Chapter 9
Chapter 9
Will
I stopped, touched his shoulder, and turned him to face me. “You had no idea who I was. I’m sorry I broke trust a little by not telling you right away, but do you understand a little more why I did, now? I wanted us to get to know each other some before you knew, so I could be sure you were getting to know Will and not Lord Byron Wilsin.”
Davy looked at me a few seconds before giving a slow nod. “You’re right. I liked you before I knew you were super-rich. I mean, obviously you were wealthy enough to buy the Stingray and have it restored, but a McLaren is a whole different kind of wealth. Even renting one for a month.”
I kissed his forehead and headed towards his tiny little home again. I’d seen the Google street view, but it’d been a good ways back from the road. Still, you could tell by the size of the front door that it wasn’t just small, but tiny. Our tour bus has more square footage.
The black SUV my security guys were in pulled up, and I stepped Davy off the driveway so they could pull up to the house. One of the men got out, walked to the back, and pulled the picnic basket from the back. I accepted it with a, “Thanks,” and kept walking towards Davy’s front porch.
Two small chairs were on the front porch, and I turned to look at his view while I waited for Davy to use a key to unlock the door. Inside was miniscule, but I suppose it was enough for a single person. A modular loveseat against the wall to the right, a small television hanging on the wall near the door. A ladder leading to what was probably the bedroom over the kitchen. I didn’t see a table, and didn’t think the kitchen was big enough to have one, but Davy walked towards the ladder, unhooked something from the wall, and pulled it down from the wall to create a small table.
“I’ll get us some plates and silverware from the kitchen,” Davy said. “The two chairs outside come in when I want to use the table.”
I set the basket on the table and went out to bring the chairs in. My security team had pulled out to the end of the driveway, but I didn’t see them in the SUV. I’ve long since stopped worrying about where they are, so I went back inside with the chairs.
Davy’s tiny little home was neat and tidy. It reminded me more of a small RV than a house, but he had some privacy, and the woods behind him were nice. The location was excellent, and I supposed it had everything he needed.
“What’s for dinner?” he asked when he came out with plates and silverware. “I have orange juice, water, and I can make some tea. I have some grape electrolyte stuff, too.”
“I brought the beer you like,” I told him, and I was glad I’d thought of it. My house manager usually packs plates and silverware, but she told me that might be an insult to Davy, since we were eating in his home. She said if he only had paper plates, that would be fine.
This basket has a section for hot stuff and another area for cold. The basket was nearly as big as the table, so I put it on the floor and pulled the hot things out — fried chicken and corn on the cob. Next came the potato salad, deviled eggs, and beer from the cold side. “We have watermelon for dessert.” I’d filled the table with the bowls of food. “I guess we need to fill our plates and then put all the bowls back in the basket.” I retrieved the bottle opener and popped the caps on both bottles of beer.
I’d thought we would look over the contract on the laptop while we ate, but the table was too small for our plates and the laptop. My phone opens up to tablet sized, so I pulled the contract up on it and used the stand on the cover to prop it up.
“I don’t intend to sit here in silence while you read it. This is a discussion. Read each paragraph out loud, and then we’ll discuss it. This is a starting point. Also, do you have a list for me?”
He pulled his wallet from his pocket, removed a folded sheet of paper from it, handed the paper to me, and put his wallet back.
I unfolded the paper and took a moment to decipher his handwriting. It wasn’t great, but once I looked at it a second, I could figure it out.
I read through the things he wanted first, and told him, “I’m good with your wants list and have no issues adding them to the contract.”
I read through the longer list and thought the fact he knew to make emotional sadism a hard limit was sad. I would absolutely respect it, but it made me sad to see it in writing. Technically, no scat and no a2m were kind of the same category, but I decided not to point that out. I enjoy being rimmed, but we’d leave that out of our temporary contract. I wasn’t likely to want him pierced until he was completely mine with a permanent contract, so there wouldn’t be anything for him to approve or veto in the short term. I’d already planned for the two of us to go through my playroom so he could point out anything that could trigger his allergies.
But the line about keeping him out of the public eye hit me in the gut. He was going to be wary of vacationing with me until we figured that out. We could work around it, probably, but it certainly made things difficult.
“If we’re both in disguise, would you still be opposed to going places with me?”
“I mean, if we’re in a two-million-dollar car, we’re going to draw attention, aren’t we?”
I missed hearing him call me Sir , but I’d been the one to tell him to stop until we had a contract. Those pale blue eyes were killing me, though. So earnest and sincere, so submissive, but the boy was speaking up for himself. He was being respectful even without the Sir , and that takes some skill in this kind of conversation.
“Yes, but we can put my security in the car, so we get out of a boring black SUV at hotels and restaurants. We drive the car between all the fun places, and then stop at a gas station and do a switcheroo while we’re getting gas. Hotel rooms have to be adjoining, so they can get to me if needed, and that means you can go in a different room and then cross over once inside.” I shrugged. “Or we can stay in a remote cabin.”
He looked really uncomfortable, and I reached across the table to put my hand on his. “Tell me your biggest fear around having the public know you’re my boyfriend.”
“I barely remember my parents. I guess a social worker came to check on me months after no one registered me for school, and took me with her right then because conditions were so bad. I know my dad is in prison for armed robbery and for shooting a cop. He didn’t kill him so he isn’t in for life, but he has another twenty-five years to go. My mom isn’t likely to live a whole lot longer, if she’s even alive now. Meth is hard on the body. I also have aunts and uncles and cousins, and grandparents I’ve never met. I just feel like the name Davy Jones is unusual for a real person to have, and I don’t want them in my life. I doubt any of them even remember I exist, but if they hear the name, they’re going to go looking, and I look a lot like my dad and his father. Only smaller, supposedly because of the malnourishment thing.”
I sat back and considered the best way to allay his fears. “Has anyone ever called you David?”
“A few teachers used it instead of Davy, but no one else.”
“If we need to make a statement about you, I’ll call you David Miller. Think of it as your stage name, though I don’t foresee ever having you on stage with me, so lose the deer-in-the-headlights look.” I wanted to chuckle but I held it in. He was genuinely afraid of what might happen if his low-life family of origin found out he had access to money and fame, and I’d do everything in my power to keep that from happening.
“I’ve gotten quite good at going places in disguise so I’m not spotted. I’d assumed you could go as yourself with me, but just to be safe, we’ll work on a simple disguise for you. I can’t promise no one will figure it out, but I can promise to do my best to keep that from happening. My security team is the best there is, and they have some tricks you’d never think of.”
“I love that you aren’t making promises you aren’t positive you can keep.” He took a breath. “I would love to go on a trip with you over the weekend, and if I work twelve or fourteen hours Thursday, I can probably get away between noon and two o’clock Friday, so we can get an early start.”
My heart settled in my chest, and I took a bite of chicken to disguise how happy his words made me. He trusted me, and he wanted to spend time with me. I chewed, swallowed, and said, “Okay, Good. I’m glad that’s settled. Start with the beginning of the contract, and let’s talk about it as you go.”
* * * *
Davy
The contract was simple and short. The rules were all general, like not sitting on furniture without permission, never being clothed in the house unless he handed me something to put on, telling him about any issues I had, like being cold or hot, hungry or thirsty, having a headache, etc.
When I read that part out loud, he said, “You understand the difference between notifying and whining?”
While I figured out how to word it, I guess he thought I didn’t know, so he said, “I don’t want to hear about your asshole being sore unless you think there’s something that might require medical attention either at that moment or in the future, or unless I’ve asked for an inventory. I’m going to assume various body parts are sore if I’ve been rough with them, but I won’t know when you’re thirsty or hungry, necessarily.”
I nodded, and he said, “Speaking of which, let’s do that now. Start with your feet and work up — tell me anything that isn’t at one hundred percent.”
“The backs of my legs and my ass are bruised. My asshole is sore. My dick and balls are okay, though I’m not sure how that’s possible. My nipples are sore. I keep rubbing my wrists, remembering how they felt in the cuffs. They’re fine, but they feel naked, and I want to call you Sir, but I know I’m not supposed to yet.”
“No, not yet. Your dick and balls should mostly be okay after a play session, but probably not after a maintenance session, and absolutely not if I choose to punish them because you’ve broken a rule or disobeyed an order.”
“Oh, I guess I should have written down that I want to experience a maintenance session during our temporary contract period. I don’t know if you’d planned for that, but I’d like to have an idea of what your boot camp will be, and what to expect for the weekly or monthly session, or however often you feel it’s necessary.”
“That isn’t a discussion for today, but I’m in total agreement with your point about maintenance, and we’ll add it.” He motioned towards the phone. “Keep going.”
He had me use the stylus to highlight sections we wanted to reword or change, and he asked for a pen early on, so he could make notes on the back of the small sheet of paper I’d written my list on.
Partway through, as I was transitioning from one page to another, he said, “Stop. I’ve already told you I’m looking for a poly group, but it feels important to remind you that, whether we end up a V or a triad, agreeing to this contract means you’ll understand I’m going to be looking for our third. She might be submissive, she might be a switch, or a Domme, or she might just be my partner. I needed one slave in my life, and that opens things up a little when choosing a woman who’ll fit into our lives.”
My heart stuttered and dropped to my stomach, and I looked at my hands because I wasn’t sure what to say or do. He’d told me, but I’d forgotten, and having him remind me was a little bit like a slap to the face, or possibly a gut punch.
And then visions of my first Master sharing me and loaning me out came rushing into my mind, and then of Bubbles making a deal that meant someone else got to fuck my ass and mouth every day for a week. Once, the deal was that two of them got to use me at the same time, every day in the shower until the end of the month, and it was only the sixth of March. That’d bought him a smart phone, and he’d offered to let me use it, but I didn’t have anyone to talk to. I couldn’t imagine calling my Master out of the blue, just to talk.
But Will was different. I wouldn’t feel awkward calling him to talk, if one of us was out of town. The bottom line was that I wanted to be someone’s property. I wanted to belong to them. That meant I didn’t get a say in this kind of thing. If my owner wanted a poly group, it would be up to his slave to conform.
“I think this means the contract we come up with after this one,” I told him, “the one we’ve been calling a permanent contract, will need to be a semi-permanent one. It seems to me there will need to be some major changes to the contract once our third joins us, depending upon the flavor of the energy she brings into the relationship.” I met his gaze. “I’ll have to trust that whoever you pick will work for both of us, even if it’s a V, Master.”
He grinned. “If she’s a bitch to you then she won’t be the right woman for me. The two of you will have to like each other enough to live together and enjoy each other’s company. We’ll be a family. The terminology is kitchen-table-poly, and when you combine that with the fact my band members are also frequently at the kitchen table, it means I have to be super careful about my choices.”
The next page talked about the fact I was monogamous with him, and he’d stop fucking and playing with men, but he’d continue to fuck women. He’d use condoms and he’d be safe, but women weren’t off the table. This also meant he and I would continue to use condoms, at least until we added our third.
Deep down, I wanted him to be mine and only mine, but that didn’t mesh with the fact I wanted a Master who owned me, so I only had some minor changes to this section, including the fact I didn’t need to hear about any women he was with unless he thought someone might be the one , and then I needed to hear about her from the start.
He agreed he’d let me know when he thought he might have found her, but he wasn’t promising to tell me any details unless he thought it was beneficial to do so.
We’d long-since finished our meal and dessert when I got to the end, and he helped me clean up while he explained what would happen next.
“I’m going to give you some exercises to do while I rewrite the contract. We finished eating nearly an hour ago so your food should’ve settled, and I need to know your limits. You’ll do as many reps of each as you can, and then you’ll do even more, until your muscles completely fail and you have no choice but to stop. This should be long after the muscles hurt, do you understand?”
“I do, and it’s hard not to call you Sir for this.”
“Once we’ve agreed on the contract, Davy.”
I nodded instead of saying something verbally because it felt wrong not to acknowledge our relationship when I answered him.
“Put some shorts on while I use the bathroom. I’ll meet you back in your living room.”
It isn’t like there are rooms in my house. It’s more like a kitchen area and a living area, but I didn’t correct him. I had to move the chair I’d sat in and then squeeze tight to get up the ladder without lifting the table back to the wall, but he said he was going to redo the contract on his laptop, so I assumed he’d need the table.
When I came back downstairs, he was sure enough sitting at the table with his laptop, and I saw him take note of how I had to maneuver to get past the table, but he didn’t comment on it.
“Show me your version of a crunch.”
I’d bought this old-fashioned braided oval rug at a second-hand shop, and I was happy for its thickness when I settled on it and started doing crunches.
“Cross your arms, touch your shoulders, and go slower. Hold the crunch for a count of slow three or fast six, and then down and back up.”
He coached me through the way he wanted me to do it, and then said, “Okay, show me your push-ups.”
He didn’t have much to critique on them, thank goodness, and he said, “Now show me a plank.”
Going from push-up to plank is pretty easy, and I must’ve done it right because he said, “Excellent. Do crunches to failure, make a note of how many, and then run sprints back and forth to your mailbox, out and back five times should be about a quarter mile. Then do push-ups to failure, note how many, sprints back and forth to your mailbox again, and then use your phone to time your plank — stopwatch mode, counting up. No rests between anything. Do you have something you can write your numbers on?”
“I can make notes on my phone.”
He nodded and focused on the laptop, which told me it was time for me to get started with my crunches.