Page 41 of Daddy Marc's Gem

Foster poked out his bottom lip, his frown deepening as if wrestling with a major quandary. “Dammit.”

“Language.”

“I apologize, Daddy.” He sighed. “Yellow.”

“Do you need me to answer both questions, or is there something else?”

“Well…I don’t really need to know what’s in the bag, but I’ll confess that the knife is bothering me.” He gazed up at Marc, his forehead wrinkled. “I still trust you, I swear.”

“I believe you.” Marc placed his hand on Foster’s shoulder in reassurance, keeping the touch gentle. “But it’s all right if you have questions.” Marc paused to consider the situation. “Let me help you out since the knife seems to be the main issue. It’s a paring knife, meant to cut a food item. It’s not for you. I would never break a hard limit with you. You’ve said no to knife play, and I will honor that no matter what.”

Foster folded his hands and rested his cheek against them. “But see? That makes it sound like I don’t trust you. I feel bad.”

“Oh, sweetheart. That’s the last thing I want.” Marc caressed Foster’s back with soft strokes. “You know, there are layers to trust. For instance, just now you trusted that I’d stop if you used a safeword. You also trusted that I wouldn’t judge you for using it, and I don’t.”

“Hmm.” Foster bit his bottom lip. “Fair point. Is it still okay to ask what the knife’s for?”

Marc smiled. From the start, they’d always had such an easy time communicating, even when Foster was unsure about things.

“It’s absolutely okay. And at this point, I think it’s best I explain everything in advance.” Marc unrolled the top of the paper bag. “The only hope you’ll have of enjoying this is if you know what’s happening.” Marc held up a finger as Foster opened his mouth to speak. “And that’s okay, too. Nothing for you to feel bad about.”

Foster nodded against his folded hands, chewing on the end of his thumb as he watched the paper bag as if it were a bomb about to explode. If the situation was different, he’d reprimand Foster for thumb nibbling, but he had bigger fish to fry.

Marc held in a snort. The saying was sort of appropriate when he considered the contents of the bag.

“Here you go.” Marc held up the fresh, uncut piece of ginger root. “Have you ever heard of figging?”

Foster propped himself up on his elbows like he’d been zapped with a cattle prod. “No, and what the hell?”

Marc pressed his lips together. “You’re very colorful in the language department tonight.”

In truth, Foster didn’t have much of a potty mouth, so his minor infractions came across as more egregious than they actually were.

“I apologize again.” He shook his head. “But I’m completely lost as to why you brought a piece of raw ginger into the bedroom.”

“Well…” Marc was beginning to feel a bit mischievous. “You love ass play, and the oils from raw ginger are extra zesty.”

“Right, but what does…” Foster’s eyes rounded. “Holy—“ He coughed into his fist. “Cannoli.”

Marc barked out a laugh. “Good save. But now you know what the knife is for.”

Foster tucked some hair behind his ear. “Why not just peel it in the kitchen? Wouldn’t that be easier?”

“The fresher the cut, the less potent the juice. But if you decide you want to try it again, we can up the intensity.” Marc waggled his eyebrows. “If I peel it a couple of days ahead of time, I can keep it in a plastic bag in the fridge and let it marinate in its own juices.”

“I see…” Foster stared at the ginger as if he was mind-melding with it. At last, he gave a sharp nod. “Okay. I’m in.”

Marc’s jaw went slack. He hadn’t expected such an enthusiastic response. “If you’re ready to keep going, you know what to say.”

Foster smiled, resting his cheek back on his hands. “Green. Can I watch you pare it?”

“Of course.” Marc held up the large root again. “This is a nice one because of the large knob at the bottom of this finger. Serves the same purpose as the base of the butt plug.”

“Good to know.” His lips peeled back in a grimace. “That would be an embarrassing ER visit.”

Marc grunted. “For us both.”

He wasn’t ashamed of his lifestyle, but the judgment within the vanilla community could be brutal at times. Sadly, his practice was based on the awful truth that his clients faced so much criticism and backlash because of how they lived their truth.

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