roland stayed with Sir Marc/Daddy that night. It was late, and he was tired, but also... when Daddy wrapped him up in his beefy, strong arms, and he felt Daddy's hair rubbing up against his smooth back, he was hard, again. Marc held him very tight that night, and from time to time, he would reach down and gently, very gently, finger fuck roland. Through sleep haze, he would whisper "gotta keep you ready."
What followed, for roland, was a whirlwind. The second day, Marc got dressed and gave roland a look: "You can leave whenever you like, if you like. I'll trust you not to steal anything, because I think you wouldn't, and I'm a good judge of character. If you stay, we'll go to your place and pick up your things, and you'll move in here for the rest of the week. I'll explain what I expect, and then you'll have one more chance to leave,,. If you choose not to, then I will expect total obedience. Am I clear?" roland's voice was very low as he tried to take this all in. "Yes Daddy. Very clear." Marc came over, gave him a kiss on the forehead, and said "I suspect not too many people tell you how good looking you are. You're DAMN good looking." He kissed roland again. "I'll be back in about four hours." Then he was gone.
The first thing roland did after Marc left, was to burst into tears. He had called roland "good looking." Marc was right: NO ONE had called him good looking since he was a little boy and lived with his parents. He had been called "a helluva good lay," "hot as a pistol," and things like that, but as he thought back, no one had called him 'good looking' or given him such a gentle kiss on his head. Given the way Marc had taken him, both on the leash and in bed, roland had a pretty good idea of what he would be getting into if he stayed. He'd ask Marc if Marc let him speak. Did he want this? As he was thinking, he felt his stomach grumble. Marc hadn't said anything about food, and he would be gone for four hours. roland was hungry. He saw the room service menu. Could he? What would happen? Marc clearly wanted him to stay. He ordered a classic French breakfast: the soft cooked egg, the croissants, the fruit, the coffee, and he felt nauseous as soon as he picked up the phone. "Oui Monsieur roland," answered the concierge. "Monsieur Marc had instructed us to make sure you had breakfast, and we were about to check to see if you were ready." roland remembered back to school: the story of Persephone, and how once she had eaten the seeds of the pomegranate, she was doomed to return to Hades every year. "Allors," he thought to himself. "I've already taken Daddy's seed," as he wolfed down the breakfast.
"AH. You're still here. And you've had breakfast? " "Oui Daddy. I was afraid you would mind." "My fault. I was thinking about four or five things this morning, and I didn't think of breakfast. Have you had a shower?" "I had a hot bath Daddy. I hope that's ok." "Of course. " Marc smiled. "I have been thinking, all day, of the splits that you do on stage, You're gonna do one for me now. Get on the bed." "Oui Daddy," roland answered He felt the silk necktie restraints going around his wrists and then he felt Marc's strong hands on his ankles, spreading him like a fan. "AH. You ARE flexible. And what a pretty ass. I didn't see it well last night. But this morning.... I can treat it just the way I treat a profiterole." Marc laughed as he dove into roland's ass with his tongue. roland gasped. He did not expect that from Daddy, nor did he expect him to be as good at it as he was. And he kept his tongue in roland for a while, sliding back and forth, pushing in, pulling out, as roland did what he could to get more. "Daddy. Daddy please. I will ejaculate again if you keep that up. And before you. That should not be." Marc began to chuckle. "I thought I was going to have to train you more, but I guess not." Then he shoved his cock into roland as he kept roland's legs spread wide and fucked him again. He wasn't gentle, but this one was less, well, violent, than the first one. When he was done, he looked at roland. "How far away do you live?" "It cannot be reached by walking Daddy, I am afraid." "We'll have a taxi. Let me call Pierre at the desk. But we will have a coffee first. You need to understand what I'm asking for.
Over coffee, Marc told roland that he was looking for a boy who was a little bit on the "sissy" side, to be his bottom and submissive partner. He would live with Marc, in the United States. He wouldn't have to work: his duties would be at home, where Marc lived alone - or with the new boy, if roland wished to come. roland would be expected to provide sex whenever Marc required it, to do what he was told, and to essentially be the cute server when Marc entertained. There might be times when Marc would wish to offer roland's mouth to a friend, but his ass would belong to Marc, exclusively.
"You will not lack for money. You'll study English with a tutor every day, and I will expect you to keep in shape from the gym. The rest we will work out. " He stopped. "It is your choice roland. I am here in France until the weekend. Shall we go to your place and get your things?" roland looked down. It amazed him that he answered the way he did, but he answered "Yes daddy."
And now, less than a week later, roland had told his parents that he was going to New York to do a show there. It was very last minute, so he couldn't get home to visit them before he left. He called the company and told them that he would be gone for a while, and not to worry. Marc paid roland's landlord for the rest of his lease, up front, much to Mademoiselle Francine's delight, and roland moved into Marc's hotel room first, and now, he was boarding a plane . He and Marc still spoke French to each other, although occasionally, if Marc remembered a phrase he had used in English (he had started teaching roland himself), he'd use it. "I've never flown in an airplane before Sir Marc," roland said as they took their business class seats "It's kind of amazing when you think about it. In less than 9 hours you"ll be in New York." "C'est vrai?" roland's eyes were wide. "Ha ha. Oui. You should feel free to sleep if you like. There really isn't much to see until we get closer, and I'll wake you when there's something. But if you'd like to stay up..." "Champagne monsieurs?" asked the flight attendant. "Oui, merci," answered Marc. It wasn't crystal, but he touched glasses with roland. "To your new life." "To my Daddy," roland answered.
roland always remembered the approach to New York. Marc had woken him as they broke through clouds and the water, and the patchy land that was New York came through. "It seems almost like Camargue, Sir Marc" roland observed, and Marc laughed. "No salt marshes, as far as I know, and no horses running wild, but ... well, there's enough wildlife." He had lived with Marc now for six months. His day was fairly standard: after Marc left for work (he was an attorney at a big law firm), roland's English teacher would arrive. He was the son of one of Marc's law partners, and he took a shine to roland right away; roland, however, had clear instructions: if Marc every caught him with another man, he'd send him back to France cheapest way possible. That was not a problem in the case of this very thin, very blond man who reminded roland of some of the women he worked with at the dance companies. Marc kept him extremely satsifed sexually too. Maybe TOO satisfied. When Marc came home, he was almost always ready for sex, with roland on his back, his legs spread, and Marc's thick cock taking him. After that, there was the bondage. Marc didn't let roland cum during sex, but after they were done, and he had roland tied up, roland was given an hour to squirm around and try to escape. He never did, which meant a penalty: sometimes tickling his very ticklish pits, sometimes his feet, and sometimes, if he hadn't climaxed when struggling, a s............l...................o..................w edging from his Daddy. Sometimes, if Daddy were in the mood, he let roland wear his spiderman costume, and he'd tie roland up as if he were a captured superhero, and torture him for information. During the day, after Brett (his tutor) had left, roland was responsible for keepinghi the house clean, for buying the supplies that were needed, and eve eventually, for cooking. roland learned, very early, that Marc was extremely possessive. And jealous. They had gone out to dinner one night, and Marc had wanted roland to practice his English. roland couldn't help it: he had grown up flirting, and he did again. The SMACK he got from Marc when they got home , followed by the second one, was the start. Then, after Marc had pinned him to the bed, and through gritted teeth had asked. "Who's the BITCH in this relationship? Who's the FUCKING CUNT," roland had whined "I am Daddy. I am sorry I disappointed you." Marc had roland's balls in his hand and he squeezed. "I will have no trouble having these cut off. Do you understand?" "Yes sir. I do. Yes Daddy. Again, I am sorry. " The second time he pissed off Marc, was the time he decided to surprise him. He dyed his hair blond. He actually looked very good: the light colored, tight shirts he wore, and his natural coloring, all complimented the blond color. He was smiling when Marc came home. "Bon soir Daddy?" roland smiled, and opened another button on his shirt as Marc walked in. "Would Daddy like a foot massage?" Marc was turning red as he stood there. "WHAT DADDY WOULD LIKE IS A FUCKING EXPLANATION. WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE?" roland began to quiver. "Daddy, I am sorry. I thought you would like it. I'll have it removed tomorrow. " "YOU WILL DO NOTHING OF THE KIND, BITCH. I LIKE IT. BUT I DO NOT LIKE YOU DOING THIS WITHOUT MY PERMISSION. " He paused. "Get on the bed. On your belly." "Yes daddy," roland was confused. He felt the ropes go around his ankles. Then his shins, his thights. He felt Marc push his legs up and tie his thighs and shins together. It began to hurt even the former dancer. Marc tied roland's wrists, and then his elbows together. "OPEN YOUR MOUTH BITCHBOI." Marc rolled up a sock and stuffed it into roland's mouth. Then he taped it in place. "Oh, I wanna tickle the shit outta you more than anything else. But no, I got other plans for you. You'll learn not to take liberties Frenchie. " He began playing with roland's nipples. roland's shirt had opened while Marc was tying him, and they were just out there, begging for torment. Marc took two clamps, not joined by a chain, and put them on roland's tits. "Go ahead. Try to squirm to get friction so you can cum. Ha ha. Do that, and your tits'll be on fire. " Marc came back in half an hour and untied roland sufficiently so that he could get into his ass. One finger, then two, went in. as roland "mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmphed" into the gag. Marc's thrusts that night were angry and short. After he left a HUGE load in roland's ass, he grabbed a butt plug. "You're gonna sit with THAT in your ass through dinner tonight. Maybe you'll wear it to sleep.' "mmmmmmmmmmmmmph." roland was trying to say "yes daddy," but the gag was too strong. After dinner, Marc had another game. He tied roland to the chair, his hands at his side. Then he poured a glass of the port that he knew roland loved. He put it in front of him. "Now let me see you drink it roland. Let me see you drink it without spilling a drop." As roland tried to get his tongue in the glass, Marc howled with laughter. "LOOK AT THAT. Just like a French giraffe. Maybe YOU should be eating MY ass . " roland did not quite understand why he was so hard that night when Marc took him in his arms as they went to sleep.
It was the next day that he met Sebastian - the second sub of our story. Brent had called that morning and apologized. He was not feeling well, and he didn't want to spread germs to roland. Marc had smiled. "Well, perhaps if you get your tasks completed, you can do something like visit the museum. It's not the Louvre, but it's second best." "Yes Daddy. I will do that. I would like to see some art." In fact roland, who had always been a very social person, was missing more varied human contact. There was Daddy, of course, and Brent, and the people who came in and out of the apartment, and the tradespeople when he did the shopping, but he had no friends, no contacts, none of what he had in France. Maybe just being around people in the museum would help. It did. roland spent most of his time people watching rather than looking at the art. When he did look at the paintings, he realized that he didn't have enough English yet, to understand what was written. As he was puzzling out one ornate golden necklace, he heard a warm voice, speaking.... was it French? He looked up. There was a crowd, not far away: maybe 15 people? There was a young, handsome man: thick dark hair, cut short, in a blue blazer, a white shirt, and a tie, and he was giving a talk to what appeared to be French tourists. roland hadn't heard French outside of his lessons with Brent since he had come to NY with Daddy. He smiled. Maybe he could pretend to be part of the group. The young man saw him and said, in French "welcome back Pierre," and roland smiled. The boy was cute: He wasn't really a "boy:" he was about roland's age, but since Sir Marc called roland his "boy," he thought of everyone that age as a boy. He waited until the lecture was over. Then he introduced himself to the young man. "You aren't part of the group, are you?" the young man smiled. "No. But you were speaking such beautiful French, and I moved here six months ago and... I missed it." The young man smiled. "AH, Yes, your accent is the real deal. Not like mine. I'm Sebastian. Nice to meet you." He offered a hand. "I am roland," he replied, and Sebastian squinted. "OH, I know who you are. You're the dancer. I never got to see you when I was in France. IN TWO YEARS. I went from library to school to library. That was it." "You studied in France?" "Oui. I was studying for my doctorate in Impressionism. I finally got it three months ago, and got a job here." "Well, congratulations Dr. Sebastian," roland laughed. "It must have been hard." Sebastian shook his head. "You've only been here six months, roland. NY can be so wonderful, but it can be so hard." He smiled. "I like speaking French with a real Frenchman. This may be overreaching but... can you sit for a coffee with me?" roland looked down and blushed. "Please don't take that the wrong way roland.." "No, no.. Sebastian, I would... I would love to but... How do I explain this.. My... my..." "Husband?" Sebastian ventured, and roland laughed. "No, no. Hardly. But I see, you will understand. My daddy.... he " Sebastian laughed. "Say no more, mon frere. I have one of those myself. It took a long bit of negotiating before I was allowed to spend time with men without him around. Perhaps another time." He smiled. "I would like that, Sebastian. I do not have business cards, but...." "I do..." Sebastian smiled. "I work at this place. " He handed roland a card that said "Sebastian Deutsch. Assistant Curator, European Paintings" "ASSISTANT CURATOR. I'm impressed." Sebastian laughed. "Don't be. It means I get the coffee for the tenured staff, give the tourist tours, and try to make myself look busy. " He lowered his voice. "And I do my best to hide things like these." He showed roland the rope burn marks on his wrists. "I showed them to you because I saw yours. I didn't look until after you said you had a Daddy. " roland laughed. "We really ARE brothers, aren't we?" "I guess so. You know, talk to your Daddy. Maybe we can just have coffee, with the daddies there, or something, I don't know. But tell him. If he's like mine, he'll know. " "It was so nice to meet you Sebastian. I didn't think my tutor being sick today would turn out so well." Sebastian winked at roland. roland felt nothing sexual, he was just glad to have a friend.