Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Davy
My track record with men sucks, but Bash seemed to think it was okay for me to go with Will, and I trusted him to warn me if I was making a mistake. I work for the bikers, I’m not one of them, but they look out for me.
Still, it seemed too good to be true that this godlike man who was obviously filthy rich was interested in me. I was a little worried he didn’t want to tell me what he does for a living yet, but I was pretty sure Bash would’ve warned me if he did something illegal.
Will seemed bigger than life, like he wasn’t real, or rather, too good to be true. Like some big Hollywood star trying to be normal.
Someone opened the restaurant door for us as we approached, walked us in without small talk, sat us at a table, and Will told him, “Your best Belgian White beer for Davy here, and I’ll have a Murphy’s Irish Stout. We’ll start with the gougères, and some peach and goat cheese tartines.”
Usually, you don’t give the person who seats you your order, but this man nodded and told him he’d be right back with our drinks.
“I take it they know you here?”
“I know the owner. She makes sure I’m taken care of.”
A man was standing kind of against a wall, so he could see us in his peripheral vision, but he seemed to just be watching the rest of the restaurant. I could see other customers, but Will’s back was to the restaurant so he couldn’t see anyone.
I ignored them and told Will, “I appreciate you ordering something with peaches for me. Is there a menu?”
“There is, but I figure we’ll have steaks. Let me feed you, Davy. How do you like your steak cooked?”
“Medium, but that means I order it medium-well because they never cook it enough if you just say medium. I like a little pink, but not red.”
“In about thirty minutes, possibly as long as an hour, but no longer than that, I’m going to tell you my secret, and you’re going to tell me yours. A big secret, and don’t say you don’t have one because I can tell you do. Meanwhile, tell me your biggest relationship fantasy — the power exchange dynamic, or a specific act you’ve never felt close enough to someone to actually play out, or something else. The topic for now is big things, though, so make it good. You first, and then I’ll go. You get to decide the next topic, and then I’ll go first.”
Did I dare tell him my hopes and dreams? I mean, if it turned him off, he may as well take me home, right? It seemed a no-brainer to tell him, but I was still reticent.
But Bubbles had taught me to answer questions without waffling, so I did my best.
“Once upon a time, the big relationship fantasy was for me to be a total slave. Completely owned. No income, no bank account, and my closet locked so I couldn’t even access my clothes without someone unlocking it. Which doesn’t make sense because I’d be the one doing the laundry, right? Still, I wanted to completely belong to someone, and not just a full-time sex slave, but a full-time slave. Everything . Now that I can support myself, I’m not sure how the fantasy works with reality. I need to keep enough autonomy I’ll be okay if something happens to my Master, or if he decides we’re done and he kicks me out. How could I have a job and my own money and still completely belong to him? I’m not sure I could, so I don’t really know how it would work, but I won’t sign away my financial independence. Still, I want to totally belong to someone, even if it isn’t feasible.”
“Do you consider yourself a slave, submissive, service submissive, something else?”
“I think, with one master, I was his property, so I guess slave. With my next, probably service submissive more than slave, but I was still kind of his property? There was affection, but not love. It was more of an arrangement for him, and I knew that, so it was my fault I fell in love. He was tough, and harsh, but I still loved him.”
Someone brought our drinks, and I took a sip of mine and had to close my eyes, it was so good. I have some money in savings now, but I’m frugal with it so I don’t splurge for the kind of beer I like unless it’s a really special occasion.
Will took a sip of his and gave me his answer. “I need someone in my life who is mine, who follows orders, and who helps make my life run. I have an assistant and a house manager who mostly handle the daily details, and that includes someone who deals with my laundry, but still, I need someone who considers himself either slave or service submissive. I prefer slave, but for the right person, service submissive could work. Someone who’ll get me a beer, blow me while I watch porn, maybe just lie across me with my balls in his mouth while I plot and plan some work. You need to know I’m bisexual, and I eventually want a man and woman in my life. Whether the two of you are platonic friends or become lovers doesn’t much matter to me, so long as the three of us can all sleep together at least sometimes. I haven’t met her yet, but if you and I work, you should know I’ll be fucking women when I’m out of town, looking for our third, but I won’t be fucking strange men anymore.”
“And if I don’t like the woman you choose?”
“Then we won’t work as a poly group, will we? I’ll be Master, but we’ll all have to like each other. It isn’t like I can order you to deal with it, right?”
“I don’t like women. I mean, not sexually.”
“But you can be friends with them, yes? I’ve always known the first person I chose would have to be my property, but the second? Maybe she’ll be submissive, or maybe we’ll both Top the other together. It’ll be easier to find our third, because it’ll be about personalities and not so much the power exchange dynamic.” He sat back. “Your turn. What do you want to know about me? Just remember, you’ll have to answer the same question.”
“Besides power exchange, what’s your biggest kink? Bondage? Sadism? Something else?”
“Oh, I like the power of being inside someone else. Especially my dick, but also my fist, as well as gags, butt plugs, penis plugs. Sometimes you’ll have my fingers in your mouth or even down your throat while I’m fucking your ass. And even when I’m not fucking you, you’ll wear a butt plug a whole helluva lot. I might put a string of large, heavy anal beads in you while we work out, and challenge you to hold them in. A reward if you can, an unpleasant consequence if you can’t. I’m also a fan of clamps — nipples, tongue, ballsack. Some slaves, I have fun caging their dick, others are more fun to leave free and only cage them when I’m displeased with them. We’ll have to figure out which you are, but expect to be fitted for a cock cage if you become mine, and a PA piercing eventually, so I can lock it on.”
My dick spasmed in my pants and I had to take a breath to try to deal with the raw, feral lust racing through my veins.
“Your turn,” he said. “What do you hope I want to do to you?”
“My first Master never warmed me up. Just fucked me right off the bat. He liked that it hurt. My second Master was huge. Like, coke-can thick. He spent a couple of minutes getting me ready most of the time, unless I’d displeased him, but it still hurt like fuck even with some prep. I guess that’s what does it for me — just bending me over and taking your pleasure without worry for mine. Also, when face to face, a hand around my throat gets me so hard…”
I looked down. It was important to be completely honest, and there was more. I met his gaze, and I saw kindness and excitement, rather than disgust. “Blow jobs where I can’t breathe much, too. My first Master used a lot of bondage, but my second Master ordered me where he wanted me and expected me to stay put. It’s a lot harder to put your hands and feet somewhere and keep them there than it is to be bound into position. Both are hot. One Master whipped me and caned me, the other was big on using soap as punishment — in my mouth or ass. Both are awful. He’d also squeeze my balls for five to twenty seconds, depending on how much trouble I was in. When he was really upset with me, he’d pull my balls down into the bottom of the sack and hold them there with one hand while he hit them with the other. I puked a few times, it hurt so bad.”
Of course, that was because we were in prison and he didn’t have a cane handy to beat me with, and his hand made too much noise spanking me.
“What did you do that required him to punish you?”
I sighed. “That’s kind of part of my big secret. I was stupid, and I guess gullible, and he was trying to teach me not to be.”
“Okay. I gotta tell you I expect obedience. There’ll be punishments while you’re learning what I like and don’t like, but once you settle in, I don’t expect there’ll be a whole lot. We’ll do maintenance on a schedule if you need it, and likely a boot camp type schedule for a week or more if you move in with me, and then once a year at my convenience, but a partner who misbehaves for attention doesn’t work for me.”
“I want to be good. That shouldn’t be a problem, Sir.”
“Okay, favorite music genre, favorite band, list of your favorite songs. Whichever of those works for you.”
“Oh, one of my foster brothers at the house I lived in most of high school played the guitar, and I’m a big fan of eighties songs with guitar riffs. He was kind of my first love, you know? So, Pour Some Sugar on Me, Sweet Child o’ Mine, Livin’ on a Prayer, Sweet Home Alabama, Welcome to the Jungle, Born to be Wild . He could play them all. I know most of those are metal songs, but that isn’t really my genre. When I go to The Diamond Club with Razor and Matty, they play songs I’ve mostly never heard before. I like some of them, but I don’t know what they are. I know someone who knows someone who plays for Mythic Beast, and I like Them’s the Breaks . It speaks to me. What about you?”
“It’s earlier than I’d planned, but you mentioning Them’s the Breaks …” He shrugged. “It seems someone’s telling me it’s time to tell you my big secret, which will also answer the question. I didn’t lie when I told you my name.” He looked around, off to the side and a little behind him, and turned back to me. “My legal name is Will Bryant, and my friends call me Will, but my stage name is Lord Byron Wilsin. I wrote Them’s the Breaks . It’s my song. I’m the lead singer for Mythic Beast. The guy you keep eyeing behind us is one of my bodyguards. I told them I’d stay home today and didn’t need security, but then I found out my car was ready, and went to pick it up without telling anyone. I’m safe with the MC, so it should’ve been fine to pick it up, drive around, and go home, but then there was this adorable little slaveboy who caught my eye, and here we are.” He shrugged. “My assistant sent them and then texted me to let me know what she’d done.”
I sat back and stared at him. I wanted to be mad he hadn’t told me, but I couldn’t be. Could I? It wasn’t like he’d lied. Also, he’d let me know there was a secret, kind of.
Also, this explained the larger-than-life thing I got from him, and the sexiness, I supposed.
A server brought us our appetizers, and Will told him, “I’m tempted to order the Wagyu, but let’s go with the chef’s choice on which steak to prepare for us, and we’d both like them pink but not red, somewhere between medium and medium well. We want a potato side which can again be chef’s choice, and I’m in the mood for some savory mushrooms, whatever will work with the steak, and make that for both of us as well.” He looked at me. “Problem with any of that?”
I shook my head, unsure of how to address him, of what to say.
The server told him he’d bring us more beer, and then Will and I spent a few minutes tasting the appetizers. The peach deal was so amazingly good, I made a mental note to write down whatever it was called so I could look up the recipe.
But I was also thinking back to when he first arrived in the shop. “It makes sense, now. You expected me to recognize you. Is that why you asked me out? Because I didn’t?”
“It might be a small part of it, but I’d have asked you out either way. I admit it’s nice knowing you were attracted to me, to Will, and not to Lord Byron. People think they know Lord Byron, but he’s just a stage presence. I’m Will in my everyday life. It’s nice to shed the rockstar and just be me.”
I shook my head. “No, you’re always the rockstar. I kept thinking it was like you were some Hollywood star pretending to be normal. I feel like I should be upset that you weren’t honest, but you’re right that you didn’t lie, and it isn’t like you waited days to tell me, so…” I shrugged. “Honesty’s important to me. Please try to be more upfront in the future?”
* * * *
Will
Little Davy might be submissive, but he wasn’t a doormat, and I respected that more than I was willing to consider in the middle of an important conversation.
“Honesty is important to me, too, and I’m sorry you feel I’ve damaged even a tiny bit of trust. I hope you understand why I wanted to get to know you a little more before I told you.” I didn’t want him to feel obligated to agree or not, so I quickly changed the subject. “I like that you picked up on that song, more than my others. I mean, almost all of them come from my soul, but that one’s kind of like my life mantra. Life isn’t fair, and you deal with shit as it comes to you. Yeah?”
He nodded. “Yes. I grew up kind of in the middle of nowhere, so when I went to the big city I was an easy mark. I wasn’t even smart enough to know I was an easy mark.”
“I feel like you’re leading into your big secret?”
He nodded. “I think it needs some background, but I get the feeling it’s okay to take a while getting to the secret?”
It felt like he bit back calling me Sir, but I didn’t comment on it. We hadn’t negotiated power exchange. We were talking as equals, and that was how this particular conversation needed to happen.
“Whatever you feel I need to know about you,” I assured him.
“In the foster system where I grew up, you get kicked out when you’re eighteen. If you haven’t graduated high school and you haven’t been a discipline problem, you can sometimes get an extension up to ninety days, but then that’s it. I got kicked out the day after I got out of school, a week before the graduation ceremony. I left with a suitcase with, like, two pairs of jeans and a half-dozen shirts, and my toothbrush and comb. I’d worked in high school, so I had about a thousand dollars, and I’d applied to work on cruise ships, since they house you while you work. I got myself to Miami, and I worked for seven months without a break, seven days a week, fourteen-hour days. The pay isn’t great, but you don’t have any expenses. They feed you and house you, so everything I made went into savings. I took two months off and lived in a cheap by-the-week place, and then after that, I worked four months on and one month off. I met my first Master during that month off, at a gay bar in Miami. He was rich, and he took control of me and taught me how to be his slave. I loved it.”
“Until?”
He gave a single nod. “Right, until I figured out what he did for a living, and what he was going to expect me to do in order to pay my way. He brought drugs into the country and distributed them for…” he shrugged. “Can’t tell you too much, right? Anyway, he expected me to transport drugs all over the country. Once a month, he’d load up my trunk and I’d drop them off in Atlanta, Chattanooga, Nashville, and points north, and then drive home with a shitload of cash. Sometimes I’d go to Birmingham, Memphis, and north from there. I didn’t want to do it, but he’d fixed it so I lost my cruise ship job, and he took all my money. Also, he’d lock a chastity device on me before I left, and I had to come home to get it off. It was a steel ring around my waist that dipped down and held the device on, with a hollow plug inside my cock, and sharp tips inside the cage, so I’d bleed if I got hard with it on. When I got arrested, they had to get someone to saw the damned thing off me. They thought I’d roll on whoever put it on me, but I thought I loved him, you know?”
“You weren’t afraid of what he’d do to you?”
“Well, yeah, there was that, too, but mostly I cared too much about him to get him in trouble. Five years of prison for me, which got reduced to about half that because the attorney Master paid for gave me something from Master that I could plea bargain a little with. Thankfully, I only had one delivery left when I was pulled over, but Master would’ve gone to jail a lot longer if I’d rolled on him. They knew it was him, but they couldn’t prove it since I wouldn’t talk, so they put me in prison.”
“And that’s why your second Master used quiet methods to punish you? No belts in prison?”
“It was a minimum-security prison. He’d been in max, but he was close to getting out and had been transitioned to this one. He taught me a lot. Turns out, I didn’t need to find the biggest guy and offer myself to him in a minimum-security facility, but he didn’t tell me that until the night before he was released. Still, I learned a lot about not being gullible from him.”
In my job, the songs should be the product, but all too often it feels as if I’m the product, and I have to consider how the public will view certain aspects of my life. The thing about being a rockstar is that dating a felon can be seen as badass. I never thought I’d do so, but in this case, it felt okay. Still, I was hoping he wasn’t actually a felon. I mean, I have some guns in my house, and I had no idea of how the law around that might work. I seemed to remember something about misdemeanors being less than a year in jail, but it was possible I was wrong.
“Five years, down to half? So, that’s a felony?”
He nodded. “I only ended up in jail for a little over two years, like, two years and five weeks, because you have to do eighty-five percent of your sentence when it’s federal. The judge told me I could apply to have it pushed down to a misdemeanor after I got out, and if he heard good things from the warden, he’d consider it. I did, and the judge granted it. I guess they had to play hardass as long as possible to try to get me to roll, but at the end of my trial when I hadn’t rolled yet, I guess the judge took pity on me for that, at least. So, I’m legally not considered a felon, which means I can vote and buy guns. I’ve done the former, but not the other.”
“Good for you.”
“You didn’t tell me your favorite songs. What do you listen to? I’m assuming you don’t just listen to your own music.”
I smiled. Boy had a point. “I listen to everything — pop, hip-hop, a little rap, even some country, though not a whole lot of that one. Once a month, I listen to the top one hundred while I work out because I figure it’s part of my job to know what’s popular. I also enjoy some classical — Rachmaninoff, Bach. Not so much Mozart, though a few of his pieces work for me. I’m negotiating to purchase the rights to do a remake of Sinatra’s My Way , and I should’ve had you sign an NDA before telling you that, but if I can’t trust you with my secrets, what’s the point, right? Sometimes I listen to stuff from a hundred or more years ago while I run or work out. I’m kind of all over the place because I never want my own work to get stuck in a rut.”
“I won’t tell. Thanks for trusting me.”
“You’re welcome. Trust is important for me, too, and I regret that you feel I was iffy with my honesty at first. I need to know what happened when you got out of prison. How did you end up here?”
“I learned how to do upholstery in prison, and I made my way here for a job.” He looked extremely uncomfortable, and he sat back in the booth. “Look, I’m sorry, but I can’t really explain how I ended up here. I mean, there are some secrets that aren’t just mine, you know? I need to check in with the other person and get their okay, first.”
Logic told me he was in prison with one of the local bikers, and whoever it was isn’t out of the closet. I needed to know the story, but it could wait. “I appreciate your integrity. Let’s skip how you ended up with the bikers, and tell me your conversation with your first Master when you were released from prison.”
“He sent someone to collect me when I got out, which was a huge relief, but then less than a week later, he expected me to run drugs for him again, and when I refused, he didn’t even punish me — he just had someone drop me off in downtown Miami with two hundred dollars and instructions I wasn’t welcome back.”
“Why two hundred dollars?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I had nearly five thousand dollars in the bank when I met him, and he took it all once he became my Master, and I’m sure I’d have been paid thousands for running drugs if he hadn’t owned me. He bought me nice things, and I lived in a mansion on the ocean with him, so it isn’t like I didn’t get anything out of the deal. Also, he paid for fancy lawyers for me, and put money in my commissary account while I was inside, so maybe he had some kind of tally in his head?” He shrugged. “I loved my time with him, at first. I thought I loved him, but in hindsight…” He shook his head, as if tossing everything back into the past once again. “The money was enough to get a train ticket to Atlanta and then a bus ticket here, and enough food I didn’t starve on the way.”
Are train tickets cheaper than bus tickets? I had no idea, and I didn’t want to get us off on a tangent. This conversation was important, but that was probably all he was going to share about his first Master until he got to know me better, and I needed to know more about his experiences. I took a few seconds to figure out what I most wanted to know that wasn’t out-of-bounds, and landed on, “I understand why you can’t tell me about whoever you were with in prison, so what about since you were out? I know there hasn’t been anyone serious, but what have you learned from those you’ve played with?”
“Mostly, that I want to belong to someone. I mean, I can handle the no-strings stuff, and it scratches an itch every once in a while, but unless the itch just really needs scratching, I’m happier working, reading, exercising, and doing other things to occupy myself.”
I was going to have to be careful with this one. The Rolling Thunder guys had accepted me into their extended family. Hailey, our guitar player, is family to them, and I’m family to Hailey. I didn’t want to do anything to screw that up, and it felt like Davy was being protected by them as an employee. Not necessarily part of the family, but someone they claimed.
“Understand,” I told him, “I’m not making promises other than to say I’m interested and I’d like to see where this goes. Do you feel comfortable coming home with me? I have two homes, one on Missionary Ridge in the city and one nearly an hour north of town. We can go to the closer one tonight. Do you work with a single safeword, or two?”
“My first two Masters didn’t allow a safeword, but I’ve been working with red and yellow with the men I’ve been playing with.”
I sat back and chose my words carefully. The dream was to have a slave without a safeword, but I hadn’t thought it was feasible so it’d never been a dealbreaker — but the knowledge he’d been with two Masters who hadn’t allowed one turned my dick to throbbing granite.
What would it be like to belt this young man, knowing he couldn’t speak a word and stop me?
But not tonight, so I told him, “You’ll have your safewords tonight and that isn’t negotiable, but I’m curious as to your thoughts on them for a long-term situation.”
He shrugged, looked down, and then back up. “It would take a lot of trust for me to agree to it, now that I know it isn’t the norm, and I don’t honestly know if I’d want it just for scenes or for outside of scenes, too. You know? But yeah, at least within a scene, I think I’d be happiest without any control at all, but only if I completely trust the man I’m with.”
He’d had two beers, and he seemed a good bit more relaxed. Was that because he was getting used to me, or was it the beer? I didn’t know, and it seemed important he was sober for whatever was going to happen.
“How much beer can you drink and still be responsible for your actions? I mean, you’re responsible for them legally no matter what, but I’m talking morally, here. On your honor, should I let you have another beer, or should I cut you off?”
“When I’m not driving, I usually restrict myself to two if there’s no food involved, sometimes three or four if I eat and it’s an extended time.”
“I appreciate your honesty. One more for you, then, and even though I’m fine with one more to drive, I’ll cut myself off so you don’t worry about riding with me.”