“Prendimi in bocca,” he murmurs.Take me in your mouth.“Give me blowjob, pretty princess.Signorelikes your mouth on his cock. Makes him feel so good.”
I am charmed that Silvio is now referring to himself in third person, in some weird role-reversal that shows he is trying to speak my language, even if it is only to tease me.
I edge closer to Silvio and he places his hand on the back of my head, guiding me down, down, smothering my face with his wet groin and making sure I’m saturated with his scent. I close my eyes and rub my lips against his shaft, then my cheeks and my nose. This is something I understand. This is something I’m good at, an expert even. This is one way for this slave to feel useful. Master isn’t here, butSignoreis. There is a new man in the house, and he has a thick cock that is as rapacious and greedy as any other. He has big, heavy balls that need draining, lusts to be sated, and a strong, virile body that must be worshipped as a god.
As Silvio’s thick, monstrous cock fills my mouth, giving me both direction and purpose, I think about Adam and Eve and their original sin. According to the Book of Genesis, it was a serpent that tempted Eve to eat the fruit from the forbidden tree, but I believe the snake wasn’t a snake at all, but Adam’s cock. You see, Eve found a new god to worship in Adam, and the fruit was the result of the seed that fertilized her womb. God was jealous of the bond they made and banished them from His holy land to live in a barren landscape and toil under the hot sun, shamed by the sins of their passion.
I would have made the same choice as Eve.
Signoreis not Master, but he is a man all the same.
12
It’s a new day and a new opportunity to serve my…
Not my Master, but my Sir. MySignore.
I wake at the usual time and perform my Sun Salutations. Sir is asleep in the bed, Master’s bed, which I must think of as belonging to him for now, as I belong to Sir until my Master’s return. I cannot help but compare the two men, only to find that they are so very different. In every way that Master is reserved, controlled, and methodically stern, Sir is… not.
Even in slumber Sir is sloppy, his naked limbs splayed everywhere, his thick black hair a tangle around his head. His mouth is open and drooling, his snores are soft but unbecoming all the same. Sir is a man who takes up space, both in body and spirit, who hasn’t had to survive by scurrying between the shadows as I have or been forced to look over his shoulder in case of danger as Master must. One of the ways in which Master and I have always aligned was in our overwhelming distrust for humankind. Sir has no such prejudice, and I can only conclude that he’s lived a blessed life, that he has been truly loved. Knowing this makes me feel protective toward him, to make sure his sense of security remains intact.
I continue with my poses, determined to not let Sir’s overabundance of flesh distract me from my morning ritual. Midway through my sequence, he stirs and blinks drowsily, watching me for a moment before yawning like a bear and asking, “What is this?”
“My Sun Salutations,” I tell him. Silvio hasn’t witnessed this part of my day yet, though it is listed as part of my schedule. “This is how I greet the day.” When his look remains bewildered, I say, “Yoga?”
“Ah, yes.” He nods, his lips protruding slightly like he has some expertise. “This is how you stay so limber for the swing.” He makes a motion with his hand, one finger swaying back and forth. His smile is shameless and roguish and not at all like Master’s, and while some part of me wishes I could hate it, I do not.
“Master says I must show gratitude for each day that I’m given,” I explain. Master did his best educating Silvio in our limited time together, but there is more work to do.
“Gratitude,” Silvio murmurs. “Yes, yes. Every day I give thanks for this.”
He grabs his half-hard cock in one hand and gives it tug, unabashedly admiring it. I suppose that I would to.
“You finished yet?” he asks. “Time for cuddling? This is something we can add to the schedule, no?”
I skip my last couple of poses and climb back into bed, because even while it wasn’t phrased as a command, I can sort of pretend it was. Once I am within grappling range, Sir makes a grab for me and rolls with me on the bed, then seems to realize that it might be considered restraining me.
“Is this okay?” he asks.
“Yes. The demons are quiet today.”
“Demons?”
“The voices.”
“Mmmm,” he murmurs, and I have to hand it to Sir, nothing seems to faze him. He dips down to sniff my hair, then noses my cheek like a dog.He is like a dog, I think, wet-nosed and rambunctious and always wanting pets.
“Your skin is so soft, Giovanni, like a woman’s. And down here.” He reaches for my cock and squeezes it. “Like a little boy. Does my brother like fucking little boys?”
“Master isnota pedophile,” I tell him firmly. “It’s to remind me that I’m not a man, but a boy in the service of men.” As well as making it a little easier for Master to stuff me with his cock and an assortment of toys.
“Yes, a little boy,” Sir murmurs, groping me a little more. He sits back on his heels with his thick, hairy thighs bulging and says, “Stroke it for me, little boy.”
I glance up at him, a little bit shocked, then look away with my cheeks burning. “Master…” I begin.
“Master doesn’t let little boys touch their cocks?” Sir infers from my hesitation. I shake my head, feeling ashamed for even considering it. This is one of Master’s big no-no’s. The first time I broke this rule, Master caged my cock and plugged me with a remote-control prostate massager, then made me orgasm over and over again until it was so painful that I had to crawl around the apartment on my hands and knees. For two days he tortured me with that vibrator before he finally forgave me.
Sir tilts his head and scratches his chin as if coming up with an idea, “But Giovanni, Master is not here. Sir is in charge now.” He licks his lower lip and eyes me up and down. If Master’s gaze turns me into a tuning fork, Sir’s is like the equivalent of being dipped in a vat of oil, making everything slick and luscious. Even his name—Silvio—is a sibilant seduction. “Sir wants you to touch your cock, Giovanni,” he says with a little sing-song quality to his voice. “Don’t you want to please your Sir?”
