—Eat my ass, slave —Jorge ordered, with that calm confidence he had learned to use with them.

It was three in the morning, and after sleeping a few hours peacefully, the master had woken up with the desire to be served and pleased.

"Yes, Master" —Víctor replied, leaning forward with devotion over his skin. His tongue began its work with skill, tracing the learned path with submissive eagerness. Jorge sighed and buried his face in the pillow, letting himself be adored without haste, feeling the warm humidity of that mouth working with the precision of a devotee in his ritual.

"It's incredible how quickly you learn to serve me."

In their free time, the slaves tried to learn as much as possible from Álex.

"Yes, Master" —Víctor whispered, barely moving his lips for an instant, not fully understanding what his master was saying, but that didn't matter.

The three new slaves slept on the floor, at his feet, but with one eye open in case their services were needed; they couldn't stay asleep if the Master was awake.

Jorge smiled. He knew the twins competed for his favor. He noticed it in every sideways glance, in every contained gesture, in the precision with which they fulfilled his orders, as if submission were a race in which one couldn't afford to fall behind. This silent struggle amused and pleased him in equal measure. He still hadn't fucked any of the three.

He raised his hand and with a slight movement called Álex, who obeyed immediately. He knelt beside him with the automatic elegance of someone trained to react in an instant. Jorge snapped his fingers, and the young man stood up in the inspection posture: hands clasped behind his neck, legs separated just so, elbows back. Perfect. It was like flipping a switch; without doubts, without hesitation.

Jorge contemplated him with pleasure. He liked seeing how Álex's body offered itself without reservation, how discipline had shaped his reflexes until he became the precise creature he now had before him. A slight shiver ran down his spine, excited by the slave's tongue caressing his anal hole.

Víctor continued with his task, unaware of everything, dedicated only to his duty, still a virgin in the ass, like his brother. His tongue traversed each fold with disciplined devotion, with the exactness of a rite that didn't need words. And he did it well. Not as well as his brother, that was true; Néstor had more softness, more grace, more innate skill, but Víctor compensated with his iron determination. Still, Jorge knew that this, precisely this, eating his ass, was what Víctor least liked to do. And that's why he chose him. A slave must obey with greater dedication what repels him, because pleasing in what he likes has no merit.

As Jorge gave himself to pleasure, he pondered. His mind kept returning to the same idea, probing it, savoring it like a strong wine he hadn't yet decided if he liked:...