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“Oh, yeah,” she moaned. “That feels great, sir.”
When I could feel her starting to relax, the desires of her mind and the response of her body falling into sync, I started to pump. Rocking my cock deep inside her, her moans fell in line with the rhythm as I held her in submission, which she didn’t seem to mind at all.
“It feels fucking amazing,” I told her. “You are one hot little pet and I want to keep my cock in that tight pussy of yours.”
Heat and passion radiated between us as we moved together, Jonna moving her hips to meet each of my thrusts as I fucked her to a massive, screaming orgasm.
The feeling of her already tight pussy clenching around me like a vice grip was enough to tip me over the edge, and I poured my load into the condom between us with a sharp groan. Slowly, slightly reluctantly, I pulled out of her and tossed the used latex in the trash.
Jonna lay limp and helpless in the center of my head, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Undoing the wrist cuffs, I scooped her up and carried her from the master bedroom, her warm cheek pressed against my bare chest.
“How are you doing, pet?” I asked her.
Jonna hadn’t quite passed out, but she had lost equilibrium, at least for a while. It was clear from the glassy look in her eyes.
“I’m okay,” she said. “I’ve just never experienced anything like that before.”
“Good,” I told her. “Let me get you in the bath again.”
I carried her there like a ragdoll and drew the water for her before helping her in.
She gazed up at me and smiled, clearly relaxed in the warm water, but unable to form words. There were no bubbles in the bath this time, so I could see every inch of her beautiful, voluptuous body, not that she seemed to mind in the least.
I dipped my hand into the water and reached down to stroke her pussy, just to see what would happen.
She hummed a bit from the sensation, but that was it. She didn’t object, or try to pull away. She was completely mine.
She’d taken the vow before I’d collared her, of course, but words were easy to say. It was another thing to live up to them.
My Jonna had the power of her convictions. Which was more than I could say for many wannabe pets that I’d met.
“Are you hungry? Or would you like to start training?” I asked her.
“Training,” she said immediately.
There were two ways that word could have been used, but she seemed equally up for either one, whether it meant job training, or training as my pet.
I really did love thinking of her as my pet. It was much better than ‘submissive’ or ‘slave.’ The word ‘pet’ accurately reflected the love, loyalty and dedication involved in the lifestyle which, in more cases than not, entailed no element of servitude. One had to have a choice before they could effectively give it up.
People wouldn’t know it to look at me, but I was steeped in philosophy, especially the sort of existentialism that deals with power dynamics. Not because I was in any way persuaded by it, but because it was best to know what tune the devil was playing.
Before Autumn Corrosion really went anywhere, I’d applied to a few different colleges, getting accepted to many, mostly on the strength of my essays, which poked some cave-sized holes in Hegel and Foucault. Then we got our first tour, and I had had a very difficult choice to make.
Of course, I’d chosen the music. But I still hung onto the study of philosophy in my own way.
Before Jonna could get wrinkly, I got her out of the tub and dried her off, my sweet little pet standing perfectly still, letting me touch and move her exactly how I saw fit. Wrapping her hair in a fresh towel, I swaddled Jonna in a soft, silk robe, doing the belt up snug.
Taking her by the hand, I led her to the dining room to fuel up for the coming day. She had said she wasn’t too hungry but I wanted to make sure she was able to focus.
Fun was fun, by definition, but there was still work to be done. I was Jonna’s mentor as well as her master and took both roles equally seriously. After she was sufficiently fucked, bathed and fed, reality started to assert itself once more.
“More demo notes, master?” Jonna asked quietly.
“Not exactly. Another way we find artists is looking through self-published videos online,” I told her. “A lot of it sucks or is derivative, especially the covers. Every so often, though, something truly wonderful and original, something slightly raw, comes up. That’s what I’m looking for. Something that could be great with proper production. I already know you have great taste, so maybe you can find it for me.”
