When he’s done, he pauses, cupping my breasts and flicking his thumbs over my stiff buds. “I like how I can see your nipples through this material. They’re hard points. Does that mean you’re not opposed to this age trial?”
“I’m not sure yet, Sir,” I murmur, trying not to moan.
He tweaks my nipples and then scoots my chair up to the island.
I fidget while I wait for him to serve me. I’m flustered and aroused from his touch, craving more of it. My weird panties are wet from arousal, and every time I move, I’m aware of the strap between my legs, pulled snug against my pussy. It’s intentional. It’s working.
Master Kellen finally sets a plate in front of me. It’s plastic and sectioned. Each compartment has a portion of different food, and all of it is cut up into small pieces. He hasn’t given me a utensil.
I nervously reach for a bite of fried egg and then go for a piece of French toast. I’m hungry, and it’s weird eating such small bites. I have the urge to grab five at once but fear Master Kellen might reprimand me.
The last compartment has small pieces of banana. And of course, he gives me a sippy cup of milk. That doesn’t surprise me.
The man can cook, that I can attest to. And I cannot. Nor do I enjoy cooking. From that perspective, this arrangement is perfect.
After breakfast, Master Kellen takes me to his office and settles me at my table. “Journal first, then you can play.”
I pick up my pencil and open to the page I was on in my notebook, but before I start, I stare at Master Kellen for inspiration.
He glances at me and frowns. “Sabine…” he warns.
I realize something. I love that tone. I shouldn’t. It’s the one that foreshadows a probable spanking. It’s also the tone that tells me he is paying attention. That he means business. That I won’t get away with whatever I’m thinking. It’s a warning. I can choose to ignore it or heed it. Most days, I press my luck and end up over his lap, proving time and again that he won’t let me down.
Today, I jerk my attention to my journal and start writing. Today is not the day I want to feel his palm on my bottom. Today is the day I want to feel his cock inside me. I write because I have all these thoughts. They come easily.
I squirm as I remind myself of his tone, the one that makes my pussy wet and my nipples stiff. Even now, thinking of his reprimand makes me horny. The thick cotton of my panties is wet. I rock forward, trying to ease the pressure. If I squeeze my legs together, the thickness will rub against me better than regular thin panties. I know this, but I won’t risk it. Not today.
I spread my thighs to avoid excessive contact, wrapping my ankles around the legs of the chair. Every movement brings attention to my nipples because the flat front of my dress is rubbing against them.
I keep writing, inspiration striking me and keeping me occupied. I think about all the things Lucy has said to me over the past six weeks. The freedom she feels living under strict rules. Her statement seemed so incongruent to me at first, but now I get it.
I’ve relaxed since moving in with Master Kellen. I don’t have to worry about the world and what’s happening outside these walls. I don’t have to find a job and smile at strangers in an office every day. I don’t have to plan meals and shop and cook and clean.
Yes, I have chores. So far, they include making my bed and putting my clothes in the hamper. I’m supposed to brush my hair and arrange it in the morning. I also brush my teeth and wipe off my bathroom counter when I’m done. When I play in Master Kellen’s office or my room, I have to put my toys and books back on the shelves.
If I forget a chore, I’m rewarded with that tone from Master Kellen. “Sabine…” He often calls me baby girl or little one, but not when I’m in trouble. Then he uses my real name.
A shadow comes over me, and I lift my gaze to find Master Kellen next to me. He’s smiling. “You’ve been working furiously for a long time. You can take a break now, little one.”
I glance at my journal. I’ve written several pages without thinking about it.
“It’s almost time for lunch, and then you need a nap.”
I nod, biting into my lower lip to keep from complaining. I’m not fond of naptime, but I knew it would be coming at this age. I’m not surprised.
I pull out a puzzle and concentrate on assembling it to keep my mind occupied so I can avoid misbehaving.
Master Kellen’s face is dancing with mirth when he leads me to the kitchen, and then again during lunch. He’s pleased with me, and he knows I’m trying hard to be good.
When we get upstairs, he instructs me to use the potty and then pulls off my dress and shoes, leaving me in the training pants and my socks. He lifts me onto my bed and settles me on my back.
My legs lie awkwardly apart, and I suck in a gasp as Master Kellen strokes my breasts and teases my nipples. My eyes roll back when he drags a finger along the inner edge of my panties. When he flattens his palm against my sex, applying pressure to my clit, I dig my heels into the mattress and lift my bottom.
He dips a finger under the edge of my panties, finds my folds, and strokes through my wetness. “I think you like this
