I think I’m done reeling from the election results. I might have my balance back. Now, I’m rolling up my sleeves and ready to fight. I’m ready to take on those who want to see immigrants and Muslims and People of Color and LGBTQ people shuffled out of their country, into dark corners, or into some other kind of oblivion. President Trump is the dying gasp of a white patriarchy who can’t handle otherness, and while it may feel like a hurricane force wind right now, I’ve got lungs, too, and I plan to scream back. I will be like Lieutenant Dan, on the mast of a small ship riding stormy waves, screaming into the wind and the rain, “Is that all you got! Come on! Bring it!”
I will not go quietly into the closet/dark corners/oblivion like apparently half the voters in this country would like me and other marginalized groups to do. Nope. This is MY country, too and I absolutely refuse to be a doormat because these people have deemed my differences are not differences they can tolerate.
So much for America the melting pot.
I’ve been kicking around an idea for a 4th Power Exchange (this series has taught me to never say never. It keeps coming back so much I might as well make that the tagline). Ben of all people has been whispering to me, saying, “Hey, I have a story, too. Maybe I’m ready to let you tell it.” It has some legs, so I’ve tinkered out a plot and in the last couple weeks have gotten the first scene down amid a wedding, some serious personal strife that knocked me over like Hulk punching Thor, and this ugly, UGLY election. I cannot promise when Restraint will be released other than to say 2017. But it’s my foremost project, and is the one getting my attention. It may not go as fast as Consent did (4 months to write) or it may. The point is that I’m writing it and in the wake of heartbreaking, devastating news, I wanted to share with my people that maybe we still have things to look forward to. I know I still have a voice, and I plan to use it. I’m going to be getting louder. This is my way of saying I will not sit down, I will not shut up, and in fact, I will write about the love of people like me until I take my literal dying gasp. I will never quit.
So, as a promise to you all, I give you the first scene from Restraint, Power Exchange Book 4. I hope you like it and are excited Ben and Gavin have more to say. Click through to read on.
Ben and I passed our licenses to the ticketing agent at the check-in counter at Lambert-St. Louis International Airport, along with our trip confirmations.
“Flight 258 to Seattle, Washington departing at 3:25 p.m. with one stop in Minneapolis, correct?” she confirmed. “Are you checking bags?”
We went through the rigmarole of setting our suitcases on the scale and answering questions about whether or not they’d been in our possession the entire time or if they contained anything the airline should know about. I was still miffed Ben had talked me out of bringing my Glock, but he was right—this was our honeymoon. Who did I expect to be shooting?
The agent tagged our bags, passed us our fresh boarding passes and other documents, and smiled. “Here you go, Dr. and Mr. DeGrassi. Have a nice trip, and thank you for flying Delta.”
Unburdened of our rolling suitcases, we turned toward the escalator to the second level and the security checkpoint, which we’d navigate quickly thanks to our first class tickets. I had my laptop bag over my shoulder, which held both our computers, a paperback by a former FBI agent concerning body language for me to read, and crosswords for Ben. It should be a simple matter getting through security, but I was still sweating it. I hoped they didn’t have the body scanners going today, but I wasn’t holding my breath. Because it was Halloween, they were probably on heightened alert despite there being fewer travelers. Not that I had reason to expect trouble.
Unless I counted the rubber butt plug in my ass.
Ben thought he was cute, ordering me to wear one all the way to Seattle. He’d sported a slightly malevolent, though mostly amused, smile the entire ride to the airport, but especially when I squirmed. I’d shifted as little as possible while also trying to keep from popping wood, hoping the Town Car driver he’d hired wouldn’t notice. I’d begged for a cock ring to help restrict blood flow, but Ben had only professed his faith in my being adult enough to control my responses.
The TSA agents were going to find it, of that I had no doubt. They’d pull me aside and question me at the very least, and I squirmed at courting such attention. Especially if I ended up with the rubber glove treatment. It wasn’t out of the question; chances were they’d want to make sure I wasn’t a drug mule, transporting illicit substances inside the plug. I’d be forced to remove it to prove it was clear, just a shaped piece of rubber designed to fuck with my mind.
“First class security’s over here.” I pointed, reluctantly moving in that direction. My best shot of this was to act rich and entitled—an attitude I wore like a poorly fitting sport coat—in order to assure them this was just a game my wealthy husband found amusing at my expense. Humiliation wasn’t my kink and this pushed that boundary to the point where I considered safewording. I was a retired cop. Flouting authority this much was not easy for me, even if we’d discussed my desire to test my loyalty to authority against my submission to Ben.
“If I made your submission easy, it wouldn’t be the gift it’s supposed to be,” Ben had murmured when I’d hesitated to spread myself for him to work the plug into my body in our shared shower that morning. “This is asking no more of you than when you wear your corset around your family.”
“My family isn’t likely to demand a strip search,” I growled, petulant.
“Gavin,” he snapped, and I’d automatically straightened beneath the hot spray. “I give the orders. You obey them. We negotiated mindfucking and you assured me you were okay with most anything I could come up with as long as it didn’t touch your hard limits. No whips, no restraints you can’t get out of yourself, and I’m not leaving your side. This is a baby step on the road to what I have in mind.”
“What if the TSA agents separate us?” Ben wrapped his arms around me and nuzzled my neck, and his erection nudged the plug. I couldn’t deny it felt good, felt right to give him this, even if my inner cop threw a toddler tantrum for risking security’s approval of our entrance to the restricted gate area to board our plane. “What if we miss our flight and delay the beginning of our honeymoon?”
“What’s the worst that happens? They make you remove it, they confiscate it, and we go through to our gate. It’s embarrassing for a few moments but proves how devoted to me you are. Is that really so bad?”
I sighed and squeezed his hands in mine. “Of course not.”
So here we were, approaching the queue about twelve deep, not a long line by any stretch, and my heart picked up to a gallop. I can do this. I squared my shoulders, wishing I’d worn my corset as well instead of packing it in my checked bag. Something about the constricting fabric and steel rods always centered me. Good lord, everything about this trip is unusual.
Ben’s hand on my elbow, however, veered me off course and into a men’s room, where he guided me into a stall and shut the door. There was barely enough room in there for one person to turn around in, let alone two.
“What—” I began, but Ben held a finger to my lips. The man in the stall beside us cleared his throat and the explosive whir of the automatic flush was loud in the echo chamber of the restroom.
Ben twirled a finger indicating I should turn around. He undid my jeans and that was it, I was hard as a rock. Maybe he was going to jerk me off so I’d at least be relaxed going through the body scanner?
While the bathroom’s other occupant washed and dried his hands, Ben lowered my jeans and underwear beneath the swell of my ass. The clack of the man’s shoes disappeared and quiet descended.
Ben fingered the plug, wiggling it. “Comfortable?”
I swallowed. “Yes.”
“Okay, straddle the toilet and put your hands on the back wall.”
I did as I was told, and Ben worked his fingers beneath the wide base of the plug and pulled. My hole stretched pleasantly over the widest portion and then released it, spasming at the sudden emptiness. I whimpered, thrusting toward him in silent supplication, hoping he’d fill me with his fingers, or better yet, his cock. A dribble of pre-come plinked into the toilet bowl.
It took some maneuvering, and in the end, I stood awkwardly bowlegged over the bowl, forced to pull up my pants to succeed. I tried my best to stand in present position, my eyes locked on the bottom two buttons of his shirt. Was I supposed to try and keep my erection? Will it away? I wanted to ask what next, but I didn’t dare. This was his show. I was along for the ride.
“Look at me.” He kissed my cheek, his eyes merry as he held the plug. “Clean it well. You’ll find a plastic baggie folded next to the bookmark in your book. Put the plug in the baggie and stow it your bag. It doesn’t matter where, because the x-ray machine will pick it up anyway.”
I nodded, not bothering to hide my confusion. “Sir?”
“We aren’t going to involve a third person in our scene without their explicit consent, and given that I don’t have any TSA agent friends, I couldn’t set something up in advance to get us through security. So they’ll see it on the x-ray, probably search your bag, and you will explain its presence. If they don’t confiscate it, I’ll return it to your ass when we’re through to our gate.”
A breath whooshed from me. “Thank you, Sir,” I said fervently. “I’d have gone through with it, but it would have embarrassed the hell out of me.” My relief was followed by an adrenaline rush that nearly popped me off in my jeans. I’d have actually done it. It wasn’t only because he expected me to, but because my loyalty to him meant more to me than the face I presented to the world.
“I know,” he said, cupping my face and kissing me tenderly. “And that was the point.”
A few minutes later, we approached the security line again, plug secured in my bag just as he’d instructed. A bored agent droned over the murmurs of the people in line.
“Have your boarding pass and IDs out. Any electronic devices must be removed from your bags, and anything containing liquid must be in a clear, plastic bag and no larger than 3.4 ounces. Anyone with first class or business class tickets, please step to the left.”
Ben and I moved to the bored agent and were quickly shuffled to the conveyors, removing our shoes and electronics like good sheep. Ben gestured for me to go through the scanner first, and I did, dismayed when the red light inside lit up and the machine emitted a beep.
“Sir, are your pockets emptied of loose change and keys? Are you wearing a belt? Jewelry?” the agent asked.
“I put all that in the carrier,” I said, indicating the bins on the conveyor belt with a flick of my hand.
“Hold on,” Ben said to the agents, then turned to me. “Gavin, present.” He stepped forward, his keys jingling in his hand as I obeyed, confused as I backed out of the scanner. To the security agent, he said, “I forgot. My fault.” To me, he murmured, “Your collar.”
The engraved metal collar I wore around my neck loosened as he unlocked it, and I felt naked in a way I hadn’t for more than a month, since our collaring ceremony.
“Good to go,” he said with an apologetic smile.
I walked through the scanner. No beeps. The agent waved me through, and Ben followed in short order.
Ben and I set ourselves to rights, the collar secure around my neck being the first thing he did after we emptied our bins, even before we slipped into our shoes. Not an auspicious start to our trip, but there was one thing it wasn’t: boring.