Confusion
As the intoxication of the orgasm slowly fades, reality hits like a sledgehammer. The room, which just a moment ago seemed like a safe cocoon, suddenly feels cold and strange. The bright daylight streaming through the narrow window feels like it’s dissecting me without mercy.
My knees are still burning from the hard floor, my throat feels raw, and the taste in my mouth - his taste - lingers like an accusation. I swallow, but it changes nothing. My stomach contracts. Was this really who I am? The thought alone makes me sick. I want to run, the air in my lungs feels too heavy, my chest too tight. But my legs feel like lead.
Kasper's hand is still resting on my shoulder. A small, tangible contact. It should be reassuring, but it feels like a burden. Too intimate, too gentle. I don't dare look at him. What must he think of me? How willing I was. How eager...
Kasper notices my stiffness. His grip tightens briefly, just for a fraction of a second – as if he wants to hold me. As if he wants to say something.
Then he withdraws his hand. Too slowly. The absence of his touch feels like a blow.
“You need time.” His voice is warm, controlled. But there is something in it that I cannot immediately place.
I don’t nod. I don’t protest. My chest tightens, but my lips remain closed.
He briefly rubs his fingers across his jaw, as if searching for the right words. “This wasn’t what I intended.
My head shoots up. “What do you mean?” My voice sounds small, uncertain.
Kasper takes a step back. Not abruptly, but with a detachment that cuts like a knife. His hand lingers on the door handle just a little too long, his grip a little too tense
“You need a mentor, Jelte. Someone to guide you.” His gaze meets mine for a fraction of a second too long. “There are others who can do that better than I can.”
My stomach drops. ”But…” The word escapes me before I can stop it.
“No.” His voice is soft, but unwavering. His shoulders tense briefly, as if he is talking to himself. He shakes his head, his jaw clenched. “This is better. For both of us.”
He turns and walks to the door. No further explanation. No apologies. Just that.
His hand lingers on the doorknob just a little too long. A moment in which he could turn back. Could say something. But then he is gone. I am left behind in the bare room, confused by the sudden emptiness. My skin still glows from his touch, my head is in chaos. What exactly happened?
The door closes and the sound echoes through the room like a definitive end.
------
I am still standing in the same place, as if my feet are rooted to the floor. My throat feels raw. His taste is still on my tongue.
Slowly it dawns on me that my trousers are still undone. With trembling fingers, I try to make myself presentable, but even this simple act feels too complex. The last bit of semen on my stomach is already drying. I wipe it away with my shirt, and shame washes over me as I realise how desperate, how willing I was.
There is a small sink in the corner of the room. The tap gives a shrill squeak of protest as I turn it on. The water is ice-cold. I bend over, take a sip, try to wash the taste away. But it doesn’t help. When I look up, I’m staring into a small mirror above the sink. My lips are still swollen, my hair a tangled mess. Is this how he saw me?
A wave of nausea rises in me. This wasn’t what I came here for. I came to... Yes, why exactly? To find out who I am? To change who I am?
The boy in the mirror looks back at me accusingly. My father was right. I’m weak. The first Dominant who pays attention to me... I squeeze my eyes shut, but that only makes it worse. Now I see again how I knelt in front of him, how eagerly I...
A noise in the hallway startles me. Footsteps. Voices. The reality of where I am sinks in – a home full of other boys. Soon I’ll have to go outside. Soon I’ll have to face them. Will they be able to see it? Will they know what happened here?
I collapse onto the bed, the mattress hard and unwelcoming beneath me. The room that was once a cocoon of lust now feels like a prison cell. And the worst part is... part of me still longs for him. For his touch. For his voice telling me it was okay.
Others who are better at this.
The words echo in my mind. Has he done this before? Am I just... one of many? The thought should bring relief – this was just routine for him. But instead, I feel a stab of... jealousy?
More voices outside. The shelter is waking up, and I’m trapped in this room. Trapped in my own confusion. I have to pull myself together. But how?
His taste is still on my tongue. A memory I cannot wash away.
------
I try to get Kasper out of my head by tidying my things in the modest wardrobe. I open the bedside cabinet to store the few books I’ve brought with me. Inside, I find a leather strap with a note beside it. Printed in elegant runic script:
————————
Welcome, young submissive Son of Balder
Your journey towards obedience and insight begins tonight.
The path of the submissive boy is one of discipline, devotion and humility.
In the House for Submissive Sons of Balder, you are expected to embrace these values and prepare yourself for the future.
The Dominant boy who will one day guide you deserves a submissive who understands his role and accepts his place with pride.
To help you grow in obedience and surrender, a leather strap has been placed in your bedside cabinet.
This simple instrument is not only for correction, but also a tool for your personal development.
By taking a hand in your own discipline, you will learn respect and devotion to the path ahead.
From now on, you are expected to take a moment of self-reflection each evening. Follow the instructions below carefully:
– Bare your bottom, kneel beside your bed, head bowed, your buttocks pushed back
– Read the prayer below out loud, and let the words sink into your heart
– Administer three strokes to each buttock with the leather strap. Feel the warmth of discipline
– End with the words: “My future Dominant is watching. Let my buttocks burn in His honour.”
– Go to sleep with a humble and open heart.
Prayer for My Future Dominant
Oh Lord of my path,
who shall discipline and guide me,
grant me a willing heart,
a humble spirit,
and a firm bottom.
May I one day be worthy of Him. So be it.
————————
Ridiculous. What a patronising load of rubbish.
I run my fingers over the smooth, supple leather. It actually feels quite pleasant – warm and soft beneath my fingertips. Just like... No. I push away the image of Kasper's leather trousers.
I could give it a try. The thought flashes through my mind before I can stop it. My eyes drift back to the absurd instructions on the note. I shake my head and put it back in the cabinet. My fingers linger for a moment on the leather strap before I place it on the nightstand.
I keep thinking about those ridiculous instructions. What kind of idiot perverted fetishist dreams up something like that? I chuckle as I picture rows of submissive boys lined up before my mind’s eye. The sound of leather hitting bare skin as they mumble that absurd little prayer. I hear myself laughing out loud—until I realise that this nonsense is expected of me too.
The gong for lunch sounds, saving me from spiralling any further. I pull myself together and head to the dining hall. The leather strap remains on the nightstand, like a promise.
------
When I leave my room, all I have to do is follow the stream of boys hurrying towards the dining hall. In the corridor I can already hear the scraping of chairs, the clinking of cutlery and crockery. The only thing missing is the familiar cacophony of excited voices I remember from my school canteen.
When I step into the dining hall, I see why. Rows of submissive boys are seated at long, plain tables, eating in silence. Young Dominant boys patrol the space with an intimidating air. On the side of their leather uniforms hangs the same kind of strap I found in my bedside drawer. Why do all the Dominant boys here have to look so damn sexy?
When I happen to catch a red-haired boy with freckles whispering something to the one next to him, a sharp look from a nearby Dominant is enough to shut him up. The poor boy flushes bright red. The Dominant casually slaps the strap against his palm, making a dull, ominous sound. The freckled boy gulps. No one laughs.
I pause for a moment, trying to take in this unfamiliar space. At the back of the hall, the floor is slightly elevated. A more luxurious dining area has been set up there – stylish tables, soft lighting, comfortable chairs. The boys sitting there speak aloud, but in a calm, refined tone. I can't make out a word of what they’re saying. They're all wearing those tough leather uniforms. They must be the Dominants who aren’t on patrol duty.
One of the walls holds the buffet. There's only one. Both Dominants and submissives queue up patiently to be served. Apparently, we all eat the same food. As I approach the buffet, I catch the savoury aroma of chicken soup. I’m so distracted by all the new impressions that I don’t really pay attention as I try to join the line.
I bump into a Dominant boy who steps up at the same moment. He’s stunning – blond, with cheerful blue eyes, maybe nineteen at most. My throat tightens at the sight of his uniform.
"Sorry," I say out loud, startled.
He raises a finger to his lips, whispering *shhh*, and gives me a wink and a smile. I move to let him go first, but he gestures with his right hand that I should take my place in front of him. He falls in behind me. I have to stop myself from looking back. Why didn’t he punish me? There’s a fluttering in my stomach that isn’t just hunger.
I find a quiet spot to eat my cheese sandwiches, salad, and a bowl of steaming chicken soup. The food is excellent. And the silence protocol suits me just fine. After what happened with Kasper, I have zero interest in making small talk with anyone.
Kasper.
I spot him sitting alone in the Dominants’ section, eating in silence. He’s staring straight at me, but from this distance I can’t make out his expression. I look away, forcing my gaze back to my soup. But I can feel his eyes burning into me.
A cold fury rises inside me. But I have no way of showing it. No outlet at all.
------
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Kasper leaving the dining hall. I quickly return my tray with empty plates. As fast as I can without drawing attention, I make my way into the hallway. I catch a glimpse of him just as he turns the corner. My heart is pounding. I don’t even know exactly what I want—only that I can’t just let him go.
I pick up my pace. My breath comes fast. It’s not a wise decision, but I make it anywa
When I finally get close enough, I call out—louder than allowed—“Hey!”
He stops. But he doesn’t turn around.
“It is not permitted to shout in the corridors.” His voice is flat, controlled. A little too controlled.
“Oh, are you going to punish me now?” My voice trembles with suppressed fury. “Isn’t that what you like? Disciplining boys?”
Now he turns. His face is a mask. Smooth, distant, professional. The Kasper who made me feel like I belonged to him, who showed me how good it felt to serve—he’s gone.
“If you have a complaint, you can submit it to—”
“Fuck that,” I snap, cutting him off.
Something flickers in his jaw, a brief tightening of muscle—but I’m too angry to care. I *want* him to react. I want him to feel me, to let me reach him.
“You can pretend nothing happened, but we both know better. Or was I just one of your many little sluts, only good for a quick fuck?”
Something flashes in his eyes. Just for a moment. And then it’s gone. Swallowed.
“You’re upset. Go cool off in your room.” His voice is calm. Almost businesslike. That makes it worse.
My nails dig into my palms. My breathing’s too shallow. I want him to drop the act. I want him to grab me. To make me feel like I still matter.
“Or what?” I step closer. Too close. “You going to put me over your knee? Teach me to be obedient?”
I want him to do it.
His hand moves. His fingers slide toward the strap on his belt.
My heart skips a beat.
Yes. Yes—do it, please.
But he doesn’t.
His gaze lingers on me for a second. Just a fraction too long. Then he shakes his head, slowly—like he’s forbidding himself something.
“Go to your room, Jelte. This isn’t...” He pauses. His Adam’s apple bobs. “This conversation is over.”
No. No, Balder damn it! It’s not.
My heart is in my throat. This is wrong. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. He’s supposed to grab me. To claim me. But instead, he turns his back on me.
“Coward!” The word slips out before I can stop it.
His shoulders remain stiff. He heard me. But he doesn’t respond.
He turns and walks away.
His footsteps echo down the corridor. Too final. Too hard. Too cold.
I stand there, trembling. My breath is ragged, uneven. My body is screaming for something—for him—but he’s gone.
Wodan damn it.
------
I can’t think of anything better to do than to follow Kasper’s suggestion. *Suggestion*, because if Kasper wants to give orders, he should bloody well grab me instead of letting me fall. I picture him grabbing me by the neck and dragging me to my room… but no. I’ll have to do it myself.
Fueled by all the rage still boiling inside me, I storm up the stairs to my room. I stomp hard on each step, as if punishing the stairs for my misery.
“Asshole! Prick! Coward!” The words hiss through my clenched teeth. I glare down at my feet, uselessly trying to make the steps feel my fury. I’m nearly at the top when a voice snaps through the air like a whip.
“Well. Are you done?”
My head jerks up. I’ve seen that Dominant before. He’s one of the ones Kasper was talking to earlier. They called him Haukon, I think.
What the hell does he want? Can’t he just leave me alone? I hadn’t expected anyone to see me—least of all a Dominant like him. “And who the fuck are you?” I’m still too angry to care about protocol.
He’s standing on the landing, leaning casually against the wooden banister, arms loosely crossed. His gaze isn’t angry. Not even annoyed. He’s just *watching* me. “I’m someone who sees a boy who seriously needs to blow off some steam,” he says, his eyes locked on mine.
His calm hits me like an open hand—steady, but with enough weight behind it to shut me up.
“Kasper told me to go to my room,” I snap, his name spilling out with more heat than I intended.
“Good. Shall I walk you there before you break something?” It’s a question that isn’t really a question at all.
I don’t know what to say. Or whether I’m supposed to say anything. I just stare at the Dominant boy in front of me. He’s tall, with a boyish yet stern face. Intimidating. Or he should be, with that posture and that uniform. But instead… he feels almost safe?
I must be hesitating too long, because I hear him sigh—deliberately, loudly.
“Alright. I’ll give you a hand.”
I feel his hand land on the back of my neck. Heavy. Warm. Firm, but gentle. He starts walking. Without thinking, I follow.
I know this is what I wanted. But now that it’s happening, the anger inside me only churns more violently. And yet I don’t dare do anything but hold it in.
------
When we enter my room, he sits me down firmly on the bed. Then he takes the chair opposite me. The anger is still swirling inside me. My body wants to scream it out—but I can't. Haukon keeps watching me, calm and composed. He sits relaxed, legs spread wide. Quiet strength. Masculine, grounded. And somehow, his presence begins to calm me too.
"I'm Haukon," he says, breaking the silence. "I saw you in the hallway this morning. You're new here, right? What's your name?"
"Jelte..." I mumble.
His gaze searches me. Silence falls again.
"Jelte, why are you so angry?" His eyes are soft. Understanding.
As if I'm going to tell him that.
But Haukon doesn’t seem bothered by my silence. He just keeps looking at me with that damn patient look of his. He's not going anywhere. I try to hold his gaze but end up looking away—toward my bedside table, where the paddle still lies. His eyes follow mine. I hear him chuckle.
He gets up, picks up the paddle, and strokes the leather with one hand. Then he sits down again, opposite me. He doesn’t look at me right away, but studies the paddle as if it’s something he's never handled before. The way his fingers move tells a different story—slow, familiar. He turns it once in his hand, then looks back at me.
"It's alright, kid. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to."
What is he planning to do with that thing?
"You clearly need to let off some steam. Want me to help?"
My body screams for release. I’m not submissive! The thought rises hard in my head. I clench my jaw.
It’s like Haukon hears it.
"I'm just helping you relax, Jelte. That’s all." He says it like he's offering me a cup of tea.
“Uh… okay then.” It doesn’t sound convincing, but at least I said it.
A wide grin spreads across his face. "Good choice, Jelte." He stands up. "Don’t worry, boy. You're going to love this."
My body reacts immediately. I'm already hard. If this is just for relaxation… my brain tries to justify it, but isn't fully convinced.
"Adjust your pillow. I want you to be comfortable."
I swallow. Comfortable? Still, I do as I’m told.
"Take down your trousers and lie across the pillow so your hips are raised."
As I lower my trousers, my erection springs free. I glance at Haukon, embarrassed, but he politely ignores it and waits while I settle in. My body is tense. The anger is still close.
I feel the soft leather graze over my buttocks. It feels insanely good. My cock stiffens further. But the anger stays.
"You don’t have to do anything, Jelte. Just let it happen." His voice holds an authority that makes me both angrier and hornier.
SMACK SMACK
Two sharp swats. One on each cheek. A warm, comforting sting spreads
SMACK SMACK
Same again—too gentle this time. My hips lift, almost involuntarily. Balder! I'm so horny. My brain jumps in: Is this who I am now? Horny. Eager. Submissive
THWACK THWACK
Two firm slaps. Exactly what my body craved. "Wodandamn it! Haukon!"
THWACK THWACK
"Tell me what you’re feeling, Jelte." His voice is warm—but commanding.
"I'm Wodan-damn furious!"
"You're lying here like a desperate little slut and still trying to act angry?" His voice dips low, sarcastic.
THWACK THWACK
Each blow peels away another layer of rage.
THWACK THWACK TAP
"Wodandamnit!” Not cursing at him—cursing at myself. At my head, still fighting my body. My ass is on fire, and it feels right. My head insists it’s not. Haukon leaves me no time to argue.
THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK
"Your body doesn’t lie, Jelte," he says. Low, threatening, but without anger. "Look at yourself. Look at what you're doing."
I do. My hips are pushing back, desperate for more.
"There it is." He grins. He knows. He's won. My body has won a victory over my mind. But my head won’t yield. “No... No, fuck this!” My whole body is burning. Shaking. Furious and turned on.
Haukon stays calm. He gives me no escape.
THWACK THWACK THWACK
My body surrenders. My hips jolt. My breath grows ragged.
"Say it," he commands. Only his voice and the fire in my backside remain.
"I... I can’t anymore..." My voice breaks. My mind gives out. My body takes over.
He chuckles softly. "Knew it." His hand glides down my back—steady, final. "You see now, boy? This is what you needed."
My ass glows. My skin’s hypersensitive. But my body feels light. My mind, quiet.
Haukon moves his chair closer to the bed and sits beside me. He massages my neck—slow, firm, soothing.
His hands. My burning ass. Peace. It feels so good.
After what seems like forever, his voice returns. "Time to pull your trousers back up, boy."
As I dress, he walks to the door. "If you ever walk around like a ticking time bomb again—come find me."
"Thanks, Haukon."
"You're welcome, lad. Oh—and come have dinner with us tonight. You’ll meet Ivar."
He leaves. The door closes. And the room already feels a little more like mine.
------
That same evening, just before dinner, I knock on the door of Haukon and Ivar’s apartment. The door swings open, and there stands a boy with a broad grin, his tousled dark blond hair wild above a pair of cheeky eyes. Ivar. Confident. Playful. A good friend of Haukon’s—and obviously a Dominant.
“You must be Jelte!” His voice is warm and inviting. He holds out his hand, and before I know it, I’m swept up in his energy. “Haukon told me about you. I’m Ivar.”
The smell of something baked hits my nose, and my stomach growls at the worst possible moment. Ivar laughs. “Perfect timing. Dinner’s almost ready.”
“I saw you in the hallway this morning,” he adds with a wide grin. “Kasper pointed you out. He had quite an opinion.”
My breath hitches. “Oh?” It’s all I manage to say.
Ivar chuckles. “Relax, nothing bad. He thought you were... interesting.
Before I can think of a reply, Haukon appears in the hallway. “Jelte! Great to see you, boy.” He pulls me into a strong embrace. “You’re very welcome here.”
Ivar steps aside to let me in and gives a quick tour. “We’ve got an apartment here in the Sanctuary,” he explains. “Normally we live in the village, but after the Midsummer Run, we stay here for a while to help with the new boys.”
He gestures toward a chair and invites me to sit. The moment I do, I wince—my ass is still burning from Haukon’s spanking earlier.
“Ha! I see you’ve had the Haukon treatment,” Ivar grins, eyes twinkling. I shoot him a pained, slightly embarrassed look. He’s clearly enjoying this.
He stays standing, leaning one hand on the table. His grin doesn’t waver. His fingers tap idly on the wood. “Yeah, Haukon knows what he’s doing.”
Is he mocking me? ...Or testing me?
He studies me for a second, then the grin fades. “Don’t worry,” he adds, almost apologetically. “Give it two days—you’ll barely feel a thing.”
Ivar steps away to serve the casserole. It smells amazing.
Haukon nods that we can begin eating.
“Did you make this yourself?” I ask, savoring the unexpectedly refined flavors.
“Ivar’s an excellent cook,” Haukon says, giving him a look that seems... possessive? “He usually handles dinner.”
“Tell me about home,” Haukon says, helping himself to a second portion. “Why did you choose to come to the Home for submissive Sons of Balder instead of going back?”
“My father’s a tyrant.” The bitterness in my voice surprises even me.
“That sounds familiar,” Ivar says, just after swallowing a bite.
“After I told him I liked boys, he called me weak!” The anger and sadness boiling inside me make my voice crack.
“Jelte,” Haukon looks me straight in the eye. “You’re not weak. No matter what your father says.
His gaze settles something inside me. There’s strength in him—real strength. The kind that could stand up to someone like my father. I feel seen.
“My dad wasn’t much better,” Ivar chimes in. He launches into a vivid account of what a jerk his father is. “And just when I’d finally convinced Lars to suck my cock—he was really getting into it—my old man barges in.”
A stab of erotic jealousy hits me. I wouldn’t mind being that Lars.
“…He gave us both a spanking. Bare-assed.” Ivar pulls a mock-pained face. His eyes flick—just for a second—from Haukon to me. “Compared to what you got this afternoon, that was nothing.”
That must’ve been brutal for a Dominant boy—being humiliated like that by his own father. I must look shocked, because Ivar adds quickly, “Ah, it’s ancient history.”
------
After dinner, we settle in the living room for a drink. I’m on the sofa with Ivar beside me; Haukon sits in an armchair. I sip my brandy—it burns pleasantly in my throat, and a gentle haze starts to settle in my head.
“Jelte, what were you so angry about this afternoon?” The question lands out of nowhere, low and steady in Haukon’s baritone.
What the hell does he want from me? I press my lips together..
Ivar places a hand on my shoulder. “You can tell us.”
I shake my head hard. “Mmmhhff.”
He shifts closer, sliding his hand from my shoulder to the back of my neck. “Kasper?” Just one word. A quiet question.
“Stop it.” I try to shut it down, desperate. But there’s no force left in my voice—it’s already starting to break, caught in the first tremors of a sob I can’t hold back.
My head collapses against Ivar’s strong shoulder. My whole body shakes against his. Between shaky breaths, I sob, “Why are you doing this?! Just leave me alone!” I beat at his chest with my fists, clutching at his shirt. Ivar says nothing. He just holds me, gently rocking me in his arms.
My body gives in. It slackens. I slump into his lap. “He thinks he can do whatever he wants.” Ivar strokes my cheek. His thumb lingers just below my jawline. My breathing stutters. “I hate him.”
“Shhh, it’s okay,” Ivar murmurs in my ear, his hand still soft against my cheek. “Cry if you need to. Let it out.”
Slowly, the anger and fear begin to seep out of me. His warmth calms me. I take a deep breath and sit up again, shaky but a little steadier.
Ivar watches me silently, waiting for the right moment. “Can you tell us what happened now?”
Grief and surrender give way to a new surge of rage. “He took me. Fucked my mouth, came in me, and tossed me aside like I was a used condom.”
Haukon sits still, frozen. Ivar’s face twists as if the words punched him in the gut. “What a fucking bastard,” he mutters, pulling me close again.
Haukon stays silent. Ivar whispers gentle things in my ear, then releases me from the hug.
“That doesn’t sound like the Kasper I know,” Haukon says thoughtfully, like he’s searching for something he missed.
Before I can say anything, Ivar snaps his gaze to Haukon. There’s a sharpness in his voice. “He’s reckless as hell. Short fuse, too.”
“That’s true,” Haukon replies, his tone softening. “But he’s always been careful with new submissive boys.” He hesitates. “Usually…”
My stomach knots. “Are you saying I made it up?” My voice wavers. “You think I invented this?”
“No, I don’t,” Haukon says firmly. His tone shifts—just a touch of authority now. “I’ll speak to Kasper tomorrow. For tonight, you need rest. Tomorrow’s a big day. You’ll be assigned a mentor and you’ll want a clear head.”
“Oh, great,” I snap. “So you’re dumping me too?”
“No. You’re still shaken up—that’s understandable. You’re staying here tonight.” There’s nothing but care in his voice.
Ivar glances at Haukon with a silent question.
Haukon meets my eyes—soft, but resolute. “You’ll sleep in Ivar’s bed. I’ll take the couch.”
That night, I’m grateful to Haukon. Spending my first night alone in the Sanctuary for submissive Sons of Balder, would’ve been a cold, haunted thing—especially after what happened with Kasper. But this night, I fall asleep held in Ivar’s arms.
His embrace is firm and warm, his breath calm against the back of my neck. And with the safety this gentle Dominant gives me, I finally sleep. Deep and untroubled.
