Trust Me | MxM | BDSM

6. The Morning After

I would've loved to just sleep in, but Mike is very diligent, very active. He needs to keep in shape, after all, or men like Gavrilo Kemp wouldn't spare him a second glance. Also, my therapist always emphasized how important my daily workouts and fresh food are for my mental health. Although I haven't seen the shrink since I became Mike, his preachings have stuck. Kind of to be expected since I've been seeing the guy since I was fifteen - after I moved in with dad.

Remembering that part of my life does no good, and it's not of any importance to Mike anyways, so I stop, same as always. The morning work out helps clear my mind. I run for a good thirty minutes, then lift some weights before I start stretching. After a cold shower, I cut up some fruits and down a protein shake that I mixed some chia seeds into, and about half an hour later, my fitness is preserved.

With a couple hours left, I do some household work, shop for groceries, and finally, with nothing left to do, succumb to the boredom. I turn on some Netflix show that totally doesn't interest me but am unable to really submerge myself. A good book might help, yet there aren't many around and I've read them like ten times already anyways. Mike's not the type to read, and literally all of his salary is lost on my food.

Therefore, I practically jump at my phone the moment it vibrates, eager for something to focus my mind on. There's an instant pulling at my groin when I see Gavrilo's name pop up on the screen; Ken gave me his number last night. Now, sex, that would be a way to keep myself busy that I'd enjoy.

'Good Morning, Mike. How are you today? I enjoyed our evening together and would be pleased if you came to my place tonight. My driver can pick you up whenever you are ready. I await a reply within an hour.'

I debate on waiting for a little before messaging back, just so he can wonder a bit about what I'm going to say. Also, I don't think he'll be excited when reading my text. My boredom gets the better of me, though, so I quickly type away on my phone.

'Dear Master Kemp, I am very well, thank you for asking. I hope you are feeling great, too, and if not, I would hope to change that. I am working late tonight, though. I might not get off work until past midnight. It would be my pleasure to serve you afterwards.'

He doesn't reply for a good ten minutes though he obviously read the message; the app gives that information away. I stare at my phone apprehensively, waiting with the patience of someone who's got nothing better to do. My heart lifts when I see a small pen scribbling next to his name.

'That is indeed unfortunate but can't be helped. Message me the address, my driver will pick you up. We have to check your work schedule and see how we can work around it.'

God, I'd love to tell him that I'll hand in my resignation right away. Then I can spend more time with him, which equals more opportunities to get this job done. It would also enable him to screw me whenever he wanted, preferably right now. After texting him my address, I toss my phone onto the couch and enjoy some happy minutes with myself.

It's finally time for work afterwards, so I throw on a white muscle shirt that does nothing to hide my abs, and some pants that hug my ass the way I'd want Gavrilo's hands to cup my cheeks; nice and without any space between. While I'm not in it for the money, tipping is a nice thing, and I don't mind being able to go out for a drink every now and then. After all, can't have Mike be a social outcast, that would be weird.

Most guys think I'm a really cool dude, and the women are giggling whenever I walk away from them, probably staring at my ass. I always thought wearing tights clothes like this would make me look gay, but apparently, no one minds as long as I've got something to show off. I've never had anyone question my sexuality, though if they did, I'd tell them I was bi. After all, dad had always cautioned me to stick to the truth where I could. 

Except for that first disguise I had taken on, right after I had moved in with him, bent and broken beyond repair.

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So, this story has really short chapters. What do you think of that?

My experience so far is that it's easier to write. I'm not tempted to write scenes that go on and on for a good 5k words. While that certainly has its upside, I'm enjoying this shorter style. I feel like I'm invited to start anew with every chapter, and therefore my style of writing might be slightly different.

XOXO

T.