He is Your Master Now Pt. 11

"But what if I don't want to be bonded."

"This is a little complicated. Seeing the Yellow Sign while you were sucking cock altered you in a way---"

"What way?" Ambrose was truly worried now.

"It altered you in a way---" Pippi sighed and changed tact.

"I once heard a Buddhist saying re-worded as: 'when you fuck, just fuck.' What that means is, when you're having sex, don't think about shit like--- I don't know--- shit like 'I think those eggs expired' or fantasizing about a different sex partner.

"No matter how deep you're into sex, there's always going to at least be a tiny bit of a distraction. In your case, whenever you had sex with Cassilda or with anyone in her orbit, you had all these anxieties that kept you from living in the moment. A better way of putting it is 'being the moment'. If you weren't distracted by frustration over her hold on you, you were distracted by your need to hide from your true nature.

"The bonding will only happen while you're experiencing sex near the animal level. Keep in mind that the sex you have won't be any better than it's ever been, you'll just be more attuned to sensations and more importantly, your emotions during sex.

"At some point, the fucking will be so good, that you'll achieve an almost Buddhist like level of total awareness. You'll achieve a moment of 'sexual Nirvana' that you'll never achieve again. At that moment, you'll be compelled to make a declaration with every fiber of your being. When that happens, you'll see the Yellow Sign and be bonded to whoever is rocking your world. If you try to keep aware of this possibility while having sex, you can guard against bonding."

"Well then that's good. Right?" asked Ambrose hopefully.

"Welllllllllllllll, you have to understand that if the sex is phenomenal, the Yellow Sign is going to blow past all your defenses. If you don't want that to happen, you can either become celibate or seek out the kinds of cheap casual sex that won't 'deliver you'."

"You said I'll say something that will cause me to see the Yellow Sign, is it something like 'be my master'? I want to know what to avoid."

"What you actually say won't matter. If you experience the moment, you can say something as stupid as 'I love cheese' and be bonded. A lot of times it's just a loud grunt of satisfaction."

Ambrose closed his eyes momentarily and opened them. He was in distress "But I can still see the Yellow Sign!"

"Yeah, you can see the sign now because you've been primed and you're no longer hiding from yourself. But that won't last long. Eventually, you won't be able to imagine it--- except for the bonding, and that'll be the last time you see it. Apparently, it's like a safety thing for the sign. If you tried to draw it right now, you'll see that you can't. But the longer you can picture it in your mind, the more likely it'll be that you can draw it and spread it around. The symbol itself is magic."

"Is that the source of Cassilda's powers do you think? Maybe she was able to draw it on her chest somehow and have it permanently tattooed."

"I just don't know Ambrose. But it probably keeps her alive. One of the maenads told me that one of her past lovers believed it gave Cassilda her powers, so you wouldn't be the first to think that.

"Anyway, one day, after an orgy, when Cassilda was vulnerable during that regeneration thing she does, the woman took her by surprise. She had hidden a knife in the room and plunged it into Cassilda chest, breaking the outline of the sign. The maenad said Cassilda instantly began to shrivel and probably would have died if she hadn't grabbed the woman's knife hand when she went to slash her again.

"She was able to regain her vitality, and then some, by consuming it from the woman. All that was left of her was a shriveled leathery corpse that might have weighed ten pounds, if even that. The Yellow Sign was also restored, and there was no scar.

"The maenad had the impression that Cassilda's reaction was more of a protective reflex action; that if the woman had just run away from her after the first stab, Cassilda probably would have died--- maybe. No one knows if she can be killed."

"She's always on guard ever since which is how she picked up on your thoughts about killing her.

Ambrose flushed red. "I don't think I can hate her like that anymore. That's not my proudest moment."

Pippi let him have his moment of remorse.

After a while, he asked "Are you telling me the truth when you said you don't know what she is?"

"Absolutely. She's like a creature from some cosmic horror novel, until you get to know her at least. I think you can see now that she's not all that horrific. But she still can be, so just try to be a good person to her and everyone in her orbit. On the other hand, she'll defend you more fiercely than your own mother ever could or even would."

"She didn't defend me when those men were feeling me up."

"That was punishment and, she knew you liked it even if you didn't know it at the time."

Ambrose was lost imagining Cassilda consuming the life force of her would-be assassin. But he was able to push it aside, however, because of something else that piqued his curiosity.

"If the Masked Man is possessed by the King in Yellow, are the governesses also possessed by him? I mean, there's something weird about them."

Pippi breathed in. "I don't know how or why, but those bodies are not inhabited by the original souls or minds or whatever makes a person a person, but they're not inhabited by the king either. I don't think he can inhabit multiple bodies.

"Remember when I taught you about the Salem Witch trials? well those bodies are possessed by four of the victims. When you heard one of them start to call Bishop, 'Goody', that's the nick name version of 'Goodwife,' they sort of used it like 'Mrs.' back in the day. I deliberately left that part out of the lesson when you told me about the incident. And just to be clear, their original bodies were nowhere near that big. The Salem victims have inhabited different bodies through the years, those particular bodies belonged to female body builders who did something worth punishment. No one knows what, and Cassilda won't say, but those souls are gone."

Ambrose could scarcely wrap his mind around this revelation. "Are all her women followers like that?"

"A lot of them, but not all."

"You once taught me about Dionysus and his maenads, and she calls her followers maenads, do you mean to tell---"

"That she's Dionysus? No, that would be way before her time. She calls them that because they will rip anyone to shreds on her say so and also because of all the orgies they have."

Ambrose remembered his first night at Carcosa.

"On my first night here, as the Governesses dragged me out of Cassilda's 'throne room', I could swear--- I only saw it for a split second, but I could swear I saw Cassilda and a few of her women--- becoming--- one huge mass of flesh."

"I've heard about that, but I've never seen it. To be honest, I thought someone was trying to pull my leg until just now when you mentioned it."

"But only for a split second, I could be wrong."

"What are the odds that you hallucinated something so freakishly strange that I also happened to have heard about before we even met?"

Pippi broke the mood. "You must be hungry; I know I am so let's get some dinner. Let's dry you off, then I need you to go to your room. You'll see some lingerie, the full works, waiting on your bed. Fix your hair and put on some makeup but don't go crazy, it doesn't have to be professional. I'll meet you in the kitchen." They both left the bedroom together and went their separate ways.

Since he had to walk through the kitchen to get to his room, he was surprised to find Pippi there speaking to Governess Goode about dinner. He had no idea that two people could simultaneously take two different directions to get to the same room. It seemed a minor detail considering the impossible bathroom.

"Long time no see," he kidded Pippi.

"Go get dressed," she smiled.

The lingerie waiting for him was identical to the canary yellow outfit he first wore but it was better fitted to account for the changes in his body since then and matching slippers. It had seemed an odd color for lingerie but now that he had an eye for such things, he knew that any color could lend a sensuality to clothing that competed with sexy jet black or hot passionate red.

Despite Pippi's instructions, he couldn't resist going beyond a basic touch up when it came to his make-up. Having discovered how pretty he could be, he had to flaunt it.

When he went back to the kitchen, he was surprised to see that dinner had not yet been served.

"We'll be eating in the small dining room," Pippi informed him.

"What dining room?" he realized he hadn't seen any dining room at all In Carcosa.

Pippi ignored his question, slipped her arm affectionally into his and began walking him through a part of the mansion he had never seen before.

Through physical contact, Pippi could feel the moment Ambrose' intrigue turned to shock when he saw Manuel already seated at the table in the intimately sized dining room. The big man politely stood up upon seeing them walk in.

"Manuel will be joining us for dinner."

"My god, Ms. Sweet! Are you're deliberately trying to drive me crazy?"

With what he now knew about himself, Ambrose couldn't get a handle on his feelings. The fact remained, however, that he got an erection during the ballet lesson that disturbed him so. Just like the heart wants what it wants, an erection doesn't lie.

Pippi let go of his trembling arm and quickly grabbed a seat adjacent to Manuel.

As the table was small, there were no good options for Ambrose. If he sat across from Pippi, he'd be around at an adjacent corner from Manuel. Remembering Manuel's bear hug in the dance room, he feared the man might get too touchy feely. He also feared how he'd react to Manuel's touches. The only real choice was to sit across from Manuel, the drawback there is that he'd have to face him during the entire meal.

Manuel suddenly rushed around the table to pull the chair out for him. In doing so, he put himself between Ambrose and the chair so that he could lightly place his hand on Ambrose' back to guide him. Had Ambrose been wearing a robe, there'd be no anxiety. Had he been naked, any anxiety he felt could be attributed to the universal sense of exposure and vulnerability typified by awkward sleep dreams. But Ambrose was not robed or naked. He was wearing lingerie; boudoir attire donned as a prelude to sex.

That was when Ambrose distinctly spelled out a stunning admission to himself: "Oh my god, I want a black man to fuck me." It was not a welcome thought of the kind that might have brought with it the same sense of liberation he felt when he succumbed to his need to suck the Masked Man's cock. It was a thought that while distressing, could not halt his burgeoning erection.

As Ambrose sat, Manuel pushed the chair in for him then went back to his own chair.

Ambrose was trying not to tremble visibly and largely failing.

"Well Manuel, I think you've become smitten by our own little kitten."

"She's rhyming as if this was funny," thought Ambrose, fearfully annoyed.

"She's breathtaking," said Manuel.

Ambrose experienced a sort of butt plug phantom sensation. What the fuck was happening to him he wondered. It was one thing to suck a white cock and consume all that glorious cum. It was quite another to be lusting after a---.

Because of the times he was born into, Ambrose was not quite as racist as his father, but some of that attitude had splattered onto him like sludge that was difficult to remove; he still felt uncomfortable around minorities, particularly black men.

Manuel was physically imposing, but except for his obvious fixation on Ambrose, he was genuinely nice, kind, polite and was well spoken. These were all qualities that on an intellectual level he knew black people possessed, but on a gut level, it was difficult to accept. Some tiny piece of him always saw himself as better than people of color. But now that he was aware of his kink and had embraced it, he had to contend with the fact that Manuel was most definitely a real man, whereas Ambrose was not.

"Are we back to 'Ambrose' now?" Manuel asked.

"You can keep calling him Amanda if you want. I'm sure Ambrose won't mind. Ambrose, do you mind if Manuel here calls you Amanda?"

He barely heard her.

"Is something wrong?" asked Pippi.

What was wrong was the familiar tingling coming from his groin.

"No. I'm just a little self-conscious about eating dinner dressed like this."

"It's a nice view from where I'm sitting." said Manuel. "Beautiful things should be on display."

"Ambrose, I asked you a question. Would you like to be called Amanda by Manuel?"

That wasn't what she had asked. She asked if he "minded" being called Amanda. "Liking" was a whole different matter. It's not the kind of mistake Pippi made. She seemed determined to make something happen between him and Manuel.

"Ambrose. What's wrong with you? Answer the question, wouldn't you just 'love' it if Manuel called you Amanda."

Now she escalated from "like" to "love," but there was no reason he couldn't ignore that and answer the first version of the question.

"I don't mind if he calls me Amanda."

"But that's not what I asked, was it?"

Of course it was, it just wasn't the last version of the question. Ambrose wasn't sure yet if he was not still subjected to punishment and played it safe.

"I'd love it if Manuel called me Amanda." The answer was loaded with as much sarcasm as he dared.

"It's not a problem for me to call you Ambrose," Manuel came to his rescue.

Pippi looked at Manuel more than a little seriously. "No. He said he would love it if you called him Amanda and so Amanda it is."

Manuel obviously didn't seem comfortable calling him Amanda now, and Ambrose didn't think that he feared Pippi, but he happened to know that as a driver, Manuel was probably earning the kind of money he couldn't jeopardize; perhaps even much more than Stephen since he was clearly a big improvement over the former driver.

"Amanda it is," repeated Manuel. "Or Miss Amanda, that has a more respectful tone."

Respectful or not, it started not with "Ms.", but with the more archaic and somewhat submissive title of "Miss."

"Ambrose," Pippi broke in, "a highly attractive man also told you that he found you sexy. Isn't that the sort of thing you now find thrilling?" she said it innocently, but Ambrose knew better.

"No. Not necessarily," he said nervously.

"Really? If I ask you to stand, we're not going to see a little stiffy straining against those cute yellow panties?"

"I'm sorry to intrude and I don't mean to be rude, but I'm really hungry, can we eat now?"

Pippi chuckled. "That's you all the way Manuel, always the gentleman."

As if on cue, Governess Goode entered the intimate space with a serving cart.

It was not an overly lavish meal; it was simple really. There' was a salad with homemade dressing and steak and potatoes au gratin cooked as only Governess Goode could cook them, which meant everything was perfect.

For just a brief moment, Ambrose was distracted away from Manuel by the thought that the woman he knew as Governess Goode, was actually the spirit of someone who was executed for being a witch possessing a body which was far more physically imposing than her original body.

They engaged in meaningless small talk as they ate but Ambrose found it difficult to follow along because he was struggling to stifle his attraction to Manuel.

Once again, the image of Manuel laying on top of him and fucking him in his small bedroom flared up in his mind. As a voyeur to this image, he found the contrasting paleness of his soft limbs against Manuel's dark, muscular body jarringly erotic.

Again, he felt the phantom butt plug sensation.

"I have to say," said Manuel. "this is basically steak and potatoes but it's really delicious. Don't you think so Miss. Amanda?"

He could only stair at the smiling Manuel.

"Ambrose, Manuel asked you a question," admonished Pippi.

"Ye--- yeah--- I mean yes. But then I'm used to Governess Goode's cooking."

He felt battered about by the alternating use of the name Ambrose from Pippi, and Amanda from Manuel. Which one was he really?

More small talk ensued, after which wine was served, followed by more small talk.

Then: "How tall are you Manuel?" Pippi asked. "If you don't mind my asking."

Pippi was obviously leading up to something. Though Ambrose was extremely trepidatious, perhaps scared as hell, he was also thrilled at the possibilities.

"That's OK. I'm six foot eight on a good day."

"Woof. That's pretty big. That's a little bit more than a foot taller than Ambrose."

"You're quite tall yourself, for a woman I mean."

"I'm about five ten in bare feet but I almost always wear high heels or platform shoes so that adds height. Do you mind coming around here? I want a side by side comparison between you and Ambrose."

"Well, maybe we should ask Miss Amanda if that's OK with her. Is that OK with you Miss Amanda?"

Disoriented by the wine, Ambrose struggled to figure out if he should risk punishment by just doing as he pleased and refusing the request. If punishment was still a factor, that is. The conundrum he really faced was that he wasn't exactly sure of what he really wanted to do.

He could always still ask to leave he remembered, but now there was a whole new world of carnal delights awaiting him and he wasn't sure if he was yet ready to pick up men on his own. He assumed that they would be provided for him.

He could only utter "Yes." But he forgot the question.

Oh! It was whether or not it was OK for Manuel to stand beside him for a size comparison. But that "yes came out husky and syrupy; as if he hungered for the man.

And with that Manuel walked over and pulled out his chair allowing Ambrose to stand. He had done it in such a way that he failed to notice, perhaps on purpose, that Ambrose had a full erection.

"Get closer," Pippi prodded.

When they stood side by side, Manuel unexpectedly placed an arm around Ambrose protectively, and pulled him in close as if Ambrose was his woman. Despite himself, Ambrose placed his arm behind Manuel and held onto his waist feeling his rock-hard muscles.

"You two make a really cute couple."

Goddamn it Pippi.

She pulled out her smart phone and held it horizontally to snap a picture. Ambrose almost went into full panic mode. What if she posted that pic on social media? What then? Even as he thought it, he knew the answer. He'd be ashamed. And then of course he'd be thrilled.

She handed them the phone. They were both good looking, but Ambrose couldn't see how they made cute couple. Between his lingerie and Manuel's jacket and tie, it appeared as if it was taken at a bachelor party where Ambrose was one of the hookers, or perhaps the only hooker, hired to service all the men.

Ambrose now pictured himself on his knees with a bunch of large black penises on or near his face, each one competing for his mouth. Wanting to be fucked by a nice black man was one thing, fantasizing about being gangbanged by many others was another.

And now, after having thought it, Ambrose wasn't so sure he wouldn't also want that. Perhaps at this imaginary bachelor party, Manuel was the only "civilized" one. Maybe the others were all thugs and cruel criminal types who had grown accustomed to making white men their bitches in prison. And perhaps those white men eventually succumbed to a sort of Stockholm syndrome where they welcomed having massive black cocks rammed into their mouths while another invaded his asshole--- their assholes.