Best Gay Romance 2013 by Richard Labonte Read Free Book Online Page A

thank you, Sir,” was all I could say.
    Â 
    The next morning I reported for my day’s work in Master’s study, my heart pounding. I expected him to greet me with a kiss and an embrace. He did not. As always, he waited for me at his desk, and the moment I entered the room, he pointed at my escritoire. I sat down, and he began to dictate before I could pick up my pen.
    All night I had hardly slept, sick with anticipation and excitement, and for what? This? Being ignored as usual. Being treated like a piece of furniture as usual. As the day wore on, so did my unease. Had I imagined him coming to my chamber last night? Had I wanted him so desperately that I had imagined the entire scene?
    At six o’clock, just as I thought he would have me writing far into the evening, Mr. Wynterbourne stopped speaking and walked to the window. I watched him stand silent for a while, and then he looked at me with his intense gray eyes. “Come here, boy.”
    In my excitement to get to him, I dropped my pen to the floor, then moaned in fear that I had splattered ink onto the beautiful Persian rug. I stooped to pick it up, fumbling stupidly, and returned it to the pen case. He watched, smiling, and waited
patiently until I stood before him. I wanted to throw myself at him but dared not presume.
    He held out his arms to me, and I fell into them with such relief that I feared I might weep again. “Sir, I thought you had changed your mind,” I mumbled into his lapel.
    â€œNot at all, dear boy. When I decide upon something, I always know I have made the right decision.”
    My instructions were rather simpler than I had expected. My Master said, “Obey me in everything. Obey me at once. I will always be fair with you. I will never let anyone hurt you. Be humble and be proud at the same time. Do you find that confusing? Don’t worry, boy. I will show you what I mean. Nothing will be expected of you that is beyond your ability to achieve.”
    Later that week they came, the men and women of The Hellfire Club. Never in my short life had I beheld such an assemblage as gathered in the drawing room that evening, and I had grown up in the theater! I had seen boys dressed as girls and girls dressed as boys. I had met a good number of both ladies and gentlemen who preferred their own sex to the other. My mother had a friend who was born with two penises, which he insisted on showing me one evening, and I must confess I was fascinated. But these people who knew, and clearly loved, my Master, took the cake.
    Whilst the butler served brandy, which I was not offered, I was ordered to sit on the carpet at my Master’s knee. I felt the great weight of this honor and was frankly rather smug about it. Do they all know I’m his, I wondered. It seemed they did because a number of very haughty men and women looked down on me and asked, “Is this your new boy, Marcus? Isn’t he pretty.”
    At one point I responded, “Yes, I’m Jade Swift,” and received a slap across the back of my head for my trouble.

    â€œThe only thing swift from now on will be retribution if you speak again without permission,” Master told me firmly. Burning with humiliation I learned a sharp lesson, the first of many, and sat in silence eyeing the party.
    The Masters and Mistresses were unmistakable because they walked about freely or sat on the beautiful furniture while talking and laughing. Many wore clothing that designated some sort of rank—heavy, leather belts with metal studs and high leather boots. More than that it was their attitude, the authority with which they carried themselves, that set them apart from their minions.
    The slaves, though, sat on the floor, some naked under their cloaks and with various chains and restraints upon their persons. They were silent unless spoken to, kept their eyes lowered for the most part, and remained very still beside their Masters and Mistresses. I became fascinated