23. New Proficiency #2
“And what did you do?” I ask.
Carter looks directly at me. “I got the choker off her. Called for Holden because he was in the house. I released her ankles while we waited, but once I got to the wrists, her body weight was the problem. Holden supported her while I unclipped her from the bar.”
“What if Holden hadn't been here?”
“I would've gotten her down anyway. It would've been uglier.” Carter glances toward the bar. “After that, we talked through better sequencing if it ever happened again.”
“Good.”
His mouth twitches. “Inspection passed?”
“On that point.”
“Fuck me.”
Micah laughs.
Jeremiah has been quiet through most of the exchange.
I don't miss why.
The incident must have happened during a scene with him.
When he finally speaks, his voice is measured. “It also reinforced the way I think about where a scene actually ends.”
I turn toward him.
“Aftercare,” he adds.
“Always.” Micah and I respond close enough together that Carter looks between us.
Jeremiah nods. “People put a lot of energy into planning the part they find exciting. Restraints. Impact. How far they can push someone. They think if the submissive is conscious, talking, and says they're okay when the cuffs come off, the work is done.”
“It isn't,” Micah says.
“No.”
Jeremiah's tone remains controlled, but something in it becomes more personal. “Alexis can handle more physically than most people expect when they meet her. That doesn't mean it costs her nothing. If anything, the harder I push her, the more deliberate I have to be afterward.”
“What does deliberate mean for her?” I ask.
He considers the answer rather than producing a list immediately. “First, I don't make her transition straight from whatever headspace she's in back into being Alexis-who-manages-everything.”
That catches my attention.
Jeremiah continues, “If she's deep, I keep instructions simple.
I don't ask open-ended questions she doesn't need to answer yet.
Water gets put in her hand instead of asking if she wants water.
If she's cold, I get her warm. If she needs food, I put something easy in front of her.
I watch whether she can actually focus on me before I assume she's back.”
Micah nods slowly. “Reduce decisions.”
“Exactly. She spends most of her life making them.”
He leans back against the cabinet. “Physically, she usually wants contact.
Pressure. Being held. Sometimes skin-to-skin, sometimes wrapped up in something warm with somebody touching her.
She likes reassurance, but not a fucking TED Talk about how well she did.
Simple praise works better when she's still under.”
That sounds familiar enough that Micah glances at me.
Jeremiah goes on.
“Then there's the later part. People forget drop doesn't always happen immediately. Sometimes she feels amazing for an hour and crashes afterward. Sometimes the next morning is when she needs reassurance. So I check again.”
“Baseline matters,” I say.
Jeremiah looks at me.
“What someone can tolerate regulated isn't necessarily what they can tolerate exhausted, sick, overstimulated, or already emotionally depleted. Same equipment. Same person. Different nervous system,” I explain.
His expression changes slightly.
There it is again.
Recognition.
“Exactly.”
The resemblance between us isn't perfect.
I suspect Jeremiah's sadism extends further than mine. Micah may actually have more in common with him on that particular axis.
But the underlying principle is familiar.
Control is not primarily about what someone allows you to do to them.
It's about accepting responsibility for what happens when they allow it.
Carter folds his arms. “This really is a fucking board meeting.”
Micah looks around the room. “The visual aids are better.”
That gets an actual laugh out of Jeremiah.
His attention eventually returns to the harness. “Using that got me interested in what else suspension could do.”
“Shibari?” Micah asks.
“Eventually, yeah. What we did wasn't anything close to it. It was engineering a sex position.” Jeremiah taps one of the harness straps. “But afterward I started looking into suspension more generally.”
Micah looks at me.
I look at him.
Carter catches the exchange immediately. “You two already have thoughts.”
“We've been discussing shibari,” I say.
“For a while,” Micah adds.
Jeremiah's interest sharpens. “You ever rig?”
“No.”
“Neither of us has shibari training,” Micah says. “That's why it's stayed theoretical for now.”
“Good.”
I raise an eyebrow.
Jeremiah shrugs. “People who don't know what they don't know make me nervous.”
On that, we agree.
“Alexis is interested too,” he adds.
“In shibari?”
“Rope in general. The restraint, obviously, but she's interested in the mental side of it too.”
“Meditation through restriction,” Micah suggests.
Jeremiah looks at him. “Yes.”
Carter looks at Jeremiah and then gestures between all of us. “I feel like this conversation just became substantially more expensive.”
Jeremiah nods at him. “I know someone.”
“An instructor?” I ask.
“Professional rigger. He teaches.”
Micah straightens.
Jeremiah glances at Carter. “You've said you'd learn.”
Carter shrugs. “I'm interested. I also strongly prefer being taught how not to hurt her in the process.”
“A reassuring minimum standard,” I offer with a smile.
“Thank you.”