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“Now let’s go downstairs and I’ll make you some dinner.”

“I don’t need you to dish it for me.”

“Too damned bad. You’re going to sit your pretty ass at the dining table and let me serve you.”

“But I’m… I’m the submissive.”

“In bed. And in bed you took care of me. So now I get to take care of you.”

“That’s not how it always works,” she points out.

“Thank you. Did you read that on the internet?”

She frowns. “Yes.”

“That’s not how I do things. Some people do. That’s fine. They like to keep the dynamic going when they aren’t having sex. I don’t.”

I don’t tell her it’s because my interaction with submissives is so minimal outside of sex that it’s never turned into that. I don’t tell her it’s because I’ve never kept a submissive as my own.

I can certainly see the appeal. Playing games like she did today. Doing the housework naked, waiting for me to come take her. I can see where we could get to a point where we change things up sometimes. Where sometimes I take her and tie her up, but sometimes I fuck her right there on the floor. With no discussion. But that would be a different kind of relationship. The kind I simply don’t have.

I tie her robe for her and she looks up at me, expectant and lovely.

I want to kiss her. I don’t do that.

“You did well,” I say. A shiver of satisfaction goes through her body, and it’s like I can feel it in my own. “Let’s go downstairs.”

I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I always make sure my submissives are comfortable after sex and sometimes they stay the night, though they do it in this bedroom without me. It’s why it’s outfitted with soft, comfortable things. Why there’s a nice bathroom adjoining it. If Avery thinks I have all these things so I can have dinner and a cozy movie with those women, she’s wrong. And I could tell her that, but I decide not to.

We go downstairs, and she sits at the table. I push her chair in while I go to the crockpot where there’s roast with vegetables simmering away.

I get out a bowl, and dish her a generous portion. Then I see to myself before getting her a water and myself a beer.

She stares at the water. “I can have a beer,” she says.

“You need to drink water first,” I say.

“He says to me after making it clear he doesn’t do Dom shit out of the bedroom.”

I shrugged. “I am who I am.”

She looks down at the bowl of food, then back up at me. I take my seat across from her.

“When did you discover that you were… This?”

“You first. What made you discover it?”

Her face turns scarlet and she looks down.

“What is it?”

“I don’t like the answer to the question.”

“Then I really want it.”

She takes a sharp breath. “When I was eighteen. And I went to set your barn on fire. And you… Stopped me. It was very physical and…”

I stare at her, my cock going hard in my jeans, in spite of what we just did. “That did it?”