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The road was full of cars, buses, vans, but the taxi driver was skillful and stopped right in front of the villa on time.
I remained open-mouthed, just looking at the large copper-coloured wrought iron gate, with its large swirls, curls and acanthus leaves, hanging from thick vertical bars, which went up towards the centre, with an arrowhead.
Two columns in yellow stone, with grey and white veins, went up to the sides, and started a high, roundish boundary wall, from which emerged the tops of dark green cypress trees, all perfectly spaced, beyond which you could see big secular cedars, which, with their stages of big branches, looked like giant bonsai trees.
The driver made me return immediately with my feet on the ground, asking me for money for the journey, and I answered him smiling, extending the notes and even leaving him a tip, since he had avoided arriving on time, which was all too welcome by him, thanking me with an avalanche of smiles.
I went downstairs, put on my suit jacket, buttoned the central button, and looked for the bell, not knowing how to get in, but immediately the gate began to open, opening wide, and I followed that avenue of black gravel to the villa, which really left me breathless.
It didn't have its own defined style, it was something really tacky and strange, a mixture of the old historical villas, with Gothic additions, colonnades on the sides, and a couple of large glass domes, behind the pinnacles of the cornice of the facade, while the entrance, a large arched door, overlooked by a small porch, was surrounded by concrete vases painted in dark pink, full of plants with colorful cravings, skillfully pruned in hemispheres, creating small domes of a thousand shades.
I climbed the six concrete steps, slowly, with my heart in my throat, and as soon as I arrived in front of that heavy wooden door, a door opened, and a distinguished elderly gentleman appeared, with very white hair, a thick moustache curled at the handlebars, and a smile so perfect that it matched perfectly with the black dress he was wearing.
"Good morning, sir, you must be Loris. Please come in, the gentleman is waiting for you," he said, signalling me to come in with his hand.
I entered that dark hall, paved with a light marble to give brightness, but which was still gloomy, with a large round table with a single column foot, made of fine and polished wood, on which a huge crystal vase reigned with a composition of roses, fern leaves and long arched stems of some strange exotic grass, just in front of the large staircase that followed the round wall, leading upstairs, from the steps of the same marble, and with a parapet in thin columns of white marble.
I went up those stairs with my heart practically in my mouth, so loudly beating, wondering what I was doing in that extraordinary and astonishing villa, and my head filled with a thousand thoughts, making me take every step as if I were in slow motion.
I had been invited to that villa on a specific day and at a specific time, with an elegant handwritten note, with impeccable handwriting, on thick, rough, hand-made cotton paper of a particular antique yellow, sealed in an envelope with a wax seal, which held a thin red ribbon, left in my mailbox a week before, and that way of looking for my presence intrigued me so much that I accepted without hesitation.
I had dressed well, for that unusual and mysterious date, wearing one of my best suits, which wrapped my body in a spectacular way, both the trousers, the shirt, and the jacket, with the addition of a large knotted tie in English style, which with its knot under the neck was leaving me breathless.
I tried hard, I fixed the topknot, and after arriving at the upstairs gallery, a wave of white marble, light, large windows and gold everywhere, on the frames of the paintings, the mirrors, and around the doors, which were rather bare, linear, but that arched shape on the top, and the finely engraved handle, created a perfect harmony.
"Good morning, Loris, what a pleasure to have you here," I heard, suddenly from behind, and when I turned around I felt almost faint, my heart leapt out of my mouth and my breath disappeared in an instant.
A tall man in his fifties, perhaps, with a sensuality and virility so disruptive as to create almost an aura around him, was walking towards me, with a smile on his face that disorientated me, paralysing me like one of those half-metre high statues that surrounded me, enclosed in their niches on the wall.
"Salt!" I answered, reaching out my hand, to that surreal, sophisticated, male, elegant man, and I don't know what else.
His warm, large, well-groomed handshake gave me a moment of relaxation, just melting away the tension that ran through every fiber of my body, and little by little, my heartbeats began to return to normal, while my eyes struggled to grasp every detail of the man in front of me.
"I'm glad you accepted my invitation, despite everything. I am Giorgio Venier, very pleased, indeed!" he said, continuing to shake my hand, and I remained motionless with the smile of a spruce printed on my face, admiring that brazen masculinity, which almost made my legs shake.
I did not expect it, and yet, that man of brazen riches, he was dressed in a pair of jeans and a very dark grey T-shirt, with short sleeves, but the tightness of those clothes was so strong that it left nothing to the imagination, proudly showing that prosperous, swollen chest, those broad shoulders, the mighty biceps, and the marble thighs, like those of the discobolus recessed at his side, which seemed to compete with the muscles of the owner of the house.
"Come, follow me into the study, I absolutely must speak to you," he said, finally freeing me from the strong grip of his hand, and signalling me to go ahead of him, towards a door not far away, ajar.
The study was a small room, for that villa, but as big as my kitchen and living room put together, and for a second I thought I was on the set of one of those lawyer shows you see on TV.
Apart from the wall overlooking the garden, completely made of glass, from the ceiling to the floor, the others were covered with heavy wooden shelves, full of books, precious volumes, encyclopedias, with colorful covers, gold engravings, and all different heights.
On either side of the large glass window, two thick, glossy, almost two meters high ficus plants made a beautiful show of themselves, exactly symmetrical within the purple ceramic pot holders, with a satin finish, resting on a light-colored parquet floor, which ran obliquely throughout the room, almost giving prominence to what was on it, a heavy desk made of solid wood, American walnut, engraved on the front and side, in figures that are not well understood, and a large corner sofa on the opposite side, in capitonné style, in brown leather, perfectly preserved, over a thin carpet just darker than the colour of the wood below.
The scent of wood, books, paper and dust pervaded my nostrils, giving me a sense of pure masculinity, with some hints of the tobacco of a cigar, which was dying on a crystal ashtray, probably left there in a hurry.
"Forgive me for the way I made her come all the way here, but I absolutely needed to talk to her," she said, moving slowly around the room, until she sat on her chair, almost a throne, with that padding identical to the sofa, both in style and material, without armrests, then leaning back.
"I won't hide the fact that I was really intrigued by it. May I know why you need me, sir?", still wondering in my head what the fuck I was doing in that huge house, in front of that incredibly sensual man, who was talking to me with a persuasive voice, and a smile that could enchant huge crowds.
"You see, I'm a person with a special life, I'm practically devoted to my job, to managing my assets, my foundations, giving charity parties, but that's it, zero, no friends, except those attracted by my money, no companions, wife, children, nothing, just me, and my servants, like Mario, the butler he met at the entrance, almost a father to me."
"I guess" I answered him, listening with pleasure to those words, moving little by little until I sat on the edge of that couch so soft I would never get up again.
"I've heard a lot about you, from so many people you can't even imagine, and you probably don't know it, but I'm a client of your firm, albeit with bogus names, which mostly concern my companies, my investment funds, and so on. Everybody, no one excluded, does nothing but say wonderful things about you, painting you as an exceptional worker, who always achieves all his goals, and who is able to give all of himself when he is needed, right?"
"It's other people saying that, not me, but anyway, I'm proud of it, thank you." I answered him, still unable to fully understand what the fuck he wanted from me.
"Don't belittle yourself, from what I've heard you're a special, special person, and most of all you have innate talents that everybody envies you, you should be proud of that. You're a real man, and be proud of who you are."
"I am, don't worry."
"Would you like some whisky?" he left after a couple of seconds.
"Gladly, with ice, thank you" I answered him, and he stood up, always smiling, approaching a small table with wheels, on which there were some glasses and an engraved crystal bottle, with a steel container next to it, which he opened to take some cubes with the pliers, to throw in one of the glasses.
"Hold it," he said, as he approached me and handed me the glass, and I tried to look away from that fantastic, perfect body, with that curve at the back that I wondered how it was possible to have such a round, tall, firm ass that it competed in roundness with the profile of the pack in front, absolutely incredible.
"I think we can be on first-name terms with that, don't you?"
"I say that's a great idea!" I said, bringing the glass closer to his.
He smiled, and came to sit on the sofa too, distant, but in a position that gave me a sense of availability, with the glass in his hand, and that smile that made my ass drip.
"Great, then, I guess we'll move on to the serious stuff. You still don't know why you're here, do you?"
"No, absolutely not, forgive my naivety, but I haven't got there yet," I replied, genuinely uncertain as to why I was sitting in front of him.
"Well, it's not easy for me, but I'll try to explain it to you in a way that doesn't sound cheeky, okay?"
"Please tell me, I'm all ears."
"It may seem strange to you that someone like me, who lives in a huge house like this, who has so much money and so many things that I don't even know how to quantify, who might have what he wants, should address you in this way, but unfortunately I have constraints, ways of behaving and living that don't allow me full freedom as you have, for example".
He kept on talking, but while he was talking, I let those words come in one ear and out the other, while my eyes looked at that face, with only a few wrinkles, which only increased that disproportionate charm, those light gray eyes embedded under the thick, perfectly shaped eyebrows, approaching over a big, big nose, but which stood out well on that tanned face, above two thin lips, surrounded by a dark veil of unshaven beard, while the salt and pepper hair was shaved very short, almost invisible, becoming long, all smoothed on one side, shining in the sunlight, which made room between the folds of the heavy damask curtain in vanilla and cream tones, thickly woven and embroidered.
"Am I boring you by any chance?" I heard myself wondering, falling almost from the clouds, and saw him smiling at me.
"No, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I got bored for a second, sorry again."
"Quiet! You know, I'm actually enchanted by your appearance, by your presence, you're really much better than I've heard you describe," he said, curling his eyebrows and looking at me more mischievously.
"What do you mean by that?" I asked him, curious about the direction that speech was taking.
"Enough of this, I'll tell you straight, forgive my impudence," he said, standing up and walking toward the glass window, quietly, looking out and giving me his back, then he turned toward me, looked me in the eye, and swallowed a nice sip of whiskey, emptying the glass, and placing it on a sheet of paper on top of the desk.
"I need you, I need you at all costs, you must help me," he said, standing in front of me, waiting for my answer.
"What's the matter with you? Something to do with work?"
"No, I want you, I want to fuck you, I want your ass, no matter what! I'm willing to pay any amount of money, I'm willing to give you anything you want, but you have to let me fuck you!" he said, all in one breath, serious, spelling out every word, and at the sound of those phrases, I laughed.
"You're joking, right?"
"No, I've never been more serious in my life, believe me."
"If this is your request, whoever told you about me must have done it really, really well."
"I've been told you're very masculine and virile, despite having an ass that can take anything, and that you're able to enjoy in spectacular ways, and, not least of all, that you've got a big clapper between your legs, haven't you?"
I laughed, listening to him, almost refreshed by his requests, both unexpected and ultimately very welcome, since I couldn't help but eat him with my eyes from the first moment I saw him.
"Let's say they could have told you the truth, or not, I really don't know. The only way is to find out, isn't it?" I replied, teased him.
He smiled, walking towards me again, coming so close that he almost slammed that huge package on my face, standing still for a few moments, as if he wanted me to look at him, then he leaned down, squatting in front of me, and I saw his face so close, that I immediately had the instinct to jump on him and stick my tongue in his mouth, but I held back.
"I want you, you have no idea how much, I want you, just you, I want you here, all for me. You will move to the villa this afternoon, I have already warned your bosses that you will be at work for me, so you are released from all other commitments, except of course that of satisfying me" he began to say, in a calm voice, speaking slowly, sure that I would have accepted, even if I had not yet confirmed anything to him, then he continued.
"I didn't need to look for others, I knew you were the right one just by seeing your back a little while ago when you arrived. You will have to sign a confidentiality agreement, which is normal practice, and you will have to be at my complete disposal, even if inside the walls of the villa you can behave like a guest, which in fact you are. If you say yes, I'll take you to see your room, then Stewart will take you home to get what you need and bring you back to me. You don't have to accept, but if you do, you can't imagine how and how much your life will change," he concluded, then remained silent, waiting for my answer.
It wasn't difficult to decide, the offer was more than tempting, on the contrary, it was the one I loved most in the world, to get fucked badly, continuously, and to be filled with cock and sperm, and if we add that I would have lived as a rich man, and this time to say rich and fucked is more than correct, Along with one of the most beefy and sensual men I'd ever seen, surely the word no disappeared from my brain, but I stalled, sipping my last finger of whisky without ever looking away from those deep, magnetic eyes, with a smile, until I told him my decision.
"Okay, I accept, I'll be your bitch, your whore, for as long as you want," I said, then I stood up, adjusting my jacket and placing the glass on the coffee table nearby.
"I knew you'd say yes," he said, melting and smiling, finally lightened by the weight of that strange and exciting request.
He reached out his hand, I squeezed it, and this time I felt an electric shock run through every muscle in my body, igniting every sense, amplifying all the attraction I felt for him, and that smile made my dick hard instantly, but I tried to hold back, it was not yet time to unleash my weapons.
"Come on, I'll show you what your room will be, and then we'll take a tour of the villa, okay?" he said, putting his hand on my shoulder, and walking me out of the studio, to the other side of the hall, where his room was, a huge bathroom, and the two guest rooms, including my own.
He pushed the door just in front of his room, and opened it wide, showing to my eyes what seemed to be a paradise, a picture of a furniture magazine, a huge, spacious room, with a large four-poster bed in the middle, resting on the wall with a padded headboard, and four columns rising from the corners of the high mattress, like huge dark walnut twists, ending in four opaline spheres, of a shaded yellow.
The bedspread and the cushions were quilted, but nothing too tacky, of a very relaxing hazelnut, and on the opposite side, a belly-buttoned dresser with golden handles, made a good show of itself under an oval mirror, enormous, in which I would surely have mirrored myself for a long time, even from the bed, where, I was sure, I would have done so many of those saws to eat my cock.
Between that wall and the other next door, mostly occupied by the large window with its panelled shutters, like a great English villa, and its curtains, heavy embroidered silk frills, of an almost Christmas green and red, there was the door that led into the private bathroom, with a large porcelain bathtub, supported by four shining brass feet, like the faucets on the side, while a large walnut cabinet stood out against the wall opposite, tiled with tiny mosaic tesserae, creating a classic design, on which a yellow marble top hid a large oval sink, with faucets identical to those of the bathtub, brilliant as if they had just been polished.
A large rectangular mirror, with two hanging lamps, in white opalized glass, looked like a painting, with those two bright flowers, and the engraved wooden frame, while the two toilets, toilet and bidet, were hidden behind two low walls, which made them literally disappear from view.
"From this French window you can go out on the terrace, smoke, do whatever the fuck you want, because it overlooks the big garden in the back of the house, and you can also go out naked," he said, taking me outside and locking the door.
We went on for at least a couple of hours, going around every room, going downstairs, the kitchen, the library, the indoor pool in the back, and that huge garden, in a hybrid style, between English and tropical, with beautiful flowers.
I was introduced to Philip, to the maids, to the cook, and everyone welcomed me with a smile, without knowing what my role would be, but they were all friendly, very helpful, and assured me that they were ready to satisfy my every request, my every need.
At the end of that tour, so pleasant that I didn't even notice how fast the time went by, the landlord of the house accompanied me to the car, where Stewart, a smiling and very handsome sexting man, in his black and white livery, was waiting for me, already next door wide open.
"I'll see you later, you don't need to bring the whole house here! If you need anything, just ask, okay?" he said, smiling again.
"Don't worry, Giorgio, I'll see you later", I answered him, looking him in the eyes, then I got in the car, with the driver closing the door, and already I tasted that rich man's life, and the feeling was pleasant, very pleasant indeed.
Stewart sped down the street in that expensive car like a bolt of lightning, but that seat was so comfortable that I didn't even realize it, only when I saw the building door in front of the window, and heard the engine go off.
"Sir, I'll wait for you here, take your time," said the boy politely, opening the door and stepping aside to let me out, with a smile that was really very pleasant.
"Thank you, I promise I'll be quick," I replied, although I would have gladly invited him upstairs, and maybe give him a good going-over, also because I would have gladly cum on that face.
While the elevator was taking me to the floor, I started thinking about that thing, which still seemed impossible, incredible, crazy, and I wondered how I deserved such a thing, the fact is that as soon as I entered the house, and looked down, I saw the dark car, and I began to realize what was happening, really.
I took two bags, I filled them with clothes, razor, hair dryer, toothbrush, and then I opened that drawer that I loved so much, whether I ever needed anything, putting in the second bag lubricant, suspensions, various toys, some particular garments to wear, leather, latex, a pair of trousers and a military hat, whether Giorgio ever liked to play even in a different way, then closed the zippers, I sat at the kitchen table and poured me a glass of wine.
Fuck I'm doing, I thought, caressing the table with my fingers, then I lit a cigarette, trying to empty my mind and taking a quick look at my nest, at the house around me, feeling almost a touch of melancholy, but then, just thinking about what was waiting for me, the enthusiasm came back to take possession of me, and I smiled, getting up, taking the two bags, putting the jacket on me, and closing the door with a couple of turns of the key.
I went downstairs, Stewart was waiting for me with his usual smile, and as soon as he saw me he jumped to attention and moved to open the door for me, after opening the trunk, and came at me.
"Give it to me," he said, with that vaguely English accent of his, and I got into the car, smiling, feeling really important, perhaps for the first time in my life, and as soon as my ass touched that soft seat, I thought of nothing but being grateful to him.
I remained open-mouthed, just looking at the large copper-coloured wrought iron gate, with its large swirls, curls and acanthus leaves, hanging from thick vertical bars, which went up towards the centre, with an arrowhead.
Two columns in yellow stone, with grey and white veins, went up to the sides, and started a high, roundish boundary wall, from which emerged the tops of dark green cypress trees, all perfectly spaced, beyond which you could see big secular cedars, which, with their stages of big branches, looked like giant bonsai trees.
The driver made me return immediately with my feet on the ground, asking me for money for the journey, and I answered him smiling, extending the notes and even leaving him a tip, since he had avoided arriving on time, which was all too welcome by him, thanking me with an avalanche of smiles.
I went downstairs, put on my suit jacket, buttoned the central button, and looked for the bell, not knowing how to get in, but immediately the gate began to open, opening wide, and I followed that avenue of black gravel to the villa, which really left me breathless.
It didn't have its own defined style, it was something really tacky and strange, a mixture of the old historical villas, with Gothic additions, colonnades on the sides, and a couple of large glass domes, behind the pinnacles of the cornice of the facade, while the entrance, a large arched door, overlooked by a small porch, was surrounded by concrete vases painted in dark pink, full of plants with colorful cravings, skillfully pruned in hemispheres, creating small domes of a thousand shades.
I climbed the six concrete steps, slowly, with my heart in my throat, and as soon as I arrived in front of that heavy wooden door, a door opened, and a distinguished elderly gentleman appeared, with very white hair, a thick moustache curled at the handlebars, and a smile so perfect that it matched perfectly with the black dress he was wearing.
"Good morning, sir, you must be Loris. Please come in, the gentleman is waiting for you," he said, signalling me to come in with his hand.
I entered that dark hall, paved with a light marble to give brightness, but which was still gloomy, with a large round table with a single column foot, made of fine and polished wood, on which a huge crystal vase reigned with a composition of roses, fern leaves and long arched stems of some strange exotic grass, just in front of the large staircase that followed the round wall, leading upstairs, from the steps of the same marble, and with a parapet in thin columns of white marble.
I went up those stairs with my heart practically in my mouth, so loudly beating, wondering what I was doing in that extraordinary and astonishing villa, and my head filled with a thousand thoughts, making me take every step as if I were in slow motion.
I had been invited to that villa on a specific day and at a specific time, with an elegant handwritten note, with impeccable handwriting, on thick, rough, hand-made cotton paper of a particular antique yellow, sealed in an envelope with a wax seal, which held a thin red ribbon, left in my mailbox a week before, and that way of looking for my presence intrigued me so much that I accepted without hesitation.
I had dressed well, for that unusual and mysterious date, wearing one of my best suits, which wrapped my body in a spectacular way, both the trousers, the shirt, and the jacket, with the addition of a large knotted tie in English style, which with its knot under the neck was leaving me breathless.
I tried hard, I fixed the topknot, and after arriving at the upstairs gallery, a wave of white marble, light, large windows and gold everywhere, on the frames of the paintings, the mirrors, and around the doors, which were rather bare, linear, but that arched shape on the top, and the finely engraved handle, created a perfect harmony.
"Good morning, Loris, what a pleasure to have you here," I heard, suddenly from behind, and when I turned around I felt almost faint, my heart leapt out of my mouth and my breath disappeared in an instant.
A tall man in his fifties, perhaps, with a sensuality and virility so disruptive as to create almost an aura around him, was walking towards me, with a smile on his face that disorientated me, paralysing me like one of those half-metre high statues that surrounded me, enclosed in their niches on the wall.
"Salt!" I answered, reaching out my hand, to that surreal, sophisticated, male, elegant man, and I don't know what else.
His warm, large, well-groomed handshake gave me a moment of relaxation, just melting away the tension that ran through every fiber of my body, and little by little, my heartbeats began to return to normal, while my eyes struggled to grasp every detail of the man in front of me.
"I'm glad you accepted my invitation, despite everything. I am Giorgio Venier, very pleased, indeed!" he said, continuing to shake my hand, and I remained motionless with the smile of a spruce printed on my face, admiring that brazen masculinity, which almost made my legs shake.
I did not expect it, and yet, that man of brazen riches, he was dressed in a pair of jeans and a very dark grey T-shirt, with short sleeves, but the tightness of those clothes was so strong that it left nothing to the imagination, proudly showing that prosperous, swollen chest, those broad shoulders, the mighty biceps, and the marble thighs, like those of the discobolus recessed at his side, which seemed to compete with the muscles of the owner of the house.
"Come, follow me into the study, I absolutely must speak to you," he said, finally freeing me from the strong grip of his hand, and signalling me to go ahead of him, towards a door not far away, ajar.
The study was a small room, for that villa, but as big as my kitchen and living room put together, and for a second I thought I was on the set of one of those lawyer shows you see on TV.
Apart from the wall overlooking the garden, completely made of glass, from the ceiling to the floor, the others were covered with heavy wooden shelves, full of books, precious volumes, encyclopedias, with colorful covers, gold engravings, and all different heights.
On either side of the large glass window, two thick, glossy, almost two meters high ficus plants made a beautiful show of themselves, exactly symmetrical within the purple ceramic pot holders, with a satin finish, resting on a light-colored parquet floor, which ran obliquely throughout the room, almost giving prominence to what was on it, a heavy desk made of solid wood, American walnut, engraved on the front and side, in figures that are not well understood, and a large corner sofa on the opposite side, in capitonné style, in brown leather, perfectly preserved, over a thin carpet just darker than the colour of the wood below.
The scent of wood, books, paper and dust pervaded my nostrils, giving me a sense of pure masculinity, with some hints of the tobacco of a cigar, which was dying on a crystal ashtray, probably left there in a hurry.
"Forgive me for the way I made her come all the way here, but I absolutely needed to talk to her," she said, moving slowly around the room, until she sat on her chair, almost a throne, with that padding identical to the sofa, both in style and material, without armrests, then leaning back.
"I won't hide the fact that I was really intrigued by it. May I know why you need me, sir?", still wondering in my head what the fuck I was doing in that huge house, in front of that incredibly sensual man, who was talking to me with a persuasive voice, and a smile that could enchant huge crowds.
"You see, I'm a person with a special life, I'm practically devoted to my job, to managing my assets, my foundations, giving charity parties, but that's it, zero, no friends, except those attracted by my money, no companions, wife, children, nothing, just me, and my servants, like Mario, the butler he met at the entrance, almost a father to me."
"I guess" I answered him, listening with pleasure to those words, moving little by little until I sat on the edge of that couch so soft I would never get up again.
"I've heard a lot about you, from so many people you can't even imagine, and you probably don't know it, but I'm a client of your firm, albeit with bogus names, which mostly concern my companies, my investment funds, and so on. Everybody, no one excluded, does nothing but say wonderful things about you, painting you as an exceptional worker, who always achieves all his goals, and who is able to give all of himself when he is needed, right?"
"It's other people saying that, not me, but anyway, I'm proud of it, thank you." I answered him, still unable to fully understand what the fuck he wanted from me.
"Don't belittle yourself, from what I've heard you're a special, special person, and most of all you have innate talents that everybody envies you, you should be proud of that. You're a real man, and be proud of who you are."
"I am, don't worry."
"Would you like some whisky?" he left after a couple of seconds.
"Gladly, with ice, thank you" I answered him, and he stood up, always smiling, approaching a small table with wheels, on which there were some glasses and an engraved crystal bottle, with a steel container next to it, which he opened to take some cubes with the pliers, to throw in one of the glasses.
"Hold it," he said, as he approached me and handed me the glass, and I tried to look away from that fantastic, perfect body, with that curve at the back that I wondered how it was possible to have such a round, tall, firm ass that it competed in roundness with the profile of the pack in front, absolutely incredible.
"I think we can be on first-name terms with that, don't you?"
"I say that's a great idea!" I said, bringing the glass closer to his.
He smiled, and came to sit on the sofa too, distant, but in a position that gave me a sense of availability, with the glass in his hand, and that smile that made my ass drip.
"Great, then, I guess we'll move on to the serious stuff. You still don't know why you're here, do you?"
"No, absolutely not, forgive my naivety, but I haven't got there yet," I replied, genuinely uncertain as to why I was sitting in front of him.
"Well, it's not easy for me, but I'll try to explain it to you in a way that doesn't sound cheeky, okay?"
"Please tell me, I'm all ears."
"It may seem strange to you that someone like me, who lives in a huge house like this, who has so much money and so many things that I don't even know how to quantify, who might have what he wants, should address you in this way, but unfortunately I have constraints, ways of behaving and living that don't allow me full freedom as you have, for example".
He kept on talking, but while he was talking, I let those words come in one ear and out the other, while my eyes looked at that face, with only a few wrinkles, which only increased that disproportionate charm, those light gray eyes embedded under the thick, perfectly shaped eyebrows, approaching over a big, big nose, but which stood out well on that tanned face, above two thin lips, surrounded by a dark veil of unshaven beard, while the salt and pepper hair was shaved very short, almost invisible, becoming long, all smoothed on one side, shining in the sunlight, which made room between the folds of the heavy damask curtain in vanilla and cream tones, thickly woven and embroidered.
"Am I boring you by any chance?" I heard myself wondering, falling almost from the clouds, and saw him smiling at me.
"No, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I got bored for a second, sorry again."
"Quiet! You know, I'm actually enchanted by your appearance, by your presence, you're really much better than I've heard you describe," he said, curling his eyebrows and looking at me more mischievously.
"What do you mean by that?" I asked him, curious about the direction that speech was taking.
"Enough of this, I'll tell you straight, forgive my impudence," he said, standing up and walking toward the glass window, quietly, looking out and giving me his back, then he turned toward me, looked me in the eye, and swallowed a nice sip of whiskey, emptying the glass, and placing it on a sheet of paper on top of the desk.
"I need you, I need you at all costs, you must help me," he said, standing in front of me, waiting for my answer.
"What's the matter with you? Something to do with work?"
"No, I want you, I want to fuck you, I want your ass, no matter what! I'm willing to pay any amount of money, I'm willing to give you anything you want, but you have to let me fuck you!" he said, all in one breath, serious, spelling out every word, and at the sound of those phrases, I laughed.
"You're joking, right?"
"No, I've never been more serious in my life, believe me."
"If this is your request, whoever told you about me must have done it really, really well."
"I've been told you're very masculine and virile, despite having an ass that can take anything, and that you're able to enjoy in spectacular ways, and, not least of all, that you've got a big clapper between your legs, haven't you?"
I laughed, listening to him, almost refreshed by his requests, both unexpected and ultimately very welcome, since I couldn't help but eat him with my eyes from the first moment I saw him.
"Let's say they could have told you the truth, or not, I really don't know. The only way is to find out, isn't it?" I replied, teased him.
He smiled, walking towards me again, coming so close that he almost slammed that huge package on my face, standing still for a few moments, as if he wanted me to look at him, then he leaned down, squatting in front of me, and I saw his face so close, that I immediately had the instinct to jump on him and stick my tongue in his mouth, but I held back.
"I want you, you have no idea how much, I want you, just you, I want you here, all for me. You will move to the villa this afternoon, I have already warned your bosses that you will be at work for me, so you are released from all other commitments, except of course that of satisfying me" he began to say, in a calm voice, speaking slowly, sure that I would have accepted, even if I had not yet confirmed anything to him, then he continued.
"I didn't need to look for others, I knew you were the right one just by seeing your back a little while ago when you arrived. You will have to sign a confidentiality agreement, which is normal practice, and you will have to be at my complete disposal, even if inside the walls of the villa you can behave like a guest, which in fact you are. If you say yes, I'll take you to see your room, then Stewart will take you home to get what you need and bring you back to me. You don't have to accept, but if you do, you can't imagine how and how much your life will change," he concluded, then remained silent, waiting for my answer.
It wasn't difficult to decide, the offer was more than tempting, on the contrary, it was the one I loved most in the world, to get fucked badly, continuously, and to be filled with cock and sperm, and if we add that I would have lived as a rich man, and this time to say rich and fucked is more than correct, Along with one of the most beefy and sensual men I'd ever seen, surely the word no disappeared from my brain, but I stalled, sipping my last finger of whisky without ever looking away from those deep, magnetic eyes, with a smile, until I told him my decision.
"Okay, I accept, I'll be your bitch, your whore, for as long as you want," I said, then I stood up, adjusting my jacket and placing the glass on the coffee table nearby.
"I knew you'd say yes," he said, melting and smiling, finally lightened by the weight of that strange and exciting request.
He reached out his hand, I squeezed it, and this time I felt an electric shock run through every muscle in my body, igniting every sense, amplifying all the attraction I felt for him, and that smile made my dick hard instantly, but I tried to hold back, it was not yet time to unleash my weapons.
"Come on, I'll show you what your room will be, and then we'll take a tour of the villa, okay?" he said, putting his hand on my shoulder, and walking me out of the studio, to the other side of the hall, where his room was, a huge bathroom, and the two guest rooms, including my own.
He pushed the door just in front of his room, and opened it wide, showing to my eyes what seemed to be a paradise, a picture of a furniture magazine, a huge, spacious room, with a large four-poster bed in the middle, resting on the wall with a padded headboard, and four columns rising from the corners of the high mattress, like huge dark walnut twists, ending in four opaline spheres, of a shaded yellow.
The bedspread and the cushions were quilted, but nothing too tacky, of a very relaxing hazelnut, and on the opposite side, a belly-buttoned dresser with golden handles, made a good show of itself under an oval mirror, enormous, in which I would surely have mirrored myself for a long time, even from the bed, where, I was sure, I would have done so many of those saws to eat my cock.
Between that wall and the other next door, mostly occupied by the large window with its panelled shutters, like a great English villa, and its curtains, heavy embroidered silk frills, of an almost Christmas green and red, there was the door that led into the private bathroom, with a large porcelain bathtub, supported by four shining brass feet, like the faucets on the side, while a large walnut cabinet stood out against the wall opposite, tiled with tiny mosaic tesserae, creating a classic design, on which a yellow marble top hid a large oval sink, with faucets identical to those of the bathtub, brilliant as if they had just been polished.
A large rectangular mirror, with two hanging lamps, in white opalized glass, looked like a painting, with those two bright flowers, and the engraved wooden frame, while the two toilets, toilet and bidet, were hidden behind two low walls, which made them literally disappear from view.
"From this French window you can go out on the terrace, smoke, do whatever the fuck you want, because it overlooks the big garden in the back of the house, and you can also go out naked," he said, taking me outside and locking the door.
We went on for at least a couple of hours, going around every room, going downstairs, the kitchen, the library, the indoor pool in the back, and that huge garden, in a hybrid style, between English and tropical, with beautiful flowers.
I was introduced to Philip, to the maids, to the cook, and everyone welcomed me with a smile, without knowing what my role would be, but they were all friendly, very helpful, and assured me that they were ready to satisfy my every request, my every need.
At the end of that tour, so pleasant that I didn't even notice how fast the time went by, the landlord of the house accompanied me to the car, where Stewart, a smiling and very handsome sexting man, in his black and white livery, was waiting for me, already next door wide open.
"I'll see you later, you don't need to bring the whole house here! If you need anything, just ask, okay?" he said, smiling again.
"Don't worry, Giorgio, I'll see you later", I answered him, looking him in the eyes, then I got in the car, with the driver closing the door, and already I tasted that rich man's life, and the feeling was pleasant, very pleasant indeed.
Stewart sped down the street in that expensive car like a bolt of lightning, but that seat was so comfortable that I didn't even realize it, only when I saw the building door in front of the window, and heard the engine go off.
"Sir, I'll wait for you here, take your time," said the boy politely, opening the door and stepping aside to let me out, with a smile that was really very pleasant.
"Thank you, I promise I'll be quick," I replied, although I would have gladly invited him upstairs, and maybe give him a good going-over, also because I would have gladly cum on that face.
While the elevator was taking me to the floor, I started thinking about that thing, which still seemed impossible, incredible, crazy, and I wondered how I deserved such a thing, the fact is that as soon as I entered the house, and looked down, I saw the dark car, and I began to realize what was happening, really.
I took two bags, I filled them with clothes, razor, hair dryer, toothbrush, and then I opened that drawer that I loved so much, whether I ever needed anything, putting in the second bag lubricant, suspensions, various toys, some particular garments to wear, leather, latex, a pair of trousers and a military hat, whether Giorgio ever liked to play even in a different way, then closed the zippers, I sat at the kitchen table and poured me a glass of wine.
Fuck I'm doing, I thought, caressing the table with my fingers, then I lit a cigarette, trying to empty my mind and taking a quick look at my nest, at the house around me, feeling almost a touch of melancholy, but then, just thinking about what was waiting for me, the enthusiasm came back to take possession of me, and I smiled, getting up, taking the two bags, putting the jacket on me, and closing the door with a couple of turns of the key.
I went downstairs, Stewart was waiting for me with his usual smile, and as soon as he saw me he jumped to attention and moved to open the door for me, after opening the trunk, and came at me.
"Give it to me," he said, with that vaguely English accent of his, and I got into the car, smiling, feeling really important, perhaps for the first time in my life, and as soon as my ass touched that soft seat, I thought of nothing but being grateful to him.
