“What did you think?” I try to be as careful with Master’s emotions as he is with mine. Neither of us seek to make the other jealous if we can avoid it, as the fallout is seldom worth it.
“It made me wish I was the one there with you in that dirty bathroom stall.”
“It was a broom closet,” I tell him, “but itwasfilthy.”
“Yes, it was,” Master says with a slow but deliberate nod. “Did you like being shoved up against the door and fucked like a whore?”
“He didn’t…”But also, yes.
“He only made it look like it then. But the cum on your back was real?”
“Yes, it was.” I hold my breath.
“And you liked it?”
Though I’m reluctant to be completely truthful, lying to Master would be much worse. “I did.”
“Silvio does like to push my buttons.” I’m silent while Master studies me for a measure, then says, “And your hair.” Master approved it already, but seeing it is altogether different.
“Sir—I mean Silvio—suggested it.” I touch the top where it’s longer and a bit wavy. “What do you think?”
“I love it, Giovanni. You are my golden boy.”
It seems the moment has passed. Master is subdued, but he insists I finish my breakfast. I ask him about the family business, only as it relates to our current safety, because I notice he still wears the Aponte family ring.
“I decided to sell it off in pieces. I couldn’t trust things would be adequately run in my absence, and I didn’t want your grandfather’s name tarnished. The family business is no more, Giovanni, which means this ring belongs to you.” He begins to remove it and I halt him with a frantic,no. Master pauses and looks at me questioningly.
“Grandfather would want you to have it. And I do too.”
Master smiles and nods humbly. “It would be my honor.”
After my morning bowel movement, Master brings me into the playroom for my exam. When I first came to live with him, I had a lot of injuries that needed medical attention. Dr. Greyson came by regularly to check up on me. I was also re-traumatized and wouldn’t allow anyone to touch me except Master, so he learned through proxy how to examine me. He did this regularly my first year with him, including drug tests, and he still conducts these exams every few months or after a particularly strenuous scene. Master enjoys it because he likes having dominion over my body. Sometimes it leads to sex, but I never know when that will happen; Master likes to keep me guessing.
I climb onto his examining table and place my feet in the stirrups, then slide all the way to the end of the table so that my ass cheeks hang off the edge. Master lubes a metal speculum and inserts it into my rectum. Slowly, he presses the grip so that the cold metal expands, which is uncomfortable but not too painful. He inspects my tissues with his gloved finger and rubs the tip over my prostate.
“Has Silvio been milking you?” he asks. I glance away, and now I do feel guilty. “Giovanni?”
“No.”
“He’s been using you that much?” Master asks with a wrinkled brow.
“Silvio encourages me to… touch myself.” I burn with shame at the admission because this is a violation of one of Master’s cardinal rules.
“I see,” he says, and though he tries to hide his disappointment, I still feel it in the pit of my stomach.
“I’m sorry, Master. I didn’t—”
He holds up one hand to silence me, pulls off the glove, and deposits it into the trash, but he doesn’t remove the speculum. He lays a hand on my thigh and says, “I wasn’t here to enforce the rules, and you had to follow Sir’s lead, but I’m here now, Giovanni, and I think it would be best for me to give you a refresher on your virtues. What do you think?”
I nod with eagerness. “Yes, that is exactly what I need.” I don’t have to feel any guilt or remorse over what happened with Sir because Master will help me rectify my mistakes.
“Okay then. Let us begin.”
He starts by giving me an enema, which is not something I liked in the beginning but have come to appreciate over time. It’s similar to confession in a way, being purged entirely of one’s sins and impurities and feeling lighter and closer to God afterward.
I lie on my back, still on the examining table, while Master inserts the tubing into my rectum. He affixes the saline bag to the other end and sets a timer. I must hold the water inside me until the timer goes off. There’s a pan underneath me to collect the mess. My rectal cavity is painfully distended and the cramping toward the end is nearly unbearable, but Master shows no mercy (he never does) and instead, presses on my abdomen and counts down to make sure I don’t cheat. The relief I feel in letting go is diminished only a little by the noise of me evacuating my bowels, but this is how Master reacquaints himself with my body’s most intimate expressions, as its care and maintenance is his responsibility too.
“Very good,” Master says in appreciation. “How are you feeling?”
