from the kitchen sends her
moving to do what Garrett instructed.
Opening the door to the room, Zara knew that someone had
been in and straightened up the space. The bed that she had made before going
to find the coffee now had the same military corners as Garrett’s bed.
Taking off the hair tie as she walked into the bathroom,
Zara noticed the towel she had used after her shower was no longer hanging on
the towel bar. A replacement towel makes the stack exactly the same as this
morning.
Turning on the shower, Zara quickly removes her clothes and
steps under the warm spray, enjoying the water against her skin. There was
something special about this rain stream spigot.
Washed, dried and in a tee shirt and yoga pants in record
time, Zara makes her way back to the kitchen where three things catch her
attention. First, Garrett has changed. He is now in a MSU tee shirt, sleep
pants and is barefoot. Second, a wrapped present sits on the counter next to the
coffee machine, and third, a black box in the center of the table. Of the
three, Garrett in comfy clothes and bare feet top the list.
“May I help with the cooking?”
“No… no… no. Just talk to me and keep me company. It is
almost ready.” Garrett points to the table and returns to chopping vegetables.
“May I get a beverage?” Zara whispers.
Garrett pauses. Zara tenses and quickly sits in the chair
closest to where she had been standing. Putting down the knife and cucumber, Garrett
rinses his hands and picks up a towel.
Without a word, he dries his hands and tosses the towel on
the counter next to the cutting board. He steps to the table to stand directly
in front of Zara. Garrett looks deeply into her eyes, almost as if he is
reading her thoughts. Without touching her, he kneels in front of her never
taking his eyes from hers.
“Breathe, Zara.” He waits for her to exhale and once
satisfied begins to speak, never breaking eye contact.
“Zara, while you are in this house or any house that I sleep
in, it is your home. Let me say that differently. You are free to do whatever
you would do if you were in your own home.
“First, I am not your Dom. You are not required to ask me
for permission to get a beverage or anything else. If you are hungry, eat. If you’re
tired, go to your room and rest. If you’re bored with the conversation, change
it.
“Second, if or when we do finish the Circle Ceremony, you
will continue to have these same freedoms. I have never wanted a slave as a
mate. I am a Dom and the Master/slave dynamic does not appeal to who I am.”
Garrett continues to stare into Zara’s eyes, as the tears
begin to pool. She fights to keep them at bay but once the first tear escapes,
several more follow. He reaches to wipe the tears off her cheeks but pauses
just shy of making contact.
Standing, Garrett walks quickly to the pantry and pulls out
a box of tissues. Returning to the table, he hands Zara the box and sits in the
chair next to her. He waits. She rips open the cardboard and takes out a couple
of tissues.
“Are you disappointed that I don’t want a slave?”
“NO!” Zara answers firmly, but the lack of confidence in Garrett’s
voice when he asks the question throws Zara off balance. She hopes he didn’t
need her to give more of an answer.
Garrett reaches for the black box that had been sitting on
the table. He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Placing the box in front of
Zara, he stands and returns to the knife and cutting board.
“It’s important to me that you consider this your home and that
you move around freely and without concern. I would like that very much.” When
he finishes speaking, he resumes his chopping.
Zara looks at the picture on the top of the box. It’s an
iPhone. She’s never had one but smiles to herself. She picks up the box and
opens it.
Zara looks up at Garrett and smiles when her eyes meet his
staring back at her, “Thank you.”
Placing the phone back into the box and setting it on
moving to do what Garrett instructed.
Opening the door to the room, Zara knew that someone had
been in and straightened up the space. The bed that she had made before going
to find the coffee now had the same military corners as Garrett’s bed.
Taking off the hair tie as she walked into the bathroom,
Zara noticed the towel she had used after her shower was no longer hanging on
the towel bar. A replacement towel makes the stack exactly the same as this
morning.
Turning on the shower, Zara quickly removes her clothes and
steps under the warm spray, enjoying the water against her skin. There was
something special about this rain stream spigot.
Washed, dried and in a tee shirt and yoga pants in record
time, Zara makes her way back to the kitchen where three things catch her
attention. First, Garrett has changed. He is now in a MSU tee shirt, sleep
pants and is barefoot. Second, a wrapped present sits on the counter next to the
coffee machine, and third, a black box in the center of the table. Of the
three, Garrett in comfy clothes and bare feet top the list.
“May I help with the cooking?”
“No… no… no. Just talk to me and keep me company. It is
almost ready.” Garrett points to the table and returns to chopping vegetables.
“May I get a beverage?” Zara whispers.
Garrett pauses. Zara tenses and quickly sits in the chair
closest to where she had been standing. Putting down the knife and cucumber, Garrett
rinses his hands and picks up a towel.
Without a word, he dries his hands and tosses the towel on
the counter next to the cutting board. He steps to the table to stand directly
in front of Zara. Garrett looks deeply into her eyes, almost as if he is
reading her thoughts. Without touching her, he kneels in front of her never
taking his eyes from hers.
“Breathe, Zara.” He waits for her to exhale and once
satisfied begins to speak, never breaking eye contact.
“Zara, while you are in this house or any house that I sleep
in, it is your home. Let me say that differently. You are free to do whatever
you would do if you were in your own home.
“First, I am not your Dom. You are not required to ask me
for permission to get a beverage or anything else. If you are hungry, eat. If you’re
tired, go to your room and rest. If you’re bored with the conversation, change
it.
“Second, if or when we do finish the Circle Ceremony, you
will continue to have these same freedoms. I have never wanted a slave as a
mate. I am a Dom and the Master/slave dynamic does not appeal to who I am.”
Garrett continues to stare into Zara’s eyes, as the tears
begin to pool. She fights to keep them at bay but once the first tear escapes,
several more follow. He reaches to wipe the tears off her cheeks but pauses
just shy of making contact.
Standing, Garrett walks quickly to the pantry and pulls out
a box of tissues. Returning to the table, he hands Zara the box and sits in the
chair next to her. He waits. She rips open the cardboard and takes out a couple
of tissues.
“Are you disappointed that I don’t want a slave?”
“NO!” Zara answers firmly, but the lack of confidence in Garrett’s
voice when he asks the question throws Zara off balance. She hopes he didn’t
need her to give more of an answer.
Garrett reaches for the black box that had been sitting on
the table. He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Placing the box in front of
Zara, he stands and returns to the knife and cutting board.
“It’s important to me that you consider this your home and that
you move around freely and without concern. I would like that very much.” When
he finishes speaking, he resumes his chopping.
Zara looks at the picture on the top of the box. It’s an
iPhone. She’s never had one but smiles to herself. She picks up the box and
opens it.
Zara looks up at Garrett and smiles when her eyes meet his
staring back at her, “Thank you.”
Placing the phone back into the box and setting it on
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