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my hips to steady it, and he found the rhythm again.
He turned suddenly so that he faced me. I thought we d lose the hoop for sure, but
he gave it a saving bump with his hip.
That s popping your ass, I said.
Let s speed it up, he suggested.
We sped up, grinding harder and with more urgency. I grabbed him around the
waist, slamming his hips with mine and rubbing my dick against his belt buckle until I
came. The hoop clattered on the floor. He didn t let me go. He had his arms around me
Calling the Show 159
and was nearly lifting me off the floor with each of his dry thrusts. He came, squeezing
the shit out of me and moaning into my neck.
All right, I said finally. So that s tandem hooping.
He stepped back. I like it.
That s awesome that we got it so fast.
Got what? Tandem hooping? Or off?
I whacked his shoulder. Hooping, you creep.
I m glad you took charge. I didn t know what the hell I was doing.
I was pleased but gave credit where it was due. You made an executive decision
in the middle there.
You said it could be done front to front.
Look. You re in charge in the theater. I m in charge when we re hooping.
And who s in charge in the bedroom?
I laughed. That s a shared responsibility.
I think we need a permanent alpha.
Do you now? And I ll bet you think you re the most qualified candidate.
He shrugged.
Jerk.
You re the one who wants to be spanked. And tit-tortured.
You re the one who likes his wrists tied with gold sparkly tape.
He stooped to kiss me and surprised me by picking me up and cradling me Pieta
style. I yelped. You re like a feather, he said.
A feather that could crush your skull with its ab muscles.
He laughed.
160 J.A. Rock
I knew I was as strong as him physically. But hell, it felt really, really nice to be
carried. Maybe I was whatever the leather-and-dungeons term was for it. Maybe I was
submissive.
But I wasn t weak. And submissive wasn t all I was.
I bit the side of his neck until he yowled and let me down.
I think I have an idea, I said.
For what?
For determining who s the alpha.
I hope it involves feats of strength, impossible quests, and riddles.
It might. I grinned. Jesse Ferelit, I d like to challenge you to a contest.
Calling the Show 161
Chapter Seventeen
Jesse
Honestly, if I d been able to concentrate on anything but his smile, I d never have
agreed to it.
The rules were simple. And horrifying.
For the next five days, we d alternate who called the show the figurative show,
not the literal one. Each day, whoever s turn it was got to demand one act of submission
from the other. The act could take place privately, in the bedroom, or it could be
something more public a stipulation that frightened me. If one of us couldn t or
wouldn t perform one of the requests, the one calling the show got to think of
something else. The idea was that by the end of the week, we d have evidence of who
excelled at being in charge, and who excelled at taking orders.
We played Rock, Paper, Scissors to see who would go first. He won. He told me to
meet him in front of Findlay the next morning at eight.
I don t have class until ten, I complained.
Too bad. I have class at nine. I have to run an errand in the morning; then I ll
meet you.
I hung up, grumbling.
The next morning at eight, I arrived at Findlay Hall to find Sim waiting for me. I
glared at him. What are you so happy about? I asked.
Close your eyes.
I opened my mouth to protest.
Ferret, he warned.
162 J.A. Rock
Against my better judgment, I closed my eyes. He slipped something around my
neck a necklace, I presumed, since there was a thin chain involved that was warm in
one section from being in Sim s hand. I could smell his deodorant and his shampoo as
he put it on me.
Open.
It was a dog tag, in the shape of a bone. I lifted it from the front of my shirt and
read the engraved print. My ass belongs to Simeck Whedon.
I stared at the words, feeling both insanely embarrassed and unexpectedly
pleased. What do I do with this? I asked.
You wear it. All day.
Wearing a necklace. That was doable. I started to tuck it down my shirt.
Uh-uh. You keep it on display. Text facing out.
I stared at him. What if someone reads it?
I hope they do. That cost me eight dollars at the pet store.
I can t.
Are you caving already?
Was I?
Sim.
Yeah?
It s not school appropriate.
He laughed. You can wear it or not. But you re not off to a very good start if you
refuse.
I fingered the tag. You gonna follow me around all day to make sure I wear it?
Nope. I m gonna trust you.
Well, there went my day. I d planned to talk to Sayida for a few minutes about my
interview on Saturday, but I wasn t going to risk her seeing who my ass belonged to.
Calling the Show 163
I had world history at ten. A large lecture class where I didn t know anyone, thank
God.
I stepped into Findlay just for a few minutes to grab a diet soda.
And of course ran into Audra at the vending machine.
Jesse. What s up? Cool necklace.
I thought she was gonna leave it at that, but she opened her Coke slowly, waited
for it to stop fizzing, and glanced at my chest again.
What s it say?
Nothing, I said, stepping back.
Did Sim give it to you?
No comment.
She nodded knowingly and wandered back toward the box office.
I made it through the day without incident. In fact, by dinnertime, I was feeling
pretty pleased. I d gone the whole day with my ass s rightful owner engraved on a tag
around my neck. The world hadn t noticed, but I d been almost constantly aware of it.
My ass belongs to Simeck Whedon.
I couldn t think of anyone better to have it belong to.
I hooped while I waited for Sim to get out of class.
I moved the table and chairs to one side of the kitchen and practiced in there, since
we were going through a cold spell again.
I was getting really good at hooping around my thighs.
Pop that ass, I whispered to myself.
I practiced tosses and passes, making up my own routines and wishing I had
Sim s natural ability to choreograph hooping moves.
I realized I had to come up with something for him to do tomorrow.
I liked the contest.
164 J.A. Rock
I did.
But part of me thought it seemed kind of unnecessary.
Was that because I believed if there was a dominant in this relationship, it was
me? Was it because I thought Sim was a natural submissive?
I d been doing a lot of BDSM research lately, and I didn t know how I felt about
what I was learning.
I really couldn t have cared less about costumes and cages and whatever else. And
the more I read about a dominant partner s duty in a D/s relationship, the more I was
like shit. How could I provide all those things? Boundaries, security, direction? Did
Sim need me to? Was that what he wanted? How did I know? I d managed to ask him
about the spanking thing. And we d joked about who was in charge in the bedroom.
But how did we figure out if we were those words dominant and submissive?
Lately I d noticed this desire to not control Sim. That wasn t it. I mean sure, I
liked to control pretty much everything and everyone around me. But not Sim. I liked
that he was a force all his own. That he didn t let me control him and never had.
The desire had to do with our physical placement. I loved that he was smaller than
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