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.