My Private Pleasure
Terrence Matherly the third—the third in a long line of well-schooled bastards—disciplines me. This is a private matter and a private pleasure I speak of only in whispers and to as few people as possible, though sometimes—confession being good for the soul—I have to express these things to someone or I’ll explode. Confession in this case is not only good for my soul, but my sanity and my peace of mind as well. For it is my peace of mind that requires me submit to Matherly in the first place.
I call him Matherly inside my head, refer to him as Terrence to my friends because they believe him to be my lover, and as such, I should be familiar enough to address him by his given name, but to his face, I only refer to him as, “sir.”
For some time, I have assumed I’ll cas
