*Warning: The hardest lessons to learn are the ones that shape your character. If I could go back and be a better submissive, I would. I humbly apologize, Master. Please don’t let them take me away.
Master wants me in black leather tonight. He says I look like an angel in my corset with my breasts spilling out.
But I mustn’t spill out, he says. I must be demure at all times while serving his friends. I must remember my place.
After I take a bath in scented oil I take a long time to groom. Hot pink toenails and fingernails—Master’s favorite. He says he likes how my fingers look wrapped around his cock.
I smooth vanilla lotion all over my body, focusing on massaging into the special creases that will delight Master most. Some submissives aren’t as careful to please their Masters as I am. We’ve been together only six months, but he knows me. And I know him.
I know he loves to nuzzle the arches of my feet, so I spend a lot of time rubbing lotion there. By the time I’m finished, I’m as soft as a baby. When I look in the mirror, I’m glowing pink from the heat of the water and massage.
Throwing a look at the clock on the nightstand, I realize the stirrings I hear in the rest of the house are the caterers carting in food. I must hurry.
Drying my hair takes forever. It’s not very long—only to the middle of my back—but it’s thick. But I can’t take shortcuts, not tonight. I’m going to make Master proud. After all, this party is to show me off.
As I slip into my garter belt and stockings, and then add my thong panties over the top, I keep an ear on the activity beyond the bedroom. Master had insisted on dressing himself, though he let me groom him last night. Just thinking about serving him has me aching. My nipples are so hard that it almost hurts to lock them inside my new leather corset.
Master likes to look good. First he had me trim his hair. It’s actually how we met. He came into Barber Brothers every week just to get a few stray hairs trimmed. I liked running my hands through his hair. Sometimes he let me wash it. Those were the most decadent moments, lathering his scalp and watching his eyes close in pleasure.
One day he’d caught my hand and brought it to his lips. I was mesmerized, watching his beautiful mouth so close to my knuckles. That’s when he asked me out. Only when I gave my breathless “yes” did he skim my knuckles with his lips.
It was the moment I realized that when Master asks for something, he wants it now. He wouldn’t let me finish my shift at Barber Brothers. He spoke with my boss for a minute and then beckoned me with a flick of his fingers. I’d been wet just walking across the barber shop to meet him.
I was wet facing the mirror now. Sliding my hands over my torso, I tried to see myself through Master’s eyes. Always. He was my one and only concern in the universe. He was my only job now, and I adored it.
I touched a fingertip to the simple silver choker I wore. A heart hung in the hollow of my throat, bearing Master’s name. Jackson. My Jackson.
The door opened, and I turned to see him in full glory. Black pants, fitted to his long muscled legs. A white shirt unbuttoned at the throat and rolled to the elbows. But what caught my gaze and held it was the shining leather belt around his trim middle. I could nearly taste the leather as well as hear it meeting my skin.
I shivered, and Master smiled. In a few strides he crossed the room to me. “You look beautiful, Livvy.” When he used my name instead of “slave” or “slut,” it felt extra-special. He tilted my chin up using a rough knuckle underneath, and I quivered even as I kept my eyes lowered as he wished.
“Thank you, Master.”
He pressed a kiss between my brows. “You’ll make me proud. Now come on. The guests are arriving.”