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YOU KNOW HE'S SUB, DON'T YOU? - PART 112
BOOK THREE ALL OF THE SANDS PART TWO - Paris
Benyamin's car stopped in front of two large gates, two huge pale green metal gates in a stone wall with a stone arch over the top of them what had a coat of arms in it like it belonged to a duke or something. After a moment the gates swung open and we drove into this like amazing courtyard with all stone buildings around and lit like a birthday cake and a fountain in the middle what was all lit up as well so it looked like it was made of light and the pulsating water shooting up and collapsing like a ... well, you know. An ejaculation, obviously. Benyamin brought his Merc to a halt near this glass doors and told me to get out. So I got out and ran round immediately to open his door for him cause I thought that was what he wanted me to do but another man in a neat black suit was already there. He held the door and Benyamin handed him the keys. The man handed the keys to someone else and then accompanied Benyamin through the glass doors, whispering something politely in his ear; but before I could follow him, yet another man grabbed the embroidered collar of my long shirt and said something, in French I suppose, and pointed at some other doors. I cried out, with surprise mainly, and I suppose I resisted, because I didn't realise what this was, but the man held on to me and dragged me more or less. "Bagages par ici," he said, sourly.
Now I know what you're thinking, that I would be to carrying Benyamin's suitcases up to his suite. That makes sense, doesn't it? But that isn't what he meant. He meant me! He opened the door with one hand on a shiny brass handle before pushing me through and then following, dragging me more or less up some spiral stone steps (I mean, I could'a punched him out cause I was that big but he just pulled me along and I had to go with it) to a cramped landing with railings the same green colour as the gates, and he pushed open another door, with a key he had, and pulled me through so that I was like that wasn't I? A piece of luggage! And when he let go I was standing in the middle of this amazing room twice the size of Po's flat (which was my flat until Po decided he owned it, course) and it had like sofas and a golden pattern on the ceiling and a chandelier the size of a dinner table and a carpet in all sorts of colours and sort of silky soft when my bare toes touched it - "Do NOT stand in the carpet pas!" said the man; I stepped back towards the edge where it was all made of little bits of polished wood - and little tables in all curly sorts scattered around the room and a big desk with a computer and a TV fucking huge the size of a bedsheet and a fireplace made of like all of white marble (with green bits) carved like animals and flying babies playing with each other ... and candle sticks what were obviously electric. And so on. I mean, like fuck off!
"STAND! Zhere," the man said, "and NOT move, pas!"
As soon as he spoke I nearly fell over. I realised I had basically lost my balance cause I was basically just looking everywhere and everything and everything was like overwhelming me. 'You better get a fucking grip or he'll send you home on the next camel!' I thought, so I took a deep breath and adopted position one, with my hands on my head, back against the wall - not touching, but like I was a piece of furniture what got pushed out of the way, or, or something like that. On the wall opposite I could now see was this fuck-off huge mirror the size of like right up to the ceiling I somehow hadn't noticed but now there I was in it, looking like a lampstand wasn't I (I think I looked cute) with my hands on my head and this gorgeous embroidered like shirt sort of smooth over my pecs and you could just see that I had a penis cause it was just sort of showing pushed against the shirt, and I looked amazing, like, 'What is that?' yeah? Like, 'Is that a piece of furniture, like a statue of this horney slave? Or is it an actual horney slave just standing there waiting to be fucked? Cause I can't tell which it is! So which is it?' Yeah! I fitted in that well! The curves of my body matched the curves of the ornate french furniture.
The man had started moving around, ignoring me, and someone else bought stuff in what they laid out - food and stuff, and drinks and stuff - and there must'a been a bedroom cause then they had these great big tall double doors what opened and I could see something like the same room again only obviously, well not the same room so it had to be different so it had to be a bedroom didn't it?
"Are you suppose to wash?" said the man, "zhere is a douche zhrough zhere," he pointed to another door I hadn't noticed - cause it was sort of disguised into the wall, "mais zhe Master zhis is his own baaf suite, naturellement, mais you are NOT to use, pas, sauf if it is TOLD explicitly ... Oui." So if Benjamin wanted me to join him in the bathroom like to shower him or shower with him or watch him or so he could look at me showering I suppose or if he wanted me to go to the toilet or if he wanted me to watch him, he meant, or I had to ask first like cause what if I needed to go to the toilet how would I tell him? I think he was talking French cause I couldn't even fucking understand half of it even! But I could see in the room through the half open door and it was pretty and ornate you might say, like if a French duke had a toilet and bathroom where he went to wash, or where he liked to fuck his slaves.
"Now you need to prepare yourselse. Zhere is a djin." "A what Sir?" "Zhere is a djin. A place for exercise, with muscle equip." "Oh, a gym I -" "Zhe Master has explicitly demanded that you yourselse be prepare." I hadn't worked-out in a few days so my tone was a bit off. I knew I needed to be pumped and I felt wrong from not circuiting my muscles for when Benyamin might want me to be ready to be used by him. "Yes that's great!" I said, flexing inside my long shirt and eager to get going. "Is there kit I can wear?" "You need not anyzhing. No one deesturb. I assure you it is like zhat, zhis djin. No one deesturb. But Master will require you en une heure." "Where is he Sir?" "Come this way," he answered, ignoring my question.
I followed him back down the luggage stair. We went into the basement where a large pool surrounded by columns seemed to evoke a kind of subterranean Roman temple spa; the light from the pool welled up and kind of broke the surface to illuminate the ceiling and everything around with a kind of flickering blue-tinted blush that made the space feel very quiet and calm. All around there were these gay boy-machines for every muscle group and huge mirrors filling the walls where users could check themself out or others could look at what they were doing and stuff. The servant showed me a special cubicle where it had a special bidet with an attachment so I could clean my hole out for when Benyamin to cum in. It was private obviously so I could do it privately. Then the servant left me there. "You. Work. I sshall come for you to take you to zhe Master in good time," he assured me before disappearing back up the luggage stair.
I pulled off my long shirt and looked for something to tone my glutes on. That seemed like a priority. I could see myself in the mirrors; I looked the part, like a total slave, with my body toned for sexual use and the marks made by Jobal's gang and Akim that day (Chapter 95) looked so sexy winding around my body, emphasising my physique and like also emphasising that I am a slave and owned totally and not a human but a sex thing only for use. I stretched and breathed and I briefly saw myself as others saw me: a human male property for Superior Men with no other function. I looked good. Benyamin said I don't exist and he was right. I'm just an object for other men, Superior Men, to use and hurt if they like, or be nice to, or whatever they like. Whatever they desire. I am to be used. It made me hard to see myself and realised what I had become, what I had grown into - a fully fledged sex slave.
I found a machine I could work and tried it. The creaking bars were resistant cause I was weak, but I soon got my thing back and I was straining it and I could feel my body pump up and pop, properly hard and swoll. Benyamin would like what he saw I bet. I'd repay him for owning me. I'd make him so happy and satisfied. I'd be the best slave ever. And he'd want me to suck his dick and fuck me all at once. And I'd make him so happy to fuck me.
When I looked in the mirror I felt proud and I thought of Urib and all that Urib had taught me (Chapter 59) and I was so grateful cause without him I wouldn't be the fuckable desirable slave I am and Benyamin wouldn't want me and Po wouldn't be able to sell me to fund his internet and I'd be useless. Jobal would probably get rid of me on some slave farm where men who aren't sexually useful get sent. If such places exist. So I was lucky. But I had worked hard. Urib knew that and anyone could tell if they looked at me and they'd want to fuck me too for sure!
I looked at my bottom in the mirror and licked my finger and touched my hole with it and made it wet. The crack was hot and the hole was begging for it. 'I can't wait for Benjamin to fuck me again!'
Then I pulled a load more reps and then bobbed into the shower. I was squirting my hole in the special cubicle just as the luggage man came back; he opened the door and stood staring at me for a few seconds and then said gently, "Zhe Master is ready for you too now. You should hurry. Don't keep him waiting - for your own sake. Eet is not advise." I noticed he adjusted his trousers a bit while he watched me squirting my cunt out all this clean water into the bidet. "Make sure you do not smell of anysing." He handed me a towel, staring at my body like it was square meat. "You have a very good body," he said as I was towelling between my legs. "Thank you Sir." "No need to zhank," he said. "What are you doing?" I had finished and held out the towel for him to take. "Leave it! Come. Hurry. Zhe Master is waiting." "Where is my shirt?" "Leave your shirt idi-ott! He want you nakid naturellement. Dépêche! Toute suite! NOW!!"
I ran up the stairs, my toes slipping slightly on the stone steps, back into the little cupboard room which opened onto the main suite; I took a breath, flexed my arms and chest, sucked in my stomach, straightening my back, and then tapped on the door very gently.
I didn't hear anything. So after a moment I pushed on the door and looked about. There was no one there. Then I remembered the other room, the double door. I ran round the carpet to avoid treading on it, my bare feet padding on the polished wood, and stopped before knocking.
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END OF YOU KNOW HE'S SUB, DON'T YOU? - PART 112