt. When he stood up, Thomas swayed for a moment, lightheaded. Sir Charles' arm wrapped around his waist and steadied him.
"Should I leave you now?"
"Yes, sir," he sniffed, never bringing his eyes up to meet the other man's. He crossed his hands in front of him in a fruitless attempt to hide his arousal.
"Thomas, what you are experiencing...is perfectly normal. Try not to be upset, hmm?"
Although Thomas nodded, he kept his eyes averted. Sir Charles left with the equipment and Thomas entered the tiny water closet. Gratefully, he found that nature took over.
Only a great force of will kept huge sobs from breaking free. But the effort to prevent them, at long last, made his arousal deflate.
When he calmed, he managed to clean himself up and wondered what he should do now. A knock at the door announced Sir Charles' return. He opened the door to stand before the man, defenseless and defeated, hating himself, hating his traitorous body.
The question could be taken several ways. "I feel certain my illness is over," he predicted with as much bravery as he could muster.
"Did everything...work out?"
"Thomas, please look at me?"
"Thomas, you couldn't help that your body reacted to what was being done to it. Those things are meant to bring pleasure, don't you know?"
Thomas finally looked at the older man, still a little confused. "Sir?"
Sir Charles stepped closer, enough so that Thomas was startled to find a hardness that was not his own pressed against his thigh.
Charles whispered, "Do you see? You're not alone, Thomas." More briskly, moving back a step, Charles suggested, "Now, to bed with you."
Thomas shrugged diffidently. If that's what Sir Charles wanted. It both confused and excited him to find the man's flesh had been so hard against him, and he puzzled over why Charles had let him feel it. He didn't understand any of the reactions he'd had or felt tonight. When Sir Charles turned him to the door, Thomas stepped forward and allowed the older man to guide him back to bed.
Dazed, exhausted, and drained, Thomas crawled under the blankets that Sir Charles held up for him. He watched his employer, now nurse, and possibly more, lower himself on top of the bedclothes. A gentle hand smoothed his hair and ran down his cheek. Huskily voiced words carried to him, "I felt it, too, Thomas. When you're feeling better, I would like to lie here beside you and stroke your soft skin and feel your beautiful body respond to me once more. For now, go to sleep. I'm going to stretch out here for a short time in case you need anything."
Soft lips kissed his forehead and Thomas didn't know what he wanted to say nor how to respond. "I've not been terminated?"
The older man laughed. "No, no. Not at all."
This time the kiss landed on his lips. As Thomas drifted into sleep, the kiss insinuated itself into a short catalogue of his adult ardors.
Sir Charles pulled up a blanket over himself intending to remain in Thomas' bed until he felt sure he was no longer needed. Feeling strangely keyed up and excited, Charles tried to unwind. Although he had to put the boy through a terrible ordeal, he hoped he had made it as painless as possible.
The beatings Thomas' father and headmaster had inflicted had been unnecessarily cruel and sadistic. No wonder Thomas had been so reluctant to say anything, even to the point of risking his life on unattended needs.
His mind turned to the responses of his own body to the sight of that pale, slender frame across his lap. The perfectly shaped, incredibly silken skin of Thomas' buttocks, the oh-so-tight entrance to his body, the long minutes with that thick tubing intruding so deeply inside him, Charles remembered each detail.
In the future, under circumstances involving a healed tutor, Charles acknowledged how much he wanted to revisit that trembling body. And he knew it would be possible. Thomas had surrendered to him, would do as he requested. He felt certain that the young man would like the new, sensual invasions he hoped to bring to that willowy body.
He placed an arm across the boy's chest, felt a hand reach for him, felt the onset of even breathing signaling sleep in the healing youngster. He remembered Thomas' last words. Terminate him, indeed! There was no possible chance of that. He had lost his heart to this once abused young man. Although he still felt the guilt that reminded him he'd not been able to save his wife, he knew that the boy's problem could be ameliorated.
On reflection, Charles felt sure that the cause of Thomas' problem was in the unusually narrow size of his anus and rectum. With careful stretching that could be remedied.
He still had the devices the doctor had given him that were designed to help his wife in her fatal illness. Although her illness was incurable, that fact was not relevant here. With those devices he had the means to assist young Thomas Payne. Although others of his station might find it an onerous task for which they had no vocabulary and no training, Sir Charles was well prepared in those areas.
Thoughts of helping the young tutor, of seducing the lovely body, of making love, revived his erection. He relished the fact that Thomas had only wanted him to administer the procedure and was pleased that his efforts resulted in sensual pleasure for the youth. With his free hand, Sir Charles quietly attended to his own needs. Images of spilling his seed inside of Thomas instead of his own hand lulled him to sleep.
Grey light outlined the heavy curtains covering the window and Sir Charles stirred, momentarily lost as to his whereabouts. Then he felt the outline of the lanky body next to him and realized he had slept the night on the bed of his children's tutor. All the surprising and difficult events of the previous evening came back to him. He fervently hoped the deep enema had been the remedy for the young man's illness.
Thomas must have sensed his movements and turned to look at him. There was shyness, fear, and uncertainty in those blue eyes. Perhaps gratitude as well. Then, the eyes dropped away as if memory had suddenly reinstated itself in the tutor.
"Thomas, how do you feel?"
Blue eyes darted back to Charles' face. Charles watched the fleeting emotions alight like hummingbirds on Thomas' face, then leave. The final emotion was possibly relief, it was hard to read. "I feel better, sir."
Sir Charles smiled. "Good. I'm very pleased to hear that. This morning, I'd like to take your temperature again and also check on you. Will you let me do that?"
"Yes, sir," came the shyly spoken permission.
Those eyes were trusting, so trusting. How he longed to truly make that trust earned. He gave a pat to the boy's shoulder and rose to find the thermometer.
There was an early morning chill in the room. In his search, he stopped for a moment to encourage the fire back to life in the fireplace. This was not the time to have a servant perform such a task. Although he didn't look, Sir Charles sensed thoughtful eyes tracking his moves.
"I need to...to use the water closet."
It was almost as if the young man were questioning him for permission. "Thomas, please don't ask for my consent; you know best what you need to do."
"Thank you, sir."
A flurry of activity that ranged from the bed to the door signaled the youth's rapid departure. Sir Charles shook his head, a smile on his lips. He waited patiently, rubbing the bristles on his chin and cheeks. Courtesy of some Roman ancestors, his dark facial hair gave him a forbidding look in the mornings before he shaved.
He had the feeling that Thomas could go days without shaving, so light was his hair and so sparse did it seem on his face. On the other hand, where he himself lacked chest hair, Thomas' was beginning to develop. Bemused by the way his mind had begun to catalogue contrasts between himself and the fair-haired youth, he couldn't help but smile at his conceits.
When Thomas returned, Sir Charles cocked an eyebrow in question and received a hesitant shrug in response. "I feel much improved, sir, although I remain a little weak."
"But you do feel better?" Charles went to the door and turned the key to lock it.
"Yes, sir," came the reply, even if the speaker still wouldn't look at him. Thomas sat on the edge of the bed and finally looked up. "How do you want me?"
"Lay back first, hmm?"
Thomas did as instructed and Sir Charles sat beside him. Carefully, Charles parted the dressing gown and pulled up the nightshirt high on Thomas' chest. He lost the brief struggle to keep his own eyes focused on only the belly area. His eyes followed the dusting of red-gold curls down the long chest, descending in a fine line to his groin. A flaccid penis pooled to the left over a sparse bed of pubic hair.
He noticed that Thomas had turned his head away, his eyes tightly closed. With a nod to Thomas' sense of modesty, Charles pulled the edge of the dressing gown over the boy's legs. But given the area on which he needed to work, he couldn't completely cover the tutor's assets.
With his palms, he pressed firmly against Thomas' abdomen, moving each hand in a rocking motion before he moved lower. At each stop, he formed a mental image of the youth's internal condition. Finally, his palms migrated to rest flat, as low as possible, between the prominent hip bones. Once again he pressed downward, inward and catalogued the internal response. "Hmm. Yes. I'm finished with this part."
Eyes still cast to the side, Thomas asked, "Did you find anything?"
"No. Everything seems normal. Let me check your temperature. If you would, roll over."
Thomas obeyed. As he turned over, the nightshirt bunched up, exposing Thomas' youthful bottom. Something hot shot through Charles' gut at the sight of the smooth, virtually hairless, round buttocks.
Charles had the thermometer and oil ready. After greasing his finger, he placed his palms between Thomas' thighs and gently pushed them apart, opening the narrow cheeks like an unfolding flower. He spread the smooth globes further apart and stopped in alarm when he saw the swollen, bruised anus that had been hidden in their depths.
He used a very light touch on that reddened area but the boy still jumped under his hand. Thomas gave a short, strangled cry. Sir Charles patted a buttock gently and murmured, "It seems you are a bit sore this morning. Be as still as you can, Thomas, while I ready you for the thermometer."
With a slick finger he pressed against the puffiness and felt the youth stiffen. Other than that, Thomas gave no other sign of distress. Very carefully, Charles insinuated his finger and oiled up the reddened flesh. His finger encountered greater tightness than it had met the night before.
Taking care to prevent harm, Charles reached for the thermometer and lined it up with the barely created opening. Thomas started at any touch there, but he managed to hold himself rigidly still for the insertion. Sir Charles pushed the glass rod firmly until it was properly positioned. At last, he spread his fingers around it and rested them against the curved, white backside.
There was no denying the pressure in his groin, the heat that flooded Charles at the view of this young man lying so still, with a thermometer rising out of his bottom. All of it was displayed simply because Thomas had been told to do this. Charles recognized a heady kind of power to be able to compel a shy youth to allow him this kind of access to his body, a body that demonstrated the full beauty of a boy coming into manhood.
How much Charles wanted to stroke that body, give it pleasure, have it writhe beneath him in the throes of passion, bring it to full arousal and beyond while he buried himself inside that tight, tight hole. Given the boy's condition, his tightness and the narrowness of his opening, it would be some time before he would be invading that interior with anything more than his finger and his instruments.
As the youth lay still, Sir Charles attempted to relax him with light rubs across his back, lower back, and bottom. He sensed Thomas' movement in response to his caresses. It gave him hope that the future would hold more and more sensual contact between himself and the tutor.
The feelings he had for this beautiful young man were not at all a part of his life's plans, but perhaps he had been too careful in his planning. Nonetheless, there could be terrible consequences should he establish such a acquaintanceship with a young man. One couldn't be too careful about preventing one's private behavior from becoming public.
TOM PARIS: I don't know how Chakotay figured out that I'd respond to this scenario the way that I did. I felt like begging him to replace that thermometer with something bigger and more alive. But my character wouldn't do that so all I could manage was to signal with my body that I would really like a lot more action here.
Charles grasped the thermometer between forefinger and thumb and removed it slowly. Since Thomas had shown curiosity about his state earlier, he announced the reading, "Ninety-nine point seven. Still elevated."
"I'm sorry," Thomas murmured.
"Nothing to be helped. I'm sure it will be down by evening." Wiping off the thermometer and his fingers, he placed the tube on the dresser. When he turned around, he found Thomas on his back, struggling with his nightshirt, trying to pull the twisted clothing out and down. "Here. Let me."
The boy's arousal was unmistakable, as was the burning embarrassment that colored his face. Charles bent down and kissed the warm forehead. "Don't let your reaction distress you. Would it be all right...if I helped you, touched you?"
The eyes were scared, but the youth nodded his head, and Sir Charles knelt on the bed, his hand reaching for the dark pink erection. The boy gasped when Charles' hand fisted around it, then the eyes closed and Charles pressed his lips against Thomas', kissing him with all the passion he could place in his lips.
At first, Thomas was passive, then as Charles established a firm rhythm on that aroused member, Thomas moved beneath him and moaned around the mouth kissing him. In just a few minutes, Thomas climaxed and spurted milky fluid over his bare chest and over Charles' hand.
"Dear God," Thomas murmured when Charles broke off the kiss.
Charles knew his dimples were out in full bloom. Thomas' reaction had been all he could have hoped for. "Feel good?"
The tutor's hand reached out as if to reciprocate the favor, but Charles held it midway between them. "No. Not this time. That was for you, you've been through a great deal. Now, how about if you go clean up?"
"Will you...? Will you be here when I get back?" Thomas didn't look at Charles as he wrapped the dressing gown around himself.
While Thomas was gone, Charles tidied up the bed, opened the curtains and the window. It would be best to air the room lest one of the house staff pick up the now present scent of sex. As he looked over the last of the rose blooms, he knew that he was about to take a large step in dismantling the familiar routines of his life. Given the boy's physical condition, there was no question that there would be daily, intimate contact between them.
CHAKOTAY: Of course, Sir Charles should have kept his hands to himself. But I guess it's hard not to respond to an aroused Tom Paris. There's no doubt that Charles has fallen head-over-heels. You could say that Tom has had that effect on my life, too. I know a lot of people would say he's nothing more than a nice ass, but those people don't know Tom Paris. Sure, he has the nice ass, I'd be blind not to notice it. But this is a man with a heart larger than the Alpha Quadrant. It's true, I love Tom Paris.
Thomas returned to the room, a shy smile on his face. He looked as if he wanted to kiss Charles but something about Charles' expression must have given him pause. The smile faded. "Thomas, please sit down, I'd like to discuss some things with you."
"I thought I was still employed?" Distress flooded Thomas' face as he voiced his uncertain question.
"You are," Charles smiled at him. "This is not about your employment really. I...I didn't mean to upset you." Charles motioned to the made-up bed. "Sit?"
When Thomas perched uneasily on the bed, Sir Charles sat next to him, not so close as to be touching, but close enough to demonstrate intimacy or ownership. While Charles tried to organize his thoughts, the younger man seemed to draw in on himself, became still and masked.
Clearing his throat, Charles spoke at last. He tried to strike a balance between sounding too clinical or too vague. "Thomas, the several internal...um...exams tell me that you are suffering from these bouts, in part, because your body there is too small, too narrow. That creates difficulty in elimination."
Neither looked at the other. Thomas spoke first, "I know, sir. When I was little, the doctor said I would grow out of it. I guess no one told my body. Everything else grew just fine."
The words were wry, self-mocking, and at the same time contained an edge of bitterness. Keeping his tone conversational, as if they were discussing the weather, Sir Charles asked, "Have you been examined by a physician since you grew up?"
"Oh, yes. Entry to the naval service involved a complete physical exam. My father tried to gain an exception for me and that just made it all the worse. I failed the exam. The physicians did not believe I could serve Her Majesty."
"Did anyone suggest a remedy?"
Silence, then, "No, sir. Nothing that I could repeat."
Sir Charles could guess, but he wanted to hear it from Thomas. "You can tell me."
Thomas sighed. "Let's just say the suggestions included thorough and frequent buggering."
"How did you feel about that?"
"They were laughing!"
To hear that Thomas had endured the exam and then had been laughed at and made fun of kindled a burning anger in Sir Charles. He ventured cautiously into the questions he needed to ask. "I'm sorry, Thomas. I'd like to ask you...have you ever? Let me put it this way...boys often engage in such play. In our public schools it is not unheard of that tutors and headmasters bugger their pupils. Has any of that happened to you?"
At the gasp from Thomas, Charles reached out and placed his arm around the slender shoulders. "What happened, Thomas?"
"He -- he tried."
In halting words punctuated by terrible silences, Thomas told how his headmaster, the one who'd beaten him and given him enemas, had also tried to rape him. When the boy's body proved too difficult to enter on the first try, the headmaster had made repeated, bruising thrusts designed to batter his way inside. In fury at being thwarted, he'd resorted to a brutal, unprepared enema accompanied by unrestrained whipping of the helpless boy. When Thomas had not been permitted to evacuate in a timely fashion, the ensuing accident had further enraged the headmaster.
Thomas had been twelve and had been hospitalized for months with multiple injuries. Admiral Payne had seen to the headmaster's removal to a remote location in the Empire. The Admiral had feared a trial and scandal far too much to allow prosecution. The father-son relationship had been strained ever since. Thomas' failing the naval exam had exacerbated their estrangement further.
During that period of hospitalization, Thomas had been told he would outgrow his condition. He'd been instructed in the private use of a syringe enema and had been largely successful in avoiding the need for any more intrusive measures since. Until last night. Sir Charles surmised that the change in routines, the change in diet, perhaps the change in climate, he didn't know, possibly some unknown factors, had conspired to once again render Thomas helpless and defenseless in the face of his body's betrayal.
Charles comforted Thomas as best he could, overwhelmed with compassion that he expressed in hugs and soft words of empathy. He had trouble grasping how this young man beside him could have carried such terrible memories without succumbing to bitterness and despair.
With a quiet, but authoritative tone, he assured Thomas of his admiration for the young man's strength and resilience. Told him how much he cared. Once Thomas had calmed, he simply held him close for long, quiet moments. The sounds of birds chirping carried through the open window as the time passed with ease.
End Part 4
Part: NEW: 5/17
Summary and Warnings: See part 1.
Hating himself a little for the thoughts, Sir Charles wondered if the long ago rape had so traumatized the youth that he would be unable to consider sexual touches at any time in the future. When Thomas seemed to have recovered, even to the point of smiling at an attempt at humor, Charles broached the subject. "Young men your age are often involved in romantic relationships. What about yourself?"
"You mean, have I gone courting? Not with any serious intent."
To ask outright if Thomas was attracted to men would be too bold for this stage of their acquaintanceship, no matter the physical intimacy of the previous events. Charles frowned as he considered how best to approach the subject. "Perhaps you have as yet to meet someone who catches your fancy?"
A shrug. "I don't know."
The tone seemed evasive. "Is that the truth?"
"Well. Until now."
Thomas flashed a smile that seemed to light up his face at the same time that it reached Sir Charles' heart in a way that would change him forever. It appeared possible that Thomas returned his affection and that revelation was the final factor in displacing Charles from his planned life course. "Then...you won't mind moving to my rooms upstairs?"
"I...I would like that." Another dazzling smile, then Thomas appeared pensive. "What does this mean?"
"It means that I want you to share my bed and whatever that means will be something we work out together," Sir Charles grinned. "But, I also want to help you. And I may have ways to do that."
"When my wife was ill, we tried many things that the doctor thought would benefit her."
"Is that why you had that equipment and knew how to use it?"
"Yes. But I also have additional equipment, something called an anal-rectal stretcher, also termed a spreader, as well as graduated rectal dilators." Charles deliberately used the clinical terms in an effort to defuse the discomfiture surrounding discussion of such a personal topic.
"What?" Thomas appeared more confused than embarrassed.
"They are small devices designed to gradually stretch a tight anus and a small rectum."
Thomas blushed. "I never heard of it."
"Well, I would guess it is not in widespread use."
"But you have these things?"
Sir Charles nodded. "Yes. Using them is not something you should do yourself, but I would be available to assist you."
Thomas grimaced. "I'm not sure."
"Well. No need to decide today. Perhaps taking a look at the devices would be in order. We can do that tonight."
"In your rooms?"
"Our rooms," he corrected.
"Is there a good view?" Thomas asked with an impish expression on his face.
"The best. You can see the ocean."
"The ocean?" The young man paused. "I would not care to miss that."
Sir Charles tested him, "And what about the man who lives in those rooms?"
"I would not care to miss him either."
The husky voice, flushed face, and serious look told Sir Charles all he needed to know. His affections for the young man were indeed returned. "I'm glad."
"You said it was a small device! Small! This is not small!" Thomas held the metal pieces of what Sir Charles had called an anal-rectal spreader in his hand. Two curved silvery plates, similar in appearance to paired shoehorns, rested in his palm. A ratcheted, long handle that connected them to a metal collar was held in his other hand.
"This is at its most stretched, perhaps I should have shown it to you with the parts closer together." Sir Charles took the device from Thomas' hands and, by turning the handle, brought the metal plates together until they formed a closed circle. "See?"
"But look at it! That will.... It will hurt!"
Sir Charles kissed those protesting lips. "We will just have to make sure that it does not hurt you. You know I would never want to do that." He saw doubt remained in Thomas' expression. "You do know that?"
"Thomas," he sighed. "We can gradually increase the sizes, this is not something that need be done right away."
"How do you mean?"
"I have some other things. They're a little like wine bottle corks, only they're made of wood. They come in a variety of different sizes and they're called rectal dilators."
"I don't understand."
Sir Charles grinned at him and went to his wardrobe. He brought out a small box lined in satin. Inside rested an assortment of black, carved objects in various lengths and diameters. The smallest was double the width of the thermometer. The largest was slightly larger and longer than the metal stretching device on its narrowest setting. Each had a flat rim at one end. The other end was carved in the form of a mushroom. "What do you think?"
"Are you planning to put those inside me?" Thomas' question sounded weak.
"Yes. Like the thermometer, only for longer periods of time."
"How long?" A little nervously, Thomas accepted the smallest of the carved objects. As he ran his fingers over the surface, he found a smoothness so much like silk that he couldn't believe it was actually wood.
"An hour or so to begin with."
Thomas stumbled to a chair and sprawled on it, the dressing gown falling open to reveal the nightshirt underneath. Blue eyes opened wide. "An hour?"
Sir Charles retrieved a dilator from the collection and held it in front of Thomas' disbelieving eyes. "You can handle this."
"You sound sure."
"It's no bigger than my finger."
Thomas blushed remembering how that finger had touched him so intimately. "Not tonight?"
"No, not tonight. You remain too sore."
"Oh." Thomas turned the wooden device over and over in his hand. Maybe. "Sir?"
"That is something I've been meaning to talk to you about." Thomas frowned at him. "I would like you to call me by my nickname."
A blond head cocked in interest. "I'd...be honored. What is your nickname?"
"Chak?" For a moment Thomas was blank. Then he put it together. "Ah, I understand. Short for Charles and Jackson. You simply leave out some of the letters in each."
Chak beamed, pleased with the tutor's quickness. "Not everyone comprehends that."
"It's good. I like it. Chak." He blushed as his hands played unconsciously with the plug. "Could you call me Tom?"
"Tom. Yes." Chak noticed a pensive look. "What is it?"
Tom made shoving motions with the plug. "Do I get to do this to you sometime?"
"Do you want to?"
"I don't know yet. But maybe...sometime. If you didn't mind." Embarrassment made his words rush together. Abashed, he concluded, "I presume you would kindly tell me what to do."
"I can do that," Chak assured him with a smile.
"I've noticed," he teased, lightening the mood. "Any minute you're going to tell me to place myself across your lap so you can take my temperature."
"Across my lap, hmm? It appears that I've been going about this all wrong."
"Well...I wouldn't want to criticize someone called 'Sir Charles', but a man named 'Chak', it's possible to tell *him* some things."
"I see. Tom." Chak couldn't help but smile again as he sat on the bed.
When Chak had invited him to share his rooms, Tom hadn't had any grand expectations. But the main bedroom was elegant in large mahogany furniture and velvet emerald fabrics. The private bath chamber was comfortably arranged, the corner fireplace giving off a cheerful warmth. A separate room for the water closet contained indoor plumbing, just as he had used downstairs. A dressing room completed the suite. Tom was impressed.
Tom's eyes traveled around and scanned the huge bed where Chak sat leaning forward, staring intensely at him. The four-poster bed, with dark columns, headboard, and footboard, was topped by a textured green fabric canopy. At each post, curtains in a matching material were held back by tassled ties. He was certain that, when pulled, the heavy curtains would insure privacy, would create a cloistered world within the estate itself. It was as inviting as the dark man who so obviously desired him.
Chak took notice of Tom's open scrutiny of the room, the half-smile that played on his young face. He enjoyed the way Tom teased him, liked the change from the too deferential young man to this more humorous one. But he didn't want to lose that more pliable youth.
CHAKOTAY: It was interesting to see Tom Paris' personality emerge even as he remained in character. That irreverent sense of humor I love so much in Tom (when he isn't using it to frustrate me no end) started to appear in young Thomas. I hadn't really given Thomas Payne much of the depth that Tom seemed to supply almost instinctively. That story about the headmaster added a lot to understanding Thomas Payne.
Time to try out his stern voice, Chak thought, to see if it could still compel obedience. Somehow he didn't doubt that Tom would obey him. "Take off the dressing gown. I want you on my lap. Now."
Tom shivered and stood up, then shrugged out of the dressing gown. With a thoughtful look at the contents, he returned the plug to the box. Then he walked the few steps to stand by the side of the man to whom he had given himself, his body and his affections. Audibly growling, Chak pulled him closer. He surprised Tom by settling him in a sitting position on his lap and then kissing his throat and lips. One arm went around Tom's back, the other went under the nightshirt and rubbed along the inside of Tom's naked thighs.
He pressed Tom to sit up a few inches and pulled the nightshirt out from under Tom's bottom. He arranged Tom so that the youth's buttocks hung over Chak's own supporting thighs. Now Chak had unfettered access to Tom's smooth backside, soft balls, and thickening penis. He declared, "I'm going to take your temperature this way."
Chak dipped his finger into the oil and, going by touch alone, pressed it gently, but insistently, against the still swollen opening. With less preparation than earlier, the muscle soon loosened enough to slip the thermometer inside the ready, well-oiled sheath. Chak was encouraged by a perceptible change in the response of that private muscle.
It might be a long time before Tom would be able to relax and admit more than a finger or a small dilator, but Chak was a patient man. Moreover, he suspected that both of them would derive pleasure and knowledge from the long process ahead of them. It certainly felt good to have Tom on his lap, those long arms around him, sweet kisses on his face, while the glass rod rested firmly in place inside the slender body.
When sufficient time had passed, Chak pulled the thermometer down and out, heard Tom's sigh, and read the new reading. "Normal. It's normal."
"Good," Tom said, his word muffled against Chak's shoulder. Then Tom began wiggling and turning and moving his body until he had placed himself bottom-up across Chak's thighs, nightshirt bunched nearly to his shoulders.
As Chak looked at that long body now stretched across his lap, he rested his free hand on the pale buttocks and began to rub slowly. Tom moaned and Chak knew he was doing something right. "Like this?"
A breathless, "Yes," could be heard. "Yes."
"Here, lift up a bit. I want to take off the nightshirt."
Tom cooperated as Chak removed the garment and tossed it across the bed. This was the first time he had seen Tom completely naked and he drank in the sight of the tall, slender body so beautifully draped over his lap. He didn't think he'd ever tire of this sight. As he brushed his hands over the back, buttocks, and thighs, he felt the hard interest of Tom's response jutting into his thigh.
To Chak's surprise, Tom arranged his weight partly on his knees, raising his posterior higher, leaving those now tight balls to hang between parted legs, the taut penis close up against his belly. Tom was offering himself, all of himself. Chak used both his hands to sweep over and under Tom's torso and between his pale legs as Tom moved sensuously in time with Chak's stroking.
Tentatively, he placed the still greased finger against the uncovered opening and worked it around and around until it gained admittance to that very tight, very hot, all-enveloping tunnel. Although Chak knew Tom was still a little sore, Tom's backside shifted back and forth as if welcoming the intruder, and Chak gave up any thought he might have had of withdrawing his finger.
With strong movements, Chak grasped the young man's erection until it erupted for the second time that day. Tom collapsed back down onto his lap, Chak's finger deeply embedded within him. With a few slow interior slides in and almost out, in, and then all the way out, Chak withdrew the finger and simply rested his palms on that pale backside.
Eventually, Tom stirred and turned over, a lazy grin on his face. "Your turn, Sir Charles."
Chak considered the situation. It had been a little one-sided, with Tom always the one partially or completely undressed, Tom the one receiving his touch. If reciprocation was offered, and it had been, then perhaps this was the time. "I'd like that, but," he pinched Tom's nipple, "I must remind you to call me Chak. And, I think you're going to have to move a little."
When Tom got to his feet, sweaty and flushed, blue eyes sparkling and totally fixed on him, Chak felt almost overcome by the sight. Tom reached out and wordlessly pulled Chak to his feet.
The older man stood motionless, allowing slender fingers to unbutton his shirt, then his trousers. Those same graceful hands tugged Chak's sleeves down, and the shirt came off, followed by the trousers and underwear. The young man bent down and undid Chak's shoes for Chak to toe them off. The rest of his clothes followed and disappeared somewhere behind Tom.
Then Tom stood back and looked at Chak, bright eyes hungrily drinking in the dark-haired man's smooth chest, the raven bush of hair from which protruded a thick, fully engorged penis. Tom thought how much he wanted to please this man, how much he hoped he could give him pleasure, bring him to the same heights he'd just experienced. Shrugging helplessly, Tom wondered aloud, "What do I do now?"
Chak smiled, the dimples appearing long enough to let Tom know that the man wasn't upset with his inexperience. In fact, Chak was charmed by it. "What would you like to do?"
TOM PARIS: What an opening! "What would you like to do?" Gods, there were so many things *I* could have said, but none that Tom Payne would say. Poor kid. There was Chak looking like some golden god and there that boy was too tongue-tied to say anything intelligent at all. This was one of those times when playing an inexperienced virgin sucked.
"Um...." Tom found it difficult to put into words, much less say those words aloud. He gave Chak's chest a slight push and Chak seemed to understand. The dark body found its way to the bed where Chak lay on his back.
Hooded eyes followed Tom's every move as the younger man placed his longer, if slighter, body on top. Hesitantly, Tom kissed those waiting lips and rolled his groin against the hardness beneath him. Gathering his courage, Tom reached between their bodies and touched Chak's erection.
Chak groaned as if those fingers had fueled his arousal with warm embers. "That's it, keep doing that, Tom."
For his part, Tom didn't truly know what he was doing, but remembered those guilt-filled, solitary times spent pleasuring himself and guessed at what might feel good. Moving his body a little to the side of Chak's, he closed his hand around the other man's thrusting hardness and began to work up a rhythm. All the while, he kept his lips busy kissing the face and jaw and neck and lips of the man beneath him.
Tom sensed a shift in Chak's body, an answering rhythm strumming under him. In just moments, Tom's hand held a bucking, spurting wild creature that had taken on a life of its own. The fervent cries from Chak filled his ears with a sexual music. Tom didn't let go, nor was he asked to, he simply remained atop Chak's sweaty body.
As they calmed, Tom played his little finger along the softening flesh that lay quiescent between them. He didn't care that his stomach had become wet from Chak's ejaculate. Instead, he treasured this sign of his own power, his ability to satisfy the more practiced man.
"Thank you, Tom," came a soft whisper along with a light carding of his hair. A fingernail traced his eyebrow, a kiss closed his eye, and Tom rested his head against the other's shoulder. At some point, a blanket covered him.
He wasn't sure when it was that Chak gently shook him awake. "Tom. Let's get ready for bed."
"Mmm. We're in bed."
"It might be good to clean up somewhat. And I'd like to put on my nightshirt."
There was movement beneath him, he felt the bed shift when Chak left it, but Tom's eyes didn't want to open to see what was going on.
End Part 5
Part: NEW: 6/17
Summary and Warnings: See part 1.
Tom had no idea how long it was before Chak returned and lifted Tom's hand, a wet cloth wiping away the remnants of their earlier activity. He gave no resistence when Chak sat him up and pulled Tom's nightshirt on over his head, then pushed his arms through the sleeves.
A somewhat bemused voice told him, "You'll need to do the rest."
And Tom realized in his groggy state that he didn't want to pull that shirt all the way down to his calves. "No."
"No?" Chak chuckled.
"I want...I want your hand on me, I want to feel you." The room was lit only by the glow from the fireplace, but Tom's newly opened eyes saw Chak's dark ones gleam.
"You do?" Chak grinned.
Chak knelt on the bed and told him to move over. When Tom had done so, Chak lay down next to him and pulled the covers up over them. "Show me. Put my hand where you want it to be."
Tom couldn't see the hand, but found it by reaching around until he had it firmly clasped in his own. He curled his body on its side facing Chak who lay on his back. Without hesitation, he placed Chak's hand on his hip and slid it around until it rested on the lower part of his buttocks. "There."
"Good place. I like this," Chak murmured. He found Tom's lips in the dark and kissed them lightly. "Is it to your liking if I move my hand around a little? Like this?"
He rubbed beneath curving flesh, and Tom whispered, "Yes." Another light kiss pressed against Tom's lips.
Chak placed the edge of his hand in the cleft between cheeks. "And this?"
He moved his hand a little more until it was between the slender thighs that rested one on top of the other. "Here?"
Back to the original position and Tom's posterior wriggled against his hand as if making sure it was all there. Tom said, "Yes," before Chak could ask. This time Chak's kiss was as much tongue as it was lips.
He heard Tom's muted gasp and quickly withdrew his tongue. "Too much?"
Chak could sense the embarrassment that no doubt turned Tom's face red. "No one's done that to you before?" There was silence. "Tom?"
"Not...you know. I...I'm sorry, sir."
"It's just Chak, Tom, and you have nothing to be sorry for. If you don't let me what makes you uncomfortable, I could end up upsetting you or hurting you. I don't want to do that."
Chak received no answer but couldn't help but see the unhappiness on Tom's face. He gathered Tom into his arms, careful to keep one hand anchored on those firm bottom cheeks while he rubbed Tom's back with his other. Tom's warm body attempted to wrap itself tightly around him. Chak held him close and kissed Tom's forehead. "A lot has happened, hmm? There now, Tom. Think of this as a new experience."
He heard a sigh and Tom fell asleep in his arms. Chak patted the warm backside beneath his hand and settled into the bed.
By day their routines changed to fit their new relationship. Tom was routinely invited to take his meals with Chak and to share an after dinner drink in the library when Chak was free. Tom attended Sunday services in the village with the rest of the household members.
Of necessity, Chak continued to spend his days on work involving the estate while Tom tutored the children. However, the younger man was reluctant to intrude on Chak's time with his boys. During those times, he went for walks along the seaside cliffs or disappeared to his old room to work at his desk on lessons for the children.
Sir Charles explained the new arrangements to Mr. Scott. He indicated that Mr. Payne required continuing medical care. Scott didn't ask questions even though it wasn't clear that his secretary actually believed him.
Chak hadn't said anything to his sons, but when they were playing on the lawn together, Edward asked, "Father, why does Mr. Thomas sleep in your room?"
Chak tried the same explanation that Mr. Scott had not questioned. "He was sick and I needed to stay with him. Now he needs a little medical care."
Edward's face struggled with uncertainty. "Mother needed care. She died."
Chak tried to reassure the little boy. "Mr. Thomas isn't going to die."
"Good," Edward declared and ran across the lawn.
Chak didn't know whether to be relieved or worried.
Although intimate, physical contact continued to occupy much of their nighttimes, meals, walks, and quiet evenings in the library gave them time to get to know each other better. Gradually, Tom learned that Charles' brother Arthur was a ne'er do well. The younger brother had been barred from the estate by their father's edict.
TOM PARIS: Chak's history was interesting. The family obligations, the difficult younger brother. At first I thought Arthur might have been modeled on me. Later, I learned there was no way Arthur and I had anything in common.
Two of Chak's brothers had died in infancy as had a sister. Chak's mother died of a mysterious illness when Chak was at university. He'd cut short his education to return to the estate to help his grieving and aging father. Shortly before his father's death, Chak had married Jane Delacorte, daughter of a West Yorkshire squire.
Sitting in the library, a heavy evening fog beyond the walls, Tom was prodded to talk about himself. He became animated when he described his passion, yet his demeanor was shy, as if afraid of the other man's reaction. "I always wanted to be at the helm of a ship, one of the big clipper ships. Go around the world."
"What about your family?"
"My father's an admiral, I realize you know that. The family and some of the servants did go by ship to India once. I loved being on the sea. Um, Mother's a doting grandmother now. My sisters -- there are five older ones -- have seven children among them."
"Any younger brothers or sisters?"
"None that lived. Father always wanted more than one son. I believe my physical problems made me an unlikely prospect to carry on the Payne legacy."
The pinched expression on Tom's face transformed itself into a radiant smile. "No. I wouldn't be here otherwise, would I?"
"Come here, Tom." Chak held his arms open as the younger man walked over, his eyes never leaving Chak's smiling face. With ease that came with practice, Tom settled on his lover's lap, planted a light kiss on the man's lips, and sighed into the comforting embrace of someone he cared about. "I hope you'll tell me more about the things that matter to you."
Tom wanted to say 'you matter to me' but couldn't find the necessary courage. Instead of saying the words he longed to say, he sighed into the man's ear.
"Bed?" Chak asked, touching the tight buttocks that had become so familiar to him.
As part of their new routines, mornings and evenings he physically inspected Tom's healing anus. He asked about Tom's regularity and was reassured that all was going well. Occasionally, he checked Tom's temperature and had been satisfied to find that it had been normal each time. He was also gratified to see Tom's acceptance of the questions, the checking, the touches. Although Tom had not lost his blushing response to these additions to his daily life, he never protested. In fact, being touched inevitably seemed to bring about pleasure and arousal in both men.
This night, Chak felt that Tom was ready to accept one of the dilators. He broached the subject after Tom had climbed into bed with him, after they had mutually pleasured each other with their hands. Someday, he would like to have the tutor's mouth around his aroused flesh, and someday he wanted to bury himself in the tight depths of that beautiful youth, but Tom was not yet ready and he didn't want to hurry him.
However, Chak knew the physical condition which had brought Tom to such misery would only reoccur if no action was taken. Guardedly, Chak suggested, "Shall we try one of the dilators tonight?"
Without words, Tom gave his consent. "I'll need to use the syringe first," Chak warned. Then he added, "I think it can be done fairly quickly."
With a kiss, he hoped to chase the fearful look off Tom's face. The wan smile told him he had only been partially successful. For Tom's sake, he wished he had the power to wave away these difficult situations. Yet, he had to admit, there was something powerfully erotic about the various ways in which he had surrogates penetrate the younger man's secret depths.
Assembling a bowl of warm water and Tom's syringe, he helped Tom into position across his lap. After a few rubs to the small anus, with his oiled finger he inserted the nozzle of the full syringe and slowly released its contents into the waiting depths. He repeated the process six times, massaging Tom's belly when a cramp hit, then held the syringe in place between those pale buttocks. As he worked, he spoke softly to the slightly trembling youth, trying to ease the tutor's embarrassment.
Although he hoped his words were helping Tom, he also wanted Tom to understand the meaning of the proud erection that swelled into Tom's pelvis. In this situation, the syringe so solidly inserted into Tom's rectum did indeed play the role of surrogate. Very lightly, he pushed it in a little more deeply, pulled it out until the nozzle merely parted the anus, then he twisted the nozzle around so that it stimulated what he hoped was pleasure for Tom.
Indeed, there was a shift in Tom's body across his lap as the younger man's erection sought relief. Moving the syringe a few last times and finding his heart speeding up at Tom's responsiveness, Chak reluctantly removed the syringe and placed it in the bowl.
Although he was breathing heavily, Tom lay still otherwise, as if waiting for instructions. "You've been very good, Tom, I'm very proud of you. Now go take care of yourself."
He gave the waiting bottom a swat and watched Tom pad across the room to the bath chamber, his hand print fading as Tom walked away. Groaning, he realized how much more he wanted contact with that youthful body.
While waiting, Chak found his thoughts diverted briefly to business matters. Sighing to himself, he wondered if Lord Morton would ever take no for an answer. However, he didn't like thinking of business just now and decided to act on his earlier words.
He brought a box of dilators out of the wardrobe and set it beside him on the bed. With relief, he found that his aroused member had subsided to somewhere between tumescent and quiescent. When Tom returned, a shy look on his face, his own erection faded, he sat in the place Chak indicated. They were so close to each other that both men's shoulders touched. Chak selected the smallest plug from the box, held it up for Tom's inspection.
"How does it work?" Tom asked.
"I'll prepare you first, then I'll slowly push it up inside you. We'll leave it in for about an hour. If you have to remove it before then, let me know."
Tom wasn't sure he could go through with this. It wasn't like the thermometer he'd grown used to, this was bigger and it was going to stay for an hour, not just a few minutes. "Chak?"
"Hmm?" The older man waited patiently, a solid presence beside him.
Tom's eyes settled on the carved wood. He found himself fascinated by it, imagining it's hard shape being placed inside him by the loving man who excited him as no one ever had. This would be a first step toward achieving his dream of being joined together with Chak, flesh within flesh. "Yes."
"What would be easiest for you? Do you want to lie down on the bed? Lie across my lap again? Sit on my lap?"
"The...the second way," Tom managed to choose, his nervousness making him stutter. To his relief, Chak placed a warm palm to his back and rubbed gently.
"Sir, huh?" Devilish dimples accompanied a one-handed tickling to his ribs.
And all of a sudden he was over the man's lap, his cheeks opened wide by a thick hand. A gentle, slick finger worked its way inside preparing him in a familiar, warm pattern.
Chak advised, "I'm going to put it in, now."
Tom felt as ready as he could be. But he wasn't able to avoid tensing up when that wooden head began to press into him. He imagined it going in and not ever coming out. He feared anyone who saw him the next day would instantly know what had filled his rectum for so long. He jumped when Chak touched his back.
CHAKOTAY: I wasn't sure Tom would go through with it, my Tom or Tom Payne. My Tom seemed to think a wooden dildo was a diabolical instrument of torture at best. However, both Toms seemed to get into the spirit of things. I couldn't guess in what direction things would go.
"There now, Tom, you're doing fine. Tell me how it feels."
"Strange. Like I want to push it out."
"That's normal, but you should become adjusted to it. Let me know if you have trouble."
"All right," Tom agreed and wondered if he would ever become used to this.
Then Chak pulled him up, caressed his bottom in that intimate way, and kissed him from his forehead to his throat.
They lay together for an hour, Chak dozing while Tom slept at his side. Deeming enough time to have passed, Chak reached beyond the drawn drapes to the lamp on the bedside table and turned it up enough to see by. He pushed the blankets down to uncover them both.
As had become his custom in Chak's bed, Tom slept in a short nightshirt. When Tom stood, the nightshirt barely reached his thighs. With Tom lying on his stomach, the shirt bunched to his waist, that lovely, smooth posterior was fully accessible for viewing, touching, exploring. Based on his visual inspection, Chak found that the dilator had remained in place.
Moistening his fingertips with oil, Chak reached over, nudged the legs apart with his knee and used the slick drops on his fingers to freshly lubricate the muscle stretched so tightly around the securely seated plug. Tom murmured something too low to hear, as if still asleep. In response to Chak's touch, Tom unconsciously tightened and released the dilator-separated cheeks of his rear.
Chak grasped the rim of the plug and began to tug. He stopped for a moment at a whimper from Tom, but the tired youth slept on.
Without analyzing why, Chak knew he was glad that Tom was such a heavy sleeper. Maybe it was the sense of freedom that he felt because he needn't guard his expression at his pleasure in the things he did to Tom's unprotesting, seemingly willing body.
Smoothing more oil under the rim of the dilator, Chak twisted it and pulled more strongly on the end of it. He watched in fascination at the way Tom's body responded. That reddened, stretched muscle seemed to pulse around the plug, giving it up as reluctantly as a caught trout gives up life. With a popping sound, the plump head left the warmth of Tom's secret sanctuary.
The muscle itself changed in a slow journey from being stretched around unyielding wood to becoming an open, dark hole until it finally spasmed into a tight, nearly invisible protector of Tom's inmost regions. Although he wanted so much to place his own hard manhood into that heated, prepared passageway, Chak had to content himself with simply pressing his finger lightly to the spot. Surprisingly, the finger slid inside immediately, as if invited.
The desire to keep his finger in place won out over the urge to turn down the lamp that was too far away for him to do both at the same time. Without difficulty, however, he pulled the curtains fully closed around the bed. Dark enough, he decided.
Safely inside their retreat on the four-poster bed, Chak arranged himself on his side, kissed the back of the sleeping, fair head beside him, brought up the covers, and settled in to sleep. That his finger remained lodged inside Tom seemed only right.
He resisted the urge to stroke the most sensitive part of that interior area. There was so much he wanted to do with Tom, so much he wanted to show this young man about his own body. He knew he had to go slowly and to respect the trust Tom had placed in him. Once they overcame the hurdle about kissing with tongues, then it might be time to introduce Tom to that highly responsive, incredibly pleasurable center hidden so well in the depths of his rectum.
End Part 6
Part: NEW: 7/17
Summary and Warnings: See part 1.
In the morning, Tom woke up with a raging erection.
But the warm body Tom expected to find in the bed with him had gone missing. A strange, but not unpleasant, ache could be felt in his arse. He almost smiled at himself for the coarse language he was beginning to use. Well brought up young men did not use such words as 'arse', but neither did they allow the kinds of intimacies he'd permitted, even welcomed, with his employer.
He didn't remember the dilator being removed, but since it was gone, he assumed Chak had taken it out sometime in the night. It seemed strange to feel as if something had been left inside him all night.
However, Tom sensed that he couldn't make too much of the fact that he was aroused. He awoke like that most mornings. It was a condition he'd tried, he thought successfully, to hide from Chak. After all, well bred young men weren't supposed to require physical release of this sort. But since Chak wasn't in the room, Tom gave in to the urgency of his needs, fought off the guilt that accompanied these actions, and brought himself to climax.
Based on reading a note addressed to him and left on a table top, Tom learned that Sir Charles had been called away for the day on urgent estate business. During his time at Havenwood, he found such trips occurred fairly frequently. Before they'd become close, the head of the household had been away often, sometimes for several days or more.
Wondering what had called Chak away, but too polite to ask Mr. Scott, Tom went about his daily activities as usual. He conducted his lessons with John and Edward and played a game with them after dinner. Once Nurse took them off to bed, he found himself alone in his old room. He read for awhile but found it hard to concentrate.
Chak hadn't returned yet and it was almost bedtime. He felt fairly sure that his benefactor must have found lodging for the night, after all, it was late. But sitting at his desk, Tom felt uneasy. Was it possible that something had happened to Chak? Or was it more likely that the man had decided to end whatever it was they had begun and just didn't want to tell him? As a consequence, was he simply removing himself until Tom left the estate?
In Chak's absence it was easy to have doubts about what such an accomplished man saw in someone who was so inexperienced. Not only that, Tom realized he had a physical defect that should drive away the most stoic of men. Tom worried over these threats to his growing attraction to the handsome, worldly man who had taken him to his bed. He wondered if he should have been more careful to ask Chak whether he truly wanted him to stay in the face of the daunting medical regime Chak believed to be necessary. Why would such a fine man tie himself to someone who was so dependent on his help?
Tom didn't know what to do about these haunting fears. Chak wasn't here. And he couldn't quite figure out the most immediate of concerns. Should he stay the night in his old room? Chak had never said anything about whether Tom was welcome to spend the night in the upstairs rooms in his absence. He struggled with what was expected of him.
Finally, he put down the book he was reading and rang for tea. As he sat hunched over, still deeply lost in thought, Mr. Scott knocked.
"Mr. Scott?" Tom was surprised to see the secretary carrying a tray of tea into the room.
"I intercepted the girl and hoped you wouldn't mind?"
"No. Of course not. Please, sit down." Tom motioned to a chair beside his desk.
Mr. Scott poured two cups and offered one to Tom. The two men, one a grandfather, the other a youth, sipped in companionable silence for a few moments.
"It is good to see you in this part of the house again." Scott observed.
"I haven't been here much of late," Tom acknowledged, then lapsed into silence, taking sips from his teacup. Finally, he asked, "Do you believe Sir Charles will return tonight?"
"I don't believe so. His business must have taken longer than he thought."
"That's what I surmised," Tom agreed. He bought some time by taking a sip of the tea. Its warmth and mild flavor easily went down his throat.
"I dare say I'm gratified to see Sir Charles happy again."
Tom was totally startled by the comment. "You think he is?"
"Yes, I'm quite convinced of it."
Almost a dozen things to say went through Tom's mind but he couldn't voice them lest he forget his place as a newcomer to Havenwood. He nodded and sipped his tea.
Mr. Scott finished up. "He will no doubt return tomorrow, Mr. Thomas. Don't fret."
Tom gave the man an uncertain smile. "Thank you, Mr. Scott."
Scott stopped at the doorway. "Sir Charles is concerned about you. I believe he'd want you to sleep upstairs in his absence."
Once again Tom was caught without a suitable reply. Blinking in surprise, at length he said, "Perhaps you're right. But I think I'll stay in my old room tonight."
"Night, Mr. Thomas."
"Night, Mr. Scott, and thank you for bringing round the tea."
Although very few words had been exchanged, Tom realized that Mr. Scott had signaled his approval of Tom's move upstairs. That helped to ease the unaccustomed loneliness he'd felt all day.
Tom saw no need to change the sleep routines he had recently adopted. Even if he did not have Chak beside him, he could go to bed attired as if the man were simply in the bath chamber, about to join him momentarily. Tom slipped into one of his new, short nightshirts that fell to just below his bottom. A strong ache in his heart made him realize that he missed Chak.
The harsh hand gripping his backside wasn't what woke him. Instead, it was the razor sharp knife to his throat and the gruffly spoken words, "Don't move," that brought him to a terrified awareness. "Nod if you understand me."
He was too scared to move. The knife shifted just enough for him to give a short nod. He couldn't see the man who pressed him stomach down into the bed, but it wasn't from lack of adequate light in the room. The stranger must have turned up the lamp. He did have an impression of a large, heavy intruder. And there was a very cold breeze in the room from what could only be an open window. He smelled the salt air of the sea even as he sniffed his own fear.
The knife returned its sharp edge to his throat. He could feel the blood seeping from his skin under the blade. The man spoke again in a demanding growl. "Tell me your name. Be quick and be quiet about it."
"Thomas Payne." He wasn't sure how the words came out of his dry throat, how he managed to speak without having the knife cut him further.
"So," the stranger mused, "you're the boy my brother's been buggering."
Tom tried to shake his head but the knife wouldn't let him move and his spoken, "No," came out strangled, maybe unrecognizable.
Tom heard a snort as he realized the man had said 'his brother'. This must be Arthur. Why was this man here?
"I'm going to kill you."
How was he going to get out of this? The tight hand on his rear kneaded the muscle ruthlessly. He was going to die with bruises on his bottom. If he couldn't move his head without risking a torn throat, he could at least try to shift his body out from under that painful grip.
He didn't get far when sharp slaps fell like hail, raining down blows that alternately pounded his bare buttocks into the bed and lifted him off it. But the man seemed distracted enough by his actions that he momentarily moved the knife away. Tom surged upward and tried to dive off the bed. Arthur's fist crashed into the side of his face, stunning him and sending shock reeling through his body. He succeeded in falling to the floor where Arthur was immediately upon him.
A threatened blow was halted by a knock to the door. "Mr. Thomas? Is everything all right?"
Arthur's face promised damage as he warned sotto voce, "Tell him you are well."
Tom tried to think. This might be his only chance to save himself. Where was the knife? There. In Arthur's hand nearing his throat once again. His first effort to speak brought only a pathetic squeak. Tom tried again, "Uh, all's well here, Mr. Sean."
"I heard a thud."
"Just a...a nightmare, Mr. Sean."
Tom closed his eyes, praying Mr. Scott would understand that he'd deliberately misspoken the secretary's name twice. When Tom opened his eyes, only one eye could see. The other had puffed shut. He saw Arthur standing over him, the knife in his hand still close enough to kill.
"I better leave now, you bloody little catamite." Tom hoped the man meant he was going to leave without killing him first. Then Arthur threatened, "But I'm going to take you away from Charles just like he took Havenwood away from me. I'll bugger you until you die, you bloody slut."
After almost spitting the words in his face, the large man moved surprisingly easily through the open window and vanished. That was when Tom began to shake so hard he couldn't answer the knock that came once again to his door.
Mr. Scott entered the room, a shotgun in one hand, a lamp in the other. He immediately took in the open window, the disheveled boy shivering on the floor in his short nightgown, fear on the battered face, blood on his neck.
"What is it, Mr. Thomas? What happened here?"
Through shivers that had his teeth chattering, Tom managed to say, "Ar...Arthur. He said...he said he's going to kill me."
On his ride back home, Sir Charles noticed an unusual level of activity on the estate grounds. Groups composed of his staff and their families stood about talking with each other. Dropping off his horse at the stables, Chak slung heavy saddlebags over his shoulder and headed for the kitchen entrance of the main house. Before he reached the door, his boys flew across the yard at him and he had no choice but to pick up each in his arms.
"Father!" chorused both children almost simultaneously.
"What is it?" Charles laughed, overwhelmed by their enthusiastic greeting.
The boys didn't seem to be able to tell him. But it looked as if Mr. Scott had a lot on his mind as the secretary greeted him at the door and relieved him of the saddlebags. Setting down his boys, Charles lifted an inquiring eyebrow at Scott.
The man's bushy, grey eyebrows spoke waggling volumes in return. Chak sent the boys off and was relieved to see Nurse Carter shooing them upstairs.
Pouring himself a cup of tea, Chak sat down wearily. "What's going on? Why isn't Mr. Thomas with the children?" Based on Mr. Scott's expression, he guessed something involved Tom. "Is Thomas ill?"
Mr. Scott held up a hand. "There was a disturbance last night, sir. Mr. Thomas was not seriously hurt, but he was attacked."
"What do you mean 'attacked'?"
"Arthur broke in, held a knife to Mr. Thomas, hit him, and threatened to kill him."
Chak surged to his feet. "No!"
"He will recover shortly, sir," Scott spoke in soothing tones. "And that tutor's a quick thinker. Clued me in. I almost had a chance to use my shotgun on Arthur." Mr. Scott sounded regretful at the lost opportunity.
"Where is Tom?"
"Asleep in my room."
"He's on the trundle bed, you know, the one I have for my grandchildren's visits. He finally went to sleep after I gave him nearly half a pint of brandy last night."
"That much?" Chak asked as they walked out of the kitchen and down the hall toward Scott's room.
"He needed it, sir. Mr. Thomas couldn't stop shivering."
"I had better see to him." They stopped at the closed door. Chak ran his hand through thick, dark hair. "You said he was hit. How?"
"The boy has a fair black eye. And bruises on his rump." Chak gave Scott a sharp look. "No. I don't think there was more than bruising."
Chak took a deep breath. "Very well."
Patting the saddlebags, Mr. Scott asked, "Shall I have these taken these upstairs, sir?"
"Please." Chak opened the door and found Tom asleep just as Scott had described. The trundle bed was too short for the tall tutor and his feet, free of blankets, hung out over the end of the bed. Long, curly hair framed Tom's face, one arm crooked up towards his head. Charles was reminded of his first impression of Tom that he was still a boy in his teens. He opened the shutters to let in more light.
Sighing deeply, Chak crossed the room and took a seat on Mr. Scott's bed only two feet from where Tom lay sleeping. He had to calm himself before he could talk to Tom. That Arthur would invade his home, harm this innocent tutor made him livid. He took a few deep, calming breaths.
Although Chak hated disturbing him, he had to know what had happened. Keeping his voice soft, Chak called, "Tom, Tom."
Despite the quietness of the words, Tom woke up startled. He frowned when he saw Chak and sat up, blinking and groaning. A purple-black bruise had swelled shut his left eye.
"Tom? What's wrong?"
"My head. Dear God."
"Mr. Scott says you owe him half a pint of brandy." Charles tried to keep his tone light and his anxiety and anger tamped down.
Tom held his head in his hands.
"What happened last night?"
Tom gazed at him through one blood-shot eye. "He said you were his brother. He wanted to kill me." Tom repeated the events of the night in a dull monotone. "He said he'd take me away from you like you took Havenwood from him. He said he'd kill me."
"What did he do to you?"
Some emotion finally cracked the numb recitation. "He...he had a knife."
Tom lifted his chin and Chak could see the dried blood that dotted his throat. Tom explained, "It's just scratches."
Standing over Tom, Chak held the chin in one hand and touched the dots of blood with the other hand. Tom didn't flinch and Chak could see nothing deeper than a scratch that he might have gotten from a thorny hedge. "What else?"
"He pounded on my backside. I think he left bruises." Without being told, Tom lay down on his stomach and pulled up the nightshirt enough to uncover his buttocks.
Chak saw red-blue bruising in the shape of fingers, as if Arthur had gripped and squeezed tightly. A large pink area bloomed, darker in color than the white of Tom's thighs and back. Clearly, Arthur had hit Tom hard and repeatedly.
CHAKOTAY: I felt Chak's anger as if it were my own. Those bruises. I hated seeing them on Tom's body. I'm Tom's lover, and yes, I know, he's a grown-up, but somehow I feel as though I should protect him. And if I feel that here in the 24th C. on a modern starship, I could imagine how upset Chak would feel when his own brother attacked Tom on his estate. Neither Chak nor I like to feel helpless when it comes to protecting someone we love.
"Does it hurt?" Chak asked, touching the fingermarks.
"Not like my eye does."
Chak pulled down the shirt and brought up the blankets as Tom turned over onto his back. Chak returned to his perch on Mr. Scott's bed, heaving a great sigh as he did so.
Tom sat up, wincing, his shoulders slumping. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault, Tom."
"I didn't know where to sleep, so I slept in my old room. He came in the window. I didn't think to lock the shutters."
"You didn't do anything wrong."
The look on Tom's face said otherwise. Tom was the picture of dejection and fear. Chak knew he couldn't let Tom remain convinced that any of this was his fault. He switched positions and sat next to Tom.
It was as if the intimacy of the past several weeks had never occurred. Tom seemed so distant, so closed in on himself.
TOM PARIS: I knew there was this loose cannon brother, but I didn't expect that attack. You'd think my Starfleet training would have kicked into place and allowed me to send Arthur into the next county. Instead it was me who got my ass kicked. Kind of literally, too. I think the surprise of my failure helped me to stay in character when I wanted to swear in English, French, Federation Standard, Klingon, and the juicy words in Talaxian I'd learned from Neelix. But did I? Nope. I just sat there like some kid who got beat up by the school-yard bully. I guess I was pretty damn disappointed with myself.
End Part 7
Part: NEW: 8/17
Summary and Warnings: See part 1.
"How can I make this up to you?" Chak asked quietly.
"I left you alone, I didn't give you any indication that those rooms upstairs are not just my rooms anymore. They're *our* rooms. Do you understand?"
Chak smiled, appreciating Tom's honesty. "Tom, I didn't invite you upstairs to *my* room. I wanted that space to become ours, something we shared. If you want to change something there, the color of the curtains, the dresser you use, whatever, just say so. I want you to think you belong there. Do you understand now?"
Tom frowned and then winced as his hurt eye registered its dislike of the movement. "So...that's my room, too?"
"It is if you let it be."
"He called me a 'bloody little catamite'," Tom blurted out.
"Arthur can be very crude. You know I don't think of you that way, Tom, not at all. Yes, I enjoy what we do. I think you do, too. If you don't, I hope you'll tell me. But you in no way resemble Arthur's characterization."
Chak thought of other things he could say to nail down that point, something about where he had been last night after his business was concluded, but he decided there would come a better time.
Uncertainty flitted across Tom's face. And then he nearly succumbed to the emotions he'd been holding in. All the doubts and feelings of unworthiness overwhelmed him. He sat defeated, his face a portrait of terrible distress.
Chak pulled Tom to him, placed his arms around Tom's shoulders, patted Tom's hair. "It shall be all right. I promise you, I will not let Arthur hurt you."
"I am not a bloody catamite," Tom asserted finally, focusing on the aspect of the attack that had wounded him most, his pride.
"No, of course you aren't. You are a beautiful young man and I care about you very much."
Tom shuddered in his arms and Chak tightened his hold. They sat together, each absorbed in thoughts that centered about Arthur, yet, at the same time, they drew comfort from the other's presence. Tom felt protected and Chak felt needed. Eventually, Sir Charles rang and arranged for a warm bath to be drawn in his chambers.
After the bath, Tom looked and felt better. His head still hurt, but the hard soreness in his muscles had worked down to a dull ache. Nonetheless, he wondered about what Chak had said to him. The sharing of the rooms, the declarations of fondness. What did it mean?
He didn't have a chance to follow-up during the afternoon and early evening as Chak met with his retainers over Arthur's trespass and assault. Tom read for awhile in the library, but couldn't tell what he'd read, the words were meaningless to him. He put the book down and stood by one of the large windows, gazing out at the bleak autumn evening, his head aching.
CHAKOTAY: I'm still musing over the way Tom added abuse and attempted rape to his character's background. And now, his character's been attacked by Arthur who wants to rape and kill him. Tom had no way of knowing this was going to happen. I didn't even know it. Hell, I didn't program this. I'll have to ask Tom if he had some premonition of trouble to come. I mean, it's possible the background was simply to give more depth to the character as I first thought. But it's possible Tom had other reasons, something I'll have to ask him about. If he'll let me.
Wrapping his arms around his chest as if he could protect himself from the ugly words inside his head, Tom felt so unclean he thought he could never rid himself of the filth of Arthur's assault. The accusations, the implications that the whole world thought Sir Charles was buggering him rattled Tom thoroughly. He shuddered at the word Arthur had used, its crudeness troubling him in a way he didn't understand. And he wasn't sure why he had withheld this information. Tom knew only the searing shame that flamed his face whenever he thought about the idea that Arthur and others thought Chak would use him in that fashion.
"Tom?" Chak's soft voice floated to him from a place just behind and to the side of him.
He brought himself back to the here and now and gave the man a wan smile.
"How are you doing?"
Tom shrugged and took a deep breath. "Fine."
"Let's go upstairs for awhile."
With just a quick touch to his back, Chak steered him out of the library. They walked in silence to the bedroom upstairs, but once there, Tom stood at a loss. Chak poured them each a drink, took a seat on the bed, and motioned to the place beside him. "Sit with me?"
Conflicting emotions came into play. Tom had such a strong need to be clean that he thought he would take the water syringe to himself if only Charles would leave him alone. On the other hand, he wanted the comfort he saw waiting for him. Comfort won out and he sat down hip to hip with Chak and accepted the drink that was offered.
Brushing his fingertips to Tom's uninjured cheek, Chak spoke earnestly. "Tom. In here, we can say and do whatever we want, whatever we need to. It's private, it's just us."
Tom nodded but struggled against blurting out that the whole of England knew an untruth about them.
"What is it? I know you're troubled and I want to help." What could he say? "Did my brother...did he do more than you've told me? Did he penetrate you?"
Tom recoiled in horror and took a gulp of the burning liquor. Whiskey, he identified as if a part of him lived and acted normally while a different Tom had to deal with talking about what Arthur had done. "No. At least I don't think so. I don't remember. And if he had, I should have felt it?"
"You're a deep sleeper. Perhaps there were things done to you while you were sleeping that you were not aware of, but maybe you sensed these things?"
Shaking his head, Tom looked down at his hands nervously wrapped around the glass. White knuckles, like snow covered mountains, played hide and seek under the skittering clouds of his fingers. With nowhere to run, Tom just blurted it out. "He said I was the one you were buggering. How could he say that? How could he make it sound as if everyone knew? It's not even true!"
Tom watched for revulsion and rejection from Chak but all he saw was sympathy and pain. "I'm so sorry, Tom."
"I feel so dirty! Like I have to clean myself inside and outside. Like...like I have to be punished."
"No, Tom. You haven't done anything wrong. I have."
"Here." Chak took their glasses and set them aside. He was pleased to see that Tom had almost finished his. The alcohol should allow Tom to accept more easily the private world Chak needed to disclose to him. He knew the drink helped him to be able to say the words. Chak lay down on the bed and pulled Tom beside him so they lay side by side. "I have some secrets to confess."
Tom couldn't have been more surprised. He had half expected the other to agree with his own self-assessment, much as his headmaster or father might have, and take advantage of the opportunity to administer punishment and a brutal interior cleansing. After all, it was what he felt he deserved. Tom didn't expect Chak to express guilt. Tom did not think that Chak was responsible for the actions of his brother.
Encouraged by Chak's embrace of him, Tom snuggled his head against the other man's chest, feeling a little lightheaded by the whiskey. He could hear the rhythmic thumping of the heart under his ear.
After a short silence, Chak began to talk. "Tom, I do believe the devices that I want to use on you have a clear medical purpose, that they will eventually help you. But there is more to it than that. I would never put it as crudely as my brother did, but I hope that someday we will be so close that we will share totally in giving pleasure to each other's bodies. There is so much I want to show you, teach you, do with you, have you do with me. I want the closeness that comes with complete intimacy. Do you understand, Tom?"
Tom understood but he was stunned. He knew such arrangements had existed in school and at university. But no others had acted as if they were interested in him, other than the one headmaster. For his part, he'd been too shy to seek out another boy. When Charles asked again, he managed to tell him, "Yes."
Under his head, Charles' chest rose steeply and then fell. "And you are sickened by my desires?"
Tom sat up so that he could see better with his one good eye. "No. No. I...I'm...I want...."
Chak's next words held him as if pinned. "Do you want the same thing?"
Did he? He felt bewildered, more confused than he'd ever been. His body responded every time to Chak's touch, he wanted more and more of it. He felt as if he would do anything for the other man, would allow any liberty. He had never experienced himself this way before.
He had never considered being with a man, never imagined sexual intimacy of the kind Chak was proposing. Yet...hadn't he? Every time Chak treated him, tested his temperature, prepared him, hadn't his body and his soul wanted so much more? Hesitantly, as if unsure that he should speak out loud about his own desires, Tom said, "Yes."
"Good." Seeing the clear relief on Chak's face made Tom realize how much his answer had meant.
"Now. I have to tell you more. Come back down here?" Tom obediently lay back in Chak's arms. "I belong to a club. It's called the West Devon Astronomy Club, and we do have a telescope. Someday I'll show you the planets and stars. I think you would like that. But we do a lot more than watch the stars."
Chak took a deep breath. He had to have this piece of the secret world he inhabited out in the open between them. "We...the members such as myself...we go there to be satisfied. Sexually. By willing young men."
Tom froze. His Chak? With someone else?
"I'm so sorry, Tom. I would rather be with you, but I find myself unable to take advantage of you."
Abruptly, Tom sat up again and stared at the man as if wondering if an imposter were in bed with them.
"Tom. Please. Say something?"
The protests leaped out of Tom's throat even as heat rushed to his face. "I don't want you to be with anyone else."
He watched Chak swallow. "I have needs, Tom."
"So do I." He thought over the times he'd been with Chak. "Did I...did I do something wrong?"
"No." Chak brushed at Tom's devastated face. "No. I have. I should have waited until you were ready. I should have told you how I felt about you."
Chak made sure that Tom was looking at him when he confided, "Tom, if you don't know, I love you."
Chak pushed himself up so that he sat facing Tom and waited for the other's reaction. He didn't know if he'd just said the most stupid words he'd ever spoken or if he had finally learned to be honest about his feelings. This very vulnerable, very brave young man seemed to bring out the strongest emotions in him, ones he had not felt in many years.
With all the considerable sincerity he felt, Chak told him, "Tom, I want you. Here. With me, in my bed, in my life. I want you every way it is possible for a man to want another. I will go as slowly as you need. I will wait for whatever you require to allow me to show you how much I love you."
Tom sat there stunned. Love? Chak loved him?
"Tom. You need not say anything. I hope that you will return my affections, but you don't have to say that. I know I'm older than you, have been married, have children. You have so many choices ahead of you. Being with me could be difficult. For you, for your family. I...."
Throwing up his hands, Tom finally smiled and shook his head. "I thought you were staying away because you felt I was too much trouble. That perhaps you wanted me to pack up and leave while you were gone. I stayed, but I just didn't know."
Tom pointed out, "I have very little experience, none with men. In fact, I've had one adventure. My parents and hers arranged supervised visits for us, you know, hoping there would be a courtship. And I liked her and she liked me. So, we eluded the chaperone and found a private place and...."
"And you did what young people do?" Chak grinned at him.
"Yes," Tom laughed back. "How did you know?"
"I was your age once. But, Tom, if that was something you enjoyed, perhaps you should consider your available choices and go courting." Chak spoke against his own self-interest, but felt he had to say something. If the young man liked women, then that should be his destiny. Under such circumstances, a relationship between Tom and himself would never work for very long.
"That isn't what I want. It was...exciting to do what we did. It seemed like such a terrible risk. What if we had been caught? But something felt missing for me." Although Tom stumbled in what he was trying to say, he hoped Chak understood.
Chak knew he could avoid the question no longer. He could think of no euphemism to disguise his true interest. Quietly, holding Tom to him, he asked, "Have you been attracted to men or other boys?"
"I'm not sure." Tom blushed remembering the longings he sometimes felt but had been too shy to act on. "I feel so much for you. It is not like anything I've ever felt before. I want...I want to give you what I have, what I am. I...it's as if every part of me should have some part of you next to me. I want everything you want to show me. I want to give myself to you. I want to trust you and love you."
Tom paused. His next words were difficult to say. "I don't know if I know what love is. But if I give you all I am, then maybe that is because I love you?"
Chak took Tom's cold hands in his own, ran his fingers across the smooth skin on the backs of the hands. He felt overwhelmed by Tom's honesty. "Thank you, Tom. I hope you will find me worthy of your trust."
Tom colored. "Just refrain from returning to that Club. Can I ask that of you?"
"Yes, you can. If I ever go back, you will be with me."
With a grin, the young tutor asked, "And we'll look at the stars?"
"We'll look at the stars," Chak assured him. A wicked thought surfaced: And I will have my own telescope inside you. "Tom. Is there anything else?"
"You seem to like men. And you know that you do. Why did you get married?"
A sad look settled on Chak's features. "My family expected it of me, first born and all. Because of Arthur's behavior, they knew he would be incapable of carrying on the family name. It was up to me."
The sad expression changed to anger. "Tom...I don't think you want to know."
Tom waited patiently. "Maybe I don't but perhaps I should."
"Growing up, there were dead animals, cats, dogs, lambs..." Chak shook his head. "Arthur tortured and killed them."
Tom sensed there was more. "He was younger than you by how much?"
"He hurt you?"
"Sometimes." After a pensive moment, Chak grinned. "Fortunately, we were sent to different schools. I ended up bigger than him and, one time when we were both home, I beat him up. I was fourteen."
"Your parents knew?"
"Eventually they understood that there was something wrong with Arthur. I said little, but they knew nonetheless." Chak turned to the subject of his marriage. "My marriage was arranged. Yet I grew to love Jane and respected her. I had the club to take care of my needs in private. It was as if I carried on two lives, a very conventional one with my wife and family and a different life at the club."
"Different?" Tom asked, his curiosity piqued. Tom's heartbeat sped up as he waited for Chak's answer. It was hardly possible that Chak could help him with his own less conventional needs.
"And I suppose you want to know about this, too?"
"Yes." Tom looked directly into the dark black eyes and hoped Chak could read the desires that lurked behind Tom's request.
"I like to exert my control over the young men at the club," Chak told him guardedly, watching Tom's reaction.
"How?" Tom wanted to hear words that would tell him if long held secret desires of his own might someday find a way to be met.
"I use various devices, a catheter, enemas, dilators. Sometimes I tie up their privates so they are unable to gain release. I spread their testicles with leather ties. I spank them and sometimes whip them. And I give them pleasure even as I take my own."
Chak spoke matter-of-factly, wondering if he would have confessed to these activities if he hadn't had that drink. And if he didn't desire to share these very same activities with Tom. The heated pressure that spread from his groin throughout his body told him how much he wanted Tom.
For Tom, those words were both hypnotic and possessed of an erotic power that left him dry-mouthed and breathless. But as Tom thought of his own less than exotic-seeming needs, he blushed furiously.
TOM PARIS: Before we went on the holodeck, the background Chakotay gave me on Sir Charles included membership in some private club. But he sure surprised me when he described all those activities. And I wondered: How much of this was Sir Charles and how much was Chakotay? If Charles confessed all of this because he wanted to do them with Tom Payne, did Chakotay also want to do them with me? It was as if something was being worked out in this holonovel that was a lot kinkier than either of us had ever revealed to the other. Hell, I went into this so I could have his fist fuck me up the ass. But something way beyond that was going on here.
"Tom. Tell me what you need. There's no cause to feel ashamed or embarrassed. Remember we can do what we want in this room." Tom seemed to struggle to make a response. "My dear Tom."
Perhaps it was the endearment spoken so tenderly that gave Tom the courage he needed to broach his own needs. "I need to be clean."
Tom's plea took Chak by surprise. "I understand. Will you let me help you?"
"Well, I have no wish to do it myself."
Chak laughed. He closed the distance between himself and Tom and planted a firm kiss on those bow-shaped lips. Moving back a little he saw amazement and realized he just might have something else by which he could surprise Tom. "Have you ever had your bladder cleaned by having it filled from the outside with water?"
"You can do that?" was Tom's startled response.
"I have and I will."
End part 8
Part: NEW: 9/17
Summary and Warnings: See part 1.
Arthur reached his sanctuary undetected. It was an unnamed, unmarked cave he occasionally used as a base of operations when he wanted to move about the estate without having to travel great distances. Located in the side of the cliff above the sea, the cave's entrance was hidden by a thicket. He'd found it as a boy, had kept it a secret, and, over the years, had furnished it with some necessities, including a small pot-bellied stove that vented out over the sea, the smoke blending with the ocean's mist.
With his back to the cave wall, a lantern nearby, a blanket around him, Arthur smirked to himself at how easy it had been to gain access to his brother's lover. He replayed the events in his mind, happy at the fear he'd induced and the damage he'd begun to inflict. He delighted in the images of his hand gripping those pale, white buttocks, of the hard blows he'd delivered to that firm young bottom. He couldn't wait to do that, and more, all over again.
Eventually, he'd get around to killing the slut. But before that, he'd take everything that body could give him. He'd turn his brother's lover into his own plaything. First, Arthur plotted, there would be a little campaign of terror. Random attacks and random violence would soften up the little slut for the games Arthur planned to play when he had the boy under his control. What a delicious revenge on his brother, Arthur thought, holding his grudges as close to him as the stove held its heat.
Chak guided the nightshirt-clad Tom to the bath chamber and had him lay on his back, long, bare legs stretched out to the ends of the rug. He pulled up the hem of the nightshirt to Tom's waist, revealing the flat stomach, the light curly hairs, and the penis at rest. Smiling reassuringly at Tom, Chak let his palm fall briefly over Tom's groin. A wide blue eye followed the movement and a shaky smile played across Tom's face. After Chak placed cushions under Tom's hips and under his head, he caressed the soft hair before his fingers left Tom's face. Tom's good eye followed his every move even as he wore a mixed look of fear and trust.
Chak smiled, "It will be all right. Just relax."
Retrieving his equipment, Chak squatted by Tom's side. He slicked up the tip of a long, very thin tube, then lifted Tom's flaccid penis and probed the slit for the tiny opening. When he found it, Chak began slowly to slip the tube's end inside. The organ began to straighten as the moving tube stimulated engorgement on its glide along the length of Tom's penis.
Tom closed his eyes and let the sensations build. He found himself aroused by the feeling of the tube slipping down that narrow channel. He realized it had reached his bladder when he heard urine begin to flow. Chak held Tom's penis gently as the tube emptied the contents of the bladder into a waiting chamber pot.
Although Tom wanted to squirm, Chak had a hand on his hip, the thumb lightly rubbing along his hip bone. This most private of functions was now on view, and he felt keenly embarrassed by the fact that he couldn't control the flow. At the same time, he couldn't stop his cock from its growth into full arousal. The friction of the tube turning in Chak's fingers excited him to the extent that he found his hips lifting into it as much as Chak's grip allowed.
Softly, he heard Chak urge, "Open your eyes, Tom. I want you to see this."
He locked onto the dark eyes for a moment then looked down below his waist. The yellow liquid was finishing its stream through the tube in his penis. Now Chak held a syringe filled with warm water to the loose end and fitted the nozzle inside the tube. He detected the stream now going the other way into his bladder. It felt hotly exotic as he sensed himself filling.
Tom saw Chak hold the tube crimped between thumb and forefinger while he refilled and refitted the syringe. Another bulb full of warm water flowed into his waiting bladder, then another. He experienced an uncomfortable amount of pressure, as if he had to urinate badly. When he grunted from the discomfort, Chak simply held the tube crimped with one hand while his other hand rubbed over Tom's belly.
The fullness seemed to increase each time Chak's deliberate movement pressed on Tom's bladder. Then Chak picked up one of Tom's hands and pressed the fingers to the tube, making Tom crimp it off while simultaneously denying him the relief he might obtain if he could just let the tube go.
"I want you to hold that tube tightly closed. I'm going to fit you with the smallest dilator."
Tom gave an involuntary shudder at the idea that his rectum would be filled with a plug at the same time that his bladder was filled with water. He moaned aloud.
"Trust me." He pressed Tom's thighs apart. The pillow underneath Tom's hips left him open and waiting for Chak's next touch. If anything, Tom's penis became further engorged and his anus seemed to quiver in anticipation of the promised entry. For a few minutes Chak simply trailed his manicured nail along the sensitive skin from balls to anus and back again. Chak watched in fascination at the way the skin rippled under his touch.
With oiled fingers, Chak pressed one digit to Tom's peach-colored opening. He heard Tom moan at the contact, saw the flutter of muscle around his finger, pressed harder and gained entry for the single finger. Chak gently worked the finger inside, admiring the velvety softness of Tom's interior. To Chak's eye, Tom was beautiful this way. The flushed face watched him raptly, the moans increased in volume and frequency as Chak's finger worked inside. Chak kept his other hand on Tom's abdomen, massaging the full bladder, noticing the quickening of breath, and the increasing color of the youth's fair skin.
"Now, Tom, I want to do something that may startle you. It will feel very, very good, but you must keep your grip on the tube. Do you understand?"
Tom nodded, speech not quite possible in his aroused state. But Chak noticed the fingers tighten on the tube and he smiled his approval. He twisted a second finger inside that waiting body and Tom's legs tightened. Chak puffed his breath up and down on each thigh to ease Tom's tension. "That's it, let those legs fall open for me, knees up a little. There you go."
Tom raised his knees at Chak's verbal prompt. His legs fell widely apart and he displayed himself, his eyes searching for Chak's approval. "Yes," Chak murmured. "Yes, you are so beautiful like this, you are, my love."
The words of endearment, coupled with the intense pressure in both his bladder and rectum, almost sent Tom over the edge. Then Chak warned, "I'm going to give you pleasure now. Be sure to hold that tube tightly."
Chak did as he promised. Tom found himself startled at the intensity of his reaction to Chak's touch. Sheer sensation coursed through him. Chak's fingers touched him inside at a spot that had him bucking his hips and crying out and thrashing his head from side to side in indescribable pleasure. "Dear God, dear God."
He almost forgot the tube until he felt Chak's fingers close around his own. "Hold it tight, Tom. Do you wish for me to do that again?"
Tom nodded vigorously, "Please, please, please. Dear God."
"Hold the tube tightly now."
Once more the exquisite torture raced through him and he arched his back and nearly convulsed at the magnitude of the passion he experienced. Tom felt fevered and incoherent and almost out of control. How could he keep his finger's grip on the tube? How could he stand this for another moment? And then Chak's fingers withdrew from his interior. He sobbed, "No, please, don't stop. Please."
Chak felt the power of his control over the young man. Tom was so responsive and so willing. He could probably enter the youth now with his own hard flesh and Tom would welcome him, especially if he angled to keep hitting that sweet spot. No, no. Not yet. He knew that his entry at this point would surely tear at that tight hole and cause unneeded hurt.
Eventually, he would bring Tom to the point where penetration would be easy and pleasurable. To that end, he picked up the smallest of the dilators, warmed it in his hands and oiled it. He pressed the bulbous tip to Tom's still narrow entrance. With a little pressure the resistance gave way and Chak eased it inside very slowly until it was buried to the rim.
Chak couldn't help himself as he drank in the sight of Tom's anus stoppered by the black rim of the plug, his penis hard with the tube emerging from its tip like some shameless extension, his balls so tight they formed perfect globes for Chak's wandering fingernail. He held one ball in each hand and pulled them, stretching them from the outside much as the anus had been stretched from the inside.
The tight look about Tom's face told Chak that he no doubt needed to take over control of the tube. He held Tom's balls in one hand, then released Tom's fingers from the tube with the other. Tom's hand fell bonelessly to a panting chest.
"Sit up, Tom."
Dazed, Tom struggled to a sitting position, the cushion pulled out from under his bottom. A wince crossed the young face when his buttocks came in contact with the floor, the plug forcing itself upward. Chak sat beside him and began to pull Tom onto his lap as he gave the corresponding instructions, "Here, move that sweet rear onto my lap. There you go."
He had Tom sitting sideways on his thigh, the plug clearly felt through Chak's trousers. Tom's head lolled back to Chak's shoulder and Chak felt shudders shake the slender body. "I'm going to let the water out now. Open your eyes."
As might be expected, the puffy eye barely opened, but its unharmed mate proved almost no better at opening. The young man was nearly insensate from the intense stimulation of his body. Chak aimed the tube into the chamber pot and both watched the stream of clear liquid as it poured from the tip of that very private part of Tom's body into the pot. The sounds of splashing liquid were accompanied by Tom's nonstop groans.
Chak wished he could fill that tube again and again, to continue dominating Tom's body, but he judged Tom to be too far gone to be able to handle the additional pressure. Tom had asked for cleansing, but not for the kind of control that Chak exerted over the young men at the club where it might have been permissible to go further.
Instead of giving in to these longings, Chak placed his slick hand on Tom's still hot, still erect penis and began to pump him. It didn't take long until creamy fluid covered Chak's hand and spilled on Tom's nightshirt. Tom groaned again and slumped into Chak's encircling arms and body. He held Tom's limp body for a long while as his wide hands roamed up and down Tom's silky skin.
At the same time, Chak willed his own erection to subside to more tolerable levels. Had he not had the relief of the club so recently, he might not have been able to exercise this control. He still wanted to thrust himself into that beautiful tight hole, to experience the relief he knew he would find there. Yet he held back, deferring to his young lover's physical condition.
To his surprise, Chak felt an exploration of his groin. He shifted Tom's weight so that he could open himself more to those questing fingers. Tom undid Chak's trousers and then shifted to face him. After placing those long, bare legs to either side of Chak, Tom's hands became busy with freeing Chak's straining erection. "Oh, Tom. Oh, yes."
The unharmed blue eye sought permission and then Tom moved back, wincing a little at the friction created on the dilator. He bent from the waist and his tongue and mouth found Chak's erect monument to desire and began to bathe it in his moistness. Chak's pleasure announced itself in louder, continuous entreaties for Tom to keep going.
Chak appreciated that this was the first time Tom had taken the initiative. And although he didn't want to frighten his young lover, Chak had reached a point of no return. When he sensed that Tom was going to pull his mouth away, Chak pressed Tom's face to his groin. "Continue, Tom, oh, please."
Obediently, Tom returned his lips around Chak's engorged member and began to suck. Chak encouraged him, "Yes, yes."
Despite Tom's inexperience, this felt so good, so incredible. To help them both, Chak used his hand on Tom's head to guide the young man's rhythm. Although Chak wanted to keep those lips in place, he didn't want to alarm Tom nor have him begin to gag. When he could no longer hold it, when his balls felt so hard and tight against his body, Chak pushed Tom's head away and spurted. Much of it landed on the surprised youth's face and nightshirt.
When Chak could once again speak, he scooped up his offering and pressed the finger to Tom's mouth. "Taste it," he urged. The young man momentarily closed his eyes and sucked the finger into his mouth, cleaning it off. "How is that?"
Fair enough, Chak thought and gave Tom a outrageous grin. "Thank you."
"Did I...did I do it right?"
CHAKOTAY: Throughout this whole scene, Tom's responses were so much like the inexperienced boy I'd imagined when I wrote the holonovel. It was a very heady time to introduce him to the pleasures of his prostate for the first time. It was as if he'd never known it was there. I felt a thrill thinking that I was the first to give him so much pleasure. It was a wonderful moment and I'm grateful to Tom that he gave me that.
The room was warm both from the fireplace in the corner and from the exertions of the two men. They sat in silence for a moment. "Tom, I like that you trust me."
"What you did inside me. That was...I still can't believe it. Do you know more things like that?"
Chak saw the shy tutor transform almost before his eyes into a sultry, sexual being. "Yes, Tom, I do. Now tell me, and be truthful, do you need anything more tonight? Do you need an enema? Do you still feel the need to be punished?"
Tom thought about the questions seriously. He knew he had just experienced the most extraordinary climax of his life and somehow the incredible pleasure had almost wiped away his need for anything else. Certainly, he'd been cleansed enough.
But there was a nagging itch on his backside where Arthur had hit him, almost as if the man's imprint would remain unless something replaced it. But he didn't know how to tell Chak about this vague longing for Chak's hand to be brought down on his backside. He was almost at the point of saying he was fine, when Chak's finger lifted up his chin and dark eyes scrutinized his face.
"You do need something more? What is it?"
"Arthur hit me," Tom managed to say. "It was his hands on me."
Chak wasn't sure what Tom was trying to say to him. "You still feel Arthur's hands on you?"
"And you don't know how to get rid of that feeling?"
One miserable blue eye seemed to beg for understanding.
"Tom, anything can happen in these rooms. So, if I can help you, I want to know what it is I should do."
Tom knew he had to have Chak's hands replace Arthur's.
"Would a massage help you?" Chak inquired.
Tom shook his head. He didn't think so. "I need," he began, then paused. "I need to be like when you do the enema."
"Across my lap?"
Tom nodded, feeling his face flush scarlet.
And Chak understood what the youth couldn't say. He needed Chak to pull him across his lap and spank him. He spoke bluntly, "Would a bare-bottomed spanking help erase what Arthur did?"
Tom's slender frame jumped at the question. Heat spread through him as he realized Chak knew what he so desperately needed. Head down, Tom nodded. He felt so foolish, how could Chak ever respect him if he required this like some little child? But he also felt relief at getting his shameful want out in the open.
Chak would never seriously hurt or humiliate him, but he might gain relief from the terrible desire to be punished for what happened with Arthur. No amount of Chak's telling him it wasn't his fault would assuage his guilt. He had to feel Chak's punishment. Maybe then he would be right with himself.
"Tom, please speak to me, tell me that a spanking is what you need. Look at me, my love."
With troubled eyes, Tom looked up. "I need that. I do," he whispered.
"All right. I'm going to clean up in here and then go sit on the bed. I want you to bring my saddlebags to me there."
Chak gave him a hand up to his feet. Tom asked, "Your saddlebags?"
"Yes. They're on the chair. Bring them to the bed."
As Tom left to carry out the chore, Chak arranged himself back inside his trousers and closed them. He tidied up and walked slowly into the bed chamber, mentally trying to change modes. He knew Tom didn't really want to be hurt, but that he had to administer a spanking that would be painful enough to dispel the young man's guilt.
Chak had never seriously considered doing this to the tutor with whom he'd fallen in love. However, he understood his own needs. He'd allowed those urges to be met at the club, but now he had cut off that outlet. Considering how many willing young bottoms he'd spanked, whipped, beaten and otherwise controlled at the club, he could allow himself this. Tom was clearly in need and, despite his considerable embarrassment, had actually asked Chak to do it.
Tom stood by the bed with the saddlebags in his hands. Chak motioned for Tom to place them on the bed. Curious at the delay in his punishment, Tom watched as Chak rummaged through the bags. He pulled out a soft package wrapped in paper and handed it to Tom. "Take it. It's for you."
Puzzled, Tom opened the wrapping and looked at the cloth inside. He rubbed his hand over it. "It's very soft."
"Finest wool. Hold it up."
Tom complied and found himself looking at a kilt. "It's a filleadh beag, a little kilt."
Chak smiled. The young man's education included the Scottish pronunciation and correct name for the gift. "Yes. It's for you. I want you to wear it on special occasions when we're here at home."
"It's beautiful," Tom admired. "It looks like my maternal grandmother's clan."
"I know. Green, with triple stripes of red, yellow and red. It will look good on you."
TOM PARIS: You know a kilt like that one looks an awful lot like a skirt. And it's worn without underwear, not even a jock. I really wasn't sure about going around wearing it. Suppose there was a red alert and we had to rush to the bridge? And then there was the meaning Chak wanted to give it. But hell, I like having Chakotay's hands on me. I guess this was one way to have that happen. So, it was a good gift after all.
"I don't know what to say."
"Say you will wear it. That when you do you will allow me to use your body whenever I ask."
Tom realized how much of a commitment he was being asked to make. Yet he also realized how much he wanted of Chak. He felt a shiver of sheer excitement go through him at the thought that Chak would encounter him out on the grounds or perhaps in the study and ask to use his body. "Um. What do you mean by 'use'?"
The dimples deepened to dangerous depths. "I want to open your anus and rectum to my hand and my fingers. I want to put a dilator in you or take one out. Eventually, I want to do more, I want to take you. That's what I want."
Those images made Tom tremble with expectation. "And when I wear this, I'm saying that I'm yours, that you have my permission to do these things?"
"Will you want to punish me?"
"Yes. Sometimes I may want to punish you."
Both saw Tom's cock jump under his nightshirt. Chak averted his eyes and rummaged some more in his saddlebags. He began to place the contents on the bed: a strap, a crop, a paddle, leather ties, leather items Tom couldn't identify but which at some primitive level the flesh between his legs recognized. His arousal increased as each piece was laid out on the bed for him to see. "In the wardrobe there are several canes and a whip. I have more at the club."
End Part 9
Part: NEW: 10/17
Summary and Warnings: See part 1.
As his eyes took in Chak's possessions, Tom's breath hissed out explosively. "You've used these at the club?"
"Would you use them on me?"
"Only if you agree. I would never touch you without your consent."
"Can I use them on you?" Tom asked with a grin, able to turn his question into a joke if Chak reacted negatively.
Chak blinked and considered. He wasn't talking to some boy who sold himself to the club members to be used as a sexual plaything, he was talking to the man with whom he wanted to share his life. He grinned back, appreciating Tom's impertinent sense of humor. "Yes."
"I would only do it with your consent," Tom promised, his grin broadening.
Chak nodded, suddenly solemn, as if an important agreement had been reached. And it had been. "There's more to talk about, Tom. But first, there's this matter of your spanking to take care of. What do you want me to use on you?"
Tom looked over the choices. In his mind, the exchange was Chak's hands for Arthur's. "Your hand."
"All right. While I put these away, take off your nightshirt."
Tom carefully placed the kilt, its coordinating jacket, and shirt in his dresser drawer and pulled off the soiled nightshirt. It smelled of his sex and Chak's and he liked holding it to his face while he breathed deeply of the rich scents.
"Come over to the bed, Tom."
Chak's quiet words brought his face out of the cloth and, embarrassed at being caught, Tom ducked his head and approached the bed. He tossed the nightshirt at the end of it. Chak sat on the bed, touched by Tom's sensory experiment.
The way Chak situated himself meant that Tom would be stretched out over his lap and supported by the bed, just like the other times when the occasion called for an enema. Tom climbed into position and Chak raised his thigh under Tom to elevate his bottom higher. Now that it was about to begin, Tom felt his nerves request a hearing. He panicked for a moment and thought to call it off.
Chak's soft voice gave him the out that a part of him longed for. "Do you want me to do this?"
Tom's breath hitched. No. Yes. No. Yes.
"Tom, I need to hear you say the words."
"Yes. Please." The voice sounded small and weak, Tom thought, just like himself. But he did need this, he knew it. More strongly, he affirmed, "Yes, sir."
Chak's hand rubbed the smooth skin. It seemed a shame to mar it with his handprint. He couldn't miss seeing the black rim of the dilator lodged firmly in place and wondered about taking it out. But Chak knew how much more sensation would be carried throughout Tom's body if he left the plug in. As he remembered how fine a bottom looked when red from a recent spanking, he knew he could do this. And he understood that, for Tom's sake, he had to do this.
He brought his hand up and then down. Tom's body jumped under the blow and a very pink handprint appeared on the porcelain skin just to the left of the dark rim separating his buttocks. But other than a grunt, Tom made no sound.
He realized he hadn't discussed with Tom how many blows this would take. Perhaps he would know when it came time to quit. He brought the hand down on the other cheek and then alternated cheeks. It took over ten slaps before the young man began to cry out. At twenty he was openly groaning, but he hadn't asked Chak to stop, he hadn't begged for mercy.
Thirty spanks brought a uniformly red color to those firm cheeks and muffled wails at each blow. It was then that Chak realized Tom would not stop him. He landed his last strike and rested his smarting hand on the fiery bottom just over the dilator's rim.
TOM PARIS: I have to admit, being spanked as an adult was a new experience for me. Not that I probably haven't deserved it before this. Yeah, I know, that's a nervous laugh on my part. I'd fantasized about it some. All right, maybe a lot. I guess I just like sensations. But I wasn't sure I'd really like the reality of this. Truth? It exceeded my fantasies. The heat of it. Chak doing it. Even the submission it required of me. I'll probably flunk the next routine psych evaluation on Voyager. But, hell, I liked it.
Chak pulled Tom up in his arms, hugging and showering him with kisses. Tom shuddered as Chak soothed him with words and caresses. Chak brought them both down on the bed and stroked the youth's back, calming him with murmurings, strokes and kisses. With the chastised young man lying on his side, he wiped Tom's sweat-dampened face with a cloth.
Not completely surprised at the physical reaction, Chak felt Tom's renewed erection hard against his hip. He twisted his body downward to suck the aroused flesh into his mouth while he used his hands to fondle Tom's balls. As Tom began to respond, he manipulated the dilator, pulling it out and pushing it in.
Just a few strokes of that plug and Tom's balls tightened under his grip, his aroused flesh tried to pull out but Chak's mouth would not let him go. Although Tom seemed very close to climaxing, something seemed to hold him back. Chak gave the already burning bottom cheeks a swift couple of swats. Crying out as he came, Tom gushed and filled Chak's mouth with his seed.
Chak swallowed the essence he'd been privileged to taste. He realized that his lover was out cold and cleaned him up. He removed the dilator and maneuvered Tom under the covers. That Tom was naked was not lost on Chak. He relished holding that young body close to him throughout the night.
Chak left off his own nightclothes and embraced Tom, warm flesh against warm flesh. Chak had not done anything about his own arousal and now took care of his needs, sleepily realizing how much this night had changed their relationship.
Chak knew with certainty that they belonged to each other.
Sleeping on his side, Tom slowly woke up. Simultaneously, he became aware of several things. His bottom felt warm and tingling, there was a mix of pain and pleasure from the tip of his penis, and his anus accommodated a dilator, its pressure faintly pleasurable. A warm body lined up at his back and strong arms wrapped around him. Hands stroked his chest, fingers played with his nipples. As he snuggled back against Chak, he pulled his knee up, inviting further exploration of his body. Chak complied with Tom's nonverbal request, stroking down his side, over his hip, cupping his balls and penis, roaming backwards to massage a buttock in one muscular grip. The dilator moved about, jostled by the action on Tom's backside.
Most of the bedclothes were swept off them, only a sheet remained to ward off the morning chill. But the heat from their bodies seemed to more than compensate for the loss of blankets. Tom groaned, felt a heavy leg swing over his hips trapping him underneath. One hand pressed him from the front, the other from the rear, each caressing a part of his body that needed little additional stimulation.
His penis asserted itself in righteous reaction, Tom's rectum sought to position the dilator so that it would rub at the interior spot where he needed to know if what happened last night was a dream or real. Chak's hand pulled it out and angled the dilator back inside, finding that very spot. It was gone again and then returned as Tom cried for more, for nonstop pleasure. He wriggled under Chak's pinioning leg and managed to turn onto his stomach, Chak's leg sliding down to cover his thighs. The remaining sheet moved and bared his skin to the knees. He thrust his bottom upwards into the dilator controlled by Chak's hand.
"Please, please," he begged turning his head so that his mouth wasn't in the pillow, while his thoughts remained nearly incoherent with searing want.
"You want this?" came a breathy voice.
"Yes, yes. Do what...please do it again."
"I'm going to take this one out. I put it in an hour ago while you slept."
"No. Please no."
"I'm going to put it in the next size larger. Are you prepared for that?"
"Oh, yes. Anything."
But Tom gave a mewling sound when the dilator was removed. He waved his bottom from side to side as if calling attention to the seemingly snug hole that needed to be filled. Chak's fingers opened him and then a slick bulb pressed against his retracting anus. "Let it in, Tom. Relax around it. It only feels big."
And it did feel huge, too huge for his body to accept. But Chak pressed firmly on the dilator. The head popped inside and began to slide as it filled the narrow tunnel with its girth. It just barely skimmed over the spot Tom now knew could provoke such intense pleasure.
Tom moved to give Chak the hint that he needed more, needed the movement, the pleasure, needed it badly. He felt the exploring hand beneath him, stroking his penis, pulling his balls, while the other hand controlled the dilator. Yes, he thought, yes, there, please, do it, do it, do it.
"Tell me what you want, Tom."
He almost couldn't talk. "Make it...hit the spot, please, oh, please."
Chak twisted the dilator, angled it a certain way, moved it inside his rectum and Tom bucked and cried out and begged for more. His hard flesh dripped, his balls contracted so tightly he feared for their safety. Chak's hand squeezed those very balls so that he teetered between pain and pleasure. Fingernails flicked against his penis and he knew he had never before experienced such exquisite torture. He thrust his bottom up higher in the air, rocking on his knees.
"What do you need, Tom?"
The seductive voice was right in his ear, the heated breath tickling that sensitive extension of his head. The hand was all over his backside now, rubbing, kneading, heavy with promise and he wanted so much. "Everything," he cried.
"You're wiggling that bare backside like you want something. Tell me."
"Hit me, please. Make the dilator move inside me. Please, Chak, please."
Without warning, Chak's hand came down as it had last night in a sharp crack that jolted him outside as well as inside. The dilator jumped deeper up his rectum, stopped only by the flaring rim. It barely brushed against the pleasure spot, but was not enough. He needed more. The cheek that had been hit bloomed with pain from the present that mingled with pain from the night before. He was in exquisite agony. He felt so much he nearly cried.
"Is this what you need, Tom?"
"Yes," he moaned.
"Do you want more?"
"Please more. Please."
"Then lift that sweet bottom higher up in the air. Arch your back and spread those knees apart. Put your shoulders down there where your head is and keep telling me what you need. Do you need me to hit you? Do you want me to move that plug inside you? Do you want me to grip your privates, grip them hard?"
Although the words sounded like commands, the tone was more like a hushed invocation. Regardless of the true intent, Tom obeyed instantly. He arched his back so that his rear waved higher, he pushed his knees further apart so that his cheeks spread widely. All the while he moaned of his needs, "I want you to hit me, please, do it hard."
Chak landed two stinging swats to the bared bottom and Tom nearly buckled under the searing sensation that spread across his backside. Chak's other hand kept a tight grip on his balls and pulled insistently at them in a milking motion while his penis wept copiously. But despite Tom's pleas, Chak didn't touch the dilator until he'd delivered ten more hard, heavy strikes, five to each upthrust cheek. Tom experienced each blow as a white-hot blaze of pain that fused with pleasure until he knew only that he had left his earthly body.
Then Chak abruptly twisted the dilator bringing it all the way out, forcing the reluctant anus to gave it up. Immediately, he reinserted it and repeatedly hit that spot of such intense pleasure that Tom collapsed to the bed, turning on his side and writhing his hips and legs, all the while trying to keep his rear up, wanting more and more.
He was barely aware that Chak's hand shifted until the strong fist around his straining flesh pumped over and over. His balls tightened to unnatural hardness and, with a fierce yell, he came spurting wildly over his chest and the bed linens. The dilator seemed to move inside him as strong contractions wracked his rectum along with the rest of his body. When it was over, he collapsed limply on his back, eyes nearly rolled back in his head.
CHAKOTAY: I wasn't sure how I'd feel about spanking Tom. Chak had all the experience in that area, not me. But I have to admit I loved doing it. Not so much for administering pain, that wasn't the real point. Tom asked me to do this. He trusted me. He gave me all this power over his body. Of course, it was a power that he could snatch back with a single word. Yes, I could get used to doing this, having that beautiful pale body across my lap or perhaps bent over a chair, submitting to my hand. I liked it so much that I hoped we would continue this activity off the holodeck.
Once the room stopped spinning, Tom saw Chak sitting up beside him, a huge grin on the man's face, his dimples deep statements of satisfaction, his erection testimony to unfinished business. The soft voice asked, "Like that?"
"I never knew it could be like this."
"Eventually you will be able to accommodate me inside you. I think you'll like that."
Tom closed his eyes trying to imagine the promised intimacy. "When?"
Chak's hand brushed at his face and Tom opened his eyes, both eyes able to open today. "It may take awhile before you can take the largest dilator."
"I'm sure we can find ways to make the time pass in a pleasurable manner. And there is the metal dilator. Soon, my dear, Tom. And I look forward to placing a little something of my own in there."
"Little?" Tom teased. "Don't forget, I've seen what you have."
Chak couldn't help the smug look. "It's a 9."
Tom remembered the nest of dilators in their satin-lined box and frowned. "I thought 5 was the largest size."
"I have another box," was Chak's proud reply. He grinned at Tom's shock. "That box contains a 6, 7, and 8. They actually don't recommend using anything over a 7."
At that comment, Tom laughed. "Well, your *9* looks as if it could use a little help. Is there anything I can do for you?"
Chak looked down at his erection and gave Tom a big grin. "Yes."
Taking a cue from Chak's directness, with his own grin, Tom said, "Say it. Tell me what you want."
"I want you on your knees and I want you to put that fair head of yours right down there. I want your warm mouth to take it *all* in and suck on it until I climax. I want to see you swallow what I give you."
Tom's grin faded. Swallow? He gulped and wondered whether he could do it when the time came. Well, he would try. With more confidence than he felt he managed to get to his knees and bent down so that his head descended on that thick, bobbing shaft. He placed his mouth around it and felt Chak's hand at the back of his head guiding him as he'd done before. As the hand pushed his head down more insistently, Tom began to gag. Panicked, he came up for air.
Chak touched his forehead to Tom's and whispered to him, "The key is to relax your throat, just let it fall open. If you are unable to do so today, we will simply keep practicing tomorrow." Chak grinned. "I know you will do your best."
Feeling guilty that he hadn't done it properly, despite Chak's reassuring words to the contrary, Tom bent his head down once again to the task before him. The pressure from Chak's hand was less and he found he could relax, that he could breathe through his nose, that he liked the taste of the moisture that leaked down his throat. He gave an experimental suck and took in air as he worked. Tom found himself relaxing some more.
He lasted longer before the gag reflex tried to engage. Chak's pressure eased and he could move back so that less of that huge shaft was in his mouth. Taking a deep breath around the large object in his mouth, he began to suck some more. As he found ways to pull in on the organ through the suction of his cheeks and, as he played his tongue over and around, he realized that at some point control had passed from Chak to him and that he was giving Chak pleasure.
Moaning, Chak let his hand fell away as he pumped strongly into Tom's mouth. He didn't try to pull out, but let the hot substance pulse into Tom's waiting throat, felt Tom swallowing over and over. Only when Tom's tongue had lapped at the last drop did he pull away to fall to his side on the bed, Tom next to him. Chak couldn't have been more pleased. Not only was Tom a quick study, but he had given so much pleasure, Chak felt as if his muscles might remain useless for quite some time.
Chak's felt Tom's fingers trace light pathways across forehead and face and over his lips. When Chak opened his eyes, he found an expression of wonder on the young man's face. He smiled and pulled Tom over on top of him, kissing the mouth that had now been baptized with his flavors. When he thrust his tongue inside, he met no resistence, only an enthusiastic response from Tom's own tongue amid the taste of fresh semen.
Breaking off the kiss, he reached for the blankets. Tom protested, "You don't need those, you've got my backside. I'll bet it can warm this whole room all by itself."
Chak laughed. "My love, you have not yet experienced a fully warmed backside."
"I haven't?" Tom questioned.
Chak palmed the heated area in question bringing them groin to groin. "No. These are only lukewarm."
Slyly, Tom asked, "So, what will it take to heat up the room?"
Chak squeezed each cheek and Tom gave a startled cry. "Oh, a long session, a very long session."
Tom wriggled his hips on top of him and Chak squeezed tighter. "And a variety of instruments."
"A variety, huh? Tell me," Tom urged, grinding down again.
Rolling them so that Tom was on his back, Chak on top, Chak's hands continued to knead the hot cheeks under him. "Not today. You'll have to use your imagination." Tom pouted and Chak kissed the out-thrust lips. "But I've noticed that you are deft at learning new concepts. In the coming months, I promise you will have experiences that you cannot even imagine today. That's all I'm going to say."
Chak sat back on his haunches over Tom's legs. "Not fair," Tom informed him.
"This is love, Tom. Everything's fair." He brought his hands out from under Tom and placed them on each side of his love's head. "Let's talk about today."
Mesmerized by the dark man above him, Tom acquiesced. "Yes?"
"You need to wear this larger plug if you can. Sit on it, walk around with it inside you. From time to time, let me move it in and out. If you don't come to see me in the study, I'll find you when I think it's time. Now, you should be feeling some need to use the facilities. Do you?"
Tom sensed the truth in Chak's prediction. "Yes."
"Then I'll take it out for the time being."
"I want to wear the kilt today." At Chak's broad grin, Tom added, "And tomorrow and...."
Chak bent down to kiss him before he could say anything more. "Good. However, I suggest you wear it primarily on special occasions." He moved off of Tom's legs. "Now, turn over."
Beautifully reddened buttocks presented themselves, a large black rim splitting them apart near the thighs. Chak gripped the rim and pulled on the dilator, gently tugging when the bulb reached the fortress of muscle guarding Tom's interior. Finally it popped loose. When Tom turned over and got a look at it, his eyes widened. "That's big."
"This is a size 3. We're going for all the sizes through 8 -- and me."
When Chak grinned like that, dimples at full display, Tom found the man so hard to resist. But, Tom had seen the size 5 in the box. He remembered it as enormous. Chak had bragged on having another box of these devices. If Chak's own *9* seemed monstrous, especially when stuffed down his throat, he didn't want to dwell on the sizes in between. He beat a hasty retreat to the sanctuary of the water closet. It was a good thing he didn't see Chak's laugh as he went.
A little self-consciously, Tom retrieved his new clothes from the dresser. After Tom struggled a bit with the fastenings, Chak gave him some assistance, and finished by running his hands over those still warm, smooth cheeks. Shoes and knee socks on, Tom stood up and turned around for Chak's inspection.
The kilt came to just above his knees. Its rich green color fit right into the decor of the room. Chak thought the color looked good against Tom's fair skin. "Go over to the bed."
Tom followed Chak's instructions and found the dilator waiting there for him. He turned his head back over his shoulder and watched Chak's progress as the man slowly came up behind him, formally dressed in jacket, shirt, and tie. "Bend down, Tom."
End Part 10
Part: NEW: 11/17
Summary and Warnings: See part 1.
When Tom bent over, the kilt rode up his legs, but not high enough to expose his bare buttocks. Chak lifted the fabric and tucked it into the waistband so that Tom was open to him. Silently, he directed Tom to spread his legs apart by placing his palms to the inside of Tom's thighs and pressing outward. Oddly, Tom thought, he felt more exposed like this than he had last night when he lay on the bathroom floor with his knees raised and his legs wantonly open. Perhaps it was the fact that this was happening to him while he was clothed, about to go to work as the children's tutor.
Whatever created the problem, his face flamed with embarrassment and Chak had unexpected difficulty inserting the dilator. After struggling unsuccessfully to get it past the anal sphincter muscle, Chak slicked up his finger and began slowly massaging the opening. "Close your eyes, Tom. Take a deep breath. You can trust me. This will work."
With the combination of the warm finger and the soothing words, Tom relaxed enough to encourage Chak to try again. This time, the dilator met with less resistance. Eventually, Chak twisted it inside and patted the flared rim into place. "There. Stand up and turn around."
Chak stepped back as Tom turned to face him. He couldn't read Tom's expression other than the obvious embarrassment. "What is it, Tom?"
"It feels different this way."
"I know. You're about to go out into the household with the dilator in place, in a strange costume, in circumstances that have changed between us a great deal. I do understand. Perhaps you would prefer your usual attire?"
He wanted to please Chak. As if understanding his desire, Chak told him, "Don't do this for me. If you feel uneasy, we'll try tomorrow or the next day. There is no hurry. Understand?"
He kissed Tom's lips and smoothed his hair.
Tom nodded. "I wish to try."
"Good. And if it is all too much, you come back up here to our rooms and send for me. But remember, I will look for you before too long and I will remove the plug."
"Yes." Tom took a deep breath and regarded the heavy doors that protected him inside these rooms. "Could I...?"
"What is it?"
"I'd like to take a walk before breakfast. Just a short one. To clear my head."
"You want company?"
"No. I just...I believe I need to see if the world is out there today the same as it was yesterday."
"I understand. And Tom? You don't need my permission for such things."
"Thank you, kind sir," Tom grinned.
"Indeed," Tom agreed and gave Chak a warm look of affection.
Chak opened the doors and they stepped into the hallway. Tom felt the heavy wool against his warm backside, felt the kilt swirl a bit about his legs. He felt the strange bareness of his legs without trousers around them. And he was terribly aware of the presence of the size 3 dilator lodged within him.
Downstairs, he headed outside to the now barren rose garden and up the trail to the cliff side. He was unaware that Chak watched him as he strode up the hill. At the overlook to the ocean he stopped and took in deep gulps of the heavy sea air. He walked along the top of the cliff, lost in his own thoughts.
Here he was, the son of an admiral, his destiny once the sea and a naval career, now a tutor. But more importantly, now he was the lover of a man more than ten years his senior, he was recovering from his second spanking in twelve hours, he wore a huge wooden plug up his backside, and the first meal of the day had been a mouthful of semen.
It was a lot to occupy his thoughts. As a breeze lifted up the hem of his kilt, he thought ruefully, and now I wear a kilt so that my lover can *use* me whenever he wishes.
Tom knew he entertained no regrets at the new state of affairs. But he wondered how he had so quickly transformed himself from a virtual virgin into this seemingly wanton creature who could beg his partner to spank him, to penetrate him with large objects, and to ceaselessly rub a spot inside him that, when touched, appeared to separate him from his right senses.
Yet he never felt more alive. The sadness at giving up his naval dreams was now all but banished by the nearly constant state of stimulation occasioned by his activities with Sir Charles Jackson.
Suddenly, his feet went out from under him and he fell face first to the hard ground, his dignity lost, his feet briefly held together. He managed to get to his knees, then felt something hard knock him over, heard his breath vacate his body in a whoosh, and had his consciousness momentarily leave him. When he was able to assess the situation, Tom found himself face down in the brittle grasses, his face dirty, his knees bruised, his kilt hiked to his waist.
Whatever had tripped him no longer trapped his feet and he managed to stand up, albeit a little shakily. He smoothed his clothes down, then realized something was missing. The size 3 dilator was gone. Looking around both for it and for whatever it was that had tripped him, Tom could find neither. He shook his head, still a little dazed.
Tom found himself so close to the edge of the cliff, he wondered if the dilator had been knocked out when he went down and if it had gone over the ledge. With a shudder, Tom realized that whatever had knocked him over had been big, maybe a wild boar. In fact, it was fortunate he had not gone over the cliff with the missing dilator.
Arthur waited until he was safely inside his cave before he took the wooden treasure from his pocket. He fondled the dilator and laughed to himself. The catamite may have been tall, but he was also slender and light boned. It had been so easy to trip and knock him down. But never had he expected such a bonus! A freshly spanked bottom, an unnaturally dark and wide object where the tiny anus should have been. He'd lost no time roughly yanking the object from that stunned body. Oh, Charles certainly knew how to start training them. But it would be he, Arthur, who finished this job. He could almost hear the lad's cries for a mercy that would never come.
With visions of caning the smooth bottom until it was a mass of welts, having himself a poke until semen and blood appeared in that tight opening, Arthur cruelly anticipated the torment he would inflict. And it would show his brother who was the real man in the family. When Charles saw the corpse of his lover, he would know what Arthur had done.
Halfway down the hill, Tom met Chak and Scott who both carried shotguns.
"Sir Charles," he responded mindful that Mr. Scott stood nearby. His knees were skinned, his palms cut, and his head and buttocks hurt. "I was knocked down, maybe a wild boar?"
Scott and Chak exchanged a brief look. Then Chak gripped his arm and looked him up and down, turning him once he'd inspected Tom's front. Chak's gaze stopped somewhere around the backs of Tom's knees. Looking over his shoulder, Tom asked, "What?"
Tom knew his knees were bleeding but realized that wasn't the area at which Chak was looking. He squirmed when he felt Chak lift the hem of the kilt. After all, Mr. Scott was standing right there. Deciding to vocalize his discomfort, he managed, "Um, Sir Charles?"
"Mr. Scott, kindly proceed up the hill. See what's there." Wordlessly, with just a faint nod, Scott resumed the trek up the hill.
It was possible that anyone in the house looking this way would see that Chak was pressing a handkerchief to his bare cheeks. Tom hoped they were far enough away that such detail would not be seen.
"Be still, Tom, I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to stop the bleeding."
Obediently, Tom resisted the strong urge to bolt down the hill to the safety of their rooms. It might be better if he approached the house with some dignity intact. If blood wasn't running down the backs of his thighs, so much the better. He was acutely aware of Chak stuffing the handkerchief up the cleft between his cheeks.
"Try to keep that inside you until I can look at it later."
Attempting a little humor, he replied, "I'll do my best, but you do know that handkerchief must be at least a 10."
Teasing him back, Chak asserted, "No, I believe it is only a 2." With a last push, the cloth had been positioned to Chak's apparent satisfaction. "There."
"Did you see what happened?" Tom asked anxiously.
"Yes," came the clipped reply, the slight humor that had been there just a moment ago now totally gone.
"It was a boar?"
"We'll talk about it later, Tom. I want you to go inside and go up to our rooms. Will you do that for me?"
A little confused, Tom agreed but gave a token protest anyway. "I think I shall be safe from it now."
"Please, Tom, this is important."
"Yes, sir." When Chak started up the hill after Mr. Scott, Tom asked, "What was it?"
The face Chak turned back to him was pinched and angry. "Arthur."
For a moment Tom thought his knees would give way. Chak took the few paces needed to close the gap between them. "Tom?"
"Nothing to be concerned about. But I want to come with you."
"No. You've been injured and I think you should go inside and wait for me. It could be Arthur wants to get you out in the open where he can hurt you again. Go into the house, Tom. Please."
Chak appeared white-faced with anger. Tom realized that the word *please* had been used more as a social nicety than as a qualifier of his demand that Tom go inside. It had not been a request. "I'll be upstairs."
With that terse word, Chak turned and resumed his march up the hill. Tom watched for a moment, then headed to the house, the cloth held tightly between his buttocks. Hilly Simpson, one of the maids, followed him upstairs with a kettle of hot water that she set on the bath chamber hearth. She pointed it out to him and exited, closing the door behind herself.
In the bath chamber, Tom removed his clothes and assessed his injuries. Scrapes to his face, hands, and knees were superficial but, nonetheless, they stung as he wiped a warm cloth over them. He wasn't sure how effective he'd been at getting out the grit and loose skin. But if stinging pain was any indicator, then he'd been very successful.
Finally, he pulled out the handkerchief Chak had stuffed between his cheeks. It hurt when the cloth brushed over torn skin. Worse, it came away stained with blood. Sensing fresh bleeding, Tom wet a clean cloth and poked around hoping to stop the blood. As long as the cloth remained pressed against the lacerated skin, no blood dripped down his legs. With a sigh, Tom carried a towel in one hand and kept the cloth in place with the other as he awkwardly made his way over to the bed. He put the towel on top of the sheets and then lay down on his side, his hip on the towel.
Shivers ran through him and Tom pulled up as many blankets as there were on the bed to spread over him. He couldn't believe that Arthur had attacked him again. The man was daring. It had been out in the open in daylight. Blaming himself, Tom bitterly acknowledged that he'd walked right along that ridge in the kilt with his bottom hiding a wooden dilator. Arthur must have taken it right out of him.
TOM PARIS: The suddenness of the attack on the cliff stunned me. Once again, I'd been made to look like some first-year cadet. If it had been Arthur, then he was very good, like some well-trained terrorist. He was someone to fear. Yeah, this from Tom Paris. I wondered what Chakotay had been thinking when he'd created Arthur. Was I supposed to be the damsel in distress here? Yeah, you could say I was angry.
Neither Scott nor Charles found any trace of Arthur but both were certain they had seen a man attack Tom. Whether it had been Arthur or not neither could tell. However, Chak was positive that it could have been no one else. On the way back to the house, they discussed new security measures that would need to be taken to keep Tom and the rest of the household safe. It was the best they could do.
Still angry at what had happened virtually in front of his own eyes, Chak calmed himself enough to have a quiet word with the children's nurse, assuring himself that she would keep them inside today. Then he returned to the rooms he shared with Tom.
He found the young man huddled under the blankets shivering. After soft caresses to Tom's face, he poured a finger of brandy into a glass and helped Tom to sit up enough to drink it. Shudders ran through the slender body as the heat of the alcohol spread through Tom.
"Did you find him?" Tom was able to ask when the shivering stopped enough for him to speak.
"But it wasn't a boar."
"No. I saw a man. It was a considerable distance but I believe it had to be Arthur."
"He took the dilator."
"That bloody...!" The anger came through clearly. Calming, Chak offered, "Let me see how badly you were hurt."
Without a word, Tom let the blankets fall off his shoulders. Chak took his chin in hand and scrutinized the abraded skin he saw there. Gently, he lifted each hand and gazed at the palms. He looked up at Tom whose eyes seemed glassy with shock. Sweeping the blankets down, Chak inspected the damage to the knees. None of the injuries were serious, each had stopped bleeding, although bruises and scabbing would appear soon.
A hand to Tom's hip was meant to tell the younger man to lie down and, obediently, Tom positioned himself on his stomach. Chak nudged the thighs further apart and then carefully lifted out the cloth Tom had placed there to absorb the blood. It was easy to see how Tom's anus had been torn when the dilator had been ripped from his body. The tear was long but fairly shallow. During his inspection, Chak was acutely aware of the pink backside he'd so recently hit. If he could see it, then Arthur must have seen it also.
Tom's skin began to goosebump and Chak pulled the blankets up over Tom's shoulders. He knew his brother, knew Arthur would be relentless in coming after Tom. And seeing the condition of Tom's bottom through Arthur's eyes made him slightly sick.
He never should have thought he could bring his club activities home. He never should have tried to introduce Tom to any of it, however mild the activities to date, however much Tom seemed to like what they did. He felt so guilty for what Tom had been through and feared for Tom if Arthur ever got his hands on him.
He sent his hand down Tom's back under the covers and rubbed the still cold skin. Tom curled his body up and murmured something about more and lower. Chak broadened his strokes, eventually reaching the warmer backside. With Tom's movements under his hand so responsive, so appreciative of the touch, Chak understood that, at a very deep level, he couldn't up give this, nor could Tom. But he also realized that he would have to go much more slowly with this young man. Tom was not some experienced and jaded boy from the club.
He bent down and, with his hand softly gliding over the smooth bottom cheeks of his lover, kissed Tom's forehead. "Try to rest, my love."
Tom mumbled something that sounded like acquiescence and Chak reluctantly withdrew his hand. He fussed a little with the blankets, then left. He vowed to get the dogs out if he had to, but he would find Arthur and he would stop him.
CHAKOTAY: The violence of Arthur's attack made Chak reassess his needs to reenact his club activities on the estate. I think he became scared that there was more of Arthur's insanity in him than he had ever acknowledged. It reminded me of when I had to face the truth of the *craziness* gene carried in my family. Not a comfortable situation for him or me.
Tom had little sense of how long he slept. But he woke up with sore muscles and a mouth that felt furry from the brandy. He had a headache and was also hungry. A quick mental inventory of his body parts told him that the scabbed-over skin on his knees and palms made for a little stiffness, but nothing serious. His anus was very sore and tender but had ceased bleeding. And he no longer felt cold.
With a groan that acknowledged the stiffness in his muscles, Tom sat up, rubbed his face, and remembered that he'd dropped most of his clothes in the bath chamber. He needed to relieve himself and swung to his feet swaying somewhat. A bout of dizziness passed and he made his way to the water closet without problems.
Dressed in his more usual trousers, shirt, and tie, Tom headed downstairs for some food. The large grandfather clock in the vestibule told him it was nearly noon. He wondered what had become of John and Edward and felt contrite for neglecting them because of these minor attacks on himself. Maybe he could make up for it this afternoon.
Although life on the estate was tense for the next week there was no trace of Arthur to be found and there were no further attacks. Tom resumed his tutoring of the two young boys even as he knew that Chak and the staff spent much of their time during the day searching for some sign of Arthur.
At night, Tom found he missed the playful games he and Chak had begun before the attacks. Chak would only allow hand contact when aroused, although, in turn, he did put his mouth to Tom's erections. But he wouldn't penetrate with his finger or even the smallest dilator and he wouldn't bring his hand down on Tom's quivering bottom even when Tom begged. After the humiliation of imploring Chak for a spanking twice only to be turned down both times, Tom no longer asked. Even though he wore the kilt infrequently, Chak never ran his hands over Tom's bare skin.
Tom didn't understand what had changed their nights from ones of such excitement to times of such awkwardness. The old concerns he'd had after the first attack resurfaced. He wondered if Arthur's ambushes had somehow made him soiled goods and, if so, he worried that Chak might want to turn him out of the estate.
Despite Chak's coolness toward him, Tom still looked forward to the warmth of the man's body in their bed. He didn't want to go, he wanted to recapture what they'd had before this Arthur had appeared in their lives. But he wondered for how long Chak would find him a desirable companion. And how soon it would be before Chak needed to go to his club. Alone.
Tom felt sure the time had come when, sitting in bed, Chak told him that he would be leaving the estate in the morning. He planned to be gone for two days on business. Without thinking, with bitterness on his tongue, Tom accused, "You're going to the club without me."
Chak looked stunned. "No. There's business I have to deal with. I've put it off, but I must go."
"Let me go with you."
Tom watched Chak's emotions pursue each other for several moments. "All right."
"Are you going to the club?"
"I wasn't planning on it, Tom."
"When can we get back to normal?"
"What are you talking about?"
"You hardly touch me. It's as if you find yourself disgusted with me. Have I been contaminated by Arthur? What's wrong? Please tell me. If...if you don't want me anymore? I can't stand this not knowing."
Chak stared at Tom. "I don't understand."
"Everything. This." Tom waved at the room and bed.
"I know I've done something to disappoint you or to provoke your anger. However, I am at a loss to know what I've done. And I fear there is no way to make it up to you."
"You're not making any sense. Tom, Arthur has hurt you because of me. He is trying to get to me through you. I don't want you hurt. I love you."
"That's the first time you've said that since the first attack," Tom pointed out, fighting back threatening tears. "You act like you no longer love me. All I can think of is that you hate me for letting Arthur touch me."
Chak thought back over the past several weeks. He realized that his decision to go slower with Tom hadn't included Tom's opinions on the subject. He had turned down Tom's entreaties to recreate some of their more exotic practices because he wanted to protect him. But obviously Tom had only the attacks to go by and had wrongly added things together. "No. Those are not your fault. I am to blame. Arthur is to blame. None of these attacks were your fault."
End Part 11
Part: NEW: 12/17
Summary and Warnings: See part 1.
Clouded blue eyes tore at Chak's heart. He wanted to hug and kiss Tom but he knew that would not be giving the tutor the answers he sought. How to explain this? "Tell me truthfully. What were you thinking about that morning you went for the walk along the cliff?"
Tom frowned. "I don't remember."
Chak recalled how Tom had seemed to need a little distance that morning. "Were you not a little frightened by what we'd been doing? Think back, Tom."
"I don't remember experiencing fright."
"Then, you were...?"
Tom worried on his lower lip and tried to bring back that morning. "I have no recollection. Perhaps I was thinking that I was changed."
Not realizing he might be putting words in Tom's mouth, Chak suggested, "And had not those changes come about very quickly?"
Tom laughed hollowly. "Yes. Yes, I remember thinking that. But I liked what had happened."
"Well, I liked what we were doing, too. But I thought we were moving too swiftly for you. And there's another thing. I found myself acting toward you at times as if you were a boy at the club. But that's not the kind of person I want to be with you."
Tom shook his head. "What do you mean?"
"What I have done at the club, what I began to promise to do to you, I'm not proud of that. I dislike that side of myself. I have no wish to treat you that way."
"You mean you don't want to spank me even if I want you to?" Tom asked, his face flaming with embarrassment.
"The answer is no, not if it makes me the man I was at the club."
"What is so wrong with that?"
"Oh, Tom, you are so young, so innocent. I would be bringing my demons home with me and I would corrupt you."
"That is completely wrong," Tom sputtered.
"So I've already corrupted you?"
"Not enough," Tom muttered.
"Did you say 'not enough'?" Chak demanded with a mock indignant tone, his dimples belying his words.
Jutting out his chin, Tom noted Chak's playful demeanor and repeated, "Not nearly enough."
"Come here, my love." Chak gathered him in his arms and held him tightly, placing kisses on the blond head. "We will work this out, my dear Tom, we will."
"Beginning shortly. First, I would like to ask you something."
"I won't insist on an answer."
"Chak," Tom explained with exasperation, "I want to answer."
"What about your future?"
"What about it?"
"Suppose this: suppose the dilators work. Suppose you could then pass the medical exam and have your naval career? What would you do?"
"If you were acting in this mythical future like you have been this past week, I would no doubt give it serious thought."
"You would?" Chak tried to keep his tone neutral. He'd been afraid the younger man would give him up for the sea.
"No. I shan't leave you. I...I told you that I'm not sure what love is and I'm...." Tom's voice fell off when he couldn't find the words he needed.
"You want to feel loved."
"Yes. And I want to love you. I don't know yet if that's what I feel, but I want it to be."
"So, my spanking you was a sign that I loved you?"
"Of course. You remember why you did that? I needed to get rid of the guilt I felt for Arthur's first attack. I've been sure that I was soiled goods to you, that you refrain because of what Arthur's done to me."
"No, Tom." But Chak understood then what Tom was trying to say. His holding back on what Tom needed was not helping. "Tell me this: are you upset after I've spanked you?"
A frown of incomprehension crossed the fair features.
"Are you upset with me because I've hurt you? Do you see me as your father, perhaps?"
And Tom recognized some of what Chak was afraid of. "Because you're older than me, you think I might have trouble distinguishing you from my father? No. I fear to even think of you and my father in the same...I don't know...you two simply cannot be in my thoughts at the same time."
"That helps," and it did help. "But do you not think me some kind of brute to spank you? I showed you all those devices that I've used at the club."
"And you promised me something you called a 'long session'. Don't you know how much I've wanted you to do that? I want to experience all of this. Every device you have, every thing you do at your club, I want you to do with me. Even if I don't have any notion of what I'm talking about."
CHAKOTAY: Sometimes we think we're acting so nobly and all we've done is fuck things up. Self-deception is not confined to a particular time or social class. It can even strike writers of holonovels.
Tom's rueful expression touched Chak in a way that allowed the words to sink in. There was a yearning in this young man that Chak had awakened. Maybe it was not too late to go back. If Tom didn't get what he wanted from Chak he might set out on a disastrous course of trying to find it from someone else. But no one else would care for Tom as he did, no one else would be able to help the youth find his way safely through the dangers.
Tom continued, "There is so much I have never experienced. What you've already shown me has made me want to do it all again and more. I want to know about my body and what it likes and wants. I can have that with you. I want that! If I didn't do you truly believe I would fail to tell you?"
Tom spoke with such vehemence that Chak was forced to believe him. Tom's argument made sense. He'd had a taste and he wanted more. Tom didn't plan to leave him once his body was capable of passing the naval exam. They would recover from this seeming set-back. Possibly it was all to the good that they had so frankly exchanged views. "Anything else?"
"How did Arthur find out about us? He must have heard that we were with each other from someone and that makes me wonder who else is talking about us. Does the whole village believe we're having sexual intercourse? And I worry if my father should find out."
The last was said so quietly Chak wasn't sure he heard Tom right. But Tom's father was still an important presence in his life. Tom should be concerned that his father would find out about the relationship. Such bonds between men were not rare, but they were not spoken about. Tom's family would be disgraced if the Admiral's social circle were to find out about his son's liaison with a man.
"I don't know, Tom, but it is something I should be looking into. Arthur must have received information from someone in this household, someone on my staff. It's time I found out who has been betraying me. As far as the outside world is concerned, you're my sons' tutor and nothing more."
Tom kissed him. "Thank you."
Arthur made his preparations carefully. According to his information, Charles would be leaving the estate in the morning. Thomas had been so carefully guarded this week but now the boy would be at his mercy. He took out the size 3 dilator and played with it, imagining what he would be doing to that lovely body when it belonged to him.
As it happened, Arthur's plans were foiled when the youthful tutor left Havenwood with Charles. They returned the next day, but once again the increased security on the estate prevented Arthur from gaining access to the boy he thought of as his brother's slut.
Over the next several weeks, Chak made up to Tom for his earlier distance. In sensual sessions, he regularly checked Tom's temperature, administered preventive enemas, and inserted increasingly larger sized dilators for longer periods of time. It seemed to Chak that Tom was making good progress and would soon be able to accommodate his own fully erect member without pain or tearing.
His encouragement seemed to cheer the young man. But at times Chak picked up on a sense of regret or loss. He attributed Tom's quietness on those occasions to memories of Arthur's attacks. But Tom seemed unwilling to discuss matters when these moods occurred so Chak remained uncertain concerning their origins.
With no attacks in the past month, and with a beautiful, unseasonably warm day on the horizon, Chak proposed to Tom that they go on a picnic. Mrs. Martin, the head cook, prepared a picnic basket while one of the groomsmen hitched up a horse and buggy. Chak elected to drive the buggy himself.
They set out to one of Chak's favorite secluded locations on the Havenwood estate. Along the way they drove past rolling, green hills dotted with round, white sheep. They came to a wooded grove where Tom saw a small meadow bounded by hedges, fir trees, and a lilly pad covered pond. Chak stopped the buggy and watched Tom's face as he took in the idyllic setting.
"This is like some oil painting by a master," Tom enthused.
"It's one of my favorite places. I'm glad you like it."
They secured the horse and unloaded the picnic basket onto a blanket they spread over a grassy area that was more or less free of rocks. Out of the basket Chak pulled two bottles of French chateau wine and set them down. Tom located the glasses and the corkscrew and held them up.
"Let's start off with a little wine," Chak suggested, pleased that Tom had imbued himself with the spirit of the picnic.
"Mrs. Martin outdid herself," Tom commented as he looked at the labels.
"I believe we have Mr. Scott to thank for that little raid on the wine cellar."
Chak uncorked the first bottle and poured the dark red liquid into the glasses Tom held. He set the bottle safely upright in its place in the basket and accepted his glass. The clinking together of glasses brought out bright gleams in the eyes of both men.
"This is excellent," Tom grinned.
"The wine? The location? Perhaps the company?"
"Everything. Especially the company."
Chak leaned over to kiss Tom on the forehead. "I should get you out more often."
"Absolutely. Anytime. At your...."
Tom broke off at the look of amusement on his lover's face. "Tom."
The bottle went quickly but Chak was careful to see that the younger man had the larger share. He hoped Tom would become fully at ease as the alcohol challenged those inhibitions he'd seen of late. Not only did he hope to learn what was troubling Tom, but he also hoped to take a few consenting liberties with Tom's very beautiful body.
Chak lay down on the blanket, an arm under his head, and pulled Tom close. Blue eyes darted above his face. "You look happy," Chak observed.
"I am. I find it a strange feeling for me."
"What about when you were a child? Any happy memories then?"
Tom thought back. "I was seven or eight. My family lived in India for a few years while my father was posted there."
"What do you remember?" Chak asked casually.
"Many, many people. Nice people. Hot weather. Going to a day school with other naval fleet children. My sisters looking after me. I think that was the best part."
"And you liked it."
"Ever want to go back there?"
"Not really," Tom answered honestly. "You've got to remember I was only a child then."
Thinking that Tom's childhood had not been so long ago, Chak had to keep himself from smiling. "You wanted to join the navy. Any place special you hoped to go?"
"Canada, maybe. I remember some boys at school from Halifax. They made it sound like paradise."
"What about the States?" Chak asked idly.
"Last I heard they were no longer part of the British Empire."
Chak laughed. "You have a smart mouth, Thomas Payne."
"And it likes pleasing you," Tom announced, his eyes half-closed, his voice soft with desire.
"You've learned a lot, hmm?" The grin remained as Chak thought of the ways Tom now used his mouth in their bed.
"Taught by a good teacher," Tom replied diplomatically, his eyes dancing with mischief.
Chak considered that the time might be right to broach the topic of Tom's recent spells of moodiness. "Maybe I haven't been such a good teacher. Something's been bothering you. When I ask, you tell me everything is fine."
The blue eyes lost their sparkle. "But you don't believe me?"
"Should I?" Chak wondered. "Talk to me, my dear."
Tom blushed. Here he lay on a blanket in a setting so beautiful it nearly took his breath away. He felt a little lightheaded from the wine, maybe more than a little tight. He lay next to the man he loved, a man who'd provided him with so much.
Based on Tom's reaction, Chak guessed, "It has to do with something well-bred gentlemen do not discuss, hmm?. Have I pushed you too quickly?" He thought of the size 7 dilator he'd seated so lovingly in his young lover's posterior that morning. He let his hand slide under Tom's kilt, across the bare buttocks to the broad rim of the dilator. "Is this what's wrong?"
"No," Tom rushed to assure him. "No. Not at all."
Chak waited the young man out.
Tom took a deep breath. They had talked about so many intimate things, Chak had explored his body thoroughly, inside and outside. Because Chak had given him so much, Tom found it hard to bring up a complaint, particularly this one. They had already discussed it and nothing had changed. Perhaps the wine allowed him to let the words blurt out. "You don't spank me anymore!"
"But I thought you agreed that it would...it would...."
Chak remembered the conversation. He'd voiced his doubts but realized he'd probably given Tom reason to believe the spankings would resume. "I am guilty. I've done nothing in that regard." Chak thought back over the past several weeks. "You haven't asked."
"I was afraid you would say no again."
Tom's fair skin turned pink with embarrassment. "When I asked before -- before we talked? You said no both times. I felt so...so.... I thought I'd said something wrong. That I should have known better. It was hard to tell you."
Chak sat up and hugged Tom tightly. "I'm sorry, Tom. I didn't really listen to you very well, did I? I'm very sorry." He petted Tom's hair and held his young lover close to his shoulder. "How can I make it up to you?"
"Ask me sometimes if that's what I want. And if it is...don't turn me down."
"Of course, I can do that," Chak murmured. "But you need to understand something. I'll paddle your backside, whip it, whatever, but there's a line I shan't cross. I can't truly hurt you. What I've done so far, it's helped you to get rid of guilt. I think it's also heightened things for you sexually? Am I right?"
Tom nodded his very red face into Chak's chest.
"Say it, Tom. Use the words."
"Yes," he agreed, pulling back and looking Chak full in the face. "I liked it."
"Good." Chak gave Tom a kiss but noticed that a puzzled expression remained. "What is it?"
"What does 'crossing the line' mean?"
"It means hurting you so much that there's no sexual excitement. All you feel is hurt, physically and emotionally. Some boys I knew at the club could become aroused at the most brutal of beatings, but I don't believe you would. And I don't want to do that to you."
"I don't want that either."
"Is everything out in the open now?" Chak inquired.
Tom touched Chak's trouser-covered groin. "This isn't out in the open."
The endearing shyness Chak loved about his partner was present full force. Under it was also that hint of humor that he liked so much about Tom. Chak promised, "That's dessert. Now, lie down next to me."
"Is this where you take advantage of me?" Tom asked lightly, the brightness back in his eyes.
"You can be assured that it is," Chak replied with a large grin.
Tom nuzzled his lover and loved the way Chak's hands, in return, roamed the bare skin under his kilt. The pressure of the large dilator made him feel filled and Chak's arms around him made him feel loved.
Hidden under the thick limbs of a fir, Arthur used a spy glass to watch his brother as the elder Jackson entertained the so obviously slutty boy Arthur just knew he'd been buggering for all these months. He saw Charles pull the boy across his lap and lift the kilt. Good Christ, his brother was spanking that white bottom. He must have hit the slut twenty times or more.
He was too far away to hear distinct words, but he could make out moans of pleasure. Charles kept the boy across his lap and played with the dark object in the youngster's bottom. Another dilator, Arthur concluded. As he watched, the boy rose up on hands and knees. Chak removed the object, definitely one of the larger dilators. As Arthur watched, his brother reached for the wine bottle, dribbled some onto his whore's rear, pressed at the boy's back so Thomas put his head down on the blanket.
Arthur took delight in the way the slut yelped when the cold wine hit his hot backside. The pink buttocks turned red from the wine spilled on them. Chak leaned forward and Arthur clearly saw his brother's tongue lick the boy's bottom and thighs, licking up all the wine that hadn't already dripped onto the blanket. Bloody hell, Charles even rimmed the slut's rosy hole. The boy's movements became rhythmic as Arthur saw Charles' tongue dart in and out.
The erection that had initially flared at the beginning of the sex play grew to strain at Arthur's trousers. Standing there, hidden by the fir tree's branches, Arthur released himself and fisted his hand around the weeping flesh. He heard the moans of the shameless lovers. He saw his brother reach under the boy and fondle the slut's rigid penis. Charles soon had his whore crying out and spraying all over.
Arthur handled himself in one-handed, quick, hard strokes. His spying showed his brother sprawled on the blanket with the blond whore's head at Charles' groin. Christ, the kid had his mouth on his brother. And that golden halo stayed down long enough to swallow his brother's juice even as the red backside displayed itself gloriously in the sunshine.
Arthur shot into the fir branches and stifled his natural reaction to cry out.
TOM PARIS: Making love, having needs met, in the sunshine in such a beautiful setting was one of the highlights of the holonovel. But, now that I know that Arthur saw Tom and Chak.... Hell, it just kind of makes everything seem so different, kind of spoiled. Damn.
End Part 12
Part: NEW: 13/17
Summary and Warnings: See part 1.
"You know, I liked our picnic," Tom told his dark-haired partner as they lay unclothed with legs entwined on the large bed in their chambers. Tom's chest more or less covered Chak's, their skin tones a contrast of ivory on bronze.
"And what does that mean?" Chak asked as he nuzzled Tom's ear.
"It means we should do that again. And did you notice?"
"Mmm? What should I have noticed?" Chak was busy nibbling on Tom's throat to the extent that Tom found it a little difficult to talk.
Tom pushed upwards, holding himself up on his hands. "I handled the number 7 dilator. Now...I think I could go for the next size."
Chak slid a hand down the upraised back and pressed his hand firmly against the long muscle of a silky buttock. He sucked on a finger, then teased at Tom's small, private opening. "Something like this?"
"Oh, yes," Tom groaned as the finger swirled around.
"Let's see how you adjust to this first." And he plunged his finger beyond that welcoming bud, eliciting more moans from Tom.
Chak worked the finger until the muscle relaxed enough for it to slide in and out easily. By then, Tom was unconsciously moving his rear in time with Chak's rhythm, the youth's breathing becoming harsh and erratic. When Chak touched the sensitive spot inside, Tom cried out for more and Chak gave it additional attention even as he began to breathe more heavily himself.
Very quickly, Chak found himself with three fingers poised at the entrance to that pearly opening. When Tom flinched, Chak held his fingers motionless. He hoped Tom would be able to accommodate all three fingers. Finally, Tom hissed out, "Yes," and Chak made small movements in and out, each time going deeper and stretching him wider.
"Chak, Chak, please," Tom begged.
"Tell me what you want."
"I want you inside me. Please, Chak."
There was nothing Chak wanted more. But he wasn't sure Tom was ready. He knew Tom would need to be very relaxed to accept him, far more relaxed than he was even with all the preparation. "My love, I want to, believe me, but I think we need to work on you first."
Chak kissed him and rolled so that Tom was under him. He reached for Tom's erection and began stroking him while carefully staying attuned to Tom's body. After Tom began to strain against his hand, Chak quickly moved so that he sat on his haunches. His mouth descended on Tom's nearly purple organ and consumed it whole while Tom shuddered beneath him. Chak sucked and probed with his tongue and tasted the change in flavors, then swallowed as Tom pumped wildly into his throat.
After his climax, Tom's body was like a soft doll able to be bent, moved, even penetrated without pain. Chak knew they had gone far in the use of the rectal dilators. He wanted to believe that taking Tom now, as they both wanted, would be possible. He debated with himself whether to have Tom on his back or on his stomach. He thought the face down position, bottom raised up on pillows, would be easier for Tom to admit him, but if Tom was on his back, he would be better able to determine if Tom was uncomfortable or in pain. Without thinking further about the overall wisdom of engaging in anal intercourse at all, Chak opted to have Tom face him.
He shoved a few pillows under Tom's rear, elevating his hips, exposing him to view in a way that could be judged shameless. Tom's spent penis lay like a stranger at the top of one of those long legs. His face appeared sweetly angelic, eyes closed, a peaceful half-smile drawing a matching smile from Chak.
"I'm going to raise your legs up, my love, and I'm going to give you the pleasure you want, we both want. But if anything hurts you, you must tell me. Tom?"
"I will," he mumbled. "Please."
Preparing his hands and his erection with oil, Chak appreciated the sight of the beautiful young man so willingly open for him. With a smile at Tom's near insensibility, Chak pulled the slim hips towards him, then lifted the legs onto his shoulders. He slid his oiled fingers in and out of Tom and was pleased at the state of relaxation he found there. With a deep breath, he placed himself at Tom's entrance. Tom groaned and moved as if to bring him inside.
Chak held on to Tom's hips and began to press slowly against the virgin opening. The thick head of his organ shoved past the normally tight muscle and popped inside. At the sight of his flesh enclosed by Tom's stretched anus, Chak's breath whistled slightly. This was a dream brought to reality by the willing partner beneath him. Nothing could compare to what he was feeling now as he watched in fascination. He slipped deeper and deeper inside that heavenly home.
He brought himself to an abrupt stop when Tom whimpered and pain crossed the fair features. "Should I pull out?"
"No, no," the voice sounded faintly panicked. He gasped. "It just...it just feels so full. It burns."
"I'll rest a moment. If it proves to be too much, I'll stop."
After a few moments, blue eyes opened, lust filled rather than pain filled and Chak's relief was palpable. He knew the angles of their bodies meant that Tom could see Chak's shaft part way inside this most personal of places. In fact, Tom's eyes had fixed on the intruder. "My love?"
"Yes." Tom's response gave Chak permission to continue.
Chak adjusted Tom's legs and stroked along those pale thighs with his fingertips. He wanted to savor this moment as long as possible before he lost the ability to appreciate anything but the sensations from his hard flesh now so close to being fully embedded in his young partner. He felt Tom's experimental tightening and loosening around him and knew Tom was ready. With a cry of pleasure, he braced his arms on either side of Tom, dropped his weight down, and sank all the way in. Tom grunted but gave no sign of distress. Tom's rectum formed such a sublime, tight, hot sheath around him.
Chak lifted out part way and sank in again until his balls rubbed up against Tom's backside. He pulled Tom's legs down to wrap them around his waist and angled so that his movements in and out brought his penis to rub over and over against Tom's prostate. The young man bucked and cried out. Tom's organ jumped back to life, leaking on his stomach to join the sweat that pooled there. The usually fair pubic hairs were damply dark and, pausing, Chak thought he had never seen a more beautiful sight than this flushed youth whose hole was so completely filled.
Tom couldn't think, all he could do was feel the lust that flamed inside him like a roaring fire. Chak's buried flesh was a fiery sparkler, sending thrills in all directions. This was Tom's first time to hold a man inside of him, to have a heated instrument plunging in and out of his unresisting body. Dear God, how much he wanted this.
Chak dimly appreciated that he'd remained in one place for far too long as Tom moved restlessly. Chak felt his own hot need gather strength. He set up a stronger tempo until he was pounding into that slender body, lifting it up and settling it back with every powerful thrust. He coiled one fist around Tom's renewed erection and pumped until Tom screamed his orgasm. And he thrilled to the feeling of Tom's internal spasms as they stimulated his thrusting organ. He pushed in deeply, came out only a little way, then found himself trying to practically stuff his balls after his penis into that vibrating channel.
With a bellow, he came hard, pulsing over and over as he spurted his seed into the deep recesses of Tom's trembling body. His orgasm rippled through him and focused fiery energy into one place in his body to the exclusion of anything else in his world. He collapsed, sweaty, spent, and utterly happy onto Tom's limp frame, his lover's legs falling harmlessly to each side of him. Although Chak moaned his protest at his organ's glide from Tom's body, in truth, he could do nothing to stop its fall from Tom's warm haven.
They lay together, sweat cooling on their bodies until Tom began to stir beneath him. Chak slowly grasped the younger man's need to be able to breathe and rolled to his side. His arm rested heavily on Tom's heaving chest. He didn't want this moment to end. But eventually he began to become aware of his surroundings again. The cold on his back, the warmth at his side, the delicious lassitude of his muscles, the sense of peacefulness that permeated his entire being.
"Tom?" he murmured.
"How do you fare, my love?"
A lazy answer drifted to his ear. "Very well. Thank you."
Chak laughed. "Did you like that?"
"Oh, yes, I liked that a lot."
"Do you think you would want to do that again some time?"
"As soon as possible," came the sleepy reply.
Reassured, Chak gave him a light kiss, then reluctantly got up and went to the bath chamber. He brought a warm, wet cloth and a dry towel to the bed, knelt beside the slack form of his lover and gently cleaned him up, moving relaxed limbs at will. He carefully inspected the opening he'd so recently invaded and found no tearing, only redness. Tom moved languidly when Chak pressed the wet cloth there and wiped as gently as he could. Chak wasn't surprised to find his own viscous fluid had dripped out onto the boy's slender thighs. Assiduously, he cleaned up after himself.
Finished, he turned his attention to himself, pleased that there was no sign of Tom's blood on his penis. Relieved that Tom had not only enjoyed their coupling but that he hadn't been hurt by it, Chak placed a lingering kiss to the slightly parted lips. Tom smiled, his eyes still closed, the happiness clear on his face.
TOM PARIS: That was -- um -- incredible. Beautiful. Fulfilling. Every first time should be like that. Gods, is that a tear in my eye? Let's leave it at that, then.
Several nights later, deep, cramping pain woke him up. Tom pressed frantic hands against his belly in a futile attempt to stop it. Although the warmth felt good, it didn't stop the next wave of hurt. As carefully as he could do so in the dark room, Tom sat up and swung his legs off the side of the bed. Emerging from under the warm covers meant the night chill assailed him. Whether the cold air against his skin triggered the next attack or not, Tom didn't know. But he doubled over and groaned.
"Tom?" Chak's sleepy voice asked after him.
Surprised by the light, Tom realized Chak must have turned up the lamp's setting. He felt Chak scramble out from under the bedclothes and settle beside him.
"Cramps," Tom told him, his jaw tight.
"Have you used the water closet?"
"Do you need help?"
Tom thought he should be able to make it on his own and said so, pushing his feet into slippers and securing his dressing gown around him. But Chak's cool hand against his forehead stopped him.
"You feel warm, Tom. When was the last time?"
"'About four days. I think," he confessed, miserable and wracked with another cramp that nearly bent him in two.
"You need an enema, don't you?"
Tom had to agree, no matter that his neediness made him wish he had gone over the cliff so long ago when Arthur first attacked. He needed whatever relief Chak could give him.
"The long tube?" Chak checked and Tom grimaced but nodded his agreement. "I'll get the equipment ready."
"Chak, it's the middle of the night. You shouldn't have to...."
"Tom, you need the help. Let me do this. And next time, tell me sooner."
Tom jerked away from his touch when Chak tried to help him out of the gown. He'd been stung by Chak's scolding tone. He had to fight back the tears that sprang unwanted just behind his eyes as he placed himself back on the bed. Tom looked away when Chak's hand lay flat on his painful belly.
"I'm sorry, Tom. I should have paid more attention to you. This isn't your fault."
Chak's warmth, both in his touch and in his words, soothed away some of the pain. Still, Tom knew that very soon he'd by lying across Chak's lap while that merciless length of tubing worked its way high up inside him. All the time he would feel like a helpless, small child.
It wasn't long until that image became reality. The time across Chak's lap, with the tube firmly lodged so deeply in his bowels, seemed to last forever. The hot water itself brought on more cramping and more pain and he hated every inch of his traitorous body. The only relief came from Chak's stroking hands smoothing away the cramping and his quietly murmured words that expressed his love for Tom.
But Tom felt so betrayed by his body, so ashamed at once again ending up in this position, particularly when he'd thought he'd been making progress, that he couldn't accept the comfort. He was deeply mortified when Chak began to withdraw that endless tube from so intimate a place.
Finally, Chak gave him the go ahead to take relief. "Go on, now."
The physical remedy that he found was almost offset by the deep sense of shame that reached his soul as deeply as the tube had invaded his body. When he rejoined Chak in their bed, he couldn't look at his face. Tom curled on his side facing away from the tense body of the older man.
"Tom, how do you feel now?" Chak's palm traveled the short distance to land on Tom's forehead.
All the shame turned to anger and Tom snapped, "How do you think I feel?"
Roughly, Chak grabbed him and turned him around. "Look at me, Tom." When Tom kept his face averted, Chak repeated himself and added, "What is it?"
"I didn't want this! I thought I was getting better!"
"Is that why you're upset?"
"Yes! Aren't you? Aren't you angry with me for not telling you? You sounded like it. And then you had to spend all this time holding a tube up my backside!"
Chak's words were quiet. "I'm not the one who's angry, my love."
"Dear God, I hate this!"
Chak pulled him closer. "I know you do. But I have to tell you, I will always enjoy any opportunity to feel your sweet bottom under my hands. And it helps that doing so benefits you." Chak took one of Tom's hands and placed it against the aroused member at his groin. "Feel me, Tom? That's what you do to me."
"But I didn't do what you told me to. I failed to keep you informed the way I promised I would." Tom remained only half aware of what his words meant, what he was asking for. The blank area on his bottom pushed for some kind of contact, some kind of expiation of guilt for this latest omission, for Arthur's stealing the dilator, for neglecting the children's studies. It was as if past sins were adding to those of the present to increase his sense of guilt.
Chak must have read his mind. Tom heard agreement with his unspoken assessment. "You wish me take a paddle to you, do you not? You feel you deserve it."
Tom didn't have to say anything, he merely nodded his agreement. He felt Chak's eyes on him even as the man left the bed for a few minutes. When Chak returned, Tom was abruptly pulled over Chak's lap. Surprised, he saw an actual paddle in Chak's hand. When Chak brought the paddle down again and again, he felt his anger melted away by the searing heat that spread across his bare bottom. Chak's only words were to tell him this paddling was for his failure to keep Chak informed in a timely manner.
At first, Tom was able to compare the effects of the paddle to Chak's hand on earlier occasions, almost as if he was engaging in an intellectual exercise. He found a difference in the depth and spread of the pain, but when Chak kept going all thoughts fled before the relentless onslaught of the paddle. Each cheek must have been completely covered twice over and he faced down the need to sob. At the same time, his erect organ acted as if it liked this and he rubbed it in futility against Chak's thighs.
"No, Tom, I don't want you to become excited by this, not yet." Chak's legs moved apart and a hand pulled Tom's hard flesh sharply away from any source of friction.
Relentlessly, the paddle came down again and again as Tom struggled to undo Chak's positioning of his erection. Somehow this erotic need failed to evaporate even under the painful strikes of the paddle.
He had not asked Chak to stop before, but Tom did so now, begging Chak to please, please stop. At his first plea, Chak's hand placed the paddle to one side.
For awhile, all Tom knew was the encompassing, consuming, flaming pain in his buttocks. His thoroughly spanked bottom throbbed as if the fire would never go out and waves of heat roared up and down his body. He remembered Chak's promise, that he would give him this but would not truly hurt him. Perhaps that was why his erection failed to go limp like the rest of him.
Chak rubbed circles on his back between his neck and his lower back. "It's finished now. You held up so well," Chak assured him.
But Tom's brain had long ago ceased to process anything that didn't have to do with the location and severity of the pain in his buttocks. It hurt all over from his lower back to the tops of his thighs. And he felt sore inside from having worn the size 8 dilator for an extended period of time as well as the long moments with the tubing in place. But, for the time being, the snarling anger and terrible shame, literally, had been beaten back. He felt so achingly hard and needy. But it was Chak who claimed him rather than the other way around. The older man slipped out from beneath Tom and knelt behind him.
Roughly, Chak pulled Tom's hips up. Tom found himself posterior up, head down, flesh fully erect, with Chak's fingers at the well-oiled entrance to his body. Fingertips on his flaming bottom made him flinch, but when Chak inserted one finger inside and brushed ever so lightly against what had to be the most responsive spot in his body, Tom pushed back against the pain. The earlier soreness began to be overwhelmed by the forceful pleasure created by Chak's finger. With quick thrusts, Chak created a drilling pattern that had him groaning and begging.
"Do you want me inside you, Tom?"
"Yes. Yes, please." No matter that his bottom was too sore, no matter that he was unused to being sexually receptive. Nothing mattered except to once again experience that bewildering unfolding of rapturous pleasure.
Hands steadied his hips and then Chak's bulky organ pushed insistently against the passage to gain entrance. Without resistence, Chak slid in. Only the shudder of Tom's body suggested that Tom's enjoyment might be mixed with pain. Chak paused midway down the tight channel.
Wanting something more, Tom groaned loudly. He was filled and stretched yet there was still a yearning for the friction inside and outside that only Chak could provide. Chak was asking him what he wanted and he could only say, "Move. Harder."
With startling speed, Chak buried himself deep inside, pulled back, pushed in, his belly momentarily flush against Tom's smarting backside. Sweat slicked Tom's flaming buttocks and each impact of Chak's body against him sent a jolt through his length. For whatever reason, this position brought Chak's firmly seated flesh into almost constant contact with Tom's interior hot spot. Tom's slender frame heaved up and back in a feverish need for more and more stimulation, no matter how much his warmed backside protested. The pain and the pleasure became a single hot flame that engulfed his whole body and when Chak reached under him and grasped his needy organ, Tom shot over and over in pulsing waves.
The invader in his backside, the hot body draped over his back, the warm breath against his ear, all of these fused together as Chak's climax became his own. Tom's whole body shook, his legs trembled, something huge and scalding bloomed inside him, and he wailed his ecstacy between weeping gulps of air. Chak's large body crashed them both onto the bed and he found himself in a place where there was no pain, no humiliation, no anger. Just bliss.
Chak lay beside his spent lover and wondered if all sense had left him. He was to go away again on business and he'd promised that Tom could come with him. Yet now he'd taken the youth after penetrating him with that long tubing. Moreover, he'd paddled him soundly. Whether it was the unrelenting wooden seat of a buggy or the hard leather of a saddle, he doubted that Tom would be able to take any additional pounding to his rear. A lusting penis was such a poor companion of common sense.
CHAKOTAY: Chak almost became carried away with that paddle. He nearly didn't stop when Tom asked. For me, it was like being a voyeur. I watched. I was fascinated, turned on, and somewhat ashamed of my reactions. Maybe even a little sick with what my alter ego did. I should mention something about the holodeck safeties. Tom and I had agreed to leave them off. Tom thought it would be better to actually experience any pain that might come from the dilators so that, if necessary, we could stop their use. When we made that agreement, neither of us knew that I'd be taking a paddle to his ass. Or that Arthur would turn out to be so evil.
End part 13
Part: NEW: 14/17
Summary and Warnings: See part 1.
Arthur watched in dismay as both Charles and Tom mounted horses and headed away from the estate. His information had been correct. Both his brother and his brother's slut left together for Sir Morton's. Not only was Thomas leaving, but he wore riding pants instead of the kilt Arthur had grown fond of seeing on him. A disappointing morning all round. Arthur faded back into the evergreens and gave some thought as to what he would do next.
Tom had been so sure he could ride this morning. He'd turned down Chak's offer of padding the seat and taking the buggy. But that was before he felt the leather of the saddle smack into his very sore posterior with every step of the horse he rode. He felt grateful that Chak didn't try to talk to him much this morning. The effort to find some kind of comfortable seating on the saddle kept him preoccupied with his physical discomfort. Not only that, he had many things on his mind.
He could scarcely believe the events of the past several days and nights. Although he'd wanted all of the intimacy Chak had given him -- except for the enema, of course -- he found that his interior was rather sore this morning. And his paddled bottom.... If the two had been musical instruments, then one was a screeching clarinet and the other was an all-encompassing, but off-key, French horn.
Based on the frequent glances Chak cast his way, Tom was sure the other man knew just how uncomfortable he was. Even so, Tom was happy to be with him. It meant Chak trusted him, saw him as an equal.
As his abused rear became a little more accustomed to the horse's pace, Tom found himself remembering the excitement of this morning. Chak had been inside him for only the third time, had fulfilled Tom's fantasies of being together in that most intimate of ways. And he'd been so solicitous of Tom, always asking if he was comfortable and making sure Tom received pleasure in equal amounts, if not more.
The remembrance of Chak's rigid penis pushing across that place inside him, the spot that made him feel as if there was nothing more to live for, made Tom shiver as he remembered it. To his chagrin, these thoughts made his own organ throb inside his riding pants. It was almost enough to make him forget his soreness. Almost.
"Tom?" Chak asked.
Tom looked at his companion.
"We're going to take a short break up ahead."
A narrow trail led through the woods to a ravine of large boulders and shrubs. Chak dismounted and motioned for Tom to do likewise. Tom couldn't stop the wince when his feet hit the ground. The shock went straight up his legs to his sore bottom. Chak's arm reached out to Tom's shoulder and Tom allowed himself to lean into the hand that braced him. In a tone that brooked no argument, Chak said, "I better carry out an examination."
Tom knew what Chak meant and made a face. "There is really no...."
"Let me see for myself," Chak interrupted sternly.
Tom allowed Chak to lead him around to the far side of a large boulder. To his relief, Tom could tell that no one traveling on the same road would be able to see them. With a sigh, he undid his pants and pushed them down to his knees. Chak peeled his undergarment down, exposing his rearend to close inspection. Craning his neck around, Tom saw Chak squat down until his eyes were level with Tom's backside.
A cool hand swept down his rump and Tom grimaced. There was no way he could hide the pain he felt. Hands pulled his hips back and pushed his legs apart. Then Chak's fingers pried his cheeks apart. He couldn't see what Chak could, but it wasn't hard to suspect that he must appear red and sore. Unexpectedly, he felt Chak's lips kiss his uncovered anus. The gesture brought his own flesh to eager attention. If only he weren't so sensitive there, he would welcome more than Chak's mouth.
When Chak stood up, with a last brush of his hand across Tom's rear, he nodded that Tom could arrange his clothes. Once fully dressed, his erection safely tucked away, Tom looked at his lover, wondering what was next.
"Tom. I'm sorry, but you can't make this trip. It's my fault, I shouldn't have paddled you, shouldn't have pressed sex on you."
"No. Chak, I wanted what we did. I did. Please? I don't regret it."
"I believe you, Tom." Chak's smile was gentle, remorseful. "But you are bruised from my paddle and this ride isn't helping any. If you keep going, I fear that you will be nearly crippled by tonight."
Tom was emotionally torn. He knew Chak was right but he wanted to stay with his lover. Their love making had meant so much to him, how could they be apart now?
"I had best go home with you, have a telegram sent to Sir Morton, and begin again tomorrow."
"You shouldn't have to do that," Tom protested. "That's a lot of unnecessary riding."
Chak kissed him on the lips. "I don't mind."
"But we haven't seen or heard of Arthur for over a month. I'm safe, Chak."
"No, Tom, Arthur is...."
"You riding back with me...it's.... Please, do not treat me as if was a child. For I am not."
Tom's words hit Chak hard. They reminded him very painfully of the age difference between them. "Very well. But be careful, Tom."
"You, too. Arthur could have changed his mind by now and decided to go after you."
"You're beginning to sound like me." Chak realized that Tom needed to be on his way. "Go on, then. You'll be there in time for your luncheon."
Tom wanted to stay with Chak and wished that was possible, but not if it meant the older man had to ride back to Havenwood with him and then ride out again the next day. As if sensing his conflict, Chak embraced him in a big hug. "I'll miss you, Tom."
Before he could think about what he wanted to say, Tom blurted out, "I love you."
Chak's hug tightened as he kissed Tom deeply and thoroughly. "I love you, too." The declaration from Tom marked the first time Tom had said those words. The moment lingered between them, until Chak finally reminded him, "But you need to go back."
Tom stared at Chak's face, his longing undisguised. "I don't want to be away from you."
"I know, and I feel the same way." Chak's kiss was one of good-bye. "Now, when you get back, ask Miss Simpson to prepare you a warm bath. And no dilators tonight."
Disappointed, Tom mounted his horse. He settled very gingerly on the saddle, the act of sitting reawakening the pain. This reminder told him that returning to Havenwood was the right thing to do. At the main road they went their separate ways.
An hour or so later, Tom didn't know what frightened his horse. For a moment he thought he saw a coiled snake, but that seemed far-fetched. Nonetheless, something sent his horse rearing up and side winding until he lost his balance and fell. Later, he found out that Arthur was the cause of his fall.
When he came to, Tom's head felt as if it should be separated from his shoulders if only to give it a quiet burial. The pain was blinding, throbbing, nauseating. Disoriented, Tom groaned. It was dark, he couldn't move, not that he really wanted to. But somehow he was upside down, his head hanging down. Under his belly he felt a leather saddle. He detected the gait of a horse.
Finally, it made sense. He lay across the saddle of a horse, under some kind of tarp or blanket, his eyes covered, his feet and hands bound. Someone was leading the horse but he couldn't tell where the person was nor where he was being led.
Another groan brought the horse to a stop. Someone came to his side and lifted the tarp. He couldn't see through the blindfold but he heard a voice much like Chak's only rougher, harsher. "So. You're awake. Be a good little slut and nothing bad will happen to you. Cross me and you'll regret it immediately. Nod your head if you understand."
Tom nodded his head and moaned at the pain the movement caused. "Let me go," he ordered.
An evil chuckle greeted that gambit. The tarp came back down and the horse began to move again. With his body draped over the horse's back, there little Tom could do to free himself. His bound hands had been brought under the horse's belly and tied to his feet. He surmised that no passerby would be able to discern a human being under the tarp. But, in case someone was around, he should try yelling for help.
"Help! Help!" His loud plea hurt his aching head and only brought him more pain. The horse stopped, the tarp raised up and something briefly knocked him senseless. When he came to, he was vomiting into the gag that had been newly placed across his mouth. Rough hands tore the gag off.
"If you say another word, I will kill Charles and the children. I will do it. Do you understand?"
Arthur's tone had Tom believing him. His mouth tasted terrible and he wanted water. Instead of asking for some, he mumbled, "Yes, sir."
"We'll be there soon."
Tom didn't know where *there* was, probably the place Arthur had been hiding these past months. Successfully hiding. Tom also realized no one would miss him until the next night when Chak came back and found he'd never returned. That gave Arthur a good 36 hour or more head start on any possible rescue.
TOM PARIS: I've asked myself a million times why I didn't just tell the computer to halt the program. Our doctor diagnosed a moderate concussion. However, he tells me he's healed me with his brilliant medical techniques. At any rate, he believes I simply forgot about the reality of being Tom Paris, that I was immersed so deeply in Thomas Payne's life that I couldn't remember who I really was. It's all kind of hazy to me, but I guess the doc's right. I was hurt, sick, and confused. So, I lived Tom Payne's life for awhile. Not exactly great timing, was it?
It was an ingenious device, a rope hammock that made his prison. The sling supported his naked back even as his hands and feet were tied so that he lay spreadeagled on it. Leather straps ran over his forehead, chest and legs. The hammock hung suspended at waist height from metal hooks in the cave ceiling. When Arthur inverted the ropes, Tom didn't fall out, so tightly was he bound. Turned over, the ropes burned and chafed his skin. Fortunately, Arthur didn't keep him that way for long. It had been a demonstration.
The damp cold of the cave sapped his strength as did the persistent headache. Although the chill had him shivering, Arthur wouldn't cover him. He said the stove would soon provide enough warmth. Tom doubted that anything could successfully heat the cave, but kept his opinion to himself. He'd been cuffed around enough by Arthur for his sarcastic remarks when they reached the cave. He didn't need more of the same treatment.
One at a time, Arthur retied his ankles so that his legs were bent at the knees. When the second ankle was free, Tom tried to kick out at his captor but only succeeded in being turned upside down for a while, his ankle quickly tied once more. Arthur left him turned over, and Tom wondered what the man was planning.
He had his answer as he felt a knife carefully cut through some of the ropes over his buttocks. With mounting dismay, he realized his bottom was a defenseless target. He screamed when he felt the sharp end of a whip cut across the exposed area. It welted him three more times until Arthur righted the hammock.
He desperately tried to control his reaction to Arthur's whipping him. The thin leather of the whip had cut through buttocks already made painful by the paddling he'd had that morning. Where Chak had aroused him, this beating left him in searing pain and fear. Chak had described 'crossing the line' to him and this clearly qualified.
"Do not disobey me again, whore. That, too, was a demonstration. It will be far, far worse if there is a next time."
Tom managed to keep himself rigidly under control, but the fear remained as did the smarting pain in his backside. He made no move to try to stop Arthur this time when the man secured his ankle so that his knee was brought up. However, when he tried to bring his knees together, Arthur roughly pushed them apart. Tom knew he was completely at Arthur's mercy. His whole body was exposed to the man's view, touch, whim, pain.
Arthur held up a metal device, twin to the one Chak had first shown him. It was the rectal dilator with the adjustable diameter. It gleamed, reflecting glints of silvery light. In Arthur's hands it looked like a device of torture, not a medical instrument at all. Tom restrained the urge to ask what Arthur planned to do with it. It was too late. Arthur's thoughts were clearly registered on his face.
"I understand my brother's been using his little collection on you. Something about your being too tight? But I'll bet he hasn't used this yet, has he?"
Tom's mouth went dry with fear. He couldn't answer.
Arthur's hand darted down and smacked his face. "Answer me."
"Yes, sir. No, sir."
An insane laugh echoed in the cave. "That's better. Well, let's see what we can find out with this little piece of medical equipment, shall we?"
Tom didn't think his abused bottom could take it in, not without injury. "Don't."
Arthur's eyes danced in the lamp light, a kind of craziness firing from within. "You have no say here, slut. But first, let's get you all cleaned out. Don't want you wetting yourself, do we?"
"I won't. I promise."
A cynical laugh answered him. "Of course you will. Now, don't argue with me or there'll be more of the whip. And this time I won't be gentle."
If the first time had been gentle, Tom hadn't understood that. Fearfully, he watched as Arthur brought out the same narrow tube, the same syringe that Chak had used. It dawned on him that Arthur had been in their rooms, had stolen these from Chak. The man's imperviousness to any sense of danger was frightening. Obviously, Arthur would do anything he wanted, even invade Charles' home, for his own gain.
Tom wished it was safe to close his eyes against the imminent invasion of his body. He was too afraid of being shocked by something he wouldn't see coming to shut his eyes. Yet with no warning, the oiled tube slid into his penis and was pushed firmly until it reached his bladder. Arthur aimed the tube of urine down to a bucket where his bladder obediently drained out its contents. Confused and hurting, Tom felt that he was watching someone else's body. His own couldn't be here, bound in these ropes, having a tube poked unwillingly into an extremely private location.
When Tom was empty, Arthur filled the syringe from a kettle of water and then affixed it to the end of the tube. This water was cold and Tom yelped when he felt it stream through his penis. He tried to curl up but the ropes prevented him from succeeding. Dear God, it was cold. It hurt when it hit his bladder. His teeth began to chatter as the cold seemed to ice him over. But Arthur ignored his obvious pain and refilled the syringe again and again until Tom thought his bladder would burst.
Unlike Chak, Arthur didn't allow the bladder to empty. He kept the tube in place, kept it crimped off and simply watched Tom suffer. When Tom tried to move against the cold, Arthur jerked the tube until the end of his penis felt lacerated. His teeth chattered nonstop even after Arthur told him to quit.
But he was unable to control it, not when he was chilled through and through. In the face of Tom's disobedience, without a word, Arthur turned the hammock over, left the tube both inserted and crimped off, and applied the whip to Tom's imperiled buttocks a dozen times or more.
Each blow left a fiery trail across Tom's tender flesh. The heat and fear imposed on the deep chill forced a break in his control. He simply could hold out no longer against the strength of Arthur's torture. Mortified, Tom found himself sobbing, stuttering out his apologies for not obeying. No matter that it had been impossible to do so. The searing heat on his backside spread through his belly.
Arthur returned the hammock right side up. With a cruel yank he pulled out the tube and Tom screamed in pain. Then Arthur had his hands on Tom's penis and aimed it at the bucket. "Urinate."
It was as if he had forgotten how to control this most elemental of bodily functions. Arthur pressed a heavy hand against the swollen bladder, tightened his grip on Tom's penis and, once more, ordered him to empty his bladder. A dribble came out and Arthur squeezed until he hurt.
Tom tried to concentrate on the required activity, his mewling sounds meant to convey his good intentions. More dribbled out. Crying out as Arthur became angrier and angrier, Tom finally figured out how to make himself perform as ordered. The precious water squirted out at last.
"From the state of things in his room, it looks as if my dear brother himself gave you an enema last night. Is that correct?"
Still crying, Tom managed to tell him, "Yes, sir."
"Good. Now, be truthful. Do you need to evacuate?"
"If you're lying, I'll smear it all over you, stuff it down your throat, and leave it there until you die. Got that?"
Tom nodded. He couldn't speak over the lump in his throat. He tried to anticipate if his body needed to evacuate but he had lost the ability to read its condition. Swallowing hugely, he asked, "Could...could I try, sir?"
Arthur's smile seemed wicked. A laugh rumbled from the man's broad chest. "Certainly."
A rope dangled from the ceiling and when Arthur pulled on it, the top part of the hammock rose up so that Tom was in a position that reasonably resembled sitting. Arthur moved the bucket under him and then stood, arms crossed. Tom was mortified by the man's staring at him as he tried to perform this other, very elementary function.
Tom had to concentrate, but there just didn't seem to be anything to expel. No amount of effort produced anything for the bucket. His skin warmed by his embarrassment, Tom looked up apologetically, "I'm sorry, sir."
Arthur's only response was to lower the hammock to a point where Tom's shoulders and head were actually lower than this hips. He secured the hammock in that position, removed the bucket to a location between the stove and a bend in the cave wall.
"Well, well." Arthur returned to place cold hands between Tom's legs. Tom was startled and had to battle against tears that loomed just behind his determination.
"Please don't. Please," he begged.
"Slut, you don't even know what I'm going to do. Remain quiet." With those words, a hand smacked Tom's abused bottom and Tom cried out in shock and pain.
Cold grease was applied to his anus. The cold felt good on that sore place, but the rubbing that followed hurt. A thick finger, the nail a little torn on the edge, penetrated him. Tom could feel the ragged nail as a sharp, extra pain over and above the misery of the foray into his fear-constricted passage. At least the bright agony of the nail kept him from becoming aroused. He didn't want Arthur to see that kind of reaction and feared that such familiar stimulation might provoke such a response.
The metal jaws of the device pressed to his entrance and Tom's heart stopped. No, this couldn't happen. He couldn't take it. He wasn't ready. But without his permission, Arthur pushed it inside. It was cold. It was huge. It stretched him too far. Throwing his head from side to side as much as was possible under the leather strap across his forehead, Tom pleaded, "Please, please take it out! Please!"
"Oh, I think it looks just fine. There's a little bleeding but that's to be expected."
"No," Tom whimpered, then caught himself, afraid of being turned face down and whipped again. Not with that metal inserted in so painful a fashion.
Arthur just laughed. "Let me review here. According to the instructions, I should crank this little handle to open the jaws wider."
To his disbelief, Arthur did exactly that, turning the handle around and making the jaws spread his anal and rectal walls wider. Then Arthur stopped to look at his handiwork, as if fascinated by what he'd accomplished. "I believe we'll leave it at that for awhile. Behave yourself, though, you don't want me to crank it far, do you now?"
Shocked, Tom swore he'd behave. Arthur stared at him for a long while, gave a small crank to the handle, and then, seemingly satisfied, left Tom's field of view. With Tom's head lower than his torso, his headache increased. He felt wretched, cold, and exhausted. His bottom hurt inside and out. Although Tom would have sworn it wasn't possible, he must have dozed off for awhile.
When he woke up, he could neither see nor hear Arthur. The metal device still made its home in his anus and rectum, the stretching painful and causing some cramping. Thinking Arthur must have gone out for awhile, Tom struggled with his bonds trying to use his fingernails to loosen the rope around his wrists. But he was too securely tied up to make any kind of difference at all.
Weak and sick, he gave up. At least he was warmer now, the stove had raised the temperature of the cave to a tolerable level. But he wished for clothes. He wished to have his dignity back. He wanted Chak. He was alone and his control wavered, as if he had stored a bottomless well of tears.
Arthur's angry voice startled him. "You sniveling again? Who taught you how to be a man? Keep it up and I'll give you something to cry about."
CHAKOTAY: Once Chak learned Tom had not returned to the house, I should have stepped in and called a halt to the program. When I saw how Tom had been tortured with no safeties on.... I've been struggling with what was wrong with me that even then I let the program continue. Was it arrogance on my part? Blindness? Tom had suffered a concussion. But what the hell was my excuse?
End Part 14
Part: NEW: 15/17
Summary and Warnings: See part 1.
Tom choked on his sobs and tried to obey Arthur as best he could. Some of his training reasserted itself and he brought himself under control. He felt as if he'd swallowed a brandy snifter full of unshed tears. They collected far down in his throat until Tom thought he might choke on them.
Arthur approached, once again raising the hammock's top half to a near sitting position. He went away briefly and returned with a bowl and spoon. "Well, let's see if you'll eat your meal."
With no choice in the matter, Tom submitted to being hand fed by the man. The food barely counted as sustenance, consisting of a bowl of lukewarm cereal, tasteless and thin. The beverage of the evening was a small glass of water. All of this took place while the metal jaws pried him apart, completely vulnerable to Arthur's whim. Arthur acted as if it was perfectly normal for Tom to have such an invader in his rectum.
Shivering from the hopelessness of his situation, Tom tried to think of something, anything, he could do. Because he was in a sitting position, Tom thought he might be able to expel the metal dilator, but a quick experimental push told him this particular tormentor was not going anywhere. Morever, he feared Arthur's wrath if he did succeed. Obediently, he ate his cereal and drank his water.
He couldn't hold onto his cereal for long. Nausea welled up and he frantically called for Arthur who was busy eating his own meal. "I'm going to be sick."
Arthur laughed. "Good try, boy."
Although he tried to keep the food down, his stomach began to heave and he started to retch. At those telltale sounds, he realized that Arthur had gotten up and run for the bucket. It appeared just in time. His two meals of the day tumbled out his raw throat and into the bucket.
Arthur disappeared for awhile with the bucket as Tom sat shivering in the hammock, his headache fierce, his stomach roiled, his mouth nasty and vile. When Arthur returned he wore a calculating look.
"So. My brother's little whore. What should I do with you?"
Despite his misery, Tom recognized a rhetorical question when he heard one. He remained silent.
"Well, I think we should crank it up a little."
Arthur turned the hammock over so that Tom was still in a sitting position, but upside down, his welted rear and thighs higher than the rest of him. The obscene device remained grimly in place. Tom desperately wanted to cry out a protest, but he was helpless to change anything except for the worse.
The touch of Arthur's hand on the crank was transmitted through the handle to the metal jaws and Tom began to shake. Arthur turned the handle once and then again. Tom felt the tearing burn like a hot poker stoked up inside of him. He felt as if Arthur was going to literally tear him in two. Without being able to stop himself, Tom screamed in pain when the cranking continued.
The torture of the cranking finally stopped. Instead, Arthur fondled his backside. The roughly calloused hands cruelly grabbed his welted buttocks, kneading them, patting them. In his upside down position, Tom could do nothing to stop Arthur's hands from touching him. Begging and pleading had no effect on Arthur's actions When Arthur's ragged fingernail prodded at the tip of his sore penis, Tom screamed again.
Arthur turned his attention to Tom's balls and tugged so hard that Tom passed out.
When he came to, it was to find one kind of nightmare had ended, but another kind had begun.
Loud noises, confusion, pain, all of these made impressions on Tom as he came to. He opened his eyes and thought he saw his father standing over him. He closed his eyes and tried again. It was his father. He was horrified that his father had to see him like this. Never mind how the admiral got here. When he looked up, an angry, disgusted, agitated man looked down on him. Tom looked away, his heart sinking.
"Let's get this out of you," his father growled.
To his great shame, Tom found himself still bound in the hammock, the metal device lodged in his swollen rectum. At least he was facing upwards and his father couldn't see the welts on his backside. He gasped when the admiral pulled at the dilator, then screamed at the pain this caused. When he could speak, Tom gave a panting direction, "Uncrank it," he directed.
The admiral grasped the crank -- Tom could feel the pressure of his grip -- and turned it several times, reducing the diameter enough so that it could be tugged out. Once it was free, the admiral threw the device against the cave wall where it broke into pieces. Mortified, Tom could feel blood seeping out onto his legs. He wanted to say something, anything, but no words came.
"I'm going to get you untied from this thing," the admiral said, as if Tom was a total stranger. His father completely avoided the searching gaze Tom gave him and ignored the pleading on Tom's tear streaked face. Tom could understand the man's reaction at finding his son had weakened so badly, had disgraced himself so thoroughly.
As his father worked to unstrap and untie him, Tom could hear sounds of fighting in another part of the cave. He recognized Chak and Arthur's voices swearing at each other. When curiosity finally enabled Tom to speak, the question was not about the noises but about this rescue. His voice was raw from his ordeal. "What...how did you find me?"
"Sir Charles and I heard screams," the admiral told him shortly.
There was a larger question, but Tom was too spent to follow up with another query. Despite the debilitation of his ordeal, too many matters tore at Tom to let the strain claim him. That his father had seen his humiliation, that Chak must now be fighting his torturer, all of this swept away his fatigue and made his pain recede to manageable levels. Mounting fury surfaced to supplant weariness.
Once freed of the restraints, he traveled through the cave toward the sounds he heard. Tom paid no heed to his state of undress, or to the cold, or to the fact that his father would see the whip marks on his buttocks. His muscles were stiff from being bound so tightly in one place for so long, his buttocks, penis, and balls hurt, his rectum was inflamed, but he ignored all of this. Tom had to find out if Chak was all right. And he had to obliterate Arthur, no matter what it cost him.
When Tom rounded the corner of the cave, a cold blast of wet air hit him but his attention turned to the fight between Chak and Arthur. Arthur sat on Chak, pounding at his pinned brother. Bellowing, Tom charged at Arthur driving him away. With rage fueling him, Tom head butted Arthur in the stomach and sent the man sprawling. Tom followed up, pummeling at Arthur and shaking off Chak's efforts to restrain him.
Arthur scrambled to his feet and backed away from Tom's furious onslaught. After Arthur tripped, Tom kept after him. Arthur scuttled backwards. Tom's persecutor tripped again against the thorny bushes at the cave entrance, made a grab for them, then screamed as Tom swung on him again. Arthur went flying backwards right off the face of the cliff into the dark night, the shadowy rocks, and the inky waves below.
Tom skidded to a stop just in time, Chak's hand steadying him, keeping him from going over on momentum alone. Breathing heavily, his face streaked with tears, Tom stood stunned. What had he done? "Oh, dear God." Not realizing he was repeating himself, Tom said it again.
"Tom? Tom? Look at me," Chak commanded, pulling him back into the safety of the cave.
"I killed him? Did I kill him?"
"That's not important right now. You are. We need to take care of you."
But Tom persisted, "I killed him?"
"We'll look when it's light out. See if he's there. Come inside, you're freezing."
"I'm cold," Tom told him.
"I know you are. Come inside. We'll find you some clothes. Come on. Here you go."
Chak's quiet words coaxed him back into the cave's interior where he came face to face with his father. "Father?"
He looked from Chak to the admiral and then looked down. Tom trembled violently, shaking so hard he thought he could come apart with the slightest breath on his wavering frame. Each man reached to hold him up and he allowed them to take him deeper into the cave but even the warmth from the stove couldn't reach the cold at his core.
Tom didn't remember much of the details. But he knew that he was dressed, taken from the cave with Chak holding one arm and his father holding the other. The coachman and a buggy waited on the land above the cliff face. He was bundled into a warm blanket and taken to the house. Some brandy, some hot tea, more blankets, a warm bed followed. His father was furious, Chak was upset. A doctor was sent for.
Dazed, he was put to bed, but he wouldn't let Chak leave him. He couldn't let Chak go. Tom hurt all over. He feared the pain inside would kill him. Curling up in the bed, he filled that brandy snifter in his gorge with more and more unshed tears until he felt he would drown from the overflow. All the while Chak remained beside him and warmed him when nothing else could. Chak promised that he was safe now, that he would heal.
Tom worried that he wasn't safe yet. Not with his father staying in the same house demanding answers. Chak reassured him that his father would be taken care of.
Early in the afternoon of the next day, Charles found Tom's father in the library. Both the doctor and the retainers had gone. Tom finally slept.
Owen Payne reminded Chak of Tom as the admiral stood before one of the tall windows looking out at a grey, fall day. The man was almost as tall as Tom, just as ramrod straight in his posture, his hair a silver-shot blond, his eyes a wintery blue.
"How is my son?"
"The doctor says that he will heal."
"His body will heal," the admiral corrected.
"You know I don't approve at all of this...this...what you're doing with my son."
Chak tried to think of something to say to help the other man. Finally, he simply told the truth. "I love him."
"He's a child for God's sake. He's -- what -- ten or fifteen years younger than you?"
"Twelve. Tom may be young but he knows what he wants. When Tom feels better, you can ask him," Chak offered.
"I don't care what he wants. It's not done. I won't have it," Payne announced harshly.
"I don't think you have any say in the matter."
"He'll do what I tell him."
Throughout the exchange, Chak remained outwardly calm even as the admiral became more and more demanding. At the man's latest assertion of power, Chak spoke very clearly and let Payne see his own anger. "Tom is an adult and will do what he wants to do."
"We'll just see about that."
"What do you mean?"
"Tom killed that man!"
"It was an accident. And *that man* was my brother. Arthur was at the edge of the cliff, but Tom didn't know that."
"So you say," the admiral shot back, a shrewd look on his face. "Suppose I tell the authorities otherwise? After all, I was there as well."
"You'd send your son to prison just to keep him away from me?" Chak was incredulous.
"Sir, I would do whatever it took to keep him from ruining the family name."
Pressing a point, Chak informed him, "Admiral, I dare say Tom would not go to prison for killing a man who tortured him. But the scandal of a trial, all the details of Tom's injuries coming to light, Tom's having to testify under oath about his relationship with me, that would very probably sully your precious family name."
Chak was pleased to watch the admiral back down. But it disturbed him to see Payne change from an angry dictator to a confused father. "I came here, all the way out here from London by train and horse, to find out the truth behind the rumors I'd heard. And what do I encounter? Your family melodrama. My son abused, nearly killed."
"My brother was deranged. My father knew it, I knew it," Chak said wearily.
"Then why didn't you do something before he assaulted and violated my son! He kidnaped my boy from a public road, for God's sake."
Seeing the man's anguish, Chak understood that Owen Payne's rage at what had happened to Tom rivaled Chak's own. He wished he knew what to say. "I tried," Chak confessed.
Despite the early hour he poured a drink from the decanter that sat on a table in the corner. He offered the admiral a glass. At least Payne accepted the offered hospitality. Both sat down and seemed to welcome the diminution in hostilities.
"I tried to do what I could, but there are things that get beyond your control." Chak hoped Tom's father heard the determination in his voice, "I never wanted Tom to be hurt. Never."
"I believe you." After a pause to gaze into the contents of his glass, Payne spoke again with some combination of hurt and quarrelsomeness, "I just don't understand this. Men don't...don't...with other men."
"I'm afraid they do, Admiral. You don't even know it, but you have friends who have male lovers."
"It's not done."
"I know it comes as a shock to you. This is your only son and you have great hopes for him. Hopes that don't include me."
"You grasp that concept very well, sir." The admiral swirled the liquid around and raised the glass to his lips. "What if it were one of your sons? You can't tell me you don't have hopes for them."
"Of course, I do. But my boys will make their own choices when they're of age. I plan to support them and love them."
"Easy for you to say when they're mere lads."
Chak decided to tell the admiral something important about his son. "Tom no longer wants to have a naval career. We were trying to cure -- um -- his problem. Although we were close to success, Tom does not want to pursue the navy."
The admiral blushed, his fair skin turning a light shade of pink, very much like Tom's did. "Some cure," the man grumbled. "Tom's always wanted a career in the navy. Just like me."
"That's not true for him anymore."
They each took a sip from their drinks. Chak reached a decision. "When you found me on the road, I was heading to a business meeting. Lord Morton and I disagree on the details of a railroad spur to this part of Devon. Our disagreement has kept me at Havenwood and prevented travels abroad for me, my children, my children's tutor."
Tom's father cocked his head, apparently not sure where Charles was going with this line of thought.
"But I will settle the matter quickly. I think my doing so and taking my children and their tutor on an extended tour would be a good solution for all of us. Your family name would be unsullied by gossip about us. Tom would have a chance to get away from the painful memories that he'll have if he were to remain on the estate, and my children...I think my children would benefit from seeing new places. Family legacies can have their negative sides. This scandal with their Uncle Arthur is not something they need to hear about while it is so fresh."
"So, Sir Charles, you propose to take my son away?"
"Admiral, with all respect, sir, if Tom had a naval career, he would be gone from England's shores for long periods of time. We will return eventually, both for visits and longer stays. And you and your family would always be welcome to visit us."
Although Chak realized that the man's prejudices would make it unlikely that he would come for a visit, the offer was sincere. Chak didn't want to cut Tom off from his family.
"You would allow this dispute with Lord Morton to be resolved on less than favorable terms?"
As Chak looked around the library, he saw one of his favorite rooms. Nothing compared to the near loss of Tom. "Tom and my children mean more to me."
Chak watched as the admiral looked him over carefully. After all, Chak thought, he'd basically asked the admiral for his son's hand in marriage without actually having said the words. Not surprisingly, Payne continued to look skeptical.
Offering what he hoped would be the final payment in the negotiation of the dowry, Chak said, "As for Arthur, I think any talk about Tom and me can be laid to rest on his sad, mistaken soul. He did kidnap Tom and hurt him. The doctor saw the injuries. You can return to London and confidently tell whoever told you these rumors that they were created by a deranged man. Inquiries would back you up."
Forcing himself not to look at the emotionally struggling admiral, Chak swirled the drink in his glass and took another sip. Perhaps it wasn't fair to Arthur, but Chak harbored a deep seated anger at his brother. He had no doubt that his brother would have killed Tom after he finished torturing him. If additional dishonor came Arthur's way, that would not bother Chak unduly.
"Sir Charles, what would happen to my son when your children no longer require a tutor? Would he just be *kept* by you?" There was distinct bitterness in the admiral's words.
"Your son has a university education. That's a rare asset in England. There will be many opportunities for him."
Owen Payne sat motionless, his face not giving away what he was thinking. It came as a surprise when Payne announced, "Very well, Sir Charles."
Chak breathed a sigh of relief.
"I need to see Tom before I leave."
"I don't want Tom to be upset. He's suffered enough."
The admiral gave Chak a tight smile. "He's my son. I care about him, too."
"I'd like to talk to him first. Let Tom know what we talked about, sound him out about traveling abroad. Then I'll leave you two to talk privately."
"Travel?" Tom asked for what had to be the third time. He lay in the middle of the bed, pillows plumped up behind his head and shoulders while Chak sat beside him, holding one hand. He'd slept for hours and now realized a great deal had transpired during that time. "Leave here?"
"Yes. Yesterday I was on my way to tell Lord Morton that I wouldn't agree to his plans for the railroad, but I've changed my mind. I think it would be best to settle this conflict. After all, any rail travel to this area is better than none at all."
"Because of me?"
"My boys need not hear about their deranged Uncle Arthur, the man who kidnaped their tutor and fell to his death into the sea."
Chak's argument mollified Tom somewhat. Perhaps a new start would help them all. But Tom realized that his father was here, and that fact raised his suspicions. "Did my father threaten you?"
"Me? No," Chak responded with a slightly edited version of the truth and gave Tom's hand a pat. "He doesn't understand, and he's upset."
"He's not going to drag me back to London, is he? I won't go."
"I think he wants to. Every father wants to keep his child safe. But he can't make you go against your will. And I won't let him."
Tom blinked at the steely tone in Chak's voice. It was clear that his father wasn't alone. Chak also wanted him to be safe. When Tom recalled that he'd made a wild rush at Arthur to protect Chak, Tom recognized the same drive in himself. "I love you."
Chak leaned down and kissed his forehead. "I love you, Tom. And nothing has to come between us. Nothing."
Tom flung his arms around Chak as if the solid weight of the other would keep him anchored.
"Your father wants to see you alone," Chak told him after hugging Tom closely.
Tom didn't think he was ready, knew he'd never be ready. He had a question before he would let Chak leave the room. "How did you find me? I thought Arthur would have so much more time before you would miss me."
Chak's smile was grim. "Your father came to the estate. He'd heard Arthur's rumors in London and was upset enough to come out here unannounced to see for himself. I think he was prepared to take you straight back with him. When he got here, Mr. Scott told him he'd just missed us by an hour or so and how to find us.
"Your father did catch up to me. But when we compared notes, we realized he had not passed you on the road and he should have. I never should have let you return alone. Tom, I am so sorry, I should have gone with you."
"I was the one who...."
"No. You're not to blame, Tom. Hear me? I understand that you feel guilty, but Arthur is the one who endangered you, he's the one who hurt you. Whatever your level of guilt, don't you think he punished you enough?"
Chak's dark eyes reflected worry and concern and Tom understood just how much his lover cared for him. "Thank you. Thank you for finding me."
Chak pulled him up a little and embraced Tom in an unwavering hug. Letting go at last, Chak asked, "Do you think you could see your father now?"
Tom had no wish to deal with the man he'd let down so badly, but realized he had to face him sooner or later. "Yes. Send him in."
Chak let the admiral into the room and escorted him over to Tom's bedside. "I'll leave you now."
When Chak had closed the door behind him, Owen Payne stared for long moments at his son. Tom felt as if those blue eyes could see everything but he tried not to squirm. Hoping his voice sounded even, Tom offered, "Father. Please sit down? There's a chair over there."
His father brought the chair over and sat on it, his posture militarily rigid. "Thomas, what happened to you?"
Tom knew his father wasn't asking about the incarceration in the cave. "I am sorry. I tried so hard to grow up to be everything you wanted. I know I failed you at everything."
"Thomas," the admiral began, then his voice faltered. Tom was thoroughly shocked to see tears cloud his father's eyes. The moment of vulnerability passed quickly, but it was a sight Tom would never forget. "Thomas. Yes, there is a lot I expected of you. I cannot deny how disappointed I am. I disapprove of your choices. I am unable to support you in this."
At these words, Tom found himself struggling to retain control. "Father...."
"No. Wait. I need to say this. I strongly doubt that we shall see each other after this. You will travel, return from time to time, begin a new life." Tom feared his father's next words. "But neither those facts nor my strong disapproval change this. Your mother and I love you. We always will." The admiral stood up. "Good-bye, son."
His voice cracking, Tom managed to say, "I love you, too."
Then his father was gone and Tom turned over on his side and wept into his pillow. The storm of unwanted emotion had passed in merciful privacy before Chak joined him, held him, and told him over and over again how much he was loved.
End part 15
Part: NEW: 16/17
Summary and Warnings: See part 1.
The fair-haired senior pilot of Voyager and the dark-haired first officer cuddled together on the couch in the first officer's quarters.
"What'd you think?" Chakotay asked.
"About which part? The inexperienced virgin? The violated kidnap victim?" Tom threw back. "And what about you?"
"It was an intense experience."
"You could say that again," Tom drawled.
"I liked the inexperienced virgin part myself."
"You mean you liked deflowering the inexperienced virgin."
Chakotay grinned. "I stand corrected. I *loved* the deflowering part."
"I thought you did," Tom commented dryly. "What about those wooden things?"
"The rectal dilators? Loved them, too."
"You know you have a very kinky side," Tom accused.
"Hey, it wasn't me who had all that guilt."
"But you had the equipment to spank that inexperienced virgin into the next century."
With a self-satisfied smirk, Chakotay agreed, "I did have quite a collection."
"They were all right," Tom gave him. "But that kidnaping? I didn't like that at all. I mean, I totally forgot we were on the holodeck. I thought Arthur was going to torture me to death."
Reflecting, Chakotay nodded his head. "I think that was his plan. Listen, Tom, I got caught up in it, too. The doc says you had a concussion. At least you had an excuse. There I was fighting Arthur in the cave and all I had to do was tell the computer to end the program." Chakotay's voice trailed off as he thought about the implications.
He put those thoughts aside to address Tom's reactions to Arthur. "I should have realized. Maybe what happened in the cave was too intense, too horrific. But's it's probably true what they say about holocharacters. You can invent them, but then they take on lives of their own. I guess I thought Arthur would demonstrate, in not so painful a way, that you couldn't trust everyone."
"Believe me, Chak, that's one lesson I already knew."
"I'm sorry, Tommy."
CHAKOTAY: I was so relieved Tom came out of that experience all right. His memories of what Arthur did to him were uncertain. The doc didn't rule out that he might have clearer memories someday, but thought it unlikely when Tom couldn't describe what happened after the doc finished working on him. The doc fixed up the concussion and the damage to his ass, but Tom just gave vague descriptions of Arthur's torture. He didn't remember sending Arthur off the cliff. It didn't relieve me of my guilt for not stopping the program, but it helped a little. I guess.
Chakotay picked up another thread. "And by the way, Thomas Payne wasn't exactly how I set up the character either."
"He was supposed to be this sweet, innocent virgin."
Tom gave him a look of mock horror. "You mean he wasn't?"
"He was. But he came to like things I didn't plan for him to like."
"Well, perhaps the person playing Thomas had other ideas," Tom smirked, "things he wanted to try."
"He certainly did."
"I think you're going to have to make it up to me for Arthur." Tom gave Chakotay an uncertain smile.
With a tight hug that brought the pilot practically into his lap, Chakotay whispered, "Of course, I'll make it up to you. I have big plans for tonight."
Tom brightened. "Yeah?" Chakotay's kiss was his reply. "All right," Tom smiled when his lips were finally released.
"Glad I could help."
Tom's curiosity prompted the next question. "Who was giving Arthur all that inside information?"
"Hilly Simpson, the upstairs maid. Her brother was a gardener who gave Arthur the information she passed on. She was Arthur's secret lover. Knowing Arthur she was simply someone he used."
"I hope Chak fired their asses clear into the Atlantic."
"A little upset, are we?"
"Damn right. They caused me a lot of trouble. But at least Arthur's body was found. We know he didn't follow Tom or the family on their travels."
"Actually, I think Arthur's ghost remained behind to haunt the West Devon coast forever."
"You are mean," Tom admired with a laugh. Satisfied concerning the status of Arthur, Tom asked, "So, what do you think happened to Chak and Tom?"
"They lived happily ever after," Chakotay deadpanned.
"Well, they were affluent."
"Where did they live?"
"All over. Havenwood would always remain as home base. But I'd like to think they traveled extensively. Visited places tolerant of their affection for each other."
"I like that," Tom mused. Turning serious, he asked, "What about Tom's father, his family?"
Chakotay gave him a look that wondered if Tom really wanted to go into that. But wide blue eyes innocently gazed back at him. "I doubt if Tom ever saw his parents or sisters again."
"A little like Voyager," Tom muttered.
"But this was a holodeck fantasy," Chakotay continued as if he didn't hear Tom. "What would you like to see happen?"
"The admiral and Tom's mother visit them at Havenwood, see that he's successful and happy. And they give him their blessing."
"Then that's what happened," Chakotay promised.
"With my luck, the train they're on is in a wreck with one of those new internal combustion carriages and they all die first."
"Stay with the fantasy," Chakotay encouraged, stroking the side of Tom's face with a light touch.
"Maybe that's best," Tom agreed.
TOM PARIS: The story of Tom Payne and his father got to me. Wonder why, huh? I know Chakotay didn't script all of that, so it's kind of interesting, I guess, that both me and my alter ego had these father issues. When Tom Payne's father said he loved his son, that really got to me. Yeah, he couldn't approve of his son's choice of a male lover, and I figure that was just part of the times. But he said he still loved his son. That counts -- no matter what century you're in.
Tom asked, "Speaking of family, what about John and Edward?"
"John grows up, travels, and nearly dies in some disaster. That experience sends him to the seminary and he becomes a minister," Chakotay invented.
After a moment of silence in remembrance of the young John Jackson, Chakotay asked Tom, "And Edward?"
"Goes into business manufacturing kinky devices. Gets his father and his father's lover to test them out."
Both of them laughed at that. Then Chakotay grew serious. "Would you ever want to try one of those Victorian devices?"
"For real? A nice plastiform dildo, maybe. But one of those wooden things? I don't think so. And that metal device!" Tom shuddered. "Thank all the gods Voyager has regenerators."
"In terms of the larger plan, the trust issues...."
"You mean, do you think I'm ready? Yeah. I think this *virgin* ass can handle anything you throw at it."
"I like the sound of all that bravado," Chakotay grinned. "And the enemas? The catheter?" Chakotay pressed while Tom squirmed against him. "Well, Tommy?"
"Why don't we talk about how much you liked paddling my ass?"
"Not yet," Chakotay grinned. "But there was another device that should have been in that program."
"Oh, great one, what did you forget?" Tom teased.
"A manual tickling device," Chakotay announced and pounced on his lover, tickling him onto the floor. Tom giggled and protested and tried to block Chakotay's quickly darting fingers.
Then Tom managed to get the upper hand and flipped Chakotay onto his back. He rubbed his way backwards until he hovered just above Chakotay's crotch. His balls hung suspended under the kilt.
Chakotay's grasping hands smoothed over the bare buttocks and then slipped around to caress Tom's cock and balls. "I love you in this sexy outfit," Chakotay told him.
In husky tones, Tom replied, "I love wearing it. Now, take advantage of me while I'm still an inexperienced virgin."
When he stopped laughing, Chakotay pressed a moist finger into that born-again virginal ass. "Ohh, Tommy, I think it's too tight."
Tom wiggled his ass down on the finger and moved in a seductive fashion. Breathily, he asked, "What do you want to do about it?"
Reaching under a couch cushion, Chakotay withdrew one of the dilators and held it up so that Tom could see it. "What do you say, my little virgin?"
Tom gasped, "That's...that's huge."
"It's the 8," Chakotay assured him with a devilish grin.
"Where'd that come from?"
"I replicated it. However, it isn't wooden, but plastiform, so it gives a little. You see, in the story, they only did this one that once."
"As I recall, they escalated to Chak's gorgeous, fully functioning size 9 instead."
Chakotay placed the dilator on the couch cushion and fumbled under the cushion again. This time he brought out the metal dilator and held it up for Tom's perusal.
"Uh, Chakotay, that's the evil one." Tom's eyes darted between the device and Chakotay's dark gaze.
"You can take this, Tom. The plastiform one will warm you up, this one will make sure."
Tom swallowed hard. He'd had to go bragging on his abilities to take anything Chakotay could dish out. He just hadn't counted on Chakotay's ingenuity. Ignoring the quick beat of his heart, Tom felt Chakotay's finger circle around inside him. If only he could hide his hesitancy, but he was afraid his voice betrayed him as he murmured, "I guess this calls for a little trip to the bathroom first."
After a quick goosing, Chakotay withdrew his finger and sat up, Tom on his lap, the taller man's legs to either side of him. "I want to do it, Tom. All of it."
"Do you still want this?"
Tom closed his eyes. They were on the brink of fulfilling fantasies he had barely owned, much less thought would come true. He knew Chakotay wouldn't let him be hurt, would instead use pain and pleasure to take him where he had never been sexually. An aching need that had smoldered unsatisfied for so long asserted itself. Despite all of his experience, no lover had ever pledged to put Tom's needs first. And if it meant Chakotay's desires were fulfilled as well, then they were truly a match for the ages.
The sexual tension in the room had Tom taut with need; his cock provided its own answer as it propped up the kilt. Tom wanted to grind his ass into Chakotay's lap. "Yes."
When Tom opened his eyes he saw Chakotay's own urges flare up in the intense, dark eyes. He pressed a quick kiss on those chiseled lips and then gave himself over to his lover for the duration. His voice thick and needy, he offered, "I'm yours now, Chak. All yours."
Chakotay checked Tom's face, looking for any signs of doubt. When he found none, only a sexual hunger that took his breath away, Chakotay kissed Tom in a long, tongue-filled effort that left them both gasping. With the kiss completed, the sternness and dominance that he knew Tom craved asserted itself. Without warning, he flipped his unsuspecting lover so that Tom lay across his lap, the kilt tucked into his waistband.
"Hey!" Tom protested, shocked to find himself ass up across Chakotay's lap.
His question serious, Chak asked, "And this? Do you want this, too?"
Tom didn't have to consider his answer for long. "Oh, yes." Despite his consent, Tom was further stunned when Chakotay's hand descended, landing swift, hard blows to his backside.
"This spanking is a warm-up, Tommy," Chakotay told him, making Tom shiver at the strong tone. "I know what this does for you."
Tom couldn't believe how turned on he became as his bottom heated up under the smart swats. His erection pressed into Chakotay's thighs, urgently seeking friction. "No. Be still." Chakotay warned and gave him another very hard smack. He let Tom rest for a minute, then demanded, "Stand up."
Those command tones of Chakotay's settled into Tom's bones and muscles. Backside flaming, emotions churning with a combination of craving and compliance, he sprang to his feet in obedience to Chakotay's order. "Yes, sir."
Tom stood in front of Chakotay, the kilt pushed out of the way, as Chakotay inspected for damage to Tom's bottom. The knowledge that he was being scrutinized in such an intimate way and in total silence unnerved Tom a little. His erection lost some of its strength. But a cool finger trailing down the crack in his ass restored his arousal.
Tom was keenly aware of how he must look. He hoped like hell he was turning Chakotay on because the flame that had begun in his backside was surging through him like a warp core coming on line.
A light swat to his rear presaged Chakotay's next directions. "Bathroom. When you get there, I want you to kneel on the floor, ass up, knees apart, head down. Wait for me."
Oh, gods, Tom thought. He did exactly as Chakotay demanded, his cock leading the way, bobbing and expectant. It was still rock hard even as long moments went by and he wondered how long he was going to have to wait. Head down, his body trembled as he knelt in anticipation.
Tom enjoyed the commanding conduct of his lover. Anyone who knew him slightly would have thought Tom would rebel at such an approach, but Chakotay knew him well. Tom had confided in him his deepest needs for a loving authority in the bedroom. He craved the way Chakotay set boundaries for him, kept him safe from himself.
Outside of the sexual arena Tom could be as contrary and rebellious as an outsider might expect. But inside of it, he could get off merely hearing Chakotay's strongly spoken demands for his body's acquiescence. In this setting, obeying Chakotay was his greatest turn-on. And Chakotay let him know that it was the same for him to have Tom submit so willingly.
Finally, Tom heard Chakotay enter the bathroom. "Time for an enema," was all Chakotay said, but Tom shivered anyway from the sexual titillation that phrase evoked.
The lubed up nozzle of an enema snaked its way down to his waiting anus. The muscles tightened around it as Chakotay released the warm water into his bowels. Quickly, Chakotay replaced the contents of the syringe and squirted the water again.
Tom could barely hold himself still as Chakotay repeatedly filled him with the warm water. But Chakotay told him how he looked beautiful this way. That Tom should hold as still as possible, surrendering his body until Chakotay gave him permission to move. All Tom could do was groan under the sensations from his ass, the heady eroticism of being penetrated in this way, and the twisting heat that shot from his ass to his head.
Reality impinged when Chakotay told him he could get up and use the toilet. It was strange to find Chakotay crowding his personal space in the bathroom, straddling him as Tom took care of the pressure in his bowels. At the same time, it felt intensely intimate, as though no part of him was his alone. With Chakotay so close to him he could smell the commander's musky sweat. It seemed ironic that in this connection Tom should feel an end to the raw loneliness that had taken up so much of his life.
Once he'd finished and cleaned up, Chakotay gave Tom a hand to his feet. "Lie down on your back."
Tom looked at the floor and back to Chakotay. "Here?"
Two very swift, very hard smacks to his bottom told Tom that this was exactly where Chakotay wanted him. He lowered himself to the carpet and positioned himself as Chakotay had ordered.
Chakotay hiked the kilt to his waist. "Lift your legs."
There was more of the command voice in Chakotay's demand and, eyes hooded, Tom obeyed, pulling his bent legs back to either side of his chest. He could not have been more vulnerable this way. Tom felt his breathing speed up as he waited for Chakotay to take his body any way the commander chose.
Chakotay retrieved a large tube of lube. He took in Tom's flushed look, Tom's chest rising and falling in ragged breaths, his uncovered flesh. Tom remained completely and utterly open to the submission Chakotay asked of him. That Tom could do this now meant something had indeed changed on the holodeck.
End part 16
Part: NEW: 17/17
Summary and Warnings: See part 1.
Chakotay knelt down so that his knees were under Tom's buttocks, raising them up and locating that tiny anus at a good height for the work before them. His own erection tested itself against the constraints of his pants. But its demands would have to wait as he focused on Tom's beautifully rounded buttocks, still a rosy pink from the warm-up Chakotay had delivered earlier. After assessing Tom's position, Chakotay moved Tom's bottom to achieve a better angle. Now Tom would be able to see the plastiform dilator slide into him.
"That's it, Tom. Stay open like that for me." Desire won out over domination in his speech. He saw Tom's offering as a fearfully won gift and knew his own need was as great as Tom's.
Chakotay slicked up his fingers and found Tom easy to prepare, the muscles loosening nicely under his touch. Within a few minutes he had four fingers sliding in and out. Tom's hips followed his rhythm. Chakotay generously greased the dilator and held it against Tom's waiting entrance. Deliberately dropping the command tones to made sure Tom knew he had a say in this decision, he asked, "Are you ready, Tommy? Do you want this?"
"Yes. Oh, yes." Tom's words came panting out, confirming that the pilot both wanted this penetration and was ready for it.
Chakotay placed a hand on Tom's thigh at its junction with Tom's hip and spread his legs just a little further apart. Satisfied, he began to work the dilator inside the well-lubed entrance and stopped only when he had pushed the head all the way past the anal sphincter muscle. Tom hissed and Chakotay held it in place for a few moments as Tom adjusted to its girth. "Ready?"
"Yes," Tom murmured. "Oh, gods, that's big."
"Do you want to feel it fill you up?"
"Yes. Please," Tom begged, his eyes widened as they focused on the large shaft surrounded by his tight skin.
Careful to go slowly, Chakotay pushed and twisted the thick object inch by inch into Tom's waiting body. As he drew closer, he could detect soap as well as the sexual aroma of Tom's need. There was something intoxicating in the heady scents of his lover's arousal. He tried to dampen his own reflexive excitement by concentrating on the precise motions of his fingers. With the flat of his hand, he pressed against the rim until it was fully seated. "There. It's all the way in. Feel how it fills you, feel how thick it is, feel its contours."
Tom's body yielded to the huge intruder up his ass, placed there by the man he loved. Although the dilator gave a little, Tom's internal muscles had to conform to it, adjust around it. As sweat trickled unchecked down his face, onto his neck, Tom's breath hitched in his chest when Chakotay's fingers twisted the rim to one side and back, then in and out. "Oh, gods."
"Yes, Tommy, that's it. Feel it all." Chakotay continued with the dilator play until he had Tom writhing his hips over Chakotay's thighs. After he pulled it out, Chakotay carefully inspected Tom's anus for signs of abrasion or difficulty. But Tom looked good for the next step. He was loose and relaxed. And if the groans were any indication, he was more than ready for it. Chakotay applied lube to the metal spreader and held it up for Tom's view. "I'm going to fuck you with this, Tommy. Hold very still. Do you need a reminder?"
"No. I can be still," Tom assured him. His ass still felt warm from the last few swats Chakotay had delivered just after the enema. He felt some fear but he trusted Chakotay. They both had a goal in mind and this would help them achieve it. If he couldn't accommodate this, then they might not be able to do anymore this night. "Do it."
Chakotay centered the metal jaws and began to insert them into the pink opening. Tom flinched when he felt the cold of the device against his skin. "What is it, Tom?"
"Ah." Chakotay took it out and warmed it in his hands, reapplied lube, and set it back on its course to join with Tom's body.
This time, Tom didn't flinch. He kept his legs bent and pressed back out of the way. Chakotay's knees under him provided support. Despite his desire to show trust, Tom's eyes followed each adjustment of the metal device as Chakotay slid it inexorably into his ass. He could take this, he knew he could. He welcomed the strange internal pressure that it exerted against his rectal walls. He wanted his body to widen so that the metal would find no resistance when it expanded.
"I'm going to turn the handle now. Tell me if it hurts you. Don't try to tough this out."
Chakotay knew him well. But Tom found he didn't have to speak out. Although there was a sense of burning that went with the stretching, it was only a little worse than the plastiform dilator had been.
He felt the crank opening him wider and wider still. It was all right. And, gods, his cock throbbed in response. Inside him, Chakotay's surrogate cock was rigid and firm, demanding that his anus and rectum submit to its contours.
Chakotay's hands stroked under his shirt along the damp hairs on his chest, found nipples that ached to be touched. At Chakotay's quick, decisive pinches, Tom felt the pleasure/pain travel downward to his groin and upward to his brain. Chakotay leaned over and nuzzled at his neck with teeth bared. The edges of each tooth just scraped at salty skin and fired new pulses of pain and pleasure as Tom tossed his head beneath his lover's touches. Moans spoke of longings that sought a home and found one in the sensations surging up and down his body.
"Now, I want you to get up and walk with me to the bed with that baby still inside you. Can you do that?"
It took a moment for Tom to realize that Chakotay had straightened up, was no longer pulling at his sensitive nipples or nipping along his tender throat. Finally, he was able to say, "Sure." But his voice cracked and revealed his anxiety.
Chakotay removed his knees from under Tom's hips and got to his feet. Tom let go of his own legs and lay still on the floor for a moment, the kilt still hiked to his waist and pushed aside by Tom's jutting erection. Sweat slicked the pale skin of Tom's face. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths, the white shirt darkened by perspiration. Chakotay gave his lover a hand up.
A little dazed, Tom stood unsteadily. As it should, the kilt settled about his bare thighs, but the metal spreader remained firmly in place in his ass, a foreign, strange presence. Chakotay undid the kilt and it slid to the floor. After Chakotay unfastened the buttons on Tom's shirt, warm hands brushed the garment off his shoulders, and, it too fell to the floor. With a hand on the handle of the crank that jutted out from Tom's ass, Chak guided him to the bedroom and over to the bed.
Each step Tom took told him something big and solid was at home in his rectum, stimulating his muscles to flex around it. In order to walk, his legs had to swing out a bit as they tried to accommodate the bulk of the monster inside him. By the time they reached the bed, Tom's whole body was gleaming with sweat.
Tom's excitement kept building. There had been so many ways in which Chakotay had taken him, but this one was unique. That his body could accommodate this metal pinnacle of Victorian invention was more than he had expected of it. He wanted Chakotay to keep him like this as long as possible. It was as close to the ultimate expression of his ability to give his body unconditionally over to his lover as he was likely to be able to make. Ever. He vibrated in anticipation of Chakotay's next directive.
Chak pressed against him and leaned his face in to Tom's. "My dear, I want you across my lap. Will you do that?"
A momentary flash of fear stilled Tom. That thing was inside him, a handle protruded from his ass; these were scary. But the moment passed. This was about trust. It had helped to hear Chakotay echo words he'd spoken on the holodeck as Chak. Wordlessly, Tom nodded his consent.
After making quick work of his own clothes, Chakotay sat so that there was plenty of bed on either side of him for Tom's body. He guided Tom into place across his lap with Tom's hips centered so that they were higher than any other part of his body. Tom's erection made a home in the space between Chakotay's widely spaced thighs. Chakotay's erection set its own course between Chakotay's chest and Tom's side. The handle of the crank loomed outward like a third cock.
"You look so beautiful like this. I love seeing you this way."
Tom bit back the humorous comeback. It wasn't time to remind Chakotay that the man loved seeing him submit regardless of whether there was something in his ass or not.
The erotic energy that charged Tom's brain also heightened his arousal. He wondered how long his balls would be able to withstand the awesome tension that was accumulating in them. There was just the beginning of the kind of throbbing that preceded pain.
Tom knew he couldn't give in just yet to the excitement that electrified him. There was more planned for this evening. They'd been leading up to it before the holonovel, but back then Tom hadn't found the level of trust he needed to go through with it. Now, with the incredible stretching of his anus and rectum and with the total trust he placed in his partner, Tom knew he was ready. "Now," he urged softly.
Despite Tom's plea, Chakotay took his time playing with the dilator. He moved it in and out repeatedly. He twisted the metal collar around and around so that the jaws moved circularly inside Tom. He changed Tom's position across his lap so that the angle of descent moved to provide Tom with more stimulation of his prostate. Tom's body vaulted upward and settled back down each time as his cries became increasingly incoherent.
Chakotay took the spreader completely out and reinserted it and did this over and over until there was no resistance from either Tom's anus or his rectum. He cranked it open until it was close to the fullest possible diameter.
Tom breathed heavily and moaned little cries of pleasure. His ass moved as if it was in its own world. The taking of his body this way was surreal. It felt as if he'd been opened so wide that Chakotay could look inside his stretched anus and see all the way through him to the back of his throat. The thought of his own transparency made him shiver. He was so turned on he was positively thrumming.
As if reading his mind, Chakotay asked, "Are you ready, Tom?"
"Do you want it, Tommy?"
"Yes," Tom managed to say between deep gulps of air.
Chakotay withdrew the dilator that had helped to prepare Tom for what was to come. His hands rubbed Tom's ass, gauging the degree of relaxation in Tom's body. Tom was primed. Chakotay generously slicked up his hand and his wrist, even covered part of his forearm, with the thick lube.
With care, he slid four fingers inside and found Tom receptive and able to handle more. Leaving his fingers inside, he curled them and his thumb into a fist, the thumb gripped inside the fingers. Chakotay pushed and slid further into Tom's rectum until Chakotay's wrist was encircled by the widely stretched skin of Tom's anus.
"All right?" he checked. Tom's breathing was a little fast, definitely ragged, the sweet rise of his ass arched above Chakotay's thighs.
"Oh, gods, yes."
Chakotay slowly relaxed his fist inside Tom, let his fingers play along the smooth, silky walls of Tom's rectum, his fingertips just brushing the curve to the sigmoid. There was plenty of room to move his fist in and out. In response to the actions of his hand acting in place of his cock, Chakotay's erection scaled to heights he hadn't known possible. He had to ease this down a notch or two or he wouldn't last. As he pulled out, he felt the rippling of Tom's rectal muscles. Tom sobbed when the warm flesh left his body.
Taking no chances on hurting his partner, Chakotay added more lube to his hand, wrist and forearm. He held Tom open and leaned down to blow a cool breath across that responsive entrance. Tom's writhing reaction told him that Tom was ready and then some. Once again he inserted his hand and formed a fist and, this time, pushed it more quickly into Tom's waiting, completely pliable ass. Tom's internal muscles played across the surfaces of his hand and wrist.
Tom hardly entertained a coherent thought in his overheated brain. The sensation of Chakotay's fist in his ass sent him soaring. This lust-drunk craving to experience the ultimate penetration was coming true. Chakotay was a man he loved and trusted with an intensity that carried him away from his corporeal existence to a plane of sheer sexual energy.
Chakotay flexed the fist and pulled it back and pushed it in and rocked it inside over and over until the knuckles found the bend to Tom's colon. At this point, he was embedded a third of a way up his forearm. He had gone as deeply as he could and Tom was moaning and pleading for more almost nonstop. Chakotay wanted Tom to know what he saw and hoped Tom would understand his words.
"My arm is inside you, Tommy, a third of the way to the elbow. Your asshole is stretched like a sleeve so tightly around it, but your bottom keeps moving and you keep asking for more. I'm flexing my fist open and closed inside you and I can feel strong muscles grip my hand and wrist. Your anus is hugging me so tightly. It's as if it doesn't want to let me go. I'm pulling back again. I'm going to come all the way out. There. Feel me? You are so relaxed, so inviting. Your asshole is telling me to come back. So, I'm going to shove my fist all the way back in. There. I'm in. And I'm going to do it again only faster now. Stay with me, Tommy. I know you want to come, but hold it, sweetheart, hold it for me."
Chakotay brought his hand out again and sent it immediately back in until he reached the same depth, his wrist and part of his forearm disappearing inside his lover's ass. Tom thrust back against him and rocked forward keeping Chakotay in contact with that willing interior.
As Tom's hands tightly gripped the sheets and his cries intensified Chakotay knew his lover was very close to climaxing, permission or no permission. He withdrew again and then rapidly broached the welcoming anus to bury his fist as deeply in Tom's rectum as it would go. His free hand grasped Tom's erection and stroked. "Let go, now, Tom. It's time, sweetheart."
The contractions of Tom's intense orgasm rode Chakotay's internally buried hand as if it were a docked boat in a hurricane. Tom screamed his pleasure, his body convulsing around Chakotay's arm, his fluid spurting between Chakotay's thighs and on his hand. When Tom seemed spent, Chakotay withdrew his hand, wiped it, and gently massaged Tom's buttocks.
Chakotay pulled his body out from under Tom and knelt over him, his own erection fiercely unconstrained. He covered his purple cock with his hand. It took only a few hot thrusts and Chakotay spilled onto Tom, pulsing powerfully as if he could call on an unlimited reservoir of semen. Finally spent, Chakotay fell to the side of Tom and continued his possession with an arm across Tom's sweaty back.
It took awhile before either of them knew where they were or recognized the bed beneath them, the solidity of the other's body, the pungent smells of sex and sweat. Finally, Tom made a sound. "Oh, gods," he whimpered.
"Was it okay?" Chakotay asked. "Are you all right?"
"Oh, gods," Tom repeated as if he'd latched onto only one phrase and hadn't the ability to locate another.
"So the metal dilator was good for something?" Chakotay asked after several minutes had gone by with only their breathing to indicate that the slack and sweaty men on the bed were still alive.
"Uh-huh. I'll replicate one," Tom managed to tease, his breathing still not totally under his control.
"That's all right."
"You mean it's the thought that counts?"
"Chakotay, you have no idea what that fisting was like."
"Tell me. I kind of missed your perspective on that."
"That's because you were so busy fucking me senseless. I couldn't damn well speak and be fucked like that at the same time."
Chakotay brought Tom closer to kiss him soundly. "Tell me, Tommy. What was it like with my arm up your ass?"
A dreamy expression played across Tom's face. His mouth moved several times to try to explain, then he gave up. "I can't. I'll have to show you."
"I'll take your word for it?"
"No, Chakotay," Tom told him, "You have to experience this for yourself. It's just unbelievable." At last he found words to use to describe what happened. "It's like when I crossed the threshold at warp 10. I was everywhere at once. That's what it was like. Like I was outside of my body, watching you, and at the same time I was inside my body feeling you. My whole body was like six feet of rectum and only three inches left for the rest of me. And I was your six foot fist. Oh, gods, Chak."
Chakotay smiled at the image of a six-foot rectum.
Tom returned little by little to himself. "Are we going to have to work on your trust issues?"
"Maybe we could go back to the holodeck," Chakotay considered.
"What about Chak and Tom? You think they ever did anything like that?"
Chakotay gave it some thought. "Only after Chak whipped his ass to a nice warm pudding and got Tom so relaxed he didn't know his own name."
Tom's laugh turned nervous. "Hey, I knew my name."
"Sure you did. What was it?"
"Give me a minute," Tom kidded him.
"I love you, Tom."
"Love you, too."
Feeling reflective, Chakotay mused,"Guess the vacation's over in the morning."
"Yeah," Tom sighed and snuggled closer to Chakotay. "Do you think you'd like to go back to that holoprogram?"
"Only as Tom's size 10 rectal dilator," Chakotay joked.
"You're kidding," Tom said doubtfully.
"No, I'm not," Chakotay said with a straight face, then was surprised at Tom's reply.
"Okay. But we are going to work on *your* trust issues. We've pretty well taken care of mine." Exhaustion was beginning to claim Tom and he almost didn't hear Chakotay's response.
"So you say," Chakotay grinned at that presumption on the part of his lover. However, he realized there was something he needed to say. "I trust you with my life. So I guess that includes my ass. Sign me up for next time."
With a happy grin on his face, Tom fell asleep. He didn't tell Chakotay that it was an affirmative answer that he wanted, but not necessarily the deed.
CHAKOTAY: Was this holonovel just so I could fist Tom? Of course not. That was something we both talked about as a symbol of something more important: complete trust between us as partners. Tom had to trust that I wouldn't hurt him. And I had to trust that he would tell me before I did. If we'd asked for all that holodeck time so we could just have sex, Kathryn would have rightly said no. But it was about issues of trust for Tom that went so deep that he was sure he might go his entire life unable to give himself to another in a way that included his soul as well as his body. Well, he might not describe it that way. But I think this was about Tom placing his soul, however briefly, in the care of another. I'm privileged that he chose me.
TOM PARIS: My soul, huh? That's part of what I like about Chakotay. He can see things in spiritual terms. And when he does, it shows me a way to see it, too. Was fisting a spiritual experience? I don't want to get carried away here. Let's just say all of the experiences, being a reborn virgin, walking around in a kilt, laying across Chakotay's lap, having his fist up my ass, having his arms around me, waking up from a bad dream with him leaning over me, having him in my life to love me and to let me love him. It all adds up, you know? Spiritual? Yeah, okay.