First: A story featuring a male keeper and a female Kept.
Previous: Promise

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The kitchen door was lit up with more lights than Mélanie had thought it had, twinkling and shining like it was welcoming them home – which it might be, Mélanie admitted to herself.  There were even curtains in the door window that she was fairly certain hadn’t been there before and, as they walked up to it, the door swung open.

The short walk from the stable to the kitchen – Jasper was holding her hand, and she found she didn’t want to let go of it – was enough time for her to start thinking.  “You know,” she told Jasper, as they closed the kitchen door behind them, “that may be the first time I have actually made a decision – I mean really decided to do something and done it – since – since – since I don’t know when.” Since I was free.

“Then I am even more honored and pleased that you chose – made a decision of your own free will – to rescue me, and I am very proud of you.”

The warm feeling as Jasper hugged her, the rush as the praise – praise she had genuinely earned, even if having free will was not the sort of thing that people normally praised their slaves for – it was like a blanket all around her.  Mélanie smiled up at her master, feeling a little weak in the knees.

“And look, the house has given us some warm tea for the late evening.  Here, this chair.”  He directed her to a chair and, between the very-nearly-an-order and the way that her knees felt a little wobbly, Mélanie had no problem in sitting down.

She watched Jasper until he, too, was sitting down and had picked up his tea before she picked up her own.  “You’re proud of me?”  And now she was most definitely fishing for praise – but she also wanted to understand.  “For-”

“Well, I suppose the easy part to get is that I’m very happy you came after me.  That was fortunate indeed for me.  And yes, Mélanie, my dear.  I want you to understand… Hey!”  A napkin had hit him in the face. He huffed and put the napkin down.  “Mélanie – can I talk to her, or are you going to hit me again?”

No more napkins lifted.  “It was very impressive, that you not only made the choice to come after me and made the plan to do so, but that you – uh.”  He cleared his throat.  “Please forgive me – both you and the house here – if I sound condescending; that’s not my goal.  But I’m very pleased that you made a decision at all.  I know that it can be difficult, when one has been under the collar – metaphorically – for some time, and I know you’ve been collared for quite a while.”

Mélanie swallowed and blinked at her owner.  The feelings rushing over her threatened to bowl her right over, and she thought she might be starting to tear up.  “Sir… Sir.” She cleared her throat. “Sir, I did what I had to.”

“And I am very, very pleased with you.  May I give you a hug?”

“Sir, you own – hey!” It was her turn to be hit in the face with a napkin.  She considered the question as fairly as she could.  “Yes.  Yes, please.  I’d like a hug.”

He walked around the table to her and enveloped her in a tight hug that still somehow didn’t leave her feeling too constrained. “Thank you for rescuing me, Mélanie.”

She hugged him back, pressing against him, and tilted her head up towards him. Towards her Master, her Owner.  Towards Jasper. “Thank you…” she spoke quietly, still not completely sure that this was the best idea, “for being worth saving, sir.”  She stood up a little taller and pressed her lips to his.

He responded, at first chastely and sedately, and then, when she showed no signs of pulling away, with more enthusiasm.  He drew out the hiss, his hands resting on the top and bottom of her back, until his hips were pressed hard against her and he was groaning softly.

“Mélanie.”  He looked at her with an expression far too much like rue for her comfort.    “Mélanie, I would love to – I would love to – to carry this on.   But until you can look at me as a person and not as your Master, I don’t think it would be – ow, hey!”  Another napkin had hit him in the face. “What was that for?”

“Well…” Mélanie looked up at him and smirked a little, even though it was giving her a twist in her gut to think about it.  “If I had to guess, I’d say because the house wants you to remember that you are my Master, and that it would be stupid and rather delusional of me to think of you as not my Master.  Jasper.”

He was looking rueful again, but this look was a little less sad.  He tilted his head down and kissed her, lightly and gently but with definite purpose behind it.  His hand on her lower back slid downwards; his hand on her upper back stayed where it was.  Feeling both brave and affectionate, Mélanie put her own hand on the middle of Jasper’s back.

“Perhaps,” he murmured into her ear, “we should go upstairs?  There is a bed there, and I did tell you that I would rest.”

“Is it rest that you’re thinking of?”  She had looked up at him and ginned before she’d even realized what she’d said.

“Well, a bed, at least…”

“Then lead on.  A bed sounds like a good start to me.”