Chapter 20
Chapter 20
Davy
I’ve never been to a spa that caters to rich people before. They handed us sparkling water when we walked into the lobby to check in, someone took our bags from us, someone else walked us to our room and had us put our thumbs on the pad while he did something with his phone, and then a green light beeped, meaning we were programmed in to open our door, I supposed. When we walked in, our bags were already set up on stands, waiting to be opened.
And we hadn’t flown commercial. We were in a fancy jet. Not a big one, but the six seats in it were huge and comfy and laid all the way down. I know this because Master fucked me for about two hours of our four-hour flight, and then had me blow him for the last thirty minutes.
“A few instructions.” He said once the door to our room closed behind us, and he blew out a breath. “Look at me, Davy.”
I looked at him, and he said, “You’ll probably see people you recognize. Movie stars, musicians, supermodels. Everyone’ll be either naked or barely clothed. You don’t stare. You don’t talk to them like you know them. I’m not telling you to remain silent, but you can only join the conversation if you can contribute to it without sounding like a fanboy. This is a place where people like me go to escape people who fawn over us, do you understand?”
I nodded. “If someone’s girlfriend goes all gaga over Lord Byron when you walk in the room, it’ll be awkward, Master. You wouldn’t be able to enjoy the facilities around her.”
Sir nodded and seemed to relax a little. “Say my name, boy.”
“Will, Sir. You’re Will.”
“I am. If you need to get my attention, use it. No Sir or Master, and I know you’re smart enough to know that, but I know you also like for me to be clear on expectations.”
“I do, Sir. Thank you.”
We spent three marvelous days being catered to and pampered, and eating the most fantastic food ever . So many flavors in every bite, I wasn’t sure I could ever appreciate normal food again.
I mean, Master made me work out with him, and run with him, so I was beyond exhausted a good portion of the day, but then there’d be time in the sauna, then a massage. One day we got these all-over exfoliating scrubs, and another day we soaked in this vat of mud. When our time ended and we had to leave, my skin was softer than I could ever remember it being. Master’s too — like a baby’s butt, though I haven’t held a baby since I was in a foster home.
And Master hadn’t been wrong about seeing famous people, but I withheld my squealing and fanboying until we were back in our room.
“I know you said you’d rather wait to talk about it,” I told him during the ride back to the airport. “But why could we come here, but not to the other spas you like?”
“My favorite spa in Iceland is expensive, which means everyone’s rich, but not necessarily famous — though you occasionally see someone you know. There are hundreds there at a time, and you eat and swim and sauna with whoever shows up while you’re there. No one we saw here is going to spill the beans that I have a boyfriend no one knows about and his name is Davy, but we can’t go to most of the places I enjoy and keep you secret.” He touched my hand. “No pressure, Davy. I didn’t write that to change your mind, but so you can make an informed decision.”
That was clear in the letter. It was my decision, he was just giving me some data so I make an informed decision.
“I understand, Master. Thank you.”
* * * *
Will
My people had to pay extra and make a few phone calls to get Davy’s passport processed quickly, but watching him in Paris, Italy, and then the Isle of Capri made me the happiest man on earth.
On the yacht ride to Capri, I gave him everything he’d need to deal with the hotel, and told him he was going to be my assistant and take care of everything for me. “You’ve watched me deal with people at every location. You’re smart. You can handle it.”
If he was going to hold down a job then he could never truly be my assistant or even take on the duties of house manager, but I intended to hand some more responsibilities to him, and to delineate them in our new contract.
It meant he’d have a charge card for my account in his name, and he’d be responsible for letting my people know what I wanted and needed. Some things, he could just call my business guy and say, “Will needs you to do such and such,” or call Kyleigh and tell her where we were going and what I wanted to happen while we were there. Other things, I’d expect him to handle without getting them involved, like ordering food, or telling the cleaning staff they didn’t do a good enough job last time.
One of the bikers had told me Davy needed a keeper, and it’d bothered me a little then, but the more I’ve gotten to know him, the more it’s bugged me. I completely understand what they were saying, but he’s a grown man.
In a relationship, even a Master/slave relationship, you take care of each other.
So, I determined that people were going to see Davy as much my keeper as they saw me as his.
Because the truth is, I pay a whole lot of people to keep my life going — a business manager for my company, a business manager for my private life, a house manager, a producer and director, a travel person — and that doesn’t even consider all the specialty people like the lawn service, the pool guy, and the tiny little lady who cleans my gutters every year. Sure, my house manager deals with them, but I still see them around the house, taking care of stuff I guess most people handle themselves.
And that reminded me that I’d meant to change the way he referred to his former Masters. I’d never heard the first guy’s name, and I wasn’t going to demand he tell me because there were clearly a lot of legal issues there, but I wanted him to begin referring to him by either his first name or a nickname. Bubbles was a little complicated, so I was going to suggest he refer to him as Bee, if Davy didn’t have a better solution.
But I’d let him deal with the hotel before I added more stress onto him.
He surprised me, though, because he dealt with the driver before I had a chance to, and when we got to the hotel, he stepped forward and acted like he was in control, handling the affairs for his rich boss.
As soon as we were alone in our hotel room, I pressed him against the wall and kissed him like I was starving and he was the first sustenance I’d had in days. I guess being in charge had taken hold, because he stripped me out of my shirt before he took his off, and then it was a mad dash for us to disrobe. The great thing about having a naked slave is that you just unzip, bend them over, and fuck them.
So the frantic clearing-of-the-clothes was kind of new, and then I had Davy on his back on the bed while I scrambled for a condom, removed the skinny-necked three-pound plug, and finally forced my dick into his oh-so-tight ass that he’d been squeezing closed to hold the heavy plug in for better than six hours.
I pinched his nipples one at a time but it wasn’t enough, so I sat up enough I could get to his balls while I fucked him, and gave a quick warning before I squeezed. “Silent pain, slave.”
I squeezed and held for a slow count of twelve, and his ass spasmed and squeezed oh-so-deliciously around my cock. Tears formed in his eyes but didn’t fall out of the sides until I slowly released his balls.
“Good boy.”
And then I leaned forward, braced, and fucked him fast and hard until I emptied my balls into the condom.
Damn, but I looked forward to the day when we could fluid bond, but that wasn’t going to happen while I was still fucking women, looking for our third.
I rolled so I collapsed beside him, facing up, and he took a few minutes to breathe before he sat up and dealt with the condom on my dick.
“You did exceptionally well with the driver, concierge, and then tipping the bellhops.”
“Thank you, Master. I enjoyed doing it for you.”
“And then taking my shirt off?”
“I’m sorry if I overstepped, Master.”
He got off the bed to put the condom in a trash receptacle in the bathroom, and I told him, “It caught me off guard, but you weren’t wrong about me wanting it off. Just know, if you choose to do it again, it’s kind of a thin ice area. If you get it right it’s fine, but get it wrong and you’ll pay for it.”
He returned while I was talking and stopped beside the bed. When I finished my sentence, he gave a short nod and said, “Permission to get back on the bed, Master?”
“Denied. Get the lube from the sex kit and bring it to me, then you have permission to bend over the bed so I can put the plug back in.” I looked at my smartwatch. “We have reservations in about an hour, and it’s a thirty-minute stroll, but we can take a little longer and enjoy the view on the way. Also, I’m down to fifteen percent on my watch.” I took it off. “Put this one on the charger and hand me the black one with the analog dial.”
Okay, so yeah. I have three smartwatches — one silver and two black or graphite or whatever they’re calling it this year. I have a face with tons of information on the silver and one of the black, but the other black one looks like a diver’s watch with a main dial for the time and then four smaller dials, only they show me things like temperature and steps, rather than diver stuff. At a glance, it doesn’t look like a smartwatch, though.
And I’ve set it so the big dial is always the local time, while one of the small dials shows me the time in Chattanooga. Comes in handy on tour and on vacation.
* * * *
Davy
Master uses his regular name when in disguise, and I told the ma?tre d’, “Reservations for Bryant,” when we stepped in the door. He asked if we wanted something on the patio or inside, and I told him, “The reservations were for inside at a window.”
He looked back down, nodded, and told someone a number, which I assumed was a table number.
We were walked to a table set for two right beside a window with a fantastic view of the ocean, and I waited for Master to sit and then motion for me to take my seat.
“I’ll order for us, Davy. That’s still my job.”
“Of course, Sir.”
Sometimes, Master has me look over the menu and tell him what looks good to me, other times he just orders for me, which is fine because he knows what I like and don’t like. Today, he ordered for me, all kinds of seafood and words I’d have had to look up.
“Thank you, Sir,” I told him when the waiter left.
“You’re welcome. In a proper relationship, everyone takes care of each other.” He looked at me a few seconds and I knew before he spoke, I wasn’t going to like what he said next. “You always refer to your exes as your first and second Master. For a variety of reasons, I don’t feel this is healthy. Without giving me enough information I can figure out who your first master was, please either give me his first name, or a nickname, if his first name isn’t terribly common.”
I stared at him a few seconds. I’d said my first Master’s name one time and he’d beaten me so badly I’d needed medical attention from the retired doctor he kept on retainer. I’d never even considered saying it again, but the idea of calling him by his name now seemed empowering. “Carlos, master. It’s a common name, but I assumed you’d had someone do a background check on me and you already knew who he is.”
Master shook his head. “I knew Drake Security would do one on you as part of their general threat assessment, both to make sure I didn’t need to be protected from you, and to get an idea of who might want to harm you. I trust Panda enough, I told him if there was something I needed to know to please share it with me. Otherwise, I wanted to get to know you organically.”
I just stared him, unsure of what to say. After a few moments, Master said, “In the interests of privacy, I’d like you to call your next Master by a nickname. Does Bee work for you?”
“We could stick with first names and call him Adam, Master. I was never allowed to use those names, so I guess it’s kind of a little empowering?”
“Okay then. Adam and Carlos.” He lowered his voice so I kind of had to read his lips to understand the next part. “I’m the only man you call Master from this point forward.”
I smiled and spoke as low as he had. “Absolutely, Master.”
And then Master stunned me, but in a good way, beyond my wildest hope. “I love you, Davy Jones.”
“I love you too, Will Bryant.”
Master looked at me a few seconds and then raised his hand towards a waiter and told him, “A bottle of 2004 Chateau d’Yquem Sauternes, please.”
Master looked to me when the waiter nodded. “Since you seem to only like dessert wines, this should be a special treat for both of us.”
“Thank you, Master.”
The first time he’d ordered wine for us in an expensive restaurant I’d taken a sip and handed it to him. It’d been so awful , something behind my back teeth had gone all sharp and stabby. Master hadn’t been pleased because it’d apparently been, like, thousands of dollars for the bottle, but then he’d ordered three glasses of three kinds of wine, and the one I’d liked made him laugh.
Master had bought a bottle of wine at a liquor store, and he’d said I should be belted for making him buy wine with a screw on top instead of a cork, but then he’d laughed when I’d thought it was the best wine he’d given me yet.
So, I assumed this was going to be an expensive wine I’d like, but it was clear instead of red, and so far, I’d mostly only liked red wines.
But then I took a drink and nearly swooned at the explosion of grapes and other flavors. It was the best wine I’d had yet, and I told Master so.
“It should be. Comes from special grapes only grown in France, affected by a fungus, I think, that practically turns the grapes into raisins, which means it takes that many more of them to make the wine, and the flavor is more concentrated. This’ll be a special occasion drink, though I may see about getting a case of it sent to the house from a different year. This particular vintage is known as their best.”
“It’s beyond good, Sir. Thank you.”
“I love you and you love me. The moment needs celebrating.”
“In the movies, they say stuff like you’re my everything , but I think that would be dangerous, Mas…” I kept going, hoping no one heard my almost-goof. “I wouldn’t want to be your everything because…” I shrugged. “This isn’t coming out right. The point is, I’m looking forward to redoing the contract because life means more with you in it. When I first moved into the tiny house, I wasn’t working much and it took effort to find things to do to fill my day, but then work picked up and I found my equilibrium. I enjoyed living alone, enjoyed going home and reading a book or watching stupid videos online.”
Wow, was I getting off track. “The point is, now I hate going home. I miss you. I miss being around your things.”
“I miss you when I send you home,” he said, “but it’s important we do this with intention. Either we live together or we don’t, and if we don’t, then by definition that means we spend time in our respective homes and away from each other at least a couple of nights a week.”
“I can’t argue your logic, but I still hate going home. It wouldn’t be entirely wrong for me to say you’re my everything, because emotionally you are, but I have other responsibilities — work, friends, and probably some things I’m not thinking of.”
“My life is beyond full, and yet, I’ve craved having someone to share it with. Thank you for being that person, Davy.”
“And thank you for inviting me into your life,” I lowered my voice, “Master.”
When we finished dinner, Master walked me down to the beach, where we took our sandals off and walked on the sand, and eventually walked into the water and let the waves hit our shins.
“It’s paradise, Master.”
“I’ve considered buying a beach home, but my business manager convinced me it’s better to rent a house when I want to visit, rather than dealing with hurricanes and the specialized insurance for them, and all the other issues around beachfront living.”
“I’ve never considered what I might want to buy if money was no object.” I thought about it a few seconds. “When I was younger, I wanted to be a pilot, but I couldn’t afford lessons and didn’t want to join the military. I don’t think I want to be one anymore, though.”
“You know enough about cars, I assume you have one you’d buy if you had the money. You knew how much the McLaren cost without having to look it up. Lots of people don’t even know the name of the brand, much less which model they’re looking at or the cost.”
“I work in the auto industry now, and I’m with car and motorcycle guys all day long, Master. There were lots of conversations when information first started leaking out about the W1, and lots of comparisons to the F1 and P1. If money was no object, I’m not sure what car I’d want, but I’m pretty sure it’d be less than a hundred grand or only slightly more. Maybe an Audi or Maserati. I think the Trofeos are probably more than I’d be comfortable driving around, but I could buy a used one and be comfortable with the price, I think.”
I looked up at Master. “I don’t really want one of those, though. Gonzo has a Nissan Maxima that kicks ass. I like the Altimas, too. That’s more my speed, I think.” My ancient little Civic got me around and was dependable. I’d thought it was fine, but now that I’d driven true performance vehicles, I guess I knew what I was missing, when I didn’t, before. Still, it got me back and forth to work when the weather didn’t work with the bike.
“And a house?” he asked. “Would you be on the river or on a mountain? Or maybe deep in the woods? Or perhaps you’d want to be in a neighborhood somewhere?”
I shrugged. “Your house is kind of perfect, Master. On the ridge, so it’s high up without having to drive up and down a mountain, and just a few minutes away from downtown. I like the river, and thought about how nice it might be to have that view every day while you were doing your music video, but wherever you are is where I’m happiest.”
“I have a house on the river, but I haven’t been to it since you came into my life, so I’ve been considering selling it. You’d have a long drive back and forth to work — nearly an hour. That’s two hours a day I wouldn’t get to see you.”
“We could spend time there on the weekends, Master.”
“A valid point, and I have a boat in a boathouse. We should make a trip up there and go out on the river before I decide whether or not to sell. If we like the boat I can put it in a marina somewhere close to downtown.”