She just laughed, though. “We can, with extreme provocation, be reasonable. Right now, however, I don’t want to be.”
She didn’t want to be reasonable. That could be bad. “No?”
“No.” She scooted back up my legs until she was pressed against me, my erection trapped between us. “Reasonable would probably involve getting to know you better before we went forward with sex.”
“And you don’t want to know me?” I think I was joking, but I can’t swear to it.
“I do want to know you. I just don’t want to wait any longer.”
“Is it my animal magnetism, or are you just really, really horny?” Why do I ask such stupid things? I was feeling a little uncomfortable, and not just physically. I’d never had a woman this direct about wanting to jump my bones before.
“Yes.” She leaned in and kissed me again. I could really get on board with this. I could. If only my brain would shut up.
“You bought me.”
“I did. Well, technically… yes, I bought you.”
“To have sex with.”
“Among other things, yes.” She kissed a line from my earlobe down my neck to my shoulder, every kiss sending little shocks through me. Except where she had to skip over the collar.
“So I’m your whore, bought and paid for. Your Kept Boy.”
She could hear it in my voice, I’m sure. She pulled back. “You’d rather not do this right now.”
“I’d rather not be a whore. A possession.” I think I sighed. I know my hands lingered on her back for a while. “I would really, really like to have sex with you, Keva. A lot. Over and over again. And I’m sure we will. But I was scrubbing floors this morning. I don’t think my pride can handle being a whore this evening.”
Do you know how rare it is for a man to say no to a Californian royal woman? It had happened once in my life to that date, and he’d turned out to belong to my older cousin.
It occurred to me to be offended. It occurred to me to yell at him, or to tell him that saying no wasn’t an option. No real slave would say no to their mistress, after all.
What I actually said was “I can respect that,” because I could. He wasn’t, after all, a “real slave,” not in his mind, not yet. And he was being very polite about the whole thing.
“Yeah?” He sighed, his hands still roaming up and down my back. “Are you sure?”
“I can’t say I’m not frustrated.” If I was a bitchier woman, I’ve have put my hand between my legs and gotten myself off right there in front of him. But I didn’t know a man that wouldn’t upset. “But I’d rather have things good between us, I guess.”
“Even though you were just saying you’d rather fuck than get to know me?”
“Even though.” I scooted back so that I was sitting on a ledge in the tub instead of on his lap. It gave me enough distance to get some self-control. “I don’t have any wish or reason to upset you, Patrick.”
“You know, if you got angry, you’d be easier to hate,” he complained. His eyes seemed to be fixed on my collar bone. I could have slid under the water to make it easier on him, but that would have put my eye level somewhere around his stomach. I’d rather be looking at his face.
“That’s the point, yes.” I smiled at him and hoped he’d smile back. I got a sort of half-twist of his lips in response. I guess it was a start.
“I’m not going to like being a slave.”
“I’m not asking you to. I’m just asking you to get along with me.”
“And obey you. And serve you. And be your possession.”
“Well, yes. But mostly the first one.”
“It’s a lot easier to get along with a pretty girl than it is to bow down and serve one.”
“I’m sorry.” On some level I was. “But I think we’ll manage to work it out.”
“You have a lot of faith in yourself.”
“At least half of that is faith in your sense of self-preservation.” I stood up. If I didn’t get out of the tub, I was going to have a hard time not pushing things. “Enjoy your bath. When you’re done, you know where your room is.”
“No.” To my surprise, I wasn’t. “I’m respecting your desire not to have sex with me tonight.”
“When you put it like that…”
He was smiling. Good. I smiled back at him. “Have a good night, Patrick. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Enjoy yourself… Keva.”
All right, I’ve done brighter things. But she wasn’t mad at me, and she wasn’t punishing me. That went a long way towards making me feel better about myself.
The next couple days were… weird. Being angry and rebellious had been easier. At least then, we both knew what we were doing.
Now… well, she might have had a clue, but I really wasn’t sure. I didn’t even really know what she wanted from me. So I let her show me around the house – mansion – compound – whatever, the parts I hadn’t seen and sometimes parts I’d washed. I didn’t rub it in too much that I’d washed that floor or scrubbed that tile; she seemed more pissed about the cleaning than I was, for one, and, for another, I didn’t really want to think about it.
After two days of this dance, she started calling in [babyslave] and having me run errands with her.
“You’re serious. You want me to run around with a toddler. Should I carry her?”
That got me a kick in the shins. “I’m not a toddler. Your ladyship, you want me to run around with this lunk? Should I carry him?”
“Nobody’s carrying anyone. Patrick, you could learn a lot from [babyslave.] [Babyslave.], you can think of him as extra muscle for the harder errands. But I want you to help him understand how things work around here.”
“Did I piss you off again… your ladyship? I mean, I could go back to cleaning floors if you want…” Words can not express how desperately I wanted that to not be the case, and how shitty that made me feel. I might have kissed her feet to avoid being sent off to wash floors again. In front of the kid, no less.
“What I want is for you to run some errands. Follow along with her – and learn.”
I wasn’t relieved enough to not complain a little. “So I get to be your fetch-and-carry boy now?”
“No.” Now she really was getting snappish, and I realized, kinda belatedly, that the kid counted as an audience. “I want you to be her fetch-and-carry boy.”
I didn’t think I could salvage this, but I could try. “As you with, your Ladyship.” I tried for a little bow and, at the very least, didn’t massacre the idea. “For how long?”
She either thought my bow was ridiculous or wasn’t too angry with me. I’m not sure which. Either way, though, she was smiling again. “For the next week. Come back here by dinner time tonight.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I did my best to make it not come across sarcastic, and I think I mostly managed, because she kissed me before she sent me on my way.
“You like her.” [Babyslave] waited until we were out of the room and into one of the back halls to comment on my love life, or whatever it was. She looked like she approved.
“Well… uh. She and you are the only people that haven’t been total jerks to me here. Well, and Cass.”
“It’s not like it’s something to be embarrassed of. You got a good mistress. That’s a good thing.” She turned and grinned up at me. “A lucky thing.”
“I’m still a slave.” I tugged uncomfortably at the damn collar. A good mistress wasn’t how I’d been thinking of Keva, not really. “I should be trying to escape.”
“So you can get beat again? That’s stupid.”
“So I can go home.”
She shook her head at me. “Americans.” It sounded like an insult. “You can’t go home. Enjoy being here.”
I wasn’t going to yell at her; she barely came up to my waist. Maybe Keva knew that. “Well… K… Lady Keva is nice, I guess. And you’re fun. What kind of errands are we running?”
“I don’t know yet. We need to go find [Chatelaine], the Chatelaine.”
“What’s that? It sounds like some sort of dessert.”
“Don’t let her hear you say that.” She was giggling, so it can’t have been too bad.
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