Ipersuade Giovanni to come with me to Napoli one weekday afternoon under the guise of drinks and an early dinner with Leandro, a meal which passes pleasantly enough under the mild temperatures of late spring. I am hopeful that with time and exposure, Giovanni might consider Leandro a friend and perhaps even agree to scene with him again. It seems promising that they are now discussing the pros and cons of natural canes versus synthetics.
“Master was a purist in many ways,” Giovanni says. “And many of his toys he’d had for decades, so he became quite attached. He once broke his rattan cane on my ass, it was older than me, and though he tried to hide it, I could tell he was very upset about it. It took him months to find a new one. That’s why it’s important that I keep your ropes in good condition, Sir,” he says to me because I am sometimes lax about it. “The implement is really an extension of the Dominant, and when you don’t have your favorite toys, I imagine it feels like losing a limb.”
“I appreciate your dedication, Giovanni,” I say and chuck his chin.
“If I had a regular sub and didn’t have to worry so much about disinfectant, I might lean toward the more natural materials,” Leandro muses, “but I have found a Lexan cane to be quite versatile.”
Leandro goes on to detail a few of the scenes he’s conducted and the remarks his subs made afterward. Giovanni’s attention is rapt.
“Perhaps you and Leandro would like to try it out sometime?” I ask Giovanni, and he nods, eyes skirting toward Leandro.
“It would be my pleasure,” Leandro says with a playful wink in my direction.
Soon after our meal is finished, Leandro must return home to complete his parents’ nighttime routine, and I tell Giovanni that we are going to a seminar at the university.
“I know what you’re doing,” he says drolly as we make our way over to the campus.
“And what’s that?” I ask innocently.
“You’re trying to entice me to enroll here.”
“Entice you? I simply seek to stimulate your mind. I figure the sex afterward will be inspired.” I kiss my two fingers. “See, I am very selfish.”
“Whatever you say, Sir.”
I touch his arm briefly as we enter into the university’s courtyard where the seminar is already underway. We arrive at the small gathering of students and a few older scholars who may or may not be professors. Two youths are in the middle of the huddle, discussing imperialism during the Roman Empire, whether the lands they conquered benefited or were disadvantaged by Roman rule.
“It is hard to justify the benefits of a well-made amphora to people who’ve had their farms razed, their sons slaughtered, and their daughters raped by Roman soldiers,” Giovanni mutters softly at my side, brow furrowed in consternation.
“You should take a turn in the ring.” I gesture toward the group. It seems to be an evolving sort of discussion, where one student retires from the center so that another may take their place. The discussion then transitions from imperialism to forced labor.
“We would not have the Egyptian pyramids or our own Colosseum today were it not for forced labor,” says one owlish-looking youth. “Therefore, does that make it just?”
“The ends do not justify the means,” Giovanni says huffily at my side, and the first speaker’s sparring partner steps back to allow him to enter.
He glances up at me with a panicked expression and I tell him, “Be adventurous. Take a risk.”
He straightens his shoulders and steps into the center of the circle. The first speaker lists out the achievements of mankind thanks to slave labor, concluding with, “And though the method of production may not be virtuous in and of itself, surely the outcome balances out the offense?”
“Is oppression ever just?” Gio asks. “There were mass graves at most building sites due to people dropping dead from exertion. The Great Wall of China has the longest chain of unmarked graves, those who were given the dignity of a burial. Others were ground up to make mortar to build the wall. In Rome, so many laborers committed suicide rather than be forced into the sewers to work on the aqueducts that emperors began crucifying their dead bodies to deter others from doing the same. And what about sexual slavery? Is it ever just to use slave bodies to sate the lusts of another?”
“Some of it was mutual,” the other speaker says.
“Do slaves even have the power to refuse sex with their masters?” Giovanni questions. “Unlikely. If they cannot refuse, then they cannot give consent. And if the motivations for sexual slavery are based on the carnal desires of the flesh, how is that ever virtuous or moral?”
“If the children of those unions are granted a higher status in society, then surely the harm is mitigated,” says the other young man.
“More often they were born into slavery themselves, which reinforces the cycle of oppression. So, I ask again, is oppression just?”
The seminar continues. Giovanni steps back to allow room for another, poised and calm but electrified from the argument and churning with ideas. He is beautiful and brilliant, my little scholar. He listens closely as the conversation continues to evolve, composing arguments in his head and occasionally whispering them to me.
In the end, as things are wrapping up and we are preparing to leave, Gio’s sparring partner from before approaches us. The owlish looking man, wearing glasses and a smart blazer, smiles warmly at Giovanni.
“Hello there, my name is Efisio Esposito, Efi for short. I’m the president of the Socratic Society. I haven’t seen you here before.”
“That’s because I haven’t been here before,” Gio says stiffly.
“Are you a Classicist?”
