“Stay here for a moment,” he finally says, and with the authority of someone who’s used to being obeyed, he slides out of the booth and walks away without even waiting for my answer. The fact that I find that somehow hot is concerning. Still, when he returns a minute later, holding something in his hand I can’t see, I haven’t moved a muscle.
He sits back down into the booth, then crooks his finger to gesture me over. I’m on my feet before I even consciously register it, which sends a wave of annoyance through me. Dammit, I’ve worked too hard at becoming independent and strong to allow another man to take charge of me like that.
But I’ve gotten up already, so I may as well continue now, and I stand where he points his fingers.
“Can I do a little experiment with you?” Marshall asks.
Something tells me I may regret this, but I’m also curious. “Sure.”
“Yes or no, please.”
“Yes.”
“And your safewords?”
Safewords? What the hell does he have planned? I swallow. “Red to stop, yellow to slow down.”
“Kneel,” he says.
“Excuse me?”
“Rule number one. You address your Dom as Sir.”
“You’re not my Dom.”
He raises an eyebrow, and it’s amazing how effective he can utilize that one gesture. Even the man’s damn eyebrow is dominant, for fuck’s sake. “Is that what you’re gonna tell Harley, boy?”
Boy. Even though I’m sure he said it to remind me of my place in our particular pecking order, it still hits me hard. That word has meaning. A deeper layer I can’t quite put my finger on. All I know is that it sinks inside me, touching someplace inside me that’s hungry for more. Am I really that desperate for a bit of attention that it’s come to this?
“I don’t see how it’s any of your concern what I will or will not call Harley.”
Marshall rises from the booth, and I scramble back, but a strong hand around my wrist prevents me from stepping back farther.
“Stay here.” Much to my surprise, he doesn’t sound angry but...intrigued? His eyes burn dark, intense. My brain is struggling to come up with a coherent sentence in response but coming up blank.
His left hand is still circling my wrist, holding it in a way that doesn’t hurt but makes crystal clear who’s in charge here. His right hand comes up to my face, and he grabs my chin between his thumb and index finger, making me look him in his eyes.
“I will decide what is or is not of my concern, boy. That’s not your call to make. Hunter has hired me as a consultant, which means I’m in charge of all shoots. To make things easier from now on, consider me your boss. That means if I tell you something, you obey.”
Yeah, no. That’s not gonna fly with me. “Pretty sure that’s not how it works, according to not only my employment contract but also the state of Nevada, let alone the constitution. Nowhere does it say that when you tell me to jump, I have to ask how high.”
Marshall’s mouth pulls up at one corner, and his eyes narrow just a bit. “I didn’t tell you to jump, boy. I told you to kneel.”
I swallow. “Same difference.”
“Boy, if you can’t even follow a simple order, how the fuck do you expect to make it through these shoots? What do you think Harley is gonna ask you to do?”
He’s got a point, of course. Not that I intend to admit it. I shrug. “I’m willing to concede he’s my Dom, at least during those scenes. So that’s different.”
“Is it now?”
I raise my chin. “Yes.” I almost tag on Sir out of habit but hold back at the last moment. Thank fuck. I wouldn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
He slowly shakes his head. “Boy, you’re in so much trouble with all this. I don’t even know where to start. But you know what? I’ll let Harley sort that shit out. For now, humor me for a five-minute experiment, if you would be so inclined, please, and thank you?”
Fear sloshes in my stomach, and I regret my bratty attitude, but there’s no turning back now. “Sure. What can I do for you?”
“Kneel,” he says, then steps behind me.
Yeah, I walked straight into that one. I can’t refuse now, and I sink to my knees, almost hitting the table and but correcting myself. Ouch. “Okay, kneeling. Now what?”
“Hold your hands behind your back.”
By now, I’m kinda forced to go through with it, so I do as he says.
“I’m gonna tie a rope around your arms and chest and immobilize you.”
He crouches down, loops a rope around my hands, pulls it tight, and knots it faster than I can blink. But he’s not finished yet, and before I can say a word, he winds the rope around my shoulders and chest, then under my arms, and around my waist. When he’s done, my upper body is trussed up like a stuffed turkey.
“What is this for?” I ask, uneasiness settling in my stomach.
He steps in front of me, looking at me with brooding eyes. “How does it feel?”
I instinctively try to move my hands, and I can’t. The rope is so tight around me I can’t lift a finger. A sliver of panic infuses the uneasiness now. “I don’t like this.”
“Are you safewording?” Marshall asks, and it eases some of my discomfort, though my heart is still racing. I do have a way out.
“No,” I whisper.
He studies me for a moment, then steps closer, bringing his crotch within an inch of my face. “If I were so inclined, I could fuck your mouth until you choked on my cock, and you couldn’t do a damn thing to stop me. No one here would interfere because they’d assume we both know what we’re doing unless you utter what could be a safeword.”
Sweat breaks out all over my body, but it’s a cold sweat. “Marshall…” My voice quivers.
He takes one look at me, then reaches over and tugs on the rope. Somehow, the whole construction falls free of my upper body. With another flick of his wrist, my hands are free as well. I’m shaking a little. He pulls me up on the bench and wraps his arm around me. “Drink some water,” he says, his voice kind now.
It takes me a minute or two to get rid of the fear in my system and my heartbeat is back to normal. All the time, Marshall holds me close, his body providing a comfort I don’t understand.
“Why did you do that?” I finally ask.
He lets go of me but tilts my chin so I meet his eyes. “Because you seem to think this is all a joke. There’s no such thing as just ropes. Being tied down and helpless is one of the scariest sensations there is, and it requires a great amount of trust in your partner, your Dom. You’re at his mercy, and it’ll fuck with your head like nothing else. You couldn’t last even a minute on your knees for me, so think of that the next time you wave off my concern.”
4
Marshall
To say I’m uncomfortable is an understatement. After I showed Byron just how helpless bondage makes a sub, just how serious participating in kink is, we didn’t stay at the club much longer. In all honesty, it was a risky move on my part, but I wanted to get it clearly across to him that this isn’t a game. He seemed anxious after that, and I don’t blame him. He should be anxious. He’s playing with fire, and he doesn’t know the first thing about it.