The First of Many

Serve

-☾-

Your head swam, tingles of electricity rising to the surface of your skin as the word he offered hovered on your lips. You barely dared even to blink, but Morpheus continued to hold your gaze while your blood thrummed beneath his fingertips. Every drop of moisture seemed to leave your mouth, rendering you unable to squeak out an answer. But you didn't need your voice for him to know that you were his to control, to use as he'd like; your body was making that increasingly apparent.

You nodded mutely, acutely aware of the moisture gathering in your underwear. The warmth of the room returned and the wall sconces stilled and steadied, flames no longer flickering. You could hear the fireplace crackling again, the fire continuing to lap at the darkened wood. A log popped, overcome by the heat and broke into two ashen halves in a shower of sparks that floated into the chimney. It was comforting to have some noise back in the room to fill the silence with something other than your too-quick breathing.

"We do not need this, now, do we?" his tone was warm and honeyed, serpentine, wrapping all around you.

Your breath thinned further, not from the physical grip of firm fingers encircling your neck, but from the implication, the sample of the power Morpheus had at his disposal. His hand slid down your throat to toy with the ribbed collar of your T-shirt.

"No," you answered, voice rough from your dry throat.

His fingers snuck underneath the worn cotton, grazing the line of your collarbone with a touch that seeped with warmth. The heat spread down from your chest into your belly, where it collected into a dull, aching pressure.

"You are forgetting something," he said, his lips barely parting as he spoke so softly, somehow more persuasive than anything louder may have been.

"No..." You drew in your breath, knowing what he wanted.

Master.

Your cheeks prickled with heat at the thought of uttering it aloud, the word catching on your tongue which felt far too thick. You'd never called anyone a title like this, at least not in a serious way. In the past, you'd thrown out a 'Daddy' as a joke with a partner, a playful bit of over-the-top role-play followed by a fit of giggling, but nothing like this. Saying the word, speaking it while his fingers danced sensually along your skin and his starry-eyed gaze rested upon you felt like something reverent, a holy and binding vow.

His chin tilted upwards as he waited, expectantly peering at you through dark lashes. You squirmed underneath his stare, feeling the hem of your T-shirt brushing against your thighs.

"N-No..." you started again, brow furrowing, compelled to form the word. "Master."

The word felt smooth as silk on your tongue, sliding across your trembling lips more easily than you had expected. It felt good. And even better was the look on his face, his expression softened, pleased — increasing the satisfaction that simmered low within you. He removed his hand from your top and made a small gesture, a lazy pass of his hand. At once, you were barren of your shirt, the garment disappearing smoothly without a trace as if it had never been there in the first place. You moved your arms to the front of you to wrap protectively around your bare breasts, now exposed.

Morpheus clicked his tongue in reproach, a sound that struck you through and caused you to drop your arms at once and reveal yourself to him. Shamefaced, you moved your hands behind you to rest at the curve at the base of your spine. It was so foreign being before someone like this, clad only in a skimpy pair of underwear while he was still covered from head to toe.

You licked your chapped lips, moistening them as he rose to stand before you, breaking the eye contact that had you captivated. He walked towards his desk and began to shuck off his jacket. For a moment you wondered why he didn't just...make his own clothing vanish as he did with your shirt. It'd be quicker and easier. But as he moved, slowly, methodically, you think you began to understand.