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Davy nodded. “I authorize Will to make all decisions about everything.”

Clay looked to me. “You know him best. I can’t have him bound so he can’t move, but if you want him gagged or blindfolded, it’s fine so long as the gag doesn’t restrict breathing. However you think he’ll handle this best.” He shrugged. “Or worst, if that’s what you’re going for, so long as he doesn’t get erect.”

Three orgasms so close together pretty much guaranteed he wasn’t going to get hard. If I ordered him hard he’d probably manage it, but with orders not to get hard, I wasn’t terribly concerned.

Viper had told me Clay often allows for power exchange while he works, but if he gets a lot of hesitation from the sub, or has the idea the Top is an asshole, he doesn’t. He stressed it was totally Clay’s call, but he figured it would all work out.

“I brought a wiffle-ball gag at Viper’s suggestion,” I told him. “And a posture collar, so he won’t be able to look down and see what’s happening, but he’ll be able to see me. I don’t want him in the dark for this.”

He nodded and motioned for us to follow him. “I just need his bottom half available. Whether he strips all the way or partway is up to you,” he told me.

“Everything folded on the chair and then have a seat,” I told Davy, who pulled his shirt off as soon as I gave the order.

“The gyno table works best for this,” Clay said. “Subs don’t usually balk, especially when it isn’t their call.”

I nodded and found I was looking forward to seeing my boy with his feet in the stirrups.

“I’ll need him sitting up some, and not all the way back like we put the girls. You might want to go ahead and gag him and put the collar on him before he goes up.”

It didn’t take long to get him situated. Clay checked Davy’s arm before he painted Davy’s cock with the same stuff, and then he showed me four pieces of jewelry he recommended for optimal healing, stressing I could put different jewelry in once it healed.

It took a long time for Clay to draw everything out and line it up. Just before he went in with the needle, he looked up and said, “Show me your safe signal, Davy.”

Davy held his hand up and snapped his fingers a half-dozen times.

“Okay. Here we go. Your master is about to tell you how important it is that you stay still for this. He’ll tell you whether you’re allowed to make noise or not. I don’t care about that, so it’s his call.”

Davy’s eyes cut to the side to look at me, and I said, “If you move, I’ll be most displeased and you’ll be punished more harshly than I’ve ever punished you. Scream if you must, but be mindful of how loud.”

A Prince Albert is a major piercing, and Davy’s initial yowl seemed perfectly in line with how it must feel to have a needle stuck through your dick. He squeezed my hand enough it hurt, but I didn’t say anything about it.

My dick went hard, though, and I couldn’t wait to get him home so I could empty my balls into him. I figured I could stretch him out on the bed with his head dangling off the side backwards, so I could look at his freshly pierced dick while I fucked his face.

After all the time it took to measure and draw, once the needle went in, it only took a few minutes before the needle was out and the jewelry was in. Maybe not even a whole minute.

Clay spent a great deal of time going over how to care for it while it healed, danger signs of an infection, and a ton of other advice. He checked Davy’s forearm before he sprayed the stuff on my boy’s dick, and he told me I should go ahead and buy two bottles of the stuff, rather than have to come back and buy another bottle in a few weeks. So I did.

When it was time to go, I dug some loose shorts out of the bag I’d packed and told my boy, “I’ll put these on your legs before we get you down, and I’ll pull them up once you’re standing. We’ll take the collar off once the shorts are on. You aren’t allowed to touch your dick. Understood?”

He nodded and gave a rough assimilation of “Yes, Master” with the gag in, and I helped him get his legs out of the stirrups. He wasn’t locked in, as I’d have preferred, but I guess there would be legal issues with Clay piercing someone who was bound.

Viper had said it was possible to pay Clay a whole lot extra to have him come to the house and do it all as part of a scene, but I’d wanted this to be in a strange place, a true medical thing, and that meant coming here.

We got the shorts on him, his shirt back on, and I put the gag, collar, and his running pants into my bag. I paid Clay and added a huge tip, and I put Davy into the backseat of the Drake SUV.

When we arrived home, I only had him take the shirt off in the garage. He’d be in shorts until I was ready to let him see his dick. And yes, it was a power thing. No way to say it nicely. He’d signed over the rights to decide what happened to his own dick, within some boundaries, of course, but piercing was absolutely something he’d signed that I could do.

Davyneedsto feel like a slave. Needs to be reminded of his status, and what better way to do this than to shove it in his face that I own his dick, not him.

People outside the lifestyle might see it as a dick move — and pun totally intended there — but in reality, I was conforming to the terms of our agreement. He wants to be the slave; I want to be the Master.

We stopped off in the playroom, where I had him stretch out on the bed, and I fucked his throat as I’d intended. I couldn’t see his dick through the shorts, but that didn’t matter. Just seeing the shape of the hardware through the thin shorts was enough to get me off in minutes, which was good because I was ready for breakfast.

So the kitchen was our next stop.

“You’ll be required to show it to me daily,” I told him while I fried the bacon and he cracked eggs into a bowl. I cut way back on carbs before a tour, so there were no biscuits or potatoes today. “No pictures, but I’ll want you to aim the phone so I can see it when we video chat. You won’t be running for a while, but crunches will be fine, and I think all your arm-day routine. We’ll have to go through the rest and figure out what you can and can’t do for the next couple of weeks.”

“He said four to eight weeks, Master.”