...“Get up.”

Quickly Alonzo rose to his feet and waited, his hand gripped tightly around the handle of the machete at his side.

Master Phelix spun him around, then yanked him backward, fusing Alonzo’s back to the master’s chest. Master Phelix’s big, meaty hand clamped onto Alonzo’s more slender bicep, then slowing traveled down the length of his arm, his hand finally coming to rest over Alonzo’s fingers curled around the machete handle.

“Will you take instruction, boy?”

Alonzo felt the full, broad length of the master against his back. His hard cock pressed against Alonzo’s ass. Alonzo had yet to service this master sexually and he couldn’t help licking his lips in anticipation of the event. Adrenaline rushed through his veins. His cock engorged with the flow of blood marking his arousal. Perhaps now Master Phelix was ready to make use of him as more than a servant to carry his backpack.

It had been days now since Alonzo had had any form of real connection with another man. He’d watched as the other initiates attended to each other—Helmer with Krispin, Parker with David. David to Abel, and then Abel attending to the Trailmaster. Master Phelix’s attentions to any wounds Alonzo had, were only cursory at best, and quickly completed.

This was the first time the master had touched him so intimately, and Alonzo began to tremble beneath that welcoming familiarity.

“Whatever you wish to teach me, Master, I’m more than willing to take instruction.” His words came out breathless, his need so keen.

Master Phelix’s other arm clamped Alonzo to him, his hand biting into Alonzo’s abdomen with a firmness that had Alonzo hard as rock in anticipation of intimate possibilities.

“Do you miss being fucked, Alonzo?”

“Yes, Master.” Please fuck me. Right now. He wanted to say the words out loud, but didn’t.

“I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to sample you at the ceremony.” He drew both of Alonzo’s arms together over the handle of the machete. “Grip like this. Make your movements smooth and deliberate, put your weight into it. It’s not the same rhythm required for cutting underbrush. Make sure the object of your attentions knows you mean business and that you are skilled enough to attack the limb and get the job done to a satisfactory conclusion.”

The master’s mouth was now near Alonzo’s ear. He could feel his breath, hot against the cusp. He scented sweat and jungle. He heard the rustle of leaves and vines, indicating some small, perhaps deadly creature nearby.

“I-I have some skill, Master. I promise you, I can perform quite—quite satisfactorily.”

The master’s hands gripped tightly over Alonzo’s.

“You have big hands for a gentleman, boy. What did your father do for a living?”

“You want to be a gentleman? Stupid boy. You’re common folk. Don’t think you’ll ever rise to the level of your betters. A common boy meant to do uncommon tasks. Do you really think you have a future in doing anything other than servicing men like me?”

Alonzo blinked, focused on the bamboo tree with the mangled branch. He saw a gecko, and then he saw the boa, its wicked reptilian eyes trained on the gecko. Alonzo dropped his gaze to the empty clay jugs lying on their sides beneath the tree.