I also make sure Master’s dungeon furniture is dusted and his leather implements are oiled since this room is off-limits to staff. Sir follows me in here too, asking questions about the various equipment, what it feels like and why I crave it.
I explain how the release is the closest I can get to the rush of heroin. Heroin is like a comforting hug that feels safe and warm, even if that’s not the case in reality. Subspace is a light, floaty sensation that can, at times, feel like flying. Both allow me to leave the physical realm and escape into the ether, which might be at the root of my cravings.
“The pain feels good in a psychological way too,” I say to Sir. “Every time Master disciplines me, I'm reminded of how important I am to him. Every time he punishes me for a transgression, I'm given a clean slate and a chance to start over, to be pure. A kind of baptism, I suppose.”
Sir lingers on the rope, which is not so surprising because it’s familiar to him from sailing. I’ve seen him tie intricate knots and thought about it myself, the deftness of his fingers and the pleasure he seems to derive in securing his possessions. People come to BDSM for all sorts of reasons, and many have nothing to do with trauma. And for as messy as he is on land, Sir does indeed run a tight ship.
“What about the rope appeals to you, Sir?”
“The trust,” he says and snaps a length of it between his strong hands. “The amount of faith your partner must have in you to allow themselves to be tied up and helpless.”
A shiver of arousal travels up my spine. “You should explore it more.”
Sir laughs and shakes his head, but I can tell he’s curious.
On the eve of Master’s return, Sir asks me to stay the night with him on his boat. He says he doesn’t want to ruin the clean sheets I’ve laid out for Master’s return, but I suspect he wants to fuck me on the magnificentEvelinaonce more before Master reclaims me.
Sir takes me apart slowly that night, sucking my cock and eating out my hole until I am a wanton, needy mess. Sir bruises my ass and hips and leaves hickeys all over my neck and chest, marking me as his property. I don’t worry too much about it, at least not in the moment when I’m begging him to get inside me, fuck me harder, take me to the height of bliss and drop me into a well of pleasure. He does this and more, fucking into me so deep and slow that when I finally come, I shed a couple tears too.
Later when he’s running his hands through my hair and kissing my neck softly, he says, “I think you should sail away with me, Giovanni.”
The thought is so romantic, but Sir must know that it will never happen. “I’ll never leave my Master.”
Sir sighs like this is the first time in his life he’s ever been denied something he wants. Knowing Sir, maybe it is.
I scrubmyself thoroughly the next morning, inside and out. Master will be here in just a few hours and I want to be presentable to his discerning eye.
I’m sitting naked on my pillow with my knees spread wide and my palms facing upward while Sir lounges on the couch with the television on, though I don’t think he’s paying much attention to it. I hear Master’s sharp heels clicking across the cobblestone courtyard and straighten my spine just before the door swings open. In my mind, I jump for joy but in reality, my body simply quivers with nervous anticipation.
I say a prayer of gratitude, that Master has come back to me, that he’s unharmed, and hopefully, he’s here to stay.
He is testing me, though. He thanks Anthony for the ride and dismisses him to take his luggage to his room. He greets Sir with a slap on the back and an enthusiastic hug. He asks for a drink and the two of them linger at the bar. They catch up on the business. Master enquires about the health of Sir’s mother. They talk about the property and Sir’s boat… All the while, I sit and wait. Master istrulytesting my patience.
Finally, he makes his way over to me. Sir is there with him, both men towering above me, their scents filling my nostrils and their voices reverberating in my bones.
“How did myschiavobehave in my absence?” Master asks.
“Perfect,” Sir says, a little bit gloomy.
“It appears you made good use of him,” Master says, likely noticing my fresh hickeys and bruises.
“He was enthusiastic in serving me,” Sir says a little bit arrogantly. “You’ve trained him well.”
“Hmmm,” Master says, and I fear I may expire right then from the suspense. “You should come by tomorrow afternoon for drinks, Silvio. I’d like to talk more then. Would you like to say goodbye to Giovanni?”
Sir squats down next to me and cups the back of my head with his hand. “Goodnight, princess.” These are the same words he says to me every night before falling asleep with the ease of a man who has no demons. He brushes his lips softly against my temple, stands, and then he is gone.
Only after Sir departs and we’re alone, does Master offer me his hand. I worship every knuckle with the reverence I’ve been banking in his absence. His smell is comfortingly familiar; his presence is as strong and stable as it’s ever been. When he finally cups my cheek, and I lift my head to gaze upon him, I beam with joy and relief because he’s here with me and he’s safe.
“I’ve missed you,schiavo,” Master says.
“I’ve missed you, Master.”
Master istired from his travels, but he allows me to undress him in the bedroom and bathe him in the shower. While the warm spray of water falls on me like the gentlest rain, I tend to his manhood with the love and devotion of his most humble servant. Master holds me to him afterward with my cheek pressed against his groin and strokes my hair. In bed, Master tells me again that he loves me and that he looks forward to catching up in the morning.
True to his word, Master asks me what I did in his absence at breakfast. I start with my “episode,” which I relayed to him already in one of our phone conversations, as well as how Sir calmed me down. I tell him about sailingEvelinaand dancing at a nightclub and becoming a Napoli soccer fan.
“I believe Silvio sent me a picture of you from said nightclub,” Master says, watching me closely for any reaction.
