This entry is part of The Bastian Protocols series. If you’d like to start from the beginning, start here.
The trainee knew there would be others in the room before Bastian opened the door. He could hear conversation on the other side. Ice in glasses. Laughter that stopped as quickly as it started. The sound changed the shape of the evening.
Bastian stood beside him in the hallway. The trainee had never seen him dressed for a social setting. It was both less severe than the training room, and somehow more commanding.
“Look at me.”
The trainee turned away from the door.
“Color?”
“Green, Sir.”
“What are you feeling?”
“Nervous.”
“What else?”
“Exposed.”
Bastian nodded.
“What changed?”
“This isn’t the training room. There will be witnesses.”
“Yes.”
The trainee’s eyes moved toward the door again before Bastian touched two fingers beneath his chin and brought his attention back.
“Not an audience.”
The trainee breathed.
“What’s the difference?”
“An audience expects a performance.”
“And a witness?”
“Sees what is.”
Bastian’s hand dropped.
“Good.”
The trainee wore regular clothes. Nothing leather save for his belt and shoes. From across a room, no one would know what he was to Bastian. That should have made him feel safer. Instead, he felt unfinished.
Bastian noticed his hand move toward his throat.
“What are you looking for?”
“The collar.”
“You were told not to wear one.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Why?”
The trainee had thought about that all afternoon.
“Tonight is protocol, not display.”
“Correct.”
Bastian stepped closer.
“You won’t kneel unless I instruct you.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You will not address me as Sir unless we are speaking privately or I establish that protocol in the room.”
The instruction felt stranger than it should have.
“What should I call you?”
“Bastian.”
The trainee hesitated.
Bastian raised an eyebrow.
“Say it.”
“Bastian.”
The name felt almost too intimate.
“What changed?”
“It felt disrespectful.”
“It’s what I told you to call me, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Respect is obedience to, my instruction, not your attachment to a title.”
The trainee nodded.
“Words.”
“Yes, Bastian.”
“Better.”
Bastian continued.
“You are to remain within my line of sight unless I give permission otherwise.”
“Yes, Bastian.”
“You may accept food or drink from anyone in the room, if you so choose.”
“Yes.”
“You may speak freely unless I tell you to listen.”
“Yes.”
“You will not disclose details of our training, your history, or our private protocols to satisfy anyone’s curiosity.”
The trainee’s chest loosened slightly.
“Yes.”
“If someone asks a question you do not want to answer?”
“I say that it’s private.”
“And if they continue?”
“I find you.”
“No.”
The trainee looked at him.
“You stop them.”
Bastian’s voice remained calm.
“You don’t need to find me before defending your boundary.”
“Yes, Bastian.”
“And if the room becomes too much?”
“I tell you.”
“How?”
The trainee thought.
“May we have a signal?”
Bastian nodded.
“That was the correct question.”
He took the trainee’s right hand and turned it palm up.
“Touch two fingers to the inside of your wrist.”
The trainee demonstrated.
“That means you need me to check in.”
“Yes.”
“Close your hand into a fist.”
The trainee obeyed.
“That means we leave the room.”
“Immediately?”
“Immediately.”
The trainee’s throat tightened.
Bastian held his gaze.
“You will not need to justify it in front of anyone.”
“Yes, Bastian.”
“What is your color?”
“Green.”
“Do you want to enter?”
The trainee listened again to the voices beyond the door. He imagined strangers looking at him and seeing too much. He imagined doing something wrong. Embarrassing Bastian. Becoming an example without agreeing to it.
He felt the fear.
Beneath it was curiosity.
“Yes.”
Bastian opened the door.
Two sat by the fireplace. One stood at the small bar. The others occupied a low sofa across from the door. No one stared, that helped.
Bastian rested one hand at the small of the trainee’s back.
“Gentlemen, this is my trainee.”
Not my submissive.
Not my boy.
Not mine.
My trainee.
Bastian introduced the men one by one. Marcus. Julian. Ren. David. And Cole, who wore a narrow silver chain at his throat that looked decorative until the trainee noticed the small lock beneath his collarbone.
The trainee felt his attention linger there.
Cole noticed, his fingers touched the chain lightly.
“Later,” he said with a slight smile. “If you want to ask, it’s ok.”
The trainee looked at Bastian, who offered one small nod.
“Sit with me.”
The trainee followed him to the sofa and took the seat at his right. His felt like he should sit lower, but Bastian had said beside me, so he sat beside him.
A glass of water appeared in front of him. He took a drink. No one asked about collars or whether Bastian owned him. No one asked how much pain he could take or what happened behind the locked door.
They talked about an upcoming fundraiser, someone struggling to repair an old motorcycle, and the recent news about the local leather bar. The ordinariness of it all should have relaxed him. Instead, he was increasingly aware of his hands.
Should they rest on his thighs?
Keep them folded?
Was he sitting too close?
Not close enough?
He tried to read Bastian’s posture without turning his head. A familiar pressure built behind his ribs.
Guess. Adjust. Perform.
Bastian placed one hand on his knee. The trainee went still. No one else seemed to pick up on it.
Bastian continued speaking to Marcus as though nothing had happened, but his thumb pressed once against the trainee’s leg. The trainee recognized the correction.
Stay here.
He took a breath and stopped trying to solve the room. David leaned forward from the opposite chair.
“So how long have you been training?”
The trainee looked at Bastian. Bastian did not answer for him.
“Several months,” the trainee said.
“What are you training for?”
The question sounded harmless. The trainee felt the room narrow around it. He could say submission. Protocol. Service. A future collar. None of those answers felt like they belonged to David.
“I’m still learning what that means,” he said.
David smiled.
“That sounds evasive.”
The trainee felt heat rise in his face. Bastian’s hand remained on his knee. Not rescuing. Present.
David continued.
“I’m sure Bastian has given you some idea.”
The trainee touched two fingers to the inside of his wrist. Bastian’s hand tightened slightly on his knee.
“I have,” Bastian said. “And he has answered your question as far as he wishes to.”
David lifted both hands.
“Understood.”
The conversation flowed on. The trainee’s pulse raced where he had touched the signal. Bastian waited several minutes before leaning closer.
“Walk with me.”
They stood and crossed into the next room - the library. The door stayed open. Bastian stopped near a row of heavy bookshelves.
“What happened?”
“I didn’t like the question.”
“What else?”
“I thought I had to answer because he is your friend.”
Bastian’s expression stiffened.
“You do not owe access to anyone because they know me.”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
“I wanted you to answer for me.”
“Why?”
“So I wouldn’t say the wrong thing.”
Bastian stepped closer.
“Was your answer wrong?”
“No.”
“Did I correct it?”
“No.”
“Did I withdraw?”
“No.”
“What happened when you used the signal?”
“You came with me.”
“Yes.”
The trainee’s shoulders lowered.
Bastian watched him.
“Do you want to go back in?”
The trainee looked through the door. Nothing seemed to change in their absence.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want one uncomfortable question to control the evening.”
Bastian nodded.
“And that’s a conscious choice, not endurance?”
“Yes, Bastian.”
They returned to the room. Bastian resumed his place and rested one arm across the back of the sofa behind the trainee, who felt the warmth of him without needing to lean closer.
Cole shifted into the chair opposite them.
“You wanted to ask about this.”
He touched the silver chain at his throat.
The trainee glanced at Bastian.
“Ask him,” Bastian said.
The trainee looked back at Cole.
“Is it a collar?”
“It is.”
“It looks like jewelry.”
“That’s part of the point.”
Cole slid one finger beneath the chain.
“I can wear it almost anywhere without explanation. I can also remove it whenever I choose.”
The trainee studied the small lock.
“So it doesn’t really lock?”
“No.”
“Does that make it less meaningful?”
Cole smiled.
“It makes it accurate for the agreement I have.”
The answer stayed with the trainee. Before he could ask another question, Marcus spoke from the fireplace.
“Some people need the lock.”
The trainee looked at him. Marcus wore no visible collar, but his gaze moved briefly toward the man beside him.
“Not because they can’t leave,” Marcus continued. “Because they have made a choice they want marked by something that requires intention to undo.”
The trainee felt Bastian’s attention shift toward him. Not pressure. Recognition.
Cole noticed too.
“There are collars you wear because you are choosing every morning,” he said. “And collars you wear because you have made a more resolved choice.”
The trainee thought of the heavier collar in Bastian’s training room.
The one he had worn for a single night.
He felt a familiar urgency rise.
Which one would Bastian choose?
Which one would prove more?
What would it take to earn the locked one?
Bastian’s hand closed gently around the back of his neck. The trainee turned toward him.
“Where did you go?” Bastian asked.
The room had quieted. Not completely. Enough.
The trainee breathed.
“Into the future.”
Bastian’s thumb pressed once against his neck.
“Come back.”
The trainee looked around the room. Firelight. Water glass. Cole’s silver chain. Bastian’s hand.
“I’m here.”
“What are you feeling?”
“Wanting.”
“What else?”
“Impatient.”
“What else?”
The trainee looked at the men around them and felt heat move through his body.
“Observed.”
Bastian’s gaze sharpened.
“Do you want this conversation to continue?”
The trainee considered.
“Yes.”
“Do you want them to hear your answer?”
The question changed everything. He looked at the others. No one looked away, but no one leaned forward either. They were waiting.
Not demanding.
Witnessing.
“Yes,” the trainee said.
Bastian kept his hand at the back of his neck.
“What do you want?”
The trainee swallowed.
“I want to know what kind of collar you would choose for me.”
Bastian’s expression remained calm.
“That is not tonight’s decision.”
The trainee felt disappointment move through him.
He remained still.
“What does that answer not mean?” Bastian asked.
“That you do not want me.”
“What else?”
“That I have failed.”
“What else?”
“That there will never be a collar.”
Bastian nodded.
“What does it mean?”
“That you have not made the decision.”
“No.”
The trainee looked at him.
“That we have not made the decision.”
Bastian’s grip softened.
“Yes.”
The trainee became acutely aware that the others had heard the exchange. His face burned. Bastian did not hide him from it.
“What are you feeling now?”
“Embarrassed.”
“Why?”
“Because they heard me want something you wouldn’t promise.”
Bastian looked around the room.
“Did anyone here hear weakness?”
No one answered immediately.
Then Cole spoke.
“No.”
Marcus shook his head.
“What did you hear?” Bastian asked.
Cole looked at the trainee.
“A man asking a question.”
Marcus added, “And a Dominant refusing to turn desire into a promise before the structure exists.”
The trainee’s eyes burned. Bastian’s hand remained steady at his neck.
“What else are you feeling?”
The trainee looked at the men who had heard him and had not mocked him, advised him, or tried to pull the moment apart.
“Relieved.”
“Why?”
“Because they saw it.”
Bastian leaned closer.
“Saw what?”
“That I wanted something.”
“What else?”
“That you did not give it to me.”
Bastian waited.
“And nothing changed.”
“Yes.”
The room resumed breathing around them. Someone refilled a glass. Julian asked Marcus about the motorcycle. The moment closed without becoming a story anyone needed to tell again.
The trainee sat beside Bastian and let his body settle. For the first time, public protocol did not feel like exposure. It felt like structure carried into another room.
Later, when the gathering began to end, Bastian stood. The trainee rose beside him. Cole approached before they left.
“You asked a good question.”
The trainee looked at the silver chain again.
“So did you.”
Cole smiled.
“Those are harder.”
Bastian placed one hand at the trainee’s back. They said their goodbyes and stepped into the hallway. The door closed behind them and quiet returned.
Bastian turned to face him.
“What was the lesson?”
The trainee thought about the room. The question from David. The signal. The collar conversation. The fact that Bastian had let him speak for himself.
“That protocol doesn’t mean performing submission for other people.”
“And?”
“That being visible isn’t the same as being displayed.”
“And?”
The trainee looked at him.
“That your authority doesn’t take away my privacy.”
“Anything else?”
He thought of the men who had witnessed his desire and Bastian’s refusal.
“That witnesses don’t get to dictate what they see.”
Bastian nodded.
“And what did they witness?”
The trainee took his time.
“An agreement that remained intact even when I wanted more than you could honestly give.”
Bastian’s expression softened.
“Yes.”
The trainee glanced toward the closed door.
“Did I represent you well?”
Bastian’s gaze sharpened. The trainee immediately understood the problem.
“That is the wrong question.”
“Yes.”
The trainee breathed.
“Did I remain honest?”
“Yes.”
“Did I follow the protocol?”
“Yes.”
“Did I use the signal when I needed you?”
“Yes.”
Bastian stepped closer. His hand closed around the trainee’s jaw.
“You represented yourself.”
The trainee held his gaze.
“And I was proud to stand beside you.”
The words struck deeper than praise. The trainee’s throat tightened.
“Thank you, Bastian.”
Bastian raised one eyebrow. The trainee understood.
“Thank you, Sir.”
Bastian kissed him. Not for the room or the witnesses. Not as proof that the evening had gone well. He kissed the trainee because they were alone again, and because he chose to. When the kiss ended, Bastian rested his forehead against his.
“One day, there may be a ceremony.”
The trainee went still.
Bastian’s hand remained at his jaw.
“There may be witnesses.”
The trainee’s breath caught.
“There may be a choice placed in front of you.”
Bastian’s voice lowered.
“But you will never choose a collar because the room expects an answer.”
The trainee looked into his eyes.
“No, Sir.”
“You will not choose to prove devotion.”
“No.”
“You will not choose because you are afraid.”
“No, Sir.”
“You will choose according to what is true and honest and real.”
The trainee breathed.
“And if I don’t know?”
“Then you don’t choose. Yet.”
Bastian released his jaw. The trainee felt the future rise again. This time, he didn’t chase it. He had entered the room afraid that other people might see too much.
Instead, they had seen exactly what Bastian allowed to remain visible. A trainee learning to speak. A Dominant who did not answer for him. A desire that had not become a promise. A structure strong enough to be witnessed without becoming a performance.
For now, that was enough.
The Assignment
This entry is part of The Bastian Protocols series. If you’d like to start from the beginning, start here.