“You liked that?”
“I liked you demonstrating your dominance over me. Claiming me in front of them so they know I’m yours.”
He wants more.
“What about the demonstrations did you like?”
“The whipping. And the spanking.”
“Anything in particular you’d like to try?”
He looks to the side, bashful. I grip his chin and turn his head back toward me. “No hiding. What is it?”
“Sir Simeon kissed Blaine after he sucked him off.”
I’m taken aback by his simple request. It’s not an oversight on my part that we’ve never kissed but a reluctance to give that part of myself away again. Dominant and sub is one thing, but lovers?
“You want me to kiss you?” I ask. He nods, uncharacteristically tentative and shy.
I lean down and kiss his forehead, then the tip of his nose. Our noses brush against one another, and his mouth parts easily when I press against his lips. It starts out aggressive, hungry—me taking what I want from him—but melts into something far more tender. His pillowy lips and pliant mouth give way to my every interrogation. Giovanni gives of himself so freely in everything we do, always inviting me to take more and more, testing my resolve in every way. No amount of physical denial on my part can diminish the emotional connection we share or the power he holds over me, even if he doesn’t know it yet. We break away and I touch his lips with reverence. So precious.
“I care for you very much,tesoro.”
His smile is soft and sweet when he says, “I love you too, Valentin.”
11
He wants more.
The thought plagues me over the next few days. The signs that have been there all along become more apparent to me now, glaring even… Giovanni serving me before himself, waiting to be invited to eat, asking my permission to use the restroom or change the channel on the television, seeking my counsel on everything from what to wear to how to comb his hair—all aspects of his life where I’ve taken control either subtly or overtly. But perhaps the most obvious one is how he waits for me to arrive home from work each evening, perched on the edge of the sofa looking beautiful and expectant. The transformation that takes hold of him when he first sees me, his glow. Has my influence over him grown so great or has it been there all along?
“I’d like you to come with me to work today,” I tell him one morning. We’ve just finished breakfast and he’s clearing the table.
“To work?” he asks as if I’d suggested we visit another planet.
“In Manhattan.” That’s where I conduct our legitimate businesses, mostly dealing with lawyers, developers, and lobbyists, as well as the occasional politician looking to get our endorsement in an upcoming election.
“Why?” he asks.
“I thought it might be good for you to get a sense of how the organization is run.”
“But I’m not interested in that,” he says, quite decidedly.
“Not now, but you might be in the future.”
“I won’t.”
I would tell him he’s too young to know what he wants, but I don’t want to belittle him or have this turn into an argument. “I want you to come with me, so dress sharp. I laid out your clothing on the bed already.”
He doesn’t move, only stares at me, plumbing the depths of my authority while a silent battle wages between us. Will he or won’t he?
“Yes, Sir,” he says at last and I exhale.
We’reon our way to my office. Giovanni tugs at his tie as if he’s never worn one before and finds this one extremely uncomfortable. I am reminded of the hanged Arachne. “You look nice,” I tell him and squeeze his knee for reassurance.
“How will you introduce me?”
“As my apprentice.”
