Page 4 of Bondage Play

Ellery raised his eyebrows. “Then you are one lucky motherfucker. He reallycould’vetold you to fuck off.”

Phil rubbed at his forehead again. The pain there had managed to go from piercing to a dull ache that made him want to go curl up in a dark closet. “This is true. However, I hope he doesn’t mind that I don’t have an income coming in anymore with no prospect for one anytime soon.”

“Don’t worry. Something’ll come up. You know how this town is. You’ve got a great resume, plus there’s the recent success of the series.”

As long as the next job doesn’t take me out of town again.

Chapter Two

Terry peered into the trunk of his dark-blue Audi as he rummaged through the various nylon bags and cases, coffee travel mugs that he kept forgetting to bring inside the house, and the random sweaters or other lost articles of clothing that had somehow never made it back inside the house either.Sure hope Phil never sees this.

His Master would likely make him kneel in the corner for an entire day if he saw the nightmare that was his trunk. Spanking was off the table. He was so turned on by the spankings that they’d been quickly removed from the punishments list. They were still working on that aspect as well as pretty much everything else. Since Terry was Phil’s first real sub, anyone he’d dommed in Toronto had been for play, not a full-time D/s situation. Domestic discipline was even more outside of Phil’s realm, but that was part of what they’d begun discussing.Along with everything else.

It was a work in progress.

Terry snatched up a lens case, praying it was the one he was searching for. He unzipped the cylindrical shaped top thenpeered inside.Nope.He straightened, sighing as he rubbed the muscles in his lower back. All that bending over had gotten to him. Terry snorted out loud.That’s for sure.However, bending over to search for something he needed to do his job properly in a mess he’d created wasn’t quite the same as bending over for Phil.

He considered the jumbled contents of his trunk. Was he being dishonest by hiding it? It wasn’t really any of Phil’s business what he did with his own things, it had nothing to do with him personally. It wasn’t as if Terry’s things were cluttering their house or were in Phil’s car.

Then why does my stomach feel funny, like I’m doing something wrong?

Communication. Trust. Honesty. Respect. Love. Every aspect of what they were attempting to do as Master and sub came down to those principles. He could be lazy, could slough it off as no big deal, but then the D/s became a game that didn’t stand for anything. They’d go back to being the couple they were when Terry had no idea what to expect from Phil, didn’t know where he stood in his partner’s world or whether Phil was telling him the truth or not. He couldn’t insist that Phil be completely open about everything if he didn’t do the same. If they’d decided to confine their BDSM activities to the bedroom or at a club, that would be one thing. But they hadn’t. Terry had agreed to go all in.

In for a penny…

Terry mentally chastised himself for not having the lens he really wanted to use with him as he slammed the trunk closed. Yeah. He’d confess.

He gasped at the sight of Anson standing next to his car. “Jesus.” He put a hand to his chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”

As much as he couldn’t stand the mealy-mouthed worm,Anson had somehow managed to book a small supporting role on the new cable series Terry was doing the production and cast stills for. Terry tolerated his presence, and Anson seemed to have decided it was wise to stay out of Terry’s way. He couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with the asswipe of a Master he’d spotted Anson with at Gerard’s place.

Anson merely stared at him and discomfort filled Terry. He glanced around the lot. He was parked near one of the empty soundstages. He’d been so tired from the night before that he’d been a bit slow getting a move on, so he’d ended up being a little late and having to park farther away.More things to confess to Phil later.

“Uh…” Terry frowned in confusion. Anson kept staring at him with an unreadable expression.

At last, Anson spoke. “I need a favor from you.” He radiated an odd, almost terrified demeanor.

Terry rolled his eyes before he could stop himself. Anson knew damn well that Terry couldn’t stand him, and after Terry had rebuffed Anson’s advances at their last private photo session, Anson hadn’t seemed too thrilled with him either.

“I’ll pay you.” Anson took a step forward and Terry instinctively took a step back, closer to the wall of the soundstage.

“You want to hire me for another private session?”

Anson shook his head as he continued to advance on Terry. “No, nothing like that. It’d only be for the one night, I swear.”

Terry’s back hit the wall of the tan-colored, blasé building. It was enormous and identical to every other one at the studio. Only the huge, six-foot tall numbers painted in black on the side of each one indicated which was which.

“Night? What doesthatmean?” Terry’s words came out a bit breathless.

“Master Joe wants you.”

Terry barked out a laugh, his trepidation over Anson’sbizarre behavior momentarily forgotten at the ridiculousness of Anson’s request. “Not in this or any other lifetime.”

Anson was near enough that Terry could detect the smell of his sweat mixed in with some unknown brand of overpoweringly sweet men’s cologne. Nausea threatened.

“Please. He’ll hurt me if you don’t. I’m getting ten grand an episode. You can have half, even before my agent and manager get their cuts.”

Terry’s stomach clenched as he observed moisture trailing down the side of Anson’s face, his eyes wide with the look of a frightened animal.