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“I bought that one,” I told them. “Heard it live in Nashville in one of the many little bars that primarily exist for people to tryout new material, and it spoke to me. I had my people talk to her people, and I paid her more than she was asking for it because...” I shrugged. “It spoke to me, so I paid what I thought it was worth because I didn’t think she understood the value of what she’d created.”

“Cats and Unicorns?” Micca asked, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Ya’ll know I don’t do heavy drugs, but a guitarist I used to work with went to Mexico for ibogaine to treat her depression and PTSD. We were together at the time, so I went with her to support her, so she didn’t have to go alone, and then decided I may as well try it while I was there. It isn’t addictive and doesn’t kill brain cells, and it’s legal there, so what was the harm?” I shrugged. “I was curious, after hearing about her first dose, so I made arrangements for my own on the second night. I didn’t do it because I needed it, but because I wanted to. This particular place has people who keep an eye on you, and I told my minder that if I started singing songs or making up verse, to get it on video, and I went out and bought a burner phone to give him, so I’d have control over whatever video he took.”

“And you hallucinated cats and unicorns?” Micca asked.

“No, I hallucinated unicorns first, and then later, a sabertoothed tiger. Eventually, the unicorn fucked the tiger, and yeah, I sang about it. Once I was sober, the rhythm worked better with a one-syllable word wheretigerwas in my whacked-out singing, and I obviously added to the song, to make it sound like some people go together like cats and unicorns, but the whole thing started with nonsense singing I did while I was taking a trip on ibogaine.”

“You were close to this guitarist? But you went searching for someone else when it came time to put a band together?” Micca asked.

“I’d fucked her, and I knew that wasn’t what I wanted moving forward. I wanted bandmates I was close to without being romantic or sexual with. Hailey was serious with Ghost, there’s no chance Animal and I are going to fuck because he’s heteroandhe isn’t my type, and Silver was clear from the get-go that she doesn’t fuck people she works with.” I sighed. “Also, Caro and I had broken up by that time, though it took me a while to manage it because she was super high maintenance and I felt guilty about not wanting that in my life anymore. She’s dating the guy she’s playing guitar for now — they seem happy, and I wish them the best.”

“I’m pretty high maintenance, Master,” Davy said, his voice soft and timid.

“Oh, no you aren’t, and it’s one of the things I love about you. I give you rules and you almost always follow them to the letter, despite the fact many of them require you to think on your feet and make a decision closest to the one I would make if I were there to tell you what to do. You’re the opposite of high maintenance. I expect my partners to be able to make decisions without me, even my slave.”

“And that’s one of the things I like about you,” Micca said. “Mostly, you don’t micromanage Davy, and yet, some of his rules are ones you’d expect from a micromanager. It works for me because I’ve been trying to figure out how to get the results one gets when creating rules down to the millimeter of someone’s life without it becoming this overbearingthingthat isn’t sustainable.”

I nodded, sat on the sofa, and pointed Davy to sit on the floor at my feet. He sat and leaned against my legs while I told Micca, “It takes some finessing and only works with an intelligent slave. You’re right that the goal is to make it a part of our lives for the long run, rules that justhappenwithout a lot of effort. I point where I want him to sit or kneel, and he remains standing untilI do so. He doesn’t sit at the table until I tell him he can, and then he sits at his plate and doesn’t eat until I tell him he can. Constant reminders of our power exchange, things that happen multiple times a day but don’t eat into our day. A second or two here and there.”

She sat in a chair, facing me. “It’s only been ten days since our first night together, which is probably too soon for this conversation, but it’s been on my mind so I’m going to bring it up.” She looked down to Davy and then back up to me. “This is between you and me, for now, without Davy’s input, though I feel it’s important he hear us have the conversation.”

I rubbed the top of Davy’s head and told him, “No words, slave. Silence until I rescind the order.”

He nodded to confirm he understood, which is normally unacceptable, but considering the order, was appropriate.

“Thank you,” Micca said, and then took a breath before diving in. “I feel like I need my own contract with Davy. My rules are slightly different than yours because you encourage him to speak up whenever he has something to say, and I prefer slaves write out any issues they have as they come up, and then hand the written notes over during scheduled talks. Mostly, we have similar expectations. I don’t feel the same about punishments as you — I handle small stuff with some long ball squeezes, so it’s over and done in five minutes, while larger infractions mean the slave spends the night in pain with very little sleep, and is expected to maintain as normal the following day. I don’t spend a whole lot of my time punishing them, though they spend plenty of time being punished, if it’s something big.”

And that would work for a slave without an outside job, but, “My contract with Davy says I won’t interfere with his work in any way, and I assume he’ll insist on the same with you. This means you can’t keep him up all night.”

“Yeah, that’s new for me. The slaves I had access to rarely left the property. The point is, there are some minor differences, but the life of a slave means conforming to each Master.”

I nodded. “You’ve read through the contract I have with Davy. I’d like to read through your rough draft before you show it to Davy and begin negotiations. Whether I’m in the room with the two of you while you negotiate?” I looked down at Davy and then back to Micca. “How do you want to work that?”

“I feel like that should be between me and Davy, though of course you need to read through it and have a chance to give your own input before Davy and I sign it and make it official.”

I nodded. I’d prefer to be part of the negotiations, but I also understood why she wanted it to be between the two of them. “We have a room in the house where he isn’t in power exchange. You can either use that room or bring him here. Whatever works best for you.”

“Thanks for that. I appreciate that you’ve started calling him ours, but the way I see it, we’ve started the transition from him being your slave to our slave, but it’s a process and we still have a way to go.” She looked at Davy and back to me. “I think we can bring him back into the conversation now.”

“Order rescinded, Davy.”

“Thank you, Master.”

“I’m not asking how you feel about anything right now Davy,” Micca told him, “and I won’t until you’re out of power exchange. Mostly, I’m not terribly interested in how slaves feel about the orders I give. I find that’s a little different with you, but it’s the way I was taught. I care about you, and that’s different for me, so I’ll have to figure out when your feelings matter and when they don’t.”

Chapter 20

Micca

Bran’s slaves were either true slaves who’d lost their autonomy or were indentured slaves who were being paid handsomely for giving up their rights. Either way, they didn’t have a way to leave just because they didn’t like something I did to them or ordered them to do.

I understood Davy was choosing to be a slave, and that meant he could choose to leave, which meant I had to care a little about how he felt, but I could use my sense of smell to know when he was truly displeased about an order, versus hating an order but being turned on by it. However, even if I’d been able to explain that, it would’ve taken away the illusion of his slavery, and that wouldn’t do.

“We’ll operate under the contract we negotiate for three days before we discuss needed changes and sign it,” I told him. “And then we’ll talk outside of power exchange on the first Sunday of every month for a couple of months, and then it’ll be every third month, then every sixth month, and eventually, once per year.”

“It feels like you’re used to dealing with slaves who are more hard-core than me, Sir.”