“You wanted to kiss me,” I say, and his silence confirms it. “Or maybe you wanted to fuck me.”
“I wanted to do both.”
“So, why didn’t you?” I ask, petulant.
“Giovanni.”
“Why didn’t you take me then?” I ask, bitter at all that I had to endure because Master was slow to act. Like my grandfather who knew my mother was a rabid bitch long before he put her down. “Why did you wait?”
“You weren’t mine, Giovanni. You had a future. You had—” he interrupts himself.
“I had potential,” I finish for him.
“Youhavepotential. You are exactly where you should be. Safe, stable, and getting stronger every day.”
“You must have known what would happen to me.” I was spiraling long before Master collected my brutalized body from the park bench where I’d been dumped the next morning like a piece of garbage. I told Master I didn’t know who’d done it, because he would have given them the same treatment as he did my mother’s boyfriend. There would be no in-between.
“I thought you might persevere. You are strong, Giovanni. You always have been. What happened to you back in—”
“Yellow,” I say without any hesitation. He swallows and I can hear him breathing, can feel the pressure of his chest rising and falling against my back. “I’m sorry, Master, I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’ll discuss it with Rebekah at our next therapy session.”
His arms wrap around me in a comforting embrace and then he says very slowly in his stern Dominant voice, “Take off your pants, spread your legs, and brace yourself against the glass.”
Yes,my mind says before my body even thinks to react. I shiver when the night air hits my ass and caged cock. I kick away the leather and lean forward with my palms flat against the glass, arms and legs bent slightly. The weight of the gold necklaces tugs on my nipples as they tighten in the chilly air.
“You’re right, Giovanni,” he says, one hand sliding down the slope of my back. “I should have claimed you then and made you mine, but since I cannot go back in time, I will do it now.” He manipulates the plug so that it drags against my gland. My cock tries to inflate but it can’t. “The cage stays on as a reminder that you are a kept boy, that I own you. How do slave boys earn their orgasms?”
“Through service to their Masters,” I respond, grateful for his dominance and his willingness to put me in my place.
“Color?”
“Green.”
I hear the rasp of his zipper, followed by the wet slick of his hand oiling his cock. He keeps oil and lube everywhere around the apartment, in decorative decanters and beautiful stoppered bottles. It comes in handy for parties too. Master tugs out the plug and pockets it while my cock fights with the metal cage, but it will not win. The futility of the effort is another reminder that Master is the one in charge.
He enters me with one long stroke and my body accepts him readily. I’d only ever been raped before him or fucked when high out of my mind. Master took his time teaching me that my body could also be used for my own pleasure. Now, his penetration is something I crave. The burn is delicious, the squeeze of my muscles around his dick so satisfying; my prostate is already stimulated by a long night wearing the plug, so every drag of his velvety skin feels like a match being struck. The cage prevents much sexual satisfaction, but the real reward isn’t my own climax, it’s in pleasing my Master.
His hand slides along my hip and he says, “Do you want to know how many times I thought about your smart mouth warming my cock?”
“Yes, Master,” I growl.
“How many times I imagined you falling to your knees before me in worship?”
“Yes, Master.”
“How I wondered if you chosemyclub to shake your ass as a way to tempt me into doing bad things to you?”
I nod, tears forming at the corners of my eyes. He used to have his men invite me up for a drink in his private booth, saying very little but listening to me talk and watching me with his piercing gaze. I’d always thought it was out of respect for my grandfather. I didn’t think I had much to offer a man like him, though I would have tried. He could have taken me any one of those times and I’d have gone willingly.
“The real question,schiavo,” he says as his hips smack ruthlessly against my ass cheeks and his dick hammers away, nailing my prostate. “Is why didn’t you fall before the feet of your Master?”
My voice is a howl when I cry out, “I wish that I had.”
Master is quiet then, approaching his climax. My cock dribbles a steady stream of fluid, signifying my own aborted orgasm. The sensation on my prostate is unbearable, like being punched in the nuts from the inside. Master finishes at last with a primal roar, pumping inside me a few more times and forcing me backward in order to receive him.
“I’m sorry,” I say as I’m finally released from the dark hands that had been grasping at me all night.
“We couldn’t have known,tesoro,” he says softly, “but we do now.”
