He says nothing, only hums, and then quietly, “Maybe.”
Now,we are back at Santino’s apartment. Giovanni stands at attention, chin raised, in our bedroom wearing only a clingy, flesh-colored dance thong as I dress him in only my rope. I’ve told him he cannot look until I’m finished, and he’s been very patient, as always, allowing me the grace to perfect my technique.
“The rope is so soft,” he says. “Is it made of silk?”
“Yes, custom-made. Purely decorative and not for suspension. I wanted something comfortable you could wear for several hours.”
“It feels heavenly.”
I rise from where I’ve been kneeling, having tied off the final knot on his ankle. I check the twin rope around his neck and the knot that lies like a pendant against the hollow of his throat. From there, it’s a series of loops that slant around his abdomen and hug the masculine V of his waist. They continue down one leg, all the way to his ankle, which makes it look like a sort of fancy cocktail dress.
I turn him around so he can see himself in the mirror.
“Oh,” he gasps and covers his mouth with both hands. “Silvio, it’s so… intricate.” He twists from side to side so he can take in every angle, including the back where the rope plunges in a V to the base of his spine.
“I left you a little tail here so I can tug on it from time to time.” I grasp it in one hand and give a little yank.
“I hope that you’ll treat it like a leash and not let me out of your sight. I feel like Cinderella in her beautiful ball gown.” He stretches his arms above his head and then lays one hand against the collar. “I like this very much.”
“Does it remind you of your collar?”
“A little.”
“Valentin was right. Gold suits you.”
“I love it,” he says, swiveling his hips back and forth. “I want to wear it forever. I’ll probably cry when you take it off.”
“No tears tonight, princess. Now, pose for me so I can get a picture.”
He stands in front of the window where the light is better and places both hands behind his back, assuming a quietly submissive posture, so elegant and handsome. I snap some pictures from that angle as well as a few of him sitting in the chair with one knee bent, showing off the ropework on his leg, and more of him on the bed where he positions himself on hands and knees like it’s an intimate boudoir shoot. With his ass on display and hair falling in his eyes, he glances back at me over one shoulder, tugging on his lower lip with his teeth.
“You’re too sexy, Giovanni,” I growl, suddenly lightheaded due to all the blood rushing to my dick.
“Who? Me?” he says innocently.
He rolls around in the bedding, striking increasingly provocative poses, trying to seduce me into ravaging him right then and there. I’m not looking at the camera anymore, just shooting blindly, too captivated by him to pay much attention to anything else.
“We could stay the night in,” he suggests. He draws his fingers along the silken threads in a highly suggestive manner, then pushes down on the elastic of his thong to give me a glimpse of his freshly waxed groin. His erection strains against the tight fabric, leaving behind a wet spot that I can practically taste. “I’ll do whatever you tell me, Sir. I’ll be your very best boy.”
I have no doubt that he would, but that isnotwhat’s on the agenda. I mentally shake myself from this heady stupor. “No, Giovanni. We’re going to dinner. I’m going to introduce you to my friends as my beloved boy, and you’re going to enjoy the company of interesting people.”
“Will I be kneeling beside you at dinner or…” He rises from where he’s been writhing against the pillows to kneel at the edge of the mattress with his legs spread wide enough that I could see his genitals if it weren’t for the form-fitting thong. His eyes are downcast, dark lashes fanning across his cheeks. This is how Valentin liked him—silent, obedient, and eager to serve.
“You’ll be sitting by my side. I want you to make charming conversation, remember?” He frowns, looking uneasy. “Risks, Giovanni. I’ll be there to help you, and if you need a break, just tell me. We’ll go outside or retire to our rooms. The important thing is that you try.” I take a step nearer to him and pet his golden hair, then draw my finger along his jaw and trace his pouty lower lip with my thumb. He draws my digit into his mouth and cradles it on his tongue, softly sucking. “You are a pretty little seducer,” I say in appreciation of his effort, then remove my thumb from his mouth. “But you’re not going to convince me to cancel our plans.”
“I’m not sure what I might have to offer your friends in the way of conversation, Sir. My mouth’s best use is for sucking your cock.”
I tut at his reticence. “You and Leandro practically conducted a lecture on pain and suffering on the train ride over.”
His lips purse in consternation. “We happen to have that in common. What will we do after dinner?”
“There will likely be drinks, a more intimate sort of conversation in the lounge, music perhaps. Some may wish to indulge in more sensual pursuits.”
“Sir, have you invited me to an orgy?” he asks, widening his eyes for effect.
I shrug. “You know the crowd. One thing sometimes leads to another.”
Giovanni leans toward my groin and nuzzles my hard cock through the fabric of my trousers, then lays his cheek against my bulge and looks up at me slyly. “If I behave well during dinner, may I have a reward?”
