“No, you must not,” he says sharply, glaring at me with scorn. “I want you and only you, and if you see me going astray, then you must chase me down like you promised and punish me until I am back on course. That is your job, Silvio. To stop me from sabotaging myself or ruining what we have.”
“You cannot know what the future holds, sweetheart.” I reach out to hold him, but he shrugs me off.
“God, you sound just like Master,” he says with a growl.
This is a surprise to me. Except for when Valentin hid his illness, I’ve only ever heard Giovanni speak of his Master with love and adoration.
“In what way?” I ask.
“Master loved to have these man-to-man talks with me. They were stupid and pointless, and I hated them. Do you know why I ran away from him and made that plan to shoot up heroin until I died?”
“No, Valentin never told me anything about that.”
“Because Master was worried he was too old for me, that our age difference meant that he couldn’t keep up with me, that he couldn’t satisfy me. And what the voices heard was that he was going to leave me, and they convinced me of it, too. And I’d rather be dead than be left alone. So,Silvio, are you planning on leaving me?”
“No, Giovanni, never.”
“Then you must find a way to be okay with who you are and who I am. Master couldn’t give me his youth. You cannot give me pain. I cannot give you something simple or easy. These things will not change, but your desire to possess me must be stronger than your worries about not being the perfect Dominant. I love you with everything I am, you are myerosand myludus, and I want you to be mypragmatoo, but I need you to man up and figure this thing out. If not, the voices will win. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly,” I respond ardently.
Giovanni shrugs off his clothing and wades into the water, disappearing beneath the waves only to surface much farther out, a nymph seeking comfort in the arms of Mother Ocean. I realize moments later that my hands are shaking.
I’ve been given my marching orders.
18
We’ve moved our family portrait, along with the easel that supports it, from the bedroom to the dungeon where Giovanni has created an altar for his Master replete with candles, flowers, cigars, and spirits. We decided that as part of this scene, Valentin will be joining us, and I think this is a more fitting place for him, as the king of his court and Master of his dungeon.
“Can you explain it to me?” I ask Leandro while I hold the whip he will soon use on my boy. Giovanni has left us to prepare, and we are alone for now.
“Pain is multifaceted. It can break you down, rip you apart, and destroy you. Or it can start a fire that razes one’s terror and trauma. For Giovanni, the pain is cleansing. It releases the poison he holds inside himself, allows him to be pure and whole again. For himself and for you too.”
I imagine it as scraping away the barnacles attached to the hull of my boat, allowing the vessel to move faster through the water, without the weight of all that crud holding it down.
“And for you?” I ask.
“Hurting a submissive who craves the pain is thrilling, makes me feel alive, desired, even if only for the relief I can bring them. It takes a lot of skill and technique to inflict pain without damaging their bodies. I enjoy other aspects too, the noises they make, the way their skin and muscles react. I like seeing the marks. People tend to bare their true selves when they are in pain. I enjoy taking care of a sub as well, though perhaps not as much as you.”
“And it doesn’t scare you?” I ask.
“It would only scare me if I felt as though I wasn’t in control. When I see you lifting Giovanni in your rope, that seems scary to me, because I don’t have your skill and expertise.”
Giovanni arrives then, nude save for his glittering jewelry and silk choker. In his hands, he holds the box containing his Master’s collar.
“Will you put it on me, Sir?” he asks meekly. “It should fit over yours.”
“I would be honored.” I reach into the open box and remove the gold collar from its satin lining. Giovanni turns and sweeps his hair off his neck so that I may affix it around his throat. Leandro watches our ritual with a pensive expression.
“We’re ready now,” Gio says and smiles at the portrait of Valentin before bowing his head slightly to Leandro and standing with his legs shoulder-width apart, presenting for the two living Dominants in the room and the one who looks on from beyond the veil.
Leandro allows him the space of a few breaths to gather himself, then says to me, “You may take your sub to the cross.”
With my hand in his, I lead Giovanni to the St. Andrew’s cross, like a father escorting a bride down the aisle. There I climb onto the mount with my back against its padded center, legs spread wide enough that Giovanni can stand between them. I reach up for the handles to grip and Giovanni circles his arms around my waist, holding me tightly with his cheek pressed against my shoulder. His body is warm and tense with anticipation. My cock, much like the rest of me, is aroused but wary. Meanwhile, Leandro explains his plan to both of us again. The last bit of costuming is Giovanni’s blindfold, which Leandro affixes to his face.
“Color,” he asks.
“Green,” we both respond.
