“From now on this is your home outfit.” He walked up to her and started stroking with his fingernails up her back. He’d been outside; she could feel the chill He carried with Him on her skin. “You can do your hair how you like, wear any of your heels, but when you’re home you’re naked.”
She was still in the pose He’d put her in, what, twenty minutes ago? She had forgotten to wonder where He’d gone. Now He pulled her to Him and pulled her out of it. He kissed her, hard, and said “There is absolutely no fucking reason for you to ever not be naked.”
The compliment even more than the kiss all but turned her to jelly. He held her to Him and fondled her breasts. “Not that I won’t make exceptions. Sometimes there are outfits just begging to be worn. Right baby?”
He was teasing her. She giggled a little. “I love every outfit you make me wear, Daddy.” A slave doesn't have preferences. The giggle turned into a squirm and settled itself in her hips. She closed her eyes and lay her head back against His shoulder. “I love my new home outfit.”
Had she even had a home outfit before? She already couldn’t remember one. It was hot knowing how casually He could fuck with her mind.
He put his cheek against hers. “What a little suck-up you are,” he growled. "Who’d have guessed?” But He took pity on her anyway and reached down for her pussy.
Her breath caught. Be patient, she told herself. She was flooded with need. This is just the start.
The hand at her breast came up to her throat. “Tell me why I didn’t mention the collar as part of your home outfit.”
She whimpered. He was testing her. She loved that He was testing her. She wished she could fail but she knew the answer, even through the pussy fog, and if she knew then she had to tell it.
“Collar’s not an outfit,” she said. He pushed deeper inside her. “Collar—Collar is a part of the slave’s body.”
He laughed, stepped away from her, and slapped her ass hard with the hand that was just now working her cunt. Her whole body vibrated with it like a bell. “You always were a good study, kiddo.”
I’m His, the bell was singing. She couldn’t help herself. “I love being taught about my slavery, Master.” She didn’t care if it was talking out of turn, it was just how she felt.
He shoved her between her shoulder blades and in His command voice said “On the floor” and she half-fell onto her hands and knees. Her breath was heaving. “Crawl into the bedroom and get your ass up on the bed.” He kicked her on the rump to set her going.
She knew that’s how he’d expect to find her too, on all fours. She always told herself, a slave doesn't anticipate. Even before, that had been a thing she’d had, about staying in the moment. But He wanted her, and He wanted her degraded, and in the unbearable heat of that thought nothing was real to her except get up on the bed.