Frustration

 I carefully pull my pants back up over my burning asscheeks. Ivar gives me one last intense look before stepping out of the way. My legs feel unsteady as I leave the room. The hallway seems longer than usual, with every step my sensitive buttocks rubbing against the fabric of my pants. Every step a reminder of Ivar's punishment. My head feels strangely empty, as if the tension has finally found a way out.

My ass is still on fire when I close the door to my room behind me. I sigh deeply and lean against it for a moment, my forehead resting against the wood. My breathing is back to normal, my head feels... clear. No more swirling anger, no suffocating frustration. Just a dull, burning warmth in my body and clarity.

Ivar was right. I know that. Fuck!

I move toward the bed and slowly lower myself onto the edge. The first touch of the mattress against my buttocks makes me inhale sharply. Wodan, fuck me. Meticulously, I pull my pants down over my burning buttocks. My fingers automatically rush to my ass, feeling the hot, tender skin. Ivar has literally left his mark on my flesh.

I curse softly and lean back, my eyes fixed on the ceiling. My body tingles, but not just from the pain. The tension that had built up all evening still lingers within me. My cock is still painfully hard, no one left to call me out on my stubbornness. But there’s also no one left to stop me from giving myself what I’ve been needing for hours.

My hand slides down. My breathing deepens 

Milan starved me. But in my head, I don't have to.

In my head, the Dominant I truly crave is already there. And he never keeps me waiting.

He is calm. Always. Not because he is insensitive, but because he understands me through and through. He doesn't have to shout or threaten. He knows what I need before I even realize it myself.

His voice is low, warm, controlled. No hurry. No doubt.

“Slut.”

My back arches slightly at the word. I feel his hand in my hair, the subtle pressure that lets me know I'm exactly where I belong.

“You know what I want, don't you?”

I nod, swallow, my lips half open.

“Say it. 

My hand moves more slowly over my stiff cock. My muscles tense under my own touch.  In my head, I'm not a boy who struggles. Not a boy who fights his own desires.  I am obedient. I am willing. I am his.

His grip in my hair tightens with command. My head feels light. My lips open wider, my breathing becomes irregular.

“What are you, boy?" 

My stomach tightens. I'm so close. My muscles twitch. My hand moves faster. My thoughts, my body, my entire being screams for recognition. And in my head, in the world where there is no shame, I whisper softly:

“I'm your slut.”

My orgasm rips through me. I arch my back, my whole body tense as warm semen splatters across my stomach and chest. My ass tightens, sensitive and still raw from the punishment Ivar gave me.

My fingers continue to move for a moment, slowly, relishing the tremors that run through my body. My head feels empty. Lighter than it has in ages.  My eyes open slowly. I'm panting. The ceiling above me seems blurry.

Slowly, I move my hand to the side of my bed, reaching for a towel to wipe myself clean. Reality creeps back in.

I repeat the words I just whispered in my head. Now out loud.

“I'm your slut.”

This time there is no disgust, no shame. 

------ 

My ass is still on fire when I wake up. Donar, Ivar! You could have made your point a little less forcefully. But I must admit that I feel a lot better than last night. It was intense, exciting, until it became a lot less fun.

I put on some underwear, grab a towel, and walk to the communal shower room. It's busier than I would like. Dorian's body is glistening with water. By Balder, he knows all too well what his looks do. Ivar is also in the shower. And honestly, that’s not exactly a punishment to look at either.

For a moment, I consider just getting in the shower with my underwear on. But no, that’s not an option, I'll have to go in bare-assed. There's no turning back. With a jerk, I pull down my shorts and step out. Now all the guys can see Ivar's handiwork.

I take a deep breath. With my head held high, I step into the shower as confidently as I can. My cock’s hanging half-hard between my legs, treacherous proof that my body is confusing this embarrassment with excitement. 

Whistling. Dorian, of course. “Dude! Looks like someone thought you were being very naughty. Nice work on your butt.”

Ivar's gaze is almost apologetic. Mine is deadly. But not for him. Dorian looks back defiantly. “Hey, man, no problem. It's nice, isn't it, a red ass like that?”

“Dorian, don't you have anything better to do than stare at my ass?” 

“I'm just admiring the nicely done paintwork,” Dorian says with a fake grin on his pretty face.

“Dorian, leave that boy alone!” Ivar's voice rings out sternly through the shower room.

Dorian only lets out an indignant “Tsssk,” but keeps his mouth shut. It's bizarre how much authority a submissive like Ivar has. Even over the young Dominant boys. Ivar, submissive? Yeah, sure. My ass has a very different story to tell.

When I get back to the hallway, Ivar is standing there. Waiting for me. “Hey Jelte, I didn't want it to turn out like that. Dorian can be a real asshole.”

“It's okay, Ivar,” I mumble softly.

“Are you okay now?” Ivar sounds concerned. 

“Yeah, sure,” I say, rubbing my backside demonstratively. “But you could have made your point a little more subtly.”

Ivar laughs. “Then I never would’ve gotten through to you.”

I open my mouth to say something sharp in return, but all that comes out is an unintelligible grunt.

“In any case, you'll be repeatedly reminded of my wise counsel in the coming days. Every time you sit down.” He punches me on the upper arm and walks away. Then he looks back, winks, and says the word that throws me completely off balance: “Slut.”

Fuck!

------

I have to be at some etiquette class for submissive boys in fifteen minutes. Screw it! Forget it! I'm not doing this anymore. What's the point of all this? I haven't heard from Milan either. He could’ve at least sent me a message. A text or something. How hard is that, for Donar’s sake?

It was such a fantastic day. Milan was all mine... and then that. He just left me hanging. He left me stewing in my own need. What am I to him? His boy-slut of the day? And then Ivar's heavy-handed approach. Wodan be damned! He treated me like I was some annoying brat who needed to be taught a lesson. It's not fair!

There's a knock on the door. “Yes?”

“Haukon." 

Fuck!  “Come in,” I say reluctantly. “I'm not going to that fucking etiquette class.”

Haukon says nothing and sits down next to me. “I just wanted to check how you were doing.”

“Fine.” I look away from Haukon.

Haukon is silent. I start to feel uncomfortable. Haukon doesn't seem bothered by anything. 

“I talked to Ivar,” he says after a long silence. “He said you needed to let off some steam.”

Shit! What did that bastard tell him?

Haukon smiles slightly, as if he knows this all too well. “It happens,” he continues calmly. “You don't have to feel bad about it.”

“I don't.”

Haukon doesn't answer me right away. His gaze remains fixed on me until he finally nods simply. “Listen,” he says, moving a little closer to me. “You're not alone here, Jelte. You don't have to be.”

“I... I just don't really know what I'm doing here.”

“That's okay,” Haukon says simply. “You don't have to right now.”

“I don't want to push you into anything,” Haukon continues. “But I do want you to know that you have someone to lean on. Me, if you need to.”

Sure, he's my mentor. I don't need a lecture.

Contrary to my expectations, he stands up and slowly stretches. “I'll leave you alone,” he says. “You need some rest. Forget about the lessons for today. But...” He pauses and looks at me intently for a moment. “If you need to get something off your chest... anger, frustration, questions... my door is open. Always.”

He turns around and walks to the door. At the last moment, he looks over his shoulder.

“And Jelte?”

I look at him.

“It'll be okay,” Haukon says simply and without hesitation. Then he's gone. The room doesn't feel as suffocating as it did before.

Damn.

------ 

I let myself fall back onto the bed. The frustration is still coursing through my body. A mixture of anger, confusion, and a far too intrusive memory of Milan. Why can't I get him out of my head?

There's a knock on the door. 

Again?

“Hey, dude! Open up, it's me.”

Rik? 

I open the door and sure enough, there's Rik, hands in his pockets, with that cheerful, relaxed look on his face. “Haukon said you didn't feel like class today, he thought you might need some distraction.”

“Oh, really?”

Rik smiles and holds up a game console. “I thought we could race. You'll lose to me anyway, but at least you can try.”

I feel a smile coming on. “Come on in, dude.”

We've been playing for an hour, but that kid keeps beating me. “NOOOOO!” Frustrated, I throw the controller away. “How the fuck do you win every time?”

Rik laughs. “Talent, boy. Talent.”

I pick up the controller again. I realize I’m actually relaxing. No Milan. No Ivar. No etiquette bullshit. Just a friend and a stupid video game.

Rik leans back against the wall and looks at me with a sly smile. “So... tell me.”

“What?”

Rik looks mischievous. “The Leather Inn, dude.”

No, not now, Rik!  

I clench the controller. “What do you mean?”

Rik gives me a classic ‘spill it already’ face. “Come on. I hear things. You've been hanging out with Milan, right?”

 “Uh... maybe.”

Rik's eyes light up. “Oh-ho-ho... and?”

Maybe it's the relaxed atmosphere. Rik is a good friend, so spontaneous, so safe. Whatever it is, I blurt it out, “I sucked his cock.”

Rik's mouth drops open. “You. Did. Milan. His. Cock?”

Why did I tell him this?  I feel despair, but strangely pride as well. 

Rik looks at me as if I've just won the Olympics. “Dude! I mean... how was it? What did he do? Did he go completely crazy or did he stay cool? Fuck, I can't imagine Milan ever losing his cool.”

I pull my knees up, my hands still on the controller. “He was... just Milan.”

Rik nods as if that's the most logical explanation. “So fucking smarmy Dominant and annoyingly perfect?”

I have to laugh. “Something like that.”

Rik claps his hands. “I'm just happy for you, man! I mean, come on... Milan. That's literally the pinnacle of a Dominant guy.” He shakes his head, grinning. “You actually did him.”

I feel relieved.  Yes, I did.

Milan was there. He chose me. I tasted him, smelled him, experienced his Dominance firsthand. It was real. I feel better.  But soon the next realization hits me. Milan isn't here. He just left me simmering in my own unfulfilled lust and hasn't been in touch since.

But I don't want to ruin this nice atmosphere. I don't want Rik to notice that Milan is still on my mind, like an unsolved mystery.

Rik seems to notice my sudden silence. He looks at me for a moment, but says nothing. Not yet. 

Only when we start the next race does he say casually: “You know he hasn't forgotten you, right?”

I try to keep my eyes on the screen. “What?”

Rik grins. “Milan. He's not the type to just take something and move on to the next thing.”

Rik looks away and pulls a face, pushing his shoulder against mine.

“Listen, dude,” he says, with that smug little smile of his, “you had that huge dick in your mouth. Do you really think he's just going to forget about that?” 

My fingers tighten around the controller. “Well... he hasn't said anything,” I mumble.

Rik raises an eyebrow and shakes his head exaggeratedly, as if I've said something incredibly stupid. “Maybe he's sitting somewhere with his feet up on the table, taking too much space, like Dominants do, thinking, ‘Yeah, that cocksucker was pretty good after all.’”

I feel a wave of heat wash over me. Damn, why does that sound so plausible? But I refuse to admit it. I start the next race and mumble, “Asshole. You’re only talking shit so I’ll lose again.”

Rik laughs. “Is it working?”

“Shut up and race.”

------ 

Just before dinner time, Ivar comes into my room. “Hey Jelte, would you and Rik like to have dinner with us tonight?”

“Yes, that sounds better than eating in the dining hall with a bunch of grumpy Dominants who make sure you keep your mouth shut,” Rik says enthusiastically, while continuing to stare intently at the screen, steering his race car around the bend.

Before I can answer, Ivar says, “Great, see you guys in half an hour. I'll have dinner ready.”

I turn around in my chair to say something to Ivar, but he's already gone. When I sit back down, I feel how sore my butt still is from last night. “Ouch,” I whisper softly.

Rik looks at me and a dirty smile appears on his face. “Heard you showed up in the shower this morning with a bright red ass.”

I look away from Rik and pretend to be focused on the game.

“Did Milan punish your ass that badly?”

“No, Ivar,” I snap, feeling my face get hot. There's no point in denying it now.

Rik bursts out laughing. “IVAR?! Oh, this is getting better and better!”

“It's not funny at all,” I mumble gruffly.

“Not funny?” Rik tries to suppress his laughter, but fails completely. “Come on, man. Ivar? That rebellious little punk? He’s more of a brat than I am!”

I sigh exaggeratedly. “I told him he could spank me if he thought I deserved it.” My voice sounds defensive, but I immediately realize how stupid those words sound as soon as they leave my mouth.

Rik pauses the game and looks at me as if I've suddenly started speaking a different language. Slowly, a broad smile appears on his face. “Wait a minute... you asked for a spanking? From Ivar?” 

“It's not that simple,” I mumble. “It was Haukon's idea. Ivar just helps me calm down.”

Rik stares at me as if I'm suddenly speaking a different language, then grins broadly. “So Haukon, the big boss here, arranges for his own cheeky brat to light up your ass? Balder! This place is getting more interesting by the day.”

“Shut up,” I growl, pushing his car into the guardrail on the screen. Rik's eyes twinkle with amusement.

“Seriously, dude,” Rik says after maneuvering his car back onto the track, “you've got Ivar grabbing your ass, Haukon keeping you in line, and Milan constantly in your head. Admit it, you secretly enjoy all the attention.”

“How about you focus on winning instead of my ass.” I roll my eyes, but deep down I know Rik is right.

As Rik continues playing and cheers loudly because he's won another round, I feel a strange calmness come over me. It's true: I like the attention, maybe even more than is good for me. Milan teasing and challenging me without giving anything concrete, Haukon calming me with his firm authority, and even Ivar punishing me while touching something inside me that I didn't know I needed.

“What are you dreaming about?” Rik looks at the clock. “It's dinner time. We have to go to Haukon and Ivar.”

------

When Haukon lets us in, I can already smell the delicious aromas of Ivar's cooking wafting through the apartment. After greeting Haukon, I head straight for the kitchen. Rik stays behind. He is full of stories, while Haukon listens intently.

Ivar is leaning against the counter, stirring the pot. He looks at me with a warm smile when I join him. “How is your ass, young man?”

I immediately feel my face getting warm. “Sensitive,” I mumble, embarrassed. 

“Good. That was the intention.”

I look at him, frowning. “Why, actually? I mean, that I felt it yesterday, that I can understand. But it’s still sore.”

Ivar smiles calmly as he stirs the pan. “Because it’s important that you keep feeling it for a while. If you didn't feel anything today, you would hide it away again as if nothing had happened. That's not how it works. Sometimes you need to be reminded that you have really let something go. Your ass makes sure your head doesn't forget.”

He looks at me seriously for a moment. “Sometimes pain is the only way to remind you that you're not alone. That there are people who see you and know what you need, even if you don't realize it yourself.”

“Does Haukon do that with you too?” I ask cautiously.

Ivar nods slowly, his eyes softening, almost vulnerable. “Exactly like that. Haukon taught me that sometimes you have to trust someone else to really get to know yourself. You've had me now, but I think Milan is the one who will really teach you how it works.”

My heart skips a beat when I hear Milan's name. Ivar smiles meaningfully.

“Come on,” he says casually, taking the pan off the stove. “Let's eat. And don't worry. Those glowing buttocks are a reminder that you're on the right track: straight to Milan.”

A warm, uneasy tension coils in my stomach. “Milan...” I whisper softly, almost against my will.

Ivar smiles again, more kindly this time, almost understanding. “He knows exactly what he's doing, believe me.”

“That's exactly the problem,” I mumble, looking down at my feet. “He always knows exactly what he's doing. With everyone.”

Ivar puts the pan down and looks at me for a moment. “You're worrying too much, Jelte. Give yourself some space. Milan does that too.”

I want to protest, to say that I don't like “simmering” as Rik called it earlier, but I know I'm lying. The warmth in my body betrays me. I feel warm at the thought of Milan, despite his absence. Milan will teach me how it works. I notice my cock already swelling.

Ivar briefly places his hand on my shoulder. “I understand, believe me. Give yourself space to figure out what this all means to you.”

He then turns around and calls out loudly to the others: “Dinner is ready, guys!”

Haukon is the first to sit down at the table. Ivar gives Haukon an almost imperceptible submissive nod and serves Haukon first. “For the dominant man at the table,” he says softly. Then we all get generous portions.

Haukon raises his glass and looks at us with a smile. “To good company and new friendships.”

We clink our glasses together, and I feel a warm glow spread through me, especially my ass. I have to admit that it doesn't feel entirely unpleasant.

When Haukon takes the first bite, it's the signal that we can start eating. It tastes fantastic.

Rik leans toward Ivar with a mischievous smile. “Tell me honestly, how strict were you really with our friend?”

Ivar raises one eyebrow. “Strict enough to get him back in line.”

Haukon smiles amusedly. “Ivar did an excellent job. Discipline and relaxation at the same time, right, Jelte?”

I feel my cheeks getting warm again and nervously poke at my food. “Something like that,” I mumble softly.

Rik leans back with a broad smile. “Well, I'm not sure I want to get spanked by someone like Ivar. You're well and truly under his thumb. He really gave you a proper spanking.”

Ivar grins menacingly. “Watch out, Rik. If you keep provoking him, you'll be under my thumb as well.”

Rik's eyes twinkle mischievously. “Maybe I'm looking forward to that.”

“You don't know what you're asking for, kid,” says Ivar, “spanking isn't always a joke.”

Ivar glances briefly at Haukon, noticeably softer, more submissive now. “Haukon still spanks me regularly. It feels good when someone guards your boundaries. Even if you sometimes protest against it.”

Rik looks up curiously. “So you like being controlled? I thought you were always breaking Haukon's rules.”

Ivar looks a little shy and glances at Haukon again. “I do. But that doesn't mean I don't need it. Especially then.”

Haukon looks at us calmly. “Submission isn't about helplessness or weakness, guys. It's about trust. Knowing that someone is there to catch you when you're about to go off the rails.”

I feel relaxed. But I can't completely take my mind off Milan. Haukon observes me closely. As if reading my mind, he says:

“Jelte, I know Milan seems distant, but trust me, it's his way of bringing you closer.”

“Is it that obvious?” I mumble softly. 

“It is to me,” Haukon replies in a calm, reassuring voice. “Milan likes to make submissive guys sweat a little. He knows what he's doing. Just let him do his thing.”

“He's certainly doing a good job of it,” Rik says dryly. “Jelte has been completely thrown off balance by him for days.”

Ivar chuckles softly. “Trust me, Jelte. If Milan is doing this to you, it can only mean one thing: he really wants you.”

My heart beats faster at the thought. I look down at my plate, suddenly shy from all the attention. I hope Ivar is right.

------

The morning starts surprisingly light. The soreness from Ivar’s reset is still there, but it no longer burns. It grounds me, a quiet reminder of care. The evening with Haukon and Ivar has given me hope again.

When we walk into the dining room in single file, the usual silence hangs in the air. Chairs slide across the floor, the sound of cutlery against plates fills the room. I try to concentrate on my breakfast, but my thoughts keep wandering. My eyes drift to the Dominant boys, who are eating at their own tables. Milan isn't there. But that doesn't mean anything. I know he's somewhere.

When we have finished eating and left the dining room, we are allowed to speak again. Rik playfully tugs at my sleeve and gives me a mischievous look. “You were sitting there as if you were thinking about all your sins.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You were sitting there as if you were trying not to fall asleep. 

Rik laughs. “Maybe. But my sixth sense tells me you're thinking about Milan again.”

I shrug. “Maybe.”

“You're lucky today,” mutters another boy as he straightens his leather belt. He's a dark-haired, submissive boy who usually hangs out with Rik. “We're being assigned a task under some of the dominant boys.”

My heart beats faster. “Who?”

“Fedde and Milan.”

My breath catches. Milan.

Rik gives me a nudge. “Do you think he's going to challenge you or ignore you?”

“Challenge,” I say immediately. Because I have to. Right?

We gather outside. The air is crisp. The boys around me are relaxed, joking around, but my thoughts are still with him.

He's already there. 

Milan stands with his hands in his leather pants pockets, confident and effortlessly dominant. His gaze glides over us, brief and businesslike.

“You know why you're here,” he says calmly. “I'll be brief. We have work to do.”

His voice is exactly as I remember it. Low, controlled authority. I feel it in my stomach, in my breathing. He sees me. This is the moment when he acknowledges me. But he walks past us. And he doesn't look at me. I swallow. Not yet. He's testing me. That's it.

We are assigned. I end up with Rik and a few others. Milan gives quick instructions, strict and businesslike. He treats us all the same.

I only half hear the instructions. This can't be happening. This is another game. He's waiting for me to make the first move.

We work. Organizing stuff, moving things around, cleaning. Ordinary tasks. My muscles protest, but it's nothing compared to the tension in my stomach.

Milan has to say something.

“Hey, are you okay?” whispers Hidde, the dark-haired boy, as he kneels down next to me to pick up a box. His eyes flash to Milan and then back to me.

“Fine,” I mumble, my hands aching from lifting.

Hidde shakes his head. “I don't get you two. First you were always together, and now he's acting like you're air.”

“It's... complicated,” I mumble. 

“I bet it is.” Hidde sighs. “I've never seen Milan so cold toward someone he used to be interested in. What happened between you two?”

Before I can answer, Rik joins us. “The big question isn't what happened,” he whispers, “but what Jelte is going to do to fix it.” He subtly points to my hands. “Except for leaving that box on the floor.”

“Guys, less talking, more working,” says another Dominant boy, Fedde, who walks by. He stops next to me, his eyes curious. “Jelte. Milan’s golden boy, weren’t you? Last month.” His smile isn't exactly friendly before he walks on.

Rik, who has seen everything, moves closer to me. “Ignore that jerk. He's always been jealous of Milan's claim on you.”

I nod, but my eyes automatically search for Milan again. Why does his ignoring me affect me so deeply? Why can't I just...

“FOCUS on your work!” Milan's voice suddenly sounds close. He's standing almost next to me, but his eyes are fixed on Hidde and Rik. “All of you.”

When he walks away, Rik whispers, “See, he can't even look at you. What the hell did you do to make him so angry?”

My fingers squeeze the edge of a wooden box again. My stomach feels heavy.

At the end of the task, Milan gathers us together. He glances over our work and nods briefly. “Well done.” Then he looks around the group. One last assessment.

Now. Now it's coming.

His gaze slides past Rik. Past the dark-haired boy. Past the others. But not past me. Not for a second. “You can go,” Milan says. His tone remains flat. No acknowledgment.

I stand there for a moment. My feet feel heavy. My heart is pounding in my throat. That was it? That was all?

I put my hands on my neck. I want to say something, do something, but Milan is already gone. My lungs feel too tight. This is unbearable. 

I feel a hand on my shoulder. Rik. His voice is light, unsuspecting. “Boy, you looked like you expected him to compliment you personally.” 

I force a smile. “Shut up, Rik.”

He chuckles and puts his arm around my shoulder. “Come on, let's do something fun.”

But my body is already somewhere else. I need someone who does see me.

I leave Rik and the others behind. My legs move automatically, my head a mess. Milan gave me nothing. Not a glance. Not a punishment. Not a recognition. I am nowhere. And when I am nowhere, it doesn't matter where I go. My feet carry me away. Once in the hallway, I look around, searching for another pair of eyes. A pair that won't let me down. I know where to go. I know who will respond when I kneel.

My heart is pounding. My breathing is short. I'm going to Kasper.