“Here,” he says, before offering me a bite.
“Oh, I ate already,” I say.
“It would please me if you took the bite.”
I open my mouth without another thought and wrap my lips around the fork when he puts it in my mouth. His gaze stays on my mouth, eyes heated as he removes the fork.
I chew the meat that practically melts in my mouth.
We continue like this for the rest of the meal. He feeds me a bite every now and then—steak, roasted potatoes, carrots.
When he’s finished, he puts the silverware down and pushes the chair out.
“When I leave the room, you can bring this to the kitchen. There is no need to wash anything. Put the soiled dishes in the sink and the drinks back where they belong. Come to the sitting room when you’re finished.”
“Yes, sir,” I say as he gets up.
“Oh, I forgot to mention… when you’re here, call me Master.” His brow raises in question.
My dick twitches.
I am in so much trouble.
“Yes, Master,” I say, my voice raspy.
The word feels weird rolling off my tongue, but I’m sure like everything else, I’ll get used to it.
Maybe even start to like it.
The light is dim in the sitting room. Harmon is already comfortable on the couch, an electric fireplace going in the corner. I can’t tell if it’s actually giving off heat, or just the illusion of it, either way, it is warm in here and I am grateful for it considering I’m mostly naked.
I walk into the room, stopping in front of him.
“Kneel here.” He points to his left, in front of the end table, where there is a small, fluffy rug about the size of a welcome mat. I do as he says. “Good boy.”
I feel… not quite overwhelmed in the way that I want to stop but definitely worked up. I can’t tell if it’s anxiety or sexual tension, but it’s something. My heart is pounding pretty damn hard.
“When you meet me here, at any time, this is where you will go unless I say otherwise. Once we get more comfortable with one another, I’ll have you join me on the couch.”
I nod so he knows I understand and that I’m listening. He didn’t tell me that I couldn’t talk, but it doesn’t feel like I should, so I don’t.
“Will it be okay if I read to you for a little while?” he asks. His voice has taken on a calmer, relaxed, and almost sultry tone.
“Yes, Master,” I say, still having to force the word, but it’s easier than it was the first time.
He smiles, looking satisfied, and it makes me feel good.
I’m doing a good job.
He picks up a book from the end table, something old-looking and that I don’t recognize.
“I haven’t read this one in a while. We can start it together.” He glances at me, holding the book up for me to read the cover. “Have you read it?” I shake my head. “Saw the movie?”
“No, Master.”
He hums a sound of approval, then opens the book gently, and begins to read…
“Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen.”