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Since it seems to be late morning, I prepare a brunch for my new Masters. I make omelets with sliced and sautéed mushrooms and cheese, topped with some finely chopped chives, then prepare breakfast potatoes and thick slices of bacon, and a bowl of fresh strawberries.
As I slice the berries I can’t help but hear them.
“Why do you think you’re having the dreams again, Sev?” Master Erek asks, his tone so gentle it makes me shiver with desire and some emotion I can’t identify.
“No idea.” Master Séverin is short and sharp, as always.
Interesting that he speaks even to his lover this way. But that’s me thinking again. About things I shouldn’t even ponder, but I am too much inside my head.
“Do you think it’s…?”
“No. Fuck, no. With a woman? No.”
“I’m sorry, my love,” Master Erek says, apologizing without being humble, which is not something I’ve ever really heard from one of the Masters before. Or anyone.
“It’s nothing,” Master Séverin replies, a bit softer this time. “You worry too much.”
They’re silent after that, and when the food is done I crawl to the front door and onto the porch, my head bowed, to let them know the meal is ready. They follow me back into the house, with me still on hands and knees. I have set the dining table for two, and uncertainly, because it was not made clear, I’ve set my own plate on the kitchen floor next to a bowl of water.
Master Erek pats me on the head. “Good Girl.”
I’ve eaten on the floor before, of course, and since I had the opportunity to set my own place, such as it is, I took the liberty of setting a paper towel next to the plate so I can wipe my face. It seems an absolute luxury in the presence of my Masters, and one that is often forbidden, but either they don’t notice or they don’t care.
It’s quiet once more as they eat, as I eat, taking tiny mouthfuls of the omelet and some berries, chewing slowly, but not so slowly that I won’t be immediately available for service, whether it’s to serve more food or to be ruined all over again. And even as sore as I am, inside and out, I wish for them to hurt me again. It’s often the only way I know I have pleased my Masters and Mistresses, and it’s what I crave most. What I need.
I take a long drink of water from the bowl as Master Séverin stands and tosses his cloth napkin on the table, then Master Erek stands, as well.
He points to the sink. “Clean,” he commands.
And why does my little warm, softly beating slave heart swell at this simple order? There’s something about the domesticity of it, perhaps.
But then, again, I think too much.
I bow my head and wait for them to leave the room before gathering everything from the table and my spot on the floor, then stand at the sink to wash the dishes. As I dry my hands I inhale, taking in the scent of the dense woods outside. The green of the trees and the shrubs. That scent of earth and morning dew that’s probably long since dried in the sunlight, and yet it’s a part of the dirt itself now.
Master Erek comes into the kitchen and I sink to my knees as gracefully as I can. My heart is a hammer in my chest as I wait to be berated, punished. But instead he comes up behind me and grabs a fistful of my long hair, and winding it around his wrist, yanks me to my feet. He leans in and inhales, his face buried in my hair, and then nuzzles the back of my neck, and I swear if he weren’t holding me so firmly I might actually swoon at his feet. He is close enough that I can breathe him in, and it’s that clean, fresh scent mixed with something dark—as dark as his dominance is, I suspect. It’s like a hint of deep musk and cedar, perhaps. My mouth waters.
But I don’t have long to get used to this tender touch before he sinks his teeth into my shoulder, and I have to suck in air between my own teeth with a hiss.
“Ah, it hurts, does it, my little beauty? Yes. I plan to eat you up, one bite at a time.” He pauses to laugh, a low amused chuckle. “Did I scare you, darling? I didn’t even mean to. What a lovely surprise.” His tone drops even lower. “I like to scare my slaves. You have no idea how much I love the way your muscles are tensing even now, with nothing more than a simple threat. Ah, don’t worry, Girl. I will bite you, over and over. I’ll draw your blood, smile at your tears. And Master Séverin will be there to watch it all. To do whatever terrible things to you he comes up with. And trust me, darling, he is much scarier than I could ever hope to be.”
I know I’m shivering all over at his words with a mixture of heady desire and stark fear, and I love it all.
Master Séverin clears his throat behind us, and Master Erek turns, still holding my hair in his fist.
“Why is she on her feet?” Master Séverin demands.
Master Erek only gives a low chuckle.
In two long strides he is next to me, and Master Erek releases my hair as Master Séverin clamps a hard hand on the back of my neck. He squeezes, harder and harder as he forces me to my knees, and when they hit the wood floor he slaps me hard across one cheek, then the other. I can feel his handprints as if they’ve been burned into my skin—his handprints and the heat of my shame. It doesn’t matter that my other Master is the one who pulled me to my feet. Those details never matter. To them, or to me.
Master Erek chuckles once more as Master Séverin shoves me face-down on the floor.
“You are to stay there until one of us releases you,” he tells me before they both leave the room.
The floor is hard beneath my cheek and smells faintly of wood polish. That scent is to be my only company for some time, other than a small spider I see scurrying along the baseboard.
As it turns out I am left there for quite a long while, my bladder aching and full. Plenty of time to think of my actions, my inactions. My deep, driving yearning to do better for them, these two cruel and lovely Masters whose expectations of me I haven’t been able to get a hold on yet.
