Safeword: Arabesque (Safewords Book 9) (8 page)

“Yeah, me too. I’ll see you in class?”

* * * *

Cassie had to work to concentrate on Tom throughout the class, and never quite managed to find her center.

Frisco’s presence seemed to fill the room, and her senses were tuned into him whether she wanted to think of him or not.

When class was finally over, she showered and escaped to her car. She hadn’t felt so much nervous anticipation since…hmmm. She couldn’t ever remember feeling this overwrought.

Frisco looked at her as he drove away, and slowed until she followed.

As he led her onto the interstate and a good ways out of town, it occurred to her she had no idea where he lived. They exited the interstate and drove another ten minutes with nothing but woods and pastures around them, and she called his cellphone. “Where do you live, anyway?”

He chuckled. “It’s just another five minutes or so. I like my privacy.”

It was actually another ten minutes before they turned into his driveway, which was over a mile long. When they rounded the last corner and the house came into view, she was flabbergasted.

The house was huge, and there was a small river behind it. Or, perhaps a large creek?

She parked beside him and stood to stretch her legs. It hadn’t been
that
long of a drive, but in the dark on a strange road it felt longer.

Frisco came to her and pulled her into a hug, and she went to him easily. She was a little concerned at how comfortable she was with him touching and holding her, but it felt right and she wasn’t up to fighting it.

She leaned into him and breathed the fresh air around them. How was it this man’s arms seemed so safe, as if she were coming home from a trip she didn’t even remember taking? They’d only shared a few hours of intimacy, and she hadn’t felt this way towards men she’d dated for months.

Frisco pulled away, but kept his hand at the small of her back as he walked her towards the house.

“Your house is beautiful. I’m not sure why, but I’d imagined a bachelor pad. The mansion is a little surprising.”

“It isn’t a mansion. The main house just has one bedroom.”

Cassie looked around and realized it was two buildings. The main house was still huge, but the second building was also big. “What do you have besides the main house?”

“The garage is completely separate, and Cam’s apartment is upstairs.”

It looked like a five or six car garage, but she didn’t ask what was in it.

He led her into the main house, with a keypad to get in the door instead of keys.

They stepped into a huge living area, with a kitchen and dining room a few steps up. It was all one room, but different levels and partial walls delineated the spaces. The house had been built into the landscape and followed the contours of the terrain.

And the large room was easily two thousand square feet.

“There’s a watermelon in the fridge, walk to the kitchen with me while I cut it?”

Cassie nodded, a little overwhelmed at how domestic Frisco seemed. The place was spotless, there were no dishes in the sink, all surfaces shined and sparkled, and when he opened the refrigerator it held healthy foods, neatly ordered.

He cut the watermelon into cubes in less than a minute, dumped them into a bowl, and walked her back to the living room. A quick flick of the remote and music played in the background.

She opened her mouth as he held a watermelon cube in front of it, and groaned as she bit into the sweet fruit. His smile was cocky, as if he were responsible for the sound, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

Laughing, he said, “Okay, we have a little less than an hour until Cam arrives. Are you sure you’re up to watching us in action?” Cassie nodded and he leaned back, away from her. “There’s no shame in changing your mind now, but once Cam and I start I don’t want you to do anything to make him feel ill at ease.”

“I’m good,” she told him. “I want to see.”

Nodding, Frisco said, “Okay, then. I need to explain our arrangement.” He leaned towards her again, but didn’t touch her. “I take on men to train in the lifestyle. I interview boys, decide who I want to work with, and then sign a one year contract to train them. They officially live over the garage, but spend the majority of their time in the house. They’re allowed no belongings in my home, their things are in the apartment.”

He took a breath. “We aren’t in a romantic relationship. I don’t love the boys I train, and they aren’t to fall in love with me. We’re close and there’s affection, but I’m their trainer, not their boyfriend. I’m good friends with almost everyone I’ve taught, but once the contract is over I’m no longer their Master in any way. There are no more scenes. Ever.”

Cassie tilted her head, a little horrified he could get so close to someone and then just send them away.

“As I said,” he continued. “We each have contractual responsibilities.” He motioned to the room. “Cam keeps my home clean, makes sure I have clean clothes, handles the yard work, and shops for my groceries. He went shopping with me a half dozen or so times to learn the brands I like, and how to properly choose fruits and vegetables. He has a debit card to use when purchasing things for me, and while he usually eats with me, he keeps some food in his apartment for the days he needs to feed himself.”

“I enjoy cooking,” Frisco continued after a short pause, “and I’ve taught him to cook dozens of dishes. He cooks when I’m tired, or sometimes we cook together.”

Cassie leaned back. This was interesting but it wasn’t what she’d wanted to know.

Frisco smiled and leaned back, too. “He’s nude in the house when it’s only the two of us. Outside of a scene, he only calls me Master in the playroom and bedroom because I don’t want him to mess up and say the wrong thing when my family visits. He has a cushion on the floor of my bedroom, and most often sleeps on it. I sometimes send him to his apartment, and on special occasions allow him to sleep in my bed.”

“What do you train him to do? I mean, besides cleaning and cooking and choosing good fruits and vegetables?”

Frisco laughed. “Never underestimate the value of a boy who knows how to do these things. So many people think slave training is all about the sex, and the sexual training is important, but is really a small part of what it takes to make a good slave.”

He leaned forward and took her hand in his. “Cam is available to me sexually whenever I want him. He sometimes bathes me, washes my hair, massages me, and gives me foot rubs. We work on orgasm control, the ability to get erect on command with no stimulation, and the ability to go soft on command as well. He’s not doing so well with the latter, and is required to ice his own cock and balls when he can’t manage it.”

Cassie’s pulse sped at the idea of Frisco having so much control over the beautiful young man. “Do you make him cook naked?”

He laughed. “No, there’s an apron for his use when he cooks.” He smiled. “It’s hard to beat the visual of a naked boy in an apron.”

Cassie looked out the large wall of windows and could see the water sparkling through the trees in the moonlight. She looked at Frisco and spoke slowly as she put it all together. “You told me you don’t have relationships with men. I guess I didn’t really believe you, and I’m not sure I do now, either. I mean, you’re in a one-year commitment with Cam. Putting an expiration date on the relationship doesn’t keep it from being a relationship.”

* * * *

Frisco leaned away from Cassie and shook his head. He wasn’t going to argue the point with her. He knew she was wrong; she’d figure it out when she saw him in action.

“To explain what you’re going to see tonight,” he said, determined to keep the conversation on track. “Cam deserves a bit of a reward. Tonight’s scene, the beginning at least, will be structured to give him pleasure. He’s a masochist, so it’ll look painful, but I’ll work him up to the extreme stuff and you may even hear him beg me for more or ask me to hit him harder.”

He leaned forward and cupped her cheek. “No matter what, you can’t act as if there’s anything wrong with what we’re doing. Cam has learned to be proud of being a slave and I won’t have you destroying the progress we’ve made.”

Cassie put her palm on Frisco’s hand, over her cheek, and said, “I want to watch. I loved watching the two of you together on the dance floor, and you already know how I felt about the leash. The hitting and slapping I saw online disturbed me, but it was different. You
see
Cam, when you do things to him. He isn’t an object. You may treat him like one when you’re so casually holding his leash, but your eyes focus on him different than they do on other people.”

He nodded, flicked the remote, and his huge, movie-screen-sized television came to life on the far wall, looking like a gigantic android screen.

“Text Cam.” He waited for the texting box to open, addressed to Cam, and said, “We have company. Come to me as you would if we were alone.”

He watched his words form on the screen and then used the remote as a mouse to click send.

“Now,” he said with a mischievous smile that made Cassie’s insides heat, “what shall we do with you while I’m busy with Cam?”

Chapter Ten

Cam heard the text come in, but didn’t check it until he was in Frisco’s driveway. He wasn’t allowed to read or send texts while on a public road.

His cock went hard at the command, but he refrained from touching himself.

That wasn’t allowed, either.

Cameron walked to the side patio and took his shoes off, then his clothes. Slaves don’t usually enter through the front door.

He folded his clothes into a neat bundle on the outside table, lifted them as a unit, and carried them inside where he settled the clothes and shoes in a small cabinet.

Standing tall, he considered his posture, looked at his cock to be sure it was erect enough — and boy was it ever.
Damn
, he was so hard it hurt, and had no idea when he’d be allowed another orgasm.

He could see the back of someone’s head in the great room, but had no idea who it was.

Or what was in store for him.

He knew Frisco’s training would eventually involve teaching him to serve more than one man at a time. He’d had small tastes of it but looked forward to more. A lot more.

He circled the throw rugs delineating the living area, keeping his feet on the hardwood floor. As he neared them, he realized Frisco was with a
woman
, and he paused a few seconds before remembering his task.

Every other time Frisco had brought a woman home, Cam had been instructed to go to his apartment and stay out of the house.

Reeling, he went through the motions drilled into him by repetition — kneeling on the hard floor before prostrating himself. There were several levels, and he had to go through them until his Master told him to rise.

He went to his knees with his back arched and forehead on the ground. A slow count of five, and he straightened his arms over his head, palms on the floor, and this time counted to ten, making sure he took his time and didn’t rush.

His Master didn’t tell him to rise, so he pushed his knees back and his ass up, and slid his feet back until he lay flat on the ground.

He lay there a while, and thought he heard Frisco kissing the woman. He hadn’t been permitted to look at anything other than the floor, so he didn’t know who it was, or if he might know her.

Despite his apprehension, his cock was granite-hard against the hardwood floor.

“You may crawl to me.”

For this, eye contact was required, and Cam pushed to his hands and knees before lifting his gaze.

Crawling to someone while maintaining eye contact is humbling, as he supposed his Master meant it to be.

The entire purpose of entering the home, prostrating himself, and crawling to his Master was designed to help him throw off the demands of the day and step back into his slavehood.

The command when he reached his Master changed with the circumstances. He might be required to give a blow-job, or kiss his Master’s feet, or he might just kneel comfortably on the floor, leaned against Frisco’s legs as he told him about his day.

He doubted it would be the latter, tonight.

“Kneel up.”

Cam went to his knees, straightened his hips, and locked his hands behind his head.

“You had class today? And rehearsal?”

“Yes, Master.” Cam so wanted to glance at the woman, see her reaction, but he kept his eyes glued to the man before him.

“How is the ankle holding up?”

“Tender, and I’m still babying it, Sir, but it’s okay.”

“Do you need to ice it?”

Cam shook his head, noted his Master’s look of displeasure, and quickly added, “No, Master. Thank you for asking.”

“We’ll be playing upstairs tonight.”

He looked towards the woman, and Cam’s gaze followed his Master’s.