by L. E. Harner
I leveled my gaze at Archer. “You’re going to have to trust me on this one.”
“Don’t make it sound as if I have a problem trusting you, Zachary, but I feel at least somewhat responsible for what he has suffered. Young Jeremiah came to us expecting to be trained as a submissive. I still believe my reasoning was sound, however flawed you might find the execution of my plan.”
It was unusual for Archer to admit he might have misjudged a situation, but I bit back the smile that threatened. This was a serious discussion, and my inappropriate humor at his expense would definitely not contribute anything of value. Besides, he needed to understand the full ramifications of his choice to bring me a sub.
“It’s irrelevant how we got into this situation. Jeremiah is mine now and I’ll be making the decisions regarding his activities.” Archer’s eyes narrowed and the little tick in his jaw signaled his annoyance.
“There is a big difference between a submissive and a slave. Jeremiah has choices.” His voice held a hard edge of reproof and frown lines formed between his brows.
“Yes, he does. And so do I, Archer.” I responded only after I’d done a slow count to ten, speaking softly, knowing my words had the power to hurt. The blue-green eyes widened and he looked at me in a way that told me he’d forgotten. Like he looked at me fifteen years ago when I’d walked into his club to apply for a job. I nodded in silent acknowledgment. He’d said he brought Jeremiah here to give me a submissive, but maybe he’d lost sight of who I was. Maybe we both had.
“You forgot,” I said quietly. “We might tease each other from time to time about how long it took you to convince me to play the submissive, but there’s more to it than that. This is not the same as watching me do a scene with a submissive club member. Those were men who needed to give up temporary control in a safe environment. We all enjoyed the scenes, but none of them were mine. I cared for them through the few hours we spent together, but at the end of the night, I went home alone. Until you convinced me otherwise. I haven’t had my own sub since—”
I swallowed hard and forced myself to meet his gaze. “I haven’t had a real relationship with a submissive since Daniel died.”
“Oh, Zachary, I—”
Shaking my head, I cut him off. “No, Archer—what’s done, is done. The boy is here and for the next year, he’s mine. It’ll be something we need to deal with. In fact—” I took a deep breath, knowing the power in our relationship was about to shift.
“Archer, I’m not sure you fully anticipated how the dynamics in our relationship would change. Maybe the change wouldn’t have been as dramatic without this problem with Delaware…but here we are. You will have to trust me.” I cleared my throat, aware of my accelerated heartbeat. This conversation was far from over, but we had work to do, and this could wait. In fact, waiting would give us both time to think about what this meant for our relationship.
“I’ve told Jeremiah there will be no more hiding—to come downstairs. The next move is his. Not surprisingly, he feels responsible for what happened with George. I think it would do him some good to be involved in the retribution against Delaware. What do you have planned?”
Archer did a slow blink, squared his shoulders, then reached for the carafe. After topping both of our cups, he took a sip. Finally, he started to speak.
“George Delaware is the controller for Harmon Enterprises. He works directly for the chief financial officer Dwight Somerville, who by the way, is an old college acquaintance. Harmon is a large electronics company that got it’s start in the import and export technology business. Primarily with with Taiwan and the west coast, then selling the parts to the Silicone Valley manufacturing companies. Some of their work is on the speculative development of cutting edge technologies. Very sexy, very profitable when a product hits. They were the primary development team involved in the V-4 technology deployed in the next generation tablet devices.”
I nodded, then, as Archer’s gaze drifted over my shoulder, I turned to find Jeremiah standing in the doorway. The boy had followed orders and taken the first step. That deserved to be rewarded.
“Excuse me, just for a minute, Archer.” I turned in my seat to face Jeremiah, giving him my full attention.
I’d been thinking about this for two days. I wasn’t a psychiatrist, however, I’d been in this business a long time. As the manager of the club, I’d handled every crisis you could think of and many more that defied imagination. Skittish subsmissives were a specialty of mine. Most of the time, a new relationship between a Dom and an untrained submissive started off as little tentative, until trust built. With our beginning marred by Jeremiah’s experience with George, it was going to take longer to build the trust. Jeremiah would learn to trust that I saw him…wanted him and would always care for him. Together, we would build trust one step at a time. It was what made domination and submission so appealing. Trusting your partner would always be there to give you exactly what you needed.
“I… Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I should go back upstairs.”
“No, you should come sit down and join us, boy.”
“I… I don’t think I can do that. I’m not a boy.”
“You’re my boy until I say otherwise, Jeremiah. Come. Here. Now.” Push. Reward. Back off. It was a cycle.
The chiseled high cheekbones turned dark red and his green eyes flashed. For a moment I thought he might bolt, then his need pushed his feet forward, and Jeremiah shuffled until he stood just out of arm’s reach. He wore baggy black running pants and a long sleeved navy blue T-shirt. An Atlanta Braves baseball cap sat loosely on his bare head, the bill pulled down low, hiding the shaved eyebrows.
“Good job, boy. Now come stand next to me, I want to look at you.”
“But I––”
I let out a little growl and reached forward to circle my fingers around Jeremiah’s wrist. With a little tug, he stumbled forward, and nearly landed in my lap. That was where I wanted him, eventually. On my lap, sharing food from each other’s fingers.
I reached up quickly and snatched the hat from his head, tossing it on the table. “You don’t need to hide from me. I will always see you for who you are.”
Snaking one arm around his hips I pulled him closer, until his slightly interested cock was pressed against my chest. Jeremiah wasn’t completely freaked out—that was a good thing. I would push him just a little farther, then let it go for now. We had business with George to take care of today. Tonight we would see how the three of us fit together in the bedroom.
Stroking my hand along his inner thigh, I met his gaze for a long moment. I wanted him to feel the truth of my words. “Things have changed for all of us, Jer. We’re going to be doing things a little differently around here. First, you need to know, I’m sorry. I failed you last week.”
Behind me, Asher’s cup hit the table with a clatter, but I didn’t turn. Jeremiah’s arms tightened protectively around his own waist. Without his dark hair and eyebrows, his face was all sharp angles and big, wide eyes. His gaze was fixed on my face, like I was the last moor line on an outgoing tide.
“I’m very sorry for what happened, but I’ll do my best to make it up to you and to teach you what you want to know about the lifestyle.” Archer cleared his throat, but again, I ignored him. It wasn’t that I didn’t care about his opinion—he meant more to me than anyone. But I really did feel we’d failed Jeremiah on many levels. Now that we’d cleared the hurdle of my involvement, we were going to teach him what he should have known from the start.
“There are only two lessons we’re going to focus on, for as long as it takes to get these right. If you’re serious about learning about domination and submission—it’s not about the ropes, the whips, the punishment or pleasure. Those are tools and by-products. If what you’re looking for is full time lifestyle slave and master, then say the word and we’ll take you to Peter or one of the other Masters who specialize in that type of training.”
A shudder jerked all of his muscles, and
he closed his eyes briefly and shook his head.
I stroked a hand over his back to ease the trembling. “Look at me, Jeremiah.” Eyelids fluttered open and his haunted gaze met mine once more. Archer reached over and pressed his hand to my back, and I knew we were in agreement. We would make George Delaware pay for putting that look of fear on Jeremiah’s face. I maintained a steady touch on his hip, meeting his gaze with calm assurance. I knew how to do this.
“Then the first thing we are going to work on is building trust, because in order for this to really work, there needs to be an exchange of power. You choose to submit to me, you trust I will meet your needs. All of your needs. That also means you have to trust me to know what’s best, including how slow or fast we go. There will not be any more running away to find another Dom to train you because you don’t like the pace or don’t get your way. Are we clear on that?”
Jeremiah lowered his gaze again, but his head jerked in affirmation.
“I expect you to answer me verbally unless you are unable to speak. For now, you may address me either as Sir or Zack. I’ll ask you again, are we clear on who makes the decisions?”
Jeremiah’s chin jerked up, his gaze went first over my shoulder to where Archer leaned close to me, then he looked at me and swallowed hard. No one spoke. The tension seemed to thrum around us, as if we all understood the significance of the moment. Jeremiah was making his first real choice about trust. The power was in his hands, and he could withhold it or take the first true step into building our relationship. This was so much more than anything he would have seen at a play party, more than a contract for services.
With a deep sigh, Jeremiah nodded his head once, then seemed to stop himself mid-motion. “Y-yes. Zack,” he whispered. His eyes widened and he blinked rapidly, as if surprised. He cleared his throat. “Yes, Sir.”
Jesus. My dick was hard enough to pound nails. I swallowed a moan. “So fucking hot, Jeremiah.” Archer’s hand on my back changed from a soothing pressure to light, sensuous scratches, and it was all I could do not to arch into his touch.
Remembering there was a second point, I wanted to make, I forced myself to give up thoughts of trundling us all up to the bedroom. That would wait until tonight. Given what he’d been through the last few days, I wanted to give the boy plenty of time to process our discussion. I knew plenty of Doms who would disagree with my tactics, but one of my particular kinks was delayed gratification. We would all wait.
“Where has most of your information about BDSM come from? Someone you know? A club?”
“Uh. You know—I’ve been to a couple of parties. Nothing like what you guys put on, just at one of the frat houses on campus. I saw some movies. I told you I know what it’s about—”
I laughed. “That’s our second lesson, Jeremiah…finding out what works for you. For all of us. As funny as it sounds, what you’ve seen is likely mainstream BDSM. Bondage, humiliation, pain as play. We’ll talk more about your experience, but it’s important to remember, there’s vanilla sex, and then there’s everything else. It’s the biggest fucking menu you ever saw, and the best is when you try something new with someone you care about…who cares about you…” I slipped my hand under the hem of his shirt, just a hint of skin on skin contact. So damn good…I cleared my throat before I continued.
“We have a lot to explore together, but no matter what we do, rule number one always applies. You’ll have a safe word, and I expect you to use it should it ever be necessary. Do you understand?” I pulled him just a little closer, enjoying the fresh soapy scent from his shower. Resisting the urge to settle him on my lap, I looked up expectantly.
“Yes, Sir.” The answer came easier, and so did his breath. Good. This was an excellent first step. Now we had work to do and Jeremiah would help.
“Have a seat and get breakfast, Jeremiah. We’re working on our plan to take Delaware down a few notches.” I quickly recapped Archer’s research. “So, George has access to a lot of money, and he’s possibly vulnerable through his position at his employer.”
Archer nodded. “Harmon Enterprises has a huge operating budget. Recently, the chairman has come under pressure to make some changes to the basic structure of the company. The board wants more emphasis on emerging technologies development and recruiting more top engineers while their reputation is riding this high. That means selling off some of their import lines and at least one of the low-end electronic subsidiaries.”
“In other words, there is a lot of money moving around right now?” I saw where Archer was headed and it was a brilliant plan.
“Exactly. And it wouldn’t surprise me if it comes to light tomorrow that George has misappropriated some of those funds and is making plans to retire outside the country.”
“Excellent. What do you need us to do?”
Chapter Five
When I left the house an hour later, Archer and Jeremiah were bent over the full array of our computer systems. Their geeky dialog followed me out the door, leaving me smiling. For the first time in several days, Jeremiah was no longer thinking about himself, but focused on work. Thinking about the two of them working together had me smiling all the way across town, until I parked on the street in one of those neighborhoods Atlanta hopes the tourists never find.
Armed with copies of George’s legitimate driver’s license, his social security number, and a few other unique bits of personally identifiable information, I pushed my way into the cool air of a busy pawnshop. After nodding at the burly clerk who worked the counter closest to the door, I walked straight through, pausing only long enough to hear the buzz of the release mechanism on the security door before I pushed through to the back room.
I ignored the organized chaos of items either coming in or going out, and moved deeper into the bowels of the former market until I got to the old walk-in freezer that my cousin converted to an office for his paper business. The damn thing made me claustrophobic as hell, but that was only one of the reasons we rarely met on his turf.
“Zachary,” Carmine said, clapping his arm over my shoulders. “What’s shaking? You need some paper, huh? That’s a little backwards, isn’t it?”
“Nothing gets by you, Carmine. How’s Lida?”
“Ah…well, you know how it is with women.” He grinned as I stared, nonplussed. “Well, maybe you don’t. She says we never have enough money, so I come to work. Then she bitches because I missed mass. I can’t win for losing.”
I grinned. “When are you going to quit buying your clothes at St. Joseph’s annual rummage sale? Every time you go you find your next ex-wife.”
“Yeah.” He grabbed his crotch and humped the air. “But, damn those Catholic girls really do it for me…they all want to make a better man out of me. And they won’t give it up without a ring. What else can I do?”
Laughing, I shrugged off his hug and moved to his worktable. Carmine was the best papermaker in Atlanta. Hell, he was the best anywhere on the East Coast outside of Miami and New York. Usually, he could help me track someone down just by looking at the false papers. All the paperhangers and forgers left their own mark—if you knew where to look.
“All right, you’re in a hurry. I get that.” Carmine was all business as he perched his cheaters on the end of his nose and took the documents I held out. He flipped through the copies.
“Oh yeah, this is good. I can work with this. What do you need?”
“What can you give me by tonight?”
His eyes narrowed and lips pursed together. “I can definitely get the driver’s license if you want one from a state I already have on file. Social Security card is no problem. Passport is a lot tougher. I got one almost finished but the dude is set to pick up on Thursday. It would really set me back to use it on your guy. Is he worth it? Are you running a sting?”
“Yeah, but not like you think. This is personal, he took something—someone—who belongs to me. I’ll be paying you with my own money.”
“Holy fuck—Archer? You and Archer split up? I di
dn’t think that was possible.”
“No, not Archer. We’re good. This kid’s name is Jeremiah. Not sure what the hell we’re doing with him, but for better or worse, he seems to be ours. This Delaware dropped a roofie, shaved him, and was planning on turning him into a slave. It wasn’t what Jeremiah wanted, Carmine.” I knew my cousin would understand. We had a lot of history between us.
“Sick fuck. It’s one thing if the guy is into it and asking, but drugging him first? All right, you got the passport. You want some bank papers? Tell Archer to use Nicaragua if he can…I’ve got a sweet set of papers on a three acre villa.”
“Will do…that’s perfect. Thanks, Carmine.”
“Shut the fuck up and get outta here. I’ve got work to do. I’ll drop ‘em off on my way home.”
“Yeah, thanks…” I clapped Carmine on the back, and headed out. Usually we haggled about price, but I knew he’d treat me right, because I’d told him this was personal. That was the thing about family.
*
The planning was done. Archer had hacked into the Harmon Enterprises accounting system with a little help from our good friend Wick. We’d planted a few emails, adjusted some banking information, and arranged for a certain chief financial officer to “discover” some suspicious activity in Delaware’s accounts. Now all there was left to do was wait. And take Jeremiah to our bedroom.
Archer stood, stretched his back and looked around his study. “One more thing, if you would, Zachary?”
“Sure, what do you need?” I looked expectantly at my lover, admiring him in his more casual blue jeans and teal polo. His eyes seemed unusually bright, and I wasn’t sure if it was the thrill of the hunt or anticipation over what might…or might not…happen tonight.
Actually, I was pretty confident that what Archer needed was me. Regardless of what Jeremiah decided, I was getting laid tonight. Archer and I hadn’t had a minute of quality alone time since the blowjob interruptus. I might be a big fan of delayed gratification, but three days was a bit much.