I woke up in the morning, stretching the kinks out of my muscles and smiling. Mistress had deemed me a well-behaved pet again the night before, so instead of spending the night outside in my container, I was allowed to sleep in the hallway outside of her room on the tile floor. I had even been gifted with a thin wool blanket, which I used not to cover my body, but instead to roll up and put under my head as a pillow. After all, the tiles were somewhat heated, but my head had no padding.
Now it was six in the morning, and I was supposed to wake up. Finishing my stretch, I quickly smoothed my sleep clothes and folded my blanket over my arm, standing at attention next to Mistress' door. I’d been told very clearly last night that after waking, I was to remain there until she awoke or called for me.
As I stood there, I saw some of the staff walk by as they began their daily duties, and some of them smirked. I knew what they said about me, even though they didn't realize it. I was her pet, her new toy, her slave. They thought those were insults. Oh, how they were wrong.
Instead, I was proud of it. The idea that my service pleased her lent strength to my legs and steel to my spine as I stood there in my bare feet, my toes going numb but still not moving. I kept my eyes straight ahead, only turning to nod or greet those who went by and spoke to me in either English or French. Even those who said good morning in Ukrainian were still given a nod and a polite smile — they were at least trying. Those who smirked or looked at me derisively I just dismissed from view, they weren't worth my attention. After all, it wasn't my fault they couldn't understand.
Finally, when the clock just visible at the end of the hallway said it was fifteen minutes after seven, I heard the sound that sent tingles down my spine and caused my heart to beat faster. She came to her door and opened it, stepping into the hallway and looking so beautiful I wanted to weep in adoration. Her platinum blond hair tumbled down her shoulders and her back like a halo, and her eyes sparkled with divine beauty and kindness. “Good morning, my pet.”
“Good morning, Mistress,” I greeted her, trying not to let my cock grow hard. It wasn't that she didn't know I thought her beautiful beyond compare, but instead she wanted me to learn how to control myself. Giving in to the beastly passions that coursed through my body was intolerable. It had been the hardest lesson I was to master, and one I struggled with constantly.
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.”