Governor (Governor Trilogy 1)

by Lesli Richardson

  “No, Sir. It’s not.” But there’s already something inside me wanting to try to do better, to improve how long I can maintain it.

  To earn his praise and make him smile.

  Loyalty is easier, my head bowed, knees not quite so far apart, my left hand flat on my thigh, my right hand flat on the floor.

  “It’s called that because it resembles swearing an oath,” Carter explains.

  Devotion is performed with my knees together, a full formal bow, my hands flat on the floor in front of me, forehead touching the floor, back rounded. When I assume that position, I hear him move, then his hand rests on my head.

  “Every night before bed,” he quietly says, “you will perform this at the side of my bed for me and hold it until I release you. Understand?”

  The name of the pose is self-explanatory, as is this ritual. “Yes, Sir.”

  He rubs my head and peace fills me.

  “Primed.”

  I sit up and assume the position. Carter circles me, stopping behind me.

  “How’d you feel when you saw what I bought today, boy?”

  “Curious, Sir. And a little scared.”

  I flinch when his voice next comes by my right ear. “Why scared?”

  “All the rope. The riding crops.”

  “Not the butt plugs?” He sounds very amused.

  “Those too, Sir.” But dark and secret shadows inside me stretched their wings and smiled with fanged teeth barely kept hidden when I thought about what Carter would probably do to me with those.

  Or what Susa might do to me.

  He returns to the couch and spends the next half hour or so putting me through the various positions. I think my favorite is Loyalty, mostly because of the name and the feelings it invokes in me.

  By the time he allows me to stand again, my knees are killing me.

  Now the kneepads make sense.

  I hope.

  He smiles. “Yes, the kneepads are for you doing this. For when I decide you need a long session on the floor. Want you to appreciate how difficult these can be first, though. Go ahead and check the laundry, please.”

  I do, and what was in the dryer is ready to come out. I move a load from the washer to the dryer and bring in the dry clothes to fold them.

  When I do, I find him braiding rope onto one of the panic snaps. Fascinated, I watch. I’ve never seen that done before, the way he’s splicing the end of the rope into itself.

  He watches me watching him and smiles. “Ironically, I learned this in Boy Scouts.”

  When he’s finished, he’s created a piece of rope that’s approximately forty feet long and has panic snaps braided onto both ends. He neatly coils and stows the remainder of the rope in a plastic shopping bag.

  “I’ll cut that into shorter sections later,” he says.

  “Can I ask a stupid question, Sir?”

  He smiles and picks up a small metal ring, one of two he’s also purchased. He threads the ring onto the rope and then loops the end of the rope around the coffee table leg, hooking the panic snap to the ring before pulling the rope taut.

  Ah.

  Carter hooks the other panic snap to my right ankle cuff. It’s amazing that I’ve grown accustomed to wearing the cuffs so quickly. I stupidly stand there, staring at my foot.

  “Of course you may ask, boy.”

  “Why?”

  Carter smirks. “Since we’ll be limited in some things we can do, I’m going to improvise. Everything I do to you has a greater purpose. Teaching patience, self-control, obedience. Willful disobedience when necessary. Protecting the property. Sometimes, just for sadistic funsies and fucking with you, but not until later, when you’ve learned this side of me better and know what’s play and what’s serious.”

  He unclips the rope from my ankle and the table. “Trust. Routines. I will start small and build you up. This is for our dorm room.” He coils the rope. “It’s long enough to give you full movement inside our room and the bathroom. You’ll wear it at night, and when you’re in the room when I’m not there. Just like with your collar, you’re not allowed to remove it without permission, only for pre-determined reasons and emergencies. I will take it off you every morning.”

  “What if someone sees it?”

  “We’ll keep our room door closed and locked,” he says, handing the rope to me. “When you’re not using it, stow it in one of the totes under your bed. For now, go put it with our things.”

  “Yes, Sir.” I do that, then return to finish folding our laundry. When that’s completed and I’ve put it away, I return to the living room, where Carter’s watching TV on the couch, to find out what he wants me to do next.

  “Lunch, boy?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He pats his lap. “Spanking first.” He hasn’t changed out of his shirt and shorts.

  I’m still trying to sort all this out in my mind, but I find myself walking over and climbing into position over his lap once my brain’s processed the command.

  Carter’s hands settle on my ass and the back of my neck, his fingers there curling around my collar. “All right, boy. I’ll take this one a little easy on you. This’ll be fast, then you can make us lunch.”

  I have no conscious memory of ever being spanked as a child. My mother had far more effective and painful ways of punishing me without laying a hand on me, punishments that wounded me far deeper.

  A spanking would have at least been some attention she’d paid to me. Physical contact.

  As Carter gives me my first ever spanking, I feel not only his hand striking my flesh, but that blissful quiet returning to my brain. Part of my brain is still processing pain, stinging heat blooming in my ass cheeks, even the fact that I’ve started crying again.

  The other part of my brain feels like it’s dropped into that sweet, dark, velvety safe space once more, and everything in that world is peaceful perfection.

  When I finally come back to myself, I’m still facedown over Carter’s lap, sort of. He’s leaned over, mostly lying on the couch now with one arm draped over my back, basically stretched out next to me.

  “I think you’re right about something, Sir.”

  “What’s that, boy?”

  “I don’t know how to process intimacy, and I have no idea how to have a relationship with someone.”

  Carter strokes my hair. “It’s okay, boy. We’ll work on things together.”

  * * * *

  During the rest of the afternoon, I remain naked except for the cuffs, leather collar, and chain collar. Carter sheds his shirt but keeps his shorts on. He has me put down a towel to sit on the couch with him, but…

  Yeah. He was absolutely right about the fact that being naked feels comfortable now. I’m no longer feeling self-conscious about it.

  Some studying was done, mostly by Carter. He tried to help me by quizzing me on material, but I’m not sure any of it stuck. My brain is swirling with a mix of things new and old, the realization that many—okay, most—of my fantasies will actually come true, and not only is my best friend not horrified at me over them, he’s going to be the primary person to help me realize them, and more.

  My…Dominant.

  After recognizing my brain is done for the day, Carter takes pity on me and has me start dinner, and that’s when the drinking starts. Late that evening, we’re both deep in the bag and have almost completely emptied the two growlers Carter bought the evening before.

  I also now sport several marks across my ass from the riding crops, the dowel, and the piece of irrigation pipe—which packs a wicked punch.

  After eating dinner on the couch and cleaning up the dishes, I’m back on the couch again. This time, Carter has me lie with my head in his lap as we watch TV, and he strokes my hair in that delicious way that sends my brain spinning off again, even without the help of the alcohol.

  I feel…

  I feel cherished.

  Like a cherished pet, but still, cherished.

  I’ll take it, soak up every oun
ce of it, because literally for the first time in my life I feel wanted.

  I cannot begin to express how addictive that sensation is.

  Carter has me keep the cuffs and collar on when we go to bed, and he changes into boxers. I kneel at the side of the bed in Devotion as he’d told me to earlier, and I earn a good boy and a head rub for remembering and not needing to be reminded, even as drunk as I am.

  “Up. In bed.”

  I’m not exactly sure on what side of the bed I’m supposed to sleep, but he opens his arms to me to snuggle against his side.

  Of course I go, and yeah, I completely own that it makes me needy and clingy. But lying there with him and knowing nothing is expected of me is…

  It’s something I don’t want to lose. I also realize once we’re back at the dorm I won’t have this anymore, because of the size of our bunks, and that makes me sad.

  “What if Susa freaks out, Sir?” I ask in the darkness.

  He nuzzles the top of my head. “She won’t. That’s not a worry you need to have. Sir will take care of that.”

  Maybe Susa will want to snuggle in bed with her pet from time to time.

  I can only hope.

  * * * *

  At some point in the night, I awaken to realize we’ve rolled apart in our sleep. I’m lying on my right side, and I can’t feel Carter.

  When I hear the noise again, what must have awakened me in the first place, I immediately pinpoint the source—Carter.

  He’s having a nightmare, and it sounds bad.

  Without thinking, I roll over and seek him out in the darkness, drawing him into my arms. “Sir, it’s okay. Wake up. I’m right here. It’s just a nightmare.”

  I feel him start awake, his body tensing before silent sobs leave him trembling in my arms.

  The only thing I know to do is what I do, and that’s drape a leg over his, my left arm around him, and slide my right arm under his pillow so I’m cradling his body against mine.

  I feel his hand slide up my left arm to my elbow, where he wraps his fingers around my upper forearm.

  His breathing is already starting to slow and ease when he turns his head to face me, pressed against my chest.

  I’m wide awake now and stone-cold sober, but Carter almost immediately slips back into sleep.

  Okay, then.

  I still haven’t asked him about his nightmares, about what images haunt him. Absolutely, I will do this for him. Also turns out he’s completely right about something else.

  As I lie there cuddling with him, his hair soft against my face, I don’t feel the slightest bit self-conscious that I’m naked.

  I’d also be lying if I said having this kind of contact with another human being isn’t a little soothing to my soul, too.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Sunday morning I awaken early, still lying on my side with Carter sound asleep in my arms. I don’t move, afraid I’ll wake him.

  Susa is due back later this afternoon. She told Carter she’d text him when she left Tallahassee, so we’d have a timeframe.

  Part of me can’t wait to see her.

  Part of me feels…terrified.

  I don’t know when Carter will talk to her about all of this, but I know I’ll exist in an emotionally painful limbo until it finally breaks open.

  Carter eventually stirs in my arms, a long, deep inhale my first clue he’s awake.

  “Good morning, boy.” Carter’s usually smooth, mellow voice is always deeper first thing in the morning, with gravelly undertones until he’s been awake for a while.

  “Good morning, Sir.”

  Before I can process it, he’s flipped me over, onto my back. He straddles me, easily pinning my wrists over my head with his left hand. I’m sporting morning wood—kind of can’t help it—and my cock lays straight and rigid against my abs. I can see the front of Carter’s boxers are slightly tented, too. Now, being pinned down like this, my cock begins to throb and twitch.

  We’ve both looked at my cock, and then our gaze meets.

  “Please, Sir,” I whisper without even stopping to think about the ramifications.

  Who says I’m not an easily trainable pet?

  A slow, nearly evil smile spreads across his features. It’s filled with satisfaction, mirth, mayhem.

  “Ask me properly, boy.”

  “Please make me come, Sir.”

  “Hmm. Not quite needy enough. Let’s see how you can beg.”

  I don’t know what he needs from me, but there’s now a quickly growing puddle of pre-cum on my abs. “I’m horny, Sir. Please, may I have an orgasm? Will you please give me an orgasm? May I please come?” I’m not sure exactly what combination he’s looking for this morning, but I’ll keep asking until I hit upon the right phrase.

  I’m not too proud to beg for this. Not when, for the first time in my life, it feels like something worth begging for.

  Carter’s gaze narrows. Yes, he’s an extraordinary bastard, all right. I can see this is fun, to him.

  Actually…it’s kind of fun for me, too. I mean, in a needy, desperate sort of way. The thought of saying his name and stopping this, or disobeying him and jerking myself off without permission, doesn’t even cross my mind.

  “Who’s going to be my good boy today?”

  “Me, Sir.”

  “We need to study.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Another day off from PT,” he says. “We’ll start up again tomorrow. You’ll wear your leather cuffs and collar until we know Susa’s on her way. Chain collar stays on. I’ll take the tag off for you and put it on the leather collar. You’ll stay naked until then, too. Once I give you permission to get dressed, you may wear shorts and a T-shirt, no underwear. Until further notice, no underwear without permission. Wearing underwear without permission will result in punishment, and I don’t mean like yesterday, either. I’m talking real punishment you absolutely will not enjoy.”

  “Yes, Sir.” I’m practically squirming under him now, eager to please him because I’m desperate to earn this orgasm.

  “I want these sheets washed. And her towels, after we’ve showered, and her bed remade perfectly.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He leans in so close I almost think he’s going to kiss me.

  It shocks me to realize I won’t mind if he does. I can feel my cock rubbing against his abs as he stares down into my eyes.

  “Repeat after me—I am Sir’s boy, his cherished pet, and I belong to him.”

  I stare into his eyes. “I am Sir’s boy, his cherished pet, and I belong to him.”

  “Again.”

  “I am Sir’s boy, his cherished pet, and I belong to him.”

  He sits up a little, even while pinning my wrists over my head with his left hand. With his right, he scoops the puddle of pre-cum onto his fingers and wraps them around my cock. “Again.”

  “I-I am Sir’s boy, his cherished pet, and I belong to him.”

  “Do not stop. Keep repeating it until you come. You may come. Eyes open and on me. Whenever I give you an orgasm, unless you’re blindfolded or in a position where you can’t see me, your eyes are always open and on me.” He begins slowly stroking me.

  With the warm, strong heat of his hand engulfing my cock, I struggle to keep my eyes open and talk at the same time. “I am Sir’s boy, his cherished pet, and I belong to him. I…I am Sir’s boy, his cherished pet, and I belong to him. I am Sir’s boy…”

  The rational part of my brain recognizes operant conditioning and positive reinforcement when it sees it.

  But the rational part of my brain is also happy to sit back and enjoy the hell out of this. I start rocking my hips in time with Carter’s hand, my gaze locked on his as I repeat his mantra over and over until, not even a couple of minutes later, I’m exploding with sweet, blessed pleasure rolling through me.

  Far better than any orgasm I’ve ever given myself.

  “Good boy,” he coos, smiling.

  My eyes drop closed while I try to catch
my breath. He’s still pinning my wrists down and I make no move to get free.

  I don’t want to.

  I feel him lean in and he presses a tender kiss right in the middle of my forehead. “My very good boy,” he whispers.

  Honestly? I cannot remember the last time my mother ever kissed me.

  Carter holds me as I cry.

  * * * *

  We shower together before breakfast, because now Carter’s been spooged, although he doesn’t seem to mind. The chain collar stays on me even in the shower, but he’s swapped the tag out, attaching the tag’s split ring to the D-ring on the front of the leather collar.

  Before we finish our shower, Carter has me bend over and brace myself against the wall. While I suspect what’s coming next, I still flinch when I feel his lubed, gloved finger press for entrance.

  “Breathe through it, boy. Think how easy this’ll make annual exams at the doctor,” he teases.

  The truth is, I’ve played with myself like this before, in the shower. I don’t own any toys, because I never had the privacy when living at home.

  Thank god I never had anything like that at home. I can only imagine the torture my mother would have put me through if she’d discovered them.

  The smallest butt plug Carter bought, which wasn’t the smallest one they sold, slides inside me after only a few minutes of prep.

  “Can I ask why, Sir?” once he lightly smacks my ass and allows me to stand.

  “Sure.” He doesn’t say anything else as he strips off the glove and leans out of the shower to toss it into the garbage can.

  I realize I need to ask properly. “Why the butt plug, Sir?”

  He turns and smiles. “Because it amuses me, for starters. There will be other things in your future that you should be prepared for.” He arches an eyebrow. “If Susa ever orders you to bend over so she can fuck you with a strap-on, I’d better never hear a report from her that you didn’t obey her.”

  I swallow hard. “Yes, Sir,” I whisper.