I chuckle at his phrasing. Count on Sir to turn a Circle of Hell into a block party. “Their souls are buffeted back and forth by the terrible winds of a violent storm without rest.” I quote from the book, “‘A howling darkness of helpless discomfort.’”
Sir shrugs. “Doesn’t sound so bad, just like being on a boat.” He glances around, taking stock in his prized possession. “What do you think of her?”
“I think she’s beautiful,” I tell him honestly. “I think you were made for this life.”
Sir beams with pride. In the same way Master is capable in dominating men, whether they’re his sex partners, employees, or fellow bosses, Sir has a similar mastery over his environment—fishing, fixing machinery, and I can only assume, sailing. Master exudes control but Sir hassway, perhaps not so surprising for a man who seeks to harness the wind and command the seas.
“So…” he asks and tweaks my toe. “What is your sin, pretty baby?”
My sin is probably wanting to die, which would put me in the Wood of the Suicides, where the souls of the people who attempted or committed suicide are transformed into gnarled, thorny trees and then fed upon by Harpies for all of eternity. But this is too dark for Sir, and I don’t want to ruin his good mood.
“Seduction,” I tell him. “That’s the Eighth Circle, where I’ll be whipped by horned devils for an eternity.”
“This is not a punishment for you,” Sir says with a wicked smile, and I laugh out loud at his teasing. “We should get our parties together. You can seduce me, and I’ll whip you. We can see who comes first.” One of his grease-stained hands slides up my bare thigh and my legs part easily. I’ve never been so obvious with my sexual desire before Sir, but he revels in all things physical. “Have you ever been fucked on a boat before, Giovanni?” he asks, his voice low and erotic.
“No, Sir,” I tell him and wonder if he might take me right then.
“It’s not so bad.” He crawls over to me, so that he’s hovering above me and draws his nose along the center of my torso, from my neck to my navel. Droplets of his sweat splash onto my hot skin and I could swear I hear them sizzle. He licks one of my nipples slowly, then tugs on the gold hoop with his teeth. I betray my need with a moan, and he chuckles at my obvious desperation. I nearly ask—nearlybeg—for him to fuck me, but then he’s suddenly scooping me up to carry me to the side of the boat where he jumps into the water with me still in his arms.
As I’m kicking and splashing and fussing at him for what he’s done, I think perhaps Sir is cleverer than I thought; he has been seducing me all along.
13
I’m servicing Sir on my knees at the breakfast table one morning when he interrupts me to ask, “Giovanni, what color is your hair?”
“Blond?” I respond and wonder if he means my natural color.
“Blond?” He drags a finger along the part where my roots must be showing. “Valentin made you dye it?” he asks, incredulous.
“No, it was…” I pause, not wanting to go into all that. “It was necessary at the time.”
“But not anymore?”
I shrug. “Not really.”
He nods. “We will go to Naples tomorrow on my boat, and you will see my guy. I would like to fuck a blonde, I think.” He’s constantly teasing me about this mythical fucking that has yet to transpire.
“What about Anthony?”
Sir glances over to where Anthony is pointedly looking away. “Anthony, you want vacation?” he asks in English because Anthony is still learning the language. Anthony nods and Sir says to me, “This is the word, no?”
“A holiday.”
“A holiday, yes. We will take a holiday and leave your Master’s guard dog behind.”
Anthony is not Master’s guard dog. More like mine, it would seem. I don’t know if, like Sir, he’s reporting back to Master on my condition. I’ve received two letters so far from Master and spoken to him on the phone three times, mostly just to check in. He says that he misses me, that the apartment is too empty without me there, and that he hopes I’m being appreciative of his brother’s hospitality. Considering all the Fortuna cum I’ve ingested over the past couple of weeks, I’d say so.
“Well, princess?”
“Yes, Sir, I would like a holiday.”
“And the other thing?” he asks.
“I would like you to fuck me on your boat.”
He grins, playful and taunting. “We shall see.”
The weather is beautiful,a light wind out of the southwest, which Sir says is perfect for sailing. I’m lounging on the sun-splashed deck in my bathing suit when Sir asks, “Do you do anything other than look good on a boat, princess?”
