“Bring us each a drink.” “Yes Sir.” And it hit her, her role as submissive. Really taking orders. Rather than bristling against the command, she found she wanted to take care of their needs, as if they were guests at her home. Take care of her lovers, as they had treated her tender spots moments before. “Where are the drinks?” They instructed her where to find the pitcher of water and glasses. She filled two and placed them on a tray, then stood before them, sagging breasts and all, holding the tray while they drank. When Master Q looked up, he caught her watching him. “A slave doesn’t raise her eyes to her master unless instructed to.” She quickly looked down at their feet. There was so much to get used to, so much to learn in order to be a submissive. She’d read up about it on the internet, in addition to what Mistress Marla had taught her, but apparently hadn’t cracked the spine of the instruction manual yet. At the thought of the woman’s name, she glanced at the chair in the corner, which stood empty.
