Kari trailed her owner in silence, sticking to his shadow as they made their way into the compound. Her steps were steady and measured, her lips set in a blank, accommodating smile. It was a face she'd worn many times before, the expression of a compliant slut thinking of nothing but following her orders. There was no way Leurre would notice that this time was different; that her dull eyes weren't pools of placid water, but rather storm clouds threatening to break.
Something was wrong—that much was clear. But the source of that wrongness remained maddeningly elusive. Was it Sean's fault for disturbing her training? Or was it the nature of her training that was disturbing her? Neither possibility seemed appealing, and yet both tugged incessantly at her mind, making her feel as though she was walking a tightrope, bare feet nearly slipping with every step.
Who should she trust? Her owner? Or her friend?
Leurre stopped in front of a door, his expectant gaze bringing Kari to a halt. She stood at attention, the chaos of her thoughts quieting, stifled by instinctual deference to his authority. She'd been thinking too much; sluts didn't need to think. They only needed to follow orders.
Right?
Following her owner's lead, Kari entered the room, only to slow as she recognized her surroundings. When Leurre had mentioned needing to discuss something, she'd assumed his office would be their destination. Instead, it seemed he'd brought her to one of the common rooms, featuring a set of luxury lounge furniture arranged around a massive media center.
Puzzled, but knowing better than to asks questions, Kari waited as her owner settled on one of the couches. He gestured to a nearby armchair. Across its back lay a dry towel, on the seat a change of clothes.
Or, more specifically, a frilly, lacey maid uniform.
Kari swallowed, warm anticipation coiling inside of her. She glanced at Leurre, receiving a subtle nod in reply. Gliding towards the waiting garments, she peeled the soaked tee and thong from her water-slicked skin, tossing back her dark hair as she reached for the towel.
Her owner didn't say a word; he didn't need to. He'd trained her well, and she knew her place; knew to draw the soft cotton cloth just so around her curves; knew to arch her back and knead her breasts; knew to cast an inviting look over her shoulder, just in case he wanted to become more...involved in the process.
Leurre shook his head.
Not yet,
his eyes said.
Continue
.
Kari obeyed, turning her attention to the neatly folded uniform. Soon after, the blushing slut realized that "uniform" was too generous a word. The top was little more than a frilly frame around her tits, the ruffly skirt barely long enough to reach past her pussy. All in all, it wasn't so much an outfit as maid-themed fetish gear.
Which was to say: it was perfect.
Kari's skin tingled as she awaited her owner's appraisal. Yet as his gaze swept up the stiff pink peaks of her nipples and down the sheer stockings squishing her thighs, she found herself strangely nervous. There was something...off in the way he was looking at her, a shadow behind his eyes that she hadn't noticed before.
But that couldn't be. Why would he be looking at her any differently than usual? Unless...this was how it always went. And it was only now that she was noticing...
"Position S," he suddenly commanded.
Without thinking, the obedient slut lifted her skirt, daintily presenting her glistening sex. Leurre nodded, smiling at what he saw. Kari felt her face turn scarlet. A fresh dribble of arousal leaked down her leg.
"Position A," he uttered.
Instantly, Kari lowered to her knees, head bowed and hands folded on her lap.
"Open."
Her chin lifted, lips parting and tongue lolling out, already slick with saliva and ready to be used. Yet Leurre remained seated, considering her with that same, searching expression.
What was happening? Hadn't he brought her in here to discuss something? Why were they practicing her positions now?
I need to train
, something insider her said.
Good sluts love to be trained.
As if responding to her thoughts, her owner chuckled. "Good girl," he said.
Warm, blissful approval throbbed inside Kari, squeezing a soft moan from her mouth.
"Position D."
Kari rose, facing away from her owner. She bent over, flipping her skirt up and resting her hands on the coffee table, giving her exposed ass and pussy an inviting wiggle. She could hear the deepening lust in Leurre's breath, could feel his stare like a phantom touch. Wanting her. Claiming her. She shivered, her pulse quickening.
Maybe he didn't want to discuss something after all. Maybe he just wanted a little show. That was fine, wasn't it? After all the thinking she'd done, it was kind of nice to just let herself sink into a familiar rhythm, her cares and concerns drifting away beneath the steady beat of her owner's voice, his words drawing her around the room, posing and presenting her at every possible angle.
"Good girl. Position K."
Kari leaned against a wall and lifted one leg high, her legs forming an almost perfect line of soft, shivering flesh. A glow of pride suffused her dimming thoughts. Before her training, she never would've thought she could be this flexible.
Before her training...
Before her training, she never...would've...
"Position B."
Kari stumbled a little as she righted herself, a strange static shimmering in her head. Still, the faithful slut did as commanded, sinking to her knees beside Leurre, like a pet settling next to its owner. She stiffened when his hand rested on her head, then melted as his fingers stroked her hair, a faint, grateful whimper leaking from her throat.
"Okay, slut." He sighed, lifting a tablet from the nearby end table. "We need to talk."
Talk? A vague memory wafted through the haze. That's right—they'd come here to discuss something. After...after Sean had...
"Well, to be more accurate," he continued, "I need to talk. All you need to do is listen."
