Page 25 of His Master

“I don’t feel sorry for you at all,” Victor said, his brow going up. He shifted again so that his legs framed me and stroked my hair and face. “I feel proud of you. I meant it when I said you’re beautiful and perfect. You’re a perfect slave, and I’m so proud to be your master.”

That did it. I burst into tears yet again, but for an entirely different reason this time. There were no words for how goodand fulfilling it felt to hear him praise me just for being me. It was like the core of my being was finally being fed everything it had ever wanted, like I could finally, for the first time in my life, truly be happy.

“Command me, Master,” I said, gazing up at him with adoring eyes. “I am yours for whatever you want.”

Victor smiled, his look full of joy and lust. He took a deep breath, like he, too had let something go and felt lighter.

He pushed me back a bit from the bed, then grabbed my head and forced me to lower all the way until my cheek was pressed against the floor with my hips and ass in the air. Then he put his foot on my head to hold me there and stroked my lifted ass with one hand.

“Such a perfect, hot slave,” he said, sliding his fingers between my cheeks to rub my sore but hungry hole. “You think you’re ready to sate all of my lusts? Even the ones I keep hidden?”

“Yes, Master,” I said, relaxing as he thrust his fingers into me and pushed down harder with his foot. It felt so good and right that I closed my eyes, and for the first time in my life, I let absolutely everything go and just accepted who I knew I was and had always wanted to be.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Victor

It all made sense now. And I meant that on the grandest scale possible. Simon had been upset because his natural instincts were in complete contradiction to the messaging that omegas got these days. I was sure he still had a long way to go before he reached complete acceptance, but we’d made a start together.

Everything made sense for me as well. I cared for Simon. He was my responsibility as his alpha, for however long our fantasy lasted, but it went beyond that as well. It was one of those ethereal things that couldn’t be described with words, but I felt like Simon and I were connected on a visceral level.

The channels were all open. We had strong bond potential. All we had to do was decide whether to make that connection or let it pass.

And I wanted it, as soon and sudden as it was. I desperately wanted it.

I had to let logic and rationality take a front seat, though.

At least for now.

“Come along, boy,” I told Simon, standing and hooking my fingers through the ring at the front of his collar to bring him to his feet with me. “I’m starving, and I want to eat something other than your hole.”

I glanced over my shoulder to him as I led him from the bedroom into the main part of the apartment.

“I’ll save that for dessert,” I added.

“Yes, Master,” Simon said, joy and relief radiating from him, though he kept his head bowed subserviently.

I usually required my omega playmates to keep their heads down and their eyes averted through the fantasy, unless I ordered otherwise, but that wasn’t what I wanted from Simon at all.

“Eyes on me at all times,” I told him, as we reached the open kitchen at the other end of the apartment’s vast main room. “Unless I tell you otherwise. I want your attention fully on me so you’re ready to serve me.”

“Yes, Master,” Simon said, unable to keep the smile off his lips or out of his eyes.

I loved it. My sweet slave had taken the first step on his journey of self-acceptance.

I had him kneel on the hard, tile floor once we reached the kitchen, kicking his knees farther apart, pushing his shoulders back, and stroking my hand up his throat to lift his face to me. He’d already assumed a perfect pose, and the rough touch was more to reinforce his place than to make any corrections.

It was magnificent the way Simon worked to hold the elongated pose as I went about cooking supper. I liked to cook, unlike everyone else in my family, and I took my time, seasoning the chicken just right, chopping the vegetables, and prepping the pasta to go on the side.

Simon watched me the entire time, his posture never faltering. His breathing was easy and gentle, and he continued to radiate contentment through all of my work.

I loved it. More than I should have. It stirred a deep satisfaction in me to have my omega on his knees, probably hurting a little from the tile and his pose, waiting for my slightest command. It didn’t feel at all like fantasies of the past. It felt incredibly real.

“Come,” I ordered Simon once the meal was finished and I’d carried one, heaping plate to the table in the dining room area adjacent to the kitchen.

Simon got up and followed me, eyes wide with sweet anticipation.

“Kneel,” I told him pointing to the floor next to my chair as I sat.

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