“Yes,” I nod, already getting that delicious squirmy feeling that is both fear and arousal at what he intends to do.
Master’s smile is depraved as he looks me over. “Well, happy fucking birthday to me.”
Hours later after Master has used only the implements God gave him—hands, teeth, and nails—he sits me between his legs at the edge of the bed so that I may gaze into his mirrors and see his version ofBoy with a Basket of Fruit.
“What do you think, Giovanni?” he asks. There are scratches everywhere except for my face and bruises already beginning to bloom across my ribs and chest from Master digging into them with his strong fingertips. They form a Rorschach pattern that will be even more vibrant tomorrow. My lower lip is torn where Master bit me, and my genitals are similarly red and swollen from his pinches and slaps to match the ripeness of the fruit in my basket, my punishment for tempting a man with such dark passions. “Have I sufficiently cured you of your curiosity about a man’s touch?”
I touch the tender constellation of bruises, then reach between my legs to feel where my abused hole still gapes, dripping his seed.
“No one will ever hurt me the way you do,” I say with some regret as I catch his eye in the mirror. “Will they, Master?”
He kisses my neck and my shoulder, staring at me with the bottomless hunger of an addict, at once so familiar and so comforting. “I don’t know,tesoro. All I know is that what we have is very, very special. And very potent.”
Master’s hand drifts again to my neck where he gently squeezes.
“Do you ever fantasize about killing me?” Master has killed several people and I can only hope that, like the scum my mother forced upon me, they all deserved it. I seldom think about it, my Master’s capacity for murder, except in rare moments like these.
“I love you too much to ever harm you like that,” Master says, loosening his hold on my throat and kissing the side of my head. “And if you ever did that to yourself, Giovanni, I wouldneverforgive you. You would break my heart and hurt me like no one else ever has. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Tell me the words,schiavo. I wish to hear them.”
“This body is a temple that belongs to my Master, meant for his pleasure, to be defiled and violated only by him. It is this slave’s sacred obligation to take good care of themselves because they are Master’s most precious possession.”
“That’s right,tesoro, only I’m allowed to hurt you.”
Even more than his gifts and acts of devotion, this is how I know my Master truly loves me.
19
I’m in position on my velvet pillow, awaiting Master’s attentions, when the hand that cups my face begins to tremor.
“Master.” I look up at him with concern. “What’s wrong?”
He studies his trembling hand as if it has betrayed him and says, “must be my adrenaline.”
That’s understandable. I often tremble before and during scenes. Even so, the moment is a little unsettling because I’m so used to Master being steady in all things.
“Have you been to the doctor lately?” I ask him the next morning over breakfast.
“I saw Dr. Greyson before I left New York and had my yearly bloodwork done.”
“And?”
“My blood pressure and cholesterol looked good, and my heart is surely benefiting from your strict diet.”
The last bit is said teasingly, as Master sometimes complains about my habit of steering him away from buttery pastas and red meat to fish and grilled chicken and steamed vegetables. Even still, I review his medications more closely to make sure there are no additions or subtractions. I’ve gotten so comfortable doling out the pills according to their color and shape that I haven’t paid much attention lately to what Master is taking, I’m reassured to learn they’re all the same medications as before.
A week or so later, Master stumbles while getting out of the shower.
“Master?” I shout, alarmed at what could have been a nasty fall on the unforgiving marble.
“I’m fine, Giovanni,” he says and waves away my concern. “It’s just low blood sugar.”
I make him sit in his recliner and drink an entire glass of orange juice.
“Feeling better?” I ask when he finishes.
