Page 90 of The Beast Who Bought Me
He doesn’t look as worried about it as he should.
Lorenzo Benedetti arrives later that morning with the same tools and swatches that he brought before. This time, when Rosa brings him into the great room, both the Clemenza and I are there to greet him together. He brightens immediately on seeing Caligula. But I step forward and put out my hand to shake, so he knows who’s really in charge.
“Another tuxedo?” he asks Caligula with a beaming smile.
“Not exactly,” I say. “I need a business suit.”
His eyes stray to me with surprise. “It’s for you, Mr. Orsini?”
Caligula steps forward before I can ask Benedetti what’s so fucking surprising about that. “I told him we simply had to call you in again. No one cuts a suit quite like you do. Not this side of the Atlantic, anyway.”
The old man practically giggles and blushes. I suppose there’s something to be learned from Caligula Clemenza, if I wanted tocharm and flatter people. I don’t think I’d be as good at it as he is, though.
“We’d better take some measurements,” Benedetti says, bustling toward me with a measuring tape.
“You heard the man, Dami,” Caligula coos. “Strip.”
“I don’t need to strip—” I start.
“The cutwillbe much superior if I can drape it specifically to your musculature,” Benedetti says.
Maybe he just wants my dick in his face or something. But I don’t like the grin Caligula has on his face. I know this is intended as payback, but hell, at leastI’mnot wearing a cock cage. Besides, I’ve got no problem with nudity.
“Just sit down,” I growl at the Clemenza. “And put that damn blanket over your knees. Rosa will have my hide if she doesn’t think you’re warm enough.”
She’s already been fussing around him this morning, getting on my last nerve. Caligula takes my usual seat, pulling the blanket over his knees obediently. He gives a bright smile and says, “This time you can bemydress-up doll, Dami.”
I’m about to tell him to shut his mouth when Benedetti lets out a fatherly chuckle and shakes his head at me as though we’re sharing a joke together. “Signor Clemenza seems much improved,” he confides to me in a low voice. “I am glad to see someone in the city is caring for him. He does not deserve the things that have happened to him.”
I don’t want to get into a big discussion about that, so I start stripping off, because it usually shuts people up. And it works,as far as Benedetti goes—his eyes widen only slightly, but from him, that’s as good as a gasp and a pearl clutch.
The tattoos all over my arms and the scars on various parts of my body are threatening enough as they are, but my muscles are just as impressive. And they should be. I’ve been working on them since I was thirteen.
Benedetti starts measuring me, and soon he has an air of professional focus. I’m not sure if that’s any better, since he has me turning this way and that, and at one point I have to face Caligula full on, arms extended, and watch him gawk at me without shame.
“He really is a remarkable specimen,” Caligula says. “Don’t you think so, Lorenzo?”
“Oh yes,” the tailor murmurs, noting down figures with a small pencil in a tiny notebook. “It is a privilege to dress a man like this.”
It’s the first time I’ve ever heard Lorenzo Benedetti say something about me that sounded sincere.
And there’s a benefit to playing along with the Clemenza, which is that Benedetti’s respect begins to extend to me. By the time he leaves, he’s bowed and scraped to me as much as he has to Caligula. Of course, it shouldn’t take the golden tongue of a snake to earn me the respect of a fucking tailor, but even so…
It feels pretty good.
When we’re done, I walk the man out myself, telling Caligula to stay right there in the chair and save his strength. “Listen,” I say to Benedetti at the door. “I know this ain’t something you normally do, but Caligula, he needs a whole wardrobe. Notcustom,” I add hastily. “Bought stuff is fine. But he came to me with almost nothing and?—”
“Signor Orsini, it would be my greatest pleasure. You are right, it is not our normal work, but my wife, Maria, is very fond of the young gentleman, and would be delighted to pick out an appropriate wardrobe for him. We have a grandson just a little older than Signor Clemenza, who shares the same taste; he will be able to advise.”
“Appreciate it,” I tell him. Except I think I’m talking more about his respect toward me than his agreement to act as a personal shopper for my captive. Either way, Benedetti takes it as another sign of my care for the Clemenza. If it lifts my cred with the guy, I guess it’ll be worth it.
When I go back to the great room, Caligula looks pleased with himself but tired. He still hasn’t fully recovered from his exhaustion, and I guess keeping him up half the night sawing my dick between his thighs didn’t help much. “You better go sleep,” I tell him.
“I’m not tired.” But his eyes are already half-closed as I put out a hand to help him from the chair. “When did Lorenzo say the suit would be ready?”
“I told him it wasn’t urgent. A few days, probably. You’re still barely able to get out of bed for a couple of hours, so there’s no point getting a rush job on the suit if we don’t need it yet.”
When we get back up to my bedroom, I usher him in, and I stay outside.
