ONE: Vanilla on My Hands

1: Defenseless and Needy like a Pup in Heat

"I am severely disappointed in you, Frank," Gerard said simply, his voice low, etched with a stern, deadly warning that had a tingle running down Frank's spine. The same kind of feeling you get when you're walking alone at night. Gerard ran his skilled, pale fingers through his windswept, slightly greasy, orange locks.

Frank couldn't reply however, he was more preoccupied with staring up at his Master, the submission piling over his senses like molasses. He tugged the rope around his wrists, the tight, thick cordage that bound each of his limbs to each of the mahogany bedposts, exposing and sprawling him out like a fur rug on which to be trampled. Frank let out a small whimper around the ball gag in his mouth, tugging again as he craned his neck to look at Gerard, who had his arms crossed over his chest, still dressed for work.

Gerard had sent Frank home early, getting more and more enraged with the young boy; but it was all on purpose. Frank had decided that morning that he had had enough of Gerard being so boring. Considering that 'boring' was Frank's usual spanking and degrading, and Gerard just wasn't getting the hint that his submissive wanted more . Nor would Frank say he wanted more lest he receive a literal violent and unpleasant kicking in the ass.

So, that was when Frank had begun to mess up; spilling Gerard's coffee on the floor, misspelling his notes and wandering around like a lost fart. However, the cherry on the bondage-frosted cake was when Frank had pretended to be listening to music, well aware that the phone was ringing off the hook. He heard Gerard all but blow a fuse and storm out of his office, looking exactly like Frank had pictured. He was livid. And the dominant, death-like glare was doing something and everything to Frank's insides. Gerard ripped the earbuds from Frank's ears and grabbed the twenty-two-year-old by the ear, hoisting him up onto his feet. He told Frank that he was excused for the rest of the day and when Gerard got home, he was expecting Frank to be on the floor by their bed and he wanted visible marks on Frank's knees that he had been sitting there the entire time.

But of course, Frank went home and took a nap instead, falling asleep with a smirk on his face. He did, however, get into position a couple of minutes before Gerard got home, anticipation thrumming under his veins as he stripped down to nothing and waited, perched excitedly on his knees, eyes trained on the door like a puppy awaiting his owner. Frank did not have marks on his knees and Gerard looked even more pissed off. This was how Frank ended up in his current position, staring up at Gerard, who hadn't even gotten out of his clothing, only having shed his blazer. He was still dressed in his Prussian blue slacks, his crisp white shirt still tucked in, sleeves rolled up and his black tie loosened.

"So disappointed. What's gotten into you?" Gerard asked as he unfolded his arms, the riding crop coming into Frank's view again, immediately making the younger boy's asshole clench. Frank let out a muffled sound in reply and Gerard frowned, snapping the crop down, hitting Frank's big toe and making him jerk, "I didn't give you permission to answer me, did I, boy?"

Frank shook his head, feeling the sweat beading under his damp fringe from the constant panting and straining. His core muscles ached as he continued craning his neck to look up at his God, his worshipped Master, the man he based his life upon, keeping him high on the shiniest golden pedestal. Frank flopped back, giving up for a moment, letting his body rest as he tried to calm his insides. His heart threatened to potato-gun out of his ribcage like a flea on acid, his stomach continued to do jumping jacks between his colon and his diaphragm, and his brain that had whited out of reality minutes before when Gerard had grabbed him by the hair and thrown him into the mattress as though he were throwing a misbehaving dog outside.

"I don't know what I'm going to do with you..." Gerard tutted, lowering the riding crop down, trailing it over the sole of Frank's foot, making him squeeze his eyes shut and his leg jerk as the intense tickling ran up his body. Frank bit down on the gag, trying his best not to kick and jerk and scream as the torture continued. Frank glanced down at Gerard between his feet, who was watching him solemnly, his eyebrow raised a fraction as he leaned an arm on the bedpost and slid the leather tip of the crop up and down over Frank's foot. Frank fell back again, his eyes widening before they shut as he clenched his fists, panting, feeling hot tears running down the sides of his face as he held on to whatever sanity he had left.