Page 152 of Carrick
Jax tilted his head, his sharp, calculating mind working behind quiet eyes. “You asking as her Dominant, or as her partner?”
“Both,” I said. “But my control stays intact. I’m offering her body to your skill. Not her submission.”
His gaze flicked to Bellamy. “Do you understand the distinction?”
She nodded. “Yes. I do.”
Jax gave one short nod. “Then I’ll work within your limits. I’ll use rope. I’ll monitor vitals. I’ll push, but I won’t take. She safewords, I respond. You say stop, I stop.”
I didn’t move. “There’s more.”
Jax stilled, waiting for me to continue.
“If it turns sexual,” I said, “it stays on my terms. You touch, you guide—but I’m the one in charge of her arousal. Her release. Everything.”
Jax considered that. Not in hesitation—he knew exactly what I was saying. And what I wasn’t. Then his attention shifted back to Bellamy. “And you? Do you consent to that?”
She arched a brow—just slightly. Not defiant. Not coy. Just… her. Fierce and unshaken. “As long as Carrick is the one callingthe shots?” she said, voice low but steady. “Then yeah. I want all of it.”
Jax nodded once.
“Then we begin.”
He gestured toward the center of the mat, where a soft cushion and a low-lying floor frame rested.
“Shoes off,” he added, glancing at me. “You’ll need to spot her if anything shifts. I want your hands free.”
I nodded, kicking off my boots and stepping closer to Bellamy.
“You good?” I asked softly.
Her eyes were wide—but steady. “I am.”
I nodded. “Then lets get that tee-shirt off of you. I need you naked for what’s coming.”
She obeyed without question, pulling the shirt over her head, then standing firm in her nudity. The fact that Jax was in the room didn’t phase her one bit. Based on what I knew of her past in kink, being naked in front of strangers wasn’t an issue for her, so I wasn’t surprised at how comfortable she was with this.
“I want you to do something for me,” I said. “A safeword of sorts. In addition to your colors.”
She tilted her head.
“If it gets too much—too fast—or you lose the ability to speak, I want you to drop this.”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the old keyring she’d picked off my desk the first week she was here. A small bronze circle with small metal charms. Silent in the hand, but unmistakable when it hit the floor.
Her fingers curled around it.
She nodded.
“It’ll make noise?” Jax asked, already unrolling rope beside her.
“Loud enough,” I said.
“Good. Tactile fallback safeword. Noted.”
Then he knelt at her feet and reached for the first coil of rope.
“This will be atakate kote, or a box tie,” he murmured, voice slow and reverent, like someone reciting a ritual. “Arms behind your back, forearms parallel. Rope will cross above and below the chest line, with triple friction knots at the anchor points. It will lock your arms, but not restrict breathing. Tell me if your fingers go numb.”
