What really captures my attention though is the wall of windows that looks out on an outdoor living space, a swimming pool that makes my mouth water, and lush green grass beyond. Everything is perfectly manicured. It’s like a display home.
I jerk my attention to Master Kellen as I approach, feeling his gaze on me.
He looks stern. “You’re late.”
“I hurried as fast as I could.”
“Not fast enough. And mind your manners. I warned you to address me properly.”
I take a deep breath as I step onto the tile, glancing down at my feet. My shoes remind me I’m in my little space. “I’m sorry, Sir.” Something about this dress and these shoes make me feel every bit as precocious as I was at six. I consider sticking my tongue out at him.
Several seconds pass. I’m aware of Master Kellen three feet in front of me, but he says nothing. Eventually, I realize I’m going to have to lift my gaze.
He’s staring at my dress.
Right. Shit. My bra. That would be the first thing he notices.
“What did I tell you to wear, Sabine?”
I swallow at his tone. I knew this was going to be a thing, but I’m nervous now that I’m about to make my argument. Nevertheless, I straighten my spine and meet his gaze. “I’ve never gone without a bra. It felt weird.”
Master Kellen closes the distance. Before I have a chance to process his actions, he lifts the hem of my dress over my head and sets it on the island. Two seconds later, he unhooks my bra and sets it on top of my dress.
I shudder, forcing myself not to cover my breasts. When he said he intended to see every inch of me before the end of the day, I hadn’t expected that to be before lunch, but I did this to myself. I’m not about to whine and complain and appear weak the moment this roleplaying begins. Maybe a part of me even expected this reaction from him.
Master Kellen lifts my chin with two fingers. “Do you feel weird now?”
“Yes, Sir,” I whisper. Heat rises up my chest and neck. I’m sure I’m covered with red splotches. I close my eyes, not wanting to see what my skin is giving away. I’m unnerved. My nipples are hard again from the air. From the nudity. From the exposure. From arousal.
When Master Kellen releases my chin, he pulls a bar stool out from the island. I gasp when his hands come to my waist and he lifts me off the floor and turns to set me on the stool.
No. Not the stool. Something else. Something pink and plastic. A booster seat. The kind a toddler would use. It even has a raised section in the center that is forcing my thighs apart.
I shiver as I give up the battle and cross my arms over my chest.
Master Kellen pushes me up to the island, leaving me at the perfect height. I realize that without the booster seat I would not be sitting high enough to reach. Either the stools are intentionally too short or I’m seriously smaller than I thought.
Master Kellen swipes my dress and bra off the island and leaves the room through a door next to the refrigerator. A mudroom maybe. He’s back before I can breathe, and he sets a plate in front of me. It’s pink plastic with compartments. In one is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich cut into triangles. In the second one is apple slices. In the last one is baby carrots.
“Master Julius told me you don’t have any allergies. Is that correct?”
I nod, my gaze on the plate.
“Sabine?”
I lift my head.
“Use your words to answer me.”
I swallow. “No, Sir. I’m not allergic to anything.”
“Good girl. Eat your lunch, then we’ll discuss your tardiness and disobedience.” He sets a plastic cup filled with milk on the table as he speaks.
I can’t move. I’m still cupping my breasts. He told me he would be strict, but I wasn’t expecting this. Or maybe I’m kidding myself.
“I’ve seen breasts before, Sabine,” he warns me in a stern voice. “If you would have done as you were told, you would be wearing the dress I chose for you right now. Lower your hands and eat.”
I’m shaking as I drop my hands to the table. Goosebumps rise all over my skin. My nipples are stiff points, demanding attention. I have the urge to rub them when he’s not looking. Will he have a rule against me touching myself? I only have one little to compare anything too. Lucy. Master Roman doesn’t allow her to masturbate or even squirm. She has told me that sometimes when she fidgets too much from arousal, Master Roman puts a stimulant on her nipples to exacerbate the problem.
My nipples are so needy right now that I’m about to grab them and squeeze them just to get relief.
“Is something wrong with your food?”
I flinch and shake my head. “No, Sir.”
He’s leaning one hip against the island now, drinking a glass of iced tea. When he pulls out the stool adjacent to mine and sits, I notice he has a plate of food, too. It looks nothing like mine. He has a large sandwich of various lunch meats and cheeses. Chips. A soda.
Butterflies are jumping around in my stomach. I’m worried I won’t be able to eat. I’m also feeling a combination of defiance and contriteness for my part in the fact that I am sitting here in lime green panties and toddler shoes and socks.
“Sit up straighter, Sabine. Good posture is important.”
I swallow as I straighten my spine. What I want to do is cross my arms and glare at him, dare him to order me around. It’s what I would have done as a child. Mostly to my nannies. My own father wouldn’t have bothered to
