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Happiness. Although the slave kept his face straight, I could see how excited he was to serve. It was a mistake with my mood.
I stood, letting him sit down the stool. I grabbed the brush, crushing his feelings as I ran it through my hair a few times. When I tossed it on the bed and divided my hair into three parts, only then did I sit on the stool and wait for him. It didn’t take long.
My hair disappeared from both shoulders, and I felt the part in the middle of my back lift as he began to attempt his braid.
“What is your name?”
A pause behind me.
“Slave eighty-eight.”
“I’m aware of that,” I said, dryly. “I mean your real name. The one you had before you came here.”
Silence. It lasted for so long as my hair weaved that I almost turned around.
“Mark Reston.”
“It says you were Ivy League, and that you’re really smart.”
He shifted, moving towards the end of my long hair.
“Yale. Two years. Biomedical Sciences.”
“Interesting.” He finished putting in the hairband, and I turned, seeing the conflicting emotions on his face. “Did you enjoy it?” At my hand pressing into his chest, the slave laid back on the bed. I crawled up, straddling his waist. The moment my hands flattened over his muscled pecs, his eyes shut in pleasure.
“I did. I loved it. I haven’t thought about those days in a long time.”
The last was whispered. My fingers roamed from shoulder to shoulder as the shower turned on in the background. I let myself explore his skin, moving over the muscles. The hardness from him nestled between my legs didn’t escape me, but I ignored his cock, instead, increasing and decreasing my touch.
“Have you ever been in love, slave?”
Light green met me as he opened his eyes.
“I thought I was once, but it wasn’t love.”
“No?”
His head shook. “More admiration. She was a hard worker and very smart. That appealed to me, but that’s as far as it went. I don’t think I ever even talked to her.”
Where I expected a smile at the memories, he gave none, blinking his past away only to smile as he looked back up to me.
“What else would my Mistress like to know?”
“What was your personality like? How did you dress before you were taken? You were in a medical gown in your profile.”
“Normal? Jeans, sweaters. T-shirts when it warmed up. I guess like you’d picture how any college kid dressed. I was boring. Learning was my life. I meant to make something of myself. I was determined to rise above the way I was raised.”
The words were sobering and a mirror to myself, but they weren’t the entire truth concerning him. “I see.” My hands spanned over his chest, taking in his physique. “Were you always this fit?”
He laughed, surprising me. It sounded so normal. So real, as if he wasn’t programmed at all. “Not exactly. I was okay, but this helped me keep my mind.” His eyebrows drew in. “Is it too much for you?”
“No, I like it. I expect you to stay this way. I have a very strict diet. You will keep one as well.”
Relief was obvious as the muscles underneath me relaxed.
“My body is yours. I’ll get as big or as small as you want. I want to be your ideal slave. The perfect specimen you can create.”
“Create.” I lifted, crawling from the bed as I paced. My slave did have a point. One that I hadn’t given much thought to. Sure, his looks were exactly what I had in mind for a dream slave. Hell, who was I fooling, he surpassed them, but what else did I want? I was so curious to discover who he was that I hadn’t given much thought to who I’d like him to become. And that was up to me. He had to dress with what I bought him. Eat what I wanted him to. Do whatever I said. Why wouldn’t he appear the way I wanted, too?
