One step below
I set the toolbox down by the door and managed a slight, crooked smile. "Welcome, Mr. Yan. Make yourself at home."
The words sounded strange even to me.
I had only just returned from a field assignment as a lockslave technician, still carrying the heat and sweat of the trip on my body, yet I was greeting him as though I were half the master of the house.
When Mr. Yan stood, he hurriedly pushed the paper bag by his feet farther out of the way. There was something clumsy about him, and something honest too. "I'm waiting for Mr. Shi."
Shi was Master's surname—the name people outside our relationship used for him.
"Is this about canceling the order?"
"No." He looked at me, then quickly moved his eyes away. "Mr. Shi didn't tell you?"
I removed the badge from my chest and hung it on the hook by the door. "If he told me everything, he wouldn't be my Master."
The line caught Mr. Yan off guard, and the corner of his mouth lifted before he could stop it. "That's true."
Looking at him, so honest and so unsure where to place himself, I suddenly remembered the way he had knelt in the bathroom the day before, his face full of gratitude as he called me "Master."
I leaned against the shoe cabinet and spoke slowly. "Mr. Yan, you called me Master yesterday. Does that still stand?"
His face reddened at once. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, as though he might somehow smooth the memory away. "D-did I...? Haha."
"You did." I changed my shoes slowly. "So don't cancel the order. Do it for your Master."
Master's voice came from the bedroom. "You are not his Master."
My hands stopped.
He had not spoken loudly, yet the sentence landed like a ruler striking a desk, flattening the shapeless joke that had been hanging in the living room.
"Go lie down somewhere and stay out of the way," Master said. "Feeling very capable today, are we?"
I shut my mouth at once.
Mr. Yan straightened too.
I carried the toolbox into the living room, returned everything to its place, and dropped onto the couch.
The moment I hit the couch, the exhaustion finally caught up with me.
The field uniform clung damply to my back. The ventilation mesh inside the trouser legs kept rubbing against my skin, and I could still feel the butt plug inside me.
I closed my eyes.
I knew Master would not forget about it.
So I decided to sleep.
Preferably until morning.
---
After a while, I heard the bedroom door open. Master came out. "Is the pup asleep?"
My eyelids twitched, but I kept them closed.
"I think so," Mr. Yan answered quietly.
"Then why are you standing?" Master's tone already carried a reprimand.
I slowed my breathing and continued pretending to sleep.
Mr. Yan answered at once. "I was waiting for you... and what 6870 said just now made sense. I don't think the money should be refunded."
The living room went quiet for a moment.
Master pulled out a chair. "Sit down. We spoke several times on the phone today, so I have a fair idea of what you want."
"Yes," Mr. Yan said softly.
"So where do you stand now?"
Mr. Yan hesitated. "I don't know. That's why I came to ask you."
"Ask me?" Master said.
"Mm." Mr. Yan's voice was very light. "I didn't sleep well last night. I know this is presumptuous, but I thought about it for a long time. I still feel that... if even this place isn't right for me, I may not know where else to go."
Silence held the living room for several seconds.
"I'm going to ask you a few questions," Master said.
"Yes."
"First: could you live here long-term?"
"Yes."
Mr. Yan answered too quickly, as though he feared that taking even a moment longer would get him sent away.
Master did not respond immediately. "If you move in, you follow my rules."
"Yes."
"Your life may narrow down to two places: work and home. For now, you'd have to cut out any socializing you don't need. Could you live with that?"
"Yes."
Master tapped the tabletop once. "Don't say yes to everything."
Mr. Yan fell silent at once.
"I'm asking what you can actually live with," Master said. "I'm not asking you to prove your loyalty."
The silence that followed lasted so long I almost thought he would be unable to answer.
At last Mr. Yan spoke again. "I want to try."
That sounded more solid than all the earlier yeses.
"Second: the company has only just started," Master said. "I don't have the energy to give you constant attention every day. Most of the time, you'll be working, waiting for orders, and following rules."
"I'll get it done."
Lying on the couch with my eyes closed, I thought that sounded like him.
If it were me, I would probably say, "I guarantee I'll get it done," and then think a hundred chaotic things inside my head.
"Third," Master said, "6870 has, in fact, done things to you that went too far."
Mr. Yan immediately protested, "No, no, he didn't—"
"Don't interrupt while I'm speaking."
"Yes." His voice dropped at once.
"6870 isn't a bad person," Master continued.
"Yes."
"But he isn't always steady."
I did not like hearing that.
It was also not untrue.
"He's taken plenty of punishment at my feet," Master said. "I know he's vulnerable, and I know he needs someone to protect him."
Master rarely spoke about me that way.
"In any case, 6870 was here before you. He is now a field technician and the company's first showcase model. He will be very busy." Master paused. "So for now, you can handle the laundry, clean the living room, organize the shoes and socks, and do some simple cooking."
"Yes."
Again, Mr. Yan answered too quickly.
This time Master did not stop him. He only finished what he had to say.
"Not because you're beneath him or worth less than he is," Master said. "Because right now, he's the one I need to send out and put to use."
Mr. Yan went quiet for a moment, then said very softly, "I understand. He needs to stay in working condition."
"The trial period won't be long," Master said. "I may know within two or three days whether you're suitable. If you're not, it ends there."
"Yes."
"If you are, we'll discuss a formal Master/slave contract afterward. And control of your chastity device will belong to your Master."
"Understood, Mr. Shi."
Master leaned back in his chair. "What should you call me now?"
Mr. Yan visibly flinched at the question.
Several seconds passed before he answered in a small, embarrassed voice. "Yes, Master."
My eyes flew open.
I nearly sprang upright from the couch.
Master turned toward me. "Awake?"
I sat there with my hair in disorder, my work uniform wrinkled and damp, looking as though I had just been pulled from water.
Master looked at me. "Kneel."
I came off the couch immediately, drew in my knees, lowered myself to the floor, and knelt straight.
The movement was so familiar that I did it before I had time to think.
---
Master looked back at Mr. Yan. "I'm going to give you a name."
He paused, then seemed to remember me. "6870, any ideas?"
I looked up at Mr. Yan.
He was thickset and honest-looking, sitting there like a large animal that had been led into an unfamiliar place.
"He looks like a pig to me," I said. "Sturdy, honest, and kind of cute."
Mr. Yan's expression stiffened.
"Pig Yan doesn't sound right," I added quickly. "Porker is even worse. What about Porter?"
Master raised an eyebrow. "Porter?"
"He'll be taking care of things around the house. It fits."
Master turned to Mr. Yan. "What do you think?"
Mr. Yan looked at me.
The expression in his eyes was difficult to describe. There was embarrassment, uncertainty about how to respond, and something else that looked almost like relief at finally being placed somewhere.
"Anything is fine."
Master picked up his pen and wrote PORTER in the corner of the document.
"All right," he said. "Kneel, Porter."
Mr. Yan—no, Porter—slowly lowered himself to the floor.
He knelt clumsily.
When his knees touched down, he carefully adjusted their position, as though he feared the floor was too hard, or feared that he was kneeling incorrectly.
The awkwardness made it feel more real.
Master took an old collar from the drawer.
I recognized it at once.
It had once been mine.
After the company started, it had been put away. Lately I wore a uniform, a badge, and a number. The collar seemed to belong to an earlier version of my life.
Master carried it to Porter. "We'll talk about a proper one later."
He brought it around the back of Porter's neck. "Wear this for now."
The metal clasp closed with a soft click.
Porter shut his eyes.
When he opened them again, something in him seemed to settle.
Not lower.
Steadier.
Kneeling beside him, I watched my old collar close around his neck. It felt as though he had taken something over from me.
As though there were something I no longer had to carry.
---
Master turned toward me. "6870."
I lowered my head at once. "Yes, Master."
"Tell me what you did wrong today."
I thought for a moment. "I didn't send you the required end-of-appointment photo confirming that the butt plug was still in place."
Then I added, "And I let the client go too far with me during the appointment."
"What else?"
I paused. "I decided not to issue the refund without asking you."
Master looked at Porter. "If you don't want to watch, you can turn away."
Porter looked up at him, then at me. "I can watch."
"Then remember this," Master said. "Not every slave is trained the same way."
"Yes, Master."
Master held out his hand.
He did not need to say more. I immediately crawled to the couch, pulled the SP paddle from beneath the cushion, and presented it to him with both hands.
Then I knelt with my back to him, lowered my chest toward the floor, and raised my ass high.
I pulled my work trousers down to my upper thighs.
The first strike made me cry out before I could stop myself.
I clenched my teeth as soon as the sound escaped. My body lurched forward, my knees scraping audibly across the floor.
The second strike was lighter.
The third and fourth came one after another.
Each blow jolted the plug inside me, rubbing it against my sensitive prostate until pain and a maddening itch twisted together.
After the fifth blow, Master stopped.
With my forehead against the floor, I took a few breaths before whispering, "Thank you for the punishment, Master."
He did not tell me to get up. "Had enough for today?"
"No, Master."
Master gave a quiet laugh. "Good."
He crouched and placed one finger against the base of the butt plug.
Then he twisted it.
My whole body clenched at once.
It felt completely different from what had happened that afternoon.
I was being touched in the same place. But when it was Master touching me, I knew where I was and how to respond.
He twisted the plug several times.
My back arched. "Master..."
I had not come in a long time, and the second appointment had already churned up a mess of feelings inside me. Now it took almost nothing to pull me fully into arousal.
"Master... 6870 can't hold out much longer..."
My voice shook. I was nearly crying.
"Can't what?"
Master rotated the plug again, slowly and precisely.
"My cock... trapped in the cage... I can't hold it back... I'm going to... I'm going to come..."
Master withdrew his hand.
He nudged the inside of my thigh with the toe of his shoe. "Turn around."
I turned at once and sat back on my heels at his feet.
He raised one foot and brushed the side of his leather shoe against my chin.
I pressed my face to it immediately, the tip of my nose touching the smooth leather.
"Do you have the right to come?" Master asked.
"No, Master."
"Then what is your cock for?"
I lowered my head. "To make money for you, Master."
"What else?"
"To obey you."
"What else?"
"...For you to use."
Master laughed softly and pressed his shoe harder against my face, flattening my cheek against the leather.
"That's enough," Master said. "You've been through enough today."
I immediately lowered my forehead beside his shoe again.
Master turned to Porter. "When I first met 6870, I thought he was the naturally obedient type."
My head remained lowered, but my ears grew hot.
"He barely needed any training. He already knew how to crawl under a man's feet."
"Only when he's with you, Master, I think," Porter said softly.
I whipped my head toward him and bared my teeth with a sharp hiss.
Porter lowered his head at once.
Master patted me on the head. "He does like to provoke me from time to time."
His tone was calm, as though he were describing a minor defect in something he had owned and used for years.
"I've punished him plenty for it," Master continued. "Yet he never learns."
He paused.
"I suppose that's what people call a brat."
Porter finally laughed.
In that moment, the sticky feeling that had clung to me all day seemed to loosen a little.
I was still kneeling at Master's feet. My ass still hurt. The plug was still inside me. Yet the vague unease from earlier slowly began to fade.
I pressed my forehead against the floor beside Master's shoe.
This place really did make me feel safe.
Even when it was humiliating.
Even with Porter, the newcomer, kneeling beside me.
Master nudged my knee with his foot. "Enough. Stop acting like a pet."
I looked up.
"You were here before Porter," Master said. "From now on, you're his big brother in this house."
Big brother.
The words made me uncomfortable.
They sounded too proper.
Too unlike anything that belonged in a relationship like ours.
"Get up."
I shifted my weight and stood.
Master looked toward Porter again. "6870 isn't reliable around the house."
The corner of my mouth twitched, but I did not dare object.
Master looked at me. "But he's meticulous when cleaning and servicing chastity devices, and he's valuable in the field."
"I could tell," Porter said at once. "Big Brother was very thorough when he cleaned my chastity cage yesterday."
Hearing him call me Big Brother made the skin between my shoulders prickle.
"That's one of his strengths," Master said. Then he turned to Porter. "You have strengths of your own."
Porter did not show much expression at the praise.
He only lowered his head and lightly touched the collar with his fingers.
I suddenly admired him.
If Master praised me like that, my eyes would probably light up.
Porter seemed to take the words in and tuck them away somewhere deep inside himself.
Master turned to me. "6870, strip."
I began to undress.
The work shirt. The tactical belt. The work trousers. White socks. Underwear.
One piece at a time.
The clothes were damp with sweat after a full day outside, and they smelled bad. Dust from the stairwell clung to the cuffs of my trousers, and the soles of my white socks were stained dark with grime.
At last I stood naked in the living room, wearing nothing but the black chastity cage and the plug inside me. The soles of my feet were slightly red from spending the entire day in work shoes.
Master pushed the pile of clothing toward Porter with the toe of his shoe.
My pulse jumped.
"Wash these."
Porter lowered his head at once. "Yes, Master."
I could not stop myself. "Porter, Master picked out this uniform himself. Take good care of it."
Master drew in a slow breath.
Then he looked at Porter, his voice so calm it was frightening. "That uniform is worth a little more than 6870 is. Don't ruin it."
I looked up at him.
Porter gathered the clothing into his arms.
Master glared at me. "From now on, when he takes off his field uniform, take it from him with both hands. Inspect it, wash it, and hang it to dry."
"Yes, Master."
Porter carried my work clothes toward the bathroom.
---
I stood beside the desk completely naked and suddenly felt unnecessary.
Water soon began running in the bathroom.
Without the uniform covering me, I felt more like an object that had not yet been properly classified.
Master sat behind the desk and looked at me.
For a long time, he said nothing.
At last he rubbed between his eyebrows. "I was very anxious today."
I looked up.
Master rarely said things like that.
"You keep doing reckless things."
The words tightened something in my chest.
I lowered my head. "A client almost forced me to take his cock in my mouth today."
Master raised his eyes to me. "Do you think that was easy for me?"
I stopped speaking.
"Aren't you always the one reminding me about boundaries?" Master said. "Then why couldn't you keep those boundaries with someone outside our relationship?"
My fingers curled slightly. "It wasn't like that."
I had only wanted the trip not to go to waste again.
Master cut me off, his voice softening slightly. "I know you did it for the company. And for me."
I lifted my eyes.
Master glanced at the unevenly cut flyer lying beside the desk. "A man trained to serve and obey, with a clearly defined function, sent out for other men to use—it sounds very convenient."
He paused.
"But a person is not a tool."
I said nothing.
"Your problem is that you have feelings for me," Master said. "Not only dependence. Not only obedience."
I kept my head lowered, my fingertips resting against the sides of my thighs.
"You did not compromise today for yourself," Master continued. "You were trying to earn the money back for me."
He said it very softly.
Yet it hurt more than anything else he had said.
Master looked toward the window.
There was no real view beyond it, only a few lit windows in the building opposite ours.
"As an employer, I may not be much better than any exploitative boss outside," Master said. "I take even more from you. And you have far less ability to resist me."
I spoke at once. "Master isn't—"
He looked at me.
I closed my mouth.
"That's why there are things I can't bring myself to ask of you."
"You can ask anything of me, Master," I said softly.
He was silent for several seconds. "Forget it."
"Please tell me, Master," I said softly.
He looked at me. "As a slave, you have always been loyal."
Loyal.
The word felt heavy.
And beautiful.
Master seemed to see my reaction.
Or perhaps he saw it and chose not to expose it.
"You are my slave," he said. "You belong to me, but I've never forgotten that you're still a person. Otherwise, we would never have made it this far."
"Yes, Master."
"Now you are also my employee." He looked directly at me. "So I keep trying to separate these things. I will not pay you less because you are my slave. Nor will I pay you more because you are my slave."
"Yes, Master."
"There are other people who could love me," Master said. "And there are other people who know how to think on their feet. But right now, there is only one person who belongs to me completely and can be shaped into what I want."
Something pressed against my chest.
"So I have a simpler method," he continued. "Abandon all those chaotic thoughts. Your love for me. Your habit of making decisions for the company. Your need to protect other people. Translate all of it into one thing."
I looked up.
"Obedience."
The only sound in the living room was the water running in the bathroom.
Master looked at me. "Become the slave employee I want. FT-6870."
Those were not things a person could simply put down.
"I don't know how," I said quietly.
"For example, whenever you feel that you love me, complete one of my instructions. Whenever you want to decide something for me, ask me first. Whenever you want to prove your value, finish the procedure."
Master watched me.
"Slowly, your love will be translated into obedience."
"Will it become pure dependence?" I asked.
"I don't know," Master said. "But the more closely you obey in the way I require, and the closer you come to the shape I want, the better I'll know how to treat you."
He watched me.
"But first, you have to show me you can do it."
I lowered my head.
Being a person—I knew what that meant.
It was the last thing keeping me from falling completely apart.
Yet for some reason, when I heard the designation FT-6870, my body reacted before the rest of me did.
I was afraid.
And excited in a way I could not admit aloud.
Master saw it.
"Master," I said softly.
"Speak."
"Then... perhaps we should try."
I was simply too easy to ignite.
Especially when Master pressed me downward into a place that was lower, cleaner, and more useful.
Part of me even thought that, since I had already come this far, how would I ever know what I could be trained into unless I tried?
Master leaned back in his chair. "I almost forgot."
He looked at me.
"You were born to kneel at my feet."
The water in the bathroom stopped for a moment.
Then it started again.
Louder than before.
Master glanced in that direction but said nothing.
He picked up the unopened shipping box beside the desk and pushed it toward me. "Open it."
"Yes, Master."
I used a utility knife to cut the seal and removed what was inside.
It was a set of base layers.
The material was firmer than ordinary underwear. The waistband carried the company mark:
LockCare Services
Below it, in smaller letters:
FT-6870
Master laid the pieces on the desk. "You used to be allowed to remain naked at home because back then you were more like my sex slave, house slave, or pet. But now things are different."
He pushed the base layers toward me. "Start with these."
The top was a close-fitting sleeveless base layer.
The fabric was thin but not soft. Once on, it would define the lines of my shoulders, chest, and waist. Fine ventilation mesh ran beneath the arms and along the sides.
"From now on, whenever you're here, you'll wear this unless I tell you otherwise," Master said. "Remember what you are now."
I lifted the base layer and ran my fingers across the letters FT-6870.
Field technician.
Showcase model.
Slave.
Master looked toward the bathroom again.
The water was still running.
At last, Master called toward the bathroom, "Porter, aren't you done yet?"
The bathroom went quiet for an instant.
"Almost done, Master," Porter answered through the door.
"It takes me a while to wash them too," I said before I could stop myself.
The water continued for a while.
It did not sound like someone washing clothes.
It sounded more like someone pressing an unspeakable sentence into the water again and again.
---
A while later, Porter finally came out carrying the damp uniform, freshly wrung out.
He had washed it almost too thoroughly, as though he had tried to scrub away every trace of the day.
Master stood. "Take the butt plug out, shower, and put on the new base layers when you're done."
"Yes, Master."
Master looked at Porter. "Come into the bedroom with me."
Porter's arms tightened around the clothing, then quickly relaxed. "Yes, Master."
It wasn't as though I had ever liked sleeping in Master's bed.
I preferred the floor.
Or the couch.
Master reached the bedroom door and looked back at me. "6870."
"Yes, Master."
"Don't overthink things tonight. Get some sleep."
"Yes," I said softly.
After the bedroom door closed, the living room suddenly fell quiet.
I showered and put on the new base layers.
When the fabric settled against my body, I felt as though I had been fitted back into my number.
I lay down on the couch, picked up my phone, and opened my chat with Porter.
The message field was empty.
I thought for a while before sending a single line.
[6870] Porter, are you happy?
[PORTER] I am. Of course I am.
He answered too quickly.
So quickly that he seemed not to have needed to think at all.
[6870] It might be hard at first.
[PORTER] Mm. That's true.
[6870] Are you working tomorrow?
[PORTER] Yes.
Porter's ordinary life had not paused just because he had found a Master.
I continued typing.
[6870] Moving in so suddenly will take some getting used to. Is there anything I can help with?
[PORTER] No, I can manage. Master said he'll drive me to work tomorrow.
My thumb paused over the screen.
After several seconds, I typed a single word.
[6870] Okay.
I stared at the one-word reply. Even to me, it felt cold.
I added another line.
[6870] At least Master knows where to draw the line.
I regretted it almost as soon as I sent it.
It did not sound comforting.
It sounded more like a warning to Porter—or perhaps a warning to myself.
Porter replied with a question mark.
[PORTER] ?
I typed several words, then deleted them all.
[6870] Nothing.
A while later, the phone lit up again.
[PORTER] Big Brother, from now on, you're my big brother.
I stared at the sentence, my brow slowly tightening.
It was a strange way to become brothers.
We had not grown up together.
We had not been through anything together.
We had not chosen each other.
Master had simply said a few words, and suddenly I had a younger brother.
Another message followed almost immediately.
[PORTER] I only just arrived, and there are still many things I don't understand. I'll probably need your guidance from now on, Big Brother.
I rested the phone against my chest.
He was probably choosing his words very carefully.
And trying just as hard to be obedient.
I even thought it might be good that Porter had come here.
But he had taken some of Master's attention away from me.
And when it came to caring for people and handling things around the house, he might be better suited than I was.
If I followed what Master had told me earlier, I should not have been thinking about any of this.
FT-6870 did not need to be happy.
Nor did he need to be unhappy.
He only needed to obey.
[PORTER] You seem unhappy, Big Brother.
I looked at the message and let out a short laugh.
I deleted the reply I had already written.
[6870] How could I be? Now I have someone to wash my clothes, and you've found somewhere you belong.
Porter was quiet for a while.
Then he answered.
[PORTER] I know. I meant that I heard what you and Master were saying from the bedroom.
I stared at the screen.
Now I really was a little unhappy.
[6870] It's late. Go to sleep.
[PORTER] All right. Good night, Big Brother.
I looked at the final four words and did not reply.
The screen slowly went dark.
I turned onto my side, and the FT-6870 lettering at my waist pressed into my skin against the couch.
I actually liked those letters.
Master was always right.
If I became FT-6870, many things might become simpler.
I would not need to wonder which of us Master needed more.
FT-6870 only needed to obey.
No distracting thoughts.
No excess love.
Only waiting for an order, carrying it out, and then waiting for the next one...
