Rachel Haimowitz & Cat Grant - [Power Play 1] (11 page)

how it was meant to be used. He stood up, took a step back, studied

it with a builder’s eye.
Ah, like so
. Kind of like a kneeling bench at

church, except . . . He put his knees on the pad, slotted his ankles into

the straps but didn’t fasten them closed. Leaned long-ways over the

bench. It held his weight, surprisingly comfortable. He realized there

was a strap for his neck when he planted his elbows on the pads near

the ground. Handles for him to grab, too. Some morbid curiosity

propelled him to buckle the left cuff around his wrist. He pulled it

tight, leather soft and snug and very, very
secure, and holy shit was he

actually getting
hard
from this?

No.
Fuck
no. Must’ve just reminded him of sex last week with

Jonathan. Which, he had to admit, had been pretty fucking amazing,

even if the guy had
handcuffed him to the bed.

If, or
because
?

“Shut up, Bran. Just . . . shut up.” He unbuckled his wrist from

the cuff, stood up. Fuck, he really was
hard. He turned his eyes back

to the belt-like leather straps hanging on the far wal , stared at them

until his erection faded.

“Three million dol ars,” he mumbled, then shook his head. “Three

million
dol ars.” For six months of his life. Down here. In
this.

“Can’t be
that
bad, can it?” He’d been beaten plenty and survived.

And Jonathan had sworn he’d never harm him. Strange, but he

believed the guy. Which was more than he could say for his father.

And if he’d lived through
that
, surely he could live through this. And

he’d have a lot more to show for it when it ended than a rented couch

in the ass end of Chinatown and no prospects for his future.

Bran took a deep breath, another, dragged his hands through his

hair and then shook them out. “Come on, Bran. Suck it up. You can

do this.”

Jonathan’s stomach clenched as Brandon’s footsteps echoed on

the stairs. He’d been down there alone for at least twenty minutes,

and the wait had been so nerve-wracking that Jonathan had brewed

some tea and forced himself to sit on the couch lest he wander back

downstairs.

Brandon came over and sat in the recliner across from him, hands

gripping his knees, jaw clenched. “I need a drink.”

Jonathan’s eyes went instantly to the red marks on Brandon’s left

forearm; he’d clearly hit himself with something much nastier than

the suede flogger. Had he liked it?

“Not tonight,” Jonathan said. “This is not a conversation to be had

under the influence. I’d be happy to pour you some tea, though.”

“No thanks. So . . .” Brandon sucked in a deep breath. “How do

we do this?”

“I take it that’s a yes, then?”

Brandon grimaced. “For right now, it’s a maybe. We need to get a

few things straightened out first. Like, how do I know you’ll hold up

your end of the bargain if I let you do this to me?”

Jonathan resisted the urge to argue he’d be doing it
with
Brandon,

not
to
him. Now wasn’t the time for that, and Brandon would learn

soon enough anyway if Jonathan managed this discussion properly.

“Well, it’s perhaps a bit crass to think of it this way, but it
is
a legal

agreement. We’ll have a contract.”

“Sounds like you’ve done this before.”

Jonathan nodded. “Once or twice, perhaps.”

“And what happened to
those
guys?”

“Their contracts ended and they went on their way. Quite pleased

for the experience, I assure you.”

“Can I talk to them?”

“I’m afraid not. It would be a violation of their privacy.”

Brandon’s brow furrowed. “So that
is
where you bury the bodies,

then.”

But it was said without heat; Jonathan chuckled. “Look, I’m no

stranger to the local scene. I’d be happy to give you some references

if you’d like.”

Brandon said nothing. If Jonathan were in his shoes, he’d assume

any references had been bought.

“So this contract . . .”

“Yes?”

“I’d have to live here, right?” Jonathan nodded. “What would

happen to my apartment? It’s rent-stabilized; I can’t afford to lose

it.” “I’d pay it off for a year when you signed the contract, and

deposit thirty thousand dol ars into your bank account then too.” At

Brandon’s suspicious glare, he added, “Well, you’d have to quit your

job, after al , and it’s important you not feel trapped here. As with

my prior arrangements, you could leave at any time. And you’d have

a financial net to fall back on if you decided to go before the contract

played out.”

“Thirty grand,” Brandon said, toneless in his incredulity. “Just for

signing the contract?”

Jonathan nodded. “Just for signing the contract.”

“And if I left in a day?”

“I’d be sad to see you go, but the money’s yours to keep. Of course,

if you want the three million, you’ll need to stay until the end. The

full hundred-and-eighty days.”

“And what exactly would I be doing here for a hundred-and-

eighty days? You gonna keep me locked up in the torture chamber?”

“Dungeon,” Jonathan corrected with a tiny smile. “And no, we

wouldn’t spend all our time down there. Just the more fun times.”

“Fun for
you
, maybe.”

“And for you, once you learn how wonderful it can be to let go.

Once you let your submissive side out of that little prison in which

you’ve been keeping it locked all these years.”

Brandon scoffed. “And I’d do that by letting you keep
me
locked

in a little prison? I saw all those cages down there.”

“Look.” Jonathan scrubbed a hand across his mouth, rested his

chin on his hand. “I’m not going to pretend this will all be flowers and

orgasms. Will there be great sex? Yes. I’d even go so far as to say mind-

blowing. For a submissive who’s never let himself
be
submissive, it

can be absolutely transcendent when he does.”
Like our sex last week
,

he didn’t have to say; he could see the thought stamped clear across

Brandon’s face—right alongside the urge to argue,
I’m not a fucking

submissive
. “
But
, breaking down all those barriers you’ve spent your

whole life building can be a . . .
difficult
process. It won’t always be

easy, or fun, or even pleasant.”

“Hence the whips and cages?” Brandon said, but it wasn’t a

question, not really.

“Hence the whips and cages, yes. But even
that
can be beautiful.

Learning to trust someone like that, so deeply, so completely. Learning

to move past your strongest barriers, face your deepest fears . . .”

He shook his head, grasping for words to describe something so far

beyond
mere words. “It would change your life, Brandon. And not

just because of the money waiting for you at the end.”

“So what do you get out of it?”

“Simply put, I’m a Dominant and a sadist. Which means I enjoy

taking absolute control, and yes, I enjoy inflicting pain. But it’s not

like I go around pul ing wings off of flies.”

“No, you just go around offering men money so they’ll let you

beat them. Sounds like a pretty expensive hobby.”

“I’ve actually never paid anyone before—well, excepting living

expenses they couldn’t meet while serving me ful -time. My prior

arrangements were all with submissives quite eager to be Dommed

by the best. And you must understand, the money . . . I’m not
buying

you. I’m
not.
I just, I see this gift inside of you and I want so very

much to bring it out. Don’t tell me you’d have considered it without

a compelling enough reason.”

Brandon shrugged. “Whatever you gotta tell yourself to sleep at

night, pal.”

Jonathan grinned. “And what about you? What do
you
tell

yourself
to sleep at night?”

“I’m not a whore,” Brandon growled.

“I wouldn’t want you if you were.”

Brandon sat in silence for a few moments, staring down at his

hands. “So do I get any say in what happens to me here?”

“Yes and no. Of course we’ll agree on a safeword, and on lines we

won’t cross. But otherwise, this is— Have you heard the term ‘total

power exchange’?” Brandon shook his head. “Basically, it means that,

within the framework of the boundaries we set, you obey me in all

things, 24/7, regardless of what I ask of you.”

Brandon’s head snapped up. “What, you mean I’d be your

slave?”

“I suppose you could put it that way. Although I prefer ‘submissive’

to ‘slave.’ It’s all part of the process of letting go, allowing me to lead

you, show you your full potential.”

“Don’t you already have servants catering to your every whim?”

“Yes,” Jonathan grinned, “but I can’t fuck my maid.”

“I’ll bet she’d say yes for three million dol ars.”

“Let me rephrase, then: I don’t
want
to fuck my maid.”

Brandon chuckled, and something unclenched in Jonathan’s

chest. If Brandon was feeling comfortable enough to
joke
. . .

But Brandon’s smile faded quickly, and he opened his mouth,

closed it, opened it again. His fingers twined and untwined in his

lap. “So these lines we won’t cross . . .”

“I told you I’d never harm you, and I won’t. Yes, I may
hurt
you—

there will be pain, or rather, heavy sensation—but never harm. Never

injury. At least nothing an ice pack or a Band-Aid can’t fi—”

“No blood,” Brandon blurted. “I don’t . . .” He dropped his gaze

from Jonathan’s eyes to his own hands, still fidgeting in his lap. “I

don’t want you to cut me.”

“All right,” Jonathan said softly. “That’s no problem.”

“And what if . . .” He trailed off, didn’t finish his sentence.

After what felt like half a minute, Jonathan prompted him with,

“If?”Brandon looked back up at him, a fierce blush coloring his cheeks.

“What if I can’t . . . I mean, what if—”

“If it’s more than you can handle?” Jonathan offered. Brandon

nodded, blush creeping right to the tips of his ears. “That’s what your

safeword is for. If I’m starting to push you too hard or it’s getting too

bad or you’re too afraid, you say ‘Yellow,’ and I’ll slow down. If I’ve

already pushed you too hard or it’s gotten too bad, you say ‘Red,’ and

I’ll stop. Right away. No questions asked.”

“Really?”

Good Lord, was he ever adorable when he’d been surprised.

Jonathan couldn’t help but smile. “Really. I may be a sadist, but I’m

not a psychopath.” Brandon’s return smile wobbled, but it was there.

“Although it’s very important you not abuse the safeword. It’s there

only for when you
need
it, not simply when you
want
it. I will know

the difference. If you use it when you
don’t
need it, I retain the right

to void the contract.”

“All right,” Brandon said, but he didn’t understand yet, not really;

he’d spoken with the blithe disregard of a man who had no idea what

he was getting into.

Jonathan sat forward, looked him dead in the eye. “Listen to me.

I mean it. This is serious, and you
will
need to safeword eventually. I

can’t stress enough how important it is that I can trust you on this—

both to use it when you’ve reached your absolute limit and to hold

your tongue when you haven’t. No macho posturing, no childish

games.”

Brandon met Jonathan’s gaze, unflinching. “All right,” he said

again, and this time his words held weight.

“Good, thank you. Now, is there anything else? If you want to set

limits, you need to set them now; once the contract’s signed, you’ll

get no say in anything anymore.”

Hmm, maybe he’d put that a bit too harshly; Brandon paled,

swallowed hard. “Um.” He scratched at his cheek again. Did the

scruff itch that much, or was it just a nervous gesture? “Condoms,”

he said. “All the time.”

Of
course
he’d pick the one thing Jonathan couldn’t give him.

“About that . . .” Brandon looked to be in the process of working up

a murderous glare, so Jonathan pressed on, even before he’d figured

out exactly how to say it. “If you’re not, er,
healthy
, then we can’t

move forward with this. Part of exploring the Dom/sub relationship

necessitates I be able to do certain things with you that can’t be done

if there’s any risk for disease. So if we agree to this, you and I will

go—
together
—to be tested at the doctor of your choosing. I’ll pay

for it, of course, and we’ll view the results together too. Does that

suit you?”

Brandon thought about it for a minute, then nodded once.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Excellent. Anything else? Any other questions?”

“Not right now.”

“Are you sure? This is your last chance. I’ll have the contract drawn

up in the morning with everything we’ve talked about tonight.”

“Yeah. I’m sure.” Another deep breath. “So when does this thing

start? I’ll need to give notice at work.”

“How does two weeks sound? We’ll go get tested tomorrow.”