The New Macho of the House II

The days passed and the new dynamic consolidated naturally. César had established his dominance effortlessly, and both my dad and I had found our places in this hierarchy that felt incredibly right.

One afternoon, César was reclined in his favorite spot on the couch, watching a game while my dad had served him a well-chilled beer. I was on the floor, massaging his feet as had become customary.

"This beer is perfect, Javier. Just the way I like it," César said without taking his eyes off the TV.

My dad smiled with genuine satisfaction from the kitchen:

"Thank you, master. I always make sure it's at the exact temperature."

It was impressive how my dad had developed a nearly supernatural ability to anticipate César's needs. He knew exactly when he needed another beer, when he wanted to be alone, when he required his cushions to be adjusted.

César had already had three beers when I noticed he was moving restlessly. It seemed he needed to go to the bathroom, but he didn't want to get up from the couch. The game was at a critical moment, and he looked very comfortable in his dominant position.

"Javier, come here," César called with an authoritative voice.

My dad appeared immediately, with that servile attitude he had perfected:

"Yes, master?"

César looked at him directly and, without flinching, told him:

"Bring a glass. I feel like urinating, but I don't want to get up."

My dad didn't show even a hint of surprise or disgust. He simply nodded:

"Right away, master."

He ran to the kitchen and returned with a large glass. César unzipped his pants, pulled out his penis, and began to urinate in the glass that my dad held with firm hands.

"How practical. It should always be like this," César murmured while continuing to urinate.

My dad kept the glass in perfect position, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. When César finished, my dad stood there, holding the glass filled with warm urine.

"Now drink it," César ordered casually, as if asking him to take a glass of water.

Without hesitating for a second, my dad brought the glass to his lips and began to drink César's urine. He did it slowly, as if savoring a good wine.

"Very good, Javier. That's how a servant who knows his place behaves," César said while readjusting himself to watch the game.

My dad finished drinking the entire contents and then asked:

"Do you want anything else, master?"

"For now, no. But you know you must always be available for whatever I need."

"Of course, master," my dad replied with a genuine smile before returning to the kitchen.

The naturalness with which everything had happened was the most striking aspect. César had marked his territory in the most primitive way possible, and my dad had accepted it as the natural order of things.

A few...