bed.
The shower was my refuge, my sanctuary. I let the water fall over me and wash the tension from my body. In here, there was no Brianna, no broken woman whose life and well-being were solely in my hands. Just me.
After drying off and getting dressed, I stepped out into the main room. As soon as I opened my door, the most wonderful smell hit my senses. Waffles.
Looking into the kitchen, I was struck by the sight of Brianna standing with her back to me pouring batter into a waffle iron. Apparently, I owned one. Her moves were flawless, almost like a dance as she reached for the things she desired. She was obviously at home in the kitchen, and from the smell of things, could cook wonderfully.
I walked toward her and managed to make it over halfway before she noticed me. Her reaction was such that she almost dropped the plate full of waffles she held. She met my eyes only briefly before her gaze lowered to the floor.
Continuing to close the distance between us, I walked to the refrigerator. She remained where she was, holding the food. I figured instead of telling her to take the food over to the table I’d go with a less direct approach. Opening the refrigerator door, I reached inside for the milk. “Would you prefer milk or juice?”
There was only the slightest pause before she answered. “Milk, please.”
Closing the door and tucking the milk under one arm, I went around her to grab some glasses. By the time I turned back around, she was at the table sitting with her hands in her lap. I smiled.
Breakfast was absolutely divine. The waffles were perfect, and she’d even made syrup from scratch. Saying she could cook was an understatement.
After four waffles, I laid my fork down. I just couldn’t eat any more. “Those were delicious, Brianna. Thank-you.”
I saw her eyes widen in surprise at my praise, then a soft, “You’re welcome, Master.”
Watching her as she continued to eat, I asked, “Do you enjoy cooking?” She nodded. “Would you like to be in charge of our evening meals, then?”
Her eyes widened further, but she pressed her lips together again and nodded. She was keeping something from me. “What is it?”
She remained silent.
“Brianna,” I said with a hint of my impatience.
Brianna began to raise her head and then stopped. “Does that mean . . . you’re going to keep me?”
Keep her? What was she . . . ?
She thought I was going to give her back. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t get it right away. It wasn’t the first time she’d thought I would send her back. At that moment, I noticed her hand cupping her neck as though she was missing something. Her collar. That was the reason she kept thinking I wasn’t sure I wanted to keep her; I hadn’t collared her.
I had no doubt Ian had put that symbol of possession on her within the first hour, probably the first five minutes she was given to him. Here I had been agonizing over how to handle her emotional well-being, how to make her feel safe, when the one thing I could give her, I had not.
Pushing back from the table, I moved to stand behind her. Leaning down, I put my mouth to her ear. She held herself rigid. Waiting. “Yes,” I whispered.
A shiver ran through her body but for once, I wasn’t sure it was out of pure fear.
Reaching over her shoulder, I picked up my plate and stood once again to my full height. “I’m going out for a while,” I said as I walked into the kitchen. “Don’t worry about lunch, I’ll bring something back.”
She was still at the table when I walked out the door. I still had a few qualms about what I was about to do, but if this would give her security, I would do it.
I took my car and drove across town, still pondering what lie ahead. Brianna was nothing like the two submissives I’d collared previously, but she needed me like neither of them ever had. This was a huge step, one that meant more, at least to me, than the act of buying her. Before, I had felt an obligation to care for her
The shower was my refuge, my sanctuary. I let the water fall over me and wash the tension from my body. In here, there was no Brianna, no broken woman whose life and well-being were solely in my hands. Just me.
After drying off and getting dressed, I stepped out into the main room. As soon as I opened my door, the most wonderful smell hit my senses. Waffles.
Looking into the kitchen, I was struck by the sight of Brianna standing with her back to me pouring batter into a waffle iron. Apparently, I owned one. Her moves were flawless, almost like a dance as she reached for the things she desired. She was obviously at home in the kitchen, and from the smell of things, could cook wonderfully.
I walked toward her and managed to make it over halfway before she noticed me. Her reaction was such that she almost dropped the plate full of waffles she held. She met my eyes only briefly before her gaze lowered to the floor.
Continuing to close the distance between us, I walked to the refrigerator. She remained where she was, holding the food. I figured instead of telling her to take the food over to the table I’d go with a less direct approach. Opening the refrigerator door, I reached inside for the milk. “Would you prefer milk or juice?”
There was only the slightest pause before she answered. “Milk, please.”
Closing the door and tucking the milk under one arm, I went around her to grab some glasses. By the time I turned back around, she was at the table sitting with her hands in her lap. I smiled.
Breakfast was absolutely divine. The waffles were perfect, and she’d even made syrup from scratch. Saying she could cook was an understatement.
After four waffles, I laid my fork down. I just couldn’t eat any more. “Those were delicious, Brianna. Thank-you.”
I saw her eyes widen in surprise at my praise, then a soft, “You’re welcome, Master.”
Watching her as she continued to eat, I asked, “Do you enjoy cooking?” She nodded. “Would you like to be in charge of our evening meals, then?”
Her eyes widened further, but she pressed her lips together again and nodded. She was keeping something from me. “What is it?”
She remained silent.
“Brianna,” I said with a hint of my impatience.
Brianna began to raise her head and then stopped. “Does that mean . . . you’re going to keep me?”
Keep her? What was she . . . ?
She thought I was going to give her back. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t get it right away. It wasn’t the first time she’d thought I would send her back. At that moment, I noticed her hand cupping her neck as though she was missing something. Her collar. That was the reason she kept thinking I wasn’t sure I wanted to keep her; I hadn’t collared her.
I had no doubt Ian had put that symbol of possession on her within the first hour, probably the first five minutes she was given to him. Here I had been agonizing over how to handle her emotional well-being, how to make her feel safe, when the one thing I could give her, I had not.
Pushing back from the table, I moved to stand behind her. Leaning down, I put my mouth to her ear. She held herself rigid. Waiting. “Yes,” I whispered.
A shiver ran through her body but for once, I wasn’t sure it was out of pure fear.
Reaching over her shoulder, I picked up my plate and stood once again to my full height. “I’m going out for a while,” I said as I walked into the kitchen. “Don’t worry about lunch, I’ll bring something back.”
She was still at the table when I walked out the door. I still had a few qualms about what I was about to do, but if this would give her security, I would do it.
I took my car and drove across town, still pondering what lie ahead. Brianna was nothing like the two submissives I’d collared previously, but she needed me like neither of them ever had. This was a huge step, one that meant more, at least to me, than the act of buying her. Before, I had felt an obligation to care for her
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