John will traipse behind her. Though um, hm. "Where exactly does the, like, house... start?" he asks, when they're in the basement. "Are we inside it now, down here? Were we inside it out in the gardens?" 

"We're definitely inside it now. The gardens are more ambiguous. It can see there, and it can tend the plants, but its options for interacting with people are more limited."

"Okay. We should, um, probably do the thing?" That's a rather awkward way of putting it. "Um. Are you ready to serve me?" 

"Yes, Master."

John grins. "Oh, I'm so glad." (Some small part of him starts to notice that there's not actually anything stopping him from ordering her to answer that way whenever he says the phrase, but the rest of it pushes that thought away. That would be a bad idea. For many reasons.) 

Then he pauses and frowns. "How... can we be sure it heard us, actually?" He should probably be trusting Rosy, Rosy said it would work, she was rather emphatic on the topic, but there's no obvious feedback and it's really hard to know for sure. 

"It heard us." The lights brighten affirmingly.

Oh. Well, that's confirmation enough. (He really shouldn't be doubting her. He really wishes he has a better way to communicate with the house. Hopefully it will come in time.) "Oh, good." He pauses and takes a breath. "Alright, let's go to the -- I mean, take me the rest of the way to the Master Bedroom, then," he adds, realizing halfway through that maybe he should have tried to make it a command, and shifting accordingly. 

"Yes, Master," she says happily, and resumes leading him up the stairs.

John lets her go a few steps ahead of him, so he can look up at her butt (and try and get a glimpse at other parts of her) while she's naked and going up stairs. He feels a little self-conscious about it (like he's doing something he shouldn't be doing) but he's pretty sure that Rosy doesn't mind (would actively encourage!) and also she's officially his now and so it's probably okay. 

She has a nice butt, it must be said. 

She has an excellent butt, and is very much enjoying the knowledge that John is getting such a good view of it.

Well, he's going to keep viewing it as they go up the stairs, then. It's harder than he'd like to get a view of anything else given the low light and the hair there, but John (mostly) doesn't mind. He can see at least some of her, um, outer labia (right?) through the blonde hairs down there, and the light is improving as they ascend. (Plus if he wants a better view even in the dimmer light of the basement he could... make her shave down there? No, he should think about that another time.) 

The light is getting better as they ascend out of the basement toward the main floor, and then even better as they ascend out of the main floor toward the second. You know, in case that helps.

It does! He's grinning about it. He does have to keep reminding himself that he's not doing anything illicit, here; that she wants him to be looking (and also that she belongs to him now and this means he can look at her all he wants, and boy that's hot to think about), but overall looking at his slave's naked body is a titillating (and arousing) experience. He's a little wistful when they reach the top of the stairs and he can no longer see what he was seeing. Though he will be getting a more direct look soon enough, 

Along the hall to the master bedroom they go, and when they get there, she puts down her clothes on a dresser and her backpack on the floor and turns toward John with a shy smile. It's pretty clear that she's looking forward to what they came here to do.

She's not the only one. 

He looks her up and down, grinning shyly himself, and then gathers himself and tells her "Come over here," making it an order. He's desperately thinking through how he wants things to go, and how best to get started, but that order should do to begin with. 

"Yes, Master," she says softly, walking toward him. She's blushing. Should she be blushing? You know what she shouldn't be doing, she shouldn't be overthinking whether she should be blushing. She's blushing and that's okay. She loves him and that's okay. It feels so good to be his.

Fuck, he's getting so turned on, it's making it hard to think. He wants to feel her mouth on his cock, and he wants it now, but he doesn't think he'll last (a flash of embarrassment remembering that fuckup) if he does that, and he has something more to do. "I, um, kneel," he says. Because he wants her to take his pants off and not for other reasons. 

"Yes, Master," she says happily, sinking gracefully to her knees on the floor in front of him. He hasn't told her what else to do, so she doesn't, but she is very much enjoying looking at him from this vantage and speculating about what he might want from her next.

John, likewise, is enjoying his own vantage point quite a bit. He wishes he could touch himself, but doing that while she's watching feels impolite, even though she's his (temporary) slave now. 

And he could ask always ask her to do it, couldn't he. (With her mouth, even...)

No, he can't fuck up again. "Take off my pants," which are currently visibly straining "slave," he says, straining even further as he says the word. "Um, undo them and pull them down," he adds, feeling really good as he can feel with certainty that his orders are being applied. "Boxers too." 

Even though he isn't fully settled into that confident tone and delivery that so reliably melts her brain on contact, it's still very hot to be given orders and feel them working. Even hotter given what the orders are. Even hotter to be called his slave and to watch what that word does for him.

She obeys, of course. She doesn't have a choice, not that she would use one if she had it. "Yes, Master," she says, because it feels good to say it, because it feels good to belong to him, because it feels good to not have a choice.

She shivers, a little, when her fingers brush against him through his boxers; she shivers even more when she comes back to get the boxers and his cock is standing tall, fully revealed, right in front of her face. But it's easy to control herself. She's not of two minds about what to do. She does very badly want to put her mouth on him, but he hasn't told her to and she knows it would go against his purposes, so it's a desire without temptation. Wanting him is more a form of worship than an input into her decision procedures.

Watching her slowly take off his pants has done nothing to calm him down, quite on the contrary, he's as hard as he's ever been. And he can almost feel her wanting to wrap her mouth around him (and fuck, he wants that), with how she looks at him, though clearly she has the self control to wait for orders. (He should have self control too. He's the one in control of her, and of himself. One little lick could hurt, no matter what his cock and desire are whispering at him.) 

Which means it's time to move on to... fuck, there's a step to take care of first. (He dithers, for a very long moment, over if he can just order her not to argue about it, because she's his and there shouldn't be anything in the way, but it's only temporary and she doesn't want to and he doesn't want to be evil.) "Um, I, um," he doesn't want to be evil! "w-where did you, um, say the condoms were?" He asks, stuttering far more than he wants to. 

Oh she loves him so so much. "In my backpack, Master. May I fetch them for you?"

"Please do," he says. And then, feeling like he hasn't been acting how he wants to (and wanting things to go better, to go perfect), tries to add more confidence to his voice: "and put one on me, slave, gentle and slow." Should he order her to crawl? He has suddenly realized he wants her to crawl, but he should have said that earlier when he was being too polite (damn it) and now it's too late. Maybe she'll do it anyways, she's done it before. (It's fine if she doesn't though.) 

Mmmmm it's so good when he does the voice. "Yes, Master."

She's on the floor, her destination is on the floor, crawling only makes sense. Also it's hot. Also she expects him to enjoy it. She indulges in one longing glance back at his cock as she goes, because she expects him to enjoy that too.

So she said 'fetch them' but they currently only need one; it's probably a good idea to keep the rest in a known location where they won't get, say, tangled up in his pile of clothes and disappear. Leaving them in the backpack would kind of contradict what she's been told, though, and that's uncomfortable even though it's fully within the spirit of his orders. She glances around for a solution to her problems, and sees the nightstand, not far from where John is standing. Perfect.

Box of condoms in hand, she crawls three-legged back to John, takes out a condom, reaches over to put the box on the nightstand, and takes a moment to gaze worshipfully up at his cock before she rises to an upright kneeling position and gets to work. Her fingers tingle with pleasure where they touch him. She has practiced this technique on carefully selected cucumbers and does an excellent job of rolling the condom down slowly as instructed. It would be inappropriate to get distracted daydreaming about what if the pleasure of touching him was mind control instead of a natural consequence of how into him she is, but she does file that thought away for later.

Most of what Rosy is thinking isn't visible to John, of course. He's rather distracted by other things anyways, what with Rosy crawling across the floor (yes!), and the bonus where she turned back to look at his cock is really hot. John is definitely turned on by how much she wants him. (And how hot she is in general.)

John has never had a condom on before. Having one put on by Rosy is a much more sensual experience than he expected (and Rosy seems to be enjoying herself as well, which he can't complain about), what with her soft fingers and her staring up at him (well, his dick, but that's more than fine) with reverence and lust. It goes on a bit tight, though very quickly he hardly notices it being there. (He does still wish he could do without it, it's supposed to be better without, but now is not the time). 

Okay. So. Now he actually gets to take her virginity. (And lose his own.) He's very excited. "Get up on the bed," John tells her, trying to be confident and commanding like he wants to be (and mostly succeeding). "Spread your legs" how far? He doesn't want to hurt her "wide enough so I can fuck you."