25 – On the Wooden Bench with Giorgio

We walked back to the house.

Slowly.

Silently.

I could still feel the dampness on my skin.

Between my legs.

Across my stomach.

Between my thighs.

I smelled like him.

And that felt right.

I had never felt so…

right in my own body.

I walked a little behind him.

Not out of fear.

But because I knew:

He leads. I follow.

When we reached the back entrance,

he sat down on the wooden bench.

It was old.

Weathered.

And it looked as if no one had ever sat there beside him.

Now I did.

I sat next to him.

Not too close.

But not far away either.

He was quiet.

So was I.

But inside me, something stirred.

I smelled him.

I smelled myself.

I smelled us.

And it was as if I had finally

found a shape I was allowed to stay in.

Then I heard his voice.

“Have you had many men?”

I exhaled.

Slowly.

“No…” I said.

“Just one. In school.

Martino.”

I didn’t know whether I should tell it.

But I did.

“He forced me…

to suck him.

Over and over again during middle school.

He was cruel.

Someone you couldn’t say no to.

His family had mafia connections.

He was scrawny. Pale.

Nothing like you.”

My voice trembled.

“I remember how ashamed I was.

I didn’t know I was… like this.

Back then, it was coercion.

Now, sometimes I think…

a part of me was still… aroused by it.

And that shame stays with me.”

I didn’t look up.

But I could feel his presence.

“Today, after meeting you…

I realized

I didn’t want it then –

but that I am…

this way.”

I felt tears.

But they didn’t fall.

Just pressure.

“You never forced me,” I whispered.

“You asked me. You gave me a choice.

I chose to be your slave.

To serve you. To give myself to you.

So you can do with me what you want.

Command me as you wish.

I am yours. Freely.”

And that…

changed everything.

I looked up.

And there he was.

And he looked at me

not like someone who judged.

But like someone who listened.

Not out of love.

Not out of pity.

But because I was his.

And only he was allowed to break me.

Then he asked:

“Do you know anyone else like… us?”

I shook my head.

“No. Only Martino.”

Silence.

I felt

the world grow smaller.

More focused.

Just the two of us.

Just this bench.

Just this night.

And I knew:

I had arrived.

Somewhere I had never searched for.

But had been found in.