“Yes,” he says, nodding. He agrees to things too quickly.
“There will be times when we step out of the dynamic to discuss matters, man-to-man, but other than those specified times, I will be your Dominant twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”
“My Master,” he says with a kind of fervor. The word also elicits a certain thrill in me.
“And you would be my slave. Myschiavo.” I try it out for myself, liking it better in my native tongue. “What does that mean to you, Giovanni, in the practical sense?”
“I would be your domestic and sexual slave. To be used at will whenever you desire it. It would mean all of my focus and attention is devoted to pleasing and serving you.”
I rub my hand along my pant leg but what I’d really like is to be stroking my cock.
“This doesn’t mean you can’t still pursue other interests. Your music or your academics.” I’m careful not to sayschoolbecause that concept is still too formidable to him.
“I play my music every day. And I read my books. I study. I share my thoughts with you and we debate. I am enlightened and enriched by your perspective.”
“What about making friends?”
“Friends will betray you,” he says in the other voice, the one that always raises a chill on the back of my neck.
“Not all friends will betray you.”
“Your lover left you for one of your friends,” he reminds me, not necessarily to be callous but to make a point.
“Well, I still have others I can count on.”
He glances away to stare out the window. “Is my having friends a condition of this dynamic?” he asks, almost coldly.
“No, but I will continue to encourage you to expand your horizons, which means interacting with the world outside my penthouse.” He sits up with some discomfort so that the sheet pools around his waist, only half covering his nudity. He is the living embodiment of an erotic portrait, the boy in my bed.
“I’m safe here in your penthouse with you. The voices are quieter, the cravings are less. I’ve been behaving. Sir overestimates this boy’s ability to resist the temptations the world has to offer. If Sir lets this boy loose, there’s no telling what he’ll do. How easy it is to… succumb.”
It’s not a threat. At least, I don’t believe he means for it to be.
“You’re getting stronger every day,” I remind him.
“This boy does not wish to tempt the fates.”
“Nor do I.” I reach for his hand. Giovanni needs me, and I believe he’s fond of me too, but the former supersedes anything else. “It means more training for you. If you thought I was strict about you being my submissive, I’m going to be exacting about your training as my slave. I’m going to expect only the best from you in all respects.”
“When has this boy every shied away from your discipline?” he asks, put out.
“Never.” He stares at me, waiting for an invitation or perhaps a proposal. “Giovanni.” I bring his hand to my lips and kiss his smooth, unblemished knuckles. “Il mio bel ragazzo, will you pledge your submission to me completely and consent to being myschiavo?”
The smile that lights up his face is beatific, and then he dips his head demurely and says in his most subservient tone, “Whatever Master desires, this slave wishes only to serve.”
15
“Patience, humility, subservience, gratitude… these are the virtues of aschiavo.”
I say this to Giovanni while he poses on a low pedestal I’ve brought in for this evening’s event. He’s showered already with his damp hair brushed back from his face. The scars on his arms are covered in makeup (at his insistence), and I’ve dusted him from head to foot in a gold powder that makes his skin shimmer like the precious metal.
We discussed already what may change in our dynamic, namely boundaries and expectations. We reviewed our list of desires and limits now that Giovanni has more experience, and we made some amendments. Now, as I fasten the gold cage around his cock, I continue with my lecture, “These virtues are what tonight is all about, Giovanni.”
“This slave seeks to represent his Master well.”
I pocket the key to his cage and take out another piece of jewelry, if one could call it that. It’s a gold-plated butt plug, made by the same jeweler who designed his cage. I’m sure the man is wondering what I’ll ask for next. I take Giovanni’s hand and place it in his palm. “This is for you.”
His smile is wide and unabashedly excited. He turns it over to see I’ve had it engraved withschiavo. “I love it, Master. This slave will wear your gift with pride.” His brow furrows. “Or is it humility?”
