Chapter 2: Song of the New Day
Light poured in through George's bedroom window and splashed directly across his face. He had tried to fight the growing realization that he was awake by covering himself with a pillow and willing himself back into a dream with Dawn. But he eventually gave up, and picked himself up off the bed. He looked around hopefully, but she was no where to be found. The mood enhancing candles and furnishings were gone, and back were his normal every day, run-of-the-mill stuff. His clothing piled out of his closet, and his various knick-knacks and books were strewn about the floor like usual.
He let out a heavy sigh as he lay back on his bed. Just the night before, he had experienced a dream so vivid that he was uncertain it was actually a dream. He dreamed of a beauty created just for him, who could grant him any sexual wish he could imagine. He had named her Dawn.
But Dawn was gone, as was any evidence that she had ever been there. He felt a sudden sense of loss as he remembered the things she had said to him in her sweet breathy voice. She had told him it was her purpose to love him unconditionally, to make all his dreams come true.
The realization that she didn't exist made him tear up. But then he felt very pathetic laying there, trying to hold on to a dream. He chastised himself for letting his fantasies get the better of him. But even still, it was the best dream he ever had.
Seeing that it was getting to be two in the afternoon, George got up and strode to the bathroom. He paused, something was not right. He suddenly realized that he was completely naked. George never went to sleep naked. He had always been a sweat pants and t-shirt kind of guy.
He stood their confused for a moment before his self-consciousness took over and he felt compelled to clothe himself. He looked around for something clean to wear, which was no easy feat, when he caught his reflection in the mirror over his dresser. His eye, which had been so whimsically healed by Dawn in his dream, had not gone back to the puffy shiner that Rocko had left him.
Then he heard something coming from downstairs. It sounded like someone was singing. He thought that it could be his mother, but she wasn't supposed to be home until Monday. He reached for a pair of old gray sweat pants and threw them on along with a dark blue t-shirt. He crept out of his room to find the source of the music.
He proceeded quietly down the stairs as he followed the song. It was soft and serene, almost ethereal. He couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't actually hearing it. He thought he could feel it, like it was echoing through his mind. There were no words, they couldn't have done the voice justice.
He reached the living room and the source of the song. What he saw stopped him dead in his tracks. There, in the far corner of the room next to an old cabinet, was Dawn. She was examining the various photos that covered the top of the cabinet as she sang happily to herself.
She was wearing one of George's white formal dress shirts, which was much too big for her. The sleeves hung down past her delicate fingers and the collar encompassed both her slender neck and her bare right shoulder. Below, she wore a pair of George's boxers which she had rolled up to be as tight as possible across her perfect, heart-shaped bottom. Further down was a pair of long socks pulled up to her knees with two blue bands around the top.
Dawn continued to sing, oblivious to George's presence. She bent forward at the waist to pick up a framed picture, her hands still inside the over-sized sleeves. Her hair fell forward and she brushed it behind her ear with a single graceful movement. She gazed at the photo wistfully as she sang.
Just like she had the first time George saw her, she managed to leave him completely speechless. He could only observe as his perfect woman examined her surroundings serenely. The notion occurred to him that he should get out of there. He still couldn't believe she was real, his mind couldn't grasp the concept. He thought that maybe he was going crazy.
He didn't know what to do, but he could only imagine how awkward it would be if she turned and found him there staring at her. He moved to go back upstairs so that he could think about what to do next, when he bumped into a lamp sitting on an end table. George reacted quickly to catch it but it still made a tremendous amount of noise as the lampshade crumpled in his large hands. He looked over at Dawn like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. She met his nervous gaze with a happy smile on her pretty face.
"I uh, I wasn't listening or anything," he stammered, "I was just um, on my way to the kitc..."
Before he could finish, Dawn had bounded across the room and flung her arms around him. She caught George completely off-guard, and knocked him on his back with a loud crash. She landed on top of him and kissed him deeply. Her bright, honey colored hair fell around him, and her sleeve encased hands rest on his shoulders. George couldn't think, he could no longer hear that voice inside him that told him to be cautious and timid. He could only hold her tightly and kiss her back.
Eventually, she broke from the kiss and looked at him with her happy, unguarded eyes, "Good mor... I mean afternoon Master."
He was still reeling from all that had transpired. "Are... are you real?" he pleaded.
She gave him another sweet kiss, "This feels real to me, Master."
"Yeah, but are you really real, and not some dream?" said George.
She tilted her head and smiled in amusement, "I suppose I am a dream in one sense. I was created to your specifications to be everything you need in a partner, and those specifications were taken from your subconscious. But beyond that, I am very much flesh and blood, just like you."
He let out a sigh and sat up so that she was sitting on his lap, "I'm sorry, that wasn't what I meant..."
"You mean, am I going to disappear and leave you all alone?" she finished. George nodded, his eyes downcast. "No Master. Unless you wish it, I will never keep my heart from you."
He nodded. Still unsure of how he was going to handle her. "Alright, Dawn. And, you can call me George."
"I am sorry Ma... I mean George," she rolled her eyes at her blunder. "It is just that, calling a Master by name goes against my subservient nature. Names have power, and by giving me permission to use your name you are allowing me a certain amount of freedom beyond what is typically acceptable between a master and slave."
"Do you really believe that you are a slave?" he asked.
"Well, I admit that you do not treat me like a slave. But the magic that binds me to you demands that I always be ready to follow your every command. And when I use your name I feel like I am your equal rather than your servant."
George could tell that she was a bit distressed over the subject of where they stood with each other. He wasn't sure where this relationship was going, but he was certain that he didn't want her to be his slave. To George, that would make him no better than a guy like Rocko.
He pulled her close to him and hugged her tightly. Listen to me Dawn," he said as he stroked her silky hair, "I've never wanted a slave. I am no more a Master of you, than you are of me. if you really aren't going to disappear..."
"I will not," she said quickly.
"I believe you," he amended, "Then our relationship is going to have to be way more than you fulfilling all of my sexual wishes. I'm sorry if I'm not cooperating with your whole master/slave thing, but I couldn't live with myself if I treated you that way. So, please call me George. And when that nagging voice inside says that you don't deserve to, ignore it, because it's wrong. Okay?"
Dawn didn't answer, she just buried her face in his neck. He could feel her breathing become labored and the collar of his shirt dampen. She was crying again. He held her even tighter. He wanted to say something that would put the issue to rest, but he could think of nothing. Instead, he focused on her weight on top of him and the wonderful feeling of the two of them together.
Finally, he heard her say something, but it was too muffled for him to understand it. "What did you say, Dawn?" he asked.
Dawn pulled away a little so that she could look at him. He understood what she had said immediately, it was written all over her face. She loved him. Her eyes, the colors of a sunrise, spoke volumes. They were slightly puffy from her tears, but that didn't make her any less beautiful, or their meaning any less sincere.
She began to vocalize what her eyes had already told him, but he stopped her. He was afraid that her feelings were being coerced by the magical attachments between them. "Wait Dawn, don't say it."
"Why not?" she whispered.
"I... I don't know. I'm just... not ready for that."
She looked down and nodded. "Very well. Um... would it be alright if I called you Master on occasion? I know that I will have trouble remembering to call you George."
"I don't really mind if you call me Master, I just don't want you to feel like you have to. How about this, you can call me George in public or when we are just talking, but if you want to call me Master in private, you can do that too."
"Aww, you are not making this easy on me, George," she whined.
He shrugged. "Sorry, this is kinda new for me. It's not everyday that a beautiful woman wants to call me Master."
She gave him a sudden quick kiss.
George couldn't suppress a grin. "What was that for," he asked.
"That was for telling me that you think I am beautiful. And for your benevolence. You are unlike any master I have ever heard of."
He scratched his head nervously, "I guess. I mean, it's no big deal, really."
"As you say. I appreciate your kindness, nonetheless."
