"So. You're actually doing this?"
The party was raging on around them. The next round of beer pong had begun, crowding Dream and George away from the table, so they stood on the sidelines, amongst the crowd. George kept hearing the audio of his humiliating video playing again and again, followed by laughter. He could hear murmurs of his name, the gossip already spreading.
Karl stood behind George impatiently. George knew Karl was waiting for him to join, regardless of the dare. After all, what kind of person would accept a dare like that and then actually carry through? Being Dream's slave? Obeying his every word? It sounded ridiculous.
But George was going to do it.
Dream's question hung between them. He looked uncertain, even a little irritated, as if he was shocked that George was lingering. George shrugged, as if the answer should have been obvious.
"Uh, yeah? You dared me. What am I going to do? Laugh it off?"
"That's what I would have expected from you, yeah."
There was a note of bitterness in Dream's tone, but he chuckled softly and it disappeared. "You really think you're going to spend the night doing everything I tell you? Seriously?"
George gave him an irritated, wide-eyed expression. "Again...yeah? Unless you were just making it up to fuck with me. If you can't handle me, I'll gladly-"
"No, no," Dream shook his head, and his smirk seemed to shift - it became darker. Hungrier. "I can handle you."
George's stomach twisted weirdly at his words. Something about it excited him. It sounded like a threat.
"I'm more concerned if you can handle it. I don't think you realize what you're in for."
George stepped up to him, his face inches away from Dream's, chests almost touching. George had to crane his neck back to look up at Dream. "I'm not afraid of you, Dream. Whatever you've got..." His eyes dragged slowly down Dream's body, and back up again. Sizing him up, all six-foot-whatever of him. "I can take it."
Dream's smile didn't waver. Despite what he said, George felt a tiny, sudden jab of fear. It was the kind of fear he encountered before watching a scary movie, or walking into a haunted maze - it was a thrill, a rush, a hit of adrenaline straight to his veins.
"If you say so, Gogy," he said softly. "But you might be looking for mercy sooner than you think." He stepped back, and George finally allowed himself to breath. "Follow me then."
Dream's long legs carried him quickly over the lawn, back toward the house, George had to jog just to keep pace with him. Karl caught up with George, and he brought him another drink.
Shoving it into his hands, Karl hooked his arm through George's and hissed, "Let's bail! We'll lay low for 10 minutes and then-"
"I'm not bailing." George took a long sip of the fruity drink Karl handed him, thankful for the liquid courage.
Karl stopped abruptly, and his looped arm yanked George to a halt.
"You're not bailing? What the hell do you mean, you're not bailing? George!"
His disbelief made George wince. How could he explain this, how could he make it make sense?
"George, you're crazy, why would you-"
"Gogy!"
George's heart stuttered. Dream had paused outside the back door. He snapped his fingers, and pointed to the ground at his feet. "Come. Now."
George glanced back at Karl, and saw that his mouth had tightened into a thin line. "George," Karl said tensely. "Are you really..."
"Sorry, Karl, I just..."
The normal, logical part of George was screaming that he wasn't about to let this weirdo treat him like a dog. But the dark, needy part of him was insisting something very different: it was telling him that Dream's condescending tone sounded hot, and his confidence was sexy, and that running to obey his summoning would feel so good.
"Just give me a minute, okay?" George squeezed Karl's arm apologetically, handed him his drink, then turned and walked towards Dream.
George dragged his feet, just so he wouldn't seem too eager, and he could see something twitch in Dream's jaw with every slow step he took.
He was annoying Dream.
George folded his arms, trying to match Dream's irritation in his expression. "Yeah? What?"
Dream pointed down again, with a slow sigh. "My shoelace, Gogy. Tie it."
Sure enough, his boot lacing had come undone. George was already going to be on his knees at Dream's feet again. For a moment, he could almost smell the leather. He could almost feel it under his lips.
George swallowed hard, and scoffed, "Your shoelace, really? What are you, five?"
But George knelt. There, on his knees, in the light shining out from the glass backdoors, he tied Dream's bootlace. George hurried to get back up, his tongue ready with more snarky comments, but Dream's hand on his shoulder shoved him back down.
"Being a brat doesn't change that you're still obeying me, Gogy," he said softly, leaning down to bring his face close to George's. "Acting like it's such a goddamn chore for you doesn't change that you're still doing it." He smiled wickedly. "Pretending you don't like this won't make it go away. Keep it up, and you'll only manage to earn yourself a good old-fashioned attitude adjustment."
Words were lost to George for a moment. Finally, he managed, "Attitude...attitude adjustment? What the hell-"
"Keep it up and find out," Dream straightened, taking his hand from George's shoulder, and George scrambled to his feet. "And from now on, when I give you an order, you respond with "yes, Master," understand?"
It took a great deal of self-control not to roll his eyes at Dream again. "You're really pushing it..." George growled. Then, when he saw Dream's eyebrow twitch, so he added sarcastically, "Master."
Dream shook his head. "Keep it up, Gogy. I know you need some discipline in your life. You'll earn it soon enough."
Dream entered the house, holding the door open long enough for George to slip in after him. Discipline...what the hell? George wasn't sure what Dream meant by that, but he was suddenly, urgently determined to find out.
Dream got swept into a conversation with some friends of his, and George stood awkwardly behind Dream, trying to pretend he wasn't really with him. Karl rejoined them, but this time, with Dream's back turned, Karl seized George's arm and dragged him into the kitchen.
"Okay, literally, what the hell are you doing?" he said. "You don't have to do the goddamn dare, George. Like...I will fight him -"
"No, no, Karl, it's okay, just..." George had no doubt Karl would fight Dream, but he didn't need Karl to defend him like that. "Look, just...enjoy the party.. okay? Tubbo and Ranboo are here, you could-"
"Woah, woah, hold on," his frown deepened. "Are you like...are you into this? Because literally nothing is stopping you from just not following Dream. He can't force you to do shit but you're, like..." Karl wrinkled his nose. "George, if this is some weird fantasy thing..." Karl shook his head. "Look, I knew you were lying when you said you weren't into Dream. You made out with him. You were into him, okay? And that's fine, whatever, no judgement. But just like..." He lowered his voice, as if anyone could even hear them over the party's noise. "If you're trying to get with him you have to let me know. Like I think it's really weird, but...I'm not gonna cock block you."
George's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. He wasn't "into" Dream, that was ridiculous, that was...that was...
George sighed heavily. "You don't have to worry about me, okay? I'm just...I'm gonna try this...dare thing..."
Karl rolled his eyes, but his laughter took the edge off. "Dare thing? You mean you're going to try the whole being-his-slave thing? That's like...super kinky, ya' know?"
It was, George knew it was. Every interaction he had with Dream that night had been so charged with sexual tension it was agonizing. Although, from the outside, the way they interacted with each other showed nothing but hatred. The teasing words, the humiliation, the taunting - it all added to the erotic energy building up inside George. His drive to keep escalating the situation felt desperate, and ridiculous, but George had been given a taste of something new and he had to explore it.
"Yeah, it's...it's weird," George said. "I know. I can't...I can't really explain it."
Karl waved his hand, and handed George back the drink he earlier left with him. "No worries, George. I'll keep an eye out. Text me if you need me, okay?"
Karl hugged George tight before he walked away. Thank God for Karl. As opinionated as he was, he kept any judgements he passed to himself. After tonight, maybe they could both have a good laugh about it. Maybe George would file this away as just another weird experience and move on with his life as if none of it had happened. He'd forget about Dream - forget about his orders, his cocky smile, his boots...he would go back to just being George NotFound, who had his life together, who was popular and normal and not-at-all into weird kinky s.εﾒ shit. George slipped back into the other room, but not before Dream noticed his absence. The friends Dream has been talking to had moved on, but Dream's eyes were scanning around the room, and locked on George the moment they found him.
"Sorry," George stepped up beside Dream, taking a long sip on his drink. "Had to go pee."
"In the kitchen?" Dream said dryly. "I think you're done with that."
"Um, excuse me?" George glared at him in disbelief as Dream pulled George's drink out of his hands, took a small sip, and tossed it in the trash. "What the fuck, dude? I wasn't finished-"
"You're finished because I say you're finished," Dream said softly, leaning nearer to George so he could hear him above the music and loud conversation. "I don't want you getting drunk, Gogy."
"What the fuck," George stomped his foot, throwing up his arms. "Are you just trying to ruin the night for me? I can't wander around, I can't drink. Are you just trying to be a dick to me?"
"Aww, is poor little Gogy bored?" Dream gave George's chin a little bump with his knuckle, and George was tempted to snap his teeth at Dream's hand. "Go get me a beer then."
"Ugh, fuck you!" George rolled his eyes and stomped his feet heavily as he took two steps back toward the kitchen - before Dream stopped him.
"George."
George glared back at Dream. "What, Dream?"
"Crawl."
George blinked rapidly. "I'm sorry, I must have misheard you. What?"
A slow, pleased smile spread across Dream's face. "You heard me just fine, Gogy. Crawl. Crawl into the kitchen, get my beer, and crawl back. And remember your goddamn manners."
He couldn't be serious. He couldn't think George would actually...actually crawl... in front of all these people...he couldn't. His words from earlier echoed in George's head - I know you need some discipline in your life. You'll earn it soon enough.
If George disobeyed, would he earn that discipline Dream mentioned?
Dream leaned against the wall behind him, calm, straight-faced. "I'm waiting, Gogy. I'm awfully thirsty."
George marched back at him and jabbed his finger against Dream's chest - his hard, surprisingly muscular chest. "You are crazy if you think I'm gonna crawl through this goddamn party to get you a goddamn beer, in front of all these goddamn people-"
Dream caught George's wrist, stopping his angry jabbing. "Now, now, George. You're making a scene. You're making even more people watch you. You're making it that much worse for when you do, eventually, obey."
"I'm not going to obey you, asshole-"
"Then why are you still here? I thought you could handle it?" His grip on George's wrist was loose, gentle enough that George could have easily pulled away from Dream.
George could feel the calluses on Dream's palms, the roughness on his fingers. He could even smell him: Dream was sweet, like a cigar, mingled with a masculine cologne that was fresh but musky. George was fixated on that smell. It was filling his head, intoxicating him. It made him want to get closer to Dream, it made him want to press his face against Dream's chest and inhale deeply, completely envelop himself in Dream. But George couldn't give away how intrigued he was. He couldn't seem too eager. Just like he couldn't obey without putting up a fuss.
"I can handle it just fine," George muttered.
"Oh, is that so?" Dream said, his eyes narrowing. He was still so calm. His voice hadn't gone up in volume; he hadn't even changed his position from casually leaning against the wall. "I can't force you to do anything, Gogy. You can easily walk away, especially since you seem to be so angry about these orders. But...you're not walking away. You're standing here, arguing with me. Throwing a tantrum. Trying to make me change my mind and take back my order. But I'm not taking it back. You're going to do it, Gogy. You're going to obey, because you want to, no matter how much you try to hide it. Go - crawl and get my beer."
George grit his teeth, his hands balled into fists at both sides. Something squirmed inside George, a frightening and unexpected thing: it was that tight, tingling pleasure, the joy of being put in his place, the excitement of finding all his struggling to be absolutely useless.
George didn't want to leave. He didn't want to walk away. He felt as if he was trying to work up the courage to pierce his own ears: George knew he wanted it. He knew it was going to hurt. He just had to do it, just stab the needle through.
He'd obey. Of course he'd obey.
George got a little closer to Dream's face. Close enough that, for a moment, his breath stuttered in his chest.
But George's voice was steady. "So sorry about my manners, Master. I'll go get your beer at once, Master." Sarcasm dripped from his voice. George couldn't help it, and one last sassy retort fought it's way past his lips, "Oh, yeah, and fuck you, Master."
George didn't want to linger around and see what came from that last sentence. With his jaw clenched tight, George dropped to his knees, then placed his palms against the floor. So many drunk, stumbling people; he'd be lucky if he didn't get his fingers stomped on. George could imagine the weird looks he'd get, the laughter at his expense, how everyone would be looking down at him. George's stomach knotted up and his arousal was basking in the humiliation.
Behind him, George heard that infuriating voice speak again, "Rudeness carries consequences, George. Hurry up."
George shuffled forward, tapping at people's legs to make them move for him. His short skirt wasn't ideal for crawling in: bent over on his hands and knees, the hem was tugged up high enough that anyone could easily see his ass and, if they looked close enough, they would definitely be getting a peek at his dick too.
Consequences...discipline...George knew something had to be coming. He would push and push, determined to see Dream reach the edge of his patience. There was beast in Dream, beyond the calm; it was vicious and dangerous and George wanted nothing more than to draw it out. George had seen it that day Dream had gotten expelled, when he finally pulled a knife on the assholes who had poked at him for years. That was the beast George wanted, that was the Dream he had to experience. George couldn't fully explain the desire, not yet. But maybe once it was fulfilled, he'd understand.
George reached the cooler and knelt next to it. He was blushing, breathless, his stomach in knots. Maybe if he dunked his whole head in the cooler it would go away, or maybe it would just shock some sense into him. George plunged his hand into the cold, watery ice and pulled out a beer. The bottle was freezing cold, the glass dripping. George could hold it in his hand as he crawled...maybe grip the cap with his teeth...tuck it in his bra? How the hell was he supposed to crawl and carry his beer?
"Fuck this," George whispered, and stood up. He snatched a bottle opener from the counter, popped the cap, and took a long, much-needed drink. The cold, bitter liquid slid down his throat and soothed his tension.
Dream would punish him for this. George had no doubt. Whatever "consequences" and "discipline" meant to him, George was about to find out.
You know you want it. The evil little voice chuckled in George's head. He'll punish you for breaking the rules of the game, for being a bad, disobedient boy. He'll punish you in front of everyone, make you cry...
George shook himself. Chills had gone over his arms at the thought, all the muscles in his lower abdomen throbbing. His own brain was turning against him. Thoughts of Dream shaking his head in disappointment, calling George a bad boy, telling him to bend over his knee-
No, no, no. Stop. Bad thoughts, bad thoughts! He'd start dripping again if he wasn't careful.
Walking back to Dream on his own two feet, instead of crawling, felt much naughtier than it should have. Dream was right where George left him, laughing over something a girl with dyed pink hair had said to him. A surprising pang of jealousy shot through George, even though she walked away as he approached.
"I thought I gave you an order, Gogy," Dream said, a smile playing around his mouth as George walked up beside him. "Found your feet awfully quick."
George would have taken another swig of the beer but as Dream scolded him, George smiled, brought the bottle back to his lips, and spat the mouthful of beer back in. Then he shoved it into Dream's hands. "Oh right, sorry. I forgot about the whole "no drinking" thing. Forgot about crawling too." George shrugged. "Oopsie."
Dream's smile seemed frozen on his face. It was unnerving, and suddenly George wondered if this was really a good idea. He was upholding his end of the dare - but only barely. How long could Dream possibly tolerate this from George? Would Dream just walk away, calling the whole thing off? Or could he actually "handle George," as he had claimed. Dream took a sip of beer and George's stomach turned. He spat in that bottle and it didn't even phase Dream.
"Oh, Gogy. Gogy, Gogy, Gogy. I get it. I do. And don't worry: this'll get handled properly."
George frowned in complete confusion. "What...what do you get? What do you mean handled...?"
"This bratty behavior over every little order can't continue," Dream said, almost sadly. "Trust me, it's funny as hell to watch you struggle with yourself and try to save your pride by cursing and acting angry, but..." he shrugged. "But it really defeats the purpose of the game. I need to see better obedience from you and, well...I think there's only one way to get it."
George shuffled his feet nervously. Could anyone else hear the conversation? Was anyone watching him get scolded like a naughty kid? George told himself that no one was, but the idea was still there, gnawing at his pride.
George lowered his voice, suddenly self-conscious. "Look, I'm...sorry...okay? I'm sorry. Doing this is weird and-"
"You're doing it willingly, Gogy," he said gently. "I'm not going to accept any of the excuses you come up with for being such a brat. I won't tolerate that behaviour." Dream said it so sweetly, but George's heart began to pound. Dream really meant it. He was actually going to punish George for this. George's eyes darted around, looking for an escape...until he realized there was no escape. George wanted this. He had willingly fought with Dream every step of the way and now...he was going to let Dream punish him.
"I need you to be a good, obedient boy for me," Dream said, as George's eyes grew wider and his heart thumped harder, and his breath began to come in quick, shallow bursts. "That was the deal you agreed to. I think you want to be good for me, Gogy." Dream reached out, and his fingers brushed softly, slowly, along George's chin. His touch was cool, and goosebumps prickled up George's back.
