“Relationship?” He shook his head. “No, this is just me showing her the ropes.”
Sam raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure she knows this? I certainly get the idea, from the way you’re talking, that you’re beginning something emotional.”
He looked down a few seconds, afraid she was right and unsure how to stop it. “Okay, maybe,” he admitted. “I don’t know what it is but I’m not planning on a relationship.”
“Not planning on it, but if it happens, will you let it?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I need time to think.”
“I’ve never seen you this serious, so at least I know you’re thinking about it. The big thing is to be open and honest with Cassie, though. Right? You need to tell her about yourself, too.”
He rolled his eyes and said, “Yeah yeah.” He shook his head, leaned forward. “She asked if she could watch me with Cam. I told her I’d have to think about it. Do you think she’ll freak if she sees us in action?”
“Are you worried about her freaking because of the guy-on-guy action, or because of the BDSM parts?”
He thought about it a few seconds. “Both?”
“I don’t think you have to worry about the first. She’s been around her dad and his partner a lot. In fact, she has this idea gay partners are more likely to stay together than straight, married people.”
Frisco considered her statement a few seconds, and his heart dropped as he understood what Sam was saying. “Because her mom’s on her third marriage, and her dad is still with the man he left his family for.”
Sam nodded and Frisco wiped his hand across his face to try to hide his dismay. “I don’t want to get caught up in someone’s neurosis.”
“You’ll have to deal with history and baggage no matter who you end up with. It’s part of forming a relationship with someone. What are Cameron’s triggers?”
“His stepdad used to lock him in a closet in total darkness — not even any light around the doorframe. He’s fine in a cage with a nightlight, but he can’t be put somewhere there isn’t light, and can’t be blindfolded.” Which had made putting Cassie in a makeshift blindfold last night a bit of a treat, but he didn’t tell Sam that part.
“Have you ever taken on someone to train who didn’t have at least one thing you had to sidestep and work around?” Sam asked.
He thought a few moments, opened his mouth to say yes when he finally landed on someone without issues, but then remembered the submissive’s major meltdown when faced with a lit candle during wax play because of an unfortunate incident with a campfire when the boy was six.
Someone else sprang to mind, but he remembered how hard the two of them had worked before the boy could bear to clean cobwebs with a broom, his fear of spiders had been so bad.
And then there was the slave who learned beautifully, but Frisco eventually figured out the pet was looking for an Owner to keep him so he’d never need to get a real job.
“No,” Frisco admitted.
Chapter Eight
Frisco went home and climbed into bed.
Cam was at school, and was scheduled to work in the restaurant this afternoon before coming home.
Frisco texted Cam he was home and going to sleep, and not to disturb him unless there was an emergency. He set his phone so only today’s manager at the restaurant and Cam’s calls and texts would come through, and crashed.
He awoke feeling as if he’d been drugged. He sat up, looked around, and noted a bottle of water on his nightstand. He smiled, knowing Cam had put it there for him, and drank half of it in one long swig.
The clock said it was nearly five in the morning, and he stood to go to the bathroom. Some movement caught his eye and he turned his head to see Cam curled up on his floor cushion.
The boy was supposed to sleep in his own room unless he was invited to sleep in here, but Frisco wouldn’t be too hard on him. Or rather, he’d listen to his reason for staying. It was likely out of concern, as he wouldn’t know if Frisco was sick or feeling bad, and would want to be near in case he was needed.
Frisco used the bathroom and then opened his tablet to check Cam’s schedule. A quick glance told him the young man had a test at ten o’clock, but nothing before. Frisco would let him sleep a while longer.
He logged in to the University with Cam’s credentials and looked at his grades. He’d made a ninety-seven on the huge project he’d been so worried about, and Frisco smiled. Everything else looked good, too, and Frisco logged off.
Part of their contract said Cam’s education came first, and as such, Frisco would have access to his grades and assignments, and would be kept up to date on his schedule. Cam had a tendency to do enough to make a high B or low A, though he was capable of making high A’s if he put in a little more effort. Frisco insisted he put in the extra effort.
Frisco’s house was large but didn’t have many rooms. He closed the bedroom door as he headed to the kitchen, because while he’d be a good distance from the bedroom, there were no other doors.
He cooked when he was troubled, and he started pulling things from the refrigerator and composing a huge breakfast in his head.
He started with the bacon, and put it in a warmer when it was ready.
The bacon grease went into some flour to make biscuit dough, and when the biscuits went into the oven he pulled onions, chives, mushrooms, cheese, and spinach from the refrigerator.
He hadn’t worked too fast, so it was nearly six by the time he was ready to start the omelets. Cam’s alarm had been set for six, and he didn’t want to make them too early.
He’d saved some bacon grease, and now he browned some flour in preparation for gravy.
Cam’s alarm sounded as the gravy was ready. Frisco checked the biscuits, smiled at their golden brown goodness, pulled them from the oven, and dumped them in a bowl.
“What’s wrong?” Cam asked as he stumbled to the kitchen wearing only his chastity device, with the cock trapped inside bulging out between the steel prison where it could. “I went to bed early so I could get up with you if you needed something. I was worried you were sick, but you’re cooking. What’s wrong?”
Because Cam worked at the restaurant and was occasionally around when Frisco’s sisters showed up at the house, he was only to call Frisco Master or Sir in the bedroom, playroom, or while in the midst of a scene.
Just because the boy knew Frisco cooked when something was wrong didn’t mean he had to tell his slave what was bothering him.
“Do you want the usual in your omelet, slave?”
Frisco could call Cam whatever the hell he wanted, whenever the hell he wanted. Well, as long as the boy didn’t have friends over. Which he didn’t very often, but occasionally hosted study groups in his apartment.
“I do, and I wish I could call you Master right now. You seem to need to hear it.”
Frisco shook his head and went back to chopping and dicing. “You may use the restroom.”
Cam wasn’t allowed to go without permission when Frisco was home, and while he hadn’t asked, Frisco knew the boy would need to go and likely hadn’t asked because he was worried and wanted to make sure his Master was okay.
Cam thanked him, went to the bathroom, returned with his cock not quite as painful looking through the jailbird, and washed his hands.
Without being told, the boy poured the gravy into a serving bowl and put it, along with the biscuits and bacon, on the table. He poured drinks and asked, “Will I be eating at the table, Frisco?”
At this, Frisco turned to look at his charge. “Yes. I looked through your grades this morning and you deserve some special attention, but it’s going to have to wait until I’m back to myself. I didn’t drink last night, or the night before, but I sure feel hung over.”
Cam set two table settings as Frisco asked how Cam’s day had been for the past two days.
Frisco didn’t offer an explanation of where he’d been or what he’d been doing. He felt obligated to keep Cam from worrying if
he didn’t come home when expected, but otherwise, he didn’t owe him any explanations.
“I saw the ninety-seven on your project. Good job, but why did he mark off three points?”
“Oh!” Cam said, obviously excited. “I got the highest score! And, this was one of those projects designed to showcase our talents. He posts the raw images we started with, and what we did with them. No names are associated with them online, but if someone wants to hire us to do a job, they can let the professor know, and he’ll let us know. My piece will be shown first online since it was given the highest score!”
Frisco smiled. “Congratulations! I’m pleased. There’s a reason for doing your best and not just what you can to get by, yes?”
“Yes, Frisco, and if you hadn’t pushed me I may not have worked so hard. Thank you.”
When Frisco finished breakfast he stood and told Cam, “You get to do the dishes. Pack up what you want for lunch and put the rest in the fridge for later.” He looked at the clock. “Are you pushed for time? Do you need to study before your test?”
Cam shook his head. “I studied last night while you slept. I’m all yours.”
“Come find me when you finish in here. I’m heading to the shower, not sure if I’ll still be there.”
* * * *
Frisco set the showerhead to pulse, turned around, and let it beat on his shoulders and neck.
In the past he’d tried to take on bisexual submissives — not because he intended to play with women around them, but because he didn’t want them to look down their nose at him when he dated women.
Cam was gay, not bi, but didn’t have the rank disgust so many gay men had towards getting mushy with girls. In his words, “I’m a little attracted to them until I try to kiss them or something, and then it all goes away. The idea of sex isn’t awful, but the reality just never worked.”
Frisco had been intrigued by the young man, and worked with him a few weeks to be sure it was a good fit before offering him a one-year training contract.
The contract stipulated Frisco could share him with others, but would assure his safety, wouldn’t leave him alone with anyone unless Cam had agreed to it outside of a scene, and would be sure safe sex protocols were followed.
Frisco could bring Cassie in, let her watch and even participate. But did he want to?
His brain didn’t, but his cock did.
And his curiosity.
When Cam joined him in the shower Frisco didn’t move, merely asked, “I trust you lubed before you came in?”
“Of course, Master.”
He and Cam had both been tested, and both used safe sex practices when with other people. Frisco didn’t use condoms when he fucked his slave.
Cam turned around, put his hands on the tile shower bench, arched his back, and spread his legs. Frisco turned, lined up, and pressed into his slave’s ass.
Cam grunted as he was spread, and Frisco groaned in bliss.
“I’m going to hurt you this morning, but I need to do this first.”
“Whatever you need, Master.”
Frisco grabbed his slave’s hips and thrust harder, “Damn straight, whatever I fucking need.”
He fucked him for a while, realized he didn’t want to come yet, and shut the water off.
“Go to the playroom and stand over the drain. Don’t dry off. I’ll be down in a minute.”
* * * *
There were three ways into the playroom, one of which was a circular staircase accessed through Frisco’s walk-in closet.
Cam walked down the steps with the knowledge of how much more impact play hurt on wet skin than dry.
His ass felt thoroughly fucked, his cock was as hard as the jailbird allowed, and he wasn’t guaranteed an orgasm any time they played. His grades had been good, so there was a decent chance he’d get one, but it wasn’t a sure thing.
Frisco’s dungeon wasn’t fancy. Unpainted cinder block walls, concrete floor slightly angled to the floor drain, and equipment mostly made from steel pipes.
Three pulley mechanisms hung from the ceiling — all with loud, noisy chains. A large washroom sink and a hose faucet were on one side of the room. Frisco didn’t hesitate to use the hose sprayer to clean up — whether it was spunk on the floor, slave puke after being gagged, or an unruly submissive who needed to be punished with icy cold water. The sprayer on the hose dialed from a spring shower to a narrow stream that Cam was certain could be used as a pressure washer. He’d had his balls nailed with it more than once and it wasn’t fun.
The floggers, whips, paddles, and other assorted tools were stored on the same wall to help assure they didn’t get hosed down as well.
Frisco’s playroom wasn’t huge, but it was efficient, and utilitarian, and scary.
Cam stood over the drain, laced his fingers behind his head, spread his legs, settled into good posture, and waited.
In the evening he might be here five minutes or two hours. In the morning? Probably not long. Especially since he was going to have to deal with impact play on wet skin.
Sure enough, Frisco looked as if he’d only taken the time to towel dry his hair and dry his body when he came down the steps. He had his keys in his hand, and Cam hoped it meant his cock was about to see some freedom. He hadn’t orgasmed in four days, and the cock cage not only kept him from getting fully erect, it made it painful to try.
“Who owns your cock?”
“You do, Master.”
“And your orgasms?”
“Aren’t to be taken for granted. You decide when I feel pleasure or pain.”
Frisco nodded. “I’m proud of you for the ninety-seven. I can’t give you a reward session this morning, so I’ll let you know ahead of time I intend to allow an orgasm at the end.”
Cam was floored; Frisco never let him know ahead of time. Sometimes he was held on the edge for-fucking-ever and then wasn’t allowed, and if he couldn’t go soft in a few minutes, was iced until it would fit in the cage. To know throughout the scene he would be allowed release was truly a gift, and his cock pulsed in its stainless steel cage at the thought.
“Thank you, Master.”
Frisco walked to the wall and worked the pulleys to let the bar at the ceiling down. The chains were loud, and Cam’s cock fruitlessly tried to swell to life again.
Wrist cuffs dangled from the ends of the spreader bar, and Frisco fastened them with efficiency. He worked the pulley until Cam nearly had to stand on tiptoe, and locked it in place.
He leaned down, unlocked the jailbird, and removed it. He gave Cam’s cock a cursory inspection before standing to fondle his own cock a few seconds as he watched Cam’s fill until it stood proud.
He looked at it a few more seconds, considering, and finally said, “I’m going to help keep you out of trouble.”
Oh, thank goodness. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Master.”
His Master walked to the side of the room, gathered a leather cock ring, and wrapped it around his slave’s cock and testicles. The damned thing made Cam’s package feel like a fucking pretzel, but would help keep him from coming before given permission.
Frisco cupped Cam’s cheek and then stroked down his neck, over and down his pecs, through the valley of his ab muscles, and around his Adonis belt.
“Take comfort in the knowledge this isn’t likely to last longer than ten or twenty minutes. When I’m finished I’ll make sure you can free yourself before I go to the workout room. When you’ve cleaned up in here, come find me so I can check you.”
“Yes, Master.”
Frisco started with the tawse. There wasn’t a warm-up, but the strikes intensified over time so he hadn’t started all-out. When Cam could barely stand and was practically hanging from the suspension cuffs, his Master switched to the Loopy Johnny.
Few implements made Cam scream, but this one was practically a guarantee, and today he didn’t disappoint. From the first strike he was screaming, shrieking, and begging for it to stop.
When Frisco finally
threw the horrible implement on the ground, he lifted Cam by his hips, ordered him to spread his legs and lift his knees, and Cam’s ass was pressed onto his Master’s cock.
Frisco groaned as Cam gasped for air, and within seconds his Master was fucking his ass in a visceral frenzy of lust, violence, testosterone, and raw male power.
Somehow, his Master managed to release the cock ring and give permission in plenty of time for Cam to enjoy his full release before Frisco stopped fucking and emptied deep inside of him.
Frisco took mere seconds to release Cam’s right hand and walk out of the room. Cam sighed, released his left, gathered everything used on him, put it away, and sat on the grey metal, utilitarian, ugly-assed stool for a few minutes before going to find his Master.
* * * *
Frisco was doing katas in the workout room, trying to find his focus and figure out what to do, when Cam entered.
He motioned his boy towards the ballet bar he’d installed a few weeks after Cam moved in. Just as he’d been trained, Cam walked to it and leaned forward, presenting his back and ass for inspection.
Frisco looked over the forming bruises and ugly welts, and then opened the boy’s ass cheeks and looked at his hole.
“Turn.”
Cam turned and leaned against the bar, his hands on it at his back. Frisco checked his balls and cock, and quickly eyeballed him from feet to face.
“We need another shower.”
“Yes, Master.”
Frisco didn’t have it in him to send the boy away. There was no telling what kind of Master Cam would find, and he needed to get used to sometimes being sent away after a scene, but the boy hadn’t had much attention in days, and Frisco had been hard on him.
“Come on, then.”
Chapter Nine
Frisco was short-tempered at work, and finally went to his office to handle paperwork. He could hear himself being impatient and it wasn’t the atmosphere he wanted in his restaurant. If he was rude to the employees they were more likely to be rude to customers. He’d worked hard to create a great work environment with happy employees and low turnover, and he didn’t want to blow it in one day of bad temper.
Safeword: Arabesque (Safewords Book 9) Page 5