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“You’re softer, and kinder and more open.”
“Not the hard ass I used to be, huh?” he looks amused. “You suppose that’s all gone?”
“Oh, I hope not. I mean…” I blush again, and try to hide my face. I feel myself flirting with a man I once loved—and maybe still do. Certainly the lust remains. I’m hot everywhere, a million desires surfacing all at once. I look back at him, straight into the deep blue of his eyes. “Would you do a scene with me?” I wonder. My lips part as I lick them wet. I’m breathing heavier and there’s a sharp spasm in my belly, my cunt clutching. As I wait for him to answer, I’m afraid he’ll say no.
“Bernard tells me you were with Lowell Lockhart,” he alters the mood with the comment.
“Yes, as his house slave and stable pony,” the admission seems embarrassingly self-revealing.
“Tell me how he trained you.”
It’s a simple request. I’m under no obligation to honor it, and yet I begin the story as though both of us know I’ll tell him everything. “He was strict, methodical and there were million rules to follow. I was punished often, even for the smallest things. I gave to him and little to myself. Frankly, there wasn’t anytime for that. His world consumed mine and he consumed me. He owned me. I suppose when he thought I was ready—what made me ready I’m not sure—he finally began the training with harness and bridle. I learned to prance proudly, to wear my bit with determination and humility. He practiced me endlessly.”
“I’d like to see that.”
And I’d like to show him, but I don’t say so. I can’t tell him, not yet.
“I took a great deal of punishment for any error and I learned how to follow the discipline rigorously.”
“And did you like that life?” he asks.
“No, I didn’t like it. But I needed it. Excuse the pun, it reined me in.” I try to laugh, but Heinrich looks so serious. “I’ve been writing and painting more because of it.”
“He took away the edge in you,” he says. “You’re a more peaceful woman, Anna.”
I want to cry again.
“So, does that mean you’ll do a scene with me?” I’m still hoping.
“And pick up where we left off? No.” He shakes his head.
“No?”
“A scene? No, Anna.”
“Ah…” How do I hold in my disappointment?
“But maybe we can start over. I’m not good at being intimate like this, but I know I don’t want a lot of meaningless scenes with subs that come and go.”
“I like that. I don’t want it meaningless between you and me. I know it wouldn’t be easy, it might even be the stupidest thing we’ve ever thought of… “
“But we could try,” he finishes my thought.
“Yes, we could,” I agree. “I can be less sniveling and selfish and testy. I don’t feel that way anymore.”
He nods as though he believes me. “And I hope I’m not as remote, Anna. Getting sideswiped by Delia taught me something.”
***
The shop is closed for the night. I’m working with a single light on in the back. It’s hardly visible from the street. I hear his footsteps somewhere behind me, and my body bristles, the hair on the back of my neck tingling—, as does my pussy below. I gave him a key a week ago but had no idea when he’d come to me. I’ve waited expectantly for him each night, and gone to bed disappointed but still apprehensive and hopeful. He could show up anytime, or perhaps, not at all. That would bother me most.
I know him now, by the soft footfalls, the scent of him, the way my breathing changes, the sixth sense I have to know that Heinrich’s near.
By the light over my desk, I finally see an alteration in the shadows around me. I stop my pen mid-stroke waiting for his next move, staring ahead into the dark.
Suddenly a whip hits the chair beside me, talons flying. I jump, then settle back eyeing at the slender thongs of leather that are scattered over the wooden seat. He’s still not said a word, and I feel commanded to silence. I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I want Heinrich. I want him again as my master, and I want the love my dreams promise—from him.
He draws the end of a cane down my back. My body jumps, twitching everywhere. Then he draws closer, tossing a collar on my desk. I reach for it hesitantly and because he doesn’t stop me, my nervous hands draw it around my neck and buckle it tightly. Though before I finish, he speaks, “Don’t do this, Anna, unless you really want it all.”
