Safeword: Arabesque (Safewords Book 9) (6 page)

“I told you I don’t do that stuff with girls, Chica,” he told her, his voice gruffer than he intended.

“No,” she said, not the least intimidated. “You said you don’t get rough with girls. You
can
do the D/s without the S&M, you know.” Frisco didn’t say anything and Sam said, “Just tell me she’s okay today, Frisco.”

He nodded. “She’s good. I made it good for her.”

“Was it good for you?” Frisco glared at her and she said, “If you’re this conflicted it must have been incredible.” He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to argue, but she jumped in to say, “Here’s what I think. You’ve been raised on a good helping of Catholic guilt and you were mostly raised by women. Your mamma taught you women are to be treasured and you’ve taken her words to heart, which is a good thing.”

She was pretty much right on the mark, and he nodded and said, “Men aren’t supposed to hit women.”

“Not unless they consent to it, and get off on it, but your mom isn’t going to tell you that part of it.” Sam wrinkled her nose. “Parents and kids aren’t supposed to have
those
kinds of conversations.”

No way would he let the conversation head that direction. He scrambled for a way to change the subject, and asked, “What exactly did Cassie say to you last night?”

“She told me she hadn’t been able to look at you during dinner because she was afraid everyone at the table would see how much she wanted you, and what she wanted from you. She said she wanted to be Cameron on the leash.” Sam took her first bite, swallowed, and added, “She’d looked some stuff up, but the online stuff looked mean. I think she was a little starry-eyed over the way Cam and I danced, too. Apparently some part of her psyche recognized Cam and I are the same, she just couldn’t figure it out.”

Frisco nodded and Sam continued. “I asked her if she’d be okay dating someone who whips men, and paddles them, and makes them clean his house and wash his car. She said that’d be great if he made them give her massages and wash her car, too.” Frisco laughed and shook his head, and Sam asked, “You’ve never considered the idea of a woman who might be okay with knowing who you truly are?”

He wanted to get up and walk out, but said, “No. What kind of a woman could like…”

He trailed off and Sam said, “I could probably introduce you to a half a dozen off the top of my head, more if I put some thought into it.”

He could only glare at her, and Sam continued without appearing to notice his disgruntled attitude. “I think she said something about needing to know she’d meet everyone you played with, and could watch sometimes. I got the idea she’d want to do more than watch.” Sam raised her eyebrows. “How do you feel about playing with a submissive man and woman at the same time?”

His cock liked the idea, but it was never going to happen. Sam seemed to be waiting for a response, though, so he rolled his eyes at her.

She smiled and continued. “I pointed out she’s turned you down so many times you may never ask her out again, and she said you hadn’t flirted with her since my bachelorette party.”

“Did she tell you to put her on her knees in front of me?” Yeah, he was still a little ticked over that. He understood Sam was trying to take care of Cassie, but there were other ways to go about it.

“Nope, I gave her the speech about the lifestyle requiring you be completely and totally honest with your partner, and told her if she wanted to be Cameron on the leash she’d have to tell you. I got the impression she wasn’t likely to tell you —
ever
— so I told her I’d see if you’d explain the kink to her, to get the conversation started.”

She’d been right, of course. Cassie would’ve never volunteered that kind of information. He shook his head. “You have a helluva way of getting a conversation started.”

“Why hasn’t Cassie returned my text? Should I be worried?”

“I haven’t been to sleep yet.” He looked at his watch. “She went home and crashed.”

Sam took a breath, blew it out. “Okay, don’t provide any details you aren’t comfortable sharing, but please at least give me a rough outline of how things went?”

He shook his head again. “It’s like she was just waiting for someone to come along and give her orders. I stuck to mostly sensation play, and since she’d already talked about the blindfold…” He shrugged and continued. “I took her to Waffle House around three this morning for breakfast. We dropped her car off at her house and drove up Lookout Mountain, and were on the View Trail in time to see the sunrise.”

“And you talked there until you took her home and put her to bed?” He nodded and she asked, “What did the two of you talk about?”

“I got a complete rundown of how she felt about every aspect of the scene, the parts she loved, the parts she’s not too sure about. We talked about her mom, her dad, her therapist, the relationship she has with both parents now.”

“Did you talk about your mom, your sisters, how you felt about the scene?”

He worked hard not to roll his eyes at her again. “No, this was about her, not me.”

Sam rolled
her
eyes and said, “Men can be such idiots.”

He smiled because she was annoying him, and it was either smile or snarl. He knew how to annoy back though, so he said, “Such language from a submissive.”

“Hey, I’m submissive to Ethan, not you.” She grinned and took a drink.

Yeah, she knew what he was doing and hadn’t taken the bait.

“Seriously,” she added, “this is about
both
of you. She needs to know what’s going on in your head just as much as you need to know what’s going on in hers. Relationships are a two way street.”

“Relationship?” He shook his head. “No, this is just me showing her the ropes.”

Sam raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure she knows this? I certainly get the idea, from the way you’re talking, that you’re beginning something emotional.”

He looked down a few seconds, afraid she was right and unsure how to stop it. “Okay, maybe,” he admitted. “I don’t know what it is but I’m not planning on a relationship.”

“Not planning on it, but if it happens, will you let it?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I need time to think.”

“I’ve never seen you this serious, so at least I know you’re thinking about it. The big thing is to be open and honest with Cassie, though. Right? You need to tell her about yourself, too.”

He rolled his eyes and said, “Yeah yeah.” He shook his head, leaned forward. “She asked if she could watch me with Cam. I told her I’d have to think about it. Do you think she’ll freak if she sees us in action?”

“Are you worried about her freaking because of the guy-on-guy action, or because of the BDSM parts?”

He thought about it a few seconds. “Both?”

“I don’t think you have to worry about the first. She’s been around her dad and his partner a lot. In fact, she has this idea gay partners are more likely to stay together than straight, married people.”

Frisco considered her statement a few seconds, and his heart dropped as he understood what Sam was saying. “Because her mom’s on her third marriage, and her dad is still with the man he left his family for.”

Sam nodded and Frisco wiped his hand across his face to try to hide his dismay. “I don’t want to get caught up in someone’s neurosis.”

“You’ll have to deal with history and baggage no matter who you end up with. It’s part of forming a relationship with someone. What are Cameron’s triggers?”

“His stepdad used to lock him in a closet in total darkness — not even any light around the doorframe. He’s fine in a cage with a nightlight, but he can’t be put somewhere there isn’t light, and can’t be blindfolded.” Which had made putting Cassie in a makeshift blindfold last night a bit of a treat, but he didn’t tell Sam that part.

“Have you ever taken on someone to train who didn’t have at least one thing you had to sidestep and work around?” Sam asked.

He thought a few moments, opened his mouth to say yes when he finally landed on someone without issues, but then remembered the submissive’s major meltdown when faced with a lit candle during wax play because of an unfortunate incident with a campfire when the boy was six.

Someone else sprang to mind, but he remembered how hard the two of them had worked before the boy could bear to clean cobwebs with a broom, his fear of spiders had been so bad.

And then there was the slave who learned beautifully, but Frisco eventually figured out the pet was looking for an Owner to keep him so he’d never need to get a real job.

“No,” Frisco admitted.

Chapter Eight

Frisco went home and climbed into bed.

Cam was at school, and was scheduled to work in the restaurant this afternoon before coming home.

Frisco texted Cam he was home and going to sleep, and not to disturb him unless there was an emergency. He set his phone so only today’s manager at the restaurant and Cam’s calls and texts would come through, and crashed.

He awoke feeling as if he’d been drugged. He sat up, looked around, and noted a bottle of water on his nightstand. He smiled, knowing Cam had put it there for him, and drank half of it in one long swig.

The clock said it was nearly five in the morning, and he stood to go to the bathroom. Some movement caught his eye and he turned his head to see Cam curled up on his floor cushion.

The boy was supposed to sleep in his own room unless he was invited to sleep in here, but Frisco wouldn’t be too hard on him. Or rather, he’d listen to his reason for staying. It was likely out of concern, as he wouldn’t know if Frisco was sick or feeling bad, and would want to be near in case he was needed.

Frisco used the bathroom and then opened his tablet to check Cam’s schedule. A quick glance told him the young man had a test at ten o’clock, but nothing before. Frisco would let him sleep a while longer.

He logged in to the University with Cam’s credentials and looked at his grades. He’d made a ninety-seven on the huge project he’d been so worried about, and Frisco smiled. Everything else looked good, too, and Frisco logged off.

Part of their contract said Cam’s education came first, and as such, Frisco would have access to his grades and assignments, and would be kept up to date on his schedule. Cam had a tendency to do enough to make a high B or low A, though he was capable of making high A’s if he put in a little more effort. Frisco insisted he put in the extra effort.

Frisco’s house was large but didn’t have many rooms. He closed the bedroom door as he headed to the kitchen, because while he’d be a good distance from the bedroom, there were no other doors.

He cooked when he was troubled, and he started pulling things from the refrigerator and composing a huge breakfast in his head.

He started with the bacon, and put it in a warmer when it was ready.

The bacon grease went into some flour to make biscuit dough, and when the biscuits went into the oven he pulled onions, chives, mushrooms, cheese, and spinach from the refrigerator.

He hadn’t worked too fast, so it was nearly six by the time he was ready to start the omelets. Cam’s alarm had been set for six, and he didn’t want to make them too early.

He’d saved some bacon grease, and now he browned some flour in preparation for gravy.

Cam’s alarm sounded as the gravy was ready. Frisco checked the biscuits, smiled at their golden brown goodness, pulled them from the oven, and dumped them in a bowl.

“What’s wrong?” Cam asked as he stumbled to the kitchen wearing only his chastity device, with the cock trapped inside bulging out between the steel prison where it could. “I went to bed early so I could get up with you if you needed something. I was worried you were sick, but you’re cooking. What’s wrong?”

Because Cam worked at the restaurant and was occasionally around when Frisco’s sisters showed up at the house, he was only to call Frisco
Master
or
Sir
in the bedroom, playroom, or while in the midst of a scene.

Just because the boy knew Frisco cooked when something was wrong didn’t mean he had to tell his slave what was bothering him.

“Do you want the usual in your omelet, slave?”

Frisco could call Cam whatever the hell he wanted, whenever the hell he wanted. Well, as long as the boy didn’t have friends over. Which he didn’t very often, but occasionally hosted study groups in his apartment.

“I do, and I wish I could call you Master right now. You seem to need to hear it.”

Frisco shook his head and went back to chopping and dicing. “You may use the restroom.”

Cam wasn’t allowed to go without permission when Frisco was home, and while he hadn’t asked, Frisco knew the boy would need to go and likely hadn’t asked because he was worried and wanted to make sure his Master was okay.

Cam thanked him, went to the bathroom, returned with his cock not quite as painful looking through the jailbird, and washed his hands.

Without being told, the boy poured the gravy into a serving bowl and put it, along with the biscuits and bacon, on the table. He poured drinks and asked, “Will I be eating at the table, Frisco?”