When Sir is finished, he pulls away to smile at me crookedly and wipe my messy mouth with his thumb. “Grazie,Giovanni, you may go back to the party now.”
I bow my head in deference and leave the men to their conversation.
When I return to Alessia, she shakes her head and smirks. “You are one lucky little slut.”
With the taste of my Sir still on my lips, I smile smugly and tell her, “Yes, I am.”
Dinner isa feast on the veranda. With caterers brought in from Naples to handle the food prep and service, I’m content to sit between my Master and Sir on my velvet pillow and be fed by their hands. Other subs either dine at the table or on the floor, according to their own rules and protocol, but most of the conversation is limited between Dominants. In Master’s company, even the brats behave.
After dinner, the Doms depart to take a tour of Master’s dungeon while the subs help clear the table and set the veranda to rights. I enjoy the communal aspect of our gathering and the way we have both our individual roles and shared responsibilities. Growing up in an isolated countryside manor without formal schooling, this sort of cooperation is somewhat foreign to me, but I enjoy having the camaraderie of so many others in the lifestyle.
Once that’s complete, the Doms return to claim their subs. Some take them to the dungeon to practice for tomorrow’s all-day demonstration. Some retire to their rooms to rest after the long journey. A few go down to the beach to stargaze. Master will retire early tonight, after drinks with Sir Simeon, one of his oldest and dearest friends, so I’m left in the care of Sir. We walk down to the beach with a few others and lounge around a bonfire with blankets. I lay my head in Sir’s lap and he strokes my hair.
“I have a surprise for you, princess,” Sir says a little while later and opens his hand to show me the key to my cage.
“Where did you get that?” I ask, astonished.
“Where do you think?”
“Master gave it to you?”
“When Master is away, Sir will play.”
Sir uncages me and rolls with me on the blanket, touching and groping and turning me into a hungry little cum slut begging for his attentions. He torments my prostate with the plug, then removes it altogether, filling my thirsty hole with his thick, questing tongue. There are other couples and throuples on blankets of their own doing very much the same.
“Sir teases this slave too much,” I whine when I feel as though my flesh might tear through my skin to get to him.
“What do you want, princess?” Sir whispers with two slick fingers already thrusting inside me.
“I want you,Signore, always.”
When Sir enters me at last and we are moving in time with the crashing of the waves, I imagine I’m a big fish being speared by his trident, and even the roar of the ocean cannot drown out my rapturous wails.
Sir wakesme early the next morning where we’ve fallen asleep on the beach and tells me my service is required by Master in the steam room. “Come along, little princess,” Sir says with a sly smile when I am slow to rise. He reattaches my cage and brushes most of the sand off my body. I’m still a little drowsy when I enter the steam room with Sir leading me by hand to find Master waiting for me along with a handful of his closest friends. Ah, yes, my something special.
“Good morning,schiavo,” Master says and invites me to join him within his small knot of friends.
“Good morning, Master.”
“Did you sleep well?” he asks as I kneel before him.
“Yes, Master, very well.”
Master rises to stand before me, his robe falling away to expose his ripe manhood. The other men follow suit, arranging themselves in a tight circle around me. “Color, Giovanni?” he asks.
“Green, Master.”
“Proceed.”
I nurse Master’s cock with eager devotion while the other men begin stroking their own. So many ripe fruits with bulbous dripping heads, unique in their shapes and sizes but all so similar in their functions and their pleasures—wanting to be sucked and fondled, to be nested in tight places and brought off with sweet friction, wanting to be worshipped, adored, and praised as lesser gods. A man will forgive a lot if you are generous in pleasing his cock; they are wonderfully simple in this way.
At first, I try to identify their owners, but then I think, what does it matter, really? With my attentions focused solely on my Master, I close my eyes and start to drift with the noises of skin and panting and arousal. I’m still trying to coax the seed from my Master’s organ when the first warm shower splashes against my cheek. Master pulls me off by my hair so that he may join his fellows in decorating my face. Their hot ejaculate marks my forehead, my eyelashes, and my chin in an erotic frenzy.
“Apri la bocca, principessa,” Sir murmurs, and I open my mouth and stretch my tongue to make myself a better receptacle for his bounty. Sir shoots his impressive load directly into it, getting only a little on my lips and chin. “Goditelo,” he commands with a rough lust that I have come to know well.Savor it.
When the last of their seed has bathed my skin, Master asks Sir to take a picture for us, then uses his thumbs to wipe the globules of cum from my eyelids. I stare up at my Master with complete adoration and appreciation for this gift.
“Giovanni?” Master prompts.
