“I could tie him up for you,” Keller offers.
“No restraints, hard limit. And no sharing.”
“Really?” I can tell from his voice that he’s devastated by the news.
“Yes, really.”
Keller tells me the theme of the party and says he’ll send over the details. I assure him I’ll let him know my answer soon. By this time, Giovanni has taken up the spot beside me, kneeling on a pillow. Crusted saliva marks his mouth and chin, and his expression is wholly repentant as he awaits my next order. I remove the ball gag and wipe his face, then attempt to smooth down his hair while offering him a few gentle caresses.
“How are you doing?” I ask because he looks as though he’s about to cry. “You know, even when you displease me and need to be reprimanded, I still care for you deeply.”
He nods without speaking, his lower lip trembles, and then he does begin to cry. Sobbing, really. Big, fat tears and long, shuddering breaths. The sadist in me delights at his outburst. His pain is so genuine and raw, putting his soul on display. I smile softly at this outpouring of emotion.
“Come up here with me, sweetheart.” Giovanni crawls onto my lap and I stroke him for a little while. He buries his face in my shoulder and after a bit more crying, begins to calm down. “What are you thinking?”
“That I broke your trust for a stupid reason and I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again.”
Knowing his lack of impulse control and high libido, I predict he will break this particular rule again, but that’s what these lessons are for. “What is our rule regarding trespasses?”
“Boys will admit their transgressions promptly.”
“And boys will answerallof their Dominant’s questions truthfully.”
“Yes, Sir,” he says, still with his brow lowered. I lift his chin with my knuckle so that I may look at him.
“I forgive you,tesoro, and I believe you’ve learned your lesson. Come with me.”
We go into the playroom, and I remove the cage. Then I wrap him in a comfy robe and lead him out to the couch where I make him drink a glass of lemonade. Giovanni lays his head on my lap and sucks on my fingers while I read to him from the newspaper.
“Keller’s having a birthday party,” I say to him after a little while. “He’s invited both of us to attend.” Giovanni glances up at me. “It’s a sex party,” I tell him and before he can ask, “No one but me will touch you. How would you feel about going?”
“This boy defers to his Sir to know if he’s ready for such an outing. Sir knows best what this boy can handle.”
I nod, pleased by his response. “That’s a very good boy.”
9
“I’m having lunch with my friends tomorrow, and I wanted to know how you would feel about me sharing some personal information about you.” I say this to Giovanni a couple days later. I typically don’t divulge the details of my workday schedule with him, but this lunch date has largely to do with him.
“What kind of personal information?” he asks.
“Only that you have some sexual trauma in your past and you’re in recovery from addiction. I’d like you to be comfortable in their presence. And if we’re going to attend parties with strangers, I might need their help to make sure you’re protected and feel safe.”
“Anything else?” he asks.
“I’d like to show them pictures too if you consent. It’s our version of sharing vacation photos or pictures of our children.”
Children was an odd choice, I think, especially considering none of us have kids, though I still see glimpses of Giovanni as a child, the boy he once was and the man he’s becoming.
“Show them to me first,” he says, then hastily tacks on, “Sir.”
I gather the stack of Polaroids I’ve stored in the top drawer of my desk in the study and invite Giovanni to sit with me so we can go through them together. There is the first erotic picture I took of him with his face decorated in my cum—pearly white splashed across golden skin like milk and honey—a few of him modeling his new underwear, one of him showing off the results of his waxing, a candid of him in the shower with water beaded up on his skin, one he took of both of us selfie-style on the terrace where he’s sitting on my lap in his new underwear while I smoke a cigar. There’s a close-up of his bruised ass after I spanked him, the most recent one of him in the ball gag, a close-up of his cock in a cage, and several more of him sucking my dick. Eyes opened or closed, I like the look of him with his smart mouth full of my cock.
“There are no action shots,” he says. “Of me ejaculating. You have to offer up at least one money shot, Sir. I insist.”
I shake my head at his antics. “You just want another orgasm.”
“I don’t want your friends assuming I’m a passive participant like your other subs.”
