Governor (Governor Trilogy 1)

by Lesli Richardson

  “I’ll get an A,” I insist.

  She sets her notebook aside, on the coffee table. “You’re tense,” she says to me. “You need to relax. We need to get you through this nervous phase so you can focus.”

  Her hand closes around my cock, which makes me flinch. A startled gasp escapes me.

  Yeah, that’s not going to help me focus.

  She pulls me back against her. “Relax, boy,” she says as her hand slowly strokes me. “Let’s take care of this.”

  “Reward should usually follow the action,” Carter drawls. “Not precede it.” He’s set his laptop on the coffee table and turns to watch us. His hands close around my shins, pinning me in place. “Eyes on her, boy.”

  I tip my head back a little and find myself looking up into her blue gaze. I know she’s mentioned previous boyfriends before, but I never asked for details. Apparently she is not unfamiliar with a cock. Maybe her technique isn’t as skilled as Carter’s, but then again, he’s got one of his own he’s had plenty of time to practice on.

  I’m not sure if I’m allowed to come or not, because she hasn’t said so. But if she keeps that up, permission isn’t going to be the issue.

  “Is he allowed to come?” Carter asks, as if reading my mind.

  “Oh, yeah. You can come.”

  It doesn’t take me long to comply. I try to keep my eyes open as long as I can before they finally fall closed as the force of my climax carries me away. This is a fantasy come true, Her sweet warmth pressed against me as her hand grants me pleasure.

  As I lie there trying to catch my breath, Carter clears his throat.

  My eyes pop open. “Thank you, Ma’am,” I say.

  She smiles down at me. “You’re very welcome, boy. Let’s clean up, you can put shorts on, and then we’ll show Carter you are perfectly capable of studying some more.”

  Of course I will. I’ll do anything she asks of me.

  Carter smirks. “That’s it. Spoil the boy, why don’t you?” Again, it’s amusement that tinges his tone.

  Susa once again sticks her tongue out at him, and a sharp edge appears in his gaze.

  “Keep that up, pet, and you might find yourself in cuffs.”

  She tosses him a smirk of her own before untangling herself from me and heading to the kitchen to wash her hands.

  I’m somehow managing to sit up. Carter releases my legs, and I look to him to make sure this is okay.

  He reaches over and ruffles my hair. “You heard her, boy. Clean up, and put on shorts. I can see I’ll have to be the mean Dom to her good Domme.”

  I manage to stand without falling over. “You’re not mean, Sir.”

  “Oh, you haven’t seen me mean, yet, boy. Maybe one day, when I think you can handle it.”

  If I haven’t seen mean yet, I’m not sure if I want to.

  Right now, I need to get cleaned up so I can study, because absolutely I want to prove Susa right.

  But I stop and turn before I’ve even taken a couple of steps. “Sir, does this mean I belong to Her now?”

  “I’m still at the top of the food-chain, if that’s your question, boy. Unless you don’t want me there.”

  Fear flashes through me, and I shove it away. “I still want you there, Sir.”

  He nods. “Good, because that’s where I want to be.”

  I head to the bathroom to clean up, my brain struggling to process this latest development.

  Make no mistake about it, I’m loving it.

  I’m just…processing.

  * * * *

  Yes, I did study, thank you very much. By late Saturday, Susa’s given me my first spanking with Carter closely supervising and critiquing her technique. It becomes easier to relax when naked around her, too.

  Might be because the two of them gave me three orgasms before lunch, leaving me literally drained.

  As Carter warned me, I am growing accustomed to this, finding it easier to focus only on him—or Her, as warranted.

  While I do a lot of studying this weekend, there is also a lot of talking—and a lot of cathartic crying on my part that I know, somehow, I need to get over. By the time late Sunday afternoon rolls around, I’m exhausted and feel like I’m about to drop.

  Carter studies me. “I think I need to take you back to the dorm,” he says. “Would you mind if I ran you home and came back here?”

  I’m at that nearly numb point, but unlike earlier points in my life, this numbness isn’t because I’m in so much emotional pain that I’m trying to protect myself from it.

  This time, it feels like I’ve scrubbed myself raw in good ways, sloughing off dead flesh so that tender, fresh skin is now exposed and needs time to acclimate.

  This is the good kind of numb.

  “That’s fine, Sir.” I don’t even know what time it is.

  I get dressed and Susa hugs me, long and hard. “See you tomorrow morning, boy,” she says, kissing my cheek.

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  I sit slumped in the passenger seat as he drives me home in my car. We’d taken mine today, and I don’t care if Carter drives me or not. The two of us switch vehicles back and forth so often now that we each have keys for the other’s car on our own key rings.

  I think he’s going to just let me out when we arrive, but he parks and won’t let me carry my own stuff. He accompanies me upstairs and once we’re safely locked behind our door, he sits with me on my bed and holds me for a minute.

  “Why am I so exhausted?” I ask.

  “Because this is hard work you’re doing. And I’m really damn proud of you for doing it, too.”

  Hell, I’m too tired to even perk up over that praise. “Thank you, Sir.”

  He kisses the top of my head. He does that more often, and I don’t mind in the least. He’s affectionate with me, and I know he’s right that I’ve got “skin hunger” from going so many years without.

  “Okay, boy. I want you to spend the rest of the evening relaxing, napping, watching TV, whatever. Chill out. Complete free time. You can snack if you want to, but I’ll bring you dinner in a few hours.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  He makes me look him in the eyes. He does this sometimes, forcing me to meet his gaze and not letting me go until I have. More conditioning, more acclimating me to intimacy.

  Not allowing me to escape the hard work.

  I love him for it, too. Maybe this is why we were destined to meet, so I can become a better person with him, and with Susa, in my life.

  We sit there like that for at least a minute. “You don’t even have to put on the tether today, if you don’t want to. Or your cuffs and collar. Not until tonight.”

  I nod. “Yes, Sir. Thank you.”

  He drops one more kiss on the top of my head before he heads out again. I still strip, because as Carter warned me, it feels weird to be dressed now when I’m behind closed doors. Plus, bonus, it saves on laundry.

  As I lie there and channel surf, despite my exhaustion I can’t get comfortable. Something’s…missing.

  Finally, after about fifteen minutes, I dig the tether out of the storage tub and connect it to the leg of my bed. I don the leather collar, cuffs, and attach the tether to my right ankle.

  Peace settles over me, and I find myself quickly dozing off, the TV softly playing on, unwatched.

  Chapter Thirty

  The addition of Susa to what Carter and I have only makes it better. I start to relax even as I’m learning new things, and Carter adds more protocols and rituals to our daily routine. I lay out his clothes for him. When we’re together, I wait for permission from him—or Susa, if Carter’s not there—to eat. I end up sleeping in his bed more often than not now because of his nightmares. It’s a tight fit, but to be honest, I’ve found I sleep better like that, too.

  When Carter suggests maybe removing the tether requirement except for at night, I unexpectedly burst into tears that he comforts me through before quietly telling me the rule can stay in place.

  I know it’s
weird, but I like it. I like the tangible connection to Carter, and Susa, by extension.

  The day collar hasn’t been off for more than a few hours here and there. He checks the lock every day, though, and bought a small bottle of 3-in-1 oil to make sure the lock doesn’t freeze up from going through a shower or two every day.

  Nearly two weeks after the revised new world order has taken effect with Susa added to the mix, another impact jars my bubble of contentment, courtesy of Carter.

  Keep in mind that, while I’ve conversed some with my father via Facebook Messenger, I haven’t seen the man in over ten years. Since after the divorce, since he moved to Las Vegas.

  Since he got a new family.

  I also have no contact with any family on his side. His parents died when I was little. He has a couple of brothers and sisters, and I apparently have cousins aplenty, some of whom even live in Florida, but fuck if I know any of them.

  Thanks, Mom.

  Dad’s first marriage lasted less than a year and they had no kids. Then he met Mom and, a few years later, they had me.

  Then they imploded in a way that made the Hindenburg disaster look like a dry fart.

  Hi, haha, your first family was fucked up—mulligan! Hit your save point and respawn, motherfucker.

  Oh, your oldest son? Don’t worry about him. We gave him a—checks note just handed in—wait, sorry. Our bad. Your ex is a totally vengeful narcissist. Honestly? It’s too late for him, now. Save yourself while you can.

  Because of course there are plenty of why didn’t he take me with him thoughts to spare in my cranium.

  Why didn’t he fight harder for me?

  Logically, I know that he was probably overwhelmed by Mom and the force of…her. God knows I’ve been overwhelmed by her my whole damn life. Countless times. To the point it’s usually easier to just give in and knuckle under.

  Before I met Carter, that is.

  That’s why it shocks the hell out of me when Carter makes the announcement that Thursday evening that we are, in fact, flying to Las Vegas.

  That not only are we flying out, we’re leaving tomorrow, Friday, right after class.

  And, oh, yeah, they’ve already purchased my ticket.

  I’d been sitting on the floor in front of Susa’s couch, leaning against it, my head resting against Susa’s leg while I read a textbook. I’m sure if I could see myself that I’d probably laugh at how goddamned ridiculous a sight I must be—naked, collared, sitting there with Susa playing with my hair while she reads like I’m a poodle or something.

  But it’s become my favorite place to sit.

  I blink, confused over Carter’s announcement. “What did you say?”

  “It’s your little brother’s birthday this weekend, and they’re having a party. You’ve been invited. I told your dad you’d be there.”

  “Wait…what?”

  Not a hint of teasing in his expression. “What words confused you, boy?”

  “The whole goddamned sentence.” I close my book. “For starters, how do you even know about Danny’s birthday? I didn’t even know that.”

  “I looked up your father on Facebook a few weeks back, friended him, and I’ve been talking to him.”

  I honestly don’t have a response for that. For any of it. I feel a little…betrayed.

  Susa shifts position, draping her legs over my shoulders, which effectively traps me against the couch because she knows damn well I never want to move when she sits like that.

  “It’s a gift from me,” she says. “I want you to spend the time with him.” She starts stroking my hair again. “You should get to know your little brother and sister.”

  I’m still staring at Carter. “I thought you said we’re flying out.”

  “We are. All three of us. We’ll share a hotel room. I’m renting the car. We’ll drive you over to your dad’s place and pick you up. Your little brother and sister are really eager to meet you.”

  I wonder when they concocted this plan. They’ve had plenty of time to do it, I suppose. Besides the Sunday nearly two weeks ago, where I ended up sleeping five hours straight until Carter returned with my dinner and had to wake me up, they’ve had a few evenings together. Either Carter drives to Susa’s separately, or he drives me home and returns, or I leave Carter there and Susa brings him home.

  “Your dad really wants to see you,” Carter says. “He was afraid to ask you to come visit before because of your mom. He didn’t want to cause you trouble with her. I assured him that’s no longer an issue.”

  Technically not true, but my allowance has continued to appear on schedule, so I’m going to keep listening to Carter.

  “I-I can’t afford this.”

  “I can,” Susa says, leaning in to rest her chin on top of my head. “This is happening. Period. We didn’t want to tell you until tonight because we didn’t want you working yourself into a frantic panic.”

  “When we get back to the dorm tonight,” Carter says, “we’ll pack.”

  And…that’s that.

  I’m too stunned to really ask questions.

  When we leave later that evening, we’re riding in the Snot Box. Carter drove tonight.

  I finally ask him. “Why did you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Contact my father?”

  “Because I wanted to see what kind of man he was before letting him back into your life. You already have one completely toxic parent. You don’t need another one.”

  “Before…letting him back into my life?”

  “Yes.” His matter-of-fact tone would be borderline maddening if this wasn’t Carter and I wasn’t used to it.

  And, oh, I wasn’t collared to the man.

  “You didn’t think I might want input into this?”

  “Yes, but I knew you’d come up with a thousand anxiety-based excuses that all can be boiled down to ‘Owen doesn’t want to piss off Mom.’ Your sister and brother are young. They have a right to get to know you, and you them. Your dad admits he’s not perfect, but says he didn’t want to make life harder for you with her.”

  I’m still…stunned.

  “How did you explain your involvement in my life to him?”

  “The truth—I’m your roommate, your best friend, and I’ve adopted you as my little brother. I’m almost eight years older than you, and have a much better perspective on this whole thing than you do. Oh, and that I despise your mother and how she treats you.”

  He grins.

  Literally grins.

  Carter doesn’t grin very often.

  Speechless, I sit back and do what I’ve become accustomed to doing since this started, and that means doing exactly what Carter tells me to do.

  * * * *

  Carter has to unlock my collar and remove it before we pass through the TSA checkpoint because he doesn’t want to hold up the line having me manually checked. He relocks it around my neck when we reach the other side.

  His Achilles’ heel shows up as our plane pulls away from the gate in Tampa and taxis to the runway. I’ve flown a couple of times, and Susa’s apparently got frequent flyer miles.

  Carter, however, appears legit terrified.

  I’ve vacillated between hating them and loving them ever since the revelation last night, but this is a new and unexpected wrinkle.

  In everything else Carter does, he is completely unflappable.

  Until now.

  I’m sitting in the middle, with Carter on the aisle and Susa at the window. She’s already donned a sleep mask and one of those U-shaped travel pillows is around her neck. If it wasn’t for her hand settling on my thigh, I’d think she was already asleep.

  He doesn’t speak much during the flight, doesn’t settle in to read, the way I do, or sleep, like Susa. He orders a soda water to drink and then basically sits there with his hands wrapped around his armrests.

  He is terrified, even though he’s trying to hide it.

  Ironically, that makes me feel better. This Carter I know how
to deal with, because I’m the one who’s spent months helping him through nightmares.

  That’s why, only thirty minutes into our flight, I pry his right hand off his armrest and put it on my left thigh, patting the top of his hand before I focus on my Kindle again.

  He gives my thigh a little squeeze and leaves his hand right there.

  If I can be a comfort to him, all the better.

  Once we reach Las Vegas, Carter takes over renting the car, because he’s older than we are. Which is a weird thing to think about, because Susa acts older than me.

  I default to taking the backseat after holding the passenger door for Susa. When the three of us are together and Carter’s driving, that’s our standard permutation. If I’m driving, Carter rides shotgun. Our first stop after the airport is a mystery, until we pull into the parking lot of a steakhouse.

  “What are we doing here?”

  “I don’t know,” Carter snarks. “I thought maybe spa treatments, pedicures. What do you think, boy? Dinner.”

  “I…I can’t afford this.”

  Carter turns, a stern look on his face. “Boy, stop. I’m paying—”

  Susa clears her throat.

  Carter rolls his eyes. “Susa’s paying for dinner tonight.”

  A laugh chuffs free from me at the interplay between them. She can get away with bratty behavior like that with Carter, stuff I would never try. I’ve even heard her call him Sir a few times in a non-sarcastic way, like what I’m doing is rubbing off on her, but I’ve never seen Carter take her in hand like he does me.

  I’m not privy to what goes on between them alone, however. Part of me suspects maybe she’s trying things first-hand to make her a better Top.

  I’ve been told I can ask Carter any questions I want, but he might decline to answer if it’s going to violate anything she’s asked him not to talk about.

  That means I haven’t and won’t ask. I’d rather not know.

  They’ve both volunteered a few things to me over the past couple of weeks, stuff they’ve discussed. That’s good enough.