The Alchemy of an Encounter Chapter 4
The Alchemy of an Encounter
by Lowell Mitford
Comments welcome: lowell.mitford@gmail.com
Chapter 4 – The Household
Given Aurelio's standing, he deemed it essential that I come to terms with members of the household as quickly as possible. In those critical first weeks they gave us space, out of respect for El Jefe, but a broader inquisition was inevitable. I was nervous about encountering any of them alone, and above all, did not want to let my Master down.
They were a wildly disparate bunch. Besides Beni, who was a well-known international celebrity and macho star, the most striking was his lover, Juan G-, who some felt I resembled, since we were both blond, hairy, and sometimes bearded. Slimmer and taller than me, and taller than his lover, Juan had the lithe body of a dancer, which he had briefly been. His voice, like his movements, had an almost feminine grace. He had the sunniness and gaiety of a child, capped with a beautiful smile. He brightened any project he undertook with color and everything pleasing to the eye. He oversaw our food and wine and was an excellent cook.
Though I do not think he had ever had to submit to Benicio for training, he was naturally submissive and deferential to both Benicio and Aurelio. Often reserved with us, in his coupling with Benicio Juan was frankly uninhibited. I have seen him kneeling, nude, servicing Beni orally while Beni discussed important international business by phone. He was, it seemed to me, naturally loving and beloved.
Of all of us, Juan was the one most suited for fatherhood – almost, indeed, for motherhood – he was so naturally affectionate and wise. It surprised no one when, two years after I arrived, Juan and Beni became fathers of twin boys with their close friend Miranda Jacinta Vasconcelos. When typed genetically, the boys proved to have different fathers: Amerigo by Benicio and Juanito by his partner Juan. A year later Juan fathered another boy, Cipriano. Shortly before the twins were born Benicio built a house for Miranda and her children adjoining the property, where the six of them lived contentedly, so we all saw less of them.
Pedro had been with Beni the longest time next to Aurelio . With his partner Victor, Pedro handled anything mechanical or technical, and oversaw construction at the compound. Victor ("El Gallo") had been brought on later to install and maintain our computers, and on him Beni depended absolutely for technology. About these matters Beni never argued, for Victor was invariably correct. Victor and Pedro had quickly become lovers. The two slim, attractive young men could often be seen early in the morning having first coffee in the kitchen dressed only in jockstraps. During siesta when there were no guests they usually sunbathed nude by the pool.
Victor, in particular, recognized few personal or romantic boundaries, and hated possessiveness. It was Benicio who first called him "El Gallo," for his impudence and lack of modesty. He strutted about nude, or in just a T-shirt and cache-sex when he could get away with it. Endlessly curious about sex and the sex lives of others, Victor usually led the way and expected Pedro to follow. One year for Aurelio's birthday Victor gave El Jefe a framed photo of his own insatiable young face in closeup, his crisp beard and chest hair dewy with his own semen.
The more sensitive, boyish Pedro recognized and celebrated Victor's uniqueness, but in consequence he was often hurt.
"What's it like having Victor as a partner?" I asked Pedro once.
"Like riding the back of a soaring winged creature in Harry Potter," he said thoughtfully. You have a view of the world nobody has – but you're terrified of falling off."
Pablito and Arvid, two young, slender pool boys who also tended the grounds completed the household. At first Pablito had been naturally lazy, and Benicio made many threats to fire him, but Pablo's boyish good looks and helpless fecklessness repeatedly spared him. Arvid, the only non-Spaniard on-premises, arrived as a Finnish tourist one fine day, and immediately took up with Pablito. Seeing Arvid placidly eating his household's food for a third day, Benicio laid down the law. "My staff do not have non-paying guests," he decreed. "If you stay, you work." This Arvid did with a vengeance, shaming the more sluggish Pablito with his hyperactivity and resourcefulness. Within a week the handsome Scandinavian was a permanent fixture. Arvid and Pablo lived in a small apartment above the pool house, which only the brave dared to enter. They surfed together, bathed together, danced till all hours and coupled anywhere they pleased, like a pair of young otters. Their fights were loud and quickly ended, without animosity. In short, they were obsessed with each other.
Around these main characters a teeming tide of recurring characters, walk-ons and extras ebbed and flowed – sometimes with barely an introduction. They came to dive, play water polo, or sun nude by the pool, then stayed late in the night, strumming guitars or roasting fish and shrimp on the grill. Some regular visitors were simply good friends, such as Beni's straight trainer Salvador, Andrés, a flamenco dancer working up and down the Andalucian coast, and Beni's photographer Leandro, who often recorded videos of life in the compound or still photos of our unguarded moments. Others were friends "with benefits" according to Benicio's account, or Juan's: local erotic dancer Raűl, who came to entertain, and sometimes stayed after – well, to entertain; the boyish Sevillan Luís, a children's puppeteer; and Joaquin, the dancer whose star still shines brightly on the stages of Madrid.
Of still others, "los one-offs," I can recall brief, fragmentary narratives: Arturo, the graduate student in history from Sevilla; Pieter, a traveler from Leiden, who exhausted his sizeable cannabis stash on us; Alfonso, the art student who stayed a weekend, and is now a junior curator at the Prado; Juan Carlos, the grandson of a nobleman from Jerez, now one of the richest men in Spain; and Geronimo and Gil, sex workers from Barcelona, who reveled in their profession and made us respect it, too. And all the others: Jack, Hilario, Valentín, Javier – now only names on the backs of photographs in the bottom of a drawer. Where was I, I wonder? And where are they today?
Although he had been coming to visit Benicio for a long time, I did not meet Beni's older brother Eduardo, the celebrated architect, until he was in his mid-forties. Despite many vicissitudes, he looked fully ten years younger. He visited several times, once to design the lyrical small house Benicio built for Miranda and for Juan. Eduardo had charming manners but spoke little, and revealed less. His divorce from his wealthy Parisian wife, and his separations from his children, and even his nominal "life partner," Grégoire, had left him depressed, and he spent long hours dozing, his long limbs bare, in the open cabana beside the pool. Although he loved Benicio dearly, and respected us, there seemed a vast gulf between his closeted heyday and the openly gay life Beni lived with us – so quickly had gay culture advanced in only a few short years.
"When are you going to have Ari pierced?" asked Pedro provocatively one day before the assembled group. I looked down and said nothing. Everyone held their breath and looked at El Jefe, who continued to read, unperturbed.
"I have no need to mark my property," he growled.
"But what about a single ring, in the left nipple," said Juan. "That would look muy sexy." I was shocked by the thought but also a little proud. For the first time I felt as though the housemates were noticing me, accepting me as one of them.
Later in bed with El Jefe, I whispered, "Do you think one piercing would hurt very much?" Aurelio looked at me, surprised. "Really, you would want this?"
"Not if you don't."
Aurelio struggled with himself. "I don't want someone clanking around when we're in bed. I chipped a tooth that way once."
I was silent for a moment. "Maybe," I said, "Just to wear in front of the others. I could remove it when we're in bed."
El Jefe laughed hoarsely. "My little boy is growing up," he said. And kissed me good night.
Victor offered to do the work, but Benicio sent for a professional from Marbella , who performed it after dinner one evening. I think I was steady, and there was little blood. Aurelio complimented me on my bravery.
"Now all he needs is a big Prince Albert," laughed Beni.
"Chinga tu madre," Aurelio retorted.
Five months into my stay this felt like a school initiation. I was already at our casita when El Jefe strolled up, straddled the lawn chair and sat behind me, holding me by the waist as we watched the sunset.
"Estás bien, chico?" he asked.
"Sure, why not? Y tu?"
"Sí, claro. You know, hijo. Not sure you understand yet, but I can tell you what this means. It means they'll be wanting you now." He stroked my cheek. "I put them off as long as I could."
"But – we are not finished. . . ."
"Dime si mai fu fatta alcuna cosa. . . ."[1] Do you know what that means?"
"I think so . . . " And in he strolled to take a shower, repeating wearily, "Dime si mai, dime si mai . . ."
In my short stay at the compound, the householders had scarcely been subtle in shielding their sexual lives from my eyes. Coming from the office to lunch in the big house my first week, I glimpsed Arvid behind the pool house, squatting on his haunches. Wearing only tennis shoes, he supported himself against the wall as he grasped his cock, flinging a load of semen on the ground. Then barely pausing and without acknowledging me, he tripped up the pool house steps to rest. Numerous times, the men, sunning nude, would salute me with erections as I passed, gazing up at me with half-closed eyes. Seeing Benicio pouring a bottle of water over his gleaming hair, his magnificent cock still engorged as he descended to the pool, was a common sight after his intense afternoon sessions with Juan. The pictures these couples, Pedro and Victor, Juan and Benicio, even Pablo and his Finnish boyfriends, passed around after their vacations abroad were equally explicit and viewed with much enjoyment.
Since I arrived, well-understood rules around my training had cast a sort of magic cloak around me, rendering me off-limits to all but El Jefe, no matter how intense our own sessions might be. For this reason Aurelio had forbidden me to check e-mail or the internet, except for the very restrictive accounts I used for business. My master knew that if it was understood I perused my own account, the temptation to pique my curiosity or test my will power by sending me nude or erotic personal photos would be overwhelming.
In this, as in so many activities, it was Victor who led the way in my undoing. I had now been with Aurelio for six months, and a small party, a poolside barbecue was held one evening to celebrate my birthday. The only unusual note was the inclusion of Leandro, invited by Benicio to take photographs. In my six months at the house, my hair had grown out splendidly everywhere except around my genitals, which Aurelio made me keep manicured. As the sun went down after dinner, the pool, the barbecue and some sterno lanterns provided a warm after-glow. There was good Danish weed, and Juan brought trays of the multi-colored Jello shots he had learned to make in California. A small, round, wrought-iron table with a highly mobile lazy-susan center was brought laden with my presents. I unwrapped a peaked legionnaire's cap from El Jefe, and a sky-blue Speedo and matching embroidered vest from the guys, which they insisted I put on immediately. Looking for my master's approval, I dropped my shorts and redressed as modestly as I could by lamplight, stuffing my half-erect cock as best I could in the soft pouch.
It was then that Victor made his move. During the songs and birthday shots I had noticed him perched on the brick steps, smoking a joint and looking at me steadily without smiling. Now, before I could react, he threw the joint away and heaved his arm under my feet, cantilevering my head down and my feet toward the sky, and wrenching the brand new Speedo to my ankles. Tossing my new suit, my only protection, into the pool, and crying "Time for a birthday kiss," Victor allowed his tongue to sweep under my cock and balls, all the way to my clenched hole. I gave a small cry, but pinned by Victor's strong grip and woozy from the shots, could only crane my neck to call for my master's help. None came. Aurelio's profile, in whispered conversation with Benicio's receded into darkness. Leandro, armed with his video camera, moved behind Victor and began to film. Around me, pandemonium broke out and phone cameras flashed in rapid succession. Victor's oral invasion of my ass seemed to go on and on with a rapid intensity I had not yet experienced.
Then, in a move that felt almost choreographed, Victor and Pedro hauled me, naked except for my now sweaty vest, over their shoulders and, in a couple of steps, laid me gently, face down on the wrought-iron latticework of the lazy susan, my cock crushed against the ironwork and my ass open to the night breeze. I could see Pedro's strong feet under the table as he held my lower back against the table, stroking my buttocks, continually while Victor grabbed a small cruet of oil and anointed his sheathed and rapidly lengthening cock. The oil and wrapped Trojans were placed on the turnstile and spun round to each of the other men in turn, so they could strip and prepare. At last Benicio took his place as well, and the men crowded around in a tight circle. I counted six in all, with only my master missing and Leandro filming from the steps in tight close-up.
The rest of what happened I remember as a blur, but I have indelible memories of Leandro's film, which Benicio insisted on showing several times. As the smallest of my assailants, Pablo was allowed to enter me first, so my acclimatization to their cocks would be gradual. He might have measured six inches, but he entered me to the hilt, in what felt like a single smooth movement. He was allowed only three or four strokes, before the turnstile was shifted, and stepping back, he yielded to Arvid, followed by Pedro, Victor, Juan and Benicio. Each allowed himself a handful of powerful strokes before shifting me to the net man. Crushed under my weight against the wrought iron lattice, my cock struggled to its full length. As the spectators caressed my neck, legs, spread ass and balls, and my nipples, I was spun round and round slowly, moaning, while my cock now loosed a continual flow of warm drops of pre-cum on the cement below the table. Eventually, clever Juan, spotting my leakage and tired of waiting his turn, slid beneath the table on his back, leering up at me and trying to catch the hot pre-cum on his lips and beard. For at least twenty minutes these scoundrels played this game of Russian roulette, with me never knowing what, or who, would send me over the edge. At last Juan, taking pity on my mindless cries urging my friends to "Let me come," reached from below with his foot and gently stroked my furious cock through the cage with his toes. At the same moment he hauled himself of the ground, clawing with his fingers at the iron, and managed to lick my nipple ring several time with his lascivious tongue. With a mighty shout I reared halfway off the table, emitting a prodigious flow of cum, which passed delicately through the table lattice, coating the grateful Juan's chest, abdomen and cock.
The film recorded a raucous round of applause, but I don't remember any of it. I was lifted from the table, thrust nude under the poolside shower, almost too weak to stand, then carried aloft to the casita by Victor, Benicio, Pedro and Arvid, like a parody Deposition of the Cross. I awoke towards dawn with a considerable headache, to find Aurelio had tucked me in with a blanket, placing water and aspiring within easy reach, next to my legionnaire's cap. I smelled the comforting scent of his pipe smoke from the porch as I drifted back to sleep. My "Baptism of Fire" was at an end.
The next two days were bank holidays. The house was quiet, and on Saturday El Jefe took me early in the morning to the beach. Already there was a crisp feeling of autumn in the air. Despite the frenzy and shock of my birthday, I felt exposed and vulnerable outside the compound. I was quiet and let my master do the talking. I hoped he would tell me our relationship was unchanged, but one thing was clear: I was nobody's little boy anymore.
Aurelio raised himself on one elbow and whispered to me as I lay prone face up on the sand. "Ari," he said addressing me by name for the first time in months, "I was so proud of you the other night. In place of a scared, wide-eyed bottom, I saw a proud gay man – a man I would have been privileged to serve alongside. But it is clear I have been too cautious with you."
I tried to fathom all this. "How do you mean, Jefe?" He cleared his throat.
"Already the requests are pouring in -- to be with you, one on one. And not just from our guys, our family, but friends of Benicio's, too. Word travels fast. There are a lot of horny fuckers on the Costa del Sol."
"So what happens to me now?"
"What happens is entirely what you like – whenever you like, as much as you like or as little." He paused. "The only question for we two is -- do you still need me to guide you?"
I closed my eyes. "I would be lost without you, Jefe. Utterly, entirely lost."
"Then let me put together a few things. It may be best that I just observe, for a while."
I smiled. "I would be privileged to perform for you, Jefe."
"Idiot!" he hissed. "This is about your safety. I don't want you eaten alive. I can go to the video arcade anytime!" He stalked a few feet away and looked seaward. I rose and followed, then hugged his hairy, sandy body close.
Alone on the porch of the casita after dinner, Aurelio and I reviewed my options on his laptop. It was clear an offer for a rematch from Victor had pride of place. He was a known quantity; his responsibilities to Benicio made him relatively secure, but I had responded viscerally to his "take no prisoners" attitude. I sent him a short note, asking him when he wished to meet.
In the event I did not have to wait log for his response. The next morning I was back at work in the office on an audio conference call, when Victor strode in wordlessly. It was clear he had been running. Dressed only in softly worn running khaki shorts and white running shoes, he was still panting, and a light sheen of perspiration coated his biceps and chest. He threw down a small bag onto the desk. Instinctively I hit the mute button on my computer.
Bending down close, his face inches from mine, Victor said quietly, "The other night I saw Jefe's mistake at once. You aren't being kissed enough." So saying, he bent me backward with his own powerful version, a man's thrusting tongue kiss that left me weak. He continued to press his hot mouth against mine, as he lifted me onto to the desk top with a force I would not have thought possible, then began popping the buttons on my shirt with one hand, and unfastening my shorts with the other. I whimpered and looked nervously at the flashing phone light, afraid of inadvertently hitting "unmute." Off flew my briefs, leaving me nude except for my tennis socks. From the desk bag Victor withdrew a black rubber butt plug, which he coated liberally with gel.
Another kiss directed me onto my side, as he applied more gel to me and pushed the hard lubricated rubber in steadily, whispering, "Here now, hold my place." He pushed his shorts down rapidly as I groaned, making motions to escape, yet wanting frantically to please him at the same time. I opened my lips to speak, only to receive the surprise of his invading cock. "Save your saliva, Arielito, you'll need it," he teased. As I desperately tried to service him he kept up a light, bantering repartee that seemed to excite him as much as it did me. While he mocked me, thrusting rapidly in a kind of dance, he leaned over to shift the position of the plug, finding undreamed-of recesses and making me maddeningly hard. As he reached climax and his load coated my tongue and throat, I indicated I was about to come as well. In a flash he gripped my glans between two fingers, his firm stare ordering me not to come. He sought the taste of his own cum in my mouth as he carefully, patiently withdrew the plug. For a half dozen panting breaths he looked into my eyes, stroking my face as he sheathed his sensitive but still-hard cock. Then closing his eyes as if to say, "The interview's finished," he bent my flailing legs nearly over my shoulders, spread them wide, and plunged his cock into my asshole.
I squirmed in delight, while he found his grip and my most sensitive inner spot. Pushed beyond endurance by his rapid thrusts, I cried out, my helpless cock spinning semen onto both our chests. Undeterred, he held me under a pitiless gaze while he moved rapidly to his second climax. All too soon his head snapped back, his eyes looked to the heavens, then appeared to roll inward, and with a mighty shout, he came. For a long minute he held his position, his body still in rictus. He seemed to be silently reviewing his whole life. Then with a jolt, he withdrew, pushing me, still gasping, back further on the desk. As he raised and fastened his shorts he shouted over me, "Fuck, Arielito! You are one hot fucking piece of motherfucking man ass!" then slammed the door on the way out. I cleaned myself as best I could, relieved that the call had concluded and the muted line had gone dead.
Later, according to Aurelio, Victor's review had made the rounds of the compound almost before I could take a shower. The most insistent request to reprise a session with me came from Pablito and Arvid. El Jefe helped me consider my reply.
"This pair works as a team. It might be good for you to learn how to integrate yourself with another couple." I agreed that after the communal birthday orgy and Victor's unbridled assault, I was ready for a more leisurely encounter.
"Well, for God's sake stay out of that bedbug-ridden brothel of an apartment they have. I'll make my old room in the big house available instead." Strange to relate, but up to this time I had had none of the leather gear subs often dress in. For my special night Aurelio bought me my first outfit: shiny black leather chaps and vest to go over my zippered leather briefs.
Pablo and Arvid had little occasion to spend time in the main house together and were rarely there alone except to feed El Jefe's exotic fishes. Now with Beni and Juan away in Madrid for the weekend, it was a chance for them to host. On a rainy Friday night in September, I made my way to the house, arriving just ahead of a cloudburst. Through the rain I could see the lights of my master's Jeep heading back to the casita from Marbella – probably with the Chinese takeout he loved. For our romantic evening Arvid, who loved to cook, had prepared – not Finnish food but the Italian food he loved to make: bistecca Milanese and pasta with fresh warm tomatoes. After dinner there was a lull in the rain. Pablo, who often overindulged, had helped himself liberally to Beni's Brunello as well as his cognac through the meal He lay alternately groaning and snoring on the sofa, his head in Arvid's lap, and Arvid stroked his hair as we talked. It was clear little more was to happen between us that night. Finally, Arvid's face brightened. "Such a nice outfit you have! He said. "At least you could give us a strip tease!"
"For that I would need my legionnaire's cap. The outfit's not complete without it."
"Splendid!" said Arvid. "I think the rain has stopped. Why don't you go get it?"
I made my way through the garden and pool patio to the casita, skirting the dripping trees. As a reached the porch I could hear music inside. I called to Aurelio and opened the door. Silhouetted against light from the office were two figures, a man about thirty I had never seen before perched sideways on a chair, nude except for leather cross-straps, rhythmically moaning. Aurelio, also naked, stood behind, with one bare foot on the bed for purchase. A cigar in his mouth, he gripped the stranger's leather chest straps, pulling him close with each stroke, as he ploughed the man vigorously in sync. Neatly folded on the cot were a legionnaire's tight trouser and low-cut blouse, green khaki briefs, and a legionnaire's cap – not mine. A pair of military boots nestled beside the cot. The man looked up at me from his intense bliss and spoke.
"It seems we have a visitor, Don Aurelio."
Aurelio put down the cigar. "Vicente, this is my current sub, Ari."
As soon as I had made out the situation, all the feelings of inadequacy and possessiveness I thought I had buried for good over my difficult months of training returned in a flash. Now they were made worse by a new sensation I had never experienced before Aurelio - jealousy. My master's use of the word "current" lashed my mind, suggesting that I was only one in a long line of interchangeable, disposable bodies to him. My eyes filled with tears but I held them back. My stomach muscles tightened and seemed to ripple as I fought for control.
Vicente's kind eyes reached out to me. "And what does Ari do, compadre?"
"Anything I tell him," said Aurelio.
"Will you suck my cock and make me come while your master fucks me?"
"If my master wishes."
"Go ahead, said Aurelio, sternly.
Despite my feelings of insecurity, I sought safety in my role. I realized at that moment that, like the military or the scouts, the submissive is generously given a perfect code to govern his actions, and to protect him, if only he will bravely follow it. Locking eyes with my master, I dropped my boots with a thud on top of Vicente's spit - shined military ones. I stepped gingerly from my leather pants, laying them on the cot. I unzipped my leather briefs part-way, giving my expanding cock room to breathe, then insolently picked up Vicente's legionnaire's cap and put it smartly on my head. Then, sinking to my knees (without pads) and wearing only his cap and my vest, I swallowed Vicente's fat member to the hilt as Aurelio resumed his fucking.
"Que rico es!" hissed Vicente. Soon he was howling. At the intense moment of his ejaculation, he shot cum across my nose and onto my lips, and dribbled gouts of it down my furry chest. El Jefe said later that the picture of me on my knees at that moment, eyes closed, my single nipple ring gleaming in the moonlight, was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen.
Later, as Vicente showered, I sat on the chaise longue on the porch. Aurelio came and sat beside me.
"Vicente has been coming here for years," he began. "He found me through the internet using the chat room for legionnaires. He is in Málaga on short leave."
"So – a fuckbuddy?"
"Yes – one of the best. You know, you passed an important test tonight. I just didn't know I would be giving it."
I sighed, and stroked his thigh. "Me either. Pop quiz, I think."
El Jefe looked at me mischievously, his fingers on the zipper of my partially open leather briefs, and unzipped them all the way back to my crack. He smiled at me, "Now for your extra credit."
[1] Italian for "Tell me when anything is ever (truly) finished," a phrase copied obsessively in the notebooks of Leonardo da Vinci.