around, and noted a bottle of water on his nightstand. He smiled, knowing Cam had put it there for him, and drank half of it in one long swig.
The clock said it was nearly five in the morning, and he stood to go to the bathroom. Some movement caught his eye and he turned his head to see Cam curled up on his floor cushion.
The boy was supposed to sleep in his own room unless he was invited to sleep in here, but Frisco wouldn’t be too hard on him. Or rather, he’d listen to his reason for staying. It was likely out of concern, as he wouldn’t know if Frisco was sick or feeling bad, and would want to be near in case he was needed.
Frisco used the bathroom and then opened his tablet to check Cam’s schedule. A quick glance told him the young man had a test at ten o’clock, but nothing before. Frisco would let him sleep a while longer.
He logged in to the University with Cam’s credentials and looked at his grades. He’d made a ninety-seven on the huge project he’d been so worried about, and Frisco smiled. Everything else looked good, too, and Frisco logged off.
Part of their contract said Cam’s education came first, and as such, Frisco would have access to his grades and assignments, and would be kept up to date on his schedule. Cam had a tendency to do enough to make a high B or low A, though he was capable of making high A’s if he put in a little more effort. Frisco insisted he put in the extra effort.
Frisco’s house was large but didn’t have many rooms. He closed the bedroom door as he headed to the kitchen, because while he’d be a good distance from the bedroom, there were no other doors.
He cooked when he was troubled, and he started pulling things from the refrigerator and composing a huge breakfast in his head.
He started with the bacon, and put it in a warmer when it was ready.
The bacon grease went into some flour to make biscuit dough, and when the biscuits went into the oven he pulled onions, chives, mushrooms, cheese, and spinach from the refrigerator.
He hadn’t worked too fast, so it was nearly six by the time he was ready to start the omelets. Cam’s alarm had been set for six, and he didn’t want to make them too early.
He’d saved some bacon grease, and now he browned some flour in preparation for gravy.
Cam’s alarm sounded as the gravy was ready. Frisco checked the biscuits, smiled at their golden brown goodness, pulled them from the oven, and dumped them in a bowl.
“What’s wrong?” Cam asked as he stumbled to the kitchen wearing only his chastity device, with the cock trapped inside bulging out between the steel prison where it could. “I went to bed early so I could get up with you if you needed something. I was worried you were sick, but you’re cooking. What’s wrong?”
Because Cam worked at the restaurant and was occasionally around when Frisco’s sisters showed up at the house, he was only to call Frisco Master or Sir in the bedroom, playroom, or while in the midst of a scene.
Just because the boy knew Frisco cooked when something was wrong didn’t mean he had to tell his slave what was bothering him.
“Do you want the usual in your omelet, slave?”
Frisco could call Cam whatever the hell he wanted, whenever the hell he wanted. Well, as long as the boy didn’t have friends over. Which he didn’t very often, but occasionally hosted study groups in his apartment.
“I do, and I wish I could call you Master right now. You seem to need to hear it.”
Frisco shook his head and went back to chopping and dicing. “You may use the restroom.”
Cam wasn’t allowed to go without permission when Frisco was home, and while he hadn’t asked, Frisco knew the boy would need to go and likely hadn’t asked because he was worried and wanted to make sure his Master was okay.
Cam thanked him, went to the bathroom, returned with his cock not quite as painful looking through the jailbird, and washed his hands.
Without being told, the boy poured the gravy into a
The clock said it was nearly five in the morning, and he stood to go to the bathroom. Some movement caught his eye and he turned his head to see Cam curled up on his floor cushion.
The boy was supposed to sleep in his own room unless he was invited to sleep in here, but Frisco wouldn’t be too hard on him. Or rather, he’d listen to his reason for staying. It was likely out of concern, as he wouldn’t know if Frisco was sick or feeling bad, and would want to be near in case he was needed.
Frisco used the bathroom and then opened his tablet to check Cam’s schedule. A quick glance told him the young man had a test at ten o’clock, but nothing before. Frisco would let him sleep a while longer.
He logged in to the University with Cam’s credentials and looked at his grades. He’d made a ninety-seven on the huge project he’d been so worried about, and Frisco smiled. Everything else looked good, too, and Frisco logged off.
Part of their contract said Cam’s education came first, and as such, Frisco would have access to his grades and assignments, and would be kept up to date on his schedule. Cam had a tendency to do enough to make a high B or low A, though he was capable of making high A’s if he put in a little more effort. Frisco insisted he put in the extra effort.
Frisco’s house was large but didn’t have many rooms. He closed the bedroom door as he headed to the kitchen, because while he’d be a good distance from the bedroom, there were no other doors.
He cooked when he was troubled, and he started pulling things from the refrigerator and composing a huge breakfast in his head.
He started with the bacon, and put it in a warmer when it was ready.
The bacon grease went into some flour to make biscuit dough, and when the biscuits went into the oven he pulled onions, chives, mushrooms, cheese, and spinach from the refrigerator.
He hadn’t worked too fast, so it was nearly six by the time he was ready to start the omelets. Cam’s alarm had been set for six, and he didn’t want to make them too early.
He’d saved some bacon grease, and now he browned some flour in preparation for gravy.
Cam’s alarm sounded as the gravy was ready. Frisco checked the biscuits, smiled at their golden brown goodness, pulled them from the oven, and dumped them in a bowl.
“What’s wrong?” Cam asked as he stumbled to the kitchen wearing only his chastity device, with the cock trapped inside bulging out between the steel prison where it could. “I went to bed early so I could get up with you if you needed something. I was worried you were sick, but you’re cooking. What’s wrong?”
Because Cam worked at the restaurant and was occasionally around when Frisco’s sisters showed up at the house, he was only to call Frisco Master or Sir in the bedroom, playroom, or while in the midst of a scene.
Just because the boy knew Frisco cooked when something was wrong didn’t mean he had to tell his slave what was bothering him.
“Do you want the usual in your omelet, slave?”
Frisco could call Cam whatever the hell he wanted, whenever the hell he wanted. Well, as long as the boy didn’t have friends over. Which he didn’t very often, but occasionally hosted study groups in his apartment.
“I do, and I wish I could call you Master right now. You seem to need to hear it.”
Frisco shook his head and went back to chopping and dicing. “You may use the restroom.”
Cam wasn’t allowed to go without permission when Frisco was home, and while he hadn’t asked, Frisco knew the boy would need to go and likely hadn’t asked because he was worried and wanted to make sure his Master was okay.
Cam thanked him, went to the bathroom, returned with his cock not quite as painful looking through the jailbird, and washed his hands.
Without being told, the boy poured the gravy into a
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