Page 8 of Bondage Play

Phil drew his eyebrows together. “I don’t like this at all. Something’s not right. You told me he was there the night of our scene, and after harassing you, Master Joe, Anson and their friends were all thrown out?”

“And Master Joe was pretty pissed off. He threatened Marty, the greeter. Said he’d regret it. Martytold me that Gerard’s uncle is friends with Master Joe, and that’s the only reason he was there in the first place.”

Phil grunted. “I see. I was beginning to question Gerard’s judgment. But I think we should discuss this with Gerard, make him aware of the situation. Even if Anson is a worm, he doesn’t deserve to be abused. Who knows what this Joe guy is doing to him, or others for that matter.” Another thing occurred to him. “Did you tell anyone, report what happened?”

Terry’s expression radiated discomfort as he squirmed on the couch. “I’d really rather not. I’m sure he won’t try anything again. He was obviously afraid he’d get caught, so I’m betting he’ll stay out of my way from now on.”

Phil considered it, the entire episode aggravating the hell out of him. “Well, I don’t know this Anson character at all, but if he so much as looks at you funny, I want you to tell me immediately, got it? He doesn’t get to keep harassing you.”

Terry let out an obvious sigh of relief. “Man, I should’ve just told you all this right away. You are so right about the whole giving you my worries thing. I was freaking out over what I should do.”

Phil arched his eyebrows. “You know that’s an admission that could lead to a punishment, right?”

Terry offered him a lopsided grin. “That’s okay. I think I could use some reminding.”

“Do you, now?” Phil smirked. He wanted to wrap Terry in an embrace, but he needed to tend to his elbow first.

Phil rose, offering Terry his hand. “Come on. Let’s take care of that scrape.”

Terry twined their fingers together, his firm grasp speaking to his need to be held onto. “Just no more kneeling right now, okay? I kinda bumped my left knee when he pushed me down.”

Phil bit down a growl. “Terry. You’re not helping your case here. You insisted it was only your elbow!”

“I know, I know. But I’m confessing all right now.” Terry came to an abrupt halt. “About my injuries, that is.” He wouldn’t meet Phil’s eyes.

“Baby? Why don’t we get you to the bathroom where I’ll help you wash and dress this elbow, then you can tell me about all the other punishable offenses you’ve committed while I rub some arnica cream into your arms and knee, hmm?”

Terry laughed shakily. “Sure. Can’t wait.”

“Sarcasm is on the naughty list too.”

Terry didn’t respond, and Phil was sure it was because it would’ve only added to the rapidly growing list of goofs Terry had made that day. Phil let out a mournful sigh.

I should do some confessing of my own.

As much as he didn’t want to upset Terry with the news about the film falling through, he had just as much of a responsibility to communicate with Terry as the other way around. Phil wouldn’t make the same mistake he had three years before.

Chapter Three

Phil had tended to Terry’s injuries, the complete attention focused on him worth any punishment Phil might want to dole out. However, Phil still hadn’t said green, or called scene, which was driving Terry crazy. On top of that, Phil had insisted that he be the one to prepare dinner so Terry wouldn’t be on his feet cooking. He loved being pampered by his Dom, but Phil acting as if he was hiding something? Not so much.

“Leave that.”

Phil rose from the small, mid-century kitchenette set in the eating area of the kitchen right as Terry had been about to clear the table. He gathered up both their plates which had held the pasta primavera with olive oil and garlic that Phil had prepared, and which was much tastier than anything Terry could’ve come up with. He made a mental note to ask Phil for some pointers. He was getting better at the whole cooking thing, but he’d rather eat stuff as good as what Phil was capable of making.

“I don’t have any dessert, but there’s some late-season melon, if you’d like.”

What I’d like is to know what the hell is going on.

“No thanks, I’m stuffed. That was amazing, though. You need to show me some of your tricks of the trade.”

Phil glanced over his shoulder from where he was rinsing the dishes and offered him a smile. “You’ve been doing great. It takes practice until it becomes more second nature.” Phil shut off the faucets then grabbed the small kitchen towel to dry his hands. “How about some decaf or tea, though? We could take it into the living room, relax and talk.”

Terry’s stomach clenched. “Iknewit. Something’s wrong.”

Phil rushed to him then leaned down, cupping his chin to encourage him to look up. “No. I don’t want you to think that. This is about some updates in the status of my career, and in keeping to our commitment of communicating, I simply want to discuss them with you.”

“Oh.” Terry frowned. “But, you’re the Master, so…?”