Chapter 27
Chapter 27
Davy
Master washed me all over with a big fluffy poof, though he was careful to keep it away from my dick, and he held me and kissed me and told me he loved me.
“If you’d been allowed an orgasm, would you’ve been able to?”
“I barely held onto it a few times, Master. I only managed because I knew how embarrassed you’d be if your slave couldn’t maintain control.”
“Oh yeah, that would’ve been bad. You’ve been trained well enough to keep from coming without permission.”
“I have, Master, but it was still a close call.”
He kissed my forehead. “I’m glad it was good for you.” He shrugged. “It’ll keep happening whether it is or not, but I think it’s better that it does it for you. I might even allow an orgasm next time. Or not.”
Master put the big stainless contraption back on my dick, and then we cuddled on the sofa and talked for a while.
I got a little excited when Master had me stand so he could take the thing off my dick, but he said, “It’s time for those tears, sweetheart. Stand a few feet away from the dining table and bend over so your hands are on it but your torso isn’t touching anything. Make adjustments as necessary so your back is arched and your ass in the air, legs spread. You know how I want you.”
“Any chance I can change my mind about needing tears, Master?”
“Nope.”
I was already moving when I asked the question because I know better than to hesitate when given an order. I knew I’d regret it if this didn’t happen, but while I got into position, I was regretting the fact I’d basically asked for it.
Master used his belt for a long, long time, and didn’t stop until far past when the tears started to flow.
Slap after slap. Strike after strike. Leather on skin. Over and over. The heat built and built and built, magnifying exponentially, and still, Master didn’t relent.
It wasn’t anything like punishment or maintenance, he didn’t hit me especially hard until right before the end, but he found a rhythm, striking over and over and over.
Cathartic . That’s the word. I needed the tears and the pain, the assurance he’s still my Master, and he gave it to me.
And yeah, being shared with another man should’ve hammered that point home, but the belt did it in a way nothing else could’ve.
The sex afterward was almost tender, at first — until it wasn’t, but that was perfect, too.
We connected, soul-to-soul, and that made everything that came before totally worth it.
And his orgasm was enough. I could suffer for my Master so long as he found pleasure with me.
The rest of the weekend, I saw Master here and there, but other than sleeping at night, we didn’t have a whole lot more alone time. He fucked me a lot, a whole bunch of quickies, and he shared me with someone I hadn’t met before, who I think maybe was someone local. It wasn’t a double-team, just a “Damn, you’re in a bad mood. I can offer my slave’s services for a blowjob if it’ll help.”
The dude had unzipped his pants, and Master had tossed me a condom and motioned me to the other man. He was sitting on a chair, so I kneeled in front of him, rolled the condom on, and blew him using all the tricks I’ve learned over the years. I got him off within about five minutes despite the condom.
I noted Master never used my name in front of this man, and he sent me to the corner after I blew him and disposed of the condom.
I ended up on the other side of the dining table from them, since the nearest trash can was in the little kitchenette area, and I went to the closest corner after tossing the condom. I guess the man thought I’d come back into their area to get into a corner, so as soon as he saw I was staying on the other side of the room, he asked, “How long have you been a slave, boy?”
Thankfully, Master answered right away so I didn’t have to. “He can’t talk while he’s in the corner. Pretend he’s been sent away.”
Master brought them back on topic, about a song he was trying to buy the rights to, and the guy eventually said he’d take the offer to his client. It didn’t sound like his client was going to agree to it, but it was clear Master wasn’t going to give more.
When the door closed behind him, Master said, “You can come out of the corner, Davy. Thanks for doing such a good job with him. Get us some beer out of the fridge, yeah?”
He had the beer I prefer as well as his favorite, and I got one of each and brought them to the living area.
“I’m glad I could be of service, Sir.”
“No, I don’t think you are, but that’s okay. I appreciate the sentiment.”
“Is everything okay, Master?”
He shrugged. “Have a seat beside me. I’m going to miss you when you’re gone. I’ve spent every minute with you I could, but it doesn’t seem like enough.”
“I love you, Master. I knew you’d have a tight schedule, but that’s okay. I love that we could make this work, and I look forward to seeing you again in about six weeks.”
He took my ass eight more times over the next twenty-four hours, and fucked my face twice. I was well-fucked and incredibly sore when I stepped onto the plane the following day, and Heather’s grin told me she could see it written all over my face.
“So, it was a good long weekend?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
“Will tells me he’s still looking for your third?”
I shrugged noncommittally. Will told me she’s their favorite pilot, but I didn’t know if that included talking about personal shit.
“I remember when Marcus was looking for our fourth, and I couldn’t imagine how it would work with four people living in one house, having sex together. It didn’t work at all with a few women he brought home, but then…” She shrugged. “He brought the women destined to be our fourth home, and I liked her from the start. She fits so perfectly, I can’t imagine her not being around. I have a best gal-pal living with me, and over time, I guess I’ve fallen in love with her.”
I didn’t say anything, and she said, “I’m kind of a rare animal — a dominant masochist.”
I looked at her all goggle-eyed. “How does that even work? You order someone to hurt you?”
She chuckled. “I’m Domme to one of my boyfriends, and my other boyfriend ties me up and hurts me. He Tops me, doesn’t Dom me, but he’s a true sadist so he fully enjoys hurting me. Turns out, our fourth is a slave, not just a submissive, and she serves both me and Marcus. I’ve had to learn how to deal with a slave rather than a submissive, but we have it all figured out now, I think.”
“I trust Will to find someone who’ll fit into our life, but yeah, it’s hard to imagine having a girl live with us.”
She chuckled. “I never thought I’d have romantic interests for a girl, or enjoy sex with one, but it turns out, I guess I’m bisexual if it’s the right girl.”
“Yeah, I don’t think I am, but…” I shrugged. It wasn’t my call.
“Oh, I get it. Just figured I’d tell you a little of my story. The rest of my foursome will be waiting at the airport when we arrive. We’re headed to Myrtle Beach for a few days, and it’s good to be able to fly instead of drive.”
We talked about her guys a little, one’s a psychiatrist and the other’s a plastic surgeon. Turns out, she flies the bikers some, too. She’d flown them all to Vegas when Matty raced out there, and then flown them back home the following week.
“I’m going with them to Atlanta in a few months,” I told her. “I’m pretty excited about it.”
It was weird, being close friends with a motorcycle racing celebrity, and dating a rock star, but somehow, this has become my life.