Pausing, I think for a moment. No, that’strust, present-tense. Istilltrust him, as weird as that might sound.
Believe me, Iknowit sounds weird.
I feel…wrung out. More than just physically, but emotionally.
He’s still holding me, and I’m sure sitting on a tile floor isn’t good for his pain, but he’s not making any moves like he’s uncomfortable.
“Better?” he asks, back to his usual voice.
“Are we still…” I don’t even know how to ask. “Sir, or Carter?”
“We’re always Sir and boy by default, unless one of us specifically flips it back.”
“Okay.” I think about it for a moment. “I mean, yes, Sir.”
“Do you want to talk about this now or later?”
Now is as good as any time. “Now?”
A chuckle. “Is that a question or a response, boy?”
“A response, Sir?”
Another laugh. “So, here’s the thing,” he says. “To answer what I’m sure is your first question, no, I’m not going to demand or even ask you to reciprocate. If you ever want to volunteer, I’d likely say yes, depending on the circumstances. But if I’m going to control your orgasms, I’d be a pretty shitty Sir if I didn’t give you relief from time to time. While orgasm control turns me on, long-term chastity does not. I’ll also be using orgasms as rewards.”
“Are you gay?”
“No.”
Okay, so this doesn’t really make sense to me, but maybe that’s his…point? I don’t know.
I lie there, not wanting to move yet. I finally force myself to ask the next question. “Why did I start crying?”
“That’s not uncommon, especially after someone’s first scene. Cathartic emotional release.” He rubs his chin in my hair. “You’re starved for affection, for positive reinforcement.”
He’s not wrong, even if I don’t understand any of this.
“Do you need me to move yet, Sir?”
“No, I’m okay, boy. If I need you to move, I’ll say so.”
I draw in a deep, shuddering breath. Even the few times I’d been with girls, there was always something…missing. I didn’t know at the time if it was something lacking within me or more to do with them. My very first time, during my senior year of high school, she hadn’t been a virgin and she’d said she enjoyed it with me, yet that experience left me feeling empty later, emotionally speaking.
So had my other two times.
Also, I guess it’s pretty telling I only had one time with each of them. The girl I briefly dated last year broke things off with me shortly after the first time we slept together. Said it was her, not me.
Maybe I wasn’t dominant enough for them.
This, however, feels like what I wish those times had felt like despite the way I feel…scrambled. Now, it’s like there’s a firm anchor keeping me in the moment, gently weighing me down, attached to the present.
“Have you…taken charge of guys before like this, Sir?”
“Have I topped men? Yes. Men and women.”
A comfortable quiet descends upon us. I’ve never felt a need to fill the silence with Carter the way I do with my mother.
Ever.
