How To Save A Life

By Touchstone
published September 12, 2009

A newlywed man learns the proper way to say thank you to someone who saved you from drowning.

“Can’t believe she’s making me do this…” Keith muttered under his breath as he found the hotel room he was looking for. Dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda pants, the young newlywed wanted nothing better to do than to just roll back into bed and forget the day had ever happened. It had only been a few good hours ago when he’d almost drowned, off the coast of the beautiful island resort his wife had chosen for their honeymoon. For a person who’d spent a good deal of his life surfing, almost drowning wasn’t exactly something to be proud of. In fact he could already imagine his friends back home laughing about the fact that he’d had to be saved by some 50-year old rich dude who also gave him CPR.

It was his job. That’s what it was. Ever since he’d had to work doubly hard to start financing the wedding, he’d gotten severely out of shape. Being in the water for the first time in almost a year, he hadn’t expected the leg cramp when it had happened. But happen it did, and the next thing he knew he was flailing about in the water, struggling not to swallow too much water.

He hadn’t met the man who’d brought him back to shore and resuscitated him. All he’d heard were the descriptions and a name the others had left him by the time he woke up.

Of course, Jennifer insisted that he had to go and say thank you at the very least. Which was a reasonable thing to do, if it weren’t for the fact that Keith wanted nothing more right now than to leave the resort and go back home and start getting back into shape. Forgetting that any of this ever happened.

When the door finally opened, in that instant Keith realized that maybe there was nothing to be ashamed of after all.

For a 50-year old, the man in front of him, clad in only a robe looked extremely fit. Towering slightly above him, the only real indicator that the man was his senior was his white hair, his bolding hairline and a certain calm, mature look about his piercing blue eyes.

“Huh,” the older man grunted, looking somewhat surprised. “I remember you.”

“And I would have remembered you, if I weren’t unconscious,” Keith joked nervously. “My wife told me about what happened. Figured that I might as well come up here and thank you for, you know, saving my life and all.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” the man replied graciously in a deep voice, lined with a thick British accent. “It wouldn’t look good for my resort if someone died here on his honeymoon, would it? Rest assured that the lifeguard slacking on the job at the time has been… dealt with, appropriately.”

“Oh…I didn’t know you were the owner of the hotel…” Keith muttered.

“Please, come in. I had a wine bottle sent to your room as a way of apologizing for what happened, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a bit more right now, would it? I wouldn’t mind the company,” the man said, stepping back to welcome Keith in.

There is something about older, successful men that draws in young men and women alike. While Keith, being as straight as an arrow obviously wasn’t interested in the hotel owner sexually, he figured that it wouldn’t be a bad thing to make friends with someone rich and probably powerful. In truth, he wished he could fast forward his career to the point where he was this rich too. Going back to Chicago to start work the following week wasn’t exactly a happy prospect.

“I’m James, by the way. James Ridley,” the man said, introducing himself as Keith stepped into the room to take up his offer. Keith offered his name in return and they shook hands- another gesture which had Keith reminded of the older man’s vigour as like everything else he’d seen about him so far, it radiated a firm, steady kind of confidence that Keith could only wish he had.

“Please, have a seat,” James said simply as he led Keith into a lavishly furnished living room. While Keith had gone the extra mile to get the honeymoon suite, being the owner’s actual room it didn’t surprise him that it was almost ten times as fancy. As Keith awkwardly sat himself down on one of the armchairs in the living room, James went on towards the mini-bar, searching his collection of bottles for a drink for his guest. “So, Keith,” James asked.“What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a lawyer,” Keith replied. “I just started a new job over at Chicago last fall.”

“Ah, a lawyer,” James repeated, sounding somewhat amused by it. Not knowing whether to be offended by the old man’s tone, Keith just sat there quietly as

James came back, handing him a glass of wine.

“So you’re here on your honeymoon, am I correct?” James asked as Keith took his first sip. The drink had a weird kind of aftertaste to it, although the younger man could only guess that this was probably one of those things ‘sophisticated rich people’ would know more about.

“Y..yes,” Keith affirmed. “How did you know?”

“You and your wife had that glow about you,” James grinned. “Not while you were unconscious of course. But I did notice you when you were checking in back in the lobby three days ago.”

“Oh… well, yeah. It’s one of the best things I’ve done in my life,” Keith said, feeling a bit more comfortable now that they were talking about his wife.

“She is beautiful. You’re a very lucky man,” James praised him. “How did you two meet?”

Keith was only too happy to tell the story. For the first time since he’d come into the room, he felt much more comfortable than he thought he would. And for all the ways he’d imagined James to be a stuck up, boring old man, at the very least he was a very good audience. Poor guy, Keith thought to himself, must be bored and lonely living out here by himself even though he’s rich.

From that point on talking seemed to become even more natural. There was something about the way the older man complimented his achievements when he talked about how he’d had to fight to get his job that made him feel good about himself. In turn, he listened to James’ stories, long enough that before he knew it, the short visit to stay thank you had extended to a better part of the hour.

With his glass having been refilled only too many times, Keith was beginning to feel more than a little tipsy. As he looked at the clock on the wall, the realization struck him that he needed to get back.

“I think I should be going,” he said with a finality that hopefully would end the conversation. “Again, I c..can’t thank you enough for.. saving my..” The room around him seemed to be getting dimmer and the very effort of getting to his feet seemed a too colossal a feat. Before he knew what was happening, he was stumbling forward-

And then he was caught. Steadied by his shoulders as James smiled down at him.

“Actually,” the older man’s voice whispered huskily. “There is something you can do to thank me.”

Keith did not like the way the older man was looking at him. Yet there was little he could do to show it when his limbs felt as heavy as lead. Slurring protests, he stumbled onward as James lead him out of the living room into what was most clearly the bedroom.

"Whh…what are you doin- " the question was cut short as he was dropped unceremoniously onto the bed, his legs hanging limply off the side.

“I’m giving you the chance to thank me, dear boy,” James replied, standing in clear view as he loosened his robes. And with that, the man’s entire muscular frame was revealed to Keith in all its glory. If Keith had thought the man had looked intimidatingly healthy while he was at the door, now it felt like he was looking at a man twenty years younger. The man clearly kept in shape, Keith realized as his eyes trailed along the man’s body. From his perfectly sculpted chest, glistening slightly with sweat underneath a mat of fine, white hair to his thighs, as thick as tree trunks hidden partially by a pair of black, silk boxers which did little to hide the bulge between them.

While he was still feeling too light-headed to get up, Keith was still lucid enough to at least realize what was going on.

“Nnno..don’t…” he slurred feebly, the look of horror in his eyes evident.

“I’m nnot…”

But the man was already atop him, straddling him before he could finish. “Not gay?” James chuckled. “Don’t worry, boy. That’s something we can fix.”

“Impossible,” Keith muttered weakly as the older man began unbuttoning his shirt, exposing his own shaved chest. How did the man think he was going to get away with this? This, and all the other fearful questions burning in his mind faded away quickly as James leaned in closer on top of him, burying his face in the younger man’s neck.

“Noo…” Keith continued to protest, feeling the man’s hot breath, the sensation of that firm chest pressed against his and the scratch of his thick goatee on his skin. This was all wrong.

And yet…

“Mmm…you smell wonderful, boy,” James whispered huskily in his ear, a comment that would’ve been somewhat flattering if it weren’t for the sentence that followed. “With a little work, you will make a fine slave.”

“S..slave?” Keith gasped. Things were definitely progressing from bad to worse fast.

“Don’t worry, boy,” James smiled reassuringly, backing up. And before Keith could draw any relief from that, the man’s hands reached down to his pants, pulling them down roughly to reveal a pair of white trunks, covering his own thankfully limp cock.

“Everything is going to be alright.”

That voice. Smooth as silk yet so deep and masculine. Where had Keith heard him say that before?

Oh right. Back when he was about to die. Thrashing about in the water.

He’d believed the older man then. And somehow, some strange part of his subconscious felt it only right to believe him again.

The way the world seemed to spin about them, Keith was only dimly aware of the thick, calloused fingers that wrapped around his limp cock through the material of his trunks. The warmth radiating from them seemed to course through his body like fire, and he could only gasp, shudder as it came to life in the older man’s firm hand.

“That’s right, boy. Just relax…” the older man cooed softly, leaning back in again.

Awash in this new state of bliss, Keith stared at the mature, beautiful face hovering in front of him, contemplating the hot breaths landing on his face as the part of him that still rebelled managed to ask, “What…what are you doing to me?”

A verbal answer to that question did not come. Instead the next thing Keith new, the older man was now leaning completely on top of him, their lips meeting as the man’s entire body seemed to eclipse everything else that he could see or feel. The tidal wave of sensations crashing upon him cut through his resolve like a knife through butter, and before he could even think of fighting back, his tongue was already in the older man’s mouth, the ecstasy-filled moans of passion filling his ears most clearly his own. He felt the older man’s pulsating hot cock pressed against his own, and realized that he was dwarfed even there.

And yet he could not stop kissing the man back. Could not stop his own hands admiring the firm contours of James’ strong back. Could not stop himself from closing his eyes and moaning, wanting suddenly to just melt into the larger man’s firm chest.

The kiss had to end eventually. And when it did, Keith looked up at the older man adoringly, and whispered, “More… no… no… stop…”

The confused look on his face reflected his thoughts. It felt like the person saying these words were someone else. But was he the one asking for more or the one asking for it all to end?

“It’s alright, boy. I know you’re confused,” James smiled benevolently, caressing his cheek. A sensation that made him want to burst with joy and cry out with disgust at the same time. “I’m about to save you from drowning again. This time from drowning in a life you don’t want. Just relax and let me help you.”

What else could he do? Keith watched helplessly as James reached down and grabbed hold of his hand, pulling it up between them so it hovered just in front of Keith’s face.

“I want you to concentrate on your wedding band, Keith. I want you to look at it and nothing else, do you understand?”


“Now, I want you to put everything you can think of related to her in that ring. Everything. How you met, the things you did, put it all there. Focus, boy, and let it all flow into that ring,” James’ voice intoned softly.

Keith did as he was told. It was like his life was flashing in front of his eyes. All the memories he’d had came rapidly pouring forth, like a montage of photos streaming past. It was with this that the feeling inside that told him that this was all wrong started to become stronger. His wife was waiting for him in their room. He could not allow this to happen!

And yet suddenly, he was drowning again. It was like he just opened his eyes and he was now underwater, gasping desperately for breath but all that came into his lungs was water. He tried to swim upwards toward the sunlight, but something seemed to keep dragging him down.

“You’re afraid,” he heard James’ voice intone at the back of his mind.

“Remember all the things you had to give up for her. Remember how you will spend the rest of your life toiling endlessly for someone who doesn’t understand you.”

All the while, Keith continued to sink.

“The ring is what’s weighing you down.”

Of course. How could he not have noticed before?

And then he was back in that bedroom, that ugly, despicable ring still hovering between his face and James’. He gazed at it loathingly, gasping with surprise as the finger holding it disappeared into the older man’s warm, wet mouth. As he withdrew the finger, the wedding band was gone.

Keith sighed happily beneath the older man, feeling as though a great weight had been taken off his shoulders. He did not even notice James spitting it out halfway across the room, his eyes too fixated on the man’s perfect chest. He reached out for it, tentatively, running his hand through the fine forest of hair.

Yes. This felt better.

Seeing the glazed, contented look in the young man’s eyes, James grinned triumphantly. “There,” he said. “No more protests. Will you promise to behave yourself now?”

“Yes…” Keith replied happily.

“That’s a good boy,” James smiled. “You do realize that it’s for the best, don’t you? She would have given you love, of course, but I know what you really want, boy, and what you want is more powerful than love.”

“Tell me,” Keith pleaded, wanting nothing more than to have this god of a man kissing him again.

“What you want is guidance. What you want is a master. Someone to tell you what to do and what to think so you won’t have to be confused anymore. Someone to watch over you so you won’t have to be afraid anymore.”

“Yes…” Keith whispered. That was exactly what he wanted. More than anything in the entire world.

“Master.” The word felt good at the tip of his tongue. It felt so right that he had to wonder why he’d never used it before. Beneath him he could feel his cock throbbing happily in his master’s firm grasp. And he knew, finally, that he was where he was meant to be all along.

And with the dawning of this realization, he was rewarded again with his master’s lips once again pressed firmly upon his. This time there was no hesitation. Only joy as he surrendered to the feelings that were new and yet strangely familiar to him at the same time.

It was like coming home.

There were no words to describe it fully. The scent of his master’s sweat, the feel of the older man’s pure, rippling muscles beneath his fingertips, the warmth that seemed to wrap around him like a cocoon, Keith was reaching nirvana. And not even the sound of his cellphone ringing in his now discarded pants could take him back out. The woman making that call was no longer the center of his universe.

He no longer wanted to be a husband or a successful lawyer. Here and now, beneath the pure, masculine presence of his new god, he only wanted to be a slave.

He whimpered softly as he felt the kiss end and his master get off him. He had to have more. More heat. More sweat. More skin.

And more he was about to receive, as his master approached him from the other end now, towering above his head. Swinging pendulously between his master’s now bare thighs was everything this night had been leading up to- the mark that would set his new life in stone. Once marked, he knew he would never go back.

And it was a fact he embraced fully. As his master lowered himself, the divine cock now hovering deliciously close to his nostrils, he could feel his mouth water and his will leaving him entirely.

He opened his mouth and let his master in, allowing that warm, firm, juicy pole of flesh into the moist cavern of his gaping maw. He wrapped his licks around it delicately, sighing happily as his master grunted his approval. His deep breaths now drew in the delicate, musky scent of his master’s balls, pressed firmly into his face.

He allowed his body to go limp. All he needed now was to show how much he wanted his master’s creamy reward with his mouth, and he wanted to focus every bit of effort into it like a good slave. And so his hands had to fall away from his own throbbing erection, every ounce of his will now where it was supposed to be- at the tip of his master’s cock.

“Thaaat’s it, boy. Take it all in.”

As the older man began to move, thrusting wantonly into his face, Keith drank in every grunt and moan of approval, every delicious drop of pre-cum that slid down his tongue into his mouth.

“Oh, yeah boy… keep it up. You’re loving every moment of this, aren’t you? Just like a good little slave.”

Keith gave an ‘mmff’ of agreement. Gulping and slurping happily around the overwhelming manhood that he would not have even considered touching a mere hour ago.

But that Keith was dead. And it was time to nail that coffin shut.

Keith gave out a muffled ‘More!’ as his master increased the intensity of his thrusting. He instinctively reached his hands up to grab his master’s perfect ass to take more and more into himself.

“Mine!” the older man roared at the top of his lungs, giving one final, deep thrust as he let loose jet after jet of hot, creamy , pure manseed into his willing slave’s mouth. For a long while the only sounds left in the room were the long, slow moan of the master, finally having reach completion and his slave, gulping it all down dutifully.

When his master finally pulled out, a thin streak of cum left connecting the two fell in a perfect line up the boy’s face onto his forehead.

“That’s a good boy,” James muttered huskily, caressing Keith’s face which was now awash with a gleaming sense of pride. He watched as his master lay back on the bed, beckoning him over with a lazy finger. And like a good slave he crawled over, ignoring the load he had just shot in his own wet trunks. He straddled his master and lay his head down on that warm, firm chest, shuddering happily as the older man wrapped a possessive arm around him. Breathing in deep of his master’s musk and sweat, he promptly fell asleep.

Keith was back at the resort less than two weeks later, having settled everything he’d needed to back in Chicago. Jennifer had obviously been distressed at the fact that he’d not wanted to touch her anymore since that night, and even more so when he called for a divorce not long after. Thankfully she did not pursue the matter any further when he legally gave her every last bit of his properties to her. His master had no interest them anyway, and neither did he. As far as he was concerned they were anchors to a life he did not want anymore.

The wedding band was thrown into the sea. It had been a mark of another kind of slavery that he no longer wished to bear. Instead now he wears another, a simple leather collar which is the only piece of clothing he wears in his master’s suite. During the day he sits at his master’s feet in the living room, his head dutifully placed between his master’s thighs as the older man sits either reading or smoking a pipe. At night he lays happily there in the older man’s arms after worshipping every inch of the man’s godlike figure. By the end of a week he could barely remember any semblance of a life before this one, even when it occurred to him to try and remember, which was rare. By the end of a month he’d barely remember his own name, and not long after it ceased to matter altogether anyway. By the end of the year, the slave had become so adept at obeying that his master almost stopped needing words to give orders. It was like he’d become an extension of the other man himself.

The only think he remembered, every morning when he woke up was that this was the man who had saved him, and he would spend his entire life thanking him like a good slave should.

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