Page 143 of Piece Us Together

He puts a hand on Maison’s arm without looking at him, knowing how Maison feels about the topic. Maison rests his hand over Hunter’s.

“I want the two of you to feel welcome here anytime. If we have plans and I’m at work, I want you here when I come home if it works with your schedules. I will always make it clear what time I’ll be here. If you’re here first, you can make yourselves comfortable. Start cooking a meal, if you’d like. Watch television. Nap. Whatever. I will always make it clear when I willbe home, within a few minutes of course. I’d like you—Nolan—to be kneeling at the door for me when I come in. To be safe, I’d say start kneeling about ten minutes before I’m expected. You will set a timer though. If I am not here ten minutes past my expected time, you can get up again. I don’t ever want you just waiting, in case an emergency or something comes up and I can’t contact you.”

“That’s twenty minutes of kneeling,” Maison murmurs.

“He’s made it through movies.”

“Sitting.”

“Okay. That’s fair.” Hunter says the words softly, not condescending, but comforting. He looks at me. “Darling, how long can you kneel comfortably? Have you tested it?”

I snort a laugh. Neither of them seems amused, especially Maison. In fact, he looks close to pissed off. Which is fair, as Hunter would say. Not exactly a joking matter.

Maison makes that clear by saying, “Comfortably, Nolan. Not what you can withstand.”

Hunter does another hard exhale through his nose, his mind adding things up and not liking the conclusion. “Comfortably,” he agrees, voice hard.

“Um.” I turn away from them. I’m not hiding, I just need a minute. A minute to have my hands on ingredients and my head quiet. Because the truth? I don’t know. There was never a clock around. I could have knelt for hours. For days. No one ever told me. Sometimes the cramps would get so bad, my legs would go numb. Once, my back was so fucked up that electricity was shooting down my spine, through my legs, and a particular spasm had me pissing myself. I’d been desperate to go back to kneeling when they started punishing me for that.

“I don’t know,” I admit to the rosemary sprig between my fingers.

“Then we’ll learn. Together. Once we know, we’ll set that rule. For now, let’s just have you kneel whenever you arrive. Let yourselves in, you don’t have to knock anymore. I’ll always have a cushion beside the door. You’ll take your jacket and shoes off and kneel on it until I come and tell you to do something else.”

“What about me?” Maison asks.

Hunter grins. “You come find me. Let me know the two of you are here, if I’m elsewhere. And I want a kiss hello.”

I glance over my shoulder, biting back a smile when I catch the pink in Maison’s cheeks. “Yeah. Okay. Yeah, that’s—that’s good.”

I turn back to the meal before he can see my shit-ass grin.

“Any other times I want you to kneel, I’ll let you know. With that said, you can always bring your cushion to me if you would like to kneel without an order to. If there’s a reason I don’t want it at the time, I’ll explain that. Usually, I’ll be more than happy to have you at my feet, though.”

“Really?”

He chuckles. “Really, darling. In fact, there’s nothing you can’t ask for. There are just no guarantees you’ll get a yes. Especially your orgasms, if you’re ready to move on to that topic.”

“Oh, I’m ready for that topic,” Maison teases. “Do I get a say in that topic?”

“Hush.” I swallow a laugh at the indignant sound Maison makes at being hushed. “Nolan, I don’t want you to come without my permission. Ever. Is that a rule you’ll agree to?”

I squirm. I don’t mean to, really, it’s just—fuck. That’s a rule I’ve missed. I don’t know why. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to analyze or therapize or whatever. It’s a rule I fucking miss. And I wanted it back. And now I have it.

“Please,” I say, my stupid voice giving out a little. “Yes. Sir.”

“Can I still fuck him whenever I want?” Maison asks.

“Yes. Just don’t let him come. If he does anyway, you’ll both tell me. If I think you made him—not listening when he warned you, or something similar—you’ll both be punished.”

“You can’t hit me,” Maison says immediately.

My hand is a little shaky as I sprinkle cranberries into the slow cooker.

“Okay. That’s okay. I’ll be having you fill out another packet, now that things have changed again. Now that I can touch you. Kiss you. I want you to fill a packet out with what you’ll let me do to you. You know I’ll respect whatever limits you set.”

“How would you punish me if you can’t hit me?”

“Oh, kitten, there are a lot of ways I can punish you.”

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