“Well done, slave. I knew you’d be wonderful at that. I can’t believe I wasted my time beating and f*****g somebody else.”
With my tongue and fingers so fervently busy I hadn’t really processed Mistress’ similar remark earlier. But now in the midst of my wild happiness at her praise, relief that I’d pleased her and my only slowly easing frustrated frenzy a stab of miserable jealousy punctures my inappropriate pride.
Mistress should be expected to have other relationships: slaves, lovers, even mates. My training has certainly not neglected the fact that I might be required to witness or join such liaisons or even service others myself for her amusement or convenience. Yet after a week and more of exclusivity in which she has been my entire universe (and a wonderfully heavenly one at that
