Except Elliot was my pet first.
My love.
My responsibility.
He’s in this office right now because of me, my direct involvement, meaning I can’t simply walk away from him even if I didn’t love him as much as I do.
I’m a sadist but I’m not evil.
At least, I’d like to think I’m not evil.
Asshole? Yes, I am, more than I care to admit. Yesterday is proof of that.
But I never meant for anyone to get hurt. I thought for sure Elliot would come to love Jordan as much as I do, and see how good Jordan would be not just for me, but for him, too. He sees how well things work between Chris, Shae, and Kev.
In my head, I’d hoped Elliot would welcome that kind of support system behind him.
He is, however, a very territorial pet. His territorial nature is every bit as strong as his obedient nature, putting them at war with each other.
He tried, though.
God, he tried. I can’t blame him there. Not in all fairness.
I keep a close eye on the time. We have a ten-minute window to sit here and do this before we leave for the Senate. He has an office there, too, but it’s strictly a ceremonial office, and he rarely works there. He prefers working here, or in his home office, if he’s not presiding over the Senate floor or taking in-person meetings, or needing to deal with NatSec issues.
Kev did a great job with the PR when they brought Elliot on board. His disability isn’t seen as a liability, but Elliot’s also given a little leeway by the press and the public because of it. We compensate for it in other ways, with photo ops of him hiking or jogging or doing some other physical activity, or of him helping build a house with Habitat for Humanity, walking shelter dogs, or something that portrays him as fit and able-bodied. Or we feed the press “inspirational” stories that are feel-good fluff pieces and annoy Elliot to no end—he dubbed them “inspirational ableist porn”—but he understands the optics.
Kev is a master of optics and has yet to steer any of us wrong. I know Jordan spent many an hour in conversation with him, learning from him, studying his strategies and tactics and techniques, learning how to run a campaign, and was quickly coming into his own in terms of managing optics and the implementation of media campaigns.
This is another reason Jordan’s loss guts me, because I’d counted on him helping Elliot make his last big “thing” a reality. To help get Elliot elected POTUS, so that, maybe, once he ended his term or terms, he would finally realize what he’d sought throughout all these years wasrightin front of him.
Mainly…me.
None of this will ever be spoken to Elliot, though. I can’t.
I will not do that to my pet. This self-inflicted pain is something I need to figure out how to process and deal with on my own.
After another couple of minutes, I tip Elliot’s head back and stare into his blue eyes while I stroke his hair. “You’ve got this, pet. I have faith in you, and I’m very proud of you.”
How sad is it that I literally see how that energizes him? He takes a deep breath, holds it, lets it out, and starts upshifting into VP mode again.
I stand and hold out a hand to help him to his feet, then I pull him in for one last long hug and kiss. “Ready to go, Vice President Woodley?”
He nods and reaches for his glasses, seating them on his face. “Ready, Leo.” He catches my hand and tightly squeezes it, pausing, staring into my eyes. “Thank you, Master,” he whispers.
I turn my hand so I can squeeze his back. “Anything for my pet.”
Chapter Eleven
Then
I step past Elliot and return to my bedroom, where I dig out a black, nondescript rolling suitcase from where it’s buried in the back of my closet. After dragging it out, I lay it on the bedroom floor and unzip it. Inside the front flap, in the large zipper pouch there, I find exactly what I’m looking for.
A black leather collar.
Nothing fancy. I picked it up from an online store a few years ago and it’s seen a little use. Not what I’d want for Elliot for a permanent collar. It’s just a starting point.
I also dig out the matching leather wrist and ankle cuffs. After thinking about it, I leave the ankle cuffs in the bag. Eventually, I’ll have him wear one but not tonight. I don’t want to make him self-conscious by calling attention to his leg again.
