When I’m done with my workout it’s expected that my faggot is waiting and ready.
The car has been washed and detailed. My protein shake is ready for me. My post-workout meal will be ready when I get home. My place is clean. The bed is made. The bathroom is spotless.
It is as if I live in a five star hotel. Each time I leave, the space magically resets itself with the detail-driven effort of a staff committed entirely to my happiness.
The invisible service is both appreciated and taken as granted. I eat my food in quiet peace while my faggot stretches and massages my feet. I slip into the bed, afterward, devoid of worry— ready to grow.
Quietly, my faggot gets back to work. Making sure the dishes are clean. That the food is prepped for the next meal. That his pussy is ready to be bred if that’s what I I want as a pre-meal appetizer. It’s an easy life for me— and for them.
Everything is easy when you know where you belong.
Perfect, Sir.
