“Will you let me explain?” he asked quietly. “Isis. Will you let me explain why I think that will help?”
“Go fuck yourself,” she muttered with no real conviction.
“Wren, love, I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Jere protested, frowning. “I wish you would have mentioned this, but I don’t think—”
“It’s not about what you think, Jere! It’s about what Wren thinks, and he thinks I need to be on a collar and leash like some kind of stupid fucking animal!” Isis snapped, her voice finally rising. She glared at Wren, the betrayal far worse than the hatred.
“I don’t think that.” If anything, Wren had learned from Jere that speaking softly was the best way to calm Isis down. She didn’t deserve to be yelled at on top of everything else. He waited, letting her glare, sulk, and finally calm down.
“Then what?” she asked, a few minutes later. “What did you want to prove?”
“I think it’s hard for you and Jere to differentiate between you acting like a slave and you acting like yourself,” Wren said carefully. “I can see it all the time and I’m sure you’ve both noticed. Isis, when we try to train, you’re defensive, rude, and abrasive; the rest of the day you’ve started getting jumpy and scared again. I know it’s hard to do both, so I thought that it would make it easier if you and Jere had a clear sign, a prop that can signify when you start and finish. That’s all. I’m not suggesting that you be kept on a collar and leash like an animal, and I’m not suggesting that you deserve to be treated more like a slave. I want both of you to try this out, because I think it could help, and at this point, something has to. If you want to pass this certification, something has to change.”
Isis spent a few moments taking it in and visibly calming before nodding. “I guess I cold see how it could work. I’m not happy about it, though.”
“I know,” Wren agreed. “I’m not either, but we’ll just give it a try. Just for the next week. And if it doesn’t help, you and Jere get all the rights to tease me about how wrong I was, but for now, I think this is really the best plan. For both of you.”
“All right,” Isis conceded. “It’s not gonna lock or anything, is it? You won’t put it on and then not take it off?”
“No,” Wren promised, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t do that. This is just a reminder. You can feel it there; Jere can see it. It’s not going to hurt you, and you’re not going to wear it at any other time except when you’re training.”
Isis nodded, indicating her agreement.
Jere moved to stand. “I’ll get it,” he said quietly.
“No. Sit back down.”
At Wren’s order, Jere dropped without question, though he did look confused.
“She gets it,” Wren informed him. “Let’s start up again. You give the order.”
Jere frowned. “Isis, go on, then, grab it.”
Isis made a noise of disgust, and Wren shook his head. “No. Try again.”
“Isis, please, just get the damn collar,” Jere ordered again.
“Jere, come on!” Wren stopped him. “For real, this time.”
Jere took a moment to glare at Wren before looking at Isis. “Isis, get the collar.”
“Yes, master,” she replied, her tone perfect, unlike Jere’s.
Wren was surprised; enough so that he didn’t want to bother them by making them repeat the interaction again. Isis retrieved the collar, brought it to Jere, and stood in front of him, head down, waiting for orders.
“Get her to kneel and put it on her,” Wren said softly.
“Kneel,” Jere mumbled, looking relieved when Isis dropped to her knees instantly. He took the collar and put it around her neck, carefully pulling her hair out of the way as he fastened it in place. Isis looked tense, but she didn’t fight it.
“I want you both to use this as a reminder,” Wren said. “When the collar is on, you’re master and slave. Both of you are free to act like stereotypes if you need to. You’re not friends, you’re not co-workers, and you don’t care about each other. Jere, you own this slave. Isis, this man is your master. Both of you need to act like it.”
Jere still looked uncomfortable, but Isis seemed motivated. “Can we try again, sir?” she asked, barely loud enough to hear.
“Yeah, I guess,” Jere muttered. “A goddamned collar. Let’s keep trying.”
Chapter 13
How a Slave Should Act
“Wren, I’m not sure what I think about the collar,” Jere whispered after getting into bed. “It seems so cruel.”
“You and Isis both did better in the past three days than you have in the whole week before that,” Wren reminded him. “I’d say it’s a success.”
Jere frowned, looking unhappy. “She doesn’t deserve to be treated like that.”
“No, but she needs it.” Wren came up to sit behind Jere and placed his hands on Jere’s shoulders. “She needs the distinction, and I think you do too. You were both stuck before, and now you’re doing well. Clearly, it’s helping.”
“I don’t see why there couldn’t be a special training hat or something,” Jere continued, sounding just as bitter. “That would be a perfectly good reminder, and a good distraction.”
Wren sighed. As hard as Jere tried, he missed things so much, so easily. “Because you both need to remember that she’s a slave, love, not just that she and you are both supposed to act a certain way. Keep fighting this and I’ll put a whip in your hand and make you hold it the entire time.”
Jere turned around, his face showing his shock. “You wouldn’t!”
Wren grinned. “It would be a powerful reminder,” he countered, knowing that he would never really subject Isis to that much fear. It would be counterproductive; she wouldn’t be able to focus on anything. “It’s just easier if you keep your real roles in mind. She needs you to be consistent, Jere—you’ve got to pay more attention to what she needs from you.”
“I give her everything she needs! I bend over backward for the girl.”
“You do,” Wren soothed him, trailing his hands over his lover’s skin, barely nibbling at his neck with his lips. “You give her everything she needs in our life, but you have to give her what she needs as a master. You have to pay attention, be more firm when she’s doubtful, correct her quickly so things don’t escalate, answer her questions before she has a chance to ask them. It’s part of being a master.”
“It’s a lot of work on me. I didn’t realize that was such a big part of it.”
“It is if you don’t want her to suffer the consequences. Lazy masters can just let their slaves suffer for their mistakes; you won’t do that to her, I know you better than that. So you have to work harder. You rely too much on words and mindspeak and habits that you’ve developed with free people—you need to pay attention to other things too, Jere.”
“Like what? I feel like I’m missing something.”
Wren grinned, a mischievous idea coming into his head. “We’ll practice,” he suggested. “We can start with some body language sorts of things....”
Jere turned his head, catching Wren’s eye over his shoulder. “I think that practicing body language would be a perfect way to spend tonight.”
“Oh, do you?” Wren teased. “Well, there’s more to it than simple body language. How about you start by getting rid of those clothes for me and then we’ll see where we can go from there.”
Jere smiled, jumping to his feet immediately and starting to remove his shirt. “I like this plan already. What’s the next step?”
Wren stood, grabbing him around the waist and pulling him close, kissing him as roughly as he grabbed him. “Get down on your knees. Try to at least approximate a proper slave kneel.”
With a smile, Jere obeyed, moving into something similar to a proper attentive kneeling position. Wren nodded his approval, then went around Jere’s body, positioning his knees a little differently, moving his arms where they needed to be, turning his head to face forward instead of looking around.
He could tell by the shivers that Jere was enjoying it, and he felt quite proud of himself when he finished, placing Jere exactly where he wanted him. “Good,” he said, smiling. “This is what a proper kneeling position should feel like and look like. Remember it. Maybe I’ll quiz you some time. Now stay like that until I come back.”
He went to the cabinet where they kept all of their sex toys, plotting out how he wanted the night to go. He had two goals in mind: to have mind-blowing sex with the man he loved, and to give Jere some pointers about slave behavior and the importance of reading body language. He saw no reason why he shouldn’t multitask.
“I wish I had bought a collar for you,” Wren commented, rooting around their toy box for something suitable.
Jere was naked and kneeling where Wren had left him, at the end of the bed. “We could use the one we bought for Isis?” he suggested, smirking.
Wren laughed at that idea. “She would kill us. She would find out that we used something of hers for one of our—how does she put it? Fucked-up sex games? And then she would kill us. Or whine us to death.”
He finally settled on a belt, having had one used as a collar and leash combination on him plenty of times in the past. The prospect of using it on Jere was far more appealing. He checked the buckle to make sure that it wouldn’t get stuck or pinch at Jere’s neck, and found it satisfactory. He went over and sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at his lover. He reached out, giving Jere’s face a familiar caress.
“Are you ready to learn how a slave should act?”
Jere nodded, a shiver going through his body at the thrill of the question. It was a little intimidating, imagining himself as a slave to Wren, but he trusted Wren to be kind with him. Or to be cruel, but in the most sexy cruel way possible.
“Good,” Wren said. “But a formal slave should answer out loud. A casual nod might be acceptable, but a formal answer should be given in formal settings.”
“Like the certification?” Jere assumed, trying not to wrinkle his nose up.
“Yes. If Isis gets to nodding and shaking her head there, you need to remind her to answer vocally.”
Jere squirmed at the idea. “I don’t like it.”
“I didn’t say you had to beat her or anything, I just said remind her,” Wren pointed out. “A simple order to answer out loud is adequate.”
Jere hadn’t even considered hurting her as a reminder; it was the very idea of ordering her to speak when nodding was perfectly adequate that offended him. “Still don’t like it.”
“Tough.” Wren fastened the belt around Jere’s neck, slipping the end through the buckle and pulling it snug against Jere’s skin. “You both need to do as you’re told.”
Jere smiled at the feeling of leather against his skin. “I like that,” he decided, pulling against the belt a little bit to see how tight he could get it. The soft leather and the light constriction around his neck had his heart racing.
“It feels a lot different when you’re not allowed to take it off. For real, not for fun. And it hurts when it’s on too tight, or left on for days. Or months.”
Jere noticed the slight resentment in Wren’s voice. “I know,” he said, reaching out to run his hand over Wren’s leg. “I’ve seen it, and I’ve seen enough of Isis’s memories to know how awful it is. This and other things. I appreciate the fact that you even do it with me.”
Wren smiled. “It’s nice to play with. It’s really, really bizarre that this is what people in free states do for fun, but I see the appeal. At least I do with you. I don’t think I’d ever want to own a slave for real; I just couldn’t imagine it.”
“You’d fit in well in Sonova if you went,” Jere said, thinking about what Kieran had suggested. The moment the words left his mouth, he realized he risked exposing his secret. “I mean, if you could go one day.”
Quickly, he leaned back, pulling against the leash and offering Wren his best seductive glance. “I bet you can use that to pull me right onto your cock,” he suggested, changing the subject.
Wren gave his arm a light swat with the loose end. “Don’t get distracted just yet,” he warned. “There’s supposed to be a purpose to this, remember?”
Jere moved in, nuzzling at Wren’s legs with his face. “Body language,” he recalled. “How slaves act.”
“That’s right,” Wren said, giving him a pat on the head. “Now, here’s the challenge: I’m not going to speak. I’m going to move, and touch you, and get you to do things without saying a single word. You’re going to watch me, and learn how a proper slaveowner moves and acts, and get at least some idea of how a proper slave moves and behaves, and maybe we can go back to talking later. If you’re good.”
“Okay,” Jere agreed, nuzzling at Wren some more.
A few seconds later, he felt Wren go stiff, pulling back a little. Jere leaned back, looking up at Wren in confusion. “Something wrong?”
Wren looked at him impassively.
“Right, no talking.” Jere sat back, trying to figure out what to do next. He gave up trying, and watched Wren instead.
Wren sat silent and unmoving, as if he was waiting for something. Jere wasn’t sure what, but since Wren didn’t seem upset, Jere committed himself to waiting as well. After a few moments, he relaxed and accepted that there was going to be no way he would ever get Wren to break character. It was odd, just sitting there, but Wren wasn’t giving him any clues. Was this it, then? Was this sort of uninformed waiting a big part of being a slave? Jere realized he would go crazy. He’d rather have orders yelled at him than be ignored and left to his own devices like this.
It seemed like an eternity, but Wren finally moved, rising to his feet and looking at Jere. Jere stayed kneeling, feeling uncomfortable and scrutinized. He couldn’t resist looking around, seeing what the hell Wren might be looking at.
A sharp tug on the leather around his neck brought him back to attention, making him realize that looking around might not have been the best idea. Jere checked, twisting his head again and earning another tug. He kept looking ahead after that, committing himself to waiting. As he did, Wren poked and prodded at him, not demanding anything, just touching him as if they had all the time in the world. It was unsettling, a turn-off in how methodical it was. It was a game, so it was fun, but Jere didn’t think he’d enjoy it very much if it was being done for real. He had felt those same hands touch him in all the same places before, but it felt so different in this context. Like his body was somehow separate from the rest of him.
Finally, Wren came in front of him, taking Jere’s chin in his hand and turning his face up so he was looking at Wren, who kept a straight face. Wren let his hand drop, and when Jere stayed looking at him, Wren gave him a little nod. Jere was relieved to know that looking ahead was right, looking around was wrong. Lesson learned. And looking at Wren when he was bidden to do so was also right. He could remember that as well.
A few more seconds passed silently, and then Wren made a motion with his hand, an upward sweep with his palm. Taking a guess, Jere stood, watching Wren for any other clues. When he did, Wren nodded, smiling at him.
Jere felt more proud than he cared to admit. He had no idea how he had allowed his self-worth to get tied up in this, but it was remarkably easy.
Wren dropped the end of the belt, holding his hand up to Jere in a clear sign to stay. Jere tried not to smile, that one was too easy. He stayed in place as Wren made his way onto the bed, waiting for further instruction.
It didn’t come. Jere stood there, debating for a while, and then started walking toward Wren, watching him closely for signs or instructions. He thought he saw Wren’s head shake, but he couldn’t figure out why he would be shaking his head, so he kept getting closer.
This time, there was the slight headshake, but it was accompanied by a very slight frown. Jere stopped, his own face mirroring the displeased expression. Wren stared him down, giving no further signs until Jere took a step back.
Finally, he had pleased Wren. The cessation
of frowning displayed his approval, and Jere was relieved to know he was doing well. Still, it left him with the puzzling question of what he was supposed to do.
He knew that slaves were often left for hours without clear instructions from their masters, and patience was a part of that, or at least, that’s how Wren had described it. But surely, Wren wasn’t doing this as an exercise in patience? That seemed to be a waste of time.
As he considered, he ran his hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that he was only aware of because he had nothing else to focus his attention on. That, and because Wren’s stone-like face suddenly shifted to an approving look.
Jere paused, considered it, and then ran his hand through his hair again. There it was, again, just for a moment, approval.
He continued to bring his hand down across his neck, fingering the belt-collar lightly and trailing down across his chest, touching himself tentatively. Wren actually smiled at that, for real, and Jere suddenly caught on to what he was supposed to be doing. He continued, providing something that wasn’t quite a striptease, since he was naked already, but rather just a tease, touching himself all over, watching Wren to gauge his reactions. Wren directed him wordlessly, getting Jere to move his hands all over his own body, touching lightly, roughly, whatever pleased Wren. It was intoxicating to be able to communicate like this. It was an effort, but it was fun in context. Jere didn’t want to think about what it would be like to be afraid during something like this.
Wren seemed the most pleased when Jere touched his cock, so he did that, again and again, growing hard and eager with every touch. He went from touching to stroking, and Wren sat up, leaning forward to watch as Jere worked himself faster. He wondered if he could come like this, and he figured that he may as well. He closed his eyes halfway, blurring Wren’s image for a moment, and he let out a needy sigh as he kept touching himself, getting caught in the sensation for a moment.
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