me that he wants me to wear this every morning, so I can be accessible to him whenever he pleases. I shiver as I remember his words. I want your pussy available to me at all times.
“Good.” A twinge of happiness goes through me as he turns away and goes back over to the stove to operate the skillets he has going. I didn’t imagine it’d be this easy to please him. I pick at the hem of the robe, and take a small sip of delicious hot coffee. I had no fucking idea what I was getting into.
I take solace in staring at his back, admiring each ridge of his muscles, the outline of his muscular physique, the crack of his chiseled ass. The small dimples on his lower back that my fingers itch to touch. I still can’t get over the fact that he’s making breakfast for me and serving me coffee. I should be serving him like the Slave I’m supposed to be. My last Master never did anything like this for me, never even cared if I ate at all. This relationship isn’t like what I thought it would be at all, and I have to keep reminding myself that Isaac is my Master. In this moment it doesn’t quite feel that he is. But I suppose even pampered pets have Masters.
I watch the muscles in his back contract with each movement as he deftly turns over bacon, scrambles eggs and flips pancakes in the skillets. I sit back against the cushioned seat, my mind turning to the previous night. What he told me. God, my heart hurts for him.
How could I not have realized? I was so concerned with fixing myself, and facing my own past that I never once stopped to think that Isaac might be hurting, too. That he might need help just as much as I do. I felt terrible when he held me so early this morning, comforting me, trying to make me forget about my night terrors, when it's clear he needs to forget, too. When he told me about his mother, it all clicked. He’s had a darkness around him from the moment I met him, a sadness that I missed because I was too self-absorbed with my own issues.
Absentmindedly, I bring my cup of coffee to my lips and take a sip, enjoying the rich taste.
“Today you can go to work,” Isaac says, pulling me into the present and drawing my eyes back to him, “but the rest of the week, you’ll have someone cover for you. I’ve taken some time off for your training,” he finishes, as he piles several pancakes into a neat stack on a large plate.
I part my lips to object, but then close them. My dogs are my everything, and I would hate to upset their routine they’ve become accustomed to. And dogs are nothing if not sensitive to routine. If I don’t come in for several days in a row, I know more than a few of them will get worried; we’re a pack, I’m supposed to be there. It distresses me to think that I could upset them by obeying Isaac’s demands, but I signed a contract. I have to obey his rules. He owns me. “Yes, Master,” I reply dutifully, hoping he doesn’t notice my hesitation and praying that my dogs will forgive me.
If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. “Good,” Isaac says, half-turning to me as he continues to scramble eggs.
I have enough help to take over what I do in person.
“Master?” I ask.
“Yes?”
“May I do some of the administration work on my laptop from here?”
“Yes, when you have a moment, you may.”
“Thank you, Master.”
Well at least that won’t cause any problems with my work. It’s easy enough to handle. My laptop is still open on the counter. Isaac wanted me to go about my morning routine. Which means coffee and checking my messages. It makes me feel uneasy to be on my support group with him in the room, but at the same time I can see that he should know. Kiersten had sent me a slew of messages last night that I wasn’t able to answer until early this morning. I’d told her all about my contract with Isaac and she wanted to know all the details of my relationship. I pull the laptop into my lap and click the spacebar until it’s awake again.
I open to screen to find that Kiersten is already online and has