Security

Written By: Mel


Reggie's P.O.V.

I suppose I should start this tale with an introduction. My name is Reginald Smithaven-Johnson, but everyone who knows me calls me Reggie. I live in an old Victorian house with my partner Eric Coombs. I find it hard to believe that Eric and I have been together for four years. We met during my second year of university, he was guest lecturing in my chemistry class. Eric is a chemical engineer and does research for a major pharmaceutical company and is the most gorgeous hunk of manhood I have even known and what the hell he sees in me I have yet to figure out.

At the time we met I was on the maximum safe dosage of Ritalin, for the purpose of controlling ADHD. I had been taking the drug since I was in grade school. Born to wealthy parents, sixteen years after the birth of their only other child, my brother Edward, I was something of a surprise.

My mother felt she had done her wifely duty providing my father with a son and heir in the person of my brother and considered me to be at best a distraction to her social life. My father had little time for me. His world revolved around running the family business and training Edward to take over the company when he retired. So of course it came to a shock for these two socialites to be saddled with this unexpected, hyperactive, unyielding child.

I was raised with the daily reminder that my brother had always been such a well-behaved boy and I should strive to be more like him. I never found it easy to sit still and be quiet as I was so often admonished to. I wore out a succession of nanny's each of them quitting with the recommendation that my parents `do something about that boy'. But not having the patience to deal with my neediness, they would simply hire a new nanny.

By the time I entered the second grade in the Wallingford Academy, I had developed a reputation among the teachers as being a problem child. My parents were finally encouraged to get me professional help and so I found myself dragged off to a child psychiatrist and quickly put onto higher and higher dosages of Ritalin until I reached the maximum amount. Of course this caused other minor side effects such as insomnia so I was put onto sleeping pills as well.

I made my way through the succeeding years of school in something of a drugged haze. My parents were quite happy to have a well-behaved, albeit drug-addled child who was easily sent from school to summer camps without cramping their busy lives.

I had a few friends along the way but none of whom I would have called particularly close. The nearest thing I came to a good friend was a guidance councilor during my high school years at Ravenrock Preparatory. Mr. Whitehead was one of those teachers who really connected with the kids. Everyone liked him but for some reason beyond my comprehension he took a real shine to me and I to him.

I found myself physically attracted to him and wishing he were not my teacher so that I could become his lover. Of course, he never would have allowed me to act on those feelings but they were a powerful reason behind most of my teenage masturbating fantasies.

Mr. Whitehead took a group of us boys on a camping trip that fall and it was then that he learned the extent of my Ritalin use. He was not a fan of the widespread use of Ritalin. Oh, he acknowledged there were some kids who did have real problems and for them the drug could be a godsend, but he felt parents and teachers were often just too lazy and uninterested to give kids the time and attention they needed to learn self-discipline. So they would resort to the easy way out and drug the kids into submission.

It's funny when I think about it. Mr Whitehead was so popular amongst the kids when you consider just how strict he could be. He was a lot of fun and showed us all learning didn't have to be a torture. His assignments were interesting and we really learned. However he wouldn't suffer slackers. If you were late handing an assignment in or did less than your best work, there were consequences. The worst one of all though was the look of disappointment on his face. No one ever wanted to disappoint Mr. Whitehead.

I wanted nothing more than the respect of this man. When he would give you that patented smile of his, the one he gave when he was proud of you, your whole world would light up. It was that smile that had me make arbitrary decision to stop taking my Ritalin in the winter of my sophomore year. I wanted to show him I had that self-discipline he was always talking about. I wanted him to see that I could manage to learn and grow without the use of the drugs.

Of course, I made this decision without discussing it with anyone. Going cold turkey after being on the drug for more than eight years caused me horrible side effects and I was suddenly depressed and found myself in my mother's bathroom swallowing a handful of sleeping pills. Fortunately, the housekeeper caught me in the act and I was rushed to hospital to have my stomach pumped.

When I was confronted over it, I confessed to having stopped taking the Ritalin and why. My parents were so infuriated when they found out that I had gotten this idea after talking with Mr. Whitehead, they quickly arranged to have him fired. I never saw him again. It was years later that I heard he was teaching at a reform school for boys. I often wondered if he remembered me with anything other than contempt over my attempted suicide and his firing.

I never allowed myself to get close to anyone after that. My first real sexual encounter was with a guy I met in a bar one night during my first year at University. He took me to a cheap hotel room and fucked me dry. The pain was beyond belief; the only saving grace was the fact that he'd used a rubber. Nope, relationships were not for me. I wasn't going to get myself hurt by allowing feelings to get in my way.

Then along came Eric Coombs. I was seated in the front row during Eric's lecture and although I'm sure what he had to say was very interesting. I couldn't keep my eyes off his beautiful body. He was at least six inches taller than I and about forty pounds heavier. It made me feel so small and insignificant.

At the end of the lecture he took questions. I tried so hard to think of an intelligent question to ask of this beautiful man. A question that would make him take notice of me. But in the end I stopped myself. I reminded myself that I wasn't worthy of his attention and there was no sense getting my hopes up.

However, at the end of the class as we were all filing out of the lecture hall, my Professor took hold of my arm. "Reggie, I want Mr. Coombs to meet you," he said as he pulled me forward. "Eric, this is the young fellow I was telling you about, Reginald Smithaven-Johnson. He's the son of Edward Smithaven-Johnson Sr., of the Smithaven Foundation."

I rolled my eyes, `Oh great, another one just interested in my family money and not in me at all.' Well I couldn't have been more wrong. Eric, it seemed, had been encouraged by Professor Ogilvy to get the inside track on some grant money, but Eric was very weary of the Professor and told me in no uncertain terms he would not be approaching me or my family for research money.

However, this gorgeous man kept talking to me. He asked if I was interested in having coffee with him. I was to learn at a later date that the Professor had dropped the less than subtle hint. That Eric and I had something' in common and that maybe Eric might make use of our orientation to get to know me better and therefore have better chance of getting on my good side and getting the money.

He asked me out to dinner the next night and before I knew what was happening I was spending the weekend at his house. When Eric learned of my Ritalin use and how long I had been taking it, I could see the disapproval in his chocolate brown eyes. He was like a bloodhound seeking out information on me and my life, and for some reason I found myself compelled to tell him the most personal details about myself.

Intimate bits and pieces, my parents and their lack of interest in me, my inability to stick with one thing with out the drugs, my dismal sex life, I laid it all on the table for him. After the second week, Eric presented me with a complete research paper he had done on Ritalin, its effects, indications and contraindications. All in all he felt with what he had learned about me and the drug, there was no way I needed it or should have ever been on it so long.

Within the month, this wonderful man and I were living together and he had me begin the long slow journey to making myself Ritalin free. He had a complete timetable drawn up and hauled me off to a specialist to have it approved. We spent the next three months slowly weaning me off.

My moods began to swing into highs and lows but he was so patient and kind. However, my lack of concentration soon became more apparent and he made me make up lists and charts with all of my responsibilities. Classes, bills to be paid, assignments to hand in, it went on and on. Then it happened. I blew up and threw a major tantrum over some small issue, which to this day I can't remember although I'm sure he does.

Eric brought up the subject of discipline that day and before I knew what had happened I was over his knees getting my bare butt spanked until I thought it would burst into flame. And when it was over he held me in his arms and told me he loved me. He called me his Brat and told me that I would be his and he would be mine forever. That was four years ago, the four best and happiest years of my life.

Oh, they haven't been always easy years. I know that I have challenged him and exasperated him, but he still stays with me. I'm not an easy person to live with and off the drugs, I am a hyper personality. But somehow he got me through University and keeps me in line enough to hold down a real responsible job with the city’s planning department. He wouldn't let me take the job with my family’s Foundation that my father offered me when I graduated. He made me see that it wasn't a real job, just a figure head position glad-handing and schmoozing the public.

Although I don't have the family money behind me anymore, father cut me off when I wouldn't come and work for him, I am happy with Eric and have pride in what I do.

This brings me to this last Saturday afternoon. Eric was out playing golf with some old friends. I don't play as it simply eludes me how people stay patient enough to hit a little ball with a stick and chase it around the grass. Eric had tried teaching me but after the tenth go round he was sporting a black eye where I had accidentally hit him with the club and I was permanently banned from the game.

We had plans for that evening, it was Eric's brother's thirtieth birthday and we were going to a big bash his wife was throwing for him. So while Eric went golfing and I stayed home to indulge in one of my favourite past-times. Reading Discipline Fiction stories on the Internet. Eric had actually encouraged this hobby as it gave me the opportunity to read about other people, all be they fictional, who live in our lifestyle. I had recently found a new site by one author and thought this a good time to see what her stories were like.

Her writing was good and the first story appealed to me a great deal. The stories were short and easily read in about thirty minutes or less. As I began the second story I found it quite different from the usual Top/Brat fiction. This one was from entirely the Top's point of view and was not exactly happy. This Top spoke of how exhausting it was having this Brat depending on him to make all the decisions of his life. Of how at first it was fun, but it had been a couple of years and it had lost its appeal. The strain of dealing with the same issues all the time, of repeating things over and over with this needy Brat, had worn the man out.

I began to compare this to my life with Eric. Was I too wearing my partner out? Could he be growing tired of my neediness? I had, like the Brat in this story, repeated the same ill-behaviours numerous times. The more I thought about it, the more I began to envision my Eric feeling the same way.

I read on to a further story with a similar theme, unhappy Top and too needy Brat. Oh God, that was me. I was far too needy. I was going to lose Eric by my behaviour. By the time Eric came in the door from his golf game, I had worked myself into a full-blown panic over it.

Poor Eric was confronted with me sobbing in the living room and when he tried to comfort me to find out what the problem was, I started screaming at him to leave me alone; that he was better off without me and since he was growing sick and tired of me anyway, I might just as well pack and leave now. That seemed to be the breaking point as I soon found myself standing in the living room corner, face pressed against the wall.

"Now when you've pulled yourself together enough to explain what this is all about then you may come out and not a second before." He spoke with his usual Eric firmness. God, how I was going to miss him, but I might as well face the truth. I was too much trouble and he was better off without me.

Eric's P.O.V.

It was late afternoon when I arrived home from my golf game. I was in a particularly good mood as I had finally broken 90 and was feeling rather amorous. If we timed things right, we could spend a couple of hours in bed having some fun before we needed to get ready for my brother's birthday party that evening.

When I walked in the door, I called out to my young lover but got no answer. His car was in the driveway so I knew he was home and thought he might be out in the backyard. As I was walking through to the back I heard a muffled sound coming from the living room. I turned to investigate and found Reggie lying on the sofa with his face buried in a pillow, quietly sobbing.

I sat beside him and laid my hand gently on his shoulder so as not to startle him. "Reg, honey what's wrong?" My inquiry was met by a stiffening shoulder and a muffled ‘Go away’. I tried pulling him up into my arms to comfort him but he rolled himself into a tight ball around that pillow. No adult I know can roll themselves into such a tight little ball as my Reggie. He wraps his arms around his pulled up knees and tucks his head down inside. I've been tempted to try picking him up and dropping him, just to see if he would bounce.

Determined to help my obviously agitated lover, I slid my arms under that tight little ball to lift him and that's when the ball morphed into a wild cat. Reggie's arms flew out from his body, his right elbow catching me in the nose and causing an explosion of pain. He yelled out "Get away from me!"

I was momentarily stunned by the pain in my nose. When I regained my wits, my young lover was swiftly backing up towards the doorway. "Reginald Smithaven-Johnson, stop right were you are!" I yelled out to the fleeing figure and he froze in his tracks, four years of obedience overcoming his desire to run. I stood up still holding my throbbing nose and pulled Reggie back to the couch by the arm. "Sit!" I commanded and then drawing a deep breath, I took a seat beside him.

Reggie sat stiffly like a condemned man awaiting his execution. I wrapped my arm around his shoulders and pulled the ridged body up against my own. Taking my free hand, I tilted his chin towards me so I could connect with him but he closed his eyes and turned from me. I took a firmer hold and spoke. "Look at me, Reggie." I tried to keep my voice calm and reassuring but my Brat was having none of it.

He squeezed his eyes shut and struggled again to get away from me. "Just let me go!" he shouted. "I know you're sick of me, so let me pack my things and I'll leave!"

I held him firmly and tried to calm him several times and obtain some understanding for this inexplicable behaviour change, but Reggie was inconsolable and seemed unable to provide a reason for his near hysteria. Continuing only to yell that I was better off without him and he should leave me now, as he physically fought to pull himself away from me.

I knew this was getting me no where so I pulled him up off the couch, landed two firm swats to his bottom, dragged him to the nearest corner and planted him into it. "Now when you've pulled yourself together enough to explain what this is all about then you may come out and not a second before."

I sat down in my leather recliner, which gave me a perfect view of my Brat where he stood, face pressed against the wall. Reggie's entire stance was a picture of tension, his hands were balled into fists, his normally beautiful round bubble butt was tucked in and tight, his shoulders were hunched and his legs ramrod straight. As I sat I began to consider the words or accusations that my boy was slinging at me. What in the name of heaven set this off I wondered? He had claimed that I must be sick of him and that I would be better off without him. Even went so far as to say he would leave me. Although I knew Reggie well enough to know that these words were spoken in a state of great agitation and they were not reflective of his honest feelings for me, I will confess that I was not steely enough to hear them and be unmoved by them. Damn, it did hurt.

I gave myself and Reggie sufficient time to calm down and ease the hurt. No matter how hard he tried after about ten minutes his muscles began to relax a bit and he went from his soldier like stance to shifting from one foot to the other. When I noticed his head turning slightly in an attempt to ascertain my whereabouts, I knew he was ready to talk.

"Reggie, are you ready to explain yourself without throwing a tantrum?" I asked him.

He stiffened again slightly but nodded his head. "All right, come here then please." I watched as he drew a deep breath and knew he was steeling himself for what was to come. He turned slowly and shuffled his way over to me, without meeting my eyes. When he got close enough I drew him onto my lap and wrapped my arms around him. Although he didn't relax himself to cuddle into me as was his usual habit when I held him on my lap, he at least wasn't so tense as before. I reached up and gently tugged his lip out from between the teeth that were gnawing it so harshly. "Okay, babe, now will you please explain what this is all about?"

His face scrunched up tightly and tears leaked out of his closed lids, with shuddering breaths he repeated his earlier mantra about being too much trouble, and my being better off without him. I placed a finger across his lips and spoke firmly. "I don't want to hear these words again. I've actually heard quite enough of them this evening. What I do want to hear from you is what brought this on, why you're suddenly feeling like this?"

"I…I know that's what happens…aft…after time with Brats like me. You… you'll just get sick of me and all the trouble I give you." He turned to look at me; his large red rimmed eyes wet with tears, seemed to me to be pleading to be proven wrong. "Everyone gets sick of me and my neediness after a while. First my parents, then my brother, and teachers, it's only a matter of time before you will feel the same way. We'd both be better off if I left now before it gets any harder than it already is."

I wrapped my arms more firmly around him, pulling his body against mine. I kissed his head and whispered gently to him. "Reggie, I love you more than life itself. I would not, could not grow sick of you if we were to live for a thousand years. Now tell me what brought this on."

Reggie's P.O.V.

Why did Eric have to be so nice? Why couldn't he just let me go like I knew he secretly wanted to? I was a loser and a royal pain in the ass, even my father had told me that. Why did I ever think Eric could feel differently? It was so hard to do what I knew I had to do, while I was being held in his arms, while feeling his soft kisses against my head. No! I thought I'm not going to give into him I have to remain strong.

"Eric, please just let me go. You don't have to pretend to want me any more!" I struggled to pull from his arms and got a swat on the butt for my efforts.

"Didn't you hear what I just told you?" Eric asked me, he sounded exasperated. "I don't know what brought this about, young man, but I am determined to put an end to it. Now unless you are prepared to explain this to me immediately, you can go back to that corner and remain there until you are ready to talk."

This was going to be so hard but I knew I had to do it. Not for my sake, but for Eric's. It would be easier for him if I were to leave on my own, than it would be if I were to wait until he was so sick of me he was forced to put me out. Eric was such a nice person that he'd keep me around way beyond the point of wanting me anymore.

Yes, I was going to have to stand strong and break it off now. I drew a breath and turned to meet Eric's beautiful chocolate eyes. Putting on the most calm, cool and collected voice I could manage, I spoke. "Eric, let's be adult about this. We simply are not destined to maintain a long-term relationship and it would be better if we call it quits now before it becomes ugly."

As he looked at me, the blood drained from his face like wine pouring from a broken bottle. His arms where they held me went limp and slid to his sides. I could see he was shocked by the intensity of my words. Trying to maintain my resolve, I pulled myself up from his lap. That beloved warm lap, the lap that I had found myself laying across being castigated for one misdeed or another, the lap that had cradled me after each correction ensuring no pressure was put on the sizzling skin, the lap I straddled the first time we made love. Oh God, how could this be happening? Unwanted tears began to escape my now tightly clenched eyelids as I turned from my Eric and ran blindly towards the door.

I don't suppose I got three feet away when a hand took hold of my biceps and I found myself being firmly steered towards the sofa.

"Reggie, you are not running out on us this easily. If you truly meant the words you just spoke you wouldn't be crying like you are. Now we are going to sit down and discuss this. I love you and I am sure that you love me and we need to figure out what is bothering you so we can fix it. So start talking, young man." Eric said this as he pushed me solidly onto the couch and took a seat right beside me, holding my hands tightly in his.

I opened my tear-filled eyes and looked at his face, the love and comfort I saw there only started me crying again. "I…I don't want us to be over." I sobbed at him. "But I understand now what it's like for you. I'm so demanding and needy you spend so much of your time on me and my problems, you're going to grow weary of the whole thing and I don't blame you."

Eric looked at me very seriously his words were spoken slowly as if trying to communicate with someone who barely spoke English. "Reggie, I am going to ask you one more time to tell me what got this started. What did you hear or read or do or for that matter, what did I do that set this off?"

I gnawed on my lip for a minute before making up my mind to lay out the whole sordid mess for him. "There was this story…on the Internet. I found this new site with DP stories and the stories were pretty good. Except well… I read this one where the Top had gotten sick of being in control, of dealing with his Brat. He talked about how dealing with the Brat's problems all the time had worn him down and that he wanted to put an end to their relationship. And well I…." I hesitated suddenly coming to realize that I was envisioning the end of my relationship over a fictional story I'd read on the net.

"And well you… decided that that story automatically applied to us?" Eric asked rather incredulously.

This set me off crying again. "I'm sorry….I'm sorry Eric. I know I'm a fucked up idiot."

Eric's arms wrapped around me and drew me in close. "How do I feel about you running yourself down like that?" He asked as he laid gentle kisses against my face.

"But I am, Eric. I'm totally fucked up. How can you love someone like me? Don't you see that's why I figured that story to be right? I'm so dumb. I never learn anything. You have to teach me the same things over and over again."

He pulled back from me and holding my by the shoulders, he looked straight into my eyes. "Do you think that I'm stupid?" he asked.

"You? You're the smartest person I know" I responded with horror that he would even ask me such a thing.

"I must be pretty stupid to have picked a totally fucked up idiot as my partner."

How could I answer that? Here was the best man on earth and it looked like I was calling him stupid. "No, Eric, that's not what I meant at all! I only meant that I screw things up so badly and I…."

"That's enough, Reggie!" he spoke firmly putting his fingers to my lips. "I'm not going to listen to you beating yourself up any longer. You need to start listening to me now. When you have a problem, you what are you supposed to do?"

"I'm supposed to share it with you." I whispered.

"And why are you supposed to share your problems with me?" he asked with his infinite patience.

I recited the answer to that question that I knew so well. "Because together we are stronger and can deal with problems as a team."

"Now let me see if I have this straight. You had a problem today with a story that you read. The feelings that story created in you caused you to worry and be upset. Is that correct?" he asked. I could only nod sadly.

"And so you proceeded to work yourself into a lather over this and by the time I came home, you had determined through nothing but your own imagination, that there was no hope for our relationship. Then when I tried to find out the problem you lied to me, pushed me away and when confronted with the reality began to belittle yourself. Am I right?"

I wanted to protest this statement, to tell him he had it all wrong or that he'd simplified a more complex issue, but truth was he had it exactly right. "Yes" I sighed, "you are right." I almost added that I was stupid, but I guess I was smart enough to know better than to belittle myself further. Hell, even idiots like me don't keep up a punishable offence when it's laid in front of us like that.

"Did you save the address for this person's website on your computer?" he asked.

"Yes, she calls herself Cornsilk."

"Okay, when we are done here you will remove this Cornsilk person’s address from your computer and you will never read anything written by her again. Is that understood?" he ordered. I nodded solemnly.

Eric then gave me one of his wonderfully warm hugs and pushed me gently away. Not a person to make more out of something than there needs to be, he proceeded. "Stand up, Reggie."

I cannot say that my brain was what commanded my legs to push me up off the sofa. To be honest, I think my muscles are tied more to Eric's voice than to me, for I found myself standing in front of him with no memory whatsoever of getting up. My trousers were unceremoniously undone and lowered to the floor and I was gently lowered across that beloved lap yet again. My boxers were soon joining my trousers and I felt cool air against my backside. However, that coolness was quickly replaced by the warmth of my lover's large firm hand.

"Why are you being spanked, Reggie?" he asked calmly.

Oh God, how I hated this part; to lay naked and vulnerable across his lap and have to explain my offences. I drew a calming breath and began. "I didn't come to you and share something that was bothering me. I lied to you when you tried to help me."

"And?" Reggie prompted. I shook my head vigorously. "And you spoke disrespectfully about yourself and disrespecting yourself is…?"

"as bad as disrespecting you." I recited.

"Okay, let's get this taken care of."

I felt his hand rise from its resting place on my bottom and the sudden sting of it slapping hard against my cheek. I gasped as a second later it fell on the other side. He kept up his rapid staccato, alternating cheeks as he moved slowly around my entire backside. It took little time for my gasping to turn to sobbing, but he didn't stop there. He continued the painful on-slot until I thought flames would surely rise from my butt. By the time it ended, I was inconsolable. He let me slide gently to my knees beside him and I buried my streaming face in his lap, soaking his cotton chinos with tears. He gently stroked my hair while speaking nonsensical terms of endearment until I calmed enough to catch my breath.

I felt his hands grasp my sides and pull me up to such a position that he could lift me onto his lap, his legs separated enough that my tender skin wouldn't rub against his trousers. I wrapped my arms around his neck and tucked my head under his chin. "I'm sorry, Eric." I sniveled. "So sorry I…."

"Shhhh, baby, it's alright, it's all over." He sat rubbing gentle circles on my back while he kissed the top of my head.

"We're good?" I whispered.

I could hear a slight chuckle as he answered. "We're good, honey. All is fine now."

We sat on the couch cuddled together for about fifteen minutes until I felt him shifting under me. "Hey, babe, time for you to move. My legs are falling asleep." I moved cautiously to my feet. He put his hand gently on my butt as I bent to retrieve my boxers from the floor. "Okay?" he asked as I straightened.

I smiled and nodded. The skin still burned and was beginning to itch as it always does afterwards. But I felt good; loved and cared-for. This wonderful man loved me. I was the luckiest Brat on earth.

"Glad you're feeling okay because we're due at Dan's party in an hour."

I moaned loudly, but smiled. This was security.

The End.