“And what do you want, Giovanni?” Leandro asks, his voice taking on a more authoritative tone than before.
“I want to… um.” He swallows, glancing between us.
“You may call me Leandro,” he says, understanding Gio’s reluctance to address anyone other than me as Sir.
“Thank you, Leandro. I would like to… escape my body? When Master and I scened together, he took me to a place of not thinking, not being, a place that was quiet and calm.”
“Subspace,” Leandro says.
“It’s not just subspace. When Master hurt me, it was more… obliterating? I’m not sure if that’s the right word. I’m still learning the language.”
“You speak very well for a non-native.”
“Thank you. It was important to Master that I become proficient.” Giovanni catches my eye, and I wonder if he made the effort for me, specifically. Does he miss speaking in his mother tongue?
We go into the dungeon next, a small but tidy room with wood paneling, warmer and more inviting than if it had been left as bare concrete. It smells of leather and lemons, perhaps from the oil used to treat the implements. Leandro invites Giovanni to acquaint himself with the instruments and Gio steps up to an entire wall of whips and harnesses hung like tack in a stable.
“You may touch them,” Leandro says at Giovanni’s obvious hesitation.
He runs his elegant fingers over the leather with reverence. Some he takes off their hooks and holds in his hands. Leandro watches for a few minutes, then strolls over to share various anecdotes about where he acquired the tool or how it is used, even though the latter, Giovanni is likely familiar with already. Giovanni is timid, but I recognize the quiet yearning in his eyes.
“Would you like to choose your implement?” Leandro asks and Gio’s big eyes search mine. I nod my approval, and he turns back to the wall of options.
“This one, Leandro.” He removes what looks like a long belt with a wooden handle, split down the middle so that it has not one but two lashing tongues.
“That’s a tawse,” Leandro says. “A Scottish instrument designed as a corporeal punishment for errant schoolboys. It can be very painful when used aptly.”
“Master used to beat me with something similar as a reward for good behavior.”
“Then you must have beenverygood,” Leandro says and Gio smiles bashfully. He hands the implement to Leandro, who runs one hand lovingly over the leather, similar to how Valentin would handle his own instruments.
“Bare skin?” Leandro asks.
“Yes, Leandro.”
“Pull down your pants and underwear, all the way to your ankles and brace yourself against that bench over there. Silvio, if you’d care to have a seat?” Leandro points to a leather divan, and it’s only then that I realize I’ve been hovering. I try to appear relaxed even while every nerve in my body hums with tension.
Giovanni drops his shorts and underwear to his ankles, rucks up his t-shirt, then leans against a spanking bench and holds onto both grips. Seeing his ass bared like that, it’s a natural reaction for me to get hard. I don’t try to fight it.
“Spread your legs wider, sub,” Leandro says. Giovanni steps out of his clothing to widen his stance. If it were Valentin, he would rub a hand over Gio’s buttocks and thighs to settle him, but that might be interpreted as a sexual touch. Giovanni’s shoulders heave with every shuddering breath, back rippling with tension. I’d like to remind him to relax, but I don’t want to disrupt their scene.
“First, I’m going to warm you up with some light slaps. Color?”
“Green, Leandro.”
“Color, Silvio?” Leandro asks.
“Green,” I say with a little less confidence.
“Cominciamo.”Let’s begin.
The first few times the belt makes contact are just light taps, almost teasing, meant to acquaint Giovanni with the implement and loosen him up.
“Very good, Giovanni. We’ll do three rounds of ten. Each set will be more painful than the last. Remember, you have your safewords if you’d like to stop or slow down.”
“Yes, Leandro.”
The first flick of the belt is accompanied with the sharp slap of leather hitting skin. Giovanni flinches, then juts out his ass almost stubbornly. Leandro delivers another, and another, each one with a sharp, biting thwap. The tawse leaves a forked pattern with the edges darker than the rest as Gio’s skin transforms from a sun-kissed gold to a bright, blushing pink.
