Page 9 of There’s a Way (Mythic Beast #2)
Davy
Master had known exactly what we needed, but he apparently wasn’t joking about seeing how many times I could orgasm in a day. We snuggled for at least thirty minutes before he left to cook us some food while I cleaned everything we’d used and put it away.
He was making gravy when I finally made it to the kitchen, and he ordered me to kneel on the counter and jack myself off again. “Permission to use some olive oil, Master?”
“Yes. The bread comes out of the oven in four minutes, and the gravy should be ready by then. Chop chop.”
That meant I should hurry, but I was still beating myself off when the oven dinged.
Master put everything on the table — mashed potatoes, country fried steaks, gravy, and rolls.
The steaks are premade and frozen, and only need to go into the oven, and he has a potato slicer, so the potatoes are in small slices and don’t have to boil long, and then are easy to mash up, but still, he’d made us a whole meal in the twenty-five minutes it’d taken me to clean everything and put it away.
I was suddenly starving, but I knew without being told I wasn’t eating until I came, so I closed my eyes and remembered the feeling of having to go back and forth across the mat wearing the damned humbler, getting bigger and bigger dildos with each trip, holding one after the next in my mouth while crushing my own balls and stretching my ball sack with every turn, and then gently crawling, every movement magnified in my balls, back and forth, a bigger dildo in my mouth with every circuit, and then the last one stretching my jaws until they cramped.
Back and forth because that was what Master ordered, and I follow Master’s orders.
That last bit was what it took, and my balls boiled up enough I nearly came without permission. “Master! Permission for this slave to make a mess. Please allow your slave to find release!”
“Permission granted.”
With those two words, I came mostly in my other hand, though some fell on the bar. I licked up the mess in my hand and then scooted back on my knees and licked up what’d landed on the bar, thankful this had been a second orgasm and I hadn’t spurted far enough for it to land on the floor.
And then I went back to my kneeling position and waited for Master’s orders.
“Good boy. Wipe the bar down and then come eat. Permission to sit in your chair.”
Something was up with him giving me permission ahead of time. He usually made me stop and wait for it at every step, but I didn’t question him about it.
And it was nice, sitting with him and eating. Sharing a meal.
“Thank you for fixing dinner, Master. I could’ve made us something this morning and had it in the crock pot.”
“And you would’ve, if I’d told you to, but I knew what I wanted, and this meal doesn’t work in a crock pot.
Tomorrow we’ll be eating out, and we’ll see what we all want the next day.
Your abs are beginning to show, proving you’ve been doing your exercises.
It’s probably time to add some intensity, so your abs can match mine. ”
Master’s abs are big-time ripped when he’s on tour, and only slightly ripped during his down time, when he eats more and isn’t performing and sweating three hours a night on top of working out during the day.
Rather than begging him to not make me do even more ab work, I said, “I follow Master’s rules and orders.” To myself, I added, whether I want to or not.
But then I considered that part. I wanted to follow Master’s orders, but I didn’t want to do more ab work. Both things were true.
“What’s going through your head, my beloved slave?”
“Two things are true despite the fact they contradict each other, Master. I want to follow your orders, but I also don’t want to have to do more intense ab exercises.
I will, of course, I’m not saying I won’t do them, just that I’m not looking forward to it, and yet I very much want to follow my Master’s orders. ”
He chewed his food, clearly considering and thinking.
He took a couple of bites before finally swallowing and saying, “It’s about what I want, not what you want, and I want my slave to have ripped abs.
I fell in love with you when you didn’t have them, and having them won’t make me love you more, but it’s a visual I want.
I’m pleased with your progress so far, and I know what it takes to get them — a lot of work and pain and discomfort, but it’s healthy pain, building and shaping muscles. ”
“I assumed you had a personal trainer, Master, the first time I saw you without clothes.”
“I used to, and when I’m not feeling especially motivated, I pull someone in to push me, and to help me tweak my workout routine, but mostly, I prefer to be my own motivation, with only the beat of the music to keep me on target.”
I nodded. Master often told me what song to work out to, and I’d worked out enough with him standing over me, I knew he intended me to do reps to the beat of the music. Some days were a little slower, other days a little faster. Some days he gave me a choice of songs, all with a similar beat.
“Do you have a chart that lists the beats per minute of a bunch of songs, Master?”
He chuckled. “As a matter of fact, yes I do. Sometimes I feel like a particular song with a faster beat, and then I do two beats up and two beats down, or even three and three, rather than working out directly to the tempo.”
I nodded. We’d done that plenty when working out together.
He hadn’t brought up Micca yet, but I had questions. “So, you like Micca, Master?”
“We had kind of the opposite situation of you and me — she knew who I was but I didn’t know who she was. We didn’t get around to exchanging names until after we’d fucked.” He sat back in his chair, took a swig of his beer, and set the bottle down.
“Until after we’d fucked twice, actually. You should hear the whole story, I think. Or at least most of it.”
I breathed in relief. “Thank you, Master.”
When he got to the part about her discovering she needs a partner and a submissive, I put my fork down and took a drink of my beer, and then another before I said, “She bosses Matty around when Razor has to be gone for a few days. I mean, mostly reminding him to go to bed, making sure he isn’t skipping meals, that kind of thing.
I gather she kept him on an even keel when he was between Masters.
I’ve heard the story of her telling Razor the limits for his first night with Matty — no blood, no watersports, stuff like that. ”
“Good to know. We’ll have to figure out how much control she’ll have over you.
Your contract with me says that’s my call, and I’m not interested in changing that, but I’ll ask for your feelings about it as we go.
This has to work for all of us, and if something isn’t working for you — I mean truly isn’t working, to the extent you’re thinking of leaving — I expect you to ask to go to the storage room.
Normal conversations about day-to-day issues you can bring up without stepping outside of our power exchange, but something serious, I need to know as soon as it rears its head.
Don’t put it off and hope I’ll fix it, because I can’t fix it if I don’t know there’s a problem. ”
The storage room is what Master figured would be the only room in the house where Master and I aren’t likely to be at the same time.
Mostly, he has people who come change things seasonally and who set up for parties.
The storage room has lots of Christmas stuff, party tables and chairs, extra lightbulbs, filters for the HVAC unit, leftover paint with labels saying which room each can was used for, and lots of other stuff.
So, if I want to talk to Master outside of our power exchange, I can ask to go to the storage room.
I’ve never done so, and honestly hope I never feel the need, but it’s good I have the option.
“I expect there to be some growing pains, Master. I told you about my last ride home on the plane, when Heather told me about her poly group a little, and how she never thought a fourth person would fit into their home, but then one of the Doms found their fourth, and she was perfect from the start. It helped me relax a little about adding another person. You won’t bring someone in who completely upsets the apple cart.
” I thought about what I’d said. “What does that even mean? Why are apples in carts?”
“I believe they were sold out of carts that moved around the city at some point, before we had fruit stands. If you’re finished, let’s go get a shower and then go shopping. I feel the need to buy you some shirts to show off your abs.”