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Grace
I'mbeginningtowonder if this whole service-submission thing is just a ploy to make me study harder.
It’s been five days since I agreed to serve Aidan, and all he’s had me do is sit on the rug in his office and do my homework.
We still eat dinner together, and he’s joined me for breakfast two mornings in a row. He seems to like watching me do everyday things. But whereas before, I’d catch him staring and he’d look away, now he doesn’t look away anymore. He studies me without reservation over the rim of his glass, or his own steepled fingers. It took some getting used to. Now I feel restless if he’s in the room and he’s not watching me.
Jen suspects something’s up. She hasn’t outright said it, but I’m sure she’s wondering why I’ve begun spending so much time in Aidan’s office.
I have yet to bring it up with Jasmine.
Aidan hasn’t instructed me not to tell anyone about us, but I like the idea of being his little secret. I feel like a treasure in his pocket that nobody else knows about. Something he can reach in throughout the day and finger—figuratively speaking. When he said he wasn’t going to touch me, he wasn’t being hyperbolic.
He hasn’t touched me at all since I got down on my knees and begged him to be my Dom.
I still don’t know how I did that. It was as if my body suddenly forgot how to feel shame. I shocked myself with how brazen I was, how honest and exposed I allowed myself to become. Since that night, I feel as if my insides have been renovated like a home interior. I’m not the same person I was when I first came to this house.
For instance, I didn’t used to masturbate often. Sharing a room for much of the year makes it hard to find time to be alone. Now that I have a bedroom to myself, I do it every night. Sometimes twice. I exist in a constant state of arousal whenever Aidan’s in the room, or whenever I’m thinking about him, which is most of the time.
I can’t imagine he’s satisfied watching me write essays and read Hamlet. I begin to suspect my attraction might be entirely one-sided, until the morning I sense his heated gaze on my bare legs.
Sprawled out on the rug with my Advanced Calc workbook, I pretend not to notice his interest as I cross and uncross my legs. He rubs his bottom lip, not taking his eyes off me.
The next day, I make a point of wearing an even shorter dress.
I want to provoke a response. Any response other than this all-business demeanor. I’ve all but handed myself over to him on a platter, and so far, he seems content to let me languish, untasted. It’s not that I want him to go back on his word; I just want some kind of signal that he wants this, too. That he’s not simply leading me on, hoping I’ll get bored and decide to end this whole thing before it even has a chance to start.
I’m in the middle of granting him an especially generous view of my inner thighs when he slams his laptop shut and says, “Out.”
I slap on a quizzical frown. "Why?"
His jaw twitches. “Because I said so.”
“But I’m not done with my homework.”
“You can finish it somewhere else.”
My heart sinks into my stomach. I thought I was looking for any reaction at all, but deep down, this isn’t what I was hoping for. Aidan doesn’t seem angry, but he’s definitely teetering on some kind of edge.
Thoroughly chastened, I gather my books and slink out of his office.
The next morning, I return to find myself locked out. I knock gently on the door. After what feels like an eternity, Aidan answers, his expression calm as a pond.
“Did you need something?” he asks.
“I’m just here to do my homework.”
I flash him my most polite smile. He folds his arms across his chest.
“I don’t recall telling you to come back.”
Technically, he didn’t tell me to come back. I had hoped my banishment would be over with the start of a new day. Evidently, I was mistaken.
“When can I come back?” I ask.
“When you’re ready to give up control.”
I hug my laptop, confused. “I don’t understand.”
