Chapter 50

Past
"Damn it, Zachery, stop flexing. You continue to tighten your muscles and the rope loosens when you relax. The binding can cause just as much damage when it is too loose as it can when it is too tight. Do you need me to explain it again from the beginning?"
"Fuck you, get me out of this," I hissed.
"Hold on. Sara, I am unbinding you first. Sorry, my love, but as you can see I have an unwilling hostage."
I gritted my teeth while the rope slid from Sara's body. I understood the mechanics, but I was having trouble and I wasn't quite sure how to deal with it.
Monroe helped Sara sit up and took a minute to give her a kiss and rub the marks on her skin, making sure her blood was flowing with the least amount of pain.
He stood her up on the floor. "I want everyone out. Zach and I need to discuss a few things."
Monroe didn't sound happy and that was too fucking bad. My position kept me from seeing everyone hustle out of the room, but I heard their feet beat a hasty retreat. A hand tightened in my hair and lifted my head. I stared into the piercing eyes of Nathanial Monroe: specialized killer, artist, and sexual deviant extraordinaire.
"I am fully aware of your problem, Zach." He continued before I could respond. "What is your safe word?"
"I don't have a fucking safe word. I'm not a sub." I was growing angrier and knew this wouldn't end well.
"You think you need to be a sub to have a safe word?" Monroe snapped and then his laugh zinged along my skin and I clenched my teeth.
"Untie me!" I was done playing these damn games.
"Your safe word is red."
"What the fuck is this all about?" I demanded.
"I will let your filthy language go for now because we have other work to do." Monroe walked away and then opened a cabinet before walking back to my side.
Instead of facing me, he moved behind me. For a moment, nothing happened, confusing me. Then, a warm, oily palm touched my bare back. My entire body jumped. "You were raised by liberal, worldly parents, but you joined the Marines and fell for all the 'Gays do not belong in the military' propaganda. I do not think of myself as gay, but I told you I love the human body, both male and female. You are tightening your muscles because I am touching you and you believe the touch of a man should not feel good."
Monroe began kneading the muscles of my back.
"If you were a professional athlete, a man would be working out the kinks in your muscles and doing exactly what I am doing. You would not have a problem with it and would just enjoy the sensation. But you are not a professional athlete and I am not a masseuse, so we have a problem. The women who model for me place their power in my hands. They submit fully to my will. That was not our deal and I did not think I needed your submission."
"I won't submit to you," I said with all the petulance of a child.
"No, but you need to trust me. If we were in a life and death situation, would you trust me to have your back?"
My breathing had picked up as the incredible assault on my muscles continued. I was listening to Monroe, though. "Yes," I answered in a more even tone.
"I am asking you to trust me here, right now. You have a safe word. I will not go farther than you allow. For this to work, you cannot be timid about my touch."
His hands began moving over my body, and I couldn't help my indrawn breath when his hands touched my thighs.
"While working, I am completely in the scene. In battle, we train to alleviate tunnel vision. I have become quite good at looking around me when in danger, but with Shibari, the rope, the model, and the binding become a tunnel for me. I do not fight my erection. I never hide it."
His hands journeyed down my legs and he began massaging the tops of my feet after adding oil.
"My cock may occasionally rub against you. I do not expect you to particularly enjoy it, but it is an extension of my body while I work. I can overlook your hard-on in the same manner. If there ever comes a time you would be interested in experiencing a woman with me, it will probably make it easier for you to ignore this simple fact of life. I am continually judging a sub's condition and limits. You are not a sub and I do not know yours. From what I saw when you were facing death, you may not have the usual limits."
His warm hands traveled back up my legs and stopped at the black silk underwear I was wearing. "You need to trust that I will always stop, Zach." His fingers slid under the elastic of the leg of my underwear and grazed against the tight sack of my balls.
"Red," I said with relief. He instantly removed his hand and I breathed easier.
"See? Red and it stops. I will put you into some tight bindings for my art, mostly securing you to the subs. I will touch you." The loops of restraining ropes loosened. "I will ask you to be completely nude when you are ready, but I will never betray your trust. This will not work if you cringe when my fingers graze your body. Get over it." The last part was said firmly, and something in my gut responded.
For once I didn't think Monroe understood. It wasn't that I didn't like his touch. It was that that I liked it too much and that pissed me off. When the ropes were completely off, I sat up and avoided meeting Monroe's eyes. "How did you know that was bothering me?"
He shook his head and the feeling in my gut intensified because when I met his eyes, the lie was between us. He knew. "I knew we would have a problem before I ever requested you model for me. Ask Sara about dominance and submission tonight. Let her guide you. I want you attending the models when my creations are complete. There is nothing sexier than a woman after a scene and she is still in that blissful headspace of submission. I am talking about when the scene is over and the sex is over. We call it aftercare. I want you holding them lovingly, praising, and petting them in a safe place so they come out of subspace slowly and gently. When possible, I will always release your bindings first, and I want you to unbind the subs. You will need to touch her body, praise her beauty, and give of yourself. This is a work in progress for me. It is something I have dreamed about, but all the rough edges are not yet polished. That is the beauty of art. It changes constantly."
***

Current day
My mind drifts while Monroe works out the stiff muscles around my knee. His touch hasn't caused a problem since that day so long ago. For months after I left Monroe the first time, I actually missed our interaction-his guidance and the kinky world in which he surrounds himself.
As the years and our relationship continued, I finally admitted to myself that I love Nathanial Monroe. I don't act on it, though. Our connection is a deep complexity of two men caught in a web of society's expectations. Or at least it is for me. Monroe is even more complex than that. His willingness to teach an arrogant young Jarhead about dominance still amazes me. He's an intricate part of my life.
Accepting my feelings was hard. Knowing how to define them is much harder.
I groan when the ice pack lands on my knee and I open my eyes to see Monroe wiping his hands on a towel. "I am not your doctor, nor your physical therapist, so do not expect me to put up with your shit when it comes to that leg."
"You actually said 'shit.'" I laugh. "In all the years I've known you, it's only the second time I've heard you swear."
Monroe ignores my observation and his face remains guarded. Hell, about the only time he relaxes is when he's working and even then his intensity is off the charts. "You will sign a medical waiver tomorrow, and I will get your medical records. Stephens will begin physical therapy with you also."
"Is there anything Stephens can't do?" I chuckle. My knee feels better and my brain is going a bit fuzzy from the pain pill.
"Not that I have discovered. That is why I pay him so well."
"So tell me about Angel." I throw this out of left field because of curiosity.
Monroe hesitates before he speaks. "Angel is part of the reason I need you here. You will meet her tomorrow night at the club. She is an amazing Shibari model. She is also my slave."
Silence hangs in the air.
I'm well aware of Monroe's side adventures. Hell, he provided needed information about illegal slave operations in the United States on more than one occasion. He also knows my feelings on the subject. "A slave? Why?" I hold my temper because this is unlike Monroe.
"It is more complicated than I am prepared to go into right now, but I need you to stay with her for a few weeks while I leave the country. She is quite unique and comes from an exceptional set of circumstances." He raises his hand when I start to object. "Please withhold your answer until you meet her."
I owe him this, but it doesn't make the hair on the back of my neck lay down. "Is there a reason I'm not meeting her tonight?"
Monroe's eyes burn into mine. "Yes, though you will not like my answer." He continues with a slight shake of his head. "She is being punished."
My jaw tightens. I've been in the lifestyle for many years, but when it comes down to it, I play around the edges. Hardcore sadism and masochism is not my thing. I enjoy administering a little pain along with pleasure, and I love the eroticism of bondage. But I know Monroe goes for some of the extremes. I just never thought a 24/7 power exchange was Monroe's style any more than it's mine.
I continue holding his gaze. "At some point in our relationship, the Wookie debt will be paid in full."
Monroe smiles, causing the stern muscles in his face to soften. "No, Zach, it is a debt for as long as both of us live. The rules are defined on the internet and I refuse to argue with the Force."