Chapter Eleven
James
Class is different with Colton the following Wednesday.
The whole time, I can’t stop thinking about my dirty little secret being in the room with me.
The man who sneaks lunch into my room daily and talks to me each night.
The one who has complete control over when and how I come, even though he’s not going to touch me.
I never expected the power I would feel in that.
Maybe it doesn’t make sense to feel powerful that someone else is making decisions for you, but again, knowing that he can only do it because I grant him the control changes everything for me.
As a child, I had no say; now, even when I’m listening to what Colton tells me to do, I still have a say.
There’s something electrifying about that.
It frees me from the bounds I’ve been in my whole life.
I always thought it was just the sex that I liked about this lifestyle, but though I like the sex, this feeds me in a different way.
But I do miss the sex. Sir hasn’t let me come yet, and it’s killing me, something I think he enjoys.
We continue the way we have all week. Like the first night, Sir calls and talks to me about my day and about Nash and Sadie.
I grumble that Nash still won’t make his bed, and how frustrating the silence from him can be.
Colton tells me about his days too, and I’m even more convinced there’s something going on between him and Hannah.
Or at least, that he has feelings for her.
I try not to think about it, try to tell myself it doesn’t matter because that’s not why I’m doing this, but the fact that I have to keep saying it to myself isn’t a good sign.
The one thing weighing on me all week is I can’t think of something to do for myself. Every idea feels silly, like a waste of time. What do I even like? How sad is it that I have to ask myself that question. What are my hobbies? I don’t have any, but I must have had them in the past, right?
It’s Sunday before I can think of anything.
When I was little and Sandra would be on one of her rampages or I needed to be alone, I would go for a walk.
It’s just a small thing to do, but I’d needed out of the house, needed to breathe in fresh air, and I would walk around the neighborhood and make up stories for myself: I had a mother and father at home who loved me; I was walking to my friend’s house to hang out—and later that changed to a boyfriend’s house; someone would come and take me away; I’d find out she wasn’t my mom and I really belonged somewhere else; my dad was the president or an astronaut who didn’t know about me, but once he found out, he would come and save me.
A kid’s dreams, really, and none of them ever came true, but they provided the reprieve I longed for.
So that’s what I do. I go for a walk and make up stories: Sadie, Nash, and I are closer; we’ve known each other our whole lives; I’m not awkward around people, or closed off, and let people get close; my past isn’t my past, and my siblings and I never went through the things we did.
I just keep walking and telling myself stories until I’m walking by a store and see a basketball in the window display.
It’s been almost a week since Sadie told me that Nash likes basketball, yet I haven’t done anything about it. So without letting myself overthink it, I go into the store. I find a basketball, then go to the art section and pick out a nice sketchbook and pencils for Sadie.
When I get back to the apartment, I don’t see either of them in the main rooms. There’s an unexpected twist in my stomach as I head for their room, dread making me second-guess myself.
The door is ajar, and I see them, each on their own bed, laughing about something…
something I’m not a part of because to them I’m not their brother, I’m just another adult in their lives who has let them down.
That’s not who I want to be to them, but I don’t know if I have the right to hope for anything else.
I knock on the door, then push it open a little more. “I got something for you both.” I hand Sadie the art supplies first, then walk over to Nash with the basketball.
His brows draw together, Nash looking at the ball as if it’s a foreign object. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “I just saw them and bought them.” It’s not as if this is the first thing I’ve bought for them, but then, most of those were necessities, weren’t they? This is different. This is personal.
Nash doesn’t take his gaze off me as he plucks the ball from my hands.
“Thank you,” Sadie says from behind me. “These are really cool.”
“You’re welcome,” I tell her, turning her way.
I don’t expect anything from Nash, and honestly, I’m okay with that.
I know what it’s like to be that angry at the world because I was at his age too.
“I’ll make dinner in a little while,” I tell them, then slip from the room, closing the door behind me.
*
I sit in bed, wearing sleep pants and no shirt, back against the headboard, door locked, waiting for Sir’s call.
Each day this week he’s asked me what I’ve done for myself, and I never had an answer.
I’m proud I have one today, but I hope it’s good enough, hope he sees that this is me trying and it’s all a process.
My ringer is off, but exactly on time, my phone buzzes from where it’s been glued to my hand for the last five minutes. Tendrils of nerves twist through my gut as I answer his video call.
“Hello,” I say.
“Hey. How are you this evening?” He’s shirtless, his blond hair messy like it often is, but wet, his skin glistening too.
He just got out of the shower, and I can’t deny the part of me that wishes I’d been in there with him.
Sir ordering me to my knees to suck him off, fucking my face, not letting me come until he says…
“Fine,” I answer. It’s always like this in the beginning—me with short answers, getting used to us again.
“What did you do today?”
“Got up and had breakfast, went grocery shopping before it got busy, then came home and cleaned the house, planned meals for the week, and went over assignments my TA had questions about.” We don’t talk specifics about his class, and having my TA grade the assignments preempts any questions of fairness or favoritism.
“That sounds busy. I went over to my mom’s. My brother, Dakota, was there with his girlfriend, Elena. We had a barbecue and just hung out. Then I came home and did some homework. One of my professors is a little assignment happy.”
“I don’t give a lot of work,” I argue, and he laughs.
“I wasn’t talking about you. Funny that you assumed I was. Did you follow all my rules today?”
My belly heats, my skin prickling with excitement. “Yes, Sir.”
“You know I’ve got to ask you, and I’m really hoping you’ll say what I want to hear. I’d hate to have to punish you…well, hate is a strong word because I would actually like to be able to punish you, and I think you would like that too.”
I fight back a moan because I would very much like that.
“Were you a good boy today? Did you do something just for you?” His voice is lower now, an edge of seriousness to it, expecting an answer and it better be what he wants to hear. I break out in a full-body flush.
“Yes, Sir.” No matter how much I try, I can’t bite back my smile, proud of myself.
Sir smiles too. “That’s good. I’m so fucking proud of you. What did you do?”
“I went for a walk,” I say, and see the question in his eyes, know he’s wondering what it is about a walk that’s just for me.
“Why is that something for you? I’m not doubting you, but I would like to know—and you know what to say if you don’t feel comfortable telling me.”
I like that Sir reminds me of my colors, that he wants to make sure I know that even though he’s in charge, I still have a choice.
For a moment I consider saying red, feeling silly about the why of the walk and what I did there, but then I think about Sir telling me I’m a good boy, being proud of me, seeing that pride in his expression, and I yearn for it so fucking much.
“When I was a kid, things weren’t good at home.
I’m sure you’ve gathered that much. It was only my mom and me, and she was…
terrible, to say the least. Anyway, sometimes it would be so chaotic at home, so overwhelming, that I felt like I was losing my mind.
I needed to escape, so I’d go on these walks.
I’m not talking a normal walk—I would do it for hours on end…
just keep going. I would create stories in my head the whole time, new lives for myself, find this place in my brain where I could create a new me, and it helped.
I haven’t done it in a long time. I haven’t needed to, really.
Even though things at home aren’t the way they used to be, they have changed with the kids being here, and today I just wanted to walk and clear my head. ”
“What did you dream about today?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“I want to get to know you. The better I know you, the better Dom I’ll be for you. Now answer the question, James.”
“Yes, Sir.” I rub a hand over my face. You can do this.
It’s only Colton. You need to do this to be his good boy and make him proud.
And God, I want that. “The kids, mostly. I imagined us closer…that they trust me. That we weren’t separated and I knew about them.
That I’d saved them from Sandra long before she died. That we’re a normal family.”
“There’s no such thing as a normal family. We’re all a mess, even when we pretend we’re not.”
I shrug. Maybe he’s right, maybe he’s wrong, but it doesn’t change how I feel.
“You’re a dreamer,” he says after a moment, and I cock my head. “You create stories in that pretty head of yours. I imagine it’s always going, that it’s a busy place in there. I want to help you quiet it.”
The words nearly stick in my mouth, but I manage to admit, “You do. What you do for me helps.”
“That’s good. And I’m very proud of you for sharing that with me. I think you’ve earned an orgasm. I’m even going to be a nice Sir and let you decide if you want to end the call and jerk off on your own, or if you want me to walk you through it.”
The temperature in the room spikes. My legs shift on the mattress, pictures flashing through my head of being naked in front of Sir, of stuffing my fingers in my ass for him, holding myself open for him and what it would be like if he was here…
“It’s your choice, James.”
This wasn’t supposed to be about sex, and it’s not only about sex. It should be okay if we’re not together, right? If we’re not in the same room, hell, not even in the same building. If he doesn’t touch me, we’re not breaking the rules, at least not to the same extent.
But you want to…a part of you wants to break them.
And then another thought intrudes—what if he records this call? “I… Is it safe? This can’t get out.”
“I would never betray you like that. I’m not recording this call. You’re safe with me, James. I promise.”
Maybe I shouldn’t, maybe this is a huge mistake, but I believe him. I don’t think Colton would ever do something like that to me.
“I want to do it with you, Sir.” My voice has a pleading quality to it, something I only allow myself in moments like these. “Please.”
“I would like that too, good boy,” he tells me, and again, I grin, before remembering I’m not alone in my apartment.
That on the other side of the building, two children I’m responsible for are in their room, and I’m what?
About to let my Dom make me come when they’re here too?
What if they need me? What if one of them comes to the door?
“You’re allowed to do this, little dreamer. You’re allowed to have this. Go check to make sure they’re asleep or at least in their room, then come back to me. If everything is fine with them, I want you to get naked for me.”
My dick throbs. I’m already hard, eager for what’s to come.
I do my best to block out my doubts, to listen to my Sir because I want this so fucking much. “Yes, Colton,” I reply, unable—and unwilling—to do anything but obey.