TODAY I WILL TELL HIM

I notice that the provided text is a narrative in Spanish, and you would like me to translate it into English. Here is the translation:

Notice that this story was already published by me a few months ago. Greetings to everyone.

- or -

It won't go beyond today.

It's been a long time since I've had the need to tell him, and I always leave it for tomorrow, always inventing an excuse to postpone it.

Sometimes I arrive home, and he's there, in the middle of the living room, naked and on his knees, his hands behind his back and his head against the floor, motionless and silent, like any other piece of furniture in the house. Waiting for his MASTER to resume life.

Other times he's not there, and it seems as if the house had deepened its silence, seems empty, stripped of its title of "home", without that shit kneeling in the center of the living room. And I throw myself onto the couch, wishing that damn piece of shit would arrive already.

And he arrives.

He arrives and throws himself at My feet, silently, and kisses them with the devotion I so desperately need. And I let him adore me, for less time than I would like. I kick him back with a kick, spit on him, and tell him: "Don't you have anything to do, slave? Move!", and he shoots off to undress, wash himself (inside and out, with cold water), put in the plug with plenty of lubricant to be ready for use if I feel like it, and then start cleaning, cooking, and enduring all My whims.

It's incredible, but despite having him at My orders all the time, I never find the right moment to tell him.

But I've made up My mind, it will be today.

The damn slave comes and goes, kneeling in front of Me, waiting for some order. If I don't say anything, he retreats and returns to his tasks to come back a few minutes later.

He knows each of My gestures, I hardly need to speak when I want something; a massage on the feet, or resting them on his back, when I want a beer, or anything else. Always showing me that he's there to serve Me in whatever I desire, like when I want to piss and he approaches, determined, crawling up to My cock to drink My waste.

Sometimes I walk around the house, and everything is immaculate, as if no one lived there, and I find him always active, cleaning what's already clean. When he notices My presence, he leaves everything and kneels down. This scum never misses an opportunity to adore Me.

Why don't I tell him?

His tongue knows how to caress My body, recognizes each fold of My skin, gently combs all My hair, savors My sweat.

His mouth swallows everything. I plunge My cock and destroy his throat, his tears fall like waterfalls, I feel how his gagging shakes him, how he desperately needs to breathe, and yet he remains abandoned to Me, willing for Me, totally convinced that there's nothing else of value in his miserable life.

Slaps, blows, and more c...