This touches on some of my insecurities, namely my inability to be biologically bred by my Master. “Is Master displeased with his slave’s appearance?” I ask, my tone just short of snippy.
“You’re perfect,tesoro, you know that. The most beautiful boy,” Master compliments while stroking the curve of my ass. He gets high on his power too.
“He is very attractive,” Anthony admits like it kills him to do so.
Sounds pretty fucking gay to me, Anthony,I want to shout, but I keep my smart mouth shut.
“He’s my golden boy,” Master says. “My very own treasure.” He then pushes two digits inside my mouth, and I readily accept them, gazing up at Anthony while making love to my Master’s fingers with my tongue and lips. His fingers fork so that he may sweep the inside of my mouth, then plunge deeper. In and out, he mimics the motion of a cock, depressing my tongue and testing my gag reflex to make sure I haven’t forgotten my training. Master is covering all his bases, reestablishing his claim on the places that have been lying dormant while he was on bed rest. “Very good, Gio,” he says and then to Anthony, “I might be able to find someone for you. If you’re interested…”
Anthony startles or maybe he just came in his pants. “Oh, I don’t… ah….”
“Think about it,” Master says. “Now, if you don’t mind?”
Anthony backs away, only a little, and rather than relocating, Master fucks me right there on the bench. It’s dirty and delicious and makes me feel like a complete whore to be used like that right there in front of Anthony’s wide-eyed stare. I howl and rut on Master’s cock like his best breeding bitch, and Master smacks my thigh to show me he likes it too.
Pretty fucking gay,I think to myself with a chuckle.
When I come, it’s with the glut of a pig in shit, snorting and grunting in delight while Master chuckles at my enthusiasm. After we both finish, Master makes me clean the cum I spilled on the bench with my tongue before he wipes it down with a disinfectant. Back in his bedroom, he shows Anthony how to properly medicate my ass cheeks while explaining the importance of aftercare. I’m already dozing in Master’s lavish, king-sized bed while he drones on and on about the proper care and feeding of his slave. He makes it sound as if I’m needy or something.
Once Anthony’s been stationed in the living room with a couple of others, and I’m lying in my Master’s arms feeling wrung out in the very best way, he asks me about my day. I tell him a little about my session with Rebekah, only what I feel comfortable sharing. And then I say, “The events of the past two weeks have shaken this slave’s sense of security and stability. This slave worries about his Master being involved in such a dangerous profession and would like to know if Master has a plan.”
He’s slow to respond but eventually, he says in his measured way, “Master does have a plan, specifically one to keep his slave safe while he wraps up a few loose ends. The important thing for this slave to remember is that his Master will always provide for him.” He touches my chin so that I’ll look at him. He gives me that well-deep stare that cuts through all my defenses and carefully constructed selves. “I willalwaystake care of you, Giovanni.”
I nod and lower my head in deference. “Thank you, Master.”
6
We’re going on a trip. From what Master has told me and what I’ve overheard the men discussing when they think I’m not paying attention, New York is a little too hot right now. The don of the Tagliarini family is pissed that his brother’s kid got murdered by Valentin Fortuna’s boy whore (even though that’s not the official story). Master worries there might also be rumors circulating as to my true identity. For these reasons and more, we’re traveling to Italy to see the sights and visit Silvio at the Fortuna brothers’ coastal property in Ischia, an island off the coast of Naples. I’ve been to Italy once before with my grandfather when I was thirteen, but it was a business trip, so we couldn’t explore the country all that much. Despite the circumstance, this will be a vacation for both of us. Master has promised to spoil me rotten but has given me very few details beyond that.
I have questions, of course, but I remind myself that curiosity is not this slave’s virtue. Master instructs me to pack lightly, only my favorite toys, toiletries, and jewelry. He’ll have a few things shipped to his estate, and we’ll go shopping in Milan for some new clothing and shoes for me once we arrive, which is exciting. All the fashion trends hit Milan months before they make it over here.
The only drawback is that Anthony will be accompanying us. Master says we need the added security, that he won’t be able to enjoy taking in the sights if he’s constantly looking over his shoulder. I suspect Master might also want a second set of eyes on me, but I don’t mention it because Master knows best. I have my doubts that Anthony, being relatively young and new to the family, is the best choice in muscle until we’re waiting in the JFK airport terminal to disembark and a friend of Master’s named Sir Keller approaches us. Anthony intercepts him so quickly that my head spins.
All is well, though. Sir Keller isn’t connected to the mob. He’s a leather Daddy with a rope fetish and one of the Dominants who was present at my collaring ceremony. He’s begged Master in the past to let him tie me up for Master’s pleasure (and I’ve definitely been interested), but I’m just not ready for that yet.
I wonder sometimes how Master manages it when his worlds collide—mobster, businessman, Dominant, homosexual. It takes a strong man to integrate one’s many selves into one life. And then I think about my own meekness, a slave who must be given permission to come or to speak in the presence of men, who even as a boy has stood in the shadow of great men. But if I am the one who offers my Master such succor with my body and contentment through my servitude, surely some of his greatness must belong to me too.
Sir Keller claps Master on the back and tells him he must run and catch a flight but to enjoy our vacation. “And keep an eye on this one,” he says and winks at me. I smile demurely at his innocent flirtations. Sir Keller has tried to convince Master to let him play with me as he has in the past with former subs, but Master won’t allow it. I could probably be persuaded with someone we both trusted, but Master readily admits he is too possessive to share me. It’s comforting to know that no one else will ever have me; I will belong to my Master as his bed-warming catamite forever.
For now, Master places his hand at the base of my spine and says to Sir Keller with a polite curtness, “I surely will.”
Master flies first class,always, and on the rare occasions when I’ve flown, so do I. I know I’ve spoken about some of our luxuries, but I can attest that the one place you’ll want to splurge if you can afford it is on a transatlantic flight. Master and I sit together on one side of the cabin with Anthony directly behind us. The seat next to Anthony is empty, and he appears to be on high alert. Now that we’re confined on a plane without weapons, I can appreciate Master’s forethought in bringing on the added security.
The flight attendant is flirting with Master, which I find amusing. She’s an attractive woman in her early forties and definitely more age-appropriate than myself. She keeps offering Master amenities—a warm towel, fresh cookies, a refill on his seltzer. I think if I were in her shoes, I’d cut to the chase and offer him a blowjob. Isn’t that what every man wants?
When Master gets up to use the bathroom, the woman stops by again to see if I need anything. I do not and tell her so politely.
“Your father is very attentive,” she says, finding a reason to linger. Master asked for a blanket and pillow so that I might be more comfortable while I watch the in-flight movie. I have to give her credit, though, it’s pretty smart to go through a man’s boy to get his attention.
“He really is,” I say. “He’s had a really hard time since my mother passed.” I sigh as if bereaved and she echoes her sympathies. “It was so sudden, you see. My mother was jogging through Central Park when a bolt of lightning struck her dead.”
There’s a snort behind us. Anthony covers it by clearing his throat.
“I’m so sorry,” the woman says while her eyes light up because she sees an opening. “It must have been so hard for you both to lose her like that.”
“It really was. That’s why we’re taking this vacation. Ma always wanted to visit Italy. I only wish my dad had someone he could share his time with. You see, I’d love to go out dancing, maybe take in the nightlife, but I don’t want to leave him all alone.”
“Well, I have a layover,” she offers. “I’d be happy to show him some of the sights.”
