32 - I’m ashamed of my penis.

I stood before the washbasin.

The pants were long gone.

Only the underwear remained.

And my gaze was lowered.

Not out of shame.

Out of humility.

I washed myself.

Slowly.

Started with my shoulders.

Moved over my chest.

Then over my belly.

But… I didn’t go further.

He sat at the table.

Silent.

Like a judge.

Like a Master.

I knew

he was watching me.

I felt his gaze

like a warm blade on my skin.

Not cutting—

but sharp enough to hide nothing.

Then came his voice.

“Wash yourself everywhere.

Take off your underwear.

You don’t need to be ashamed

for not having a stallion’s cock.”

I froze.

Just for a moment.

My heart beat faster.

Not out of embarrassment—

but because I didn’t want him

to think we were equals.

I wasn’t small.

Quite the opposite.

I could match him.

And that…

I didn’t want.

I wanted to be small.

Lesser.

Clearly.

What if he looked at me

and suddenly lost something?

Respect?

Lust?

That sense of being above me?

I couldn’t risk that.

So I did

what a good servant does.

“Yes, Sir.”

I slowly pulled down the underwear.

Not facing him.

I turned my back to him.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

I wanted him to see my back.

My ass.

Those rounded shapes

he liked—

and that belonged to him.

But in truth—

I was hiding my cock.

Maybe my ass reminded him of an apple.

His apples.

His property.

I heard

his breath pause—

just a second.

Then:

“Look at me, boy.”

Shit!