Saddled, Chapter Eight (Patreon)

John stood between the two rails and shivered as Davidson sprayed him with warm water. Davidson had chained his hands to the rails, but the only horse tack he wore was the bridle and bit. The lack of gear made him uncomfortable in ways he hadn’t expected. For one, he didn’t feel free to kick—which made no sense because John would do a hell of a lot less damage without the horseshoe boots. He knew for a fact that Davidson had more than a few series bruises and a possible broken toe.

But now that John didn’t have on the boots, kicking felt like throwing a childish fit. It made no sense, even in his own head. And for the first time, John felt self-conscious about being naked. He’d spent two days and two nights with his cock hanging in the breeze, but without the harness and boots, he felt naked.

It was like he didn’t fit in his own head anymore. The humiliation of being treated like an animal would be over in a few minutes, but John really worried that the mental rewiring might be harder to shake. 

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Davidson said softly. The man wasn’t prone to swearing, so the words sounded strange coming out of his mouth. The warm spray moved up John’s calves and over his ass before Davidson walked around to the front and sprayed John’s genitals. Given that these were the last few minutes of the contract, John had expected to get fucked again, not washed. But then again, nothing Davidson did matched John’s expectations. As long as John got paid, the rest didn’t matter. Not the tack or the sex or the way John’s cock turned stupid and masochistic when a whip got involved.

All that mattered was getting the money for his mother’s treatment. Logan had agreed to pay for the up-front costs, but John couldn’t ask him to pay for everything. Honestly, John wasn’t sure Logan could. Logan had put up pictures of his massive California home on Facebook, and John suspected that Logan spent as much as he earned.

Davidson put the hose away, and when he turned back to face John, John shifted to hide shield his cock with a thigh.

“I have enjoyed this, but all good things come to an end.”

John ran his tongue over the bit.

Davidson leaned against the hip-high bar he’d chained John to and stared out the open door the field where John had spent a couple of hours yesterday. John was not going to think about the mess he’d been forced to leave in the corner. Bodily functions happened.

“I suppose I should stop procrastinating,” Davidson said with a sigh. He reached over and unbuckled one of John’s hands. “Your clothes are in the blue locker.” With that, he strode out of the room. John had never in his life been more grateful for a little privacy. He quickly pulled his right hand free and then unbuckled his left before taking the bridle off.

The damn thing hadn’t just stolen his voice—it had changed something fundamental in the way he interacted with Davidson, and John dropped it on the concrete floor, flinching when the metal bits jangled. His hands shaking, John rubbed his face and then his scalp, finding all the places where straps had pressed against him, making his skin more sensitive. After a few minutes, he headed for the locker and grabbed his clothes. His billfold was in one pocket and a burner phone in the other. After dressing, he dialed a number that all the less legal assistants memorized. Asha answered.

“This is John checking in from the Davidson place.”

“Do you need anyone to come get you?” she asked. John preferred Asha to some of the other people who manned the phones. She was direct and formal. She never asked how the job went, and on days when it hadn’t gone well, that was the kindest mercy the contact person could offer.

John took a deep breath and tried to judge his body. The shakiness in his hands was already calming. “I’m good. I have my car two miles from here, and I’ll call if the situation changes.”

“Deal. Call if you need anything,” she said.

“Thanks. Bye.” John disconnected and shoved the phone back into his pocket. If he was lucky, he could sneak through the house and leave without seeing Davidson. A lot of clients were shy after the sex ended. Their strange perversions embarrassed them, so as soon as they got their rocks off, they wanted John to disappear. The married men who wanted John to fuck their wives were that way. They may have wanted to indulge in the kink and in one case, enjoyed being tied up in the same bed, but the harsh morning light made them regret it. At least until the next time they called.

That’s probably why most of them booked houses that the agency owned for their sex games. It allowed them to flee the scene of the crime.

The skies had a gray tint that made John suspect a storm might be lurking off shore, but he didn’t have a boat to take out today, so that didn’t matter. He crossed the manicured lawn to the patio doors that led to the study, but they were locked. A pinprick of dread caught John under the ribs. After a job, he was always set on a knife’s edge—expecting the police to show up or some jealous ex to come charging out of the bushes. The paranoia was stupid and Elena would likely fire him if she even suspected he felt that way, but this time the anxiety was stronger. 

A French door stood open, and John headed toward it. His hopes of sneaking out unseen were dashed by the sight of Davidson standing at a kitchen island. “Grab some pastries. If you don’t mind waiting, I can make a passable scrambled egg.”

John stood in the doorway and stared at this strange version of Clive Davidson. 

“I’m good.”

“I don’t want you getting in an accident because you rushed off, especially since this was your first time at equestrian play. It is an intense form of role play.”

John snorted. “Intense is one word. I can think of a few others, but I’ll avoid showing any disrespect, at least until you’ve turned in your evaluation.” John didn’t mention the potential tip he hoped for. True, the payment of $28,000 was on the top end of the pay scale for the agency escorts, but Davidson had wanted an untamed stallion, and John thought he had excelled on that front.

That earned a crooked smile.  “That is why I hire people. If you enjoy it, that’s a bonus, but you don’t expect me to cater to your every whim and if you don’t enjoy it, you remain discreet and professional. I’m still trying to decide which camp you’re in.”

“You haven’t paid for my honest opinion.” And even if he had, John wasn’t sure how he would answer. 

“True. So, take some food.”

“No thank you.”

“It’s not drugged,” Davidson said dryly.

John crossed his arms over his chest. “I wasn’t worried until you said that.” Now John was grateful he carried false identification in his wallet. Kate had taught him that. If a client wanted to get close to you in real life, they’d go for the identification. If there wasn’t any, the client might get more creative in their tracking. However, if you carried a false ID and watched the web for signs of anyone tracing it, that gave you more warning. Kate hadn’t had any trouble with clients since joining the agency, but she had a few hair-raising stories from years past, and when John had first started working at Briarwood, she’d given him a few tips about staying safe.

“You are not worth severing my relationship with the agency, I assure you. And drugging an agency assistant would not severe our ties as much as set fire to them as the first act in a war the agency would likely win. You do know what Elena did before starting the agency, don’t you?”

John had heard a few rumors, but he wasn’t going to get into that with a client. “I hope you were satisfied with the service.”

“Now you sound like an airline attendant.”

“Then I’ll leave and you won’t have to listen.” John headed for the door, but Davidson came out from behind the island and blocked his way. 

“You’re coming out of subspace. Sometimes people have a hard drop.”

John eyed the door and considered shoving past Davidson, but he wasn’t saying anything Elena hadn’t warned him about before he took the job. She’d been painfully detailed about the way even a good sex scene could end badly, and she hadn’t expected John to enjoy the weekend. He wondered if she would have given him a different speech if she’d suspected he was going to come more often than Davidson had. “I’m fine.”

Something shifted in Davidson’s expression. “Then stop acting like an ass, eat something with some sugar, and stop ruining the afterglow of a perfectly satisfactory weekend.”

“Satisfactory?” John had given up his gay virginity, and that’s the best he rated.

“Don’t fish for compliments when you know I enjoyed it,” Davidson said with disgust. “Now eat something because I don’t want you getting the shakes ten minutes from now and driving off a cliff.” They stared at each other. John could have overpowered Davidson, but he took a step back.

Davidson nodded and headed back to the island as if he was as anxious for a little distance as John. “Did you want eggs?”

“Nah. I’m good.” John claimed a Boston cream donut. “I could use a coffee.”

“Cream? Sugar?”

“Black.”

“Ah, you are masculine, even in your coffee order. You are in danger of turning into a stereotype.”

“Doubt it,” John said as he considered what they’d just finished doing. A masculine man would not let someone tie them up and fuck them. Hell, John doubted many men would allow that at all, even gay ones. While John didn’t have a lot of experience with gay men in general, he had a gay brother, and Logan would chew off his own arm to avoid letting someone else take control.

Davidson brought him coffee, and they both focused on drinking. It was as useful as a bridle and bit for avoiding conversation. John mentally did the math on his bills. He could save out three thousand for the mortgage, taxes, boat payment and slip fees. Thank god he didn’t live farther south because the piers in Massachusetts and Connecticut and even Rhode Island were stupidly expensive. That was one reason to appreciate Maine winters. It drove off most of the people with more money than common sense. That left him twenty five to put toward his mother’s hospital bills. Logan had signed a contract, but he hadn’t yet put the money down, and that would make Elena happy.

Sometimes when he had a large paycheck coming, he would have to spread the money out over weeks or even months. Elena’s true brilliance didn’t lie in running an escort service or even in running a one-stop market for all services the wealthy might need. No, money laundering was her talent.

Normally John would do three or four jobs a month, and she would spin the payments out into a dozen different jobs. She would list him as consulting with an author on authenticity when writing about the fishing industry. Several clients supposedly paid him for taking them out on the boat, while another would list him as security at an event. In the end, Elena juggled all the fees clients paid and all the payments assistants received so that no accountant could trace it.

And she further confused the finances by sending him legitimate jobs. John had a nice side business in taking rich kids out for a day and showing them the pain and pride of hard physical labor. And when a television show had been in Bangor filming, Elena sent him to be a consultant with a firm rule about not pointing out all the mistakes until someone asked for his opinion. John trusted her to have his back and hide the money trail when it came to his prostitution. However, this time Elena could avoid all the financial backflips and send donations straight to the hospital in his mother’s name.

Medical bills were a deduction for the company, and Elena loved being able to take assistants’ pay off her taxes. So Davidson could give her the money, and she could send a check straight through to the hospital for twenty-five thousand.

John would have to make up an explanation for Logan—maybe something about him cashing in a retirement account with the company—but lies were easier to come up with than money. 

His cup empty, John put it down and stood. “I should be going.”

“Do you need a ride?”

“I’m fine,” John assured him. Maybe Davidson was feeling his own version of subspace where he couldn’t stop trying to pet and tame John, but the scene was over, and it was time for John to get on with real life. He headed for the door, and this time Davidson didn’t get in his way.

Chapter 9: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-17047062 

Chapter 10: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-17637933 

Chapter 11: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-18483089 

Chapter 12: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-18786045 

Chapter 13 and 14: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapters-18974026 

Chapter 15: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-19132781 

Chapter 16: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-19490176 

Chapter 17: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-19634666