A month flew by, and D/s relationship between Master Ethan and his beautiful sub, Ivy, transformed into a deeper and emotional bond.
A few days after the stipulated month when they decided to continue their relationship, Ivy was down with the terrible flu. Sickness overtook her body, rendering her helpless. But sometimes, blessings come in disguise. Throughout the tenacious long month of her illness, the consistent care of Master Ethan left her speechless.
Her master was more of a lover who cared so deeply for her that she could not fathom.
“What did I tell you about coming downstairs?” the firm voice startled Ivy as she quickly whirled around.
Donning a dark charcoal dress shirt and slacks, Master Ethan stood across the kitchen aisle with his arms crossed over his broad chest. The man enthralled her in every way possible.
Setting the wooden spoon aside, she hurried over to stand before him. “I am well recovered now,” she assured him. “In fact, I feel amazing.”
He nodded slowly, acknowledging her recovery. A measured smile appeared at the corner of his mouth while his hands closed around her nape, giving a playful yank at her newly grown length of hair. “Perhaps, you are feeling a little too amazing, aren’t you, sub?”
A bold flush of color returned to her cheeks as she dropped herself to kneel before her master’s feet. Knelt with her knees spread apart, hands clasped behind, and head bowed—she whispered breathily, “I am sorry, Master.”
He gently patted her head, stroking the rather short glossy chestnut hair. Two months ago, when he chopped off her long mane into a feminine bowl cut—Ivy was surprised and thrilled. Despite the overbearing change, she accepted the way he wanted her to look.
And right now, her hair has a shaggy growth. The tresses grew quite rapidly—a familial trait she’d inherited from her father.
“Stand up, Ivy,” he ordered in a soft voice.
Large palms cupped and weighed her breasts, gently dragging her into a submissive headspace. Ivy gently leaned into him, begging for more of his touch. She was aching to serve him.
“Greedy little sub,” he chastised playfully and pinched the nipples hard. “I have half a mind to redden your arse.”
“Please,” she begged wantonly.
A sinister chuckled rumbled out from his throat. “If we are to resume the lifestyle, I’d take it slow, little sub. I would hate to tire you out.”
Disappointment washed over her features, but she kept quiet.
“My regular stylist would be here for my monthly grooming in ten minutes. I expect your presence in the room—upstairs to the left—kneeling beside my chair. You may keep your clothes on.”
Ivy slightly glanced up through her eyelashes. Ethan’s hair, too, was unkempt more than he’d ordinarily allowed.
“Yes, Master.”
“But before that,” he paused and fished out something out of his pocket. A thin strip of leather with a rose gold shine with a small golden ring attached to it. He tied it around her neck, checking the tightness. “I’d collar you later—with a ceremony. But for now, I want you wearing this.”
Ivy gave him a grateful smile, her heart leaping with joy. “Thank you, Master.”
She headed upstairs to the room where she knelt by the big barber chair with footrest and chrome handles and awaited her master. An array of scissors, combs, clippers, and a cape was also arranged on the wooden table. Approximately fifteen minutes later, she heard a shuffle of approaching footsteps and quickly straightened her spine.
Ethan slowly sauntered over to her, with another man on his heels. “Adam, this is my sub, Ivy,” he introduced.
But he didn’t address Ivy at all, which meant she was to keep quiet unless told otherwise.
“Your sub is a beauty, Sir,” the man, Adam, said in his thick accent.
Ethan sat himself down on the chair and replied, “I couldn’t agree more. Let’s get on with this now.”
“Yes, Sir,” Adam said and swiftly flung a cape around Ethan to get him to prepare for the much-needed haircut.
Ivy mutely knelt and watched how Ethan could exert his power and dominance like an extension of his personality, not only over her but over everyone around him.
“Sir, do you want the usual short and neat?” Adam asked.
“Yes, please.” Manners were never lost on him.
The barber picked up the comb and scissors and began snipping the length off the collar and around the ears. Dirty blond snippets rained everywhere on the floor. Once he was satisfied, he picked up the clippers and turned it on.
Ivy could hardly keep her excitement in control. And suddenly she longed for the Clippers and yearned for the helplessness at the mercy of her Master.
Adam held Ethan’s bowed head in one hand and ran the clippers up the nape. Shorn locks kept sliding down the cape, leaving behind a thin pelt of hair at the back.
