“No, you’ll start tomorrow,” she said, pulling me closer to her by my loosened tie.
“Tonight, you rest. Come now, Pet,” she continued.
I was caught off guard, and immediately my mind was pulled from all thoughts of my magic, as she turned and tugged me behind her, using my tie like a leash. My cheeks instantly burned at how degrading the act was. Every time she chose to treat me like an actual pet, I was simultaneously surprised, and I foundmyself slipping into a sort of state of feeling that was not at all unpleasant. It happened so quickly, I couldn’t stop it if I tried. I was sure Selene knew of it—knew what she did to me.
“Selene, please,” I whispered as we neared the end of the staircase down from my rooftop garden. I knew whoever was on guard outside our quarters would see me being led like an animal in such a way, and just the thought filled me with nauseating embarrassment.
“Hmm?” Selene hummed.
“The guard,” I whispered, the prospect of the embarrassment lowering my voice, as if speaking it aloud was embarrassing in itself.
“What of him?” she asked as she pushed open the door and led me out into the corridor.
It was too late. My cheeks grew somehow hotter, and I lost the ability to speak, to form the words of my protest, as I walked as quietly and small as I could behind my Mistress and kept my eyes trained on my feet. I would not risk making eye contact with whoever was on duty guarding our home that night which would cement the embarrassment I would feel every time I saw them from that point on. I saw the guard's boots come into view, the door being pushed and held open for us. Selene did not release her hold on my tie until the door was closed behind us.
“What now?” I asked expectantly when she did nothing more than release me. I felt small compared to her, smaller than my actual stature. Waiting for her command. It was calming, in a way, even if the humiliation had been all-consuming only moments before. Now there was only Selene, my Mistress, my Princess, my soul match. Only what she wanted of me.
“Now,” she said as she walked behind me and helped me out of my puffy jacket and then blazer, her hands rubbing my shoulders through my shirt soothingly.
“Take your boots off,” she commanded as she released my shoulders to hang up the jacket and blazer on the coat stand by the door. I immediately moved to kick off my boots but stopped when she tutted disapprovingly and I knelt down to untie the laces instead.
“That’s better,” she praised as she walked into my line of sight while I switched knees to remove the last boot and chose to stay on my knees. It felt right in the moment, with my boots placed neatly to the side of me. She had removed her own blazer and tie and began to undo the buttons on her shirt to midway, until her bra and chest were visible.
“Is it warm enough in here, pet?” she asked.
“Yes, Ma’am,” I answered, on my knees, anticipation growing within me, my stomach muscles tightening. I hoped that Selene would indulge the feeling building within me, the desire to be hers—to know it physically, viscerally.
“You will tell me, won’t you, if it becomes cold? The weather is changing fast this year. The autumn term is not yet complete, but winter has already begun,” she said as she walked to the kitchen.
I watched her. I watched as she kicked off her own shoes, opened a cabinet, and selected a glass. I watched as she opened the fridge, took out a red berry smoothie—thick and reminiscent of her blood bags—and poured a glass. I watched as she returned and sat down on the sofa. And then she watched me, never breaking eye contact as she took a sip of the smoothie, her lips over the edge of the glass, her fangs momentarily visible as she commented, “Sweet.”
“Not as sweet as me,” I stated confidently, boastfully, on my knees, waiting impatiently. I was rewarded with a smirk and a flash of glowing silver. The approval, subtle as it was, caused a rush of arousal within me, my abdomen clenching in response.
“No, not as sweet as you,” she agreed and set the glass on the end table beside the sofa.
She uncrossed her legs at the knee and parted them, leaving enough space for me to fill.
“Come,” she commanded.
I began to stand.
“No, Pet. Crawl,” she instructed.
I hesitated—not out of defiance but out of self-consciousness, a sudden worry that I would look ridiculous.
“Is there a reason you’re keeping me waiting?” she asked, and it pushed me into motion.
Leaning forward and placing my hands on the floor, I crawled to her. As degrading as the act should have been, there was something undeniably empowering as I looked to my Mistress, knowing I was the cause of the way her eyes brightened and how she unconsciously bit her lower lip as I made my way between her legs. I sat back on my heels, my palms on my thighs, my heart thundering inside my chest, and waited.
“Such a good girl, hmm?” she praised, reaching out and delicately running the back of her fingers against my cheek. I closed my eyes and tried to lean into her touch, but it was quickly gone, and I was disappointed at the loss. I opened my eyes as she laughed.
“Don’t pout, darling. Are you thirsty?” she asked.
“Thirsty for you,” I quipped, smiling at my own joke.
She raised an eyebrow—I wasn’t sure if it was in shared amusement or if she was questioning whether I was going to behave or not.
“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied, erring on the side of cautious.
