Work Text:
Davos arranged the clothespins on the table into two neat rows.
Stannis wasn’t due for another fifteen minutes, and Davos was nearly ready. The man was punctual, almost eerily so. Usually by this point, a client had been a few minutes late at least once or twice. (Sometimes by accident, sometimes on purpose to incite punishment.) Stannis had never been late.
Davos was very familiar with having long-term clients. He had been in the business for far longer than most, rivaled only by Chataya herself, and had his little black book of regulars. Some of Davos’ clients had been coming to him for more than a decade now, had made the transition from his old life to his new life at Chataya’s Exchange in order to continue being dominated by him.
Truth be told, Davos liked schedules and reliable clients. In his younger years it hadn’t mattered, now he liked the security of a string of appointments he could set his watch to. For one thing, it made tax season much more manageable.
Still, for some reason, he was starting to eagerly anticipate Stannis’ sessions. The man had only been a client for six weeks, and Davos already felt for him in a similar way that he felt for his decades-long valued clients. A combination of trust, polite amusement, and a desire to indulge them in whatever they wanted. (After putting them through their paces, of course.)
It was strange, how quickly things had been moving between them. Stannis, a newcomer to the scene, probably didn’t know, but it was unusual for a dom to communicate via personal text messages about the details of upcoming sessions with clients. Davos gave out the number to his work phone sparingly, yet he’d texted Stannis after their very first session. Concern over a man who’d had such a vanilla past, maybe. Davos had regretted sending the text instantly, but the ensuing banter with Stannis had been … well, fun. For such a tightly-wound man, Stannis was surprisingly amusing when he wanted to be.
And it was endearing, to have this cocky, confident businessman, the one who was secretly running one of the biggest American technology companies (oh yes, Davos had done his homework, as he did on all his clients whenever possible), to have him blushing like a teenager and begging.
There were many things Davos liked about his job, and getting to tell powerful men to strip, and being obeyed, was at the top of the list. He’d never had a Senator as a client, but he had once had the man who was to become the Governor of the state in his room, twice, kneeling and counting out strokes from a riding crop. Davos still got off on that memory, and he wasn’t even slightly ashamed about it.
For all that Stannis was inexperienced, he certainly knew what he wanted. Sure, he’d stutter it out, halting phrases detailing exactly what he wanted and how he wanted it done, but he was articulate enough about his boundaries and desires that Davos could understand him perfectly. With some clients, especially the less experienced ones, getting hard limits and personal preferences was like pulling teeth. Davos was good, but going in blind was always a stressful experience for a dom.
And Stannis was obedient too. Davos had suspected, initially, that Stannis had been lying about never submitting to anyone before. He folded like he’d been at this for years, responded to commands almost like a soldier, and he took his punishments to a nigh ridiculous degree. If he’d been younger and smiled more easily, he could have given lads like Satin a run for their money as a paid submissive.
Now, though, Davos was certain that Stannis had never done something like this before. After several sessions he got to know his clients quite well, either through talking with them, reading their body language, or a combination of both. Stannis was very guarded on certain subjects, exactly what he did at his job for example, but on others he was an open book. His resentment and envy of his brothers simmered to the surface quite easily. His frustrations with being unable to maintain a social life beyond his co-workers and a few distant college acquaintances had been mentioned a few times in passing. His shame and guilt over paying someone for a partially sexual relationship had flared up occasionally, in glances and reactions.
Those flare-ups had occurred less and less often, the longer their sessions had continued. Davos expected that they would cease altogether eventually. If a client had not fled by the third session, they had usually accepted their kinks to a degree with which Davos could work. Stannis still had some hang-ups, but that was only natural. He might have them for the rest of his life. Davos was often more therapist than dom, but even he had limits to what he could accomplish.
Fifteen minutes later, Stannis had his wrists bound and strung up above his head, a long strip of clothespins pinching his skin along his side. They were laced with a black ribbon, which Davos slowly pulled away, removing one pin after another.
Stannis hissed in pain, moaned eventually, and had a long string of interesting bruises down either side of his chest.
Davos smiled. Stannis liked marks, reminders of his sessions during the week, and Davos had endeavored to give him new sensations to experience. The clips had been Asha’s suggestion, and if he was any judge, they had been a great success.
~*~
The penny fell, again.
“That’s another three minutes.” Davos made a disappointed sound with his tongue. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re doing that on purpose.”
Stannis scrambled to retrieve the penny from the floor. He pressed it against the wall with his nose, raised his arms above his head, and closed his eyes, waiting.
Davos took the opportunity to look him over. Stannis was still wearing his suit. He had a late meeting tonight, so this session was, by necessity, light on the impact play and painful marks. Stannis had insisted on keeping his appointment, however, which Davos felt a little flattered about. Clients often rescheduled due to work, and usually regretted it, feeling out of sorts and on edge during their next session.
After another five minutes, the penny dropped. Stannis crouched to retrieve it and Davos reached down, grabbing Stannis by the tie.
“Leave it,” he said simply.
Stannis froze.
Davos didn’t say anything, he only yanked, forcing Stannis to crawl after him on hands and knees. It was a good look on him, one that Davos would have to remember for the future.
“Earned yourself a reward, for taking your punishment so well.” Davos muttered, casting about for something. He’d had some concepts before this session, but he often improvised with clients he’d previously had multiple sessions with before. If he knew their limits and preferences, the risks were low.
An idea began to form. Davos yanked the blanket off of a spanking bench, a different one than he’d used before with Stannis during their first session. This one looked more like a footrest, a curving arch of black leather and wood, with a padded shelf for the sub’s knees cut into the side. There was a bar on the other side, for the sub to hold onto, or be chained to if necessary.
Stannis climbed up onto the bench without having to be told, knees slightly spread, arms curled over the arch of black leather and grasping at the bar.
“Now, I know you don’t want marks today, but I think you deserve a nice spanking.”
Stannis shivered, ever so slightly.
Davos smiled. “And you think so too. Well, cane’s right out, so are the floggers. And you don’t like paddles.” He waited, to see if Stannis would prompt him, ask for it directly.
“Would you … could you use your … your hand?” Stannis asked softly. He seemed hesitant to voice it, as if speaking the possibility aloud would ruin his chances.
“I can, if you want me to.” This wasn’t exactly typical, laying hands on a client in an intimate manner was toeing the legal line, but it wasn’t unusual. They’d had several sessions, Stannis had enjoyed the cane and the floggers, and Davos was an experienced dom.
“I … I would. Please. Sir.” Stannis sounded breathless already and they hadn’t even begun.
“Remember the rules,” Davos said, though it was unnecessary. Stannis always remembered, always begged permission, was always clear and precise.
“Yes sir.”
Davos judged the distance, swinging his arm back and forth without actually touching Stannis.
Stannis had taken off his jacket and shoes earlier, but nothing else. Davos could see his shoulder muscles tensing underneath his shirt.
“Relax. This is your reward, remember.”
Stannis’ shoulders relaxed slightly.
Davos brought his hand down, hard, an audible SLAP.
Stannis jolted. “One,” he gasped out.
Davos tried to vary his strikes, alternating from side to side. He favored his right hand, despite being ambidextrous, and started to use his left hand a bit more. Both hands were stinging before too long. Davos couldn’t help but think about the differences between doing this with a client and doing this with a romantic partner outside of the club. As recently as last year he’d been seeing someone who’d loved getting spanked. Davos had used to intersperse the strikes with strokes, reached around to ensure his partner had been getting off in a timely fashion.
“Sir … sir please … I …” Stannis’ voice had taken on that strained quality that it always got when he was on the verge of coming.
“Going to come in your pants like a teenager?” Davos huffed a laugh. “What’ll you do? Go back to your nice office, have your meetings, looking all proper on the outside, knowing that underneath you’re a right mess?” Davos leaned over, not touching him, but breathing on Stannis’ neck. “Knowing that you’re … dirty?”
Stannis moaned, shuddering, still clinging to the bar, and came.
Davos straightened up, blinking. He’d been unsure whether that would actually work, whether Stannis would want that. Of course, he’d had his suspicions, but it wasn’t until the words had spilled out of his mouth and Stannis’ reaction had been visible that Davos had known for certain.
Stannis panted, pushing himself up on his elbows on the bench, visibly flushed. His suit was slightly wrinkled, but he would be presentable for his meetings.
“How are you?” Davos asked, as Stannis got shakily to his feet.
“Wonderful. That was …” Stannis blushed, looking away. “You always know … exactly what I need. Even if I didn’t know it myself.”
Davos felt a blush rising to his own cheeks. “Thank you,” he said. “I try, but … it’s good to know I’m succeeding.”
“You are.” Stannis began smoothing at his suit.
“Here,” Davos handed him a water bottle. “And you’d better eat something before your meeting. Don’t want to experience subdrop during some important corporate presentation.”
“No, no that would be most inappropriate.” Stannis sipped at the water.
That evening, dinner plates soaking in the sink, Davos crawled into his bed. He wondered how Stannis’ meeting had gone. He wondered what Stannis had done when he’d gotten home and peeled off his underwear.
Davos was half-hard and had his hand around his cock before he realized he was wanking while thinking about a current client.
~*~
“Proudwing.”
Davos froze, arm drawn back for another strike.
He set down the whip and circled around to face Stannis, who was strung up from the ceiling again, spreader bars at his ankles and wrists. It was a recurring position that Stannis enjoyed, and allowed for many creative scenes.
Stannis had gone very pale. He was sweating, but more so than usual. His fingers were twitching and his breathing was erratic.
“Do you know where you are?” Davos asked, voice even and soft.
“Yes.” Stannis’ eyes were squeezed shut. “Chataya’s Exchange.”
“I’m going to let you down now. I’m going to have to touch you. If you want, I can just undo one of the wrist cuffs and you can free yourself.”
“No!” Stannis shook his head. “Just … please … I need … I need out …”
Davos worked quickly, making sure not to touch Stannis more than was necessary. He helped Stannis down, onto the blanket, and removed the ankle spreader bar.
“Do you want me to dim the lights a bit?”
“Yes, please.”
Davos did. He returned with water. “Are you thirsty?”
“Yes. Thank you.” Stannis sipped slowly. His breathing was already steadier.
Davos sat on the floor, back to the wall, making sure not to sit in such a way that blocked the door from Stannis. Perception was everything in a triggering situation, even if Stannis didn’t fully understand that he wanted to escape, having an exit blocked might cause him further anxiety and increase his sense of being trapped.
“May I speak, or do you want silence?” Davos asked, once Stannis was halfway finished with the water.
“Just … a moment, please.” Stannis sighed heavily.
Davos nodded, and stayed silent. Once, a client had called their safeword during a session, and they’d spent the last forty minutes sitting in complete silence. Davos had never found out what had happened, and the client had returned for his appointment the next week at the same time as if nothing had changed. He had also had clients who had called out their safeword and shrugged it off as something they simply hadn’t enjoyed, and resumed their session shortly afterwards. Then there were clients who launched into long explanations of exactly why that certain aspect had upset them.
“I’m under a great deal of pressure at work.” Stannis said at last. It was not the first time he had said it, but there was a certain heaviness to his voice now that had not been there before.
Davos decided to take a risk. “Would you like to talk about it?”
Stannis huffed a laugh, tension still prominent in his shoulders. “Are you a therapist or a dominatrix?”
“Both, if you like,” Davos shrugged. “I do see you for weekly appointments. And there’s not much that will shock me.” Davos smiled.
Stannis smiled back, thinly, but it was a smile. A rarity on that face, Davos could tell.
Davos waited, to see if Stannis was going to be forthcoming. He found himself hoping that Stannis would open up, just a little, about his concerns at work. It would only help Davos to make his sessions more enjoyable, to know Stannis’ current state of mind.
“There is a … question of leadership, at my company. The current CEO is being ousted, and a new one must take his place. I would very much like to be that new CEO. But there are … complications.” Stannis spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. Whether he was having trouble voicing his concerns, or simply wanted to avoid revealing too many company secrets, Davos wasn’t entirely certain.
“Pressure,” Davos repeated.
“Yes.”
“More meetings, I expect. Trying to prove yourself to the … what, the board of directors?”
“Indeed.”
“And slipping up is a sign of weakness that they’ll fixate on, and your opponents will use to try and tear you down.”
Stannis eyed him suspiciously. “What is your background, exactly? You’re not some disgraced CEO, are you?”
Davos snorted. “No, I just watch a lot of legal dramas. One of my sons writes for a network.” He caught himself, biting his lip: he’d never mentioned his children to his clients before.
Stannis seemed to understand that Davos hadn’t meant to share so much. He didn’t push for more. “Well, you have the general picture. I try to leave my concerns at the door but today … I suppose I just couldn’t escape it completely.” He scowled, teeth grinding.
“Don’t do that,” Davos said, without thinking.
Stannis stopped.
Davos winced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to … we’re stopped now, I shouldn’t be ordering you to do anything.”
“No, it’s … fine.” Stannis leaned back. “I should stop that. My dentist says I’m paying for her children’s college funds.”
They lapsed into a comfortable silence.
“I’ve never asked, but, how would you feel about extending some of this … outside these walls?” Davos asked. He was taking a chance here.
Stannis blinked. “I leave with marks, we exchange messages already. What are you suggesting?”
“Orders. Nothing too … explicit. But I have an idea that might appeal to you.”
Stannis frowned. “Tell me.”
Davos raised an eyebrow.
“… please.” Stannis amended.
Davos grinned, before settling into a more serious expression. “What if I ordered you to get to sleep at a certain hour, every night, until your CEO business is resolved?”
Stannis stared at him.
“Do you think that would help you?” Davos asked. “I’m suggesting it because I’ve done similar things for clients before.”
“And has it helped them?”
“Some yes, some no. Depends on the circumstances. You’ve got a lot of willpower; I think if you put your mind to it, you could manage.”
Stannis frowned, staring at the floor.
“Look, forget it, I –”
“I would like to try that. Please.” Stannis said, meeting Davos’ eyes unexpectedly. “If it doesn’t work, I lose nothing. If it does work, that could be extremely beneficial.”
Davos nodded. “Alright then. When do you wake up normally?”
“7am.”
Davos mentally calculated. “Ok … until this CEO business is resolved, I order you to go to sleep at 11:30pm, every night. You will inform me of any infractions, and be punished for them. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Stannis was staring down at his bare feet.
“Look at me and say that again.”
Stannis did. “Yes, sir.”
Davos smiled. “Alright then.”
~*~
Davos put his feet up on one of the empty chairs in the break room and sketched out concept ideas for his next session with Stannis. Stannis wanted to be suspended entirely off of the ground, and already Davos was plotting on ways to make that work.
Asha came into the break room and sat down, pulling at the laces and buckles of her boots. “Christ, feels good to unlace for a minute. Murder boots, I swear.”
“And yet you keep wearing them.” Davos said, not looking up from his plans.
“You’re really pulling out all the stops for this one.” Asha raised an eyebrow, looking over Davos’ notebook. “Must be special. He offer to do your taxes for free?”
“What? No, why did you assume that?”
Asha shrugged. “I had a client who did that. Very useful, accountants.” Asha grinned. “He wanted me to crush pens under my boots so he could roll around in the ink. Pens can you imagine? Needed to invest in some heavy clunkers to squish even the cheapest pens I could get my hands on. Lord, he loved it though. And saved me a mountain of stress come Tax Season.” Asha stretched languidly. “Well, I’m off. Got a 4:30 with the Leech Lord.”
Davos shuddered. “Him again?”
“I know, such a shock that he needs to pay beautiful women to satisfy his incredibly specific desires.” Asha smirked. “If people learned to just sit down and talk to each other about their kinks on first dates, we’d be out of jobs.” Asha tightened her laces and rolled her shoulders. “He’s polite, hasn’t asked to buy my panties, and he tips well. For what he’s paying every hour, I’ll stick whatever he wants wherever he wants it.”
“Good luck.”
“Luck is for people who don’t have years of experience!” Asha gave Davos a wave as she left.
Davos got back to his notebook, scribbling down ideas. Then he stopped, mid-stroke, and set down his pen.
He really was giving Stannis more attention than his other clients. It was unusual. Asha didn’t pry into his life or even his sessions unless he volunteered information, and their conversations had been about Stannis overwhelmingly in the past two months. The fact that she had noted it, and commented on it, was important. They’d been friends for a good number of years. If Asha had noticed, something was different.
Davos thought about the last few months.
Stannis, huddled on the floor, panting, cock painfully hard.
Stannis, blushing and staring at the floor while describing exactly what he wanted done to him inside the room.
Stannis, whimpering and letting Davos cover his back in welts and begging for more.
Stannis, looking Davos in the eye after each session and shaking his hand oh god …
Davos jolted, a horrified expression creeping over his face.
“Oh … oh no …”
Asha was going to laugh herself sick.
He’d passed off that night where he’d started wanking while thinking about Stannis as an aberration, a foolish mistake after a long day.
Davos was not one of those people. The sort that fell for clients. It was … it was tacky, was what it was. Tacky and foolish, and dangerous if you fell for the wrong client.
Any client was “the wrong client” truth be told, but some were more dangerous than others.
College girls fell for clients. College girls who were only dabbling to pay the bills, and quit once they found a steady boyfriend who disliked their job, and forced them to quit. Sometimes the girls came back, well rid of the boyfriend, and became quite successful, but most of them stayed away.
People who’d watched Pretty Woman too many times, or had gotten into this business because of that London Call Girl show, they fell for clients.
Not Davos. Davos was smart, and stable, and perfectly content in his job, and he’d only watched Pretty Woman with Asha after a night of truly embarrassing drinking.
But Stannis was … Stannis.
Davos groaned and thumped his head against the table. It didn’t magically make his inconvenient feelings for a client vanish into thin air, but it had been worth a shot.
~*~
Davos made the decision to do something about his inconvenient feelings while hoisting Stannis up into the air.
Suspension bondage wasn’t something to be taken lightly. It was a dangerous thing to attempt for even experienced practitioners, and could lead to all manner of injuries. Davos had only agreed to lift Stannis a few inches off the ground, no more than six, and still he could feel his blood pressure rising.
Stannis, however, was delighted. Or, as delighted as he ever was outwardly. The man was not generous with his smiles. Davos had only seen Stannis grin properly a handful of times over the past six months of their sessions, and he got the impression that they were a rarity even outside of Chataya’s Exchange.
Davos had refused to suspend Stannis by his wrists alone. Instead, Davos had proposed an elaborate network of loops, binding Stannis’ arms to his back and the rope supporting him at the waist and shoulders, spreading out the weight distribution. As the result had provided more constrictive bondage, Stannis had agreed.
Sweating and swaying in the air, Stannis looked downright serene, a dreamy expression on his face that was usually only coaxed out by a heavy session of caning.
And it was as Davos tied off the end of the rope, watched Stannis swaying a few inches off the ground, that he realized he wanted to do more. More than their sessions. More than what was legally allowed in Chataya’s Exchange.
He wanted to wrap his hand around Stannis’ cock and make him come, not just order him, physically make him. He wanted to get down on his own knees for once and suck Stannis off, because he already knew the sounds that Stannis made when he was close and they were so perfect. He wanted to bend Stannis over that desk Asha used for her student/teacher roleplays and fuck him, not just tease him with a cane or a flogger but fuck him, so hard that Stannis would be limping all through the next day and everyone at that damn office would notice and know.
Davos held himself together through the rest of the session, helped Stannis down, made certain the blood flowing to his hands wasn’t impeded, and sent him off with the usual handshake.
Then he locked the door, put on one of the condoms from the box in the cabinet, and brought himself off.
Davos officially had a problem. And there was really only one person he could ask for advice.
~*~
“How do you do it?” Davos asked Satin when they were alone in the break room a few days after the suspension session.
Satin looked up from his book and raised an eyebrow. “You’ll have to be more specific, love.”
Davos didn’t comment on the fact that Satin was a few decades too young to be calling Davos ‘love’ for his level of comfort. That wasn’t important right now.
“You … your clients … outside of Chataya’s …” Davos wasn’t exactly close with Satin. They knew each other, chatted occasionally, but they weren’t friends. He wasn’t entirely sure how to discuss this with him. “… you aren’t exactly strictly legal with them, right?”
“Not as such, no,” Satin shrugged. “They pay me to sub for them. If I decide to go a little above and beyond the call of duty, well, if I get cab fare home afterwards, that’s our business, none of the police’s concern. Why the sudden curiosity?” Stain smiled. “I hate to break it to you, but going freelance at your age –”
“I have a client,” Davos ignored the jab at his age. He made more than the average freelancer, in a secure facility, with steady clients and a clean room. He could put up with a few snide comments about his age, because older doms were hard to come by and much desired. “And I’m developing … I’m … he’s …” Davos sighed.
“Feelings for a client?”
“Yes.”
Satin put his book down. “Oh, hon,” he leaned forward. “You should’ve come to me sooner. Let me guess: tall, scowly and straight-laced?”
Davos frowned, but there was really only one client of his to whom those descriptors could apply. “… yes.”
“You fuck him yet?”
Davos blinked “What? No! Of course not!”
Satin shrugged. “I gotta ask. I don’t just mean here, I mean, like, his car, his office, your place … you haven’t fucked him yet?”
“No. I’ve never even seen him outside this place.”
“Ok, ok, that’s good.” Satin nodded, biting his lip contemplatively. “And when did you start … developing these feelings?”
“I’m … I’m not sure.” Davos confessed. “I have a certain fondness for all of my clients, really. It wasn’t until recently that I began to notice it was … more, than the usual, with him.”
“Mmmm-hmmm.” Satin nodded. “And has he made any comments? Offered to buy you dinner, pay you double to come to his place?”
“No. Nothing like that.”
“Brought you any expensive gifts?”
“No.” Gifts weren’t forbidden at Chataya’s, but there were strict rules about them. Only gifts from long-term clients could be accepted, as lavish gifts too early in a relationship could be an indication of problems of attachment and possessiveness in the future.
“Well, that’s good at least. He’s not a sleaze or a freak. Does he get hard during your sessions?”
Davos felt his face turning red. He nodded, avoiding eye contact with Satin. He’d never been this explicit with anyone except Asha, and he’d known her for nearly seven years.
“Well, I think you’ve got two options here.” Satin held up a finger. “One, you cancel his contract and shift him off onto someone else. Eventually, after a few fucks, you’ll stop jerking off before bed thinking about his face.”
Davos was torn between an angry retort and protests of denial. Instead he said nothing, which was just as much a confirmation as a swift denial would have been.
“Or, second option, you do something about it. Invite him out for drinks, coffee, something, somewhere public. Figure out whether he’s interested in having more than a legal business arrangement. Could be he’s one of those straight guys who gets off on being humiliated by a gay man, but he’d rather get hit by a bus than actually touch your cock.”
Davos’ incredulity must have shown on his face.
“It happens! There’s a lot of different tastes out there. It’s not my place to judge, it’s just my place to put a price tag on it.” Satin shrugged. “Could be married. You wanna get tangled up in some messy divorce hearings?”
Davos shook his head.
“Well then, get him outta here, and preferably get him a little drunk. Might let slip about the wife, if there is one. Or a husband, these days.” Satin grinned, then shifted to a more serious expression. “It can work. I had a guy for a few years, he didn’t mind my job, just wanted me to be safe. And I’ve got friends who’ve made it work. It’s rare, but you seem like the sensible type, you could probably make it work with this guy if he’s as good as he seems to be.”
Davos nodded slowly. “Coffee?”
“Or a bar! Get him unwound in public, if that’s possible.” Satin laughed. “Good luck. Let me know how it goes.” He raised his book again.
Davos stood to leave. “Thank you, Satin.”
“Any time,” Satin waved a hand.
Davos knew that some of the other employees at Chataya’s avoided Satin. They called him “whore” and “dirty” and worse things. They liked to see themselves not as sex workers at all, and distancing themselves from Satin was a part of that. People like Satin, who engaged in physical sex and sexual intimacy with their clients, often found themselves cut off from the rest of the sex industry. Some strippers, cam girls, and dominatrixes liked to think of themselves as somehow above prostitutes, as different, and derided Satin and others like him for being “weak” for “lowering themselves” to more traditional actions.
Davos had always felt a little uncomfortable about that, but never given it much thought. He’d even mentally sneered at people like Satin a few times, wondering how they could bring themselves to do such things.
He felt sick, realizing what that isolation must have cost Satin every day. In an already marginalized profession, Satin had to put up with extra distain, from the very people who should have been his support network.
Davos couldn’t just leave it there. Satin had been more helpful than he could have hoped for, especially in such a personal matter.
“You know, I have been in this business for some time, if you ever need advice, or just want to talk …” Davos let it hang in the air.
Satin looked a little shocked. “Uh … yeah. Thanks.” He ducked his head, ears turning pink.
“See you around. And thank you, again.” Davos raised his hand and left.
Asha was set to train a new girl soon. He’d have a few words with Asha, urge her to use Satin as a kind of teaching assistant with the new girl. Asha had never seemed to mind what Satin did outside of Chataya’s; with her on his side, Satin wouldn’t have to put up with quite so much office nastiness.
Davos smiled, heading to his afternoon appointment, and wondered how he the hell he was going to casually invite Stannis out for drinks.
~*~
“Invite him to Sal’s.”
Davos stared at Asha. He blinked a few times, mind racing.
“Not like you can just ask him out for a coffee. Relationship’s too complicated. You wanna fuck him, yeah?”
Davos nodded. The thought had certainly crossed his mind numerous times over the past few weeks, in increasingly explicit detail.
“Well, he might wanna fuck you back, or he might not. So, best to take him to a place where there’s plenty of kink and plenty of fucking, and it’s all perfectly legal,” Asha grinned. “Then you can find out if he just wants to keep the relationship as it is, as a strictly legal client here, visiting and paying you weekly, or if he wants to change things up. Take him to Sal’s, show him how the other half lives, or whatever.”
Sal’s would certainly be an eye-opener for anyone new to the kink scene. Stannis, whose experiences had been limited to the internet and his sessions with Davos, would likely be more than a little overwhelmed.
“I don’t want to scare him off.” Davos admitted. “If he … doesn’t want to have sex, that’s fine, but if he does …”
“You’d want to know. Ask him to the party. Tell him it’s a fetish party. Warn him that there’ll be people fucking in public. He can agree to go with you or not. Ball’s in his court then,” Asha finished her coffee. “Do it, or I’m going to make a play for him. He’s obviously bi, and I could use a sugar daddy.”
Davos scowled at her.
“Only joking!” Asha laughed. “Your face … wow, you really like this one. Good luck with it.” Asha winked. “Next Saturday isn’t that far off.”
“No, no it’s not.”
“Well, ask him … today. At the end of your session. That gives him a week to think things over before your next session, and a few days for you to lick your wounds before the party if he turns you down.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
Asha gave him a look. “Davos, I love you, but you sulk when things don’t go your way. Don’t worry, it’s adorable. If things don’t work out with Mr. Hawkface, I’ll fix you up with someone at the party. You won’t have any trouble finding a rebound there.”
Davos sighed. “Thank you, Asha.”
She got up to leave. Davos caught her hand.
“I mean it. You’re a true friend. I appreciate that.”
Asha gave him a playful thwack on the arm. “Don’t speak too soon. I’m getting first crack at the choices at the party. You’ll be getting my leavings.”
“And I will be very grateful for them, if it comes to that.” Davos said, sincerely.
Asha glanced at her watch. “Augh, another one with the Leech Lord. See you later?”
“Yes. Want to grab dinner afterwards?”
“Yeah. Sushi. You’re paying. Because I just solved your little drama.”
Asha was gone before Davos could protest.
The appointment time was drawing closer. Davos stood up and made his way to his session room.
After the session, Davos would ask.
Davos’ hands felt clammy as he waited for Stannis to arrive.