The Madness of Well Disguised Mind

It had been two weeks since they’d found David Worthram’s killer, a local pimp named Greg. The Guv had been right, David Worthram had attempted to rough up his main girl and take her money. The pimp had seen it as simply protecting his business interests. The prostitute was more distraught at his loss than Sam would have expected and in a fit of compassion he’d given her the suggestion of Madame Simone’s as a place to work. From the grapevine he’d heard his suggestion had been well received and now several higher ranking officers were limping slightly and looking pleased after their experiences with Madame Simone’s newest recruit.

"So what do you think she sent?" Sam muttered as he and the Guv looked at the box just delivered by Phyllis. It had been two weeks and Madame Simone had sent a gift to show her appreciation. At least that’s what he could make from the card’s cryptic message. "Thought these might come in handy. Always served me well. Best Regards, Simone?" He repeated again. "What does that mean?"

"Won’t know till we open it now will we Gladys?" The Guv chuckled as he reached for the heavy white box lid. "No logo to tell us where it’s from so no clues there."

Sam stared at the silk scarves draped artfully inside the box. "She wants you to play dress up Guv?" He snickered. "Some nice pearls in there to go along with it?"

"No," The Guv smiled as he stuck his hands inside the box. "I think the scarves are for you. So’s this," he held up a black PVC ball attached to two strings.

"What’s that?" Sam could feel his face blushing. He had a very good idea exactly what it was used for, he hadn’t been a complete hermit in 2006, but he wondered if the Guv had any ideas.

"Ball gag," the Guv snickered. "Shut a mouthy tart like you up for once. Now this," he saw the Guv’s face light up as he reached into the box and began to stroke something in delight. "This is definitely meant for me." Sam tried not to swallow audibly as the Guv brought a long, leather clad riding crop out from inside the box and began to caress it’s length. He tried not to think about what Gene could do with that crop. He didn’t want to think about what type of pain, pleasure a small part of his brain argued, Gene could inflict with that crop. Involuntarily he bit his lip and tried to ignore the Guv’s leer.

"Best put these up for now," the Guv said casually. "What do you think Tyler?"

"Right Guv," he agreed. "Sex toys at work aren’t exactly professional."

"Who said anything about professional?" The Guv snickered. "You look ready to explode right here in my office Tyler and we don’t have the time or the space for me to try these out on you properly here."

Sam tried not to groan as he felt himself stiffen. This wasn’t what he was into. This wasn’t his kink. He’d already tried this before with Maya and it hadn’t been his thing. He’d been lousy as a dominant, too busy worrying about hurting her and apologizing profusely for it. He’d been even worse as a submissive, humiliatingly worse. No matter how much she’d been sympathetic about it he always thought she’d remembered that night. Every man’s worst nightmare come true. The night Sam Tyler failed to get it up. He didn’t want to repeat the humiliation with Gene.

Sam pushed his unease to the back of his mind as he went about working his latest case. When they walked to the Cortina he noticed Gene didn’t have the box with him and relaxed even more, apparently bondage wasn’t Gene’s kink either.

"Pub?" Gene inquired.

"Pub," he’d agreed and let out a sigh of relief. It was Friday, they had the weekend off and he could use a scotch with the Guv before they stopped for a curry.

The next morning Sam was humming blissfully as he scrambled eggs. It was working, a small part of Sam’s brain was worried by that, it never worked out when he lived with someone. He pushed the worry from his mind, it was working with Gene and that’s all that mattered. The kitchen timer dinged and Sam bent over to pull the biscuits he’d made from the oven. A big breakfast, he thought. Just the thing to start Gene’s day out right.

"There you go acting the tart again," Gene growled and Sam stood up suddenly. "Bending over and sticking that tight little arse up in the air."

"What?" Sam stood there dumbly holding the pan of biscuits.

"Gonna have to punish you for that," Gene replied as he brought his right hand out from behind his back and began to slap the tip of the crop against his left hand. "Teasing me with that arse of yours."

Unexpectedly Sam felt himself harden and dropped the pan onto the floor with a dull clatter. "Gene," he whispered. "What are you doing?" This wasn’t his thing, he reminded himself. He didn’t enjoy this. He’d never enjoyed rough sex. You never enjoyed men either, the part of his brain that resided in his cock argued. You’re enjoying that now plenty aren’t you?

"Now you’re throwing my breakfast on the floor?" Gene shook his head and clicked his tongue in mocking regret. "I think that’s earned you a few more lashings."

He wasn’t surprised by the speed with which Gene had him under control. For all his faults Gene was a good police officer, he hadn’t in fact got his DCI badge from a lucky bag, and he was a damn sight bigger than Sam.

Hands handcuffed behind his back and Gene ripping at the buttons of his shirt. Sam felt gentle fingers brush over his nipples and his hips jerked. "Like that do ya?" Gene whispered. "You’re not supposed to like this Sammy it’s a punishment."

"Punish me some more then," Sam retorted between pants. He let out a shriek as Gene’s fingers slid up and pinched his nipples harshly.

"Mouthy in bed just like you are at the station," Gene muttered as he stepped back and reached for something. "Now I know why Simone sent this," he dangled the ball gag in front of Sam. "Say ah."

"Gene," Sam started. "I," he was stopped as the ball pressed down on his tongue and back against the corners of his mouth. Then Gene’s hands were at his hips, jerking at his clothes until they pooled at his ankles.

"Gene," he tried to say around the ball gag. This wasn’t what he was in to, Sam reminded himself. Gagged, shirt open, trousers and pants around his ankles in the kitchen, waiting to be punished for some imagined slight. This wasn’t Sam’s thing and no matter how hard his cock was right now, how tight his balls felt, this wasn’t his thing and it would all fall apart any moment now.

"Over the table," Gene whispered as the crop began to caress the inside of his thighs and moved up to tickle the back of his balls. "Bend over like a good little boy and take your punishment Sammy or I’ll have to just bend you over it myself."

"Gene," he tried again. Instead of listening though his lover just grabbed his hips roughly and pushed him face first onto the kitchen table.

"I told you to be a good boy," Gene warned and Sam felt the first crack of the crop against his bare flesh. He yelped against the ball gag and squirmed. He was waiting for his cock to shrink, to soften, because quite simply pain didn’t arouse Sam Tyler. Instead, each subsequent slap of the crop caused him to writhe against the table as it sent a frisson of pleasure to his cock.

"Don’t you dare come," Gene announced as the crop hit him again. Sam squirmed against the table and waiting eagerly for the next strike. When nothing came he found himself whimpering.

"Eager little slut aren’t you?" Gene chuckled. "Dying for it?"

Sam nodded pitifully between gasps of air around the gag. He was crying from the sting of the crop and the aching stiffness of his cock. He heard the refrigerator door open but didn’t dare look over his shoulder. He sniffled instead and tried to regain control.

Something slick was trailing down the cleft of his arse. Gene’s fingers covered in something slick, not lube but something else, something thinner, teasing around his hole. Slippery fingers pushing inside, scissoring, curling, making Sam wriggle in delight. One finger, two, three and Sam was moaning against the gag. He let out a gasp as the fingers withdrew suddenly. A hand came down firmly on his lower back and kept him pressed to the table. He moaned in delight. Gene was going to fuck him now. Everything was all right. Gene was going to fuck him and he hadn’t gone soft and Sam gasped and jerked at the sudden frozen thing shoved into him.

Ice, he shivered and began to jerk against the hand holding him down. Gene had shoved ice inside of him. All he could do was groan.

"What do you say?" Gene asked.

"Please," Sam forced past the gag. "Please!"

"With pleasure my naughty little boy," Gene agreed and pushed himself into Sam with no warning. He shrieked in pleasure at the feel of Gene’s hot thickness inside of him, pressing the ice cube further inside until it was brushing against his prostate, melting slowly, with every thrust.

It was too much, Sam thought to himself. He was dying. The gag, and the spanking, and the handcuffs, and the ice and Gene fucking him so hard that he could feel the table slamming against the wall with his rhythm. It was just, he let out another scream around the gag as the orgasm raced through him, cramping his legs and curling his toes at it’s strength. He came messily across the table and Gene struck him hard on the arse with the flat of his hand.

"Fucking hell!" Gene roared as he came inside Sam and then collapsed across his back. "Jesus, Sammy boy," Gene panted as he pulled out slowly and began to unlock the cuffs. Once that was done he sat down heavily and maneuvered Sam into his lap.

"I love you," Sam felt suddenly shy admitting it. It wasn’t the first time he and Gene had told each other they were in love. It wasn’t as if Gene didn’t know how he felt but somehow after what they’d just done he felt shy expressing his emotions.

"I love you," Gene agreed as he began to press gentle kisses on Sam’s collarbone and held him close. "Did you like that then?"

"Mmmm," Sam agreed as he snuggled closer. "Didn’t expect to," he admitted. "That was," he stopped and shivered again. "Especially the ice."

"Good," Gene agreed and Sam heard him exhale heavily. "I didn’t expect to like it either but," he hugged Sam tighter against him.

"But?"

"That lovely tight arse of yours bent over the kitchen table," Gene smiled at the thought. "Wait, what’s that smell?"

"I think the eggs burnt," Sam answered as he felt the fine shivers he’d been wracked with starting to subside.

"Get dressed luv," Gene replied as he stood up with Sam cradled in his arms and began to make his way to the bedroom. "You’ve earned breakfast without having to cook it."

"What about me burning the eggs?" Sam whispered as Gene lay him down gently on the bed. "Aren’t you going to punish me for being bad and burning the eggs?"

"You want me too?" Gene asked.

"Maybe later," Sam agreed as he luxuriated for a moment in the bed, their bed. "One question though," he asked as he sat up.

"Hmm?" Gene asked as he began buttoning his shirt.

"What were you using in the kitchen?"

"Oh," Gene smirked. "Thought I’d improvise. That’s what you always tell me to do. So I did."

"What with?" Sam was curious now.

"Butter," Gene answered.

"Butter?" Sam repeated.

"Partially why I’m taking you out for breakfast. We need to stop off at the market and pick up some more butter."

"We had a whole thing," Sam replied. "You used all of it?"

"A good bit," Gene agreed. "The rest got knocked on the floor."

Sam simply stared at Gene as he stood up and made his way to the shower. "I didn’t want to hurt you after all," Gene said defensively as Sam pulled the bathroom door closed.He couldn’t help laughing then. He’d gagged him, handcuffed him, spanked him, fucked him six ways to Sunday but Gene hadn’t wanted to hurt him? He’d always heard love was crazy, now he understood it.