Chapter 14 #2
“I will, Sir. I don’t intend to need to, but if I do, I will.”
“The note-thing goes for anything you want or need but aren’t comfortable asking for. No promises you’ll get it, but communication is important. You can talk to me about anything, preferably outside of high-protocol, but if you need to say something inside it, figure out how to do so respectfully.”
I wasn’t sure what to say, so I said, “Thank you, Sir.”
He narrowed his eyes. “If you act up to see what happens after you’ve assured me you won’t, things will be so much worse for you.”
I wasn’t sure where to look, and I was ready to change the conversation, so I told him, “You haven’t given me rules about eye contact, Sir.”
“I add rules slowly, but that one’s coming up soon, so we can address it now.
I expect eye contact when you speak to me, but otherwise, you’ll look at my chest level when we are seated, and at the level of my cock when I’m standing.
If you’re kneeling, you’ll stare at my cock.
Doesn’t matter if you can see it or not, that’s where your eyes stay. ”
“Thank you, Sir. May I ask another question?”
A grin. “You may.”
“If I need to let you know something when we’re in high protocol, is there a way to ask permission to speak, Sir?”
“Do you know what obeisance is? As a pose? Some call it humble.”
I stared at him. “You’ve read Gor?”
“A few chapters here and there. The poses are of value, so I use them. Answer the question, cunt, and you’ll find your mouth full of soap suds if you forget the honorific again.”
“I’m sorry, Sir. Truly. And yes, I know what the humble pose is.”
“I like for the arms to be straight over the head rather than crossed. Tits on the floor, forehead and nose on the floor, back arched sharply, ass high. That’s how you ask for permission to speak.
If I grant it, and there’s no guarantee I will, but if I do, you go to Nadu, meet my gaze, and say what you need to say.
If you annoy me with a question that could’ve waited, I won’t be pleased, so be certain it’s something that needs to be asked in that moment. ”
I swallowed hard, my insides firing on every cylinder, but said, “Thank you for answering, Sir. Do you differentiate between consequences and punishment?”
He furrowed his brow a second before shaking his head.
“I don’t. Wrong is wrong, whether intentional or not.
” He sat back. “I don’t keep brats around, for the record.
Intentionally breaking rules doesn’t work for me.
Once or twice at the start is expected, though I try to circumvent that by letting you know I expect you to ask for maintenance before you choose to misbehave on purpose, but once all the growing pains get worked out, I expect perfect obedience. ”
The words settled low in my stomach. Not fear, exactly, but confirmation of what I’d already suspected about the levels of obedience he was demanding.
I wanted, no, I needed someone who expected to be obeyed — someone who isn’t interested in games and doesn’t find humor in a submissive who acts out to get attention.
He wanted actual obedience — the kind that required self-control.
He was exactly the kind of Dom I’d been looking for, but still, it was a little terrifying.
He shook his head. “I should define what I mean by perfect obedience — it means you do your best to obey and almost always get it right. When you don’t, it’s an oversight and not intentional. We correct the oversight, and you’re careful not to make the same mistake again.”
My pulse kicked up, and it felt important he understand he was giving me what I want, so I told him, “I dated someone once who…” I shook my head.
“Dated isn’t accurate. We met in a club and our kinks mostly matched up, so I stayed with him a week at a time here and there, a few times a year.
Anyway, Sir, he liked to punish bad behavior, and he was frustrated that I didn’t give him enough opportunities to punish me, so he’d order me to be bad, sometimes, then punish me for it. ”
I realized I’d been looking at my plate, so I met his gaze. “Totally fucked up, right, Sir? Still, it worked for me despite the fact I hated the punishment.”
“I occasionally enjoy role-play. Not something that happens when you’re in high-protocol, and yes, that means the rules are different.
You become the person I dress you up to be — whore and john, pirate and wench, professor and student, boss and employee.
” He shrugged. “Totally up to my moods. If you have a role-play you’d like to act out, you’re more than welcome to talk to me about it when we aren’t in high-protocol.
I may or may not be interested, but I appreciate input during appropriate times. ”
“Difficult question, Sir. Or, awkward, I guess. Bikers have kind of a reputation for passing women around.”
He lifted a brow and sat back. “That was a statement. I’m under the impression investigative reporters know how to ask questions.”
Fuck. I took a drink and asked my question. It was rude and blunt, but it couldn’t be helped. “I’m trying to figure out if you expect to be able to loan me out or share me, Sir.”
“Do you want to be shared? Ever been fucked by two men before?”