When I return to the kitchen, I stand over him, loving how he looks sitting there and staring up at me.
His eyes widen when I hold up the collar and cuffs, but his cock also twitches in his lap and starts to harden, so I suspect he’s into it.
“Here’s something you need to understand about me, pet. I can run the whole gamut, from playful and sensual, to being a sadistic motherfucker who forces you to take whatever I make you take, and everything in between. But I needconsent.”
I watch him as I talk, looking for any sign of distress.
“This is what I need from you.” I shake the collar and cuffs. “You can always tell me no, or sayred. If you’ve asked me for something, unless you safeword, I won’t stop until I’m ready to.However, you also have to meet me halfway and ask for things. There are things about what we do that cannot be forced, and those things vary from play, to aspects of being in a relationship.
“Sometimes, all you’ll have to do is simply ask me, pet. Sometimes, you’ll have to do more than ask, and I’ll expect you to shoulder some of the burden. But everything starts with you being able to accept and take responsibility for wanting what it is that we do. For now, if you want to be my pampered pet this weekend, if youreallywant to wear these, I need you to ask me for them.”
His nostrils flare a little, his breathing grows heavy, and his pupils dilate. In his throat, his pulse point throbs.
Please, please,pleaselet him ask!
“Yes, Sir,” he says. “I want to wear them.” I hear the terror in his voice, but he gets brownie points for bravery.
Still, I need to push him a little around the edges. Give him some nudges. “Say, ‘Yes, Sir. I want to wear your collar and cuffs.’”
He sits up a little straighter. “Yes, Sir. Iwantto wear your collar and cuffs.”
“Good boy.” I carefully watch for any sign of fear or anxiety as I buckle the wrist cuffs on first, then the collar.
Reaching down to ruffle his hair, when I smile at him, his beaming smile in return makes me certain this is the right move.
If only I can keep him happy.
I pull the chair over and sit in it, in front of him, bracing my feet on his inner thighs. I hold my hands out to him and he places his hands in mine.
Gently squeezing his hands, I wait until his gaze settles on me. This is a little risky to get into right now, but I want him, and I want him to know where my mind’s at.
“I won’t ask you to come out. I won’t make any demands on you other than these: be honest with me, don’t put me at risk, don’t screw around on me. If you want to do this thing with me, then I’ll give you the same things in return. If you ever decide you want to date someone else, you need to tell me that. I’m willing to be poly under certain circumstances but only if you’re honest with me and use protection. If we’re exclusive, we don’t need protection. Nothing we do can interfere with your job or mine. And you can’t let me do something that’ll cause you harm. You’re under orders to interrupt me and tell me, if I am.”
During my talk his eyes widen a little, but he nods. “Yes, Sir.”
I lean in so I can kiss his hands. Then I press them against the insides of my spread thighs. “Why don’t you see if you can distract both of us until our dinner’s ready?”
Grinning, he leans in and swallows my cock. I hold on to his head, tangling my fingers in his hair and struggling not to let my heart get too far ahead of reality.
This might not last any longer than this weekend. Might not even last the full weekend.
Yet I still find myself…hopeful.
Loneliness is a fucking bitch. It can make you do stupid things on stupid timelines.
It can make you fall in love with a guy you’ve just met, even though you know better.
It can make you fall hard for a guy who’s not out, and who might never be able to make himself come out of that very dark and restrictive closet.
Worst of all…it can make you hope and dream.
That can lead to self-destruction.
* * * *
I have a small, two-person kitchen table wedged in a corner by my breakfast bar. I rarely use it for anything other than a catch-all, because I’m usually using the breakfast bar, or sitting on my sofa and eating while I watch TV.
We’ll eat in the living room tonight. I get everything ready, help Elliot into the desk chair, and return the cushion to the couch.
