The morning sun spilled through the curtains, casting golden light across the rumpled sheets. Ethan had slept on a folded blanket at the foot of the bed, just as Claire had instructed. She hadn’t spoken much after ordering him to clean her the night before—just curled into Derrick’s arms, visibly satisfied, and drifted to sleep while Ethan quietly settled onto the floor.
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He stirred before either of them. His back ached. The cage between his legs was still snug and unrelenting, and now that his arousal from the night before had faded slightly, all he felt was a deep, aching emptiness.
He rose silently and began preparing their breakfast. They were staying in the honeymoon suite for two more nights, and Claire had already packed what Ethan would need: his frilly maid-style apron, lace panties, and a set of written morning duties.
He stood at the kitchen counter in his apron and panties, carefully slicing fruit and arranging it onto porcelain plates. There was a note on the counter written in Claire’s looping script:
“Serve him first. Always. Kneel when you deliver.”
By the time Claire and Derrick stirred, Ethan had already filled their glasses with freshly squeezed juice and set the breakfast tray on the table. When Claire entered the room—naked but for Derrick’s shirt—she didn’t even look at Ethan. Derrick followed behind her, still yawning, his powerful presence making Ethan shrink instinctively.
Claire sat down, straddling Derrick’s lap, and kissed him slowly. “Did you sleep well, baby?” she asked him sweetly.
“Mmm. Best night of my life,” Derrick said, his hands on her hips.
Ethan knelt beside them with the tray and bowed his head. “Your breakfast, Sir. Ma’am.”
Claire finally looked down at him, amused. “You may feed him the first bite.”
Ethan picked up a piece of melon with trembling fingers and held it to Derrick’s lips. The man accepted it, chewing slowly while keeping his eyes locked on Ethan’s. “Good boy,” he muttered with a smirk.
Claire giggled. “Isn’t it sweet, watching him serve you already?”
Derrick leaned back. “He’s lucky. Most men have to earn a woman like you. He just has to suffer.”
Claire turned to Ethan. “After breakfast, you’ll clean the suite. Then I want you to run a bath for me and Derrick. You’ll be attending us for the rest of the honeymoon. There will be other guests visiting, too.”
Ethan’s eyes widened slightly. “Others, Ma’am?”
She grinned. “Other bulls. I told you—we’re going to build a life around your denial. I will never go untouched again, but you will never be used. You’ll be locked, watching, serving. Forever.”
Ethan bowed his head, trembling. “Yes, Ma’am.”
She caressed his cheek. “Don’t cry. This is what you asked for. You’re not my lover anymore, Ethan. You’re my property.”
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