Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 106065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
At the same time, it was important I kept my departure date in mind. I wasn’t staying permanently. They were generously allowing me to recover here for a few days, and I could sink into Little mode if I became too overwhelmed and whatever. It was plenty. It was more than I would ask for.
“I’m not going to care what Marcus might think this week,” I decided. “Worrying about him will just drag me back down and make me feel guilty.”
“I think that’s a good decision,” he replied. “The way I see it, you have to focus on yourself and get to know the boy you want to be, the one you used to be, and the boy you are.”
Exactly.
I chewed on my lip and glanced at him. “Marcus and I will break up, won’t we?”
His expression turned gentle, and he gathered my hand in both of his and held it on his leg. “I think you know the answer to that already.”
Yeah.
I wasn’t happy. I didn’t like feeling bad.
I dropped my gaze again and sighed against Chuck’s soft head. “I feel so betrayed. Not just by him, but myself. I’m supposed to know myself better.”
Sloan hummed and kissed the top of my hand. “I know I promised to be as neutral as possible, but I can’t stay quiet all the time. Emotional abuse is such a heartbreaking crime, Corey. The way you doubt yourself at every turn is his doing, and I want to—” He drew a breath and cut himself off with a shake of his head. “Rat fucking bastard deserves a shovel to his face before being strung up by his balls.”
I pinched my lips together to keep from making a sound. It was a mindfuck to hear Sloan and Greer say vicious things about the man I’d spent more than two years with. A tiny voice in my head wanted them to shut the hell up, ’cause they were being so mean. The rest of me, however… All the other voices in my head—they were giggling and finding freedom in being saved and defended.
“Don’t hold back,” I joked.
He smirked wryly. “I have to.” Then he released my hand and poked my nose, and I laughed. “Back to the rules, little one. What kind of chores and responsibilities would you be comfortable with? You’ll have to decide if that’s something you want in general while you’re with us, or if it’s reserved for your Little space.”
“While I’m here,” I said right away. “I don’t know. I can walk the doggies? Do the dishes and stuff?”
He smiled softly. “Do you enjoy domestic servitude?”
I wasn’t sure… “What is it, exactly?” I had to ask.
“I’m sure people define it differently all over, but for Archer, for example, it means running the household. He’s in charge of cooking, cleaning, washing… Inventory of the pantry, tidying up, ironing our shirts… He finds his pleasure in making Greer and me feel like kings around the house.”
Damn. “I bet he’s good at it.”
“A little too good,” he chuckled. “He’s amazing.”
“So does he have a job?”
“Not anymore.” He quirked half a grin. “Greer and Archer went balls to the wall with their dynamic. It all happened so fast, and they’re already immersed in a lifestyle of domestic servitude and high-protocol.”
Oh wow. “That means Archie’s a consensual slave to Greer?”
“That’s exactly what it means.” He inclined his head. “So far, it’s mostly domestic servitude. Establishing a high-protocol dynamic takes time.”
Yeah, I could imagine. It was what I’d read in Cam’s online journal. The whole thing scared me as much as it fascinated me because consensual slaves experienced similar mental conditioning to what some Littles went through.
Cam had a Master who was molding his property.
I had a Daddy who’d manipulated me while I’d been emotionally exposed.
It would do me good to see behavioral conditioning when it was done right.
“I like a bit of domestic servitude, then.” I pinched my fingers to show how much. “Like a few things I have to do every day.”
“Well, then.” He repositioned himself to lie down on his side, and he pushed himself up with his elbow. “Buddy and Beast need the most exercise every day. Should we decide that you have to spend an hour with them outside every afternoon? That includes letting them run around and stimulating their minds.”
“I would love that.” Oh my gosh, just thinking about it! I could buy delicious treats, not the sugary crap most brands had but real liver snaps and stuff, and I could train them to do more tricks. “We should make it two hours,” I said frankly. “One hour running and playing, and one hour with tricks and—oh! I can make an obstacle course!”
Sloan groaned a laugh and tipped over, burying his face against the pillow. “You gotta stop being so goddamn adorable, Corey.”