Now he definitely laughs. “That’s right, Owen. You’re going to sleep with another man tonight.”
“Haha! Does that make me a metrosexual, sir?”
He sits me on the edge of her bed as he laughs again. “I don’t think that word means what you think it means, buddy.” He kneels in front of me to help me get my shoes and socks off. I stare down at him, his hunched shoulders, and for a moment I wish our positions were reversed.
I wish it was me kneeling, for him or Susa, at this point I don’t even care.
Then he sits back and smiles. “You need help with your shirt and pants? Or are you too drunk?”
I try to get my shirt unbuttoned and give up after the first one. He helps me out, unbuttoning it down to the fourth button and then pulling it up and over my head for me, followed by my undershirt.
I flop back. “Might as well strip me, sir.”
He laughs again, shaking his head as he reaches down and unfastens my belt and slacks. I sort of flop around a little so he can get them down and off me, then I lay there in my briefs, unsure what I’m supposed to do next.
“You want to sleep like that?” he asks. “Because I gotta say, that doesn’t look comfortable.”
“I’m stuck, sir.”
He helps me sit up and gets me turned and situated on the bed. He strips down to his boxers and turns on the TV, then turns off the lights. He grabs his laptop and sits up next to me.
I roll over onto my side and look up at him. “Thank you for tonight, sir.”
His gaze settles on me, and it feels like something’s passed between us.
Or maybe I’m just really fucking drunk. Still, I trust Carter, especially after the way he took care of me at my mom’s house.
He reaches over and runs a hand through my hair, ruffling it playfully, a smile on his face that almost looks…sad. “You’re very welcome, boy. Happy birthday.” He’s looking at something on the screen.
“What are those?”
“Hmm?”
I squint, trying to see, and point, but everything’s blurry.
“Oh, it was a link on Facebook. You know how much I love Doctor Who.”
“Yeah?” It’s something we share, although he knows more about the show than I do.
“They’re rings with Gallifreyan writing on them.”
Okay, the more I look, and squint, the more I can see that’s what they are, a dark blue with the round, ornate scrollwork etched in grey. “Those are cool.”
“Yeah.” I don’t understand the wistful, almost sad expression he’s suddenly wearing, so I decide to try to cheer him up.
“Do you want to talk?” I ask.
“Sure.” He sets his laptop aside. “What do you want to talk about?”
I shrug. I’m at a loss now. “I’ve never done this before.”
“Done what?”
“Sleep with a guy.”
I think he’s humoring me. “You haven’t, huh? Seems like you’ve fallen asleep in my bed a couple of times already.”
“Oh.” I think about that. “Yeah, I guess I have. Sorry.”
“No, I didn’t mind at all. I sleep better with you there.”
That makes me feel good in unexpected ways. “Then if you need me to, you ask me. I’m happy to.”
“I will.” He studies me. “So what do you want to talk about?”
“I don’t know. What do guys usually talk about?”
“Well, we could talk about fantasies.”
“Fantasies?”
“Yeah.” He smiles. “What gets your rocks off? We’ve never really talked about that.”
My inhibitions are gone. I want to live in this exact moment forever. “You’ll laugh.”
“No, I swear I won’t.” He holds his hand up. “I’ll share if you share.”
Maybe it’s because of the alcohol, I don’t know. I’ve literally never talked to anyone about this before. “I want to…take care of someone, you know?”
“Take care of them how?”
“Be of service to them.” My face heats, but I don’t even care anymore. “Like be their slave. Not do disgusting things, but… Like when you took my shoes off for me. Like…” I don’t know how to explain it.
“Like how you take care of me and Susa?”
“Yeah!” I nod. “Exactly! The chores, be…available to her.”
“Available how?”
“You know.” More heat floods my cheeks. “Sexually. Be under her control.”
“Her Mistress to your slave?”
“Yeah.” He’s not laughing at me, so I stumble forward through this. “Being put over her lap and spanked if I displease her.”
Carter leans in. “Being made to kneel for her to please her?”
My cock is now rock-hard and twitches at that mental image. That’s actually one of my hottest fantasies. “Yeah. Stuff like that.”
“Discipline and service, then. What about bondage?”
“Like ropes?”
“Maybe. Or being made to wear her cuffs and collar like her good boy.”
“Oh, yeah…” I reach down and squeeze my cock through my briefs.
“Must be making you horny,” he says as he grabs his laptop.
“Yeah.”
He pulls up a browser window and calls up a website, quickly browsing to what he wants, then showing me.
It’s a porn site, of course. But this particular video…
Holy shit!
It’s literally something out of one of my darkest fantasies. He full-screens it so I can see it more easily. A woman in a corset and short skirt is sitting in a chair while a naked guy kneels on the floor in front of her.
He’s wearing a leather collar, leather wrist and ankle cuffs…
And nothing else.
He’s giving her a foot rub, and she’s holding what looks like a rattan cane in her hand, resting across her lap. Pretty soon, she starts making him kneel in different positions, occasionally smacking him with the cane if he does something wrong.
Without considering the ramifications, I shove my briefs down and start stroking my cock. Everything else fades away—even Carter’s presence right there on the other side of the bed—as I drop into the fantasy.
In my mind it’s Susa, not the woman on the video. And it’s me rubbing her feet and performing the different poses per her orders, basking in the sweet smile she’s wearing, absorbing her praise like she’s the sun and I’m a plant desperate for its true shine and heat after years spent in a greenhouse under grow-lights.
That video ends too damn fast, but he calls up another one. This is two guys, one dressed in jeans and a tight black T-shirt. The other guy wears a jock, leather cuffs on his wrists and ankles, and a collar. Except he’s bent over a bench and hooked to it with clips. The man on top starts spanking him with a paddle, and now I’m…gone.
I want it all—all of that.
Carter’s voice pierces through the haze. “I bet you’d be a good boy for me, wouldn’t you?” It’s the same tone of voice he used on me that night at Mom’s, when we returned to the car and he told me to stop outside the gate.
“Yes, sir.”
He strokes my hair. “I could teach you positions. Let you serve me. Teach Susa how to be a good Domme for you. Would you like that?”
I nod, my gaze fixed on the screen. The Top has laid the paddle across the other guy’s back, walks around to his head, unzips, and starts face-fucking him. “Yes, sir.”
Carter’s hand grips my hair firmly, his voice rasping in my ear. “Then show me how much you’d like it, boy. Come for me. Now.”
I do. It’s the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever experienced, like my balls are going to turn themselves inside out.
Sweet oblivion quickly takes me under.
Chapter Nineteen
I wake up the next morning in bed beside Carter.
Okay, that’s not exactly…accurate.
I wake up draped over Carter, with my head on his chest. He’s already awake. He’s
got one arm hooked around my shoulders, and is scrolling through e-mails on his phone with his free hand.
I also feel like an elephant stampeded through my brain and that pain is more than enough to drive away any feelings of mortification I might have about the position I find myself in when I awaken.
Although I’m not exactly complaining about the way it felt to discover that I was snuggled against someone, before my brain engaged and I realized who that someone was. Unfortunately, with my head throbbing, I’m also not exactly in the best frame of mind to unpack and examine any of that right now.
I slowly sit up, groaning as I do. “What the hell?”
“Welcome to adulthood,” Carter says, sounding all too amused. “Hangovers 101.”
“Duuuude. This is not fun.”
“No, the fun part was last night. Especially after we got back here.”
Some mental images flash through my head, and I groan again.
Holy.
Shit.
Never in my life have I ever wanted anyone to find out about my fantasies.
Especially Susa. It’s bad enough this happened in her bed. At least she wasn’t here last night.
I also hope I haven’t borked my friendship with Carter beyond repair. “Look, I’m really sorry for whatever I did.”
“Why? I’m not sorry. You had honest fun for the first time in your life. Dude, I was in the military. You think I’ve never seen guys jerk off before? Or wasn’t one of them? Or getting drunk? Or jerking off after getting drunk? Last night was nothing, buddy. We’re good.” He smiles. “But I do want to talk today.”
My stomach feels scrambled, and not only because of my hangover. “Talk?”
“Yeah. I suspect you’re feeling pretty miserable inside for some reasons that you don’t need to be. Since Susa’s not here, let’s talk. Okay? Between us. I have some valuable real-world experience that tracks pretty closely to what we, eh, discussed last night.”
I’m not sure I remember everything we discussed last night. There are snippets in my brain, but some of it’s…fuzzy. “I think I need coffee first.” I look down at my stomach. “I’m not…” I swallow hard. Unless I imagined things last night, Carter must have cleaned me up.
Carter’s out of bed now. “Yes, I cleaned you up after you passed out. I didn’t want to accidentally get spooged.” He looks entirely too amused at the mortified sound I make over that matter-of-fact statement. “Buddy, you’re adorable. I’ll go start the coffee. You go wash your face. You’ll feel better.”
He heads out of the room. He’s wearing boxer shorts.
Last night…
There are bits and pieces of memories swirling around, some clearer than others. I think I remember everything clearly up until the car ride to Susa’s.
I remember us talking a little. Something about Doctor Who rings.
The porn.
I shiver as I remember the sound of his voice in my ear, firm and commanding, as I jerked off.
I remember experiencing pleasure so intense I literally passed out.
Fuck.
I climb out of bed and head to the bathroom and use it, wash my hands, my face. I shuck my underwear and pull on a pair of sleeping shorts from my overnight bag before I make my way out to the kitchen.
Carter’s already set out a bottle of ibuprofen and a glass of water for me on the counter.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome…boy.”
I freeze, gooseflesh rippling my skin.
“How does that make you feel?” he asks in a conversational tone.
“How does what?”
“That. When I call you boy like that. Boy.”
I think I whimper as my eyes drop shut. Part of me wants to slither to the floor, onto my knees, so I can kneel before him.
I can only nod.
When Carter speaks again, it startles me a little because he’s standing right behind me now, his quiet voice in my left ear.
“What if I tell you we can make most of your fantasies come true for you, boy? What if I tell you I was once exactly in the position you’re in? What if I tell you not only am I okay with you calling me Sir, capital S, but I’d like to help you explore those fantasies?”
It’s hard to breathe, and not because of the hangover.
Because it feels like I’m perched upon the precipice, hanging from the apex of something huge and I’m terrified to let go and fall into Carter’s waiting arms.
I’m also terrified to not let go.
“What’s the…what’s the catch?”
“There is no catch. You decide you want to stop doing it, we stop.”
My hands are shaking too badly to open the bottle of ibuprofen. So badly, in fact, that it sounds like I’m playing maracas until Carter’s hands close around mine, he takes the bottle from me, opens it, and shakes three tablets into my palm. Then he closes the bottle, sets it down, and leans against the counter, right next to me. I sense him looking me in the eyes—rather he’s trying to, because I won’t meet his gaze yet.
I can’t look at him yet. I swallow the tablets and chase them with water. I have to hold the glass with both hands.
I’m still trying to process that not only is he not going to use what I did last night against me…he wants to help me do…more?
“Slow breaths, buddy. You’re going to hyperventilate.”
I realize only after he says it that, yes, I’m gasping for air. I have to lean forward, my hands braced on the counter, eyes closed. I think I’m close to a panic attack. I’ve had a couple in my life, during the summer between my junior and senior years in high school, before I was certain I’d landed my scholarship. I never told anyone about them, afraid that would bring more of Mom’s wrath upon me for being “weak.”
Because I also worried it would provide an additional easy target for her to wound me.
Carter’s hand settles between my shoulder blades. “Owen, you’re a submissive. I’ve had a feeling you were ever since we met. I’ve been where you are. I know what you want, what you need. I also know how terrifying it is admitting it. Please, let me help you.”
Part of me wants to say yes right now.
Part of me wishes he was Susa.
The two parts of me are at war, but kinda on the same…side, I guess?
“I’m so confused.”
“I know, buddy.” Everything about Carter right now seems gentle and tender, like I’m a frightened horse he’s trying to calm. I get that. The rational part of my brain that excelled on my SAT scores and had the stratospheric GPA in high school understands this.
The part of me I’ve always kept locked tightly away and been terrified to show to anyone else is screaming to be acknowledged and finally set free.
So to speak.
I’m crying and don’t even realize it until I hear the sound of paper towel ripping and he dabs my cheeks with it. The other hand doesn’t leave my back.
“Owen, there’s nothing wrong with you. Not a damn thing. Some people are dominant in all areas of their life. Some are dominant in nearly every other part of their lives, and being submissive for a little while is a mental and emotional vacation for them. Some people are submissive more often. Some are what are called Alpha submissives. And some people are switches.”
I struggle to absorb his words. “What are you?”
“Started out submissive, situationally. Became switchy. Now, I’m a Dominant. And that happens, too. People evolve. Start out one thing and realize later they’re something else. Or they’re one thing in one situation, and another thing in others. There’s no right or wrong.”
Oooooh, yes, there is. Especially in my mother’s house.
“Do your parents or family…know?” I ask.
Now he snorts. “Hell, no. That all happened in Germany, when I was in the Army.” A soft sigh escapes him. “We can talk about all that, too. Most of it. Some of it’s still too difficult for me to talk about. Too…raw.”
I think about what he’d
said about a situation not working out. “The woman you got the vasectomy for?” I force myself to look him in the face, even though I can’t quite bring myself to look him in the eyes yet. So I focus on his lips. Morning stubble shadows his cheeks, as it does mine.
He nods. “Yeah. This is one of those times I’m going to ask you not to repeat what we talk about, and I’ll give you the same courtesy. Not even with Susa. Okay?”
I suck in a shaky breath. Carter’s presence in my life, from day one, has been nothing but…good.
My anti-Mom.
“Yes, Sir.”
There’s a ray of joy so sweet and pure in the look he gives me that it makes something inside me respond, beg for more, like part of him is calling out to me.
I’m still perched on that precipice and looking down on both sides.
Do I return to what I know? A miserably closeted life where I’m too afraid to confide in anyone and I hide the real me?
Or do I allow Carter to coax me down and trust him to catch me?
My life has been spent in fear, in useless attempts to make my mother happy, all so she’ll love me.
All so she’ll want me.
Carter wants me, who I am and the way that I am.
I force myself to look him in the eyes. “This is between us?”
He nods. “Unless you want us to bring Susa in.”
Tendrils of fear threaten to strangle me again. “What if she wouldn’t be okay with that?”
He shrugs. “If I don’t think she will, we won’t tell her. But I’m pretty sure she will.”
“You do?”
“I do.” His gaze holds mine and I feel calm trying to creep in. “We can talk today, if you want to,” he says. “Or we can do more. At the very least, let me make you some French toast and get some food and water in you. You’ll feel better.”
“I thought submissives were supposed to do all that.”
He’s dead serious when he lays his other hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “Every good Dominant knows their first responsibility is to take care of their submissive.”
Chapter Twenty
While Carter cooks breakfast, he makes me sit at the counter and drink another glass of water before he’ll let me have coffee.
“I don’t want you to get dehydrated,” he says. “One of the best things you can do after a night like last night is drink water.”
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