Safeword (10 page)

The pressure mounted, and if something didn’t give,
I
was going to be the one to give. Laura suggested a night out and convinced Ben a few drinks at Collared with her and her Dom, Steven, were in order. The weather had warmed enough to turn the threat of snow and ice into a cold, soaking rain. Low-hanging clouds capped the city, adding to my growing claustrophobia as we walked to the club Ben and I hadn’t visited in ages. I wouldn’t let myself dwell on the last time, when Ben had wanted to show the world, or at least those in the lifestyle, I belonged to him. He’d claimed me that night, as sincerely and completely as if he’d stood in front of a crowd and announced I was his. He’d done it without saying a single word to anybody. I was certain Laura hadn’t meant to remind me of the chasm between us, but the effect was the same. I wasn’t on display in my work slacks and button-down shirt, tie left folded in my sport coat pocket. I wasn’t claimed anymore.

When we entered the building, the red overhead light in the foyer cast a portentous glow over everything, and I shivered. Anticipation and nervousness fought for dominance, their battlefield my nerves. I stood straight, slightly behind Ben, as the bouncer, Juice, broke out in a wide grin.

“Dr. Haverson! Detective DeGrassi! It’s good to see you, man.” He clapped Ben on the shoulder, and then lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Or should I be calling the detective Mr. DeGrassi?” He winked, alluding to that night of claiming more than a year before when Ben had informed him of my status as a sub.

Ben smiled tightly. “Call him whatever’s comfortable, Juice. It’s good to see you, too.” I didn’t have any more capacity for pain, so I merely nodded in acknowledgement as Juice’s eyes gave me a curious once-over.

“Mr. Foster. Dr. Ribaldi,” Juice acknowledged the pair behind us, then turned and swung the heavy steel door open to allow us entry.

For a weeknight, the club was busy, though it was more subdued than was typical. There was music, but the volume didn’t prohibit conversation. A smattering of tables were occupied, outnumbered only slightly by those that were available. Steven and Ben wove through the seating area to a low table in the middle with a good view of the dance floor and stage. Laura and I followed at heel, and while I knew it wasn’t expected of me, it was something I thought I could get away with without setting Ben off. When the two Doms sat, Laura immediately knelt at her Dom’s side. I fidgeted uncertainly before Ben pulled out a chair for me.

“Laura, you may sit at the table,” Steven intoned, and Laura rose, sitting across from me with an encouraging smile.

“What can I get for everyone to drink?” a cocktail waitress in a shiny vinyl bustier and tight leather skirt asked. Steven ordered for himself and Laura, and Ben chose a glass of iced tea, gesturing to me for my choice. The scowl I tried to suppress briefly flickered into sight, but I controlled it as best I could.

“I’ll have a Coke.”

“Coming right up,” she smiled brightly, disappearing as fast as she’d arrived.

“Not drinking tonight, Gavin?” Steven asked politely, making conversation as though we were four friends at the neighborhood bar and grill and not at a club with a St. Andrew’s Cross adorning the stage.

“I’m afraid if I start, I won’t stop,” I answered, completely serious. Laura frowned, and I studiously avoided Ben’s reaction.

“One is fine, Gavin,” she admonished. “Might help you relax.”

“You could prescribe something to help me relax, but we all know it would be the pills and not me.”

“Gavin,” Ben warned, voice low.

“Just stating a fact, babe.” I smiled wolfishly. Maybe if I pushed him hard enough, he’d
need
to punish me as much as I needed to be punished.

“As I live and breathe!” came a new voice, booming over the nearby conversation. A genuine smile tugged at my lips as the bar’s owner, Jared Nunn, stepped up to the table. “Detective Gavin DeGrassi. It’s good to see you, man! I was wondering if you’d ever show your face here again.”

“You have too good a place to ignore forever, Sir,” I answered. As was customary, he shook Ben’s hand before mine, respecting Ben’s status as my Dom. Then he quickly offered his hand to the others, his easy-going manner diffusing the tension. Wearing a tight tank top and ripped jeans, he didn’t look like a bar owner, but I’d learned during my first visits to Collared no one knew his patrons better than Jared Nunn. His customers were his lifeblood, and he took good care of us. All of us.

“First round’s on me, tonight. Any of you fancy a visit upstairs?” To either the private or semi-private rooms, lorded over by Master Lacey, Nunn’s resident Domme and Dungeon Master, tasked with keeping the kink safe, sane, and consensual.

“No thanks, Jared,” Ben said warmly. “We’re just relaxing and keeping out of the rain.”

“I’ll be so glad when spring gets here,” Jared sighed wistfully. “Nothing ruins leather like a downpour, and days of this mess makes me wish I’d set up shop in the Bahamas.”

I laughed for what felt like the first time in weeks. “Planning on whipping those hurricanes down there into shape then?”

“I’ll strap ‘em down and flog ‘em good.”

“I’d pay to see that,” Steven said, grinning.

Jared squeezed my shoulder, giving a polite nod to Laura. “Looking lovely tonight, doctor. Enjoy your evening.” He slipped away just as a sensual beat, louder than the previous music, insinuated itself into the atmosphere. The dance floor picked up a few souls, mostly girls in next to nothing, looking to catch a Dom by the sway of their hips and the pout of their lips. As two songs became four, more people braved the floor, a good mix of men and women, and I found myself watching them, assessing.

Subs outnumbered Doms by far, and those nearby watched as the subs preened and pranced for their benefit. A man with a very compelling air of authority leaned against one pole, dressed in a business suit, his gaze fixed on a young man in skin tight jeans and no shirt, his wrists shackled behind his back. His sinuous movements were clearly meant to entertain more than the suited Dom, who appeared to be enjoying the attention his sub received from others dotted around the space.

I looked away for a moment when our waitress returned with a second round, and did a double-take at the expression on Ben’s face. He was riveted on the sinuous sub, wearing what I’d come to think of as his ‘training face,’ the one he displayed when assessing the best way to break down my barriers and get me to subspace. There was hunger in his eyes, something I hadn’t seen in so long, I’d forgotten what it looked like. A spike of bitter resentment shot a burning trail up my throat, and I swallowed, blinking back a sudden influx of moisture in my eyes.

So Ben’s inner Dom wasn’t silent after all. It wasn’t missing or suppressed because of our attack. It was
me
who no longer captured that kind of attention.
Me
who was too fragile to handle it.
Me
Ben would never feel comfortable dominating again.

I suddenly wished I’d ordered a shot of Jack or even a beer. Something stronger than soda, something that would obliterate the stabbing pain in my gut, letting me ignore the realization that pummeled me, funnily enough, into submission.

“You okay, Gavin?” Laura asked, her voice tunneling through my thoughts, muted through the rushing of blood in my ears.

I couldn’t meet her eyes, humiliation sand-papering every corner of my soul.

“Gavin?” Ben’s voice, far away and tinged with concern, the bastard.

The room began to elongate, stretching and distorting so the ceiling, high overhead, lowered, ready to pin me in place if I couldn’t get out of there right that second. I panicked, scraping my chair back and running for the door, unconcerned with those I bumped out of the way. Maybe Ben wouldn’t follow me. He would be free to pursue the other sub. Maybe that sub’s Dom was up for sharing. He’d looked amused by the thought of others lusting after his boy, and Ben was one of the most respected Doms in the city. Of course that Dom would let him play.

He deserves to play. It’s part of who he is.

Another thought occurred to me, right on the heels of that one.

If you stay with him, he might never play again. Can you do that to him? Can you live with yourself?

The rain hit me, stinging cold and mingling with tears I didn’t know I’d shed. I stared into the night sky, the streetlight turning the falling deluge into arrows aimed straight at my heart. I stood, gulping cold air, getting soaked, holding on to myself by the skin of my teeth.

Strong arms wrapped around me, hauling me back into a solid body. Ben’s soothing voice in my ear was low and calm. “Hydrogen, helium, lithium. Come on, Gav, say it with me. Beryllium, boron, shhh, that’s good.”

I joined him, and my pulse decelerated, my ears stopped ringing, and the world returned to its normal proportions like a trampoline snapping back from flexure. “Carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, fluorine, neon....” I trailed off and turned in Ben’s arms, my forehead jammed into his cheek as water cascaded down our faces, plastering our hair to our skin. I couldn’t suppress the sob any more than I could stop the rain. His hands, warm despite the storm, framed my face and forced me to look at him.

“What happened?” he asked, oblivious to my horrific epiphany. My lips quivered and I knew, with wretched certainly, what I had to do.

My teeth chattered as I held his concerned gaze, pulling away. I knelt at his feet, taking great, wracking breaths to find my voice, which, when I did speak, shook from my very core with misery and desperation.

On my knees, the pouring rain soaking into my suit pants and everywhere else, I gave Ben a last, grief-stricken look and set him free, safewording on our relationship.

“Thunder.”

SILENT TORTURE was the only apt description of the car ride from Collared back home. Despite the heat blowing full blast, I couldn’t stop shivering, the clatter of my teeth annoying even me. My jaw ached from clenching it, and I stared despondently through the sheets of rain, the thump of the wipers too slow to keep up with the downpour.

“Gavin,” Ben murmured. I hadn’t realized we’d arrived, or that he’d already parked and turned off the car. I stirred, staring blankly at his anxious face. “Let’s go inside.” I moved on autopilot, not hurrying or otherwise trying to shield myself from the icy rain. Ben waited for me beneath the overhang sheltering the back patio. The dark of the house swallowed us, and a strange, mocking competitiveness reared inside me.
Is that the darkest you’ve got, house? Because I’ve got you beat. Look at my inky, black, unworthy heart.

I turned when Ben’s strong hands landed on my shoulders, but I didn’t register if he spoke. He pulled me into his arms, the vibration of his chest hinting at words, but I heard nothing. After a long moment, he pulled back, forced me to look at him.

“Can you hear me?”

I nodded.

“Upstairs to the bathroom. Strip and fold your clothes neatly on the counter. I’ll be up in a minute.”

The command in his tone was unmistakable.

“Okay.”

“‘Okay, Sir.’”

“Okay, Sir,” I parroted, shuffling to the stairs. The usual dread at climbing them, at facing the scene of our undoing, didn’t rise, but I was too fuzzy to consider why. I merely obeyed, reaching the top and entering the spacious bathroom with the whirlpool tub. For a brief time, we’d had weekly sessions in the tub, discussing scenes, expectations, concerns. I wasn’t sure he wanted me to draw a bath. It made sense, given my bone-chilling cold as I peeled off my wet suit. Folding it in that state seemed stupid, but Ben had said to, so I did. He still hadn’t come up, and I wasn’t sure what to do with myself, so I stood, willing myself to get my shit together.

What am I going to say now? How am I going to explain this? And wouldn’t it be easier to do while fully clothed and packing to leave?

The sound of the dryer buzzer from the laundry room immediately beneath the loft bathroom jarred me from my thoughts, and seconds later, Ben came in, carrying a couple towels. He tossed one to me, the terry cloth warm and inviting after a short tumble in the machine.

“Wrap up in that while I run a hot bath.”

I said nothing, only pulled the towel around my shoulders. The shivers ebbed, and the loud rush of water from the faucet blotted out everything else. I was caught in a bubble, wishing this moment would last forever, suspended just before the end of everything.

Slipping into the water, he beckoned me to join him. I dropped the towel, started to step into the tub, and then thought better of it, stopping to fold the towel. As far as delay tactics went, it wasn’t nearly long enough.

The lick of the water against my skin warmed me, but the shivers wouldn’t release their hold completely. When Ben twirled his finger to indicate I should turn around, I did so awkwardly, splashing water over the side onto the bathmat. He pulled me flush to his chest, arms secure around me.

“This okay?” he asked, only loud enough to be heard over the whirring jets. “Not too tight?”

I shook my head. “It’s fine.” Nothing else was fine, but I wouldn’t let panic ruin the last embrace I might share with him.

“So what happened?”

Glad for our position so I wouldn’t have to meet his eyes, I breathed deeply around a lump in my throat, and then spoke. “I saw the way you looked at the cuffed sub dancing.” My voice betrayed me with a crack, and I fell silent.

“How was I looking at him?” he prompted.

“Like you were planning a scene. Like you were imagining all the ways you could tie him up, flog him, take a crop to him and pretty his skin with pink stripes. All the things you can’t do with me. You
can
still be a Dom. You just can’t be
mine
anymore.”

“Why not?” he growled, fingers squeezing my bicep. It wasn’t painful, but I wouldn’t let myself hope it was proprietary.

“Because, Ben!” The dam burst. “You’re a Dom! I can’t imagine you being content in a vanilla relationship. Your
whole life
revolves around kink. It’s your work, your home life. You consult with the police about it. You write books about it. It’s
who you are,
and don’t patronize me by saying it’s not. You deserve someone you can play with, who can handle you taking them to subspace. You won’t even try with me anymore.” I swallowed. “But if that’s not a good enough reason, there’s me. I don’t want to go back to a vanilla relationship. If you can’t do a scene with me, if you’re not even willing to try, I’m not getting what I need from you. This isn’t going to work. We’re not in a contract anymore, so... I safeworded on us,” I finished limply.

“And what will you do if you’re not with me? Find another Dom who won’t restrain you or whip you? Who will understand
why
he can’t do those things?”

I hung my head. “It’s not about me so much as what I’m keeping you from. Someday, maybe I’ll find someone who will get me like you do, but right now, I don’t care if I don’t. I just can’t stand to be the reason you’re not
you
anymore.”

“You’re not,” he denied, but I cut him off.

“Bullshit!”

“Gavin,” he warned. “Calm down and listen. I’m still me. I still plan scenes for you. When I was watching the guy on the dance floor at Collared, it was your face in my head, your body. Only instead of being cuffed, you were blindfolded. Unable to tell who was watching, who wasn’t, what kind of effect you were having on those around you. Particularly me....”

His reaction poked my lower back. It awakened my desperation, a need so ingrained, so woven into the fibers of my muscles and the rush of my blood, it was all I could do not to turn around and launch myself at him.

“I could not possibly care less about the cuffed sub, but seeing him did accomplish one thing: I realize how much I miss topspace, how much I miss you on your knees for me, eager to please and so ready to give me everything you have. There is
no way in hell
I’m going to let you go, to leave you free for any other Dom. You’re
mine
, Gavin. We need each other, now more than ever. I’m not about to give up on us when I’m only just beginning to see how many new ways I can earn your submission.”

I tingled all over at his words, my breath quickening to the point of hyperventilation. Everything he’d said, I’d hoped to hear for months. But I still felt adrift, like a drowning man mere yards from shore.

“That was my problem, babe,” he murmured in my ear. I tilted my head, baring my neck, my control to him, hoping he’d take it and make it his, make it safe to be vulnerable again. Make me
feel
his control over me so I could finally let go and just
be.
“I couldn’t figure out how to get us there without triggering either of our limits. That’s what my session with Laura was about this afternoon, and partly why she suggested drinks tonight. She wanted you to relax enough and have a good time so maybe, when we got home, we could play. I didn’t want to overwhelm you at the club by making you publicly submit when we hadn’t tried anything in private. I was going to see how the night went and discuss it with you, or give it a try if things went well while we were out.”

“Then why did you act so pissy when Juice wanted to know what to call me?”

“It wasn’t pissiness. I’ve been a walking hard-on since I left the office.” He pressed his groin into my back and I groaned, letting my head fall to his shoulder. Unfortunately, he stopped. “Before we do any kind of scene, though, we need to talk about it. I want to be absolutely clear where your head is.”

The talking was the worst and best part sometimes. It was its own form of foreplay, and infuriating at the same time. Still, it felt good to be on the cusp of this, about to plunge into subspace again. I shook with anticipation, and Ben clasped my hands, pressing them into my chest.

“Breathe, Gavin. Do you need the elements?” I shook my head. “Okay. My first question is, are you in this with me? No more hesitation, no more blame. We only look back enough to consider limits, but from here on out, it’s all about the future. Yes or no?” I nodded, mouth working but nothing coming out. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes, Sir,” I croaked.

“Safeword if you have to stop so we can talk, but no more letting that bastard come between us. Any and every implement used in our play, at least at first, will be discussed.”

“Agreed,” I breathed, caressing the backs of his hands with my thumbs. I ran my foot up his shin and back down, unable to help myself.

“Be still.”

I obeyed with closed eyes, reveling in the immediate need to do his bidding. I exalted in the belonging that settled into every pore, every space inside me, my nerves singing with relief.

“Tonight, I’m not going to use anything on you. We’ll dry off and go downstairs, and you’ll stay at heel. When we reach the bedroom, you’re to kneel beside the bed in present position. You are not to touch yourself or me. Your body is mine to reclaim, and I mean to have you every way I can think of. Unless I instruct you otherwise, you do no more than open yourself to me, mind, body, and soul. If you can be a good sub and do as I say, I may let you come. I may not. Your cock is mine, your balls mine, and if I want them emptied, you get to come. If I decide to save it for next time, you don’t. It’s not your decision.”

“I want that so much, Sir.” I’d been hard since he first mentioned me in place of the cuffed sub, but with this, I had to breathe through a pending orgasm, not moving a muscle for fear something would give. It throbbed in my pelvis, threatening to explode, until time and fervent periodic table recitation lessened the intensity. It had been so long since he’d commanded me, so long since I’d accessed this part of my psyche, and I was strung so tight the slightest pluck of my strings resonated.

His toe peeked out of the water to release the drain lever, and he stood, pulling me to my feet. The rasp of the towel against my skin forced a gasp through my lips, and the pull of subspace already lapped at the edges of my mind. He dried me off, then himself, and tossed the towels in the hamper, smiling at me.

“Come on, pet.”

I followed him at heel through the house and into our bedroom, dropping to my knees beside the bed and presenting, awaiting instructions. Ben loomed over me, running his fingers through my hair.

“Look at me,” he ordered softly. I did, steady and sure. I wanted to leave him no room to doubt my state of mind. He looked back, licking his lips, which promptly made me want to suck on them. After a moment, I got my wish as he bent at the waist and kissed me, his tongue playing instantly between my lips. I opened to him, and he took possession, his mouth hungry. I sucked his bottom lip, then his tongue, my chest burning with the demand for air. I ignored it for as long as I could, and when he pulled back, we both panted harshly.

“Open your mouth.” He stepped forward, took hold of his cock, and rubbed it along my lips, his skin soft and warm, the curve of him graceful and familiar. I darted my tongue out to taste, beckoning him with a look that begged not to be kept waiting. He complied, gripping my hair and feeding his hardness into my mouth inch by inch. “Keep your eyes open,” he whispered hoarsely as he slid his head along the roof of my mouth to my throat. Knowing how far he could push me before tripping my gag reflex, he slowly thrust, bringing my face nearly to his neatly trimmed pubes and backing me off. I did my best to suck at the right moment, to swirl my tongue, but it wasn’t about me enjoying giving him a blow job. It was about him demanding one, doing with me what he wanted. I ached for more contact than just my mouth or his hand in my hair. I wanted to lie beneath him, smear myself shamelessly all over him. Be taken. My body sang with need for him, vibrating like a tuning fork ringing true.

You’ll give him what he wants and nothing more,
my inner sub intoned, gleeful and rusty in my head. So I stared into his face, watching the pleasure play across his lips, in the heat of his eyes, the cords of his neck. His desire fulfilled me. His wants sated me. He controlled me. I was home.

“Up on the bed,” he gasped, pulling out. “On your back, head hanging over the side, hands on your chest.” I scrambled to get into position, my mind beginning to float. I made no noise beyond breathing heavily. When he stood beside the bed and straddled my head, I gladly opened to him as he thrust in my mouth once more, careful about the depth. In this position, my throat was far more open, and with a few murmured encouragements and a second for me to suck in a big breath, he slid down my throat entirely. I swallowed, the walls of my esophagus massaging him. He groaned as he watched intently, careful not to even hint at cutting off my air supply.

“So beautiful. Such a good mouth for me to fuck. Those lips are sinful, Gavin.” I hummed my thanks, following the liquid motion of his hips, resisting the lure of gripping his ass to ride him. I kept my hands firmly on my chest, restrained by his words. When he bent to the bed and swallowed my leaking dick, I nearly jumped out of my skin. The wet heat of his tongue bathed me, and his moans traversed my veins.

Too soon and an eternity later, he pulled off, collapsing to the side, his dick sliding out of my mouth with a wet slurp. “On the pillows, on your side. Grab the headboard bars and don’t let go.” While I complied, the sound of the lube cap popped, and I heard the squish of him slicking his cock. I wanted to turn and watch, but I hadn’t been given permission.

The bed dipped behind me, and Ben’s warmth seeped into my skin from every tingly point of contact. Slicked fingers probed between my cheeks and massaged my perineum, and I lifted my leg to make it easier. He dipped two fingers into my hole, teasing me with short jabs. The bath had relaxed me, and I was flying high in subspace, his for the taking in every way.

“Mine,” he growled in my ear, sliding his cock against my hole, my cheeks cradling his length. “Tell me, Gavin. You’re mine.”