Camorra Chapter 2

Benjamin dressed quickly, and made his way downstairs. Threading his way through the passageways, he followed his nose, and found the kitchen. There, he was greeting in a noisily friendly fashion by the cook, who insisted on calling him ‘young Master Benjamin’, which made him embarrassed. She bustled over the stove for a moment, before producing a plate with bacon, eggs, and sausage upon it. He took the plate from her and sat at the table she motioned too, and she brought him a toast-rack with two slices in it, and a pot of the same tea he had drunk the night before. As he tucked in, she fussed around him, wiping surfaces and generally being cheerful. As he finished up and wiped the crumbs from his mouth, she looked at the clock and exclaimed, “Gracious, dearie, it’s almost nine! You’re to report to the Library, Master Camorra said, at nine, to sort your effects out. You best run you don’t want to be late!” With a motherly push, she sent him off.

In the Library, Camorra sat and mused. The recollections of last night came unbidden to his mind, and his fingers tightened on the edge of the armchair as he remember the boy’s lithe body, his taut muscles, his groans, his anguished frown as he lost all control. He knew that Benjamin would remember the dream, and would see the mark that he had left, but knew not how he would react. Unknowingly, he licked his lips, as if searching for remnant of the boys sweet taste, and a hand drifted downwards to press upon the growing hardness arising in his crotch.

Luckily, enveloped in memory and fantasy as he was, his acute hearing remained, and he straightened up in the chair as he heard Benjamin approach. There was a knock at the door, and, at Camorra’s command, Benjamin entered. He bowed awkwardly, and stammered, “Good morning, Camorra, sir. I trust this day finds you well?” As he made eye contact, the faintest of blushes suffused over his cheeks. Camorra stifled a groan at the sight of it, and returned, “Yes, young man, very well. I trust you were not troubled by unwelcome dreams? I know what disturbances an unfamiliar bed can wreak upon the mind, especially if one is prior troubled.” Camorra was almost stunned at the words that escaped him, but the sight of that blush returning more vigourously clouded his mind with lust and banished any regret at his choice of words.