The definition of home is "a familiar or usual setting." At least, one of the definitions. This one works for where I'm going. See, being a world traveler, I don't get to have a lot of time in one space. I'm usually off and away to some random meeting because people refuse to conduct business correctly. So, when that happens in a business, any business, I am called in. I'm a consultant for employee morale, but I work freelance and have considerable connections. It's a lucky career. All I have to do is rationalize why a company should switch kinds of paper, or whatever asinine problem was at the root of the situation. But against all logic, I had two days to myself. Of course, a long flight is not helpful to my limited free time, but it's a smaller handicap.
Soon enough, I had pulled up in front of my New York home. Suburban and luxurious, the house was a very bizarre looking thing. An amateur architect was looking for exposure, having a really remarkable idea, and would do anything to get it. To my surprise, he meant it. I didn't even have to repeat the demand. With pleasure, he literally kissed my ass, then...well, never mind. He was already of the disposition necessary to enjoy what we did, though. The result was a gorgeous two story hovel, with one way mirror windows and knock proof doors, a three car garage, and the aura of independent luxury.
Today was special for someone else, though. I don't live alone. My house is too precious to me to leave it unattended, but I didn't trust strangers. Back when I was in the office all the time and not on the field, my secretary and I formed a very special bond. The kind of bond that comes from several hours of alone time many days a week. She was struggling, though, as the higher-ups weren't able to take up their frustration on me, and instead tried to hurt her. So I offered her a way out: A joint bank account, and a place to live, but she has to live at my house. She accepted just as quickly as the architect. Now, this isn't to imply she's reliant on me. She has a boyfriend and hobbies, and is starting to grow a bustling art career, thanks to openings I can give her. She's told me I'm her best friend, and I've come to see her the same way, even if we are a little more physical.
Pulling up to the house, I was excited too. I could only imagine what was going through my pet's mind. I stopped the car, sliding out the door and slamming the door loud enough for her to hear. Hopefully. I straightened out my business attire, coat and skirt matching and looking delicious. I've always found the dom in business attire the most attractive, because it says that you're not even important enough for them to get comfortable. I got my duffel bags from the sleek silver convertible's trunk, slamming it as well, and moving to the door, heels clacking on the concrete. I barely set my foot on the doormat, before the door opened.
And there was my pretty little pet. Shimmering brown hair with sleepy brown eyes, and oval glasses with a modern curve. Modern as in it curved perfectly, not modern as in "we're all back to super boxy glasses." She stood there with a small little smirk- her thing- and a hand on her squeezable hips. She'd gotten something special for me; a sheer chemise, down to her thighs that barely hid her cute body. I could see just how excited she was just by how her nipples were sticking straight out. She reached out her dainty little hand, and took the lighter bag, turning away. "I thought you'd forgotten about me, my Queen."
"Never, pet." I followed her, watching her walk. She had this confident little sway when I was around, her panties thronging. "Although I'm disappointed that you're even wearing panties...did you get that for me or for him?" She set the bag under the desk, where it should go, and turned back to me. "The both of you." I moved close, pressing her against the desk, and set the bag underneath. "Then I'll pretend it's for me. Now come here." We moved simultaneously, and kissed with the sort of passion that is made for terrible romance novels, only with me as the man. She cooed at me, and I pulled back.
My good little pet, she recovered quickly. She unbuttoned my coat, slowly, and I let it drop. She took it, and walked to the coat rack, then the door, closing it. I headed off to the couch, smiling to myself. She's always been this obedient, ever since I opened up to her. She said it was a side of herself she loved, and that was enough for me to accommodate. Besides, look at her! She's cute as a button, and more than capable in bed. I crossed my legs, and my pet wordlessly approached, laying across my lap and getting comfortable. I have to admit, I did feel the same kind of peace that comes with a cat coming to give love, and it wasn't so different.
Inside the house was just as unique as the outside. Most of the walls were curved instead of flat wall leading to a flat roof. The ceiling was painted with a sort of impressionist sky, a ceiling light at where the sun was. It was a weak UV light, so it did feel like sunlight. It's mostly for couch naps when the sun's not out, since sleeping in the sunlight is always better than just sleeping. The ceiling on the whole first floor is like that, but in the master bedroom and my wardrobe- or the second floor, in other words- the rooms are more normal, more standard and cream colored. The guest bedroom was similar, with just 'cozy' in mind compared to the expressionism in the rest of the house.
My pet snapped me out of my little trance, shifting around. She was so cute...I started petting her, softly, rubbing her side with one hand. She smiled and pressed into it, sighing softly and making a noise not that much unlike a purr. It's a habit for her. I looked her over, smiling and continuing to stroke her side. She was starting to goosebumps, and I was having a pretty good time. My eyes scanned her, and once I got to the cute little ass of hers, my brows raised, a string hanging out of her panties. I remembered the orders I gave her before I left; get up to five anal beads. And there's the string for the beads I gave her. I looked back to her, and she was smiling at me.
"What...did you think I wouldn't?"
I smiled, sincerely, and patted her hips.
"I knew you would. It's just nice to see."
She shifts a little, smiling proudly. "I'm wearin' something else, too."
"Oh yeah? What is it, pet?"
"That clit vibrator you sent for came while you were gone."
I could only grin, as she raised, grinning back.
"I'll go get the remote.
As she left, I stood up, and moved quickly, downing my skirt and panties and crossing my legs quickly. Sure enough, she came back with this red little remote control, and had the same thought I did, her chemise probably on the floor somewhere. I sat up a little, and she came closer, holding out the remote. I reached up, and tightly tweaked one of her nipples, making her jump and squeak so cutely. I took the remote, then spread my legs.
"Eat."
"Yes, my queen."
