Serving Panther
When selfless service leads to even deeper bliss
Panther’s call cuts through everything: even the sensual dream about how you give me a spine-tingling orgasm in our favourite approach. Or is it that my service to him is so deeply ingrained by now that I would even hear it in the middle of a fire alarm?
I suppress a groan as I swing my legs out of bed and almost stumble from the room. I know I can’t keep him waiting, even if sleep still clings to my joints.
Dutifully, I bow to him as he sits there, all regal. His fierce stare pierces me — no need to utter another command. We both know my task and what will happen if I do not accomplish it perfectly.
I suppress a sigh and pad into the kitchen. I keep my eye on my job to prepare his breakfast to the high standards expected. I know he is watching my every move as well as … I shake myself and refuse to let my mind take my eyes off my chores.
The utensils carefully cleared away, and I turn, cradling his bowl between my palms. Measured steps carry it over to his place. My eyes are downcast as trained.
“Enjoy your breakfast,” I say, ensuring it sounds honest yet acknowledges my serving rank. I set the bowl down, step back the obligatory four steps and kneel.
