The Contract – Serving his Master series Book 1

Editor’s Note: The Contract is a stand-alone Serving His Masters series novel. Powerful M/M BDSM with a romantic twist.

EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK:

Chapter 2

Sunlight filtered through the gauzy netting of the training cabana—a semi-enclosed hut made from curved wooden latticework. White cloth shades could be lowered over the latticework when privacy was desired.

Quinn was distracted for a moment by the guy stepping off the yacht behind Carlo. He was too far away to really see his face, but Quinn could see the strong lines of his shoulders and easy way he moved, like someone comfortable in their own skin. The guy was dressed in faded jeans and an olive green T-shirt that hugged his lean form. His blond hair glinted in the sunlight. A new recruit, Quinn realized. New meat, as Drew liked to call them.

Quinn was drawn abruptly back to his task by John’s sudden, sharp cry. He saw the wicked welt rising on John’s ribs and realized what had happened. He put his hand gently over George’s wrist before the Dom-in-training could do more harm. “Careful,” Quinn said. “You’re wrapping the whip and that can be dangerous. The whip should be an extension of your arm. It needs to land exactly where you want it to go. Let’s work on your wrist position and distance.” He returned his focus fully to the training session.

When the session was over, Quinn looked at his watch, trying to decide if he had time for a dip in the pool before his next appointment. “Hey, sexy. I think I’m in need of some C&B worship training. Can I practice on you?”

Quinn turned to the sound of Drew’s voice. He was leaning into the entrance of the training hut. It wasn’t that long ago that just the sound of Drew’s husky voice would be enough to get Quinn’s cock hard. When had that changed? As much from habit as anything, Quinn responded, “I don’t think you need any practice. You’re definitely a pro.”

Drew shook back his shiny black hair and ran his tongue lasciviously over his lips. “No, no. You’re wrong. I need practice. Lots and lots of it.” As he spoke, Drew tapped the console that caused the shades to roll down over the walls, casting the hut in a milky, muted glow.

Quinn took a step back, an excuse forming on his lips, but Drew was too quick for him. He dropped to his knees in front of Quinn and reached up, hooking his fingers into the elastic waistband of Quinn’s shorts and dragging them down his thighs.

Before Quinn could protest, Drew had closed his mouth expertly over Quinn’s balls, while his fingers wrapped around Quinn’s shaft, stroking and tugging it until it hardened of its own accord. Quinn sighed as Drew brought his significant talents to bear, and gave in to the pleasurable sensations moving through his loins. He leaned against the wall of the cabana and placed his hands on Drew’s head as Drew took his cock deep into his throat.

It wasn’t long before Quinn felt the tightening in his balls that signaled his impending orgasm. As the jism shot through his shaft, he curled his fingers in Drew’s hair, twisting it as he held Drew in place until the younger man had swallowed every drop. He let him go with a groan.

Drew leaned back on his haunches, a broad, triumphant grin on his handsome face. As Quinn stared down at him, Drew’s grin turned into a mock frown. “Please forgive this unworthy slave, Master,” Drew said with pretend remorse. “I need to be punished for my ineptitude.”

Drew rose to his feet. He was wearing the same trainer’s uniform as Quinn, which consisted of white shorts and a dark blue tank top. Flashing a quick grin, he pulled down his shorts and pivoted so his back was to Quinn as he lowered himself to all fours. He lowered his head and lifted his ass in classic submissive pose, forehead touching the ground and arms extended along either side of his head.

Quinn felt a sudden spasm of guilt as he realized he didn’t really want to smack Drew’s pert little ass. He would rather take that swim now to clear his head. When had their relationship segued from friends with benefits to something more? Why did he have the strange feeling he hadn’t really been consulted in the process?

He knew that wasn’t fair. He was no youth that Drew had somehow seduced. He was thirty-seven to Drew’s twenty-eight, and ostensibly the Dom in the relationship, though Drew liked to play both sides of the fence.

Drew was waiting so intently now that Quinn imagined he could see Drew’s desire shimmering like an aura around his taut, expectant body. The boy wanted a spanking. Fine. Quinn would give him one.

He started to use his hand, but realized he didn’t want the intimacy of skin on skin. That thought brought another surge of guilt. Still, he reached instead for the leather strap, which he knew Drew loved, and brought it down with a solid thwack against both cheeks.

“Please, Sir,” Drew begged breathlessly. “May I have another?”

Quinn obliged, though he found his mind drifting to the guy he’d seen stepping off the yacht behind Carlo.

~*~

The island wasn’t flat as Jace would have imagined, but rather a series of plateaus and cliffs rimmed with a broad beach of pink sand, and covered in bright, tropical foliage as one moved farther inland. Once the yacht had docked, Carlo led Jace up a set of wide stone stairs to the most amazing pool Jace had ever seen.

The pool was set on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean. That in itself was breathtaking enough, but what really caught Jace’s attention was its startling color. The pool water was a shimmery blood red, the effect heightened by the large red canvas umbrellas set at intervals around its perimeter.

Carlo followed Jace’s gawking gaze. “The water gets its color from a base of mosaic glass tiles that form the bottom of the pool. It looks especially spectacular at night when the lights come on.”

There were two people in the pool, one standing, the other floating on his back. As they moved closer, Jace saw that the one on his back was covered in a crisscross of rope, his arms bound beneath him, a white blindfold over his eyes. He was naked, his cock and balls bound in thinner strands of white rope, his shaft pointing up toward the sky.

“Oh my god,” Jace said involuntarily as the standing man suddenly pushed the bound man beneath the red water.

“The sub on his back is learning about trust,” Carlo explained. “The Dom working with him is highly skilled at what he’s doing.” As they watched, the Dom allowed the sub to resurface. His chest was heaving beneath the ropes, his cock still hard as iron.

Carlo touched Jace’s arm, indicating they should continue, and Jace reluctantly tore his gaze away from the scene in the pool. They passed men draped on lounge chairs under the umbrellas. Some were naked, others wore bathing suits. There were several sculpted, gleaming young men moving among them, some with trays of cold drinks, others carrying towels, some kneeling beside guests massaging suntan oil onto their backs.

The serving men all wore gold slave chains around their necks and at their wrists and ankles. They wore spandex thong underwear that matched the gold chains and left very little to the imagination.

“Let me show you to your bungalow so you can get settled and put away your things.” Carlo glanced at his watch. “We have some time before lunch. Why don’t I take you on a tour of the place so you can get your bearings?”

“Okay. Sounds good.” Jace tried to keep from staring as they passed a man with silver hair wearing a thick white terrycloth robe, open to reveal his tanned, naked body. He was leaning back in a chair beneath one of the red umbrellas, a drink in his hand, his attention seemingly on the man next to him, while a bronzed young man on his knees between the older man’s spread legs was bobbing up and down on his cock.

As they walked by, so close Jace could have reached out and touched the younger guy’s back, the silver-haired man looked up suddenly, his eyes locking on Jace’s. Jace looked away, but not before he’d seen the older man’s eyes narrow and hood with a look of unmistakable lust.

Carlo, already moving ahead, glanced back, indicating with a toss of his head that Jace should follow. As they left the pool area and walked along a broad, paved walkway lined with palm trees, he said, “That’s Conrad, one of our best clients.” He cocked an eyebrow, his smile sardonic. “I’m sure you’ll get to know him if you sign on.”

Carlo stopped in front of one in a series of small bungalows with white stucco walls and red tile roofs. Using a card key, he unlocked the door and opened it, gesturing for Jace to precede him inside. The air was warm and sticky, despite the breeze. Inside the air-conditioned bungalow it was refreshingly cool.

The space was bigger than it looked from the outside, opening into a living area with a sofa and chair set around a low coffee table made of a thick slab of green glass. The hardwood floors were stained a dark mahogany, over which bright throw rugs had been placed here and there. A large flat screen TV graced one wall. Beautifully framed seascapes done in pale watercolors hung on another wall. The back wall was nearly entirely of glass—huge windows that afforded a gorgeous view of the pink sandy shore and the clear blue-green ocean beyond. The room opened onto a small kitchen.

“Wow, this is some place,” Jace said, truly impressed. He could only guess what the cost per night might be.

Carlo nodded. “This is one of our more modest accommodations, actually. We try to keep one or two available for comp guests. Come on”—he headed toward what must be the bedroom—”I’ll show you the rest.” Jace followed Carlo through an arched doorway into a bedroom that was just as large as the living area. A king-size four poster bed dominated one side of the room, covered in a pristine white duvet and piled with plump pillows. Directly across from the bed was another spectacular view of the ocean.

“Bathroom’s in there.” Carlo pointed through an open doorway. “I’ll just let you settle in, wash up, whatever you need. There are drinks in your refrigerator. Lunch is offered from noon to two, which gives us time for a tour before we eat. I’ll swing back by in about twenty minutes, does that work?”

Jace nodded. “Sure. Yeah, that’s fine. Thanks.”

Carlo reached into his jacket—today he was wearing a pale green silk jacket over white linen pants, looking every bit the millionaire he probably was—and pulled out the slim plastic card he’d used to open the front door. He handed it to Jace. “This is your bungalow key for the weekend.”

Jace took it. “Is this where I’d be staying if I sign on?” He thought about his crappy Miami apartment with the constant odor of fried food and onions that leached through the thin walls, the guy upstairs who liked to practice his drums at three in the morning, and the wheezing air conditioner that barely cooled the place to eighty during the summer, if he was lucky. He could definitely get used to this island paradise.

Carlo shook his head with a smile. “No, service staff have their own quarters on the other side of the island. Not quite as luxurious as this, but still very nice. I’ll show you when we take our tour.”

Once Carlo left, Jace went into the bathroom. There was a large walk-in shower enclosed by glass walls, a huge Jacuzzi tub that would allow even Jace’s six-foot-two frame to settle comfortably, and a partially walled-off area that included the toilet and what Jace recognized as a bidet, though he had no idea how to use it. Small white ceramic tiles covered the walls and floor. In the center of the floor was a beautiful tiled mosaic in cool greens and blues of curved dolphins entwined in a sea dance.

Jace regarded himself in the huge mirror set over the marble and glass sink. “Man,” he said aloud. “Is this place for real?” He thought about the bound guy in the swimming pool, and while his mind struggled to accept the image, his cock hardened at the thought of being placed in that situation. Could he handle it?

And then there was the sex aspect. He thought about Conrad, who had stared hungrily at Jace while another guy was sucking him off. Jace had little doubt he would be offering the same service if he signed on at Club Hieròs.

“Seventy-five thousand dollars,” he whispered to his image. “Seventy-five thousand dollars for three months’ work,” he said in a louder voice. “Holy shit, Thompson, what wouldn’t you do for that kind of cash?”