“I’m Brandon.”
“So what have you seen so far?” Joshua was quick to start a friendly conversation with Brandon, and I was pleased to see that Brandon hadn’t shied away from him.
As they carried on a conversation of back and forth questions, I realized that if the need ever arose where I absolutely had to be at work and was concerned to leave Brandon alone, that I could have Joshua spend the day with him.
“What do you have going on tonight, Joshua?” I inquired. Alison and Joshua were here tonight because I asked them to be, and both of them knew that I would not be available to assist them with arranging a session. Alison was helping at the front desk, but I was interested in what Joshua had planned.
“I’m meeting Andrew in the lobby soon. Then we’re going to go grab dinner,” he explained.
“Ah, please give my best to Andrew,” I said. Andrew would be another person who would be good for Brandon to be around as well.
Joshua nodded, then said goodnight to us as he made his way to the lobby. I continued my tour with Brandon, and after we walked through the locker room, I took him down one of the hallways that had rooms on either side. Thankfully, there were only some mild sessions going on, but we stopped to watch a spanking session.
I kept my attention and focus on Brandon as he watched the session in the room in front of us. His lips were parted slightly and every few moments his tongue would glide along his bottom lip. His eyes were glued to the club members naughty little session. Brandon’s hand fidgeted by his side some, and then he slowly reached to the fly of his jeans and adjusted himself. This was the first time I had seen a sexual gesture from Brandon, and it was so difficult for me to pry my eyes off of him. By the time we walked away from the doorway, he had adjusted himself three times.You’re going to love it here, pup.
For the first time, Brandon was chatty as we left the club and on the drive home. He was full of questions, comments, and observations. What I loved the most was his enthusiasm, interest, and the trust that he put in my hands.
When we got home, he spoke energetically about the club as he changed into a fresh pair of light gray boxer briefs and pulled on a white t-shirt. We didn’t deviate from our routine; he got into bed, and I took the seat in the oversized gray twill chair in his room. I loved listening to him talk because after being held captive for so long, it was healthy for him to talk about anything and not fear consequences. As his comments or questions grew further apart and his yawns became more frequent, I knew that he was winding down.
“Thank you, James,” he murmured and then paused to yawn. His eyes were already closed, and he was curling up into the ball that he always ended up in. In a sleepy tone, he finished his thoughts, “For bringing me home.”
I winced as he said that. I was completely caught off guard and didn’t know what to say. Here I thought he was thanking me for taking him to Club Oxygen, but really, he was thanking me for not leaving him.
“Ohana, pup,” I whispered.
“Ohana, James,” he mumbled.
I watched him drift off to sleep with the red threaded necklace still proudly around his neck. He hadn’t wanted to take it off when we left. I thought it gave him a sense of security. It was his proof that he was, in fact, under my protection. It told him that he was wanted and belonged to someone who would look out for him. The necklace was something tangible that he could see and touch and therefore believed in.
I woke up hours later in my bed to a thunderstorm that had popped up. Rain hammered against the window, and my room lit up like a baseball field from stadium lights. It was during one of those flashes of lightning that lasted a few seconds that I saw a silhouette of Brandon. He stood at the side of the bed with his back to the window, and his hands covered his ears. Quickly, I began to sit up.
“’M sorry,” he mumbled, his voice shaking. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Can I stay here?” he asked with his knee already on the bed. “I … hate the rain.”
“Of course, Brandon.”
Just as he started to climb onto the empty, cold side of the bed, I stopped him and told him to walk around to the other side. As he did, I moved to the center of the bed, leaving the warm place I had been on for him. Chances were that he’d lay with his back to me, curled up, and I didn’t want him facing my window for the fear and memories of his past to claim him. While the storm outside continued to light up the room and throw shadows of him on the wall, he stood by my side of the bed confused. In a welcoming gesture, I patted the sheet where I had just moved from.
“Come on, pup. It’s nice and warm here.”
“I can lay on your side of the bed?”
“Yes, come on.” I patted the bed again and fluffed the pillow for him.
As expected, he crawled right into bed with his back facing me and the window behind him. He curled up in a ball and thanked me for letting him stay in here. I pulled the blanket up over his shoulders to ensure that he was comfortable and warm. Although I knew that he was already feeling more secure, he still fidgeted with a hand around his midsection. He hadn’t brought in his blanket bear and was trying to clutch onto something.
“Would you like me to go get your blanket bear?”
“No, don’t leave, please,” he said, sounding as though he were on the verge of panicking.
“I won’t leave, Brandon.”
I moved a little closer to him and rubbed his back, hoping it would calm him down. While the storm raged on outside, I laid wide awake and concentrated on my pup. Brandon quivered, but I didn’t think he was afraid of me. I had a pretty good idea that he had worked himself up over the storm and hearing the water hit the window, and he was shivering from that.
Since Brandon has been here with me, I had read up on more articles and studies regarding waterboarding and its effects on strong-minded and otherwise mentally healthy soldiers. The effects could be very damaging. There weren’t many articles, none in fact, on the effects of waterboarding on a teenager, let alone one that had held against his will in a kink house. I was going to need a road map for helping him overcome this.
As his quaking continued, I chastised myself for not pulling him close into my arms sooner. I hadn’t wanted to scare him or make him feel uncomfortable, but I couldn’t lay this close to him and not be against him. I put my hand flat on the bed on the other side of him and put my weight on that hand while I moved my body closer. My bare chest pressed against his thin white undershirt. I tried to angle my waist so that it wasn’t pressing against him, because I didn’t want to scare him when I got hard. And it wasn’t a matter ofifI got hard. I knew my body well enough at this point. It was only a matter ofwhen.
I wanted to comfort him.
