Page 92 of Governor

“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—shesaysit.

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 ofthatthis 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.