The Corridor and Other Stories

The Corridor and Other Stories

Fabian Black

Price: $5.25 $3.50


‘Burdens & Riding With the Wind’: a TV documentary spells trouble for Phin. Adam is not impressed by his partner’s claim to fame.

‘The Corridor’: Mark is lost in a confusion of emotions. Gary uses harsh methods to bring him back to himself.

‘Pride Goes Before a Fall’: Liam and Russell’s cat, Pride, narrates a comic tale of jealousy in the hairdressing world.

PUBLISHED BY: Chastise-Books
ISBN: 9781409243137
CATEGORIES: ManLove, BDSM, Erotica, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fiction
KEYWORDS: gay romance, spanking, domestic discipline, short stories, manlove, M/M, humour, domination and submission, D/s romance, bdsm, love, romance, erotica,

EBOOKS BY Chastise-Books

EBOOKS BY Fabian Black

COPYRIGHT Fabian Black/2010

Excerpt from Riding With The Wind:

On viewing him struggle with both his belt and his emotions I experienced two strong impulses, first, to take him in my arms, to hold and to kiss him, as much for my benefit as his. My second impulse was to avail myself of the nearest chair, turn him over my knee and soundly spank him for bailing out on me the way he had. Neither were appropriate actions for the reception area of a police station. Instead, I calmly pushed his hands away from the belt, and did the job for him, re-buckling it and straightening his shirt. The latter was a telling document of stains and odours: stale alcohol, fast food grease, oily soot and sweat. I suddenly noticed that his feet were bare and after staring at them for a moment brought my eyes to rest on his face.

“Well, you coming out without a coat or jacket doesn’t surprise me in the least, but leaving without shoes?”

“I left in a bit of a hurry.”

He sounded defensive, as well he might, but his eyes brimmed and for a second I thought they were going to shed the load they carried, but they didn’t and he looked away from me. I shook my head sadly; “you seem to be making a habit of leaving places abruptly without thinking of the consequences. I’ve been worried sick since you took off yesterday afternoon and what about poor Avril, don’t you think she was in enough pain without fretting about you?”

“I know,” he continued to avoid my gaze, “and I’m sorry. I’ll call her later.”

I glanced around the police station. “Honestly, Phin, what were you thinking, or more to the point, not thinking? Nina...” I broke off, biting at my lip as a sudden swell of emotion overcame me. Nina had been one of my closest friends and I would miss her. I had loved her just as much as Phin had loved her, perhaps for different reasons and in a different way, but no matter, love has many faces.

“Nina would be disappointed. I do know that, Adam, and I know how disappointed you are too. I’m a waste of fucking space, you don’t have to tell me.”

Excerpt from Burdens:

“I think you’ve had enough now.” Adam stared in prim disapproval as Phin returned from a supposed visit to the loo, obviously via the bar, setting his second pint down on the table. “You’ll be drunk before your meal arrives.”

Phin’s hackles rose, he was getting pissed off with being pulled up.

“You know what your trouble is don’t you, Adam?”

“Do tell.”

“You’re a right old woman, one who thinks too much and knows too little. I know when I’ve had enough because I vomit and fall over. Am I vomiting, am I horizontal?”

Adam’s eyes narrowed, “if you don’t watch your mouth, you’ll be horizontal in a way you won’t like in a minute, face down over my knee.”

“So,” Phin took a long gulp of beer, “let’s take a moment to recap here. I have to watch my speed, watch my mouth and let someone else watch my tits. It’s a shame my dick isn’t detachable. It would save you the bother of emasculating me in person. I could just gift wrap it and hand it over for you to use as a dildo, as and when.”

“Pork and lamb?” The waitress made a timely appearance.

“I’m lamb,” smiled Phin sweetly, “the pig’s over there.”

Adam waited until the waitress was out of earshot before saying, “perhaps I ought to consider sending you to bed for the rest of the day when we get home. You’re behaving like a brat so I might as well treat you like one.”

“Suits me, love. Drinking on an afternoon always makes me sleepy and I intend to drink a bit more yet, so bed would be very welcome. I appreciate your consideration. Cheers!” Phin reached for his pint, but his hand closed around air as Adam got to it before him.

“You’re done drinking for today.” Adam poured the beer into the pot of the unidentified plant that decorated their alcove.

“You do realise that you’ve just vandalised an artificial plant don’t you?”

“Shut up, Phineas.”

“Is that an order?”


“Good. I don’t want to talk to you anyway. I didn’t ask you to come with me and I want my fucking bike keys back you arrogant bastard.”

“When we get home...”

“I know, you’re going to send me to bed, you’ve already said. Repetition is a sign of mental deterioration, perhaps you ought to see a doctor, ask him to grope your tits while he’s on, see how you like it.”

“Sometimes,” Adam stabbed a roast potato with his fork. “I’m afraid to answer the front door at home in case it’s the police come to arrest me for paedophilia.”

“Adam if you want to call me childish then come right out and say it, there’s no need to be coy and go all round the houses.” The look he received in return for the comment made his stomach clench and he wisely turned his attentions to his food.

The waitress smiled brightly as she gathered their plates, “everything okay, gents?”

“Lovely, thank you,” they chorused in true English fashion, even though Adam’s pork had turned out to be turkey and the lamb to be beef and both to be tough.

“Would you like a dessert, tea, coffee?”

Phin reached for the dessert menu that was propped between the salt and pepper pots, but before he got chance to open it Adam had politely declined, saying they were fine. He glared at him across the table as the waitress departed, “I wanted coffee and a pudding.”

“I’ll make you coffee when we get home,” Adam stood up unhooking his jacket from the back of the chair, “and if you’re very good I’ll let you have a biscuit with it.”

Picking up and putting on the leather cowboy hat that had been a favourite Christmas gift from Adam, Phin snarled, “I thought you were flexing your head of domicile muscles and sending me to bed when we got home?”

“You can have coffee before you go to bed.”

“Gee, you’re all heart,” Phin slapped a handful of loose change onto the table as a tip for the waitress before snatching his leather jacket from the spare chair and striding towards the exit.
Though well matched in height, Phin topping him by a bare inch, Adam had to work hard to keep pace because powered by angry resentment that extra inch made all the difference to Phin’s stride.

He caught his arm as soon as they got indoors, preventing him from going upstairs, “you have no right to be this angry with me, no right at all. You can’t seriously have imagined that I’d just let it pass, any of it.”

“I accept that I deserved a walloping. I should never have tried to conceal things from you. I was a first class prick. I even accept you confiscating my bike keys for a while, but the trials, Adam, please,” Phin cupped a hand to his partner’s face, pleading, “just let me do the speed trials?”


“I’ll go to the doctors, let him feel me up, anything.”

“You’ll go anyway, and the answer is still no.”

“Fucks SAKE!” Phin turned angrily away from Adam, quelling an urge to deck him, savagely slamming his hands against the wall instead, “can’t you take a fucking day off, just this once. You know how much these trials mean to me.”

“Yes,” Adam grasped Phin’s arm roughly jerking him around to face him. “I do know how much they mean and that’s exactly why I’m not allowing you to do them. All else is mere inconvenience and annoyance to you, having to rely on me, or a taxi or bus to get you too and from work, but those trials matter, they really matter and not letting you do them is the best way I can think of to get my point across. I’m not going to stand idly by while you write off your life, because if anything happens to you, it’s not just your life that’s lost, it’s mine. So don’t ask me again. Tell your mates that you can’t sit on a bike because your rump is too sore. Show them the marks as proof. If you want I’ll add a few more for authenticity. Tell them anything, but resign yourself to being out of these particular trials.”

Phin took off his hat kneading the brim with his fingers. “What if I say no, what if I refuse to cooperate with your decision on this?”

Adam spoke without hesitation. “You won’t refuse, because to do so would be to question the basis of our relationship and my authority within it. I know that you love and respect me enough, along with what we have together, not to want to do that. You also know that there would be repercussions that you’d like even less than the present situation. I can and I will make life very hard for you.”

“I love you, Adam, I do, but there are times when I could cheerfully punch your fucking teeth out.”

“I’m sure.” Adam briskly slapped Phin’s bottom, making him yelp. “Stop bellyaching. Let’s get some coffee.”


Excerpt from The Corridor:

Mark didn’t cry when I caned him. He rarely does. He gave an involuntary hiss of pain, his head snapping up and his hands clutching at the bedcovers, as the cane left a first livid impression of itself on the lower portion of his bare backside. Thereafter he kept his face pressed silently against the mattress of the bed he was bending across.

I don’t like using the cane, it’s not my instrument of choice, but it serves the purpose that Mark needs it to serve more effectively than anything else. As such I apply it with all seriousness and at full flight, keeping the strokes low, preferring to risk striking his thighs than risk injuring his spine or kidney area with a misplaced stroke.

By the time the cane whipped his buttocks for the tenth time his body was covered in an oily sheen of perspiration and his legs were visibly trembling. To my mind he’d had enough, more than enough and I halted, casting aside the stick and making to help him stand, but he refused, telling me through gritted teeth to complete the agreed number of strokes. Fifteen.

I shook my head but he grasped at my wrist and his eyes came closer to misting with tears than at any time during the action. He reminded me that the object of the exercise was to fulfil his needs and pleaded with me to finish, saying he needed completion of the quota, repeating the words that he had said as he handed me the cane: "I was not - I have been - I am not - I ‘do’ mind. I want to be; I need to feel that I am.” It’s a corruption of an ancient Epicurean epitaph and a code that Mark is in profound need.

I rubbed his back for a few moments, deliberating, and then I picked up the cane and continued in accordance with his wishes completing the number of strokes that he himself had allotted, administering another five strokes to his welted bottom, but slightly reducing the force of delivery.

When I helped him stand he reached his arms around my neck pressing his face to mine and I wrapped my arms round his waist pulling him against me feeling the rapid beat of his heart mirroring the rapid beat of my own. I held him in silence rubbing my cheek to his soft, mousy hair until the pain tremor left his body and the fire in his backside died a little, sufficiently at least for him to realise that the rest of him was chilled. Reaction, I told him as I shepherded him beneath the bedclothes before quickly stripping and joining him there.
I gently stroked his back before brushing my fingers over the hot tender ridges on his bottom, my cock stiffening at the knowledge that I had put them there. There is, for good or ill, an inherent sexuality in the wielding of power and penalty.



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