Sebastien drank his coffee and spooned mousse into his mouth.
“You work very hard, senhor Sebastien, and long hours,” Estevao commented as he attacked his own cup of mousse.
“I have to, Estevao. I don’t have much choice. I have a lot to learn, if I’m going to understand how things are done here.”
“Still, you should take some recreation. Especially in the evenings. At night.”
“I haven’t had a chance to become bored, yet. And when I do go to bed at night I tend to fall asleep right away. It’s very quiet and restful here at night.”
“You will have noticed, I am sure, that there are many more men than women working here on the fazenda. Of course, many of the men have families, in the nearby towns and villages. Those who do not actually live here on the fazenda go home to their wives and children at night.”
Sebastien didn’t quite know where this conversation was headed, so he said nothing, but waited for Estevao to go on.
“Many of the unmarried men who have no homes to go to turn to one another for companionship at night,” the valet said blandly.
“I imagine they do. That would be only natural.”
“Even some of those who think of themselves as great womanizers have been known to form such attachments.”
“Estevao…are we talking about what I think we’re talking about?”
“We are talking about how some of the men amuse themselves in their leisure time.”
“And are you suggesting that I amuse myself in a similar fashion?”
“There is no reason why you should not, if your inclinations lie in that direction. I could easily arrange it.”
“I think we’ve known each other long enough, Estevao, for us to be a little more forthright with one another. Are you telling me you would be willing and able to find me a sex partner?”
“I am here to attend to your needs. And to your wishes.”
“But this task might put even your resourcefulness to the test.”
“I must disagree. Nothing could be simpler. Remember that I know these men well. Many of them are excited to have such a handsome young master.”
“Flatterer.”
“I do not flatter. They speak openly of it—among themselves.”
“Really? And exactly how would you go about recruiting one of the men for this project you propose?”
“Nothing could be simpler,” Estevao repeated. “I would point out to you those I consider to be the most likely candidates. You would make your choice. I would approach the man, and say to him, ‘The mestre would not be adverse to having some companionship this evening, in the main house. To play cards, or billiards, or chess…or simply to converse, to give the mestre a chance to practice his Portuguese.’” Estevao made it all sound as easy as going to a supermarket and pulling an item off a shelf. Easier, in fact! Sebastien thought about the escort service, back in New York. Here, apparently, he wouldn’t even need to make a phone call!
“The man—this purely theoretical man, about whom we are speaking purely theoretically—would expect to be paid, I assume.”
“Oh no, senhor. He would expect nothing of the kind. He might even be offended, if he were offered money. He would do this only for the sake of the mutual pleasure, his and yours. Of course, should some sort of an ongoing relationship develop between the two of you—an understanding—then he would not refuse some small gift, as a token of the bond between you. Some practical item, perhaps, which he might be saving his pay to buy, and which would not arouse the curiosity or the envy of the other men.”
“You seem to have it all figured out, Estevao, quite carefully and in detail.”
“I believe you norte-americanos have an expression, which I sometimes heard senhor Gilberto use—‘My mother did not raise me to be no fool?’” Estevao smiled sweetly.
“Estevao…are you telling me that you performed such services for my uncle? Or even that you and he?”
“Oh no, senhor Sebastien. Not that I would have been unwilling. I would have given myself freely. But there was no such occasion. Your uncle’s tastes lay in quite the opposite direction. He admired beautiful women. I understand, from what I have heard from others, and from what he told me himself, that in his younger days he was considered to be quite a ladies’ man, and that he made many conquests. Until—”
“Until what?”
Estevao suddenly seemed to be choosing his words very carefully. “Until he reached the age at which a man begins to prefer a more settled way of life.”
“I’m not sure I have reached that age yet, myself.”
“No, you have not. All the more reason why you should…indulge yourself.”
“And you, Estevao…would you be willing to indulge me? Personally, I mean, in addition to recruiting other men for me?”
“Of course.” Estevao had stood up, and was replacing the empty mousse cups on the tray.
“Out of a sense of obligation? Forgive me, but that idea leaves me a bit cold.”
“It would not only be that.” Estevao moved a step closer to Sebastien. “I have a terrible confession to make to you, senhor,” he said, in a low voice. “Something that shocks even the priest in Guarás, whenever I make my confession to him. He makes me say many rosaries, on my knees, as my penance, and he tells me he despairs for my soul. But I am a sinful man, and I cannot help myself.”
“This sounds intriguing.”
“You may think it shameful.”
“I don’t think I’m particularly judgmental. Don’t leave me in suspense. Out with it.”
“I am a complete submissive.” But Estevao’s tone and manner, as he said that, were almost boastful. “My greatest pleasure is to service other men, in any way they desire. It excites me. You would be surprised—even men who say they are interested only in women have wavered, after they have been with me.”
“Actually, that doesn’t surprise me at all. I imagine you can be very persuasive.”
Estevao extended his left leg, and tugged at his trousers, raising the cuff just enough so that Sebastien could see the upper part of his boot. Wound around the ankle of the boot, and neatly tied, was a long strip of rawhide.
“Why do you think some of the other men and I carry a cord around with us, like this?” Estevao asked.
“I imagine because it may come in handy, on the job,” Sebastien speculated.
“That is true. But it can also ‘come in handy,’ as you say, off the job,” Estevao said. “Even with such a simple implement, it is easy to restrain a man—to render him helpless, and at another man’s mercy. Sometimes I enjoy playing a harmless little game, in which I allow another man to tie my hands behind my back. I pretend to be his slave, completely at his mercy. I allow him to do whatever he wishes to do to me. I say I allow him, but in fact I have no choice in the matter, once my wrists are bound. That is what makes the game so exciting.”
“I see.”
“Is it true that in the big cities in North America there are many men who enjoy such relationships, in which one man is dominant and the other is submissive?”
“Oh, yes. Sometimes the same man is versatile, as they say, and likes it either way. So he and his partners take turns. We call it playing top and bottom, In English.”
“And such men seek each other out, so that they may socialize, in groups, in bars and in clubs?”
“Sure. Let’s just say that I know places back home where you would be very popular, Estevao, and leave it at that. I don’t doubt that such things go on in the big cities right here in Brazil, too.”
“Yes. But things are different here on Marajó. The men here are by nature more discreet.”
“As are you.”
“Yes.”
Sebastien couldn’t think of anything further to say. “Ah…you have chocolate smeared on your mouth, Estevao.”
Estevao took the napkin from the tray and wiped his lips with it. “Is it gone now?”
“Yes.” Sebastien began to log off, and to s
hut down the computer. “I think I’ve done enough, for tonight. I think I’ll go to bed.”
Estevao picked up the tray. “I will take these things back to the kitchen, and then I will return.”
“All right. I’ll see you in the bedroom.”
Sebastien felt a strange, nervous excitement, replacing his former fatigue, as he turned out the light in the study and went to his bedroom.
Estevao had—well, Estevao hadn’t exactly propositioned him, not in so many words. But he had all but broadcast his sexual availability, and he had even strongly hinted at exactly what he preferred to do in bed. Estevao, Sebastien was now quite sure, was what was commonly called “a power bottom.” Complete submissive, hell! The little bastard gave new meaning to the term passive aggressive, and any man he serviced—in or out of bed!—was simply deluding himself if he thought he was the one in control.
Sebastien activated his cell phone again.
“Estevao, are you still in the kitchen?”
“Yes, senhor.”
“I would like a nightcap. Bring me the bottle of port. And two glasses. You’ll have a drink with me, won’t you, before we go to bed?”
“Of course, senhor Sebastien. It would be my great pleasure.”
Dutch courage, perhaps, Sebastien thought, as he hung up. But what the hell!
A few minutes later, master and servant were seated comfortably together in Sebastien’s bedroom, sipping their port.
“Estevao…?”
“Senhor?”
“We are not just master and servant, are we? I would like to think that we have started to become good friends.”
“You are the mestre, and I am proud to serve you, but I am also very fond of you.”
“You are only a few years younger than I am, Estevao. Sometimes you seem very mature for your age…and at other times, you act like a big kid.”
“A big kid? Is that bad?”
“No, I find it endearing. It’s like having a younger brother, a kid brother, as we say in English. You can be awfully damn bossy at times, Estevao…but you can also be very sweet.”
“You are kind to say so, mestre. Perhaps…you would like me to be kind to you. To show you how good I am at pleasing a man.”
“Ah…if that’s a proposition, Estevao…?”
“Of course it is a proposition.” There was an unusual boldness in Estevao’s voice and facial expression, in contrast to his customary passive demeanor.
“As tempting as it is, maybe it wouldn’t be such a good idea.”
“I know what you are thinking, senhor Sebastien.”
“Oh, you do, do you? So now you are a mind reader, in addition to your many other talents?”
“Yes.” Estevao spoke without irony. “You are thinking that, if we make love, in the morning I will try to take advantage of the situation. I will become arrogant, and no longer behave like a servant.”
“Well…not such a bad guess, actually.”
“You need have no fear. I will not change. I know my place.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“The night has its mysteries, which the day need not know.”
“Very poetically put. You continue to surprise me, Estevao.”
“I would like very much to be given the chance to surprise you—pleasantly, I trust—here and now. Tonight.”
“All right.” The port had begun to give Sebastien the start of a pleasurable buzz, numbing his very few remaining inhibitions about the possible outcome of this highly provocative conversation.
“But, senhor Sebastien, before you invite me into your bed, there is something else you must know about me.”
“And what might that be, Estevao?”
“I am not a pure white man. I am the descendent of people of Mulatto blood. Distantly, perhaps…but nonetheless I am descended from slaves.”
“What possible difference could that make to me?”
“I am told that many norte-americanos entertain certain prejudices about ancestry and skin color.”
“Well, you’ve got me there, I do have to admit. But I am not among them. I think it is delightful that men come in all sorts of sizes, shapes, and colors. The greater the variety, the better, as far as I am concerned. And here in Brazil the racial and ethnic diversity is very much to my taste.”
“I am glad to hear you say that, senhor.”
“As for you personally, Estevao…I’m not interested in your pedigree. You interest me. You’re a delightful companion. And, quite aside from your personality, you’re a very attractive man—as I have told you before, I seem to recall. You’re extremely hot, as we say where I come from.”
“When you talk like that, mestre, you make me feel very excited.”
“And right now I’m beginning to feel the need for less talk, and more action. Come here, Estevao. And that’s an order!”
“As you command, mestre.” As he closed the distance between them, Estevao did what he had not dared to do up until then—he took the sexual initiative. He gave the older man a lewd, inviting smile, and asked in a desire-husky growl, “Is that the only order you intend to issue tonight, senhor? “
“No, not by a damn sight!” Sebastien retorted. “I’m just getting started!”
To his delight, Estevao didn’t wait for any additional instructions, at least not for the time being. He seized Sebastien, hauled him bodily out of his armchair, guided him across the room—and then pushed him down on the massive bed, his hands already working to remove all of Sebastien’s clothes from his sturdy body, while his tongue plunged deep into Sebastien’s open, panting, and very willingly receptive mouth.
They kissed for some time before Estevao interrupted their oral contact.
“I had better go lock the doors,” Estevao gasped.
Sebastien was gratified by this evidence that Estevao might be a horny young number, but he was indeed no fool—he obviously wanted Sebastien, but he wasn’t going to risk their getting caught in the act by one of the other house servants, and becoming the objects of kitchen gossip. It was highly unlikely that senhora Beatriz, or any of the maids, would have any reason to set foot in this wing of the house at this time of night, except in the event of some unforeseen emergency. Still, Sebastien rationalized, one could never be too careful, especially when the mestre’s reputation was at stake.
“Not a bad idea. Lock the doors, and then I’ll start teaching you everything you need to know about how your new mestre likes to be served!”
Sebastien was getting increasingly excited. He had a feeling that this was going to rival one of his sessions with Neil, back home in New York!
When Estevao came back to the bed, they kissed again, even more passionately, their hands groping for each other’s crotches and toying with what they discovered there. Estevao was still wearing his undershorts, but when he pushed them down his thick-muscled thighs and stepped out of them, Sebastien received instant confirmation of what he had already suspected. Estevao was hung like one of the four-legged residents of the stable, and he had a pair of large, plum-shaped and -colored testicles to match his hefty phallic endowment. Talk about bem dotado!
They were both nude now and Sebastien could feel his cock quickly awakening from its momentary torpor, lengthening and thickening, and throbbing with an inner excitement all its own, until it full matched Estevao’s own visible degree of arousal.
Estevao had declared himself to be a submissive, but as things turned out, Sebastien immediately discovered that he wasn’t the least bit shy or coy. On the contrary, he grasped his employer by both of his shoulders and pulled their chests together, already twisting his head slightly to one side so that his lips could brush against Sebastien’s. This time, Estevao kissed him quite lightly and delicately at first, letting out a little moan of appreciation. But suddenly his mouth opened and his tongue pushed out to lick Sebastien’s lips, then penetrate them, plunging deep into his master’s mouth. Sebastien reached up to grab Estevao’s head, his fingers raking through hi
s glossy black hair, and he returned the kiss with greedy passion, opening his mouth wide and sucking on the Brazilian’s tongue. Estevao moaned more loudly and his fingertips dig into Sebastien’s shoulder muscles, holding him tightly against his own body,
Sebastien returned his embrace, running his palms down Estevao’s back, toward his buttocks, which he gripped and kneaded, forcing Estevao’s hard cock to duel with his. After a moment, though, Estevao pushed Sebastien away from him, flat onto his back on the bed.
“Lie down, mestre,” he urged, “and let me make love to you. Let me please you!”
Sebastien obeyed. He lay with his arms thrown above his head, looking up toward the coffered ceiling of the bed. He saw the carved griffin on its headboard, and, on the wall behind it, the image of the crucified Christ—a mute witness of the two men’s lust. But then he instinctively closed his eyes in order to concentrate on the purely physical sensations coursing through his body. Estevao had straddled his thighs and was now leaning forward so that their dicks came into contact again. The valet licked Sebastien’s chin, his throat, his pecs …and then Sebastien groaned with delight when Estevao started to work on his nipples, using his mouth to suck on one hard tit, his tongue-tip rubbing saliva over the little cone while his fingers teased its twin.
After he had serviced each of Sebastien’s nipples in this way, the brawny young cowboy attacked his armpits, licking them, breathing hard and moaning as though the taste of Sebastien’s sweat was intoxicating him. He even caught tufts of Sebastien’s armpit hair in his teeth and tugged on them while his hands pressed against Sebastien’s chest and massaged his pecs and nipples once more.
Sebastien was desperate with passion by the time Estevao slid down his torso, shoved his head between his thighs, and began to lick and suck on his balls, coaxing both fat orbs inside his wet lips at once and slurping on them with loud, obscene greed. Sebastien’s prick was so stiff by now that it felt absolutely inflexible. When Estevao—still mouthing his testicles—grabbed the shaft, he could bend it only slightly. Letting Sebastien’s nuts slip wetly out of his mouth, he had to raise his head to get his tongue on the bloated cockshaft.
“You will see, mestre,” he boasted. “I am the best chupador on Marajó!”
Brazilian Cattle Baron (Siren Publishing Ménage and More ManLove) Page 26
