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That was the thing about a man like Noah. Outside the bedroom, and before we’d even had any sort of relationship, I felt as if I could be myself. That was one side of me, of course, the mostly insecure, scatterbrained, trauma survivor, and yet, he didn’t make me feel lesser for those things. Then, becoming his submissive, what an easy transition it was for me. That other side of my life, my brain, my personality, whatever it was, I could feel comfortable with him there, too.
He didn’t make me feel ashamed for my kinks. I was being allowed to be the submissive man that I enjoyed being, to grovel at a man’s feet while still feeling strong and proud while doing it. I felt those things were so easily given to me by him.
Fate, it was fate. How else could anyone have explained how a man could break down in so many definitions of that term, and have a strong, good man find him?
I loved the feeling of my cock in my hand. I mean, who doesn’t like control of their own genitals that way, quickening, slowing down, tightening, like no one else knew their sexual parts like a person did for their own. The topping for me was his eyes on me while doing it.
Kicking one ankle over the other, the clean boot over the still dusty one, placing his hands behind him so he could lean back a little, comfortable, careless, he was sexier in that moment with his hat pushed back enough to see well… damn.
Then there was that bell. It was jingling pretty loudly for how small it was. My hand was moving faster, so it was one long sound of the bell, unbroken as I neared orgasm, and I told my Dom that. “I’m getting close, Daddy.”
“Good boy. When you come, I want it shot on my boot. Not all over the damn cuff, but right on the top of the foot. Can you manage that?”
“Yes, sir. I sure can,” I grunted as I looked down at the boot. He moved it until it was flat again, and I felt my climax barreling through me, so I moved over the boot and aimed.
I had little cum, as we’d fucked so much, my balls had little chance to recharge, but it was enough to lay a nice sheen over the boot, the bells stuttering as my hand slowed.
When I was empty, my hand stopped, but I looked at Noah to see if he was okay with me putting away my cock. He nodded to me and said, “Get your dick in your pants and get on your knees.”
His voice was steady, calm and deep, and it took me in the chest. The dirty, the kink, it was all surrounded with love. That was new for me.
Once I was on my knees, my thoughts left me as I looked into his eyes to wait for my next instructions. He reached over to caress my face, but then got dirty. “My slut boy loves cum, right?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Good. Because what’s on my boot, that’s your fucking lunch. Better enjoy it.”
I could have fallen over from the shock and pure heat that exploded in my body in that second. All my limbs felt numb, and my cock gave such a throb in my jeans that I thought I’d instantly come again.
I sucked in a loud breath that seemed to please him, as a smile bloomed on his perfect lips. I bent down, setting my hands on the concrete floor. The few pieces of hay there under my palms felt like I’d start them on fire with the heat in my body.
I took a long lick in the very center, from the tip of his boot all the way to the cuff, my mouth filling with my sperm. It was so erotic; I couldn’t think straight. All I could do was act, and I finished cleaning his boot quickly, but languished, licking it over and over until he grabbed my hair to pull up my head.
“Good job,” he said and cupped my cheek with his hand. “Give me the bell.”
I took it off my wrist and handed it over to him, then he stood and helped me to my feet.
“I’m going in to eat my lunch now. Go over to that wall,” he said, pointing to the area between the stalls and the more open area where hay was kept. “Stand there, facing that wall, until I come back.” He grabbed me before I could turn and took my face in both his hands. His touch and his words were sweet, his voice loving. “I’m not going to deny you a lot of meals or anything, and I’ll make you a big supper. The thing is, while you’re here, facing that wall, I want you to quiet your mind. Sure, it’s quiet now, when you’re busy, when we’re fucking and playing around, but other times, I still see your face crumble up as you think about certain things. I want you to push out some of those thoughts sometimes. Understand?”
“You’re doing this for a lesson, for my own good. I get it.”
“I hope so. You need to push any thoughts away except one. How can you be a good boy for me? Got that?”
“Got it. I will, I promise.”
“Go now, and I’ll be back soon.”
I turned to the wall, seeing it clearly for the first time. The lines of the wood, the knots in it, they were all so close, but the closer I got, they blurred. Maybe he knew that, or maybe it was by chance, but he was asking me to do the same to my racing thoughts.
Some lines would always be clear and take my focus, but he wanted those lines to be him, be the ranch, the work and the play. He didn’t want those lines to be the bad things in my past.
Having ADHD was a trip. Until I learned that was what I had, I just thought it was normal, having thoughts constantly swirling and changing in my head. I could go from thinking about the cereal I was eating on a given morning, and in seconds be considering the state of the world’s food shortages. Then, from there, I could think about dictators, about armies, then it would go into my own memories of being in battles, of laughing with my friends in the barracks during basic, and on and on until I was shaking from seeing those friends, their faces and bodies riddled with holes, blood.
Right then, however, like Noah had asked of me, I felt those thoughts trying to invade. When things were quiet, my mind produced its own sort of noise, and as much as I loved the quiet, I hated it as much because of that.
Back at Harvey’s, I’d kept music or television on all the time to distract myself from my own thoughts. There, in that barn, was no music. The wind blew gently through the eaves of the barn. A bird was chirping outside, and I heard the horses snorting and moving some, but other than that, it was quiet.
I got nervous, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, running a hand through my hair, and that made me lose my hair tie. I stooped to pick it up and slapped it against my other hand to shake off the dust from the hay.
