Belonging (Prologue)
Summary: There is owning, serving, submitting, dominating. And then, there is belonging.
Inspired by Keira Marcos' Everything, but NOT a part of her universe.
Matt can only dimly remember his first foster home. It was dark, overcrowded, and the house’s Dom was large and intimidating. There was a cross in the living room meant for punishments, but sometimes the Dom would tie them to it and cane them for no reason other than he liked the way they cried. Children weren’t supposed to witness exhibitions, but he had three Subs he liked to string up and play with while the kids all watched.
Not long after Matt is placed there, the Dom got carried away with one of his “punishments” and a little girl died. The kids were all moved to other homes and the Dom was recalled to his Pleasure House, where he was executed. Matt watched it on the news at his new home, while the Domme of his new house stroked his hair and told him justice had been dealt for his foster sister.
Her name had been Danielle, Matt remembered. He couldn’t tell you anyone else’s name from that time, but hers had been Danielle.
Matt’s second home was nicer than the first, not so overrun and filled with light. There was a cross there, too. Matt shied away from it and didn’t like being in the same room as it, even. It was rarely used, though, and Matt was never spread across it in the years he stayed there.
Foster placements aren’t permanent and kids learn not to get attached. Matt loses count of the homes he stays in; the older he gets the faster they move him from place, to place, to place, to place. Some are nice, some worse than others. Some are living nightmares.
Matt hates the cross, fears it like nothing else.
Matt is twelve, just beginning to grow pubic hair and having to endure terribly embarrassing lectures at school about the changes his body is going through and how to recognize his dynamic. The home he’s in is one of the nicer ones; his foster parents are nice. The Dom is gentler than the other ones Matt has stayed with, with training from Lleu. His mark is something beautiful against his skin, not frightening like the angry lines that covered the neck and shoulders of the Dom in his first home.
He knows that he’s done something wrong. He cheated on an exam and the principal could punish him before the entire school, but his foster parents take him home instead. The Dom -Michael- secures Matt to the cross.
“I’m sorry. I know you don’t like this.”
“I cheated.”
“It’s better done at home.” Michael says. “Five strokes, count them for me.”
Matt hasn’t been punished in years; he’s quiet, he sticks to himself, and he’s careful especially around Doms. The first hit, not nearly as hard as Matt was expecting, connects with his upper shoulder and Matt jerks. The pain is there -real, biting -but there’s something else. It’s strange and confusing and Matt doesn’t understand at all until the third hit and he feels himself get hard.
It’s been happening, off and on but with no real rhyme or reason but never like this. Matt stiffens and Michael notices the change in him immediately, hand snapping out to test the pulse at Matt’s neck. He scans Matt quickly, eyes softening when he realizes the problem.
He’s gentle, pulling Matt from the cross without finishing the punishment. He stays far enough away, keeps his body away from Matt’s that no embarrassment can grow further between them. It’s already humiliating for Matt and he doesn’t want it, doesn’t want what it means.
Michael doesn’t push him. He lets Matt hide in his bedroom and leaves books in the hall for him to read instead. Michael’s sub, Karen, joins him in his room on the third day.
“You don’t need to be afraid.” She tells him. “Not all Doms are like your first foster father. Most are not.”
“Can’t I just. Can’t I just be one? I can choose that right?”
“No, Mattie. You don’t get to choose who you are. No one does. It’s just a part of you, like having a good heart.”
“I’m not afraid of Michael.”
“He would never want you to be.”
It’s true; Michael doesn’t frighten Matt. Dommes don’t either, but most Doms do. They’re large and intimidating and they remind Matt of his first home, of Danielle’s killer. That is what Doms are capable of, all doms: killing you while you’re tied up and helpless.
It is a terrifying thought that, one day, one of them will own him.
Inspired by Keira Marcos' Everything, but NOT a part of her universe.
Matt can only dimly remember his first foster home. It was dark, overcrowded, and the house’s Dom was large and intimidating. There was a cross in the living room meant for punishments, but sometimes the Dom would tie them to it and cane them for no reason other than he liked the way they cried. Children weren’t supposed to witness exhibitions, but he had three Subs he liked to string up and play with while the kids all watched.
Not long after Matt is placed there, the Dom got carried away with one of his “punishments” and a little girl died. The kids were all moved to other homes and the Dom was recalled to his Pleasure House, where he was executed. Matt watched it on the news at his new home, while the Domme of his new house stroked his hair and told him justice had been dealt for his foster sister.
Her name had been Danielle, Matt remembered. He couldn’t tell you anyone else’s name from that time, but hers had been Danielle.
Matt’s second home was nicer than the first, not so overrun and filled with light. There was a cross there, too. Matt shied away from it and didn’t like being in the same room as it, even. It was rarely used, though, and Matt was never spread across it in the years he stayed there.
Foster placements aren’t permanent and kids learn not to get attached. Matt loses count of the homes he stays in; the older he gets the faster they move him from place, to place, to place, to place. Some are nice, some worse than others. Some are living nightmares.
Matt hates the cross, fears it like nothing else.
Matt is twelve, just beginning to grow pubic hair and having to endure terribly embarrassing lectures at school about the changes his body is going through and how to recognize his dynamic. The home he’s in is one of the nicer ones; his foster parents are nice. The Dom is gentler than the other ones Matt has stayed with, with training from Lleu. His mark is something beautiful against his skin, not frightening like the angry lines that covered the neck and shoulders of the Dom in his first home.
He knows that he’s done something wrong. He cheated on an exam and the principal could punish him before the entire school, but his foster parents take him home instead. The Dom -Michael- secures Matt to the cross.
“I’m sorry. I know you don’t like this.”
“I cheated.”
“It’s better done at home.” Michael says. “Five strokes, count them for me.”
Matt hasn’t been punished in years; he’s quiet, he sticks to himself, and he’s careful especially around Doms. The first hit, not nearly as hard as Matt was expecting, connects with his upper shoulder and Matt jerks. The pain is there -real, biting -but there’s something else. It’s strange and confusing and Matt doesn’t understand at all until the third hit and he feels himself get hard.
It’s been happening, off and on but with no real rhyme or reason but never like this. Matt stiffens and Michael notices the change in him immediately, hand snapping out to test the pulse at Matt’s neck. He scans Matt quickly, eyes softening when he realizes the problem.
He’s gentle, pulling Matt from the cross without finishing the punishment. He stays far enough away, keeps his body away from Matt’s that no embarrassment can grow further between them. It’s already humiliating for Matt and he doesn’t want it, doesn’t want what it means.
Michael doesn’t push him. He lets Matt hide in his bedroom and leaves books in the hall for him to read instead. Michael’s sub, Karen, joins him in his room on the third day.
“You don’t need to be afraid.” She tells him. “Not all Doms are like your first foster father. Most are not.”
“Can’t I just. Can’t I just be one? I can choose that right?”
“No, Mattie. You don’t get to choose who you are. No one does. It’s just a part of you, like having a good heart.”
“I’m not afraid of Michael.”
“He would never want you to be.”
It’s true; Michael doesn’t frighten Matt. Dommes don’t either, but most Doms do. They’re large and intimidating and they remind Matt of his first home, of Danielle’s killer. That is what Doms are capable of, all doms: killing you while you’re tied up and helpless.
It is a terrifying thought that, one day, one of them will own him.