Every night Master was gone, I ate dinner with Suresh. The meals we ate on the island were delicious, but Suresh never fed me bite by bite the way Master often did. He simply plopped a bowl of whatever dinner was onto the floor for me to eat. We ate fish mostly, usually with chunks of fruit on the side. The fruits varied, but I didn't recognize many of them. Suresh told me Master paid good money to have one of the best cooks in the islands prepare our meals, and that I should appreciate it if I wasn't some kind of ungrateful fucking prick, which I probably was.
Later in the evening, Suresh would put me down for the night onto my futon, next to Master's empty bed. I'd drift off to sleep alone, and awaken the following morning in a room as empty as when I had gone to sleep. It felt lonely. Suresh was too strict for me to feel glad when he returned. I missed Master and wondered if he missed me.
After breakfast, Suresh put me through the day's regimen, which included another fifteen minutes of me locked down on the fuck bench with his balls in my mouth. This time Suresh got a hard-on, but he didn't say anything about it, and I couldn't say anything about it, since I was a slave and slaves only speak when spoken to. Besides, my mouth was full.
Then Suresh put me in the chair again, fully restrained, the rubber rod back in my mouth. This time I knew what to expect. Kono arrived a few minutes later and unpacked his equipment. This time, Suresh wrapped the leather cord around the tip of my dick five times, then tied it taut to the leather strap around my waist. The cord held my dick against my belly, pointed toward my navel, while Kono went to work on my balls. He'd grab my scrotum in one hand and squeeze until a dome of skin stuck out between his thumb and forefinger. With the skin of my scrotum adequately stretched, he'd then begin drawing on it.
This was much worse than the first session had been. Kono wasn't gentle in the way he handled my delicates. Suresh held me from behind as he had last time; the feel of his arms and the smell of him--musky, with a hint of spice--were reassuring, but I couldn't look away from Kono's fingers, not while they were manhandling my balls. Kono drew orange scales down the middle of my ball sack; they matched a similar pattern of orange scales he'd already tattooed onto the bottom of my dick. The sides of my scrotum were done in green. I understood now: the idea was to make my balls look like the belly of the creature he'd drawn on my dick. I recalled Master and Suresh talking about Kono's "dragon," and knew I was watching him bring it to life.
After Kono left, Suresh put ointment on my balls and wrapped them in gauze. His touch was much gentler than Kono's had been, but by then my balls were aching from their mistreatment. Having been through this once before, I already knew the worst was yet to come. By tomorrow, my balls would be on fire.
I sat at Suresh's feet that night. He'd gone downstairs to the kitchen and returned with two plates of chickpeas over rice. I felt no urge to snuggle against his leg, so I simply waited until he finished, then set my plate on the floor for me. I picked it up and was about to start eating, but Suresh interrupted me. "Not like that. Slaves don't use hands."
At first, I didn't understand, so he demonstrated. He wanted me to leave the plate on the floor and eat on my hands and knees, like a dog, my face pressed into the food. When I hesitated, I got the hot stick in my side.
"Thank you, Master Suresh." Whatever. If he wanted me to eat like a dog, I'd eat like a dog. It was messy, and quite a bit of rice and peas ended up on the hardwood floor. After Suresh took the plate away, he ordered me to lick the floor clean.
I knew better than to complain, or even hesitate, so I went to work. My last bits of my dinner were heavily seasoned with the flavor of floor polish.
At bedtime, I'd expected I would continue to sleep alone in Master's bedroom. I had come to feel there was something romantic about it: the loyal slave sleeping in his regular place, patiently awaiting his master's return. Suresh, though, had a different idea. I would be sleeping in his room, in his bed, my wrists and ankles chained, as Master used to chain me up when I slept with him on
Mariposa.
The idea of jerking myself off, or even touching my own dick, was by this time repugnant to me, and I saw no need for Suresh to take these precautions, but Master had entrusted him with my care, and he took the job seriously. His bed was smaller than Master's, so after he chained me up, there was little room between us. After turning off the lights, Suresh indulged himself by running his hand in circles across my chest. Occasionally he'd stop to tease one of my nipples, or brush his hand against my cheek. He was naked as I was, and I could feel his arousal.
This went on for some time, until I got aroused, too. Suresh took the opportunity to brush his fingertips along my erection a few times before settling down to sleep. "If I have to go to sleep horny, the slave should, too," he told me.
This left me uncomfortable. I didn't like Suresh touching my dick. That was for the exclusive use of Master. (Rule Four.) But if I said anything, I'd get the hot stick, so what was I supposed to do?
Well, it was just one small lapse. I could ignore it.
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