Governor (Governor Trilogy 1)

by Lesli Richardson

  I can’t lie and say the thought isn’t hotter than hell, or something I haven’t already fantasized about countless times, because my cock is once again hard. It’s sort of a natural lie detector.

  While I can tell Carter’s is sort of stiff, he doesn’t rub one out this morning. I suspect he’s a grower, not a shower, but I haven’t actually seen him fully hard yet. Yesterday morning, he had me pinned against the wall and I couldn’t look.

  Not that I need to know. I’m just…you know, curious.

  After our shower, I’m back in my leather collar and cuffs to cook breakfast. We haven’t heard from Susa yet, but we don’t want to be surprised. As sadistic as Carter claims to be, that’s not how he wants to spring the news on her about what’s going on.

  Definitely not how I want her to find out, either.

  I’m still terrified him telling her might mean an end to our friendship with her, but I trust Carter. If he says it won’t…then it won’t.

  This is the point in the story where if a friend were confiding all this to me, I’d stop them, ask them what the fucking hell they think they’re doing, and tell them they’re a fucking idiot, plus insane, to boot. Anyone I told this to would likely say that to me.

  Not that I have anyone to tell this to.

  Except…they haven’t seen Carter’s scars. They haven’t listened to him in the grip of a nightmare.

  They don’t know Carter.

  I do.

  For the first time in my life, I feel a greater sense of purpose than I ever have before, and I know this is a path I want to walk.

  Have to walk.

  Need to walk.

  Sitting with the butt plug in takes a little getting used to, but fortunately we’re eating on the sofa again—me sitting on a towel, of course—so it’s soft.

  Yay.

  After breakfast and cleaning up, Carter receives a text from Susa that she’s on her way and will probably arrive in less than three hours. We have to study today, but first Carter wants me to practice my positions for a few minutes.

  I kneel on the floor in front of the couch, where I was yesterday.

  The velvety, dark calm returns to my brain while I do, and I savor it.

  Carter notices, smiling at me from his place on the couch as I move from Devotion into Primed. “Subspace already, boy?”

  “Is that what it’s called, Sir?”

  “That’s what it’s called. By the way, can’t remember if I told you this or not, but Primed is always done naked. I might put you in the other positions while you’re clothed when we’re alone and only have a few minutes, but Primed is always naked.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He cocks his head. “Don’t want to ask me why?”

  “Does it matter, Sir?”

  His gaze narrows and hints of a smile curve his lips. “You’re really learning fast, aren’t you, boy?”

  “I hope so, Sir.”

  “Primed is for me. You’re completely open to me, exposed, vulnerable, ready. It means you trust me, you’re submitting to me in any way I choose, and you understand you’re under my control.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He leans forward and rubs my head. “Good boy. Go take out the butt plug, wash and dry it, and put it with your things, along with the leather cuffs and collar. Day collar stays on. Same T-shirt and shorts you wore yesterday. Everything else can go in the car, except for our computers and books and stuff. Make sure her bed is made like I’ve taught you. Then patrol the house, go through and empty all the garbage cans into a garbage bag, and put it in the bin in the garage. Make sure we haven’t overlooked anything. There should be no trace of what we’ve been doing, except for my marks on your flesh and your day collar.”

  “Yes, Sir.” I go to do as I’m told and realize that my life has not only shifted completely off its foundation since Friday night…

  It’s now sitting atop a far more stable one.

  * * * *

  I manage to get some studying done. Not a lot, but Carter and his nearly perfect memory would put anyone to shame, so I try not to feel badly about that.

  The rest of me feels…

  Amazing.

  Nervous as hell awaiting Susa’s return, though.

  She’s texted both of us that she’s less than twenty minutes away and is stopping for gas. Carter puts me on the floor in Loyalty one last time, right in front of the couch, where he can sit there with his hand on my bowed head.

  “I want you to address Susa as ‘ma’am’ from now on, boy. Understand?”

  More fear fills me, but I tamp it back. “Yes, Sir.”

  “And you follow my lead.”

  Now, I know. This talk will happen tonight, and it terrifies the fuck out of me.

  “Devotion.”

  Without thinking, I bring my knees together and roll my back, breathing out, clearing my mind as I bow.

  His hand remains on my head, moving with me.

  When Carter next speaks, his voice sounds deeper, stronger, and he grips my hair firmly, in control. “Do you trust me, boy?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Do you really want to be owned by me?”

  I swallow hard. “Yes, Sir.” In less than forty-eight hours, I’ve hard-shifted completely to the position that the thought of not being owned by Carter terrifies me.

  He makes a soft, pained oomph as he gets off the couch and lowers himself to the floor. He presses his face against the right side of my head, his lips by my ear.

  “I swear to you I will never let you fall, boy. If I am alive, I will catch you. Always. No matter what we do, no matter what happens, never forget that.”

  I struggle not to cry, again, especially so close to Susa’s return. Before Carter, I was a master at masking my emotions.

  Now? I’m an emotional wreck. “Yes, Sir. Thank you.”

  He nuzzles the side of my head for a moment. “My very good boy. You’ve made me so proud this weekend.” He ruffles my hair again and sits back. “Help me up, please.”

  I break position and stand. Carter holds his hands up to me. As I grip them, our eyes meet, and something deep inside my soul goes blissfully quiet for the first time…ever.

  I instinctively know this man will be in my life for the rest of my life.

  Turns out I’m good with that.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I’m standing at the front door, waiting, watching through the viewfinder for Susa’s arrival.

  “She’s here, Sir,” I call out when she pulls into the driveway.

  “Go on, boy. I’ll be right there.”

  Despite my nerves I’m nearly vibrating with anticipation to see her again. I hurry out so I can open her driver’s door for her, basking in the playful smile she gives me when I do.

  “Welcome home, Ma’am.”

  Carter didn’t specify it had to be a capital-M Ma’am, but it is, in my mind.

  “Thank you,” she says. I offer her my hand to help her out. She’s wearing a black pencil skirt and a grey blouse, and her brown hair is down, straight, flowing around her shoulders. She’s wearing light makeup, and I suspect she was at a brunch this morning. Like Carter, she already looks like an attorney. If I didn’t know how old she is, I would think she was already graduated and in practice.

  Once she steps out of the car, I open the back door to grab her overnight bag and laptop case from the backseat. I turn to find her wearing a playful smile and I know I’m blushing, but I can’t help it.

  She’s barefoot and holding a pair of pumps in her hand. It’s not uncommon for her to drive barefoot when she’s wearing dressy shoes. In the house, she’s nearly always barefoot.

  She rises up on her toes to kiss my cheek. “Thank you for carrying my things inside. You can put them on my bed.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  I turn and see Carter smiling from where he’s stepped just outside the front door. As I hurry past him, he whispers, “Good boy,” to me.

  I set her things on the end of
her bed, and when I emerge, Carter’s shutting the door behind her.

  “So how was your birthday celebration?” she asks me.

  “Good. A little over-imbibing, but Carter took good care of me.”

  She wears a playful smile. “I’m sure he did.”

  “I washed your sheets and remade the bed, Ma’am. And the towels. Everything’s clean.”

  “Aw, thank you, sweetie. You didn’t have to do that.”

  Yes, I did, because Carter told me to. Although I didn’t need Carter’s order to do it—I would have done it anyway. “You’re welcome, Ma’am.”

  “Are y’all hungry?” she asks.

  Carter smiles. “Worked up an appetite this morning,” he says.

  “Let me go change clothes, and we’ll get started on dinner. It’ll take us a little while to put it together.

  A few minutes later, she returns. She’s scrubbed her makeup off, pulled her hair up in a messy bun, and wears the oversized USF Bulls T-shirt over shorts. She looks absolutely adorable.

  “God, I’m glad to be home. When I wasn’t at the conference with Daddy, Momma was all over me worrying about me.”

  “Worrying how?” Carter asks.

  “Just being a typical mo—” She sucks on her lower lip as her blue gaze falls on me. “Sorry,” she softly says. “I didn’t mean to…”

  I save her. “Hey, I know my mother’s the exception, not the rule. It doesn’t bother me. I like hearing about your and Carter’s families.”

  She walks over to me and hugs me, long and hard, and I savor it. Over her shoulder, I watch Carter. He’s leaning against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed over his chest, and he’s wearing that playful smirk of his.

  “It’s so good to be home,” she mutters against my shoulder. “I missed you guys.”

  “We missed you, too,” I say.

  She releases me and steps over to Carter, hugging him.

  What surprises me is that I can’t identify the source of the green ripple of jealousy that winds through me.

  Is it jealousy that she’s hugging him? Or that he’s hugging her?

  Before, I would have said the first.

  Now?

  I’m not sure.

  It unsettles me. Not enough to make me want to stop what Carter and I have started, but I know it’ll end up being a topic of conversation between us at some point in the future.

  * * * *

  This is apparently another of those meals that Susa doesn’t need a recipe to make. She shows me how to layer the dough in the baking dish, supervises me making the spinach and cheese filling, and once it’s all assembled and in the oven, she reaches up and ruffles my hair.

  “Good job, you.”

  I freeze for a moment, because the way she did it reminds me of Carter.

  Only…I get hard.

  I mean, really hard. Instantaneously hard.

  And I’m freeballing it. I hope she doesn’t notice.

  “Thank you, Ma’am.”

  She cocks her head at me, then looks at Carter, her gaze narrowing a little, like she’s putting something together in her mind.

  Carter takes the opportunity and runs with it. “We’d like to talk to you about something.”

  Oh, shit.

  Well, that’s one way to kill my boner.

  “About what?” she asks.

  He’s been sitting at the counter, on one of the barstools. Now he climbs down, moving a little slowly and stiffly from his pain, and walks over to us.

  “So, Owen and I have been doing some talking this weekend,” he starts.

  I pray I don’t end up having a panic attack.

  “About what?” she asks.

  “A lot of things. But primarily, about the future, and our relationship to each other.” He stands next to me as his hand settles on my right shoulder and squeezes, reassuring me. “Long story short, Owen likes to be of service. He’s happiest when he’s taking care of people. Like you and me.”

  Her eyes are focused on mine now. I know my cheeks are hot, red, and I’m struggling not to hyperventilate, but I can’t speak.

  “Like bringing in my things?” But she says it slowly, like she’s already ten steps beyond our current point in the conversation and trying not to rush ahead of Carter in case she’s wrong.

  “Yes. Like doing the dishes, helping cook dinner. Laundry.”

  “He’s a submissive.”

  She doesn’t ask it—she says it.

  I guess it shouldn’t shock me that she knows that, but I swallow hard anyway.

  Carter squeezes my shoulder again. “Yes. And he’d like to formally serve me and you. Doing things like that for us.”

  Her focus shifts to Carter for a long moment, nearly too long. Like they’re the ones now having a silent conversation and I’m not privy to it.

  I’m not sure how that makes me feel.

  She turns back to me, staring up at me for an almost uncomfortably long time. Her next question shocks me so much it takes me a moment to answer. “What are your hard limits?”

  I glance over to Carter, who gives my shoulder another squeeze.

  “I-I…” I take a deep breath. “I have to put schoolwork first,” I finally say. “No compromising pictures. I don’t date.” She glances at Carter again, another brief, silent conversation, then back to me. But she doesn’t interrupt me, so I continue. “I’m to help you with things around the house, like I do now.”

  When I don’t continue, she focuses on Carter.

  This time when he squeezes my shoulder, it’s firm, more a command. “Tell her the rest, boy,” he softly orders.

  Now I can’t look her in the eyes. I stare at her feet, at her toenails, which are neatly painted the same shade of dark fuchsia as her fingernails. “Sir controls my orgasms.”

  Carter takes over, another shoulder squeeze silencing me. “He needs a lovingly firm hand. He wants to serve. Absolutely no emotional or mental humiliation. I’m using domestic discipline with him, and rituals, protocols. He’s to call you Ma’am, and to call me Sir. No one can learn about this, meaning absolutely no compromising pictures.”

  A hand gently grips my chin—Hers. She tips my head up, forcing me to look her in the eyes. “Are you happy with this?” she softly asks.

  “Yes, Ma’am. I didn’t know how much I needed it.”

  “He’s not allowed to lie,” Carter adds.

  “Safewords?” she asks.

  “Our real names,” Carter says. “He’s to follow orders, or flip into vanilla mode to explain why.”

  She stares at me for so long I do what I didn’t want to do. The prickle of tears stings my eyes as her face blurs.

  But she pulls me in for a hug, holding me as I cry.

  I feel Carter’s arms wrap around both of us, from the side. “And there was a lot of that this weekend,” he sadly says. “That bitch has totally fucked our boy’s head. I want to teach him what healthy love and relationships feel like.” His hand strokes my hair. “We can do this. I’ve promised him that as long as he wants to do this, I’ll take care of him.”

  “Okay,” she simply says after a long moment, her hand gently rubbing my back as she holds me. “Then we’ll do it together.” She ends the hug but cups my face with her hands. “You’ll be our good boy, won’t you?”

  Now I’m seriously crying as I nod. “Yes, Ma’am. I want to be your good boy.”

  Carter steps away to grab me a piece of paper towel, but she takes it from him and wipes my face.

  She wears a kind smile. “I think we’ll be doing a lot of talking tonight, won’t we?”

  Overcome with emotion, I nod as I go in for another hug and she holds me.

  She ruffles my hair. “Sweetie, it’s going to take a lot more than you wanting to be our obedient pet to send me running. Trust me, the stories I’ve heard about politicians and their secrets? This is tame.”

  * * * *

  Carter shows her my chain collar, and she smiles as she runs her fingers over it. “I like
it.”

  Carter has me take my shirt off but leave my shorts on, which relieves me. Carter and Susa are doing most of the talking, but I’m the prime topic of conversation instead of politics. I’m still battling bouts of tears and feeling pretty damn angry at myself over that.

  Finally, Carter holds my face the way Susa did and waits until I focus on him. “You’re in decompression mode,” Carter tells me. “You’ve literally survived a lifetime of abuse. Honestly? I’d be more worried about you if you weren’t crying and acting emotional right now.”

  I’m not sure if he’s trying to humor me, but I opt to go with the default—Carter doesn’t bullshit me.

  We continue cooking dinner, Susa showing me how to make meatballs, Carter closely watching me. When we’re down to waiting for the food to finish cooking, Susa leads me out to the living room, where she sits on the sofa where Carter had been sitting earlier.

  “Go ahead and kneel for me,” she says.

  I glance at Carter, who stands next to where she’s sitting, his arms once again crossed over his chest.

  He nods.

  I sink to my knees in front of her. This is…

  It’s better than a fantasy come to life.

  This is real.

  She’s real.

  “At Ease,” she softly says.

  I assume the position as Carter tells her about it. She puts me through the rest of the positions, ending with me in Devotion, and I feel subspace pulling my mind down into its comforting depths.

  While I kneel there, I feel a hand on my head.

  It’s not Carter’s.

  “I read a lot,” Susa says. “A lot. Including romance books, which I love, because it’s pure escapism for me. I’ve read BDSM fiction that would curl your hair. Carter’s right, though, sweetie. You have some pretty deep emotional wounds. Is this what you want to do?”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” I say.

  She strokes my hair again. “Okay. I already told you both that no one’s taking me away from you two, and I haven’t been dating, either, so add me to that pledge. I’ve had more fun with you both since we’ve met than I ever have.”

  “You hear that, boy?” Carter sounds amused. “You can say it.”