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Marcus studied him. Then he nodded once. "Good. That's a start." Their first scene was in Marcus's basement, which he'd turned into a quiet, absurdly tidy dungeon. No red satin or whips on the wall—just clean mats, a suspension rig, and a shelf of lotions and first-aid supplies.

It lasted an hour. Maybe two. Cory checked out somewhere in the middle, floating above his body, watching himself get used.

But Marcus was still holding his hands. And for the first time in years, Cory didn't feel the itch. love junkie sub

"I want to feel held," Cory whispered. "And I want to feel like I don't have to earn it for five fucking minutes."

So one night, when Marcus was out of town for a conference, Cory went to a bar. Marcus studied him

Cory started to feel solid. Like a person instead of a wound.

Marcus had him kneel. Not on rice or gravel, just on a thick foam pad. He checked in four times before Cory's knees even started to ache. He showed Cory each piece of rope, explained where it would go and why. He had a safeword. He had a second safeword for "I'm not in danger, but I'm spiraling." That's a start

He went home with Derrick. Derrick didn't ask about limits. He didn't show him the rope. He just pushed Cory onto his stomach, held him down by the back of the neck, and took what he wanted.