Author: Tiffany Reisz

“Yes. Very real. And it’ll feel very real when it stops being fun. The first time Griffin puts his foot down about something you don’t like…the whole collared thing really sinks in. But it’s worth it. You find the right dom, and it’s completely worth it. Just enjoy the honeymoon period while it lasts.”

Michael looked at Nora as she capped her eyeliner pencil and put it away. She looked so weird tonight wearing all white. White skirt, white blouse, white collar around her neck. He was in all white too—white pants, no shoes, white button-down shirt untucked with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

“He’s taking me to Key West for a week tomorrow. Speaking of honeymoons.”

Nora adjusted her collar.

“Good choice for same-sex couples. Have you two figured out the school/living situation in all this excitement?”

“Yeah. He’s getting a new place that’ll be easy to get to by the train. I’ll just be in the dorms during the week and be his on the weekends.”

“You going to tell everybody at school that you’re the bisexual collared submissive of the richest trust fund baby in New York?”

“Maybe not this semester.”

Nora grinned.

“Good call. Your mom handling everything okay?”

“Yeah. Better than I thought.”

“Mothers can surprise you sometimes.”

Michael went over to his backpack and pulled a photo folder out.

“Here. I better give this back to you. Griffin might snoop.”

“Thank you,” she said, taking the photo back. She opened the burgundy folder and smiled at the picture. “God, they were sexy as hell, weren’t they?”

“Seriously,” Michael agreed as he looked over Nora’s shoulder at the black-and-white photograph. In the picture he saw an eighteen-year-old Father S sitting casually in an armchair in a dark suit, tidy and pin neat. At his feet sat another boy, only a year younger, with longer dark hair and his Catholic school uniform artfully rumpled with the jacket abandoned, the tie loose and the collar open.

“Kingsley and Søren…I think this is the only picture ever taken of them as teenagers. Looks like they were studying, working on something. Wonder if anyone else other than us kinksters get it.”

Michael had gotten it. He understood. Young Kingsley’s neck bore two bruises that anyone without any kink experience would simply assume were hickeys or love bites. But Michael knew those marks, had borne them on his own skin. Lips hadn’t made them, nor teeth. A thumb and index finger pressing into the skin had left those bruises. Kingsley had been pinned down by his neck during sex with a young Father S.

“We all have to start somewhere, right?” Nora asked, closing the folder and tucking the photograph away. “Søren and Kingsley have no shame at all that they were lovers when they were kids. Kingsley just doesn’t want anyone to know he’s a switch.”

“I won’t tell. I promise. Not even Griffin.”

“I know,” Nora said. “We better go. They’re waiting.”

Together they left Father S’s private dungeon at The 8th Circle, the club where he, Nora, Griffin and Kingsley did their hardest playing a couple of times a week.

A few doors down was Griffin’s private dungeon. Michael had already been warned he’d be spending a lot of time naked and tied up in this room. Even now as he entered it unfettered and fully clothed, he felt naked and bound. Nakedly vulnerable. Bound to Griffin.

Looking around as the entered the room, he saw Father S and Kingsley Edge talking to each other in hushed tones. Both of them wore all black apart from Father S’s white collar and a white handkerchief in Kingsley’s pocket. An incredibly beautiful woman with ebony skin wearing a jaw-dropping ivory dress sat on a black leather sofa. Kingsley snapped his fingers and the woman rose and came to his side. It must be Juliette. Nora had told him about her—Kingsley’s Haitian secretary who kept both Kingsley and all of his business interests in line outside the bedroom while Kingsley kept her in line inside. Juliette gave him a dazzling smile and Michael’s knees nearly buckled from the force of her beauty.

Nora guided Michael to the center of the room and stood next to him. Griffin entered, wearing black pants and a black silk shirt and no shoes. He took one look at Michael and made a beeline for him. Before they could meet, Nora interposed herself between them.

“Whoa, slow down, Fiske. You don’t get to kiss the sub yet. Down, boy,” Nora ordered and Griffin playfully bared his teeth at her.

“Then let’s get this over with. I need to kiss him. Now. Right now,” Griffin said, trying to step around Nora.

“Patience is a virtue, Griffin,” Father S said as they all formed a loose circle around Griffin and Michael.

“I haven’t seen him all day. That’s as much patience as you’ll get from me,” Griffin said.

“It’s a start,” Father S said. “Go ahead.”

Nora stepped to the side and Griffin pulled a black leather collar out of his pocket, clasped it around Michael’s neck, buckled it and locked it shut. Michael closed his eyes as Griffin’s arms came around him.

“I love you,” Griffin whispered as the tiny lock in the back of the collar clicked shut. “And you belong to me.”

“Yes, sir,” Michael said, smiling. He opened his eyes and Griffin kissed him deeply, passionately and without reservation.

“Gross,” Nora said. “Those two guys are kissing. That’s disgusting.”

“It’s quite unnatural,” Kingsley agreed. “I shudder at the very thought.”

“Is that so?” Juliette asked in her rich, melodic Haitian accent. “Then what were you doing with that young man last night?”

“Business meeting. We were discussing the ledgers at the Möbius.”

“While naked?” Juliette asked, batting her eyelashes.

“It was an informal meeting,” Kingsley said.

Michael had to stop kissing so he could laugh. At least here among these weirdos and perverts, he and Griffin would always find acceptance. And maybe if they were lucky, others would accept them too.

“Griffin Randolph Fiske,” Father S began, “you are now the proud owner of Michael Dimir. He is like a son to me. If you hurt him in any way that he does not want, you will answer to me.”

“And me,” Nora said, stepping forward to give both Michael and Griffin quick kisses on the cheek.

“Et moi,” said Kingsley.

“Et moi aussi,” said Juliette.

Michael swallowed a lump in his throat. He knew Griffin would never do anything to harm him, but it moved him beyond words to know he had all these amazing people on his side if he did.

“Don’t worry. Not going to happen,” Griffin said, taking Michael by the hand. “But I would like to hurt him in the ways he likes right now. So unless you want to watch, scoot.”

Griffin made the shooing gesture that had worked so well on Michael’s father.

No one moved. Griffin glared at Nora.

“What?” she asked with feigned innocence. “We all want to watch.”

26

Nora couldn’t stop smiling. She took a sip of her white wine and set the glass back on the table. It tasted so good she wanted to chug the whole thing, but they were at The 8th Circle and the new bartender Kingsley had hired actually enforced the two-drink-maximum rule. Surely she and Søren would play later that night, so it was for the best she stay sober and alert. Søren had been acting strangely all night. He and Kingsley kept sneaking off to whisper to each other. It wasn’t like either of them to keep her this out of the loop. But she trusted Søren. He’d tell her what was up when it was time. From across the room he glanced at her, and Nora smiled. He didn’t smile back.

After a few minutes he made his way to her. She stood at the edge of the bar in the VIP section looking down on the horde below. Music pounded in the background, bodies writhed. She used to love to play in the pit at The Circle. Topping…subbing…didn’t matter. Public kink was so humiliating, so primal. She’d experienced her worst agonies in the pit, had her strongest orgasms. But tonight, it seemed like another world to her—alien, foreign, distant.

“You’re quiet tonight, little one,” Søren said as he came to her and kissed her forehead.

“I’m fine, sir. My mind’s been a lot of places lately.”

“Has it been in Kentucky?”

Nora looked up at him sharply.

“Kentucky? No, it—”

“Eleanor.” Søren covered her lips with one finger. “Tell me the truth or do not speak at all.”

She nodded and he pulled his hand away.

“Yeah,” she admitted. “Sometimes it wanders to Kentucky. But it always comes back here, comes back to you.”

“I know it does. Being separated from you this summer…you should know I too felt my heart touched by someone else.”

Nora’s stomach tightened.

“That reporter was much hotter than she needed to be.”

“And intelligent and damaged.”

“Just your type. I’m glad she didn’t, you know, get to you more than she did. Get to us. I was worried there for a while that she’d find out what we are. Things could have gotten ugly. But I guess that would have kept you from being bishop, right?”

“The fact I had a reporter digging into my past kept me from becoming bishop,” Søren said, a little glint shining in his eyes. The glint told her all.

“Oh, you son of a bitch,” Nora groaned. “You were the one who tipped her off, weren’t you?”

“Kingsley, actually. Although it was my idea. I knew if I could tell the search committee that I had a tenacious reporter dogging my every step, they wouldn’t risk making me bishop and the news of my donation to the diocese going public.”

“You manipulative Machiavellian asshole, I love you.” Nora burst into laughter. She should have known. She absolutely should have known Suzanne’s presence in their lives had been Søren’s idea all along.

“In my defense,” Søren said without a hint of shame or contrition, “we did choose her because I knew I could help her.”

“Yes, you’re a saint. St. Søren the Bastard, Patron of Manipulation.” She couldn’t stop laughing. He really would do anything to protect them, to protect her.

“I’m still awaiting final approval on my canonization.”

Nora rose up on her toes and kissed him.

“You can open the card now,” Søren said into her lips.

“The card? Oh, the card.” Nora remembered that infuriating note Søren had given her at the beginning of the summer. She’d resisted the temptation to open it for weeks. From behind the bar she grabbed her bag and dug through it. Pulling out the card, she tore it open and read the words written on it in Søren’s elegant script.

You are formally invited to attend the  collaring of Griffin Fiske and Michael Dimir.

Nora’s jaw dropped. She looked at Søren and swatted his arm with the card.

“You knew?” Nora’s eyes nearly fell out of her head.

“Of course I knew,” Søren said. “I’ve known Griffin for years. I’m Michael’s confessor. I knew they’d fall in love with each other. I knew it would be a good opportunity for Griffin to redeem himself. I’m quite happy for Michael. He needs someone as out and as effusive in his affection as Griffin.”

“So you ordered Griffin to stay away from Michael because…?”

“We value the most what we must sacrifice to have. I never want Griffin taking Michael for granted. I don’t think he ever will.”

Nora looked at the card before tearing it into pieces and throwing it up in the air like confetti.