Chapter 13: Weekend Getaway Servant

Saturday dawn broke over the winding mountain road in soft layers of rose and gold, the luxury cabin emerging from the pines like a hidden sanctuary carved from cedar and stone. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed a private deck suspended above a mist-shrouded valley, the air crisp with pine resin and distant woodsmoke. Marcus’s SUV rolled to a stop beside the wraparound porch, gravel crunching under the tires. Emma stepped out first, stretching with a languid arch that pulled her thin sweater tight across her chest, her yoga pants hugging every curve. She glanced back at the rear seat where Alex sat, already collared, the thin leather band snug against his throat like a permanent promise.

Inside, the cabin unfolded in open-plan luxury—vaulted ceilings, a massive stone fireplace already crackling with a low fire Marcus had arranged ahead, and a king-sized bed visible through double doors off the main living area. The moment the front door clicked shut, the servant protocol locked in without words. Emma set her overnight bag on the wide oak table and turned to Alex with a calm, expectant smile. “Strip.”

He obeyed, peeling away his clothes until he stood bare in the cool morning light. She opened the smaller suitcase she had packed herself, lifting out the delicate pieces one by one: sheer black lace panties cut high on the hips, a matching garter belt with thin straps, a sheer babydoll top that would barely skim his thighs, and a small makeup kit. Marcus watched from the leather sofa, legs spread wide, one arm draped along the backrest, his presence filling the room without effort.

Emma worked with deliberate care. First the collar—already buckled in the car, now adjusted tighter so the D-ring rested at the hollow of his throat. Then the lingerie: the lace panties slid up his legs, the front panel stretching taut over the pink steel cage that had become his constant companion. The garter belt snapped into place, straps framing the metal tube. The babydoll settled over his shoulders like a whisper of silk. Last came the makeup. She tilted his chin up, applying a light layer of foundation, then subtle eyeliner that made his eyes look larger and more vulnerable, a touch of gloss on his lips that left them shiny and soft. “Look at yourself,” she murmured, guiding him to the full-length mirror beside the fireplace. “My pretty little servant.”