Chapter 10: Owner

That night, I led Sammy into Master’s bedroom. Our bedroom, now. Funny, I never thought of it as mine, nor did I even want to, but now that Sammy was here, I could think of it as ours.

Master was asleep, and I guess he was exhausted as the babysitter said her good-byes to him. I saw her walk out with close to forty thousand dollars, so she better have been good. I showed Sammy my closet and how to get our blanket. I noticed my uniforms were all replaced with ones made from silk in two sizes, each smaller one the exact mirror of a larger one, all in lovely Japanese styles. I also noticed a few silk pillows, and even a couple of paper dividers with floral patterns on them. Master has great taste.

Sammy followed me with the blanket. When I indicated our place on the floor, Sammy made a gesture with her hands, holding them far apart and moving them from side to side to up and down.

“English,” I whispered. Sammy was in an immersion environment. She was not to take short cuts.

“Uh ... privacy?” she whispered.

“The divider?” I responded, also whispering.

Sammy nodded. I was going to have to make her learn to express herself verbally. I put my finger to her pussy, and found her clit. I started to rub and then took my finger away, crossing my hands in front of me and opening them, indicating that her nod was going to cost her any orgasms tonight.

“Yes, Mistress.” She did not look happy.

“I am not your Mistress. You may call me bedroom names if you wish.”

“Yes ... Sumo.”

I nearly burst into laughter. Perhaps Master would let me tell her the story about Lady Rambo, but I really liked Sammy’s name for me. I knew she didn’t mean to imply I was overweight.

I kissed Sammy on the lips and held her close. “I love you Sammy, but I’ve already set out your punishment.”

Sammy nodded, and then she quickly added, “Yes, Sumo.” She wasn’t happy, but the fact she corrected her nod told me she was learning.

I then tiptoed to my little dresser, and found my old friend. I inserted it into my butt. I wasn’t sure if my body was still on Japan time and didn’t want to miss breakfast. It would be Sammy’s first chance to learn how to cook in an American kitchen.

I found Sammy laying contentedly on the blanket. I curled up behind her, kissing her ears and neck, and I reached around and flicked her cute little nipples that were nearly always as hard as a rock.

After a few moments, Sammy spun around so we were face to face. She kissed me on the lips, and our breasts started to rub together.

If she brings me or herself to orgasm, she is going to get a spanking tomorrow morning, I thought to myself. Maybe she thinks it would be worth it. If I were her, I wouldn’t look forward to a spanking from Lady Sumo.

I woke up to the hum of my anal dildo. It wasn’t as much as a shock as I remembered it to be. I got up, waking Sammy in the process.

I was not able to perform my morning ritual since I left for Japan, and I missed it. Master rarely urinated in my mouth anymore, and somehow, I longed for those old days. Not for the humiliation or the disgusting taste of his piss, but for how it kept reminding me of my place in the household, and it wasn’t a very high place.

I was collared and Master’s slave. That didn’t afford me a very high place, even in the house. Now he called me his Peanut. He was starting to show a tiny bit of affection toward me. Don’t get me wrong. I love the tingles I get as he calls me that name. However, such things could make me get lazy and start to think I might be special. I wasn’t, and I searched out ways to constantly remind me of my status and not say or do anything outside my appointed role.

The only roles that gave me any status are with Shirley as her mother, and Sammy as her owner. In all other ways, I was at the bottom of the heap, the place I sought.

This morning, I let Sammy do the honors with Master, despite my body nearly aching with the desire for and need of my Master’s nectar.

As Sammy took Master’s cock in her mouth, I spread her legs and stuck my tongue in her asshole. The whore on the shuttle didn’t have any idea of how much of an honor it is to merely lick Sammy’s asshole!

“My, my. What have we here?”

“It is my honor to be giving Master his morning blow job,” Sammy said, her words precise and measured as if she practiced them over and over.

I gave her clit a sweep of my tongue in appreciation of her getting it right. She wiggled back in response. You cannot punish if you don’t reward. As a good little whore, I knew that to my core.

“That’s nice,” Master said, “only I am not your Master.”

“You are Sumo’s Master. That makes you our Master.”

That Sumo bit earned her a butterfly kiss on the clit. Just one, to let her know I heard her.

“Sumo, eh?” Master chuckled. “That’s better than Rambo.”

I don’t think Sammy got the reference, but I felt the rhythmic bobbing that told me she was back to work on Master’s cock.

If Sammy was as good with a cock as she was with a pussy, I was going to have to learn a lot a new tricks to keep Master interested in me. That didn’t scare me. In fact, it provided me with some incentive to improve. Just a week before, Master telling me that I needed to improve made me angry and humiliated. Now, I saw it as an incentive. Was that the collar talking, or was my mind really changing? I didn’t know, but I knew that being angry all the time about the collar and my situation wasn’t helpful or even healthy. I remember telling Jessica, the new whore, to accept her situation. It seemed as if I was practicing what I preached.

Today was going to be a long day: taking Shirley to school, taking Sammy to the clinic, teaching Sammy to cook, and as many opportunities to spend some intimate time with Sammy, Master, and both. Then there was my exercise regimen. Sometimes, there didn’t seem to be enough hours in a day! If you notice, I didn’t slot any time for feeling sorry for myself!

My only experience with a threesome was with Sammy that last full day in Japan, and this morning in bed didn’t count because I knew I would not be interacting with Master this time. This was Sammy’s formal introduction to Master. They may have interacted in the past, but this was her first time in service with me, and I was only there only for moral support.

Somehow, Sammy managed to get and keep Master on the edge for nearly forty-five minutes without him reaching his orgasm. By now, I knew all of Master’s tells, and learned to react. When he was near orgasm, I usually pulled out the stops and tried to make it a nice one for him. Sammy didn’t seem to do that. Instead, she played him like a virtuoso, the same she did with me that first time I sat in that restaurant in Tokyo with Sammy between my legs.

Boy, was I going to have to learn a lot if I was to remain Master’s favorite slave. However, I knew that the lessons were going to be fun!

I didn’t tell Sammy that the morning activity lasted exactly sixty minutes. However, she finally let him over the edge at about fifty-five minutes. I could feel his body twitch even from my position behind Sammy. For a moment, I envied Sammy getting Master’s nectar, but I knew I’d get my chance later.

Master gave both Sammy and me an affectionate pat on the head, and after he left, Sammy turned to me and kissed me. As she did so, she rolled me onto my back, and when our tongues kissed each other, I could taste the full load Sammy saved for me.

I nearly cried when she released our Master’s seed into my hungry mouth. I swallowed just a little, and then returned the rest to Sammy. After all, this was her first mouthful of Master since she was added into our family.

She accepted it from me, and swallowed. Then she rubbed her nipples against my body, her hard little nubs against mine, which were hypersensitive now that I experienced Master’s second-hand cum.

You want to know something? I bet Sammy could make me orgasm just by us rubbing our nipples together. I never experienced such an orgasm in my life, and until I met Sammy, I would never have thought it possible.

My breakfast buzzer went off, and I led Sammy through the house, both of us naked. I knew there would be uniforms for us in the kitchen so we’d be presentable when we were serving with Shirley in the dining room.

In the kitchen, it appeared that Master wanted steak and eggs. This was a new breakfast choice, and I showed Sammy how the manual controls worked. I took out a grill pan, some butter, and four eggs (two for Master, one each for Sammy and Shirley).

“Where is your meal?”

“My meal is vegan,” I said, not wanting to explain the mush. She’d see it soon enough. “We finish this first.”

“May I use the console?”

“Sure.”

Sammy didn’t follow any links. Instead, she called up some spices and something called ghee from the pantry. The ghee needed to be amazoned, but it arrived just a minute or so later. The butter was gone from the products, replaced with a jar with what appeared to be margarine. I knew Master didn’t like margarine, but I trusted Sammy’s instincts.

In addition to the ghee, there was ginger, garlic, and honey. There was also something called Tamari sauce. She started to make a marinade for the steak.

“Peel garlic. I’ll peel ginger.”

I decided that this wasn’t broken English, although I could have interpreted it that way.

Sammy used the paring knife to remove the skin from the ginger, exposing a whitish green root. Then she used the side of her knife and pounded the ginger with her fist on the side of her knife, separating the shreds of the ginger with her fingers, then she diced it into smaller pieces.

I smiled and showed Sammy that I knew the same trick, pulverizing the garlic in a similar way, the outer papers easy to remove that way.

We added the herbs to the marinade, and then Sammy told me to pour the honey into it, allowing it to thicken by using a hand whisk over a very low heat source.

Finally, she marinated the meat for about ten minutes.

I was looking at the clock. We didn’t have much time before Master expected breakfast.

“Don’t worry,” Sammy said, noticing my glance.

She took the meat out of the marinade and placed it on a cast iron grill pan that was already heating on the stove with some melted ghee on it. I took a sniff at the ghee, and it smelled almost exactly the same as butter.

“Ghee is made from butter.” She looked at the readout on the console. “No milk so-lids” she read. “Cla ... clar-if-ied.”

“Clarified. It’s still not vegan,” I said, smiling. “You can have that. My vegan meal will be done later.”

I let Sammy to tend the steak, while I took care of the eggs. I took out my usual pan for frying the eggs, and at Sammy’s urging, used ghee instead of the butter I usually used. The ghee looked golden when it was melted. It was also fragrant, and didn’t have a tendency to burn the way butter did. I fried up the eggs and they came out perfect.

Meanwhile, Sammy seared both sides of the steak and then put the entire grill pan into the oven for the steak to finish.

Returning to the console, Sammy called up some fresh parsley, a carrot, and a few radishes. She took the paring knife and started to carve.