“Sir looked upset,” I say to Master after he makes me rinse my mouth out and drink a full bottle of water.
“Yes, he was. He doesn’t agree with the way I handle myschiavo.”
“I’ve tried to explain it to him.”
“I’m sure that you have,tesoro,even though that’s not your job.”
“Are you angry at me?” None of the things Master has done to me are new or even out of the ordinary, but I can’t help but feel he’s taking my misconduct a little too personal.
“Why would I be angry with you?” Master asks, his eyebrows dipping in concern.
“Because I didn’t follow the rules, because when Sir touched me, I liked it. And because I didn’t think about you every minute of every day.”
I feel so bad then because even if I didn’ttechnicallydo anything wrong, it still feels like I did. Master pulls me into his arms and holds me tight. “You did nothing wrong, Giovanni,” Master assures me. “It is your Master who stayed away for too long. You did exactly as I asked, and I’m so very proud of you. I’ve come back to find you healthy and happy, and that’s all that I wanted. Your Sir has a lot to learn about our lifestyle and I will address that with him directly. Now, what have I told you before about the talk between men?”
“That it is not this slave’s concern.”
“That’s right. Let me handle your Sir, and you worry about pleasing your Master. That is the only thing I ask of this slave right now.”
This is not my problem to fix. Master knows what to do and he’ll take care of it, like always.
I talkto Rebekah about it later that week. I’ve been keeping up with my weekly therapy appointments since leaving New York. Like Master, she’s been supportive in my explorations with Sir. She says she understands my need for safety and security, and while the reasons I’ve wanted to limit my interactions with society and especially strangers these past few years are valid, she thinks that broadening my social circle is a step in the right direction. She even mentioned that it might be time for me to make some friends. That word, “friend” leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, but I try to let it go.
“Rico is my friend,” I tell her. His number is now programmed into my phone. We’ve spoken on occasion, and I’ve talked to his wife Gabriela a few times too. They’re back in New York and have opened an Italian restaurant that I suspect Master helped finance. Master rewards loyalty in his employees, and I’m happy that Rico’s chosen a less risky profession. Master says the food is delicious, especially the beefbraciola, and he’ll take me there next time we visit New York.
“What about Anthony?” she asks.
I groan, then feel a little bad about it. Luckily, he’s not hovering at the moment. “I’m trying really hard to like Anthony, but he says the dumbest shit sometimes.” Rebekah chuckles at that and I ask her, “Can I count Sir as my friend?”
“I’d like your friends to be people you are not sexually intimate with. People who can offer you an outside perspective on things, related or unrelated to your lifestyle.”
After this exchange, which is something of a warmup, I get into the crux of my problems.
“Sir and Master are fighting,” I tell her. I explain to her the tension between the men and their attitude toward each other, which has been frosty as of late. Master has not offered my services to Sir, which is just as well since Sir hardly looks at me when we’re in each other’s company. It upsets me because Sir was more than happy to fuck me when we first met, before he even knew me, so what does it mean that he doesn’t want to fuck me now? That once he learned I have thoughts and feelings like anyone else, I’m suddenly a person where I wasn’t one before?
I tell Rebekah this and that it reminds me of the Fifth Avenue party that one of my “friends” was hosting when I blacked out and they passed me around as a dare. All of a sudden because I wasn’t in control, because I couldn’t say no, I was no longer a person. Whatever Master and I do together—no matter how degrading it may appear to others—it isalwayswith my consent.
“It sounds like this shifting dynamic between you and Sir is bringing up a lot of residual feelings you may have about that time in your life, and the ways in which your trust and your body were violated.”
One of the things I appreciate about Rebekah is her ability to speak clinically about such matters, because I don’t want to go into a panic spiral or a demon tantrum every time the subject comes up.
“I feel betrayed by Sir, and I feel like I’ve caused a rift between Master and his brother. Master says it’s not my fault, but I can’t help but feel guilty.”
“Tell me, Giovanni, what is it that you feel guilty about? And try to be specific.”
I tell her some of the reasons for my guilt, breaking Master’s rules, the tarnishing of my virtues, and the pleasure I took from a man who was not my Master. The fact that Sir doesn’t get why I would submit to Master in the way that I do. The remorse I feel because I can’t seem to make him understand.
“You care about what your Sir thinks of you,” Rebekah says.
“Yes.”
“You want him to like you, as a person and as a lover?”
The last word makes me a little uncomfortable, but I respond affirmatively.
“Tell me, Giovanni, and try to be really honest with yourself, have you developed feelings for your Sir?”
I close my eyes and imagine Atlas with the weight of the world on his shoulders. I feel similar because this is at the root of my guilt and shame. “I’m feeling conflicted, Rebekah. I’m used only serving only my Master, but I’ve become… accustomed to Sir’s way of doing things and I don’t want to lose him… as a friend.” Regardless of how Rebekah defines “friend,” it feels much safer than “lover.”
