A Scotch for the Road: Early Days #2
Dec. 10th, 2009 09:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flighty_dreamsCharacters: Brett, Jenna, Derrick
Timeline: Five years prior to the start of the story, when Brett belonged to Derrick.
Length: 2,212 words
Notes: Sequel to this Brett ficlet. More Spliced pretty soon.
“Wait a minute.”
Brett turned away from the car window, where he’d been looking out at Ms. Warren’s apartment building. He’d never seen it before; she’d always come to his master’s home, not the other way around.
He removed his hand from the door handle, and kept his gaze respectfully averted as he waited for his master to speak again.
“I’m leaving you in good hands.” There was an uncertain edge to Master Derrick’s voice that undermined his words.
“Yes, Master,” he said, because an answer seemed expected. He repressed a smile as he noted that Master Derrick was leaving him with the same impression he’d had upon first meeting him: he was decent enough, but he didn’t really know what he was doing.
“You like her, don’t you?” Something about his master’s tone was odd.
Somehow Brett stifled the blush that rose at the thought of how very much he liked Ms. Warren. His master was likely just reassuring himself that he could leave Brett here without concern. Although Brett did wonder why his opinion of her mattered to Derrick.
“Yes, Master,” he said, keeping his voice even.
So certain there was nothing surprising left about Derrick, his master’s next words shocked him.
“No, I mean you really like her.”
Flustered, Brett couldn’t hide the blood rushing to his face this time.
Derrick chuckled. “I knew it! I didn’t notice it right away, but you’re more attentive to her than anyone else.”
Dismayed at being caught out, Brett felt the need to give some explanation. “She helped me, Master.”
“Right, I know.” There was something odd in the admission, as if his master found the topic uncomfortable. He brushed it aside, adding, “I thought it was just gratitude at first, but it’s more than that, isn’t it?”
Brett had no idea what to say. He was mortified that he’d revealed anything of his inappropriate feelings.
Derrick laughed. “No need to look like someone killed your dog. I don’t care.”
Brett let his eyes shift tentatively over to his master.
Mouth twitching, Derrick said, “It’s not really my business.”
Brett blinked at that, bewildered. Wasn’t everything about him his master’s business? Brett belonged to him; his first loyalty should be to his master. He shouldn’t have any strong feelings about someone else that could conflict with that. But Master Derrick had always been oddly disinterested in a lot of things that most masters were. Brett had never really understood him, but he’d still been fairly predictable.
His master continued, “I can’t say I don’t get it. My cousin is a great girl. A little too bossy for my tastes, but I guess for you that’s not a problem.”
Derrick grinned, and Brett felt his face reddening again. No, it wasn’t a problem at all.
His master sobered. “Never were much of a talker, were you?”
Brett ducked his head, reading the comment as a criticism, albeit one he didn’t understand. He was supposed to obey and keep quiet; that was what he’d been taught, and experience had reinforced it.
“All right, we should go,” his master said after a pause, opening the car door. Thankful this uncomfortable conversation was at an end, Brett followed him.
They’d parked along the street; this wasn’t a fancy neighborhood like the one he’d been living in with Master Derrick. Trailing behind his master, Brett carried two duffle bags which held his possessions – or rather the possessions his master allowed him to have. Being sold had taught Brett the importance of the distinction.
Ms. Warren opened her door with a welcoming smile. Brett told his foolish heart it was directed at her cousin, not him. She had only made these arrangements after he’d pointed out his predicament to her. He wasn’t certain how she felt about the disruption to her own life, but he couldn’t imagine she would welcome it.
“Is that everything?” she asked, looking at the bags Brett carried.
“Yeah,” Derrick said, a familiar embarrassed flush on his face. She often brought that emotion out of her cousin. Brett had no idea what his master was feeling ashamed about this time though.
“You can put those down for now, Brett,” she said, gesturing. He complied, slinging the duffle bags down to the floor gratefully. The straps had been digging into his shoulders.
The two cousins spoke for a few minutes before beginning their goodbyes. Master Derrick’s flight was that evening.
“Thanks again for taking care of him, Jenna,” his master said, glancing over at Brett.
“You’re welcome,” she said, giving him a hug.
Watching them, Brett’s stomach twisted. He remembered the one embrace he’d received from her vividly. If he’d known how much it would mean to him later, he would’ve savored her comforting that first night much more.
Stepping free of her arms – something Brett would never have willingly done – Derrick turned to him. Something he saw made his master smile.
“Good luck, Brett,” Derrick said, a gleam in his eyes that confused Brett. Was he really-
“There’s no need for luck. We’ll be fine,” Ms. Warren said, unaware of the undercurrent. From her position behind Derrick, she hadn’t caught the odd expression on his master’s face.
“Of course,” his master said to her, his voice light. His gaze shifted back to Brett. “You do what my cousin says while I’m gone, and you’ll be fine.”
Brett nodded. “Yes, Master.” He wondered again whether there was something more to his words.
Within a minute’s time Derrick was gone, leaving Brett alone with his cousin.
It was an awkward moment, both of them standing there in the entryway of the silent apartment. Then Ms. Warren seemed to shake it aside. “Let’s get you settled.”
Picking up his bags, he followed her deeper into the apartment. It wasn’t particularly large, considering the Family she came from. Overall the décor wasn’t far different from Derrick’s, the simple, efficient furniture and posters on the walls belonging clearly to a college student, even though she had already graduated. But her graduation had been only a few months ago, so it made sense.
There were two bedrooms, and she led him to the smaller one. “I hope this is okay…”
She stopped in the doorway, and he paused just behind her. Her room lay right next to this one, the door to it open. Her bed was visible, the sheets still unmade from that morning. The sudden image of undressing her slowly and laying on the bed with her, her auburn hair tumbling against those pale sheets as he pleasured her, assaulted him. That he was close enough to catch the almond scent that clung to her hair helped not at all.
He stumbled back, ashamed of himself. She wasn’t doing anything that should cause him to think such things. She was in jeans and a loose t-shirt, hardly seduction attire, and speaking to him with polite distance. But it seemed to make no difference, not when he wanted her so badly.
“Brett? You okay?” she asked, her expressive blue eyes gazing at him with concern.
“Yes, Ms. Warren.” He seized on the first excuse that came to mind, adjusting the strap on one shoulder. “The bag almost slipped, that’s all.”
“Oh, okay,” she said, some doubt in her voice, but she let it go. “Put those down in here then.”
He obeyed, placing them on the floor and then looking around the room. It was better than thinking of her big, empty bed and how much he’d like to join her in it. Or sleep at her feet. He’d happily settle for that, as long as he could be near her.
How he was going to sleep well knowing there was only a thin wall between them he’d no idea.
Disgusted with himself, he brought his focus back to his surroundings. This room, being a ‘real’ bedroom, was bigger than the slave room he’d had in Master Derrick’s apartment. A desk with a computer sat in the corner, and a futon rested against the opposite wall. There was a small chest of drawers near the futon that had the look of something new, its surface shining and clear of any marks.
“Sorry it’s kind of sparse,” she said, the apology confusing him. “But at least it’s bigger than the room you had at Derrick’s, and I thought it would be better to wait until you arrived before buying anything else. That way we could discuss together what else you might need.”
She looked over at him expectantly, and he had no idea how to respond. What? would be too rude, but nothing else was coming to him.
His silence made her shift uneasily and she prompted, “Like a proper bed, perhaps?”
He glanced down at the futon. It was far from the worst surface he’d ever slept on. “This is fine, Ms. Warren. Thank you.”
She rolled her eyes. “For guests that I had over for a few nights, sure. But it’s not that comfortable. You’re going to be here for months.”
Months. The full reality of that hadn’t sunk in, not amid the frenzy of his master’s preparations for his trip and his own excitement at the thought of living with her soon. But the future was here now, and while he still felt excited, a growing dismay was coming over him as well. It had been difficult enough to restrain himself when she’d just been visiting his master. Living with her provided far more daily temptation.
Unless she planned to make use of him. Hope of that had been growing in his heart ever since she’d told him the news. She wouldn’t take on the responsibility for him without getting some physical satisfaction out of him, would she? But he had the dismal suspicion that she might. If her offer of buying him furniture was anything to go by, she was just that nice. Or that uninterested, if she was so eager to buy him his own bed, clearly not planning on sharing hers. The possibility that she might not want him at all shoved a knife into his heart.
Meanwhile, his lack of agreement seemed to frustrate her. “We’ll discuss this again later.”
Shame rose as he realized his selfish desire for her was causing him to behave poorly. “Ms. Warren,” he said, dropping to his knees. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend.”
She placed a hand on his shoulder, a casual touch she’d done several times at Master Derrick’s. “It’s fine. There’s no rush. I’ll let you unpack.”
He used the respite from her to get his thoughts under control.
A while later she showed him around the apartment, not that it was overwhelmingly big. But as they paused in the living room, he bowed his head and asked, “Ms. Warren, what are my duties?”
He could feel her eyes on him. “You like to keep busy, don’t you?”
“Yes, Ms. Warren.” When being occupied would help prevent him from doing something inappropriate, yes, he found his work ethic greatly increased.
“Brett, look at me,” she said, and he instantly obeyed. “Much better. I like to see your face,” she added, smiling.
He gazed at her, basking in the fact that she was smiling at him like that.
Her hand cupped his cheek, and he leaned into the touch, against his better judgment. He couldn’t resist, not when she had never touched him there before.
“So sweet,” she murmured, making him blush with pleasure. Her thumb stroked his face for a few blissful moments before she dropped the hand away.
She continued the conversation as if it had never been interrupted. “I don’t have much for you to do, really.”
It was a struggle to conceal his dismay, both at the news and at her retreat. Her caressing his cheek had awakened a devil in him. He wanted to kneel and kiss her bare feet, just for an excuse to touch her again. The sinful part of him was arguing that such a gesture wouldn’t be so bad. It was absolutely the most respectful way he could touch her. But touching a woman like her in any way without invitation was blatantly wrong, no matter how he tried to dress it up. He just needed some way to express the feelings threatening to boil out of him though, and it didn’t even have to be sexual.
“You can keep the place clean, of course,” she went on, oblivious to his raging turmoil as she looked around them. “And I know you can cook.”
“Yes, Ms. Warren,” he forced out, striving for a blank expression. She’d eaten some of his cooking at Master Derrick’s.
“Beyond that,” she said, shrugging, “you can keep me company.”
The innocent way she said that, without any hint of innuendo, made him pray for strength.
“Sound good?” she asked, smiling at him again.
He nodded, because he couldn’t possibly answer.
Shortly afterwards she left him alone, leaving the task of making lunch to him. As he prepared the meal, he vowed that he would be the best, most obedient slave he could be, and do everything she asked of him. It was a healthy, appropriate way to show his admiration for her.
But somehow he doubted that would be enough.
Timeline: Five years prior to the start of the story, when Brett belonged to Derrick.
Length: 2,212 words
Notes: Sequel to this Brett ficlet. More Spliced pretty soon.
“Wait a minute.”
Brett turned away from the car window, where he’d been looking out at Ms. Warren’s apartment building. He’d never seen it before; she’d always come to his master’s home, not the other way around.
He removed his hand from the door handle, and kept his gaze respectfully averted as he waited for his master to speak again.
“I’m leaving you in good hands.” There was an uncertain edge to Master Derrick’s voice that undermined his words.
“Yes, Master,” he said, because an answer seemed expected. He repressed a smile as he noted that Master Derrick was leaving him with the same impression he’d had upon first meeting him: he was decent enough, but he didn’t really know what he was doing.
“You like her, don’t you?” Something about his master’s tone was odd.
Somehow Brett stifled the blush that rose at the thought of how very much he liked Ms. Warren. His master was likely just reassuring himself that he could leave Brett here without concern. Although Brett did wonder why his opinion of her mattered to Derrick.
“Yes, Master,” he said, keeping his voice even.
So certain there was nothing surprising left about Derrick, his master’s next words shocked him.
“No, I mean you really like her.”
Flustered, Brett couldn’t hide the blood rushing to his face this time.
Derrick chuckled. “I knew it! I didn’t notice it right away, but you’re more attentive to her than anyone else.”
Dismayed at being caught out, Brett felt the need to give some explanation. “She helped me, Master.”
“Right, I know.” There was something odd in the admission, as if his master found the topic uncomfortable. He brushed it aside, adding, “I thought it was just gratitude at first, but it’s more than that, isn’t it?”
Brett had no idea what to say. He was mortified that he’d revealed anything of his inappropriate feelings.
Derrick laughed. “No need to look like someone killed your dog. I don’t care.”
Brett let his eyes shift tentatively over to his master.
Mouth twitching, Derrick said, “It’s not really my business.”
Brett blinked at that, bewildered. Wasn’t everything about him his master’s business? Brett belonged to him; his first loyalty should be to his master. He shouldn’t have any strong feelings about someone else that could conflict with that. But Master Derrick had always been oddly disinterested in a lot of things that most masters were. Brett had never really understood him, but he’d still been fairly predictable.
His master continued, “I can’t say I don’t get it. My cousin is a great girl. A little too bossy for my tastes, but I guess for you that’s not a problem.”
Derrick grinned, and Brett felt his face reddening again. No, it wasn’t a problem at all.
His master sobered. “Never were much of a talker, were you?”
Brett ducked his head, reading the comment as a criticism, albeit one he didn’t understand. He was supposed to obey and keep quiet; that was what he’d been taught, and experience had reinforced it.
“All right, we should go,” his master said after a pause, opening the car door. Thankful this uncomfortable conversation was at an end, Brett followed him.
They’d parked along the street; this wasn’t a fancy neighborhood like the one he’d been living in with Master Derrick. Trailing behind his master, Brett carried two duffle bags which held his possessions – or rather the possessions his master allowed him to have. Being sold had taught Brett the importance of the distinction.
Ms. Warren opened her door with a welcoming smile. Brett told his foolish heart it was directed at her cousin, not him. She had only made these arrangements after he’d pointed out his predicament to her. He wasn’t certain how she felt about the disruption to her own life, but he couldn’t imagine she would welcome it.
“Is that everything?” she asked, looking at the bags Brett carried.
“Yeah,” Derrick said, a familiar embarrassed flush on his face. She often brought that emotion out of her cousin. Brett had no idea what his master was feeling ashamed about this time though.
“You can put those down for now, Brett,” she said, gesturing. He complied, slinging the duffle bags down to the floor gratefully. The straps had been digging into his shoulders.
The two cousins spoke for a few minutes before beginning their goodbyes. Master Derrick’s flight was that evening.
“Thanks again for taking care of him, Jenna,” his master said, glancing over at Brett.
“You’re welcome,” she said, giving him a hug.
Watching them, Brett’s stomach twisted. He remembered the one embrace he’d received from her vividly. If he’d known how much it would mean to him later, he would’ve savored her comforting that first night much more.
Stepping free of her arms – something Brett would never have willingly done – Derrick turned to him. Something he saw made his master smile.
“Good luck, Brett,” Derrick said, a gleam in his eyes that confused Brett. Was he really-
“There’s no need for luck. We’ll be fine,” Ms. Warren said, unaware of the undercurrent. From her position behind Derrick, she hadn’t caught the odd expression on his master’s face.
“Of course,” his master said to her, his voice light. His gaze shifted back to Brett. “You do what my cousin says while I’m gone, and you’ll be fine.”
Brett nodded. “Yes, Master.” He wondered again whether there was something more to his words.
Within a minute’s time Derrick was gone, leaving Brett alone with his cousin.
It was an awkward moment, both of them standing there in the entryway of the silent apartment. Then Ms. Warren seemed to shake it aside. “Let’s get you settled.”
Picking up his bags, he followed her deeper into the apartment. It wasn’t particularly large, considering the Family she came from. Overall the décor wasn’t far different from Derrick’s, the simple, efficient furniture and posters on the walls belonging clearly to a college student, even though she had already graduated. But her graduation had been only a few months ago, so it made sense.
There were two bedrooms, and she led him to the smaller one. “I hope this is okay…”
She stopped in the doorway, and he paused just behind her. Her room lay right next to this one, the door to it open. Her bed was visible, the sheets still unmade from that morning. The sudden image of undressing her slowly and laying on the bed with her, her auburn hair tumbling against those pale sheets as he pleasured her, assaulted him. That he was close enough to catch the almond scent that clung to her hair helped not at all.
He stumbled back, ashamed of himself. She wasn’t doing anything that should cause him to think such things. She was in jeans and a loose t-shirt, hardly seduction attire, and speaking to him with polite distance. But it seemed to make no difference, not when he wanted her so badly.
“Brett? You okay?” she asked, her expressive blue eyes gazing at him with concern.
“Yes, Ms. Warren.” He seized on the first excuse that came to mind, adjusting the strap on one shoulder. “The bag almost slipped, that’s all.”
“Oh, okay,” she said, some doubt in her voice, but she let it go. “Put those down in here then.”
He obeyed, placing them on the floor and then looking around the room. It was better than thinking of her big, empty bed and how much he’d like to join her in it. Or sleep at her feet. He’d happily settle for that, as long as he could be near her.
How he was going to sleep well knowing there was only a thin wall between them he’d no idea.
Disgusted with himself, he brought his focus back to his surroundings. This room, being a ‘real’ bedroom, was bigger than the slave room he’d had in Master Derrick’s apartment. A desk with a computer sat in the corner, and a futon rested against the opposite wall. There was a small chest of drawers near the futon that had the look of something new, its surface shining and clear of any marks.
“Sorry it’s kind of sparse,” she said, the apology confusing him. “But at least it’s bigger than the room you had at Derrick’s, and I thought it would be better to wait until you arrived before buying anything else. That way we could discuss together what else you might need.”
She looked over at him expectantly, and he had no idea how to respond. What? would be too rude, but nothing else was coming to him.
His silence made her shift uneasily and she prompted, “Like a proper bed, perhaps?”
He glanced down at the futon. It was far from the worst surface he’d ever slept on. “This is fine, Ms. Warren. Thank you.”
She rolled her eyes. “For guests that I had over for a few nights, sure. But it’s not that comfortable. You’re going to be here for months.”
Months. The full reality of that hadn’t sunk in, not amid the frenzy of his master’s preparations for his trip and his own excitement at the thought of living with her soon. But the future was here now, and while he still felt excited, a growing dismay was coming over him as well. It had been difficult enough to restrain himself when she’d just been visiting his master. Living with her provided far more daily temptation.
Unless she planned to make use of him. Hope of that had been growing in his heart ever since she’d told him the news. She wouldn’t take on the responsibility for him without getting some physical satisfaction out of him, would she? But he had the dismal suspicion that she might. If her offer of buying him furniture was anything to go by, she was just that nice. Or that uninterested, if she was so eager to buy him his own bed, clearly not planning on sharing hers. The possibility that she might not want him at all shoved a knife into his heart.
Meanwhile, his lack of agreement seemed to frustrate her. “We’ll discuss this again later.”
Shame rose as he realized his selfish desire for her was causing him to behave poorly. “Ms. Warren,” he said, dropping to his knees. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend.”
She placed a hand on his shoulder, a casual touch she’d done several times at Master Derrick’s. “It’s fine. There’s no rush. I’ll let you unpack.”
He used the respite from her to get his thoughts under control.
A while later she showed him around the apartment, not that it was overwhelmingly big. But as they paused in the living room, he bowed his head and asked, “Ms. Warren, what are my duties?”
He could feel her eyes on him. “You like to keep busy, don’t you?”
“Yes, Ms. Warren.” When being occupied would help prevent him from doing something inappropriate, yes, he found his work ethic greatly increased.
“Brett, look at me,” she said, and he instantly obeyed. “Much better. I like to see your face,” she added, smiling.
He gazed at her, basking in the fact that she was smiling at him like that.
Her hand cupped his cheek, and he leaned into the touch, against his better judgment. He couldn’t resist, not when she had never touched him there before.
“So sweet,” she murmured, making him blush with pleasure. Her thumb stroked his face for a few blissful moments before she dropped the hand away.
She continued the conversation as if it had never been interrupted. “I don’t have much for you to do, really.”
It was a struggle to conceal his dismay, both at the news and at her retreat. Her caressing his cheek had awakened a devil in him. He wanted to kneel and kiss her bare feet, just for an excuse to touch her again. The sinful part of him was arguing that such a gesture wouldn’t be so bad. It was absolutely the most respectful way he could touch her. But touching a woman like her in any way without invitation was blatantly wrong, no matter how he tried to dress it up. He just needed some way to express the feelings threatening to boil out of him though, and it didn’t even have to be sexual.
“You can keep the place clean, of course,” she went on, oblivious to his raging turmoil as she looked around them. “And I know you can cook.”
“Yes, Ms. Warren,” he forced out, striving for a blank expression. She’d eaten some of his cooking at Master Derrick’s.
“Beyond that,” she said, shrugging, “you can keep me company.”
The innocent way she said that, without any hint of innuendo, made him pray for strength.
“Sound good?” she asked, smiling at him again.
He nodded, because he couldn’t possibly answer.
Shortly afterwards she left him alone, leaving the task of making lunch to him. As he prepared the meal, he vowed that he would be the best, most obedient slave he could be, and do everything she asked of him. It was a healthy, appropriate way to show his admiration for her.
But somehow he doubted that would be enough.
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no subject
Date: 2009-12-11 05:01 am (UTC)I just love Brett thinking he is in trouble, somehow it makes me want to reassure him and at the same time see him in more trouble... >:)
How you weave in that discomfort of Derricks at remembering exactly from what Jenna saved Brett, also at being called on 'allowing Brett to have such few possessions' and Brett not understanding why his Master would feel this way about this subjects, its perfect!
I like the way you make us see the various uncertainties Brett must constantly work out under Derrick, as with '“Never were much of a talker, were you?”', how can he know what pleases his Master? And also that sentence is a terrible foreshadowing that Derrick is really not considering having Brett back, isnt he? He is already talking about him in past tense...
I can only say to this: Brett is so utterly doomed from the beginning its just beautiful! (I am still replaying the sentence of the previous story, where he would take a beating just to touch her hair, even if it shouldn't it makes me go awww)
Brett hating already his new bed because it means he is not sleeping with her, is also so cute! :D
He kneels!!! Kneeling Brett and worried Brett, so delicious! >:)
Gahhh I agree with his sinful part, he should kneel down and kiss her feet, that can only lead to a lot of fun, for everyone!! >:)
And when does he stop calling her Ms, Warren and start calling her Mistress? And when does Jenna find him more appropriate tasks, tasks that make them both forget they were buying a new bed for him? :)
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Date: 2009-12-11 05:38 am (UTC):-) Soooo happy to see this posting, and just wanted to say that before reading. I really look forward to each new chapter.
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Date: 2009-12-11 05:50 am (UTC)Yeah! There's nothing quite like thinking you're concealing your emotions and finding it's not so. Ow. Ow. OW. That whole scene made me wince. It's such a loss of positioning/control.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-11 08:15 am (UTC)I didn't know you planned to write anymore 'early days', so this was a pleasant surprise. It does shed some light on the main story, and it makes it even harder to "accept" that Jenna gave him up when Derrick came back.
Are you planning to write more of these up until where the main story starts? :-)
no subject
Date: 2009-12-11 10:18 am (UTC)Also, seems like the whole selling-Brett affair was nothing more than one huge misunderstanding, since apparently Derrick means well enough. So sad (and realistic). :(
no subject
Date: 2009-12-11 01:30 pm (UTC)And I like that Derrick is a lot closer to what most of us would be in a slave-owning society: well-meaning but clueless and clumsy. He probably needed a bossy slave, one who would tell him what to do and how to be a good master. Instead, he got Brett, who was completely obedient and unable to help Derrick be a good master.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-11 02:19 pm (UTC)Yeah, that's something I've liked about writing these. It gives me a chance to give you all a peak at the talked-about-but-never-seen Derrick. (And see how this all started. *grin*)
And yes, I love writing from the slave's pov, and seeing how his mindset affects how he sees (or doesn't see) things. And I also find it interesting the ways this younger Brett is different from his later self. It's a fun contrast.
Yep, so doomed! Poor Brett. Just a thin wall between them at night... >:D
And when does he stop calling her Ms, Warren and start calling her Mistress? And when does Jenna find him more appropriate tasks, tasks that make them both forget they were buying a new bed for him? :)
Hey, one step at a time! It would be odd for him to start calling her Mistress as soon as he got there. :P They are both awkward and adjusting, no need for him to add on that to the pile. Better for him to call her as he always did, at least for now. :P As for the 2nd, you'll have to wait and see!
Thanks for the comments. :-)
no subject
Date: 2009-12-11 02:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-11 02:23 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading!
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Date: 2009-12-11 02:27 pm (UTC)Glad I could (happily) surprise you. :-) I'm glad it clarifies some things, that's what's I was hoping for. Mmm yes, it does make one wonder about just what happened there.
Are you planning to write more of these up until where the main story starts? :-)
Ideally yes, though not on any set schedule. More how the muse cooperates really. ;-) I imagine this more as a series of snapshots, rather than showing everything step by step though. We'll see. Should be interesting (I hope).
no subject
Date: 2009-12-11 02:31 pm (UTC)Hmm yeah I think getting a good look at Derrick stirs up more questions of just what happened later.
Glad you enjoyed the fic. :-)
no subject
Date: 2009-12-11 02:40 pm (UTC)Yeah, I wanted to make Derrick flawed (and a bad master) but not a bad person. Hmm, yes a bossy slave that would sigh at him even as he took care of him would probably fit Derrick much better lol. Derrick and Brett were both looking for guidance, and the only source of it was Jenna, who wasn't around enough to provide the amount of it that Derrick needed, heh.
Interestingly, looking back at an earlier chapter of the main story, where Brett is scolding Jenna about carrying things or making the tea, he did become bossier. :P What a difference the right person (and five years!) can make...
no subject
Date: 2009-12-11 03:59 pm (UTC)Those surprises are the best :-) Yeah, I mean in the main story we are told that she let him go and that it was sad and hard on them both (and are shown the after effects). But now we are slowly starting to get to be shown why it will be sad and hard on them, and then you see it in a different way = you feel more sorry for him... which I like to do :-)
That sounds good I think. It doesn't have to be a full story, a series of snapshots all the way up to where the other story starts will show that as well. I hope the muse cooperates :-) Those fickle creatures...*grumbles* Mine is hiding it seems :-(
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Date: 2009-12-11 05:52 pm (UTC)Yeah, before it was just basically a summary, because I wrote those first few parts on the fly, not really planning this all out. And at the time, I needed to come up with a backstory for why/how they had separated, but from where I'd begun the story it didn't allow room for me to go back in time and describe it in detail.
Showing is always better than telling, and creates more emotion. Ideally, if I finish this backstory, I'd change my index and put these parts in front and then take out the summary from the part I wrote a long time ago, since it won't be necessary anymore. :D
I hope your muse returns. Mine is hiding lately too. :( (I wrote this over a week ago.) Good luck!
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Date: 2009-12-11 06:09 pm (UTC)And I left plenty to talk about:
You can imagine that nice torture he will be enduring seeing every time she treats him with care but no outward indication of lust, interpreting everything she says as a refusal! It looks like that is a lot of fun!! >:)
Or:
Cant you just see him not being able to sleep in the other room and sneaking into Jenna's room to sleep at her feet, taking care of awakening before her but finally getting caught on? There are a lot of sentences in here that provide the best kink fantasies! >:)
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Date: 2009-12-11 06:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-11 07:30 pm (UTC)I do understand though. Even as I want to cuddle Brett I enjoy his suffering here. *blushes*
And lol yes I can totally imagine him doing that. XD
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Date: 2009-12-12 01:44 am (UTC)There's plenty of showing both in the main story and these early days snapshots, just showing different aspects of it. The two complement each other well, I think :-)
I'm gonna find the little bastard still, he's hiding somewhere near, I can feel it :-)
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Date: 2009-12-12 02:46 am (UTC)It is a rather adorable image, and highly appropriate place for him to spend the nights, when he is not otherwise employed! >:)
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Date: 2009-12-12 02:50 am (UTC)It is, yes :-) I just hope Jenna won't do what I do with the cats sometimes - turn violently in my sleep and kick him out of the bed :-))
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Date: 2009-12-12 02:52 am (UTC)He brings out exactly that quantity of protectiveness and evilness! :) We are helpless, if something is to blame its him! >:)
I can think its the only situation he would be that bold and sneaky! :)
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Date: 2009-12-12 02:56 am (UTC)Difference between cats and Brett: A cat will give you a royal glare, that you had the nerve to interrupt her/his sleep by touching his majesties body, would stalk out your bedroom or settle again in a dignified matter. Brett would profusely apologize for being in your way of turning, he should have been able to anticipate your movements, even at night, and beg your forgiveness and ask if you allow him back in bed at your feet! >:)
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Date: 2009-12-12 03:01 am (UTC)That's true! The cats do always seem totally unfazed by this :-)) My big boy cat always sleeps on my upper body no matter which side I sleep on, and when I turn he just stands up, walks in the different direction like an acrobat on a big ball, and lies down again when I'm done :-))
*LOL* Yeah, that's what a good slave would do!! :-)
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Date: 2010-01-08 01:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-10 04:44 pm (UTC)Several, but I'm not sure on an exact number yet. I know what happens, but it depends how I write out the events. We'll see.