Chapter 5

He was practically vibrating as he waited on the steps for me to open the front door. I'd sensed his excitement the moment I'd picked him up from work. He'd walked out with his small knapsack, which I assumed was packed with a change of clothes and whatever other necessity he thought he needed for the night at my place. His eagerness had been clear on his face since the moment he walked through those doors and had seemed to grow when he'd opened the passenger door of my car and got in.

I thought of the tentative smile that had graced his face as we'd exchanged greetings and the irrational blush that had slashed across his cheeks when I'd told him to put on his seatbelt.

He was an enigma; this beautiful boy standing behind me and I couldn't help the feeling of excitement that spread through me at the thought of discovering everything about him that made him so irresistible.

"Are you hungry?" I asked as I pushed the door open and he followed close behind me into the warmth of the house.

"No sir." He said quickly and I decided to rephrase.

"Have you eaten?" I turned to look at him and he nodded.

"Yes sir."

"You can just drop your bag anywhere." I told him and didn't miss his quick glance up the stairs as he followed me across the way and into the family room, where he deposited his bag unto the chair.

"I thought I'd give you a quick tour of the place since you're going to be here pretty often." I told him and he glanced around the room with large eyes that seemed to take everything in with one glance.

"You're free to use anything here, no room is off-limits. Can you swim?" I asked him and he nodded again; that was something we'd have to work on.

"There's a pool out back that you're welcome to use whenever you're in the mood." I told him, and for a moment, he looked at me as if I'd hung the moon. I lead him down a wide passageway, and as he'd been doing since the moment we exited the car, he walked close behind me.

"This is the library." I said as we walked through the double doors leading into a relatively large room with high ceilings and one set of floor-to-ceiling windows on one wall. The word library was definitely being used loosely here since this room with the few shelves stacked with my favorite books and a solitary sofa against a wall could hardly be considered much of a library. Had I called it such a thing in the presence of my brother-the-scholar, he'd have laughed me to scorn, but as with everything else, Cam regarded the room with awe.

"Did you read all of these books?" he surprised me by speaking and I smiled.

"Yes. It's a hobby of mine." I told him.

"I like art." He offered shyly and when I grinned, he looked away.

"Wat kind of art?" I asked and he shrugged.

"All kinds."

I lead him through another set of double doors that led to my study. The room was a fair size. It held a too-large mahogany desk, books that meant nothing to me but were stacked on the shelves because my brother had been the one to design the space, and an expensive, oversized swivel chair that I hated.

The floor was carpeted in deep burgundy and the tall curtains were an emerald green which, according to my brother; went well with the carpets.

"This is the study." I told Cam who was busy running his fingers across the smooth surface of the desk.

"It's cozy in here." He said, and I looked around the space, trying to see it through his eyes.

"I guess it is. My brother uses it more than I do." I told him and he looked at me with interest.

"You have a brother?"

I nodded. "My twin." I said. "He comes here to work sometimes...a lot of the time actually. "He's a university professor...History." I specified, and Cam nodded again.

"He must be really smart."

"He is." I said and he smiled.

"How come he doesn't have his own study?" he questioned me further and I found that I liked when he expressed himself.

"He does." I paused to look around the space that housed all his research and loose papers, books and even a pair of his boots that had been kicked halfway under the desk. "He just won't leave me alone." I finished with a shake of my head, and Cam trailed after me as I made my exit out of that room, back through the library and into the passageway.

I noticed that as we walked, he ran his hand along the walls. In fact, he touched everything. It was as if he were trying to understand the texture of everything he was seeing; like a child.

It was that though that stopped me in my tracks and as I turned slowly to look at him, I wondered why it had never occurred to me before I had stuffed my dick into his hole.

He stopped; watching me with wide eyes as I regarded him with my narrowed ones.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty." He said and when I only stood staring at his expression, searching for a single hint that he was lying, he folded his arms across his chest and pouted. " I'll be twenty in two months." He said and I released the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

He was far enough past his eighteenth birthday that the horrible fear that I'd buggered a child faded into nothingness and I turned and continued on my way.

"You don't lie to me. Do you understand?" I asked as we walked and I heard his quiet 'yes sir' as I opened a door opposite the second entrance to the dining room.

"This is a guest bedroom. It's the only bedroom downstairs." I explained when he was standing in the center of the room.

"I like the color." He confessed.

My best friend's husband called it The Blue Room. Not the most creative name really, but with the blue curtains, blue wall paint, blue rug and blue and white bedsheets, no other title would truly do it justice.

"My brother designed it." I told him "It's his favorite color."

That, and he had a passion for interior design. I suppose you could say he wasn't the stereotypical history professor.

"I like the chair." Cam commented.

So did my brother, who claimed the bright yellow chair in a room of blue gave the place character. To me it just looked out of place.

Afterwards I showed him the kitchen and dining room, which he'd already seen, then I took him upstairs and introduced him to all the bedrooms, bathrooms and another study that I actually used from time to time.

I ended the tour right back where we'd started; in the family room and I invited him to sit, before I took a chair directly in front of him. While we'd toured the house, he'd been more free and open; still shy, but less fidgety, and now that we sat face to face, he was flushed red and clearly nervous.

I smiled to calm his nerves and it only seemed to make him fidget more.

"I said I would train you and I will." I began "but before we can get into anything, you need to understand a few basic rules."

He nodded.

"Starting with that." I gestured to him. "You never respond to your dom with a shake or nod. It's yes sir, no sir, or whatever it is that he asks you to respond to him with. I like sir and while we play, that's how you refer to me, do you understand."

"Yes sir." He blushed.

"Outside of all that, you can call me Damion. My friends call me Tazzo, so whichever one works for you."

"You can call me Cam." He said "Or whatever you want." He was quick to add and I nodded.

There were different types of BDSM relationships. There were some pairs who turned it into a lifestyle; where they were dom and sub all the time and they liked it that way. Then there were others, who chose to keep that side of them somewhat separated from everyday life. I found that I preferred the latter.

I'd never had any interest in taking a scene outside of intimacy. I'd never been enticed by the thought of controlling the everyday aspects of a person's life. I didn't want to tell a grown man how to dress and when to cut his hair, or order him to cook my dinner. Outside of the scene I wanted to be called by my name. I wanted to share a beer with someone I could speak to on equal terms, and sit down and watch a movie with a guy who wasn't afraid to call my bullshit.

For me, dominance and submission, while it was an important part of my life, it was still just a kink, but as I grew to understand Cam, and the more I observed him, it was clear to see that for him, it was more than that. His need went beyond the bedroom. He needed someone to belong to all the time and as I watched him watching me, I decided that when his training was over, I'd help him find that person.

"Rule number two; honesty." I said seriously. "If a person can't be honest with me do you know what it tells me?"

He began to shake his head then stopped. "No sir."

"It tells me they don't respect me," I told him. "And I won't train someone who doesn't respect me."

"I respect you."

"Which is good to know because something that's deeply tied to honesty for me is your safe word."

"Okay..." he began in obvious confusion.

"If your dom is doing something that you're not comfortable with, you need to use your safe word. When you don't use your safe word at a time when you know you should, then you're not honest with your dom." He looked away when I tried to meet his eyes.

"I want you to list all the things you're not comfortable with. Tell me what you don't like."

Cam's eyes grew wide and his expression was one of worry. "I can do anything." He said earnestly. "I can take it."

"I didn't ask if you could do it Cam, I asked you what you don't like. I want to know your limits."

"I don't have limits." He said softly and it was clear he believed it.

"Alright, just tell me what you don't like." I said, and before he could open his mouth to continue, I spoke again. "I don't want my sub doing something he doesn't like just because he knows I like it. That's not honest and I won't put up with it."

It took him two minutes of looking down at his hands in silence before he was ready to tell me, and as he spoke, he was hesitant and fearful. "I don't like to bleed." He told me and I nodded in encouragement.

"I like pain, but...but I don't like when it hurts so much that I can't move." His eyes darted to mine and back to his hands, which were clasped tight in his lap.

"Go on."

"I don't like scars and the ball and chain thing."

I nodded.

"And putting stuff in my dick."

Sounding.

"And breathplay."

"Anything else?"

He seemed to think about it for a minute. "I don't think so." He said and I nodded.

"If there's anything you're not comfortable with from here on out, you'll tell me." It wasn't a request and he understood that.

I leaned back in my chair and crossed my legs at the ankles as I watched him. Three nights I'd known him, and I'd already learned so much. What I'd learned tonight; which was something I'd suspected from the very first night I'd lain with him, was that what he craved wasn't necessarily what most people in the scene craved.

Sure being whipped turned him on. Sure he like the rush that a riding crop or a flagger could give him and a little sting here and there, but what he craved was the loving, and the need to be controlled. Cam wanted to be protected and wrapped in a cocoon. He wanted to know he belonged to someone and he was as sensitive as a dick after sex. He wouldn't be able to handle the doms that cussed at him when he messed up or roughed him up when he didn't do what he was supposed to. He needed someone who could lead him with a firm hand, but speak to him in gentle tones.

I shook my head. I'd trained my fair share of them, but this one took the cake. I didn't like seeing a sub hurt, but none of the ones I'd ever trained would tell you I was what Cam was looking for.

I wasn't afraid to admit that I could be rough. I liked a sub who listened. I never punished one so he could smile right after and tell me he'd enjoyed it and I didn't give second chances. You fucked up, I called you out on it. You fucked up bad, and that was it. It was just the way I was and I never had any reason to apologize for it, so it was a bit discomfiting to me now to be dealing with a pure sub like Cam, knowing that if he fucked up bad, I'd give him another chance, and when he looked up at me just then, with his big, needy eyes, I knew I'd give him all the chances in the world.

"Are you sure you want me to train you?" I asked, giving him a way out , but he nodded.

"Yes sir."

I stood. "Alright, you see that spot?" I pointed to the center of the room and his eyes followed.

"Yes sir."

I took a cushion from the chair, walked over to the spot and dropped it unto the floor. "I want you to strip and kneel right here." I told him.

I watched him rise from the seat and as he pulled the hem of his shirt up and over his head, there was not even an ounce of hesitation.

Good boy.

                                                                         AUTHOR'S NOTES

THANKS FOR READING!

ENJOY.

-DoUbLe.A

-unedited.