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  "I realize you don't punch a time clock, but I have never required a slave, so…"

  "Wait a minute. Slave?" What the hell was he getting into?

  "Some couples live the life twenty-four/seven. As I was saying, I don't want to do that, so Friday evening to Monday morning for three months."

  "I was only on the boat for two weeks."

  "There wasn't as much to learn. Two months."

  Carl could tell James was enjoying the barter and so was he if he was honest with himself. "One month. I do have a life, you know."

  "Not according to Google. Six weeks."

  Was he really going to do this? "Fine. Starting when?"

  James allowed himself a gloating smile, Carl noted, as he stood up and came around the desk. "Stand up please, Carl. I want to see what I'm getting."

  As Carl rose and was caught in the scent of his cologne again, James reached out to cup the semi-erect bulge in his slacks. While he fondled Carl, he gave him a to-do list. "You will need to get a complete physical—I won’t touch you until I know you are healthy enough to take it. You will also need to be tested for STDs and AIDS. I will do the same and we will meet again to exchange paperwork and sign a contract."

  Brain-dead once again, Carl tried to concentrate on the subject at hand. This became more difficult by the minute as James opened his pants and pulled his dick out. He felt his flesh fill and harden in the older man's hand. "Contract?"

  "It's an agreement to be exclusive and spells out our responsibilities to one another. Not so much a legal commitment as a moral one." James looked down to watch his hand stroke the cock he held. "Tomorrow is Friday, so we'll meet two weeks from tomorrow. All the test results should be in by then. Call me if they're not."

  "Yes. I will do that." Carl's head dropped forward and he groaned as James released him. He was still hard and aching. The cap was so tight it gleamed in the afternoon sunlight that filtered through the room's windows.

  "You will call if you change your mind as well, Carl. I expect that courtesy."

  "Of course." His senses resurfaced enough to realize he was swinging in the wind and he self-consciously tucked his boner away. Nothing about this interview had gone as planned and he had a lot to think about when he got home.

  * * * *

  James sat in his chair and closed his eyes, remembering the tremors that shook the reporter's hands as he put his pen down. He was sure in that moment Carl decided to accept his challenge.

  He took a chance touching him as he did. The long, cut cock had fit his palm nicely, taxing his customary control. He'd had to conclude the meeting quickly before he jumped the man. His hand still tingled in remembered pleasure.

  He also enjoyed the confusion on Carl's face when he left. He would probably change his mind daily until their meeting. That was fine. James had faith in the man's professional curiosity and his own appeal.

  James reached for the phone to call Sam back with the dates he needed to be away from the restaurant.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Carl spent the first week running errands and taking care of the to-do list. He told his doctor he wanted to get back into shape with a personal trainer and had a full physical including a stress test he passed without too much trouble. The blood test for sexually transmitted diseases was something he did at regular intervals and he was confident he was clean. One couldn't catch anything from a book or DVD after all.

  He resented the fact that James thought he had no life. Okay, maybe it was true, but his travels to get the great stories took a toll on his love life. Writing was his passion and the few boyfriends he'd had did not last long when they realized they came second. Because hook-ups made him feel slutty, he was alone a lot.

  This new wrinkle in the disaster that was his life defied description. Was it work or did he now have a boyfriend? He made a face. No, but what did you call a man who wanted to do—what? 'Training' James said because Carl had no idea what BDSM was all about. Maybe mentor was the right word.

  The Leatherman was not an accurate example of romantic power exchange according to James, so the kind of things he would be subjected to were a mystery. He suspected the mechanics would be the same. There would be whips and ropes, he was sure, but the romance of the experience remained doubtful.

  James' dominate nature was clearly tied to his sexuality. The authority in his voice and manner was sexy without a doubt, but controlling men did not normally draw a response from Carl. His infatuation with James made no sense. He had no secret desire to be abused and he sincerely hoped he wasn't going to be.

  Damn! He was going to make himself nuts at this rate.

  The second week crawled by. It started by having a lunch date with his best friend, Tony. They grew up together and Carl figured it would be smart if someone knew where he was and what he was doing there. Just in case. Not that he was afraid. Damn!

  Tony's reaction, of course, was to laugh until he was hiccupping. Being straight and even-tempered, Tony did not understand Carl's fascination with James or BDSM. He promised to keep an eye on the apartment when Carl was with his 'Master' and to visit him in the hospital if something went wrong. A snicker accompanied this declaration and Carl took the ribbing with good humor.

  The talk with his editor at the Journal did not go as planned. It was fine if he wanted to arrange his scheduled desk time for Mondays through Thursdays to work on his by-line, but no one would be interested in a story about fags tying each other up. God, he hated that man! Before he left the building, he recruited four writers and the janitor to put Coke, or whatever they deemed appropriate, in the man's coffee every chance they got. A quick call to the Boston Herald was more productive and restored his faith in mankind.

  Thursday night brought a return of the worry this was a huge mistake. Earlier in the day, a courier delivered a package from James containing a remote for the gate and a house key. That gesture alone told him how serious James was about this venture. He lay in bed, wide-awake, and re-played his interview with James for the hundredth time. Had he really agreed to submit to him?

  Submit. The word made him uneasy. He pictured himself on his knees in front of the older man, a hand controlling his head, and in spite of his misgivings, the image had his dick swelling.

  Carl laid his head back against the pillow and squeezed his cock in one hand while reaching behind with the other to press a finger inside his hole. The dry penetration reminded him of what was in store for his ass over the next six weeks and his erection softened a little. Was it worth it? The story would be good and James was smokin' hot, but could he bend over for the man? Yeah. If the price of sex with James meant he bottomed, he would gladly give it up. The Dom was a wet dream in the flesh.

  The thought of seeing James naked worked better than any video and again his excitement mounted as he jerked his shaft until it stood straight up from his belly, ooze making a thin trail along its length. His breathing was harsh to his own ears and he closed his mouth. Now, every inhale was a struggle and he was desperate to come.

  Behind his eyelids, he could picture the Dom's body, tall and firm, standing over him. Just one more minute. Just one more tug on the meat in his hand. Just one…

  "Ahh, Christ!"

  Spunk shot out to land on his hand and stomach as Carl gasped in relief. He kept milking his cock until there was nothing left and the feel of his hand became almost painful. He lay covered in cum, not sure what it meant that the image in his mind as he came was of James raising a whip. He groaned. Damn!

  * * * *

  James had not been idle for the last two weeks either. Blood tests and calming his partner and long-time friend, Sam, took up most of the first two days. Sam was smart and ran the business end of the restaurant with the precision of a drill sergeant, but he lacked confidence. James thought his being unavailable three days a week was going to be good for Sam.

  He hoped the time away would be good for him, too. With luck and Sam's help, he might be able to take these little breaks more of
ten. Ten years devoted to building a successful business, first as a chef then as the owner, was enough. He wanted to enjoy the wealth now.

  After that, the fun part began. First, he needed go over the leather goods. Anything cracked or split was tossed. The same went for any leather stiff with age and questionable stains. Second, he threw out any body-cavity toys. Plugs, gags, sounds and tubing needed to be new for sanitary reasons.

  That brought him to the third task—buying all the lovely replacements. He spent hours, and a good deal of money, ordering wonderful items from his favorite websites. All of it to be sent priority mail. Thank god for the internet.

  Lastly, he cleaned the playroom. Dust was a blanket on everything. James did not allow Susan, his cook and housekeeper, in here and he was an indifferent chambermaid at best. By Thursday night, the room was ready. The smells of lemon and leather gave James a sense of rightness. At this point in his life and with this reporter, it was going to work. He was ready.

  James had given a great deal of thought to this first three-day session. The point of the exercise for Carl was the printable story and he knew he could get away with a few mild games that would make the writer happy and call it good. Yet, for himself, this was a chance to test his premise—dominance, done correctly, took the submissive partner on a journey of self-discovery. It did not matter if Carl was not naturally submissive. As long as he kept an open mind and was willing to trust James to take care of him, he would follow where James led.

  So, the question remained. How hard could he push Carl during this 'honeymoon' period? Too hard and his boy would bolt. Too easy and he would be doing both of them a disservice. He glanced at his watch just as a beep sounded on the security panel behind him. The time for second-guessing was over. Carl was here.

  James once more admired the dark good looks of the man who entered his den. Soon, all that Italian muscle and temperament would be his and he was eager to start as he waved Carl to one of the chairs by the windows. Grabbing his folder and a journal, he joined him.

  "Hello, Carl. I'm surprised you didn't call to cancel or bombard me with questions." They shook hands and James sat. "I am pleased too, of course."

  "Hi, James. I wanted to. Bombard you with questions, that is. I had no intention of canceling." He held out a set of papers. "The blood tests and physical you asked for. I am in fine shape except for the cholesterol." He gave a shrug.

  "We'll get that down." He was amused to see Carl's' eyes widen. "My test results for you." He handed them over along with the journal. "I realize you have your notebook to jot things down for the article, but this book is for you. Here, your personal observations of our time together are yours alone."

  "Thank you. Gee, I didn't get you anything." The cheeky grin delighted him because it showed Carl was comfortable in his home.

  He smiled back and then grew serious. "You are about to give me everything, Carl. Make no mistake—I will never take that gift lightly." He cleared his throat and gave him one more set of papers. "This is the contract I drew up. Most of it is standard fair for a Dom/sub agreement, but there are a few things unique to us that I need to explain."

  Carl looked down at the papers and frowned. "I think you'll have to explain the whole thing. This is all new to me."

  "Right, sorry. Usually, a contract is for those who want to live the life twenty-four/seven. Because you're new to this and we will be essentially living together three days a week, I thought a contract appropriate."

  "Okay."

  "You, the submissive, agree to satisfy my wants and desires by offering your time, skills and sincerity. You will allow me to have unlimited use of your body anytime, any place and in front of anyone during the times specified in this contract."

  "Whoa! I didn't agree to that. You can't just up and…"

  "Let me finish, Carl. I understand your concerns, believe me, and I will get to them."

  "Fine. Sure." The younger man still looked mutinous, but quieted down and James continued.

  "You will obey my commands and do your best to overcome your inhibitions and feelings of shame as you submit to my will. You will be honest and open with your thoughts, feelings and desires without hesitation or embarrassment. You understand that I will be the sole judge of your needs and how they will be met."

  James looked up from the papers and smiled at Carl. "I know it sounds like too much, but the relationship is built completely upon your co-operation. Without that, we have nothing. Well, vanilla sex, I suppose. However, that's not why you're here."

  "I know." Carl shook his head. "What do you have to promise? This can't be all one-sided."

  "No, of course not. I, in turn, agree to use your body to fulfill and develop your sexual, emotional and intellectual needs. I will help you to grow in strength, character and confidence."

  "You're beginning to sound like my mom." The cheeky grin was back and James was relieved to see it. He did not want this to be over before it began.

  "In a sense, I am a parent...with benefits." He grinned back as Carl laughed outright. "This next part should calm your fears. I will not demean you or diminish your self-worth as a human being. I will not require anything that will damage your family, friendships or job. I will honor a request by you to end a session with the use of your safeword. I will end a session myself if I decide that you are in genuine distress."

  "And all of this is just the stuff that goes into a standard contract?" He flipped to the second paper. "Ah, the unique items."

  "Yes. No blood play."

  "Good."

  "I thought you'd like that one. No scat play. No permanent marks or body modifications. No knives or guns."

  "Just so we're clear; scat is fecal matter?"

  "Yes."

  "Thank God!"

  "You will live here from Friday afternoon to Monday morning each week, but be subject to my will when we are not together in regards to sexual and sensual behaviors. And finally, the term of the contract is for the length of six weeks unless we decide to terminate the agreement earlier." He stood. "I will leave you to read it through while I see what Sam sent over for dinner."

  There was really nothing to do in the kitchen. Susan already set the table and chicken marsala was in the warming drawer. He puttered around and opened a bottle of wine, giving Carl time to read the contract and sign it. After a few minutes, he returned to the den.

  "This leaves a lot of room for interpretation."

  "If it were more precise, it would be twenty pages long." James resumed his seat and signed his copy, handing the pen to Carl. "We will work out the details as we go along. The point is to formalize our relationship with a ritual of sorts."

  "Yeah, it feels like a ceremony." He signed the copy he held then they traded and signed again.

  James stood again. "Let's eat." He waited until his boy rose and put a hand on the back of Carl's neck to bring him close. "Welcome," he said against the full lips as he claimed the first kiss. Carl opened easily for him and leaned into the contact. James thought it was a good way to start.

  * * * *

  With the contract signed, Carl was surprised at how relaxed he felt as the two of them sat down to eat. "You don't do your own cooking?"

  James laughed and poured wine into the glasses. "Not anymore. Usually, I'm at the restaurant overseeing the kitchen and soothing excitable chefs. I eat there. Although, I prepare a light meal for the guys when they come over on Sundays."

  "Sundays? I thought the club met on Tuesdays." This was great! He thought James had deliberately scheduled his time to miss the club meetings.

  "Tuesdays are for the Doms. We meet at the restaurant and gossip about the absentees and, of course, our subs. Every other Sunday they bring their subs here. The pets, subs, love the chance to do a little gossiping of their own and we play some to show them off."

  "So, there will be a houseful of people here on Sunday? Do they know about me? Will we be doing scenes?" He was not sure what to think about that. What James and he were doi
ng felt private. Which was ridiculous, he planned to write about it, but having witnesses bothered him.

  "Yes. You were a favorite topic of conversation for three weeks in a row." James laughed again at the look on Carl's face. "No. Not this Sunday and not everyone shows up every time."

  "How many people are we talking about?"

  "There are eight Doms, one is a woman, and four of them, I make five now, have subs. The young men you met at the mall are the newest members. Mike, the Dom, has been part of the group for almost two years and Severo is a recent acquisition."

  The rest of the meal passed pleasantly as James answered Carl's questions. The food was excellent, the single glass of wine James allowed them was good and he enjoyed quizzing the older man on the dos and don'ts of BDSM.

  They cleared the table and James deemed it time to go over some rules. "Each Friday when you arrive, you will come to this room." He led Carl into a bedroom tastefully, if boringly, decorated. The connecting bathroom was next. "You will shower and give yourself an internal cleansing with this." He showed Carl the hose and nozzle affixed to the showerhead. "Toss the tip after each use. There are extras in the vanity drawer."

  Carl could feel his face heat up, but said nothing. He hadn't been fucked in the last decade and suddenly had a new appreciation for the extra trouble bottoms went through.

  James smiled knowingly and continued. "I will leave loose pants here in the chair for you to wear. Unless we go out or I require you to be naked, they are what you'll wear when you're here." He waved at the room and walked to the outer door. "Take care of all that now and then find me in the den." He closed the door behind him and left Carl alone with his doubts and the shower.

  Carl stripped as soon as James left. There was no point in dragging this out. The sooner he did what was required, the sooner they could begin.

  The shower fascinated him. It was large enough for two men to maneuver and had a bar at waist height that ran all the way around. There was a digital gauge next to the water controls to show temperature. The controls themselves had settings for pulse, stream, pause and alternate. He assumed the last item was for the enema attachment.