SubscribeStar Story: The Tutor, Part 46

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Part 46

I didn’t know what it was about this particular instance of being referred to by the demeaning term, but it was quite effective in throwing me off.

The back of my hand already had the more full phrase, and Trixie had been rather consistent in addressing me with her pet-like commands. It’s not like Annabelle was springing it on me out of the blue, but I just hadn’t expected how blunt and casually she said it. Like it was business as usual, when this was nowhere near how things had been when we first met.

Not sure what to say, I opened my mouth in an attempt to get something out, if only to suggest that maybe this was all a little bit too much.

Before I figured out how to voice that scrambled line of thinking, Annabelle spoke first. “Oh, right. You’re still learning. When you wait on me, your only vocabulary should be ‘Yes, Ms. Annabelle,’ unless I specifically ask you something that requires more than that. Do you understand, Mere?”

A pretty clear test of the concept she just laid out for me. I had already resigned myself to saving the conversation I wanted to have until dinner was over. Mostly because I would be more comfortable when I was in tutor mode, rather than in the subservient state I had been wrapped up in for hours now. Plus Trixie had been quite clear about what was expected of me for this portion of the evening. I was to do whatever Annabelle said, apparently with this latest addition of only speaking the affirmation I was now limited to. “Yes, Ms. Annabelle,” I replied, only slightly reluctantly. It was a little scary how second nature all of this was getting, as I had somewhat been conditioned thanks to how both Annabelle and Trixie had been bossing me around all afternoon.

“Good girl,” she said. Similar to Trixie, Annabelle pulled off the patronizing phrase in a way that didn’t sound particularly malicious. It was more like an offhand comment, yet with a hint of firmness that told me it wasn’t supposed to be playful or teasing. So much nuance, but I was starting to expect that from the girl who I imagined was a budding socialite, considering her wealth and how she seemed to manipulate a conversation without even trying. Still facing me, she walked me through how this was all to start. “Pull my chair out for me, and pour me a taste of the wine.”

The first part was simple enough, although I was slightly in disbelief that this was how she lived her life. Was it just part of the pet game Annabelle was playing with me, or did Trixie do this as well? It was difficult to wrap my head around the idea of someone being so spoiled that they literally didn’t bother with their own chair. Although she didn’t come across as bratty or entitled with the demand; as usual, Annabelle was direct with a subtle expectation that I would do as I was told.

And I did. Doing the gesture I had only ever seen a few old fashioned men do for their partners at the few fancy holiday meals I had attended throughout my youth, I assisted Annabelle into her spot at the head of the table. The next part was a little more daunting. I didn’t dwell too much on the fact that I would be serving a girl who wasn’t of legal drinking age, as I had already seen her with wine earlier and made peace with it based on her overall lifestyle. The more pressing concern was the fact that I wasn’t that adept when it came to opening bottles. While I was older than Annabelle, I also wasn’t of age to legally drink. My parents had offered me wine before, and I had occasionally had some with my friends at my apartment, but I had only done the uncorking myself a couple times.

I stepped around to the side of the table where the bottle and corkscrew were waiting for me, doing my best to not look nervous or hesitant. Not only was I not allowed to speak, but it was also Annabelle. Even after everything she and her stern maid had put me through, she still had that air about her that left me wanting to impress her and/or avoid her judgment. I told myself it was because I wanted to talk about the collar without her being annoyed or dismissive towards me, but it was honestly more than that. Ever since that first meeting, it had been clear that she was just the kind of girl that could demand perfection without saying a single word.

The problem was, I wasn’t perfect. Hoping that she would be more focused on her assortment of appetizers than on what I was doing, I tentatively made the first cut on the top of the capsule. The process certainly wasn’t as pretty as sommeliers made it look, but I managed to quietly struggle my way through it. Aiming for competence over speed, I eventually got the cork out and poured a conservative splash into Annabelle’s glass.

She didn’t comment one way or another, which I tried to spin in a positive manner. I definitely could have done better, but I also could have done worse. When it came to my current situation, I’d take quiet indifference over verbal berating. After a couple sips, she nodded and set the glass back down near me.

I wasn’t sure how to deal with this experience. It had been one thing to suffer through Trixie’s bossy demeanor. She had at least given me consistent directions, and I retroactively appreciated the fact that the only lingering silences had been when we were both working separately. With Annabelle, however, I was used to having a back and forth with her. Rarely in my favor, even back at the beginning when she had stayed in just her bra and underwear after the half dressed yoga I had unexpectedly walked in on. No matter what I said or did, the young redhead got her way. But I had tried to express my side of things. Now I had more or less been stripped of my voice, and I also wasn’t the best when it came to silence. Was I really just supposed to be quiet and watch Annabelle eat her dinner?

I wasn’t sure what I expected when Trixie placed me by the table to wait on Annabelle. That maybe it wouldn’t be as ridiculous as I had assumed? After I poured Annabelle a full glass of wine, however, the task ended up being more or less exactly what I had been worried about. All I was doing was standing in the corner while the girl took another few sips of wine. She took a cursory bite of one of the appetizers, and I couldn’t help but think about how it would make so much more sense for me to do some dishes or something in the meantime. Like a waitress, I could just check on Annabelle every few minutes instead.

Of course, it wasn’t my call. She was rich and had certain expectations, and I was her obedient pet at the moment. I had said as much, and the feeling of the collar was a constant reminder.

After a few minutes, Annabelle spoke up and broke through my thoughts. “Mere, come. I want to test your obedience.”

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