“I’m sorry for your loss. I lost both of my parents shortly after my wife left me.” Since they were sharing history, she might as well learn of his past.
She nodded and looked sympathetic. “I’m sorry. My husband died a little more than two years ago.”
“I’m sorry as well. Now, enough sorrys. Time to move this discussion on to how we’re going to spend the next three days. I’d like to move you into my suite this afternoon, and we can begin with some basic shibari ties. Tomorrow we can go to the Dungeon and work on some more advanced work. Do you have any issues with being bound?”
Mallory sat for a moment thinking before slowly moving her head side to side. “I don’t think so, but I’ve never been tied up before.”
“Then we’ll take it slow and if you have problems or feel panicky or anything hurts, I want you to say your safe word.”
“Yes, Sir,” Mallory agreed immediately.
“And about your safe word”–he grinned–“why pickles?”
“I hate them, except if they’re on hamburgers. I would never say the word any other time, so I figured it would make a good safe word.”
“Good thinking, bunny. Pickles it is. Or as you said earlier, you can use red, which is the universally recognized safe word in the BDSM world.”
“Yes, Sir,” Mallory said, looking at the last cookie on the plate.
Nudging the plate in her direction, he said, “Go ahead and eat it, bunny.”
Instead of snatching it up, she picked it up and broke it in half. Extending the hand with the larger half across the table, she asked, “Share it with me?”
Instead of taking the piece she offered, he reached across the table and plucked the smaller half from her other hand. “Thank you, bunny, I will.”
Before she could object, he popped it into his mouth and began chewing while wearing a grin. She giggled as she took a bite of the half he’d left for her.
Chapter Eight
“Umm, it’s not much, but we don’t spend a lot of time here,” Mallory felt she had to justify the suite she shared with Caren, the service submissive who’d trained her to work in the Dungeon. “I’m grateful for this space, and not having to live in the basement or share some big room with fifteen other women.”
She led him into the two-bedroom suite with a shared living room and kitchen combination. At least each of their bedrooms had its own bathroom, which was a major plus when her suitemate took an hour in the bathroom before their work shifts.
“If you’ll wait here, I’ll pack a few things and be right back,” she said when Fletcher looked around, but said nothing.
“I’ll come help,” he said, following her into her bedroom.
While she wanted to argue, only so he wouldn’t see her sparse belongings, or the fact that she’d done nothing to personalize her private space, Mallory said nothing. She had no idea what she would need for the next three days and hoped that Master Fletcher would.
She only hoped he wasn’t so disappointed with her room that he changed his mind about taking her on as his rope bunnysubmissive. Though she was hesitant, she really was looking forward to seeing if bondage was everything that she’d heard.
Mallory grew tense as they entered her bedroom that was furnished with a bed, dresser, and small desk with wooden chair pushed under it.
“Have a seat, bunny,” Master Fletcher said as he crossed to the closed door that hid the closet.
She cringed as he opened the door to expose the majority of her wardrobe—one other sleeveless dress, three black tunic shirts, her denim jacket, and three service uniforms for the Dungeon. There were also a pair of white and a pair of black cloth sneaker/clogs on the floor along with the suitcase she’d come to Rawhide Ranch with.
Without a word, the man moved to the dresser and opened all the drawers one at a time. She knew what he’d find there, too. A half dozen pairs of bikini panties, three white bras, four pairs of jeans and three pairs of dark gray leggings in the top drawer. The others were all empty.
Her sketchbook and a cloth pouch full of pens and pencils were piled with a notebook on the desk. The notebook was filled with materials from the classes she’d taken over the last three months. The portfolio she was building was tucked behind the desk to keep anyone from finding it.
At least she’d done laundry that morning so there wasn’t a pile of dirty clothes in the corner as there had been the day before.
Once he’d moved all her clothes from the top drawer to the top of the dresser, he glanced at her. She was thankful she did not see pity in his expression as he asked, “Do you always live so minimalistically? Or have you just not gone shopping for anything new since coming to Rawhide?”
Mallory shrugged and dropped her gaze to her fingers laced together in her lap. “A little of both, I guess. I weara uniform when I’m working in the Dungeon and I haven’t felt like shopping in the Ranch store or driving into Porter’s Corner. Clothes have never been something I stressed over as long as they’re comfortable and cover everything that should be covered.”
She was surprised when Master Fletcher chuckled as he moved to stand in front of her. “Stand up, bunny.”
