Anthony opens my door and Master assists me out of the car. I’m always in a bit of a daze after I disassociate. Sometimes, I can ward it off. Other times, and especially if I know I’m safe, I just let the sensation take over. Rebekah says it’s a protective measure my brain has instituted to cope with my fear and trauma, but my demons sometimes use it to their advantage. Overall, it’s a bit of a mixed bag.
I gaze all around at the sprawling stucco mansion bathed in twilight as Master leads me through an open-air courtyard with an in-ground pool. Surrounding it are several balconies with stone balustrades and brightly colored bougainvillea draped over them like sated lovers.
“I’m going to live here?” I ask, still a little confused and needing his assurances. Perhaps Master is telling the truth, that he will come back to me. This is his estate after all, and I am his property. This idea comforts me, though I’m not sure that it should.
“This is your home now, Giovanni, for many, many years to come.”
Years.In our time together, Master has seldom talked about our future in terms of years. In the beginning, he didn’t think it would last, or he thought I was using him as a crutch temporarily, and I would soon move on from his attentions. This goes back to our age difference, I think. But it was all in his head. I sometimes behave badly, but I’ve never threatened to leave. And I’ve proven my commitment to him every step of the way.
On our way inside, he points out the entrance to the steam room, which is near the pool and appears only as a softly lit cave leading underground. “Tomorrow,” Master promises. In the bedroom suite, I find something familiar—my box. Master must have had it dismantled, shipped here, and rebuilt while we were traveling the country.
“What does this mean?” I don’t have the ability to think clearly or rationally. Too much is happening all at once.
“You’ve not outgrown your box yet,” he says, watching me take it in. “So, I had it brought here for when you need it.”
I think about the routines and discipline Master has instituted for me. Questions volley for attention in my mind, and I don’t know where to begin.
“There will be rules in my absence,” Master says, perhaps sensing my inner chaos, “and there will be consequences when I return.”
“But how?” Only Master can enforce the rules; only Master knows what this slave needs.
“Silvio will be checking in with me daily.” Master licks his bottom lip and watches me carefully. “He’s looking forward to meeting you.”
A sick feeling shudders in my stomach as another dreaded realization hits me. “Master is giving away his slave.”
“No, Giovanni.” His hands grip my upper arms. “That’s not what this is. This is temporary, I promise you.”
“Master is loaning out his slave to another man, a stranger.” I start trembling all over as visions of that apartment in the Bronx comes rushing back. The things my mother’s boyfriend did to me and let others do to me as well.
Master’s strong arms encircle me. “The rules still apply,” he says in a soothing tone while stroking my hair. “The slave serves according to his own will. The slave is touched only when invited. Green, yellow, red, Giovanni. The only thing Master asks of his slave is to keep an open mind.”
“He won’t touch me,” I ask, needing the confirmation.
“He will not touch you without your explicit consent. You can trust him,tesoro, as I trust him. He’s family.”
“But you want him to touch me?”
“I want my slave taken care of in my absence. I want you healthy and thriving when I return. I want this slave to miss his Master, but I don’t want you unhappy or suicidal or tempted to abuse drugs while I’m away. Now, take a deep breath.”
I do as Master instructs, breathing in deeply through my nose and out through my mouth. I think about Silvio, Master’s brother, a man I’ve never met before and know very little about. Is he somewhere in the villa now? Is he truly looking forward to meeting me? Does Silvio think this slave will do the things for him that he’s done for Master? Absolutely not.
“Does Master really think this is a good idea?” It’s not a slave’s virtue to jump to conclusions, but this slave sees red flags all around.
“I believe this is the best course of action given the difficult situation. Will you trust me, Giovanni? Will you trust that your Master knows what’s best?”
I want to be good for my Master, to exemplify the virtues of patience, humility, subservience, gratitude…
“Where is Silvio?” I ask.
“He has a house on the other side of the property where he keeps his boat. He’ll be by tomorrow.”
“To meet me?”
“Yes.”
“What if he hates me?”
Master gazes down at me with a tender expression. “He could never hate you, Giovanni. I know my brother. He’s going to love you.”
