The next morning...

You wake up in a soft comforter, sun shining through big windows, and you need a few moments to orientate yourself. You don't remember how you got into the bed. You don't even remember much from last evening. Just bits and pieces, flashes of memory. You certainly remember that it was VERY intense and... really, really good. {if Spanked = true}You shift around in the soft bed, and the slight change of position is enough to send slight waves of pain through your body. Your bum is still bruised, and it hurts like hell. You will have to be careful when sitting today. A very biting reminder and proof that those memories are real and not some kind of dream.{else} There is one very strong piece of memory, though: The moment when Steve had you in total control of your orgasm. How he was basically able to make you cum or deny you just with his words.

The thought alone is enough to send you back to last evening and shudder in excitement. Suddenly your fingers are at your clit, teasing yourself. Your head sinks back into the soft, white pillows, you close your eyes, and a moan escapes your lips. You are back in that room from yesterday, being dominated by that man. You feel a climax building in your body... and you suddenly remember how Steve forbade you to cum without his permission. Your fingers stop as if they have developed a will of their own. Your mind races. Surely that was just part of the game yesterday, right? It can't still be true this morning. But what if...? You bite your lips, **** yourself to lift your hands from your crotch, inhaling deeply a few times. Deep breaths. You slowly feel your climax recede. Then you open your eyes. There's a tingling sensation in your nether region. It takes all the willpower you can muster to get out of bed.{endif}

As you set your foot into a fluffy carpet, you take a look around. The room looks normal. Almost too mundane for what happened here in this house yesterday. You expected to wake up in a dungeon or at least in a room with bars. You slip into some slippers and a dressing gown which hangs from the wall. The door leads you into a corridor, where you follow the smell of coffee.

Two rooms later, you arrive at a rather spacious living room, where Steve eats breakfast on a big, round table. He looks... normal. Neither frightening nor authorative. Just an ordinary older man. Charming, even. You nod to him: "Good morning", you say, and then add a quick: "Master!", but Steve's eyes just blink and laugh.

"Drop the 'Master'", he says and waves you over to sit at the table. "That's for playing sessions. This here is breakfast. Have a seat!"{if Spanked = true} You wince, as you sit down on your bruised butt, prompting a chuckle from Steve. "That was quite a spanking I got you there", he says. "Do you need some ointment? I should get you some..." He starts to rise, but you shake your head. "Later", you answer. "I am alright. I think." Steve chuckles again and stays put." {endif} You cast a quick glance over the table and see quite the variety of dishes: Toast, cereals, fruits, bagels... You help yourself to a toast and start eating. You are hungry, indeed. Last night's events have been quite exhausting for your body.

"You are different", you remark.

Steve nods, chewing. "I am, aren't I?", he says. "I get a bit carried away at those sessions. I really, really delve into it. That's how it should be, you have to embrace those moments, but... that's not the real me. Or not... completely." He shakes his head as if there was something else he wanted to say but can't really gather the words.

You drink from the orange juice, pondering his words.

"I sometimes think I am getting more radical as I age, though", Steve continues, as if talking to himself. "The sessions with my playmates have become much longer and much more intense." He bites into a bagel. "I don't recall having these nice pleasent breakfasts like this one very often anymore. That's... actually, that's weird."

He shakes his head, in thoughts.

"So there are a lot of women like me, who you invite over?", you ask. You shouldn't be asking these kind of questions, you think, but somehow, you don't even care. Steve seems - friendly. Trustworthy. Not like the authoritarian man from last night. He seems like somebody who is well aware of what he's doing and how and why. Although he also seems... distracted?

"There didn't used to be", Steve replies, slowly, and his face turns into a frown. "I remember I was more interested in long term relationships. But somehow... since... since... some time... my taste seems to have changed. Yes... and I wake up with a different woman every morning." His face turns sour, as if the mere thought somehow disgusts him.

You frown.

"Is everything alright?", you ask him.

He blinks, and shakes his head. "Somehow I... I am not sure. Somehow, this morning, I seem to have woken up from something. My mind feels clear. And I wonder..."

A woman steps into the living room, balancing a tray with fresh coffee on her arm. She has Asian features and she's wearing a maid's outfit, with apron and bonnet. A Happy Maid.

"Coffee, sir", she says demurely, and places the steaming pot on the table. Steve smiles, nods a thank you, and helps himself to some coffee.