The Lord of the Library

Chapter Twenty-Three

That evening, PJ just baked. When he is unhappy or bored, really whenever he could, PJ would bake.

A knock was heard from the door.

With a glance at the door, it was opened. Crescent peaked his head in, waving at PJ.

"Greetings and salutations," Crescent said, smiling.

"Good evening," PJ replied, still cracking some eggs into the batter.

Crescent walked up, looking over the counter, asking, "What are you doing?"

"Making cookies," PJ told him, getting the mixing-machine.

"Cool." 

"I'll just mix it, put the batter in little balls, and I'll just pop it into the oven." PJ turned to Crescent, smiling at his friend.

"Okay, I'll wait!" Crescent sat on one of the stools at the counter.

After a while, PJ was balling some of the dough. Fresh came out of his room, walking over to PJ.

"Hey, Slut," Fresh said, walking from behind him. He looked over the smaller's shoulder, watching him balling up the dough. "What're you doing?"

"That's not my name, Petite Bite," PJ growled, snapping his head at the other. "And it's none of your business!"

"We both know that's a lie. Now apologize." Fresh pulled his hair, forcing him to look at him. He moved up more, grabbing the upper roots of his hair roughly.

"H-hey!" PJ tried struggled. He yelped as his hair was roughly pulled again.

"Slut, sweetie, don't give me a reason to hurt you~" Fresh cooed, holding PJ's hair in his hands. PJ tried punching him, but Fresh simply caught his hand and pulled his hair harder.

"N-no! L-let go!" PJ whimpered, tears pricking his eyes.

Crescent hid slightly, frightened by the aggravation Fresh showed.

"What do you say?" Fresh questioned. He pulled PJ's hair harder.

"I-I-I'm s-sorry!" PJ exclaimed. "P-please let g-go!"

"Who are you sorry to?" Fresh glared at him.

"B-but someone's w-watching..." PJ whispered to him.

"I don't care, Slut." Fresh smirked maliciously, waiting for PJ to call him that name.

"M-Master..." PJ whimpered.

"Good little Slut~" Fresh let go of his hair.

Fresh grabbed his chin, gently kissing his cheek as a reward of sorts. 

"So, what are you making?" Fresh questioned.

"C-cookies..." PJ mumbled, continuing to ball off the dough.

"Have you ever made cum cookies?"

"No."

"We should try it sometime."

"How about no?" PJ snapped his head back at Fresh. His sunglasses read 'TRY AGAIN' which was all the warning PJ needed. He just continued to ball up the dough. "I-I mean, sure, w-whatever you say, M-Master..."

Fresh smirked, kissing PJ's jaw. PJ felt so ashamed that he was so weak. He let Fresh forced him into calling him by this stupid kink. In front of one of his only friends, too!

Fresh, on the other hand, loved it. He loved being the one being listened to. When PJ gives in and calls him his Master in front of other people, it is such an act of loyalty and submission. He loved that power.