Page 92 of Release

“And there’s no downtime this weekend. No neutral, no ‘just George’ mode. You’re boy until you’re told otherwise on Sunday evening. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Declan returns with the leather collar and cuffs he usually wears, and I set my glass aside so I can take them from him.

I stand directly in front of George. In these heels, I’m still not eye-to-eye with George’s six-two frame, but I know I have the psychological advantage over him because I’m fully dressed and he’s naked.

“You’ve seen how a boy gives his Ma’am a proper greeting. Do it.”

George lowers himself to the floor in front of me, on his knees. He misjudged the distance, though, and has to scoot back a little so he can do the full bow. He even remembers to cup the back of my heels in his hands as he kisses the top of my feet.

When he starts to rise before I’ve released him, I fist his hair and shove him back down. He’s not going to get the gentle, loving version of how I trained Declan, or Ellen, or even others, like Benjamin.

He’s going to get the bitch.

“No,” I say. “You weren’t given permission to break that position yet. Youstaythere until you’re released.”

“Sorry, Ma’am,” he says.

Declan stands on the other side of the kitchen, his left arm crossed over his chest and his right holding his drink. I can tell he’s not comfortable with this, but Ineedit.

“I’ve decided on a different training method for you, boy,” I say. “We only have a weekend, so I’m cramming as much into it—and you—as I can fit. We don’t have time for gentle and lovey-dovey.”

I release his hair and straighten so I can stare at his rounded back.

This is…weird.

Disorienting.

I also find myself glancing over at Declan, trying to gauge his reaction.

“Sit up,” I tell George.

He does.

I buckle the collar around his neck. “Declan has graciously agreed to let me use these on you this weekend. What do you tell him?”

He looks at Declan. “Thank you, Sir.”

Declan slowly nods. “You’re welcome, boy.” The dark look still shadows his face, though.

“Hands,” I tell George.

He holds them up and I buckle the wrist cuffs around them.

“Now hands behind you. Sit back on your heels.”

He complies.

“No safeword this weekend,” I tell him. “If something’s the bad kind of pain, tell us. If something’s cramping, tell us. If something’s itching, or you think you’re going to puke, or you need to use the bathroom, tell us. But Declan doesn’t use a safeword with me, and I damn well know he doesn’t use the one you gave him. These are the rules you’ve been playing by since January. Correct?”

“Correct, Ma’am,” George says.

“All right. Stand up.”

He does, steadily meeting my gaze. I’ll give him credit, he’s thrown himself into this role wholeheartedly.

Then again, I’m not spanking him yet.