Ricochet (9 page)

widened in surprise.

"Oh shit - you're Alex Tanner!"

"Yup." He'd long ago stopped explaining to

people that he wasn't actually Alex Tanner - he just

played him on TV. "Trust me to end up in this kind

of trouble, huh?" he said, trying to distract her from

her impending punishment.

"Does the chief know you're here?" She

flashed him a knowing grin because Chief Christie

never allowed any of his subs to take public

discipline on the show; he always volunteered to

take it for them if the need ever arose.

"Nah - where is he when you need him, huh?"

Rick grinned back at her.

"He'll be mad when he finds out."

"I won't tell him if you don't!"

"I won't - I promise!" She giggled, and he

laughed, glad that he'd helped take her mind off her

coming ordeal. "I love your show - you're my

favorite character on TV!" she told him. "You

make me laugh so much. I wish I could be as cool

as you!"

"Hey, don't use me as a role model - I ended

up here, didn't I?"

"So did I!" she pointed out, and they both

laughed at that.

"Susan Antonio," the punishment officer

called, and the woman got up, twisting her fingers

in her tissue.

"Chin up, Susan," Rick told her. "It's not so

bad."

She managed a nervous nod and then headed

over to the punishment bench. Rick noticed her

scuffed shoes and the hole in her blouse. She was

skinny, the bones in her shoulders standing out, and

she had the pinched look of someone who didn't

know where the next meal was coming from. Rick

remembered that feeling all too well. Poor Susan

was clearly one of life's unfortunates. He had no

idea what she'd done, but he hated that she'd ended

up here. That had been him once, and he wouldn't

wish it on anyone.

She bent over to take her punishment, and

Rick closed his eyes, unable to watch. He could

feel the palms of his hands starting to sweat, not

because he was nervous, but because he hated this

so much. He rubbed them on his pants, trying to

distract himself.

Susan was a sweet sub - he could tell she was

a sub, and an uncollared one at that - and he felt

sorry for her. Rick loved spanking his subs - he

loved the sensation of pulling them over his knee

and gently warming their asses, and he hated that

the state took something he adored - something so

beautiful and erotic - and turned it into a flat,

humiliating, unpleasant form of discipline.

Susan clearly didn't have a dom to take her

punishment for her, and he hated the idea of her

enduring it. He might not be the kind of dom that

any parent would want for their offspring, but he

always felt a sense of protectiveness towards subs.

He understood Chief Christie's attitude on this

because he shared it. He'd never stand by and let

any sub of his undergo state discipline; he'd

volunteer to take it for them.

Rick mocked himself silently for that thought.

Any sub of his? It wasn't as if he ever had a sub for

more than a night; he always made sure of that.

Susan sobbed throughout her punishment in a

way that made his gut ache. He wondered what on

earth she'd done to end up here. Most people never

earned themselves a judicial punishment in their

entire lives, and she didn't strike him as some kind

of seasoned lawbreaker.

He was glad when it was finally over, and

only then did he open his eyes. He watched as she

grabbed her bag and shuffled away towards the

mainly empty seats. He wondered if she had

friends or family waiting for her there, but she

seemed to be alone. She put her bag down on a

seat, rubbed her eyes with the tissue he'd given

her, and glanced at him. He gave her a little salute

and her face lit up. That made him feel happier;

she might have had a crappy day, but at least she'd

met her favorite TV actor.

His name was called so he got up, went over

to the punishment officer, and handed over his chit.

The guy grinned at him. "Not often we have a

celebrity in here - usually they have their fancy

lawyers get them off."

"Not me. No fancy lawyers. I'll take what's

coming to me," Rick said quietly. He didn't like the

idea of trying to weasel out of it by using an

expensive lawyer. It wasn't as if the Susan

Antonios of this world had that option, after all.

Anyway, it was better to get it over with and move

on.

"Okay then - coat off, pants down, and bend

over." The guy pointed at the punishment bench,

which had been freshly disinfected by a bored

looking official.

Rick was acutely aware as he lowered

himself over it that it was the second time today

that he'd been in this position. He wondered if it

was the worst day of his life, but decided that there

had been too many other really bad days when he

was younger vying for that honor. Besides, he

could walk out of here and go back to his nice

house and live his nice life - that hadn't always

been the case. No, all things considered it was just

a regular kind of crappy day. He'd get through it.

"Looks like you're already been in trouble

once today," the punishment officer said, coming to

stand behind him and looking at the stripe marks

from his earlier punishment.

"Yeah, well, trouble's my middle name," Rick

muttered, bending his head and bracing himself.

The first stroke took his breath away. This

was going to be a lot worse than the licks he'd

taken at work; judicial punishments always were.

In stark contrast to earlier, he didn't play up to

the audience this time. He took each painful lick

without saying a word, just like he had when he

was younger, standing in this same place, mute and

angry, not wanting to give anyone the satisfaction

of seeing him hurt.

At least it was quick. He got up after the sixth

stroke, pulled up his pants over his now very

tender ass, shouldered himself into his coat, and

put his sunglasses back on again for some degree

of privacy. There was a little buzz going around

the hall, and he noticed several people had come

in to watch - mainly staff - so clearly word had got

out that Rick O'Shea from the TV was taking licks

in here today.

Usually, he'd give them their money's worth

and sign autographs and put on a show, but he was

tired, humiliated, and in pain, so he just pulled up

the collar of his leather jacket and headed for the

exit.

As he walked over to the door, he noticed that

Susan was standing watching, her cell phone in her

hand. He hoped she'd called someone to come and

get her. He gave her a little smile and a wave and

then left the building.

He had to go through the long-winded

rigmarole of getting his bike back which cost him a

ridiculous sum of money - and his ass was so sore

that he had to force himself to ride it home. He

could have left it and got a taxi, but he loved his

bike, so he gritted his teeth and bore it.

He was so tired when he got home that he

couldn't be bothered to put the Harley away in the

garage. He just parked it on his drive and slid off

it, wincing and cursing under his breath, and then

he stomped into his house.

He took off his long black leather coat, got

himself a beer from the fridge, and took a few deep

gulps before wandering into the living room and

turning on his giant TV. He'd had it specially

installed, and it took up nearly one wall of his

enormous living room.

He thought about eating and went back to the

fridge, only to find it empty. He usually ate on set

or when he was out clubbing, so all it contained

was a slab of moldy cheese and a six-pack of beer.

He wished he could unwind in a sub's willing

body, but even if that were possible, he was too

tired and sore right now.

He put the beer down on the floor, threw

himself face down onto the sofa, and turned on the

TV.

It really had been a very bad day.

Matt lay on the bed for a long time, gazing

into space. It took him awhile to realize that he

was moping more for the loss of the relationship

he'd wanted it to be than it actually was. He wasn't

sad Emily had gone. He hadn't even liked being

with her very much. He just felt stung that she'd

dumped him when clearly he should have dumped

her, and he wondered why on earth he'd stayed in

such an unsatisfactory relationship for so long.

"Idiot," he berated himself.

Emily hadn't let him come, so he decided it

would be an act of minor triumph over his

departed, unlamented ex-dom to jerk off.

He reached for his laptop, feeling furtive and

naughty, and clicked onto one of his favorite porno

movies about a young sub who goes to a kink

house seeking her ideal dom. The idea of having

anonymous sex with a stranger at a kink house

horrified Matt, but as a fantasy it turned him on,

and he stroked his cock as the sub got undressed

and knelt to meet her master for the night.

Kink houses arranged for two people with

compatible kinks to get together and play; a lot of

the kinks listed on the average kink house website

scared the hell out of Matt, but this movie was

more about domination and submission than any

kind of hard edge-play, and Matt loved that about

it.

The sub was breathlessly in awe of her dom

and the pair had a good chemistry - apparently it

was acted by a real life couple who devised their

own porno movies, and Matt liked how they

played together. The dom wasn't strict and rules-

oriented, but he was very forceful. He swept her

up and overwhelmed her, ignoring her half-hearted

protests and pleas. He was very tender with her

though, even as he dominated her completely, and

Matt liked the contrast.

He watched as the dom placed the girl on her

hands and knees, then wrapped his fist in her hair

and pulled her head back as he entered her from

behind. She squealed and panted, and the dom

slapped her ass.

Keep still while your dom is fucking you," he

growled, but he stroked her calmingly and then

reached under her body and played with her

breasts until she began mewling with pleasure.

Matt stroked his cock harder as the dom

pumped into his helpless sub. He wondered what it

would be like to be held in such a position, head

back, a dom's firm hand wrapped in his hair as he

took him mercilessly… and came over his hand.

"Fuck you, Emily," he snapped when the haze

of his orgasm had passed, but he didn't feel any

sense of victory.

He took a shower, pressing his head against

the wall and letting the water pound onto his

shoulders as he wondered why his relationships

always seemed to end like this. He hadn't had

many relationships, but they usually ended with his

doms dumping him, often to move on to a sub they

said they felt more compatible with. It was the

story of his life.

"Why are none of them compatible with me?"

he asked as he soaped himself. He tried to give

service willingly, to be thoughtful, obedient and to

accommodate all their desires in the bedroom, and

yet he always seemed to fall short in some way he

didn't understand. What was he doing wrong?

He dried himself, pulled on a bathrobe, and

then trudged back into the bedroom and turned on

the TV. He threw himself on the bed and watched

it distractedly, still brooding on his lack of dating

success, when a news item suddenly caught his

attention.

"Oh shit!" Matt rolled off the bed, pulled on

his clothes from his date with Emily, and made a

run for the door without even stopping to think

about it.

Rick was dozing when his cell phone rang.

"Hey, dom-bro!" It was Cilla, one of his dom

friends. "I'm watching the news right now. Shit,