There hadn’t been much fruit in the house, but yesterday we’d made a grocery order because Luke wanted me to have my favorite stuff around. It also helped with cooking whatever I wanted, having control over the groceries.
I carefully carried the glass toward my room, and then some part of my brain glitched and decided it would be a good idea to toss the apple up like a ball.
Two things happened simultaneously as soon as the apple left my hand: I yelped and quickly rebalanced my juice, and the apple hit the floor and rolled inside Luke’s bedroom through the open door.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid…,” I berated myself, and then felt like crap because I’d promised Luke I wouldn’t do that.
I let my shoulders slump before taking the glass onto my desk. I needed to save my apple, even though I didn’t really feel okay about going into Luke’s room without his explicit permission.
There weren’t house rules about that, mind you; he’d just said his place was mine while I was staying there, but still. It was his private space.
I pushed the door fully open and peered in. No sight of my apple. It must’ve rolled under the bed?
I knelt by the bed and smiled as I saw the errant fruit near enough that I didn’t have to crawl to get it. I grabbed it and then got up, wiping the thing on my shirt.
As I turned back toward the door, something caught my eye. There was a picture frame on top of Luke’s dresser.
The man had dark hair that curled around his ears and dark eyes that were deep brown, maybe. He had an olive complexion and a wide, white smile. I could feel the love pouring from his whole being toward the person who took the picture.
He was holding an ice cream cone that was melting a little. Somehow it made me smile. Then I noticed the plain dark ring on his ring finger. And after that, I realized that what I’d taken for a chunky necklace was actually a silvery chain with a lock hanging from it. A collar.
My brain started to whir. There wasn’t a ring on Luke’s finger, right? Nor were there any signs of another man living in this apartment. Was this beautiful man his ex? His ex-husband and ex-submissive?
I didn’t know how to approach the subject, so I tried to push it out of my mind for now.
Tomorrow would be the munch where I’d get to meet a lot of new people. That was exciting. Maybe there I could ask someone about the picture?
I left Luke’s room and went to my own. As I sat down at my desk and bit into the apple that I deemed clean enough, I smiled. I had a room. A cozy one at that. I took in the art on the walls and the view from the window. There was a tree and some grass on my side of the building. It wasn’t much, but it was green and pretty, and that was much more than the sad room at Master Carl’s place. That window had shown the side of his garage and it had been—I didn’t like to think about it. I’d felt despair in that room.
I chewed on my piece of apple as I tried to hold back the thought of how similar the feeling I’d gotten the longer I lived under Carl’s roof had been to the way I’d felt trapped in my childhood home.
With shaking hands, I grabbed my phone and texted Luke. “Sir, I called myself bad names.”
The response didn’t come immediately, but I wasn’t expecting one either. Not when I knew how much concentration his work needed.
I had just gotten on a roll with my own work as my phone beeped.
“We didn’t talk about punishments for obvious reasons, but that is one rule that I’m very strict about, Bear.”
I swallowed hard and watched as the dots indicated that he was typing another message.
“If you’re being mean to yourself even though I specifically told you that’s not allowed, you can go without any treats until Monday. That includes at the munch tomorrow and any dessert I was going to get for us for tonight.”
My heart sank. I felt bad. Sure, part of it was because I really wanted those treats. We’d talked about how the munches were filled with nice foods and that one of the submissives was a baker and she brought tons of cupcakes and I hadn’t had a cupcake in a very long time.
But more than that, I felt horrible, because I instantly realized that this meant Sir wouldn’t get his dessert, either. If he’d meant to get some for both of us and now I wouldn’t get any… well, I somehow knew that Sir wasn’t the kind of man who would get some for only himself.
Being mean to myself meant that Sir suffered now, too.
Blindly, I leaned to the side and grabbed Tonya and pulled her to my chest.
Then I typed with one hand. “I’m sorry, Sir.”
The reply came back instantly. “On Monday morning, it’s forgotten. I think this will help you remember to be kind to yourself.”
He was right. This wasn’t a lesson I would forget anytime soon.
I didn’t think I had a huge sweet tooth until treats weren’t an option. By Saturday morning, I was feeling fidgety and as if the bag of Skittles I’d bought with the latest groceries was mocking me from its spot on the kitchen counter. I hadn’t even opened it, but now I wanted nothing more.
