Carlo 2

I walk across the hacienda fields following my uncle Iñigo; the three slaves, my two relatives, and I go as a group.

I have spent the last hour and a half watching the bodies of my relatives and their slaves exercise. My cousin Patricio and my uncle Iñigo have claimed most of my attention; I even think it is a shame that they are the ones who are dressed.

The slaves are completely naked, silent. They walk forward with their heads bowed and their hands behind them.

“How are you?” my uncle asks me with a smile.

“I’m happy,” I confess. “I think I came to the right place to be who I am,” I add.

We arrive at a simple stone building that looks like a barn. Inside it is empty, but on the floor there is a wooden door that Agustín opens so that we all go through it.

A narrow spiral staircase takes us down to a corridor of cells; there are six cells in total, with old iron bars closing them off, and at the end there is a wooden door. Iñigo leads me to the wooden door, Patricio opens it with a key he carries in his pocket, and I see a dream playroom: inside there is a Saint Andrew’s cross, a stock, a dog cage, and a bench wide enough to tie someone down on it.

My uncle and Patricio take off their shirts because inside the heat is considerable; I do the same.

“Agustín, to the cross,” Patricio orders. The other two slaves wait kneeling by the door for orders.

“What do you know about BDSM?” Iñigo asks me like a teacher.

“Uncle, I’ve been practicing it for ten years,” I say with a smile. I want to tell him that I am submissive, but he beats me to it by giving me instructions.

“Let’s see, show me something with Manuel.” I keep to myself the urge to tell him my role and study the possibilities the place offers me. In the ceiling there are rings through which ropes can be secured. I take some and also grab a tube of lubricant from a small table.

“Come here, Manuel,” I order, and Manuel stands up. Once again I feel enormous power in giving orders to an older man and being obeyed immediately.

“Bend over,” I order, and the slave obeys, putting his hands on his ankles. I grease his ass with lubricant; I like his shaved buttocks, they make him look infinitely inferior to me.

I place on a metal chair a dildo of the kind that can be attached to surfaces with a suction cup. “Sit on it,” I order, and Manuel slides the dildo into his ass, sitting down on the chair.

“Does it feel good, slave?” I ask, stroking his chin.

“Yes, Master Carlo, thank you, Master Carlo,” he answers softly, and I cannot believe that he is the same well-groomed, helpful man who shares an office with me.

I take my time making him a harness with the rope; Iñigo watches me closely, studying my movements.

I use the harness to keep his arms pressed tightly to his back, then I grab his...