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Double Dealing(77)

By:Lauren Landish


I was only partially successful this time, as my cock did twitch and swell, but not overly so. She noticed, and gave me the reward of a smile. “Very good. Your efforts are improving.”

“Thank you. I apologize again about yesterday, and thank you for the generosity of sleeping here last night,” I said, meaning every word. “How may I serve you today?”

“First, you need to wash and prepare yourself for the day,” She said. “We will add to your training, starting today. So, I want you to go to the kitchen and ask Maria for your morning breakfast drink, then after you have that, start your morning exercises. Shower, change into a fresh set of clothing, and meet me in the solarium by ten o'clock.”

“Yes Mistress,” I replied, straightening up as tall as I could. I turned to go and obey, when her chuckle stopped me. I turned back, questioning. “Is there something else?”

Her smile grew and she turned her cheek to me, pointing. “You did well. You may have a reward. Go ahead.”

I trembled as I leaned down to kiss her perfect alabaster cheek, my nose inhaling every bit of her scent and thrilling me all the way to my core. I wanted to linger, to taste and to feel more, but resisted, knowing I wasn't worthy yet. Instead, I pulled back, unable to stop the soft whimper that escaped my lips when she brought her hand up and cupped my face. “You have learned so well, so fast,” she said. “You make being a good trainer both very easy and very difficult. Now go, and if you obey well today, I may let you sleep in my bedroom tonight. The carpet is softer than this marble tile.”

I turned and walked quickly down the hall, Mistress' words adding spring to my step as I made my way to the kitchen. Maria, the morning staff cook, was already at her duties, mixing a large bowl of what I assumed would become porridge, as well as slicing Russian style kolbasa sausage. Many of the staff at the house are men, which means large appetites that include lots of protein. This was not a household for muesli or vegetables at the breakfast table. “Good morning, Maria.”

“Ah, good morning Spartak,” Maria greeted me, using the Russian name that I’d been given. My former names were fading into the haze that was my life before. I could still remember them, Felix and Gudada, although I did not quite remember why I had two first names. Not that it mattered, of course. All that mattered was serving Mistress. “And how is Mistress Svetlana this morning?”

“She’s well,” I said, unable to hide my blush. “She has asked that I come down and have my breakfast before my morning exercises.”

“Of course. I had it prepared twenty minutes ago, so I put it in the icebox,” she said. Maria was one of the few members of the house who spoke good English, although she tended to use the British variety instead of the American that I was familiar with. “It has probably separated some. Would you like me to blend it up again?”

“That would be nice. Thank you,” I said. “Can I stir your porridge while you do that? I know the staff wouldn’t appreciate lumps.”

Maria smiled and nodded, handing me the large wooden paddle-like spoon that she used to stir the ten liter sized pot. Thankfully, Maria was quick, and brought me my cup. “Here you are. By the way, I upped the caloric content. Svetlana said that you lacked energy right before lunch. Three scoops today, and I used full fat milk instead of skim.”

“Thank you,” I said, taking it and stepping back. “May I drink it here?”

Maria laughed and nodded. “Spartak, the only person you have to ask permission to do anything around here is from the Mistress. In case you haven't figured it out yet, being her pet is quite a high position. Serve her well, and I will be calling you sir before you know it.”

I chuckled and shook my head. “I would allow that, Maria. I only wish to serve her as best I can.”

Maria sighed and took the pot of porridge off of the heat, replacing it with a large cast-iron griddle that she arranged her slices of kolbasa on. As I started to drink, the fat from the sausage melted and began to sputter and crackle underneath the sausage, adding a festive spark to our conversation and a delicious smell to the air. “Spartak, you are an intelligent man, despite what others think of you. And yes, I’m aware that you know what they say, for the most part. You understand more of the Ukrainian than many others realize, and you've applied yourself with equal fervor to learning what’s asked of you. For this I congratulate you, but I also ask that, once you are familiar with your duties with her, that you strive to expand your topics of conversation with me beyond that of the Mistress. I know you and her discuss other things. I overheard you two talking in, what was it, French, the other day?”