Bruce knew beyond a doubt he was about to shoot at any second. He was sweating now, and his face showed signs of strain. Any sec--
"Not now," Gustavus said. "Hold it."
Exasperated, Bruce released his grip on his cock.
"Pull up your pants," his Master said. "The lesson is over."
Bruce looked confused.
"DO AS I SAY," Gustavus ordered. "You're going to hold it in until I say so. Until I think you're ready. Right now your thinking is clouded by this other man, these other men who came before. You still think you serve them. You're WRONG. They're not here, boy. I am. You answer to ME now. Me, and me only. Do you understand?"
"... Yes ... sir."
"Go to the kitchen. A meal is waiting for you there."
Cock still throbbing, Bruce walked the familiar path to the kitchen. He surveyed the counter and found nothing. The table nearby was empty as well. At last he cast his eyes downward and found a plate of food on the floor. The plate itself was china of the highest caliber. There were no serving utensils in sight.
"Eat it," Gustavus said. The Master seated himself at the table and watched as millionaire Bruce Wayne lowered himself to the floor and picked up the food with his bare hands.
"Good boy," he said when Wayne was done. "Good boy."