I nod. “Their acting could win awards. What do you like about it?”
“I like when they make goals, and the crowd goes ‘wooooo.’ I like when Napoli beats Roma because we are better. I’ll take you to a game sometime. You can see their acting up close. Would you like that?”
“Yes,” I say, almost shy.
“You must root for Napoli, though,” he warns. “There is no other.”
The game comes back on and I put my book away and try to focus on the appeal of the game. Sports, in general, are not an interest of mine, but if Sir wants to share his passion for soccer with me, then I will try to pay attention.
“I am thinking of getting a tattoo,” Sir says to me a little while later when the game is on commercial break.
“Of what?” I ask, not sure if I’d like any portion of my Sir’s beautiful skin marred by ink.
“Not what, but where,” he says waggling one eyebrow.
“Where would you get a tattoo, Sir?” I ask, indulging him.
“Right here.” He lifts his shirt to reveal that dark, silky trail of hair that leads to my happy place. “So you have something pretty to look at when you are sucking my dick.”
I grab a pillow and hit him in the face because he is just too ridiculous sometimes. He grabs me and pulls me on top of him and says, “What would you like a picture of, princess. The magnificentEvelina?”
“You’re going to tattoo your mother’s face right above your dick?” I tease.
“Not my mother,pervertito. My boat.”
“I’d rather you get a tattoo of your dick so I could look at it while I’m sucking it.”
Sir shoves my face into his armpit to make me smell him, and I take a nice deep inhale, which Sir appreciates. “You are obsessed with me,” he says, satisfied at last. When the game comes back, Sir continues to hold me so that I’m spread all over his glorious body and wrapped up in his arms.
Anthony returns from the post office a little while later and asks about the score. He tells me a letter has arrived from Master. I open it with eager fingers and begin to read it there on the couch, but the nature of Master’s letter is more appropriate for the bedroom. I ask for permission to be excused and Sir grants it, staring after me a little suspiciously.
In the bedroom, I pull back the duvet and sheets and lie down on the cool bedding wearing only my underwear. With it being so warm and at the end of summer, Sir and I don’t wear much around the property. Even Anthony is dressed down now, sometimes wearing only swim trunks and his gun holster. Sir insists that Anthony recreate from time to time as well. We suspect he may have a lover in town, because he often goes out at night when his shift is over and sometimes doesn’t return until the morning.
In the letter, Master recounts for me the first time he whipped me on his St. Andrew’s cross. I wasn’t bound to it but spread with my limbs and stomach pressed against the padded vinyl while holding onto the handles. We were a few months into the BDSM aspect of our relationship and Master was testing limits, his and mine. He’d only spanked me or flogged me up until that point, and he wanted to try something new.
The implement he used is called the Devil’s Tongue, aptly named because of its venomous bite. We were a few rounds into the impact portion of our scene when I just… broke. It was like something inside cracked wide open and all the pain and fear and anxiety I’d been holding onto came gushing out. I also pissed myself, but I sometimes do when Master whips me. I sobbed on the cross and the combination of my emotional release and the endorphins flooding my body sent me flying. It was a revelation too because I realized I might be able to leave heroin behind. It was also one of those rare occasions when my demons agreed.
Master had truly tamed me, and I felt such a deep appreciation for him, unlike any I’d ever felt before.
Your submission, Giovanni, was so beautiful, and it humbled me to see it…
Master narrates this to me in his letter, giving his perspective, which was his own realization of the depth of his feelings for me. Prior to that, he’d largely been holding back, using our lifestyle as a way to offer me discipline and structure, but in that moment and despite our age difference, he realized he wanted to make me his own. We talked about it the next day, what we were both feeling and what we wanted from our relationship, and that was when my slave training began in earnest.
I hear Master’s gravelly voice in my head as I roll around in his bedsheets, which still have traces of Sir and my fucking from this morning. When Master made the rule about not touching myself, I first cheated in the shower while he was at work, then tried to get away with it by rubbing my dick against the bedding and claiming it was an accident. Master caught onto that too, and punished me for a week that time. It was a necessary lesson to remind me that greed and lust are not the virtues of aschiavo.
Sir comes into the room while I’m slyly humping a pillow and says, “The letter is that good, huh?” I nod, red-faced and flush with desire. “Let me read it then.”
I hand it over because I don’t keep secrets from Master or Sir. Whatever they wish to know about me, they only have to ask, and as to what the two of them share, that is not this slave’s concern.
I watch Sir’s pupils widen as he reads Master’s provocative words. His fingers touch his mouth, another tell, and he licks his lips slowly before finally setting the letter aside.
“This is what you like?” he asks, and I can tell that he’s trying to be gentle, to understand. “This sort of treatment?”
“It’s more than just liking or even loving it, Ineedit,” I tell him honestly. People may assume my interest in BDSM is related to my trauma, but I don’t see it that way. If anything, the lifestyle allows me to escape my trauma and feel whole, because it's something my abusers haven’t been able to take away from me. I try to explain this to Sir.
“Master offers me the ability to explore and test my boundaries in a safe and consensual manner. Before Master, sex was mostly traumatic, but he’s shown me that it can be enjoyable, that I can take pride in my body and its abilities to bring pleasure to us both. Master has given me this gift and he reinforces it whenever he touches me.”
“And your Master needs it too?” Sir says, seeming to understand at last the depth of our commitment to each other, like finding your perfect complement and the piece that makes you whole.
