his pets

9. the new normal

The next morning, Lily woke to the sound of the city slowly coming alive outside the window. She stretched languidly, her body still humming from the previous night's encounter. As she sat up, she found herself automatically straightening the bed, folding the pillows just so.
The rules he had whispered to her played out in her mind like a script she had memorized in her sleep.

The smell of coffee filled the apartment, wafting in from the kitchen. She felt a warmth spread through her, a sense of anticipation for the day ahead.
She knew what was expected of her now, and she was eager to please.

In the kitchen, Christopher was already dressed, his tie perfectly knotted, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. He looked up as she entered, his eyes sweeping over her body, noting her obedience.
She had slept naked, as he had instructed, and she felt a thrill of vulnerability and power at his gaze. "Good morning, Doll," he said, his voice a gentle rumble.
"Good morning, Master," she replied, her voice still thick with sleep. She moved to the kitchen island, where a notepad and pen lay neatly.
The rules he had whispered the night before had embedded themselves in her mind, a silent promise of her devotion.
She began to scribble down the tasks for the day:
breakfast, cleaning, writing.

Christopher's eyes lit up with approval. "Very good," he said, his voice low and warm. "You're already learning." He took a sip of his coffee, watching her intently as she wrote.
Her skin was still flushed from sleep, her hair a wild tangle around her shoulders. She was beautiful in her submission, a canvas for him to paint his desires upon.
Lily felt a strange thrill at his words, as if she had passed a test she hadn't known she was taking.
She had woken up with the rules embedded in her mind, a silent command that she had obeyed without question. It was as if the very fabric of her being had been rewired to serve him, and she found the thought intoxicating.

As she moved through the apartment, she felt a new sense of purpose. The tasks he had set for her were not just chores; they were a form of worship, a way to show her dedication to the man who had taken her in and given her a new life.
She cleaned with meticulous care, her movements precise and efficient, each stroke of the cloth a silent declaration of her loyalty.
When she sat down to write, the words flowed from her fingertips as if by some divine intervention. The characters she had once struggled with came to life under her touch, their stories unfolding in a way she had never thought possible. It was as if the binaural beats had unlocked some hidden part of her mind, a place where creativity and submission danced together in perfect harmony.
Lily wrote for hours, her thoughts and emotions spilling onto the page in a torrent of ink. She was so absorbed in her work that she didn't hear Christopher enter the room. When she finally looked up, her eyes were blurry from staring at the screen, and she was surprised to find him standing there, watching her.

"You've done well," he said, his voice a gentle praise. "The beats are working. Your writing is... inspired."

Lily blushed, not quite sure how to respond. The rules had become a part of her, a natural extension of her existence. She had woken up with an unspoken understanding of what was expected, a silent symphony playing in her mind that guided her every action.
She had cleaned the apartment to perfection, her movements almost robotic in their precision, and she had cooked a breakfast that would have made any five-star chef proud.
All without a single word of instruction from Christopher.

When he finally emerged from his study, his eyes swept over the gleaming surfaces and the meticulously arranged dishes, a smile playing on his lips.
"Perfect, as always," he said, his tone one of approval. He took a seat at the table, watching as she poured him a cup of coffee, her hand steady despite the tremor in her heart.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of activity. She wrote, she cleaned, she cooked, all under the watchful eye of the man she now called 'Master'. The tasks were mundane, yet they filled her with a strange sense of accomplishment.
Each time she completed something to his satisfaction, she felt a warmth spread through her, a feeling she hadn't felt in a long time.