Master’s Schiavo by Laura Lascarso

17

“You did very well last night,” Master praises as he places a piece of chilled melon in my mouth and instructs me to chew. “What did you think about the scene?”

“I enjoyed it, but do you think that will happen very often?”

“How would you feel if it did?” he asks with a note of caution.

Master has trained me to submit to him and him alone, but Sir demands my submission too. I want to be a dutiful and virtuous slave, but I’m not sure how to properly serve two Masters. When I share this with Master, he says, “I think we’ve come to an agreement. Finish your breakfast, and then we’ll talk about what to do with Sir.”

When I’ve eaten all the food Master set out for me and I’m luxuriating in his arms again, he says, “If you agree, tesoro, I’d like to train Silvio on how to be a Dominant, formally, using you as our sub.”

I reflect on my findings about love and wonder if this will help or hurt my predicament. I already feel as though my loyalties are split, which is a problem for me because I need a center when the demons get loud. I need to know Master is the one in control when I am not. This slave cannot wonder, they must know. I share this with him too.

“Perhaps you could look at it like this,” he says. “I’m not asking you to shift your allegiance to Sir. I’m asking you to do this so that he might understand better what this lifestyle is about. This will bring him closer to us both, into the most intimate aspects of our family. You’ll be accepting him into your heart, your mind, and your body, but it will always be on my terms. I set the rules, I design our scenes, and you serve according to my wishes. Your submission is a gift I’d like to offer to my brother, and in doing so, you remain loyal to me.”

This helps clarify my role, but I tell him I still need to think about it. He kisses my forehead and says, “Take as long as you need.”

I decide that evening that I’d like to bring Sir into the discussion to better understand his motivation. I don’t want to be used as a convenient hole or treated as a kinky curiosity. I want to know that Sir is committed to truly accepting the gift of submission.

“I want to learn, princess,” Sir says when I question him about it. “How to please you, how to please others. Many of the things you and my brother do are very much a mystery to me—your closeness, your bond. I want to understand and share in it. Will you let me?” Then he winks at me with an impish grin, and though I shouldn’t let his charm sway me, I’m weak in this way. Still, I reserve the right to call it quits at any time, which is obvious to Master, but I say it aloud so that Sir understands.

“If I feel my service is not adequately appreciated, I’m out,” I tell them.

“Green, yellow, red,” Sir promises. “You are the boss.”

Later when it’s just Master and I lying in bed again, I ask him, why Sir, why now? Master says that he has benefited greatly from the teachings of others. That becoming a good Dom and Master is a source of great pride for him, which is why he likes demonstrating for others. “Embracing the lifestyle opened up something inside me,” Master says. “It gave me purpose, focus. It channeled my energy and offered me relief from a very stressful job. And when I trained you, Giovanni,” he says with a shine to his eyes that I know is only for me. “Well, you are my pride and joy, my beloved schiavo.”

If I could stop time and live in a single moment forever, it would be this one.

What Master says is true for me too. He saved my life and helped me stay sober, and our D/s lifestyle gave him the framework with which to do it. “I would like to offer my gift of submission to Sir. This slave would be proud to serve his Master in this way.”

“Thank you, Gio. Master is very proud of you too. Always.”

“Patience isthe virtue of both slave and Master,” Master says in his deep, authoritative voice. I’m nude and standing on a makeshift pedestal in the middle of Master’s living room while he gives his first lesson to Sir. In one hand, I’m holding a banana. In the other, a ripe peach, and on my head, I’m balancing a book. I’m not allowed to bruise either of the fruits or drop the book. This is how Master trained me on how to present as his submissive for parties, how to be both alluring to look at as well as unobtrusive.

Some Dominants like their subs to always cast their eyes downward, but not Master. He believes himself to be the only man worthy of my submission, and I tend to agree. As long as I’m respectful, Master prefers that I carry myself with pride—his pride, of course. And as Master always tells me, I have excellent presence, and it would be a sin to deny others the opportunity to admire my beauty and grace.

See, it’s his fault that I’m so vain.

“It requires patience to teach patience,” Master continues in his Zen-like way. “Looking at Giovanni presenting like this,” Master says with a wave of his hand, “what is your immediate thought, Silvio?”

“That I would like to fuck him,” Sir says bluntly, and it takes all my self-control not to falter. I suppress my delight at Sir’s horny forthrightness and concentrate on my form.

“But you cannot,” Master says, “because you are training him, and fucking him is what he wants. You must be stingy with your rewards and only provide them when your slave has truly excelled. Otherwise, the slave gets lazy and entitled, and those are not virtues.”

Sir considers this and to his credit, doesn’t scoff at it. “But if he is mine, shouldn’t I be able to fuck him whenever I want?”

I can’t help but smirk while Master shakes his head slightly. “One, with your appetite for ass, that probably wouldn’t be good for his rectal health. Two, the slave isn’t, as you so eloquently put it, a fuck doll. The slave is an instrument of pleasure that must be cared for and prized in equal measure. The waiting, on both sides, makes the reward that much sweeter. You want your slave to hunger for your touch, to be waiting with every nerve in their body set aflame at the promise of your attentions. You achieve this through denial, denying yourself and denying him.”

Sir nods and seems to grasp the meaning behind Master’s poetic words. “Now, Giovanni,” Master says, “can you recite this slave boy’s code of conduct?”

“Yes, Master. Boys are nourished and invigorated by the cum of the men they serve,” I say rotely, having memorized these rules long, long ago. “Boys answer all of Master’s questions truthfully and admit their transgressions promptly to avoid a worse punishment. Boys do not touch themselves in an erotic way. Their pleasure belongs to their Master, and they earn their orgasms through service. A boy’s body is his Master’s temple, and the care and maintenance of this temple is a slave boy’s most sacred responsibility.”

“And what happens when a boy disobeys?” Master prompts.

“Boys who break these rules get caged until they have demonstrated their remorse, and other implements, as needed.”

“Very good,” Master says and then to Sir, “Questions?”

“Seems cruel not to allow a man to masturbate,” Sir says, which is not surprising to me, since masturbating either with his hand or my mouth is one of Sir’s favorite pastimes.

“Giovanni is not a man, he’s a boy, and the rules are necessary for him to remember his place. We each provide something the other needs. If the sub cannot pleasure himself but must seek it from their Dominant, then they are far more likely to be motivated to serve and serve well. It’s as simple as that, Silvio.”

Master’s motivations are quite ingenious.

Master then invites Sir to touch me, keeping in mind my commitment to maintaining my stance. Sir draws his hands along my back and cups my ass, jiggling it a little in the way he likes to do. His hands wander around front to fondle my dick and balls. I’m not caged at present, so it is something of a sweet torture.

“Why no hair?” Sir asks.

“Giovanni?”

“Slave boys must present their barest selves, to be unadorned and unashamed of their nakedness, which is virtuous in the eyes of their Master.”

“These are my rules for Giovanni,” Master says. “Every Dom has their own rules for their sub and conducts training in their own way. This is the beauty of the dynamic. There is no one-size-fits-all. It’s highly tailored to fit each individuals’ needs.”

“And you like this waiting?” Sir asks me, as he collects the fluid from the tip of my cock and paints my lips with it. Sir is a very bad influence.

“I love this waiting,” I tell him. I consider it a sign of growth for me too. Growing up with my grandfather I was given pretty much whatever I wanted. And then with the drugs, I was always chasing that immediate high. Master has taught me that every sacrifice I make will bring exponential rewards.

“But you would like to fuck me, no?” Sir asks, trying to entice me with his bedroom eyes and pretty pink lips. Well, two can play at this game.

“This slave wishes only to please his Sir,” I purr, “in whatever way Sir desires.” I lick my lips and part my mouth to remind him of one of his favorite places to stuff his cock.

Sir is slow to tear his eyes away, but when he does, he glances at Master and nods. “I can see the benefits of this virtue.”

Sir’snext lesson is in pride. We’re in his dungeon this time, playing doctor.

“A man must take pride in his possessions,” Master says as his bare hand glides along the inside of one of my spread thighs. His other hand is sheathed in a blue, nitrile glove. “A man must take care of his things, fix what’s broken, maintain what he has been entrusted with. Taking care of a sub is somewhat similar. And for a slave who is expected to serve, this is even more important. Because their focus is on pleasing you, they sometimes ignore their own pain and discomfort. You must exercise them regularly but not to the point of impairing their health. The trust that a slave puts in you, means that you must care for them body, mind, and spirit.”

Master examines me—probing my most intimate places with a clinical but thorough touch. Sir looks skeptical. “This is a doctor’s job, no?”

“It can be,” Master says, “and regular checkups are necessary, but with the amount of physical strain a full-time slave is expected to endure, especially a masochist, it doesn’t hurt to do wellness checks more regularly. Here is your chance to ask him if anything hurts or causes him discomfort. Make sure his bruises are healing and cuts aren’t infected, medicate when necessary. Making this routine allows the slave to feel comfortable sharing their health issues with you before they become a problem. And I find the practice enjoyable too.”

Master’s finger finds my gland and he presses hard enough to make me groan aloud. Dr. Greyson has taught Master all sorts of ways to torment this slave. He’s practically an MD.

“Do I get a lollypop now, Doctor?” I tease when he finishes examining me. Master swats my leg and tells me to take a seat on my pillow. Master and Sir sit in comfortable chairs on either side of me, so that they may talk as men. Master recounts that the other aspect of pride is having confidence in the things you do with your sub, especially when other people come into play.

“I ask a lot of Giovanni when I host or attend parties. He must be groomed, well-mannered, obedient, chaste in his own way, and he must perform very intimate acts for the entertainment and arousal of others. That’s not easy for anyone, especially a shy sub who is slow to trust. So, I must have enough confidence and pride for the both of us, so that Giovanni can serve with humility and take pride in doing his tasks well. The word “humility” comes from the Latin word humilis, meaning “low,” which derives from humus, meaning earth or soil. You might consider a slave a field for the Master to plant his seed, one that must be nourished and tilled so that it remains fertile and lush.”

When Master talks in this way, I am comforted immensely because his efforts speak to a sense of longevity, that he will keep me for many, many seasons. My greatest hope is that he never abandons me.

“For Giovanni to succeed, I must hold myself in good esteem and maintain high standards for my own behavior. Now, how do you demonstrate your humility, Giovanni?”

I bow to the floor before Master and kiss the inside of his bare foot slowly and with careful worship, then slowly work my way up to his knee.

“Very good. Now, how do you demonstrate your humility to Sir?”

I turn and attempt the same with Sir, but he winces and pulls away before slowly offering his foot to me again. He’s new at this, so I understand, but Master uses it as a learning opportunity. “You hesitated, Silvio. Giovanni was attempting to serve you, to humble himself before you, and you flinched, which rattled his confidence. If you don’t have the pride in yourself to believe you deserve such service and worship, that you are worthy of a slave’s attentions, then a slave cannot feel secure in their humility. Understand?”

“Yes,” Sir says with a nod. He offers me his other foot, as if to make up for it, and I worship it with everything I have. Sir reaches down to pat my head. Perhaps he will learn.

“Pride is threefold,” Master says, “pride in yourself, pride in your slave, and pride in your relationship. You need all three or the table will not stand.”

We’rein Master’s bed this time for his lesson on dominance. Sir is behind me wearing only his underwear and I’m cradled in his arms with my legs spread and my back braced against his chest. Master holds in his gloved hands a long, hollow stainless-steel sound which he is methodically coating with surgical-grade lube, because Master will be inserting this instrument into my dick.

“The act of penetration is a sacred one that we as men often take for granted,” Master says with a hypnotic rhythm to his words. “We are typically the ones penetrating our partners, and so we sometimes underestimate the trust they must have to allow their body to be consensually invaded. Even for those of us men who have bottomed, unless we are regularly receiving penetration, it’s easy to forget or take for granted the bottom’s role. We see it as passive, receptive, and sometimes we see it as simply a warm place to stuff our cocks. But for a slave who has given over so much of their control, the act of penetration must be respected and revered. That is one of the many reasons we have safewords. Giovanni?”

“Green, Master.”

“You like this, princess?” Sir asks. He’s the one holding me open, his strong hands hooked just beneath my knees. In everything we do, Sir asks some iteration of this question. I consider it a kind of consent check on his part.

“Master is an expert at sounding,” I assure him. I know because he learned from Dr. Greyson, using me as their “patient.” “And I wish for Master to penetrate me in all the ways possible.”

“Perhaps we’ll try your nasal cavity next,” Master teases, and I think, yes. “Remember, Silvio, you and your submissive want different things. The sub wants to submit, and the Dom wants to dominate. They are a beautiful and necessary complement to each other’s desires. Just because you wouldn’t want something inserted into your penis doesn’t mean your sub doesn’t. That’s part of open communication to determine which aspects of the lifestyle you and your sub would like to explore.

Master continues speaking while holding the metal sound right in front of my face. I think he’s trying to make me nervous.

“That being said, the amount of trust your sub must have in you to allow you to feed a ten-inch instrument up his urethra is significant. How do you think this trust came about?”

“Time and patience?” Sir says.

“That’s right, and expertise on how to implement the tool. This is the role of a good Dominant. It isn’t only telling a sub what to do but it’s being proficient and experienced in everything you attempt. If you’re not willing to do it to yourself…”

Master holds my flaccid penis in his hand and rubs his gloved thumb over the slit where there is already a gob of lube. He pinches my cockhead so that the slit gapes open and very slowly feeds the sound into my tiny hole.

“Breathe, Giovanni,” Master reminds me as the metal travels the length of my shaft, expanding my narrow, sensitive canal so that it feels fully blown open, similar to the way Sir is holding me. I cannot move, nor can I retreat from this invasion—Master has found a way to restrain me using Sir’s own body.

He continues the insertion until I feel it tickling my prostate. There’s nothing else like it, a heady mixture of feeling as though I have to pee while also having to cum, confusing and arousing, especially when I see the excitement on Master’s face—the slight uptick of his mouth and the narrow focus in his concentration. Master wishes to probe me in the most personal of ways, and I wonder if he might have missed his calling as a surgeon. I harden almost immediately, putting more pressure on the sound and my urethra. The tube shifts and Master readjusts it so that it’s all the way in.

“How does that feel?” Master asks.

“Perfect, Master.”

“This is why you must have mastery over your sub’s body. If I go too fast, I could tear his urethra. If I go too far, I could puncture his bladder. In a scene your focus must be entirely on your sub, especially when they go into subspace and it becomes more difficult for them to actively consent, which is also why you negotiate limits ahead of time. At that point, it’s up to the Dominant to say when they’ve had enough.” Master moves the tube methodically up and down, and I thrust upward, trying to get him to go deeper. “Careful,” Master warns.

“Sorry,” I say with a huff and a whine. “It just feels…”

“I know. Remember the first time we did this?” he asks, sounding sentimental.

“I nearly passed out just watching you stick it in.”

“But you liked it.”

“I did,” I say, feeling bashful.

To Sir, he says, “We’ve also used a lovely instrument with pellet-shaped spheres that Giovanni found particularly arousing.”

“I don’t know how you fit that thing inside me.”

“You were scared,” Master says, and I can see the delight in his eyes. I was scared, but I also knew that I was safe, so it felt thrilling instead of terrifying.

“Master loves to torment me.”

“Yes, I do.”

Sir’s stiff cock nudges the small of my back as Master slowly manipulates the sound up and down, such a foreign but exquisite sensation. Like striking a bow across the strings to make them quiver and sing, I am my Master’s own instrument. He plays me as a maestro conducts music, and every time I approach my crescendo, he interrupts his movements so I’m unable to climax. I whimper in misery whenever this happens. He does this again and again because he wants more from me, he wants everything.

“Please, Master,” I beg. “Please let this humble slave come.”

“Not yet, schiavo. I want more than just your pain. I want your surrender.”

It’s not hard to give in to him at this point when he already has me so helpless and exposed. My cries are muffled and soft as the sensation builds, ebbing and flowing like a moving piece of music until at last, I reach that final searing note. Even with both men helping to orchestrate my pleasure, my orgasms are intensely personal in a way. My body feels suspended in midair as the bliss flows out of me like blood from a cut. My ejaculate fills the hollow center of the sound and collects in the bulging lip of the instrument. Master carefully removes it from my softening cock and instructs me to suck my cum from the end of it, which feels like the natural conclusion to such a performance, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

We break there for a few minutes. Master instructs me to urinate to flush the lube and any remaining semen from my urethra and uses a pan to collect it so that he can look for blood. Raise him up higher now, Silvio,” Master instructs when that’s done. “I’m not finished with you yet, schiavo.”

I whimper my assent and Sir makes some noise of encouragement while Master lubes up his next instrument, an amply sized dildo. Master wants me to ache all over tonight. He massages my anus with the blunt tip of it first, warming my sphincter to the penetration.

“You think you can take all of this, Giovanni?” Master asks.

“I hope so.”

“I think you can. I think you want to, for your Master and for your Sir.”

Master’s pep talks are like nothing else. He teases and tests my muscle while my anus puckers and gasps like a fish. It dilates and constricts around the probe, as confused as I am about what is happening. Sir pulls my knees farther back so he can get a better view.

“Giovanni does exercises every day to strengthen his sphincter,” Master says. “Do you know why?” He’s asking Sir this question. I know the answer already.

“Because you like stuffing your little boy with man-sized toys?” Sir says.

“Because it’s good for his bowel control, and I like my little boy tight as a fist when I fuck him. But I also like to see how much he can take up his splendid little asshole.”

Master’s dirty talk sends a wash of heat over me that’s amplified by Sir’s strong arms spreading me for Master’s penetration. They are co-conspirators in my torment, and though Sir seems hesitant, he too wants to see what will happen next. This is the power Master wields; he’s able to tap into our most primal fears and desires and summon them in equal measure for his erotic theater.

Master tells me to take a deep breath, then pushes the dildo steadily inside. I throb and ache and burn and even though I want it, want to please my Master, my instinct is always to squirm and try to get away, which is probably why Sir is holding me so securely. Sir whispers in my ear, tells me I’m a good boy, a very sexy one too, and he likes seeing me stuffed with something other than his brother’s dick. That if I can take his monster cock, I can take this one too. He even promises to give me something sweet later as a reward, which knowing Sir could easily be his dick smothered in Nutella.

Master continues, a deviant look in his eyes, until I’ve swallowed it whole. My hole is dilated to its farthest diameter as Master sweeps one slick finger around my rim, excited by the tension in my body and seeing me stuffed so full. It reminds me of when he first started trying out his toys on me, methodically testing to see how much I could take and how slow he might have to go so that I didn’t tear. He even made Dr. Greyson nervous with some of his “experiments.”

Sweat drips down my face and beads on my chest from the intense pressure against my prostate. I feel drunk and dazed and a little wild as I try to pay attention to my Master’s rhythmic words.

“There you are,” Master says softly, seeing the masochist within me or perhaps it’s my demons he’s speaking to directly, loving and accepting them as well. “What are you thinking, Giovanni?” Master says like God speaking to Moses on the mount.

“I’m praying for my Master to be merciful.”

Master shakes his head with a slow smile of satisfaction. “Master will give you only as much as you can handle and no more,” he assures me, which we both know is quite a lot. “For a slave to be subservient they must trust that their Master will dominate them properly,” Master says as he slowly drags the tip of the dildo over my tender, pulsing gland. “A good Dom is creative about all the ways in which he can make use of his sub’s body. I’m not content to only penetrate my slave physically, I wish to pierce his soul. Am I doing that, Giovanni?”

“Yes, Master.”

Master slowly torments me with the dildo, speaking to Sir about his technique, while I start to drift again. When I eventually orgasm for a second time, it’s a hightide that has been steadily building and finally overtakes the shore. My body feels similarly overwhelmed. Master has proven once again that my pleasure and my pain truly belong to him, that I come because he allows it. I am wholly owned.

Master delays in removing the dildo, partly for my own sense of well-being and also because he likes seeing a big, fat dick shoved deep in my ass and he knows my prostate is incredibly sensitive right now, which gives him an added thrill. There is no resistance on my part when he shifts it inside me for maximum discomfort, and that’s how Master knows I’ve surrendered to him completely. When at last the toy is withdrawn, Master massages my hole to make sure it’s still functioning properly. My high starts to fade, and I’m left with a deep aching satisfaction that will carry me through.

“Thank you, Master,” I say meekly, so wrung out and exhausted that I can hardly move. “Thank you, Sir.”

Master nods sagely while Sir kisses my neck and shoulder and the sensitive place behind my ear.

“I’m beginning to understand,” Sir says.

The feeling I have is triumphant.

“Gratitude shouldn’t be onlyin response to a gift,” Master says a little while later while I’m lying boneless in Sir’s arms, “but a practice that is cultivated and reinforced daily. Giovanni, what are you grateful for?”

We might be here all night if asked this question. Master, seeming to know that, says, “Pick three things, one for each of us.”

“I’m grateful for your teachings, Master, and your willingness to share our virtues with Sir. I’m grateful to Sir for seeking to understand. I’m grateful to my body for its ability to serve.”

“Very good,” Master says. “I’m grateful for your gift of submission that you give to me every day without reservation. I’m grateful to my brother for caring for you in my absence. And I’m grateful to be living here in this beautiful paradise with my brother and my boy.”

Sir is nervous when he speaks and a little shaky too, which is unusual for him. “I’m grateful to Giovanni for giving me his trust. I’m grateful to you, Valentin, for sharing Giovanni with me, and I’m grateful to have been able to learn from the two of you.”

“Bene. And now the importance of aftercare. This is how you reassure your sub of the bond you have with them because many times, after such an endorphin rush, there is a drop or a coming down period, and it’s usually stronger for the sub. They may get weepy or angry or upset. In Giovanni’s case, he cannot be left alone, even to get him a glass of water, so you must come prepared with everything you’ll need to take care of him.

“This is my favorite part,” Sir says while I luxuriate in his embrace.

“You are a good cuddler,” I tell him.

“I am the best cuddler,” he corrects and kisses my nose.

Master watches us with his quixotic smile that tells me he is feeling something bittersweet. “Since you seem to have this part down already, I’ll make us dinner.”

Master leaves and I snuggle deeper into Sir’s arms. He tells me again that he appreciates my willingness to be explored and used for demonstration. I tell him it’s my pleasure, truly.

“Do you think I’d make a good Dom?” he asks, serious this time.

“I think so, if you’re willing to listen and learn, not just from Master but from your submissive too.”

“From you, you mean?”

“I suppose,” I say shyly, uncertain as to whether I should be having these possessive feelings toward Sir. I am only his for now and for the purposes of his training. I belong to Master, eternally. “And you’re very intuitive when it comes to bodies. I think you have a beautiful heart too.” I go silent, afraid I may have revealed too much.

“You have a beautiful heart, Giovanni,” Sir says, “almost as nice as your ass.”

I chuckle and marvel at how everything with Sir is just so… easy.