A/N
Title: Caramel's Lollipop
Author: Ihli
Rating/Warnings: M/BDSM, Slash
Pairing: Hotch/Reid
Summary: Hotch couldn't forgive himself for Hailey's death. He knew he needed to be punished. Hotch/Reid, Slash!
Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds or any of the characters I just like to play with them sometimes. I promise to put them back where I found them.
Hello All,
I never thought I would write a BDSM story, but I know I should never say never. I have done research into BDSM and have spoken with a practitioner for this story. I apologize for any inaccuracies.
This story is set a couple months after Hailey's death.
Please review.
Thanks to The Shameless BookWorm for Beta'ing this chapter! All mistakes are mine.
Chapter 1Aaron Hotchner inhaled deeply, breathing out slowly, as he approached the man at the counter. His heart raced, but he kept his expression schooled to its usual stoic appearance.
A young man, mid-twenties, Hotch judged, sat fiddling with a smart-phone; his wavy black hair stuck up in several directions and fell forward into his eyeliner outlined eyes.
"I would like to make an appointment."
Soulful green eyes looked up at Hotch and seemed to flinch back for a moment. "Dom or sub?"
Something in the youth's look reminded him of Spencer Reid, a man he was trying not to think about. What was someone who looked so innocent doing working here? "I don't understand."
Shaking his head, the man worried his lower lip with his teeth. "Do you want to make an appointment with a Dom or a sub, and do you have someone specific in mind?"
Hotch's heart pounded, and he almost turned around and walked away. Was he really going to do this? "A Dom. I don't know anyone."
"Right, let's see who has openings."
Hotch heard the rhythmic clicking of keys on a keyboard while the man's eyes focused on a screen.
He tried to be patient, but it was difficult with his heart threatening to burst from his chest. He reminded himself why he was here at Bound, a local, underground BDSM club. It wasn't for sex. He would trade that if needed. No, he needed serious, significant pain. He needed to be punished. Haley was dead because Hotch had failed to keep her safe.
It didn't matter that their marriage was over.
It didn't matter that he had feelings for someone else now, especially since feelings for his subordinate Spencer Reid were forbidden. In fact, those feelings made it worse.
It didn't matter that no one blamed him.
He was still at fault and he could not move forward until he paid the price.
Soul-eyes looked up and started to speak when the phone behind the counter rang and all Hotch could do was listen to one side of the conversation.
"Hello."
"Hey, Caramel. It's been a long time."
"Tonight?"
"I got a guy right here."
"Yeah, he's a newbie."
"Let me check."
The soulful eyes lit with glee as he turned to Hotch. "Our best Dom, Caramel, is looking for a sub tonight. Caramel hasn't been here in a while. Most subs would give their left nut for this chance especially because this Dom never takes newbies. But man, you're in the right place at the right time. Interested?"
Hotch almost turned and ran. "Yes."
"He's in."
"An hour? Okay."
"I'll make sure he fills out the extra paperwork."
The boy-man hung up and looked at Hotch. "Follow me."
They went to a back office and the man pulled a packet of paper out of a filing cabinet and then added several sheets from another file.
"These are the standard forms and liability wavers. Can't have someone suing us for something they agreed to. Then, these are the sheets for Caramel. Unless you request it, the Dom only see's these sheets. The rest of your information is confidential."
Hotch took the sheaf of papers and laid them out on the desk to peruse as soul eyes exited the room.
The first few were almost funny in a bizarre sort of way. "Sub agrees to waive all Liability for any injuries sustained during play activities with Dom." These he signed easily. He wanted pain, and they didn't want to be sued if he changed his mind.
Then he got to Caramel's pages. That's when things got interesting:
1) Do you have a preferred sub name? (Dom reserves the right to disregard.)
No Name
2) What is your safe word? If none is specified, then "red" will designate stop and "yellow" will designate pause.
Those are fine.
3) What are you hoping to achieve from this session.
Pain, punishment for past misdeeds.
4) What are your hard limits?
Frowning at the page, Hotch had to think about that one for a while. He had never really thought about it before. What would he not want done under any circumstances?
No asking my name or identity.
This wasn't about making a connection. This was about being punished. He knew that this activity would be frowned upon by his superiors, by Strauss. It could affect his work life, and get him sent for another psych eval. It was more prudent to keep his identity secret so it would not be revealed accidently. In fact, he realized he should specify:
No revealing my face.
What else was there? He knew he would probably have to have sex with this lady. That was how this went, wasn't it? It might even be kinky sex. He had little experience with that, but he was willing. Then he remembered something.
No permanent marks, especially piercing or tattoos.
This wasn't a new lifestyle he was embracing. This was punishment. He didn't need to have some body-art he could not explain.
No marks that can be seen when I'm wearing a business suit
Hotch knew if his team saw any kind of marks on him, there would be questions that he so did not want to answer.
No discussion of any scars or other marks on my body
Foyet was a hard limit. Period.
No knives or knife play of any kind.
If the Dom used a knife for any reason, there was a very real chance Hotch would flash back and have a PTSD reaction. He knew he was even taking a chance with bondage, but he thought as long as there were no knives, he would be okay.
No drugs
Would a Dom even do this? Hotch had no idea, but he was sure that addiction was not an option. Reid had been given drugs without his consent, and it had been devastating for the young man. Reid had beaten it. That was just another way that he was extraordinary, but why take chances.
He knew there was more. There should be more. He had seen first-hand what the most depraved were capable of, but then unsubs didn't use safe words. He would have to trust that would cover him, that the club had it in their best interests to make sure that Dom's followed the rules.
5) Requests
Hit me. Hard.
6) On a scale of 1 to 10 what would you consider your pain tolerance to be? Where zero is no pain and 10 is severe disabling pain.
Hotch considered his answer for that. He survived being stabbed multiple times by Foyet. It had sucked, but he lived. He had a pretty high tolerance for pain.
6/7
The questions went on and on asking Hotch things that were extremely personal or that he had never considered before.
27) Circle All of the Sex Toys Below that you are willing to use. Please put a check next to ones you have used before
Cock Ring
Vibrating Cock Ring
Cock Cage
Dildo
Vibrating Dildo
Butt Plug
Anal Beads
Nipple Clamps
…
There must have been fifty items listed some of which Hotch had never even heard of before. It wasn't hard to fill out what he had used before, almost none. Sex with Haley had been fine although unimaginative.
What he was willing to use was another story. He finally wrote in: Whatever I need to agree to in order to get pain.
The questions continued and Hotch's hand started to ache from writing. This was not the kind of pain he had envisioned when coming to Bound, but it was reminiscent of writing: "I will not interrupt" one hundred times for Mrs. Borken.
When he was finally done, he brought the tome of papers back to the desk.
"Caramel told me to inform you that this session is a trial. There may not be others." Soul-eyes looked almost apologetic, like he had offered a kid an unlimited supply of chocolate but then said he might only get one bar.
"Understood."
"Follow me. I'll help you prepare."
Prepare? Hotch shivered inside. What could that entail?
Hotch watched the man's spikey hair as he was led down a long corridor and past several closed doors until they reached number seven. Boy-man took a key from a ring, unlocked the door and opened it, leading Hotch inside.
His breath caught at the sight. It all would happen here. Benches, couches, and a bed were the most identifiable. Along with an X of wood on the wall. Chains and leather cuffs were installed at strategic places. The bed was made with a red satin sheet.
Along one wall were whips, canes, crops, floggers, and paddles of various sizes and designs.
Another wall had shelves with sex toys: dildos, butt plugs, and a variety of implements that Hotch couldn't begin to identify. Each was carefully sealed in individual plastic bags.
"Everything is either replaced or sterilized between each session. Caramel will want you to be naked and kneeling on that pad in the center of the room. Any questions?"
"I want to hide my face. I don't want to be identified."
The man walked over to the wall and pulled down a leather mask. Its eyes were covered and it fit around his head to just below the nose.
"Covers everything but your mouth. Caramel will want that … available."
That was ominous. What would the lady ask him to do with his mouth? Truth be told, he had a pretty good idea. He had rarely done that with Hailey and had no particular desire to do it now with a stranger, but that was part of the punishment.
"You can put your clothes and stuff in this cabinet here and set the combination." The man left the room and shut the door.
Hotch disrobed, neatly folding each article of clothing and placing it in the cabinet. As he removed each article, his trepidation grew. This was just so extreme. Giving control over his body to another human being even if he did have a safe word. But, he pushed through the pounding of his heart and the sweat dripping down his back. He needed this.
Once he was naked, he moved over to the mat, knelt down, and then placed the mask over his head. When he said he didn't want to be identified, he didn't realize it would go both ways: that he would be blinded. The fact that his eyes were covered added a level of … something.
He waited for what felt like an eternity, kneeling, blind, naked, and vulnerable. What kind of woman would come? Would she be older? Younger? Would he be able to tell? Did it matter as long as she hurt him?
His anxiety level rose the longer he waited? What the hell was he doing? This was insane, ludicrous. He had finally lost it. Didn't he chase people who hurt others? But, this was with his consent. Did that really matter?
He could feel his heart race out of control, his breathing speeding faster and faster. He was starting to feel pins and needles in his feet. Just as he was about to stand up and give up this entire fiasco, he heard the door creak open and soft soled shoes moved across the floor.
CMCMCMCMCM
Spencer Reid glanced up at his boss's door. It had been shut most of the day, and the few times Hotch had emerged, his face had looked grim, pale, and harsh. This look made his normal death glare seem like cooing to a baby.
He knew Hotch was in pain. His ex-wife had been killed, and Hotch blamed himself. It hadn't been Hotch's fault. Foyet was the psychopath who had done the deed. He had offered Hotch a devil's bargain and Hotch had done the right thing in refusing, but the price had been beyond terrible.
The knot in Spencer's stomach clenched tighter and tighter. Spencer loved Hotch with all of his being. He knew nothing could ever come of it. Hotch was straight and in mourning for the woman who had divorced him but clearly, at least to Spencer, still held the man's heart.
Even if a miracle occurred and Hotch someday could have feelings for a guy. It wouldn't be for dorky Spencer Reid he was sure. The man was hot and could have anyone. What would he want with a scrawny geek?
And don't even get him started on the work implications.
Spencer hadn't slept in days. The worse Hotch got; the worse Spencer felt. That just led to nightmares. He desperately wanted to comfort the man he loved, but he honestly could not find a way. Hotch was closed up tighter than a chastity belt on a fairytale princess. He wasn't letting anyone in.
He knew he had to do something to relieve his own stress and soon. The thoughts of Dilaudid were back. The oblivion of the drug sounded so appealing. He had already been to three meetings this week. He knew that the drug merely traded one problem for another that in the end was so much worse.
"Hey, Pretty boy."
"Hey, Morgan."
"You alright man? What happened to you?"
Spencer kept his eyes from glancing at Hotch's closed door. He did not need his best friend knowing about his crush on their boss. "Not sleeping well."
"Wanna talk about it."
"Not much to say."
The corners of Morgan's mouth quirked up. "You, Reid? Now that's troubling. I expected some treatise on Freud or something."
Reid's lips curled in a half-smile. "Well, I could go through the history of dream interpretation …"
"Forget I asked. If you want to talk, I'm here."
"Thanks, I know."
The conversation with Morgan was the catalyst that made him decide to act. He walked out of the BAU and into a side room as he pulled his cell from his pocket and dialed the number he knew by heart and would never program into his contacts.
There was one thing that could help with this stress although he hadn't indulged in quite some time. In fact, since his feelings for Hotch had solidified, he just couldn't bring himself to do it. But he had to, it was the only way.
"Yeah, it's Caramel. I … I need someone. Tonight."