Winter in Alfar was barely a nuance, an imperceptible variation in the eternal gentleness of its climate. Located on the imaginary border between Africa and Asia, the island enjoyed an enviable position: equidistant from both coasts, but blessed with winds that, instead of setting the land ablaze with their scorching breath, enveloped it in a fertile humidity, preserving the lushness of its landscapes. Nature responded with exuberance to this perfect balance: forests of an impossible green, gardens where flowers competed in fragrance and color, and waters that sparkled under the sun with a languor of liquid silk.

Jorge was in an excellent mood. The morning had begun with a prolonged shower, more pleasant than hygienic, in which his four personal slaves had deployed their expertise in the art of service. Then, still wrapped in the voluptuous laziness of perfumed water, he had breakfasted with the opulence of a prince, in obedience - or perhaps in ironic defiance - to the many modern manuals of nutrition that pretend to dictate the ideal diet. Now, with the satisfaction of someone who possesses not only control of his day, but also of the lives that surround him, he awaited the arrival of his recent acquisitions from the previous day.

The two new slaves had spent the night quite busy, first subjected to definitive depilation by electrolysis and later to the piercing of their nipples; both endured it admirably. By that hour of the morning, they would have been carefully cleaned, discreetly perfumed, and prepared with the genital restrainer that Jorge had ordered for them, although at the time of presentation he had arranged for them not to wear it so he could contemplate them well. Now they must be waiting for the signal to present themselves before him, with the rehearsed but still trembling submission of those who do not know if their first encounter with the master will be kind or severe.

Jorge crossed one leg over the other and reclined on the dark wood divan, enjoying the play of morning lights that filtered through the curtains; he was in the room adjacent to the bedroom, which he generally used as an office. He wondered what expressions he would find on their faces: fear, gratitude, bewilderment... Everything depended on their temperament and the attitude with which they had accepted their destiny.

With a slight gesture of his hand, he indicated to his assistant that he should leave and bring them in, without even considering the possibility that some delay or inconvenience had prevented the presence of his two new companions; he was left alone in the company of Álex before the new slaves entered.

There they were. And they were even better than he remembered. Without a trace of hair, without a shadow of a beard, with smooth and radiant skin under the morning light. And, of course, absolutely naked.

The younger of the two caught his gaze first. He had green eyes of an unsettling brilliance...