Master stirs at last, his hand coming to rest on the back of my head, a silent encouragement to keep going. His cock is stiff already from his morning wood, and I lick along the bulging veins and up to his darker, bulbous crown. At the base of Master’s dick is a nest of salt-and-pepper hair that I mouth with my lips and tongue. I repeat this pattern, adding a swirl around his flared glans and teasing his foreskin with the tip of my tongue. When I finally take his full length into my mouth, Master’s hips start to move, thrusting upward. Sometimes he lets me finish him off here; other times he rolls me onto my back and fucks into my throat until I choke on his cum. Occasionally, he’ll let me ride him to completion, guiding me with only his hand on my neck. The most important thing for me to remember is that Master is the one in control.
For now, his strong hands cradle the base of my skull, fingers threaded in my hair to hold me in place, and I know what this means too. I relax my jaw and open my throat to receive him. Master fucks my face while grunting in time with his lunges, his strong hips slamming upward with my nose buried in his thick nest of hair. Master takes medication to increase his libido and help lower his blood pressure. He’s a competitive man, and when he realized how high my sex drive was, he found a way to match me.
His cock throbs with the oncoming release, and I’m ready for the first dose when it shoots like snake venom down my throat. I swallow rapidly to catch it all and savor the last few pulses of his cock still spitting its seed. Master has praised me for my tidiness, especially when he’s wearing nice pants. He’s brought me to his office in Manhattan a few times and had me sit under his massive mahogany desk and suck him off in between meetings. Nobody even knew I was there—except Rico, of course. Master says his dick gets raw by the end of the day, but I’m always happy to do it. Regardless, I’m very good at capturing his cum. With Master’s appetite now sated, I wait for him to soften completely, as I’m not permitted to pull away until he allows it.
“Very good, Gio,” Master says at last, and I finally rise to greet him, making sure to kiss his cock a few more times in appreciation before tucking him away. His hand cups my cheek, and he looks at me with love and tenderness. “Morning,tesoro. How did you sleep?”
“Very well.” No nightmares, no wetting the bed, no demons whispering in my ear.
“Is breakfast ready?”
“Yes. It’s on the balcony.”
Master grabs his robe and hands me mine to wear to ward off the morning chill. On the terrace, he pulls out my chair for me because Master is also a gentleman, and we sit down together. The newspaper is there for him already but he ignores it, choosing instead to watch me as we eat.
“Is your breakfast okay, Master?” I ask, wanting to make sure.
“Perfect as always.” He tidies his mouth with a cloth napkin and lays it on the table, sitting back to regard me thoughtfully.
“Does Master require his slave’s attention?” I sense that he wants something from me only he doesn’t know how to go about getting it. Master is rarely shy, but it does happen occasionally. He comes from a modest background and lacks the ingrained sense of entitlement rich men are born into. He is cultured and mannered because he has worked hard to become the man he is today.
“How are you feeling,schiavo?” he asks at last.
“I’m feeling well, Master.”
“Are you in pain?”
“Not much.” Today it’s only a light ache, like the day after a hard workout with Phillipe, my trainer.
“And how are the voices?” He studies me carefully. Master calls them voices, not demons because he doesn’t like to think of me as wicked.
“They’re quiet,” I tell him, though they begin to sit up and take notice at the strange turn in our conversation.
Master nods and gazes out at the bay. There’s an eight-foot wall of tinted, bulletproof glass surrounding the terrace so that we can see out, but others cannot see in. Master has fucked me against it quite a few times, an exhilarating thrill as I imagine that it’s his cock alone that keeps me from tumbling to my death. Master had the glass installed when I moved in with him to deter me from jumping over the edge of the balcony. It’s a long way down from up here, and the demons are sometimes very convincing.
“We need to talk about the family business,” he says at last. “Man-to-man.”
My whole body stiffens and Master notices that too. It’s been a while since Master has brought up the family business, which is how I prefer it.
“What about it?” I ask, my tone a warning.
“I’ve been running the show for a few years now, and I’m content to do it a little while longer, but I’d like to know what you want for yourself. Whether you think this is a role you’d like to step into, in the future as… as Matthew.” He says the name with a note of caution because he knows I find it offensive. The only way I could reclaim my title would be to assume that identity. I had hoped my “death” would put the issue to rest, but as I’ve said before, my Master is a humble man.
I study the gold-leaf pattern on the fine porcelain plate in front of me. For Master gold is a signifier of his prosperity, like King Midas with the golden touch. He prefers my blond hair for the same reason, but dyeing it helps me maintain my anonymity.
“Matthew is dead,” I tell him. “Remember, Master, he was dead that day you found him in Central Park, covered in feces and blood and other men’s cum.”
Poor, poor Matthew.
Master purses his lips and studies me. I wonder sometimes if I’m worth the trouble. With Master’s distinguished looks and money, he could get any number of beautiful men to service him, to worship him, without so much hassle. “What are the voices saying now,tesoro?”
“They don’t want to hear about Matthew or the family business. They want you to—” I’m about to sayshut the fuck up, but I catch myself in time. I will not be so disrespectful. “They want you to stop.” I could use my safeword if I wanted, but it would only invite more conversation, and I’d rather him lay this matter to rest once and for all.
“I have your grandfather’s legacy to consider. This was only ever a temporary solution.”
“My grandfather never designated me his heir.” He knew better than to make such an egregious mistake.
“Tesoro, you were seventeen,” Master says with sympathy. There’s so much pain in my past that I’ve had to compartmentalize in order to survive, and I’m bitter at him for forcing me to face it today when the demons were sleeping.
