Page 67 of Claiming Hannah


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Hannah raced down the stairs, gasping and crying. Her thighs were damp from her own pee. She probably would have died of embarrassment if she weren’t too busy freaking out. She needed to get down to the slave quarters to shower. She needed to get the hell out of this place. What had possibly made her think she could do this?

At the bottom of the stairs, she smacked headlong into someone, the force of the blow knocking her back on her ass. Hiding her face in her hands, she sobbed.

“Whoa, what’s this? Hannah, what’s wrong?”

Even in the midst of her tears, she recognized Anthony’s calm, deep voice. He sat beside her on the stair, placing his arm gently around her shoulders. “Are you hurt? What’s going on? Where’s Master Mason?”

As if Anthony’s voice had summoned him, she heard Mason at the top of the stairs. “Hannah, come back up here right now.”

“I can’t,” Hannah managed between sobs. “I don’t want to see him right now.”

“Mason,” Anthony said. “Give us a moment, please.”

Hannah sniffed and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand as she struggled to regain control. “I’m sorry,” she managed, unable to meet his gaze. “He… I just need… I want… I…” A strangled sob swallowed her words.

“May I, Master Anthony?”

It was Lucia’s soft, sweet voice.

“Of course. I’ll go talk with Master Mason.” As Anthony rose to his feet, he placed his hand briefly on the back of Hannah’s head, gently stroking her hair. Then he turned and headed resolutely up the stairs.

Lucia held out her hand, her face a mask of concern. “Let’s go down to the quarters where we’ll have some privacy. Then you can tell me what happened.”

Hannah allowed Lucia to lead her to the basement stairs. Even in the midst of tears she couldn’t seem to get under control, a rising sense of humiliation was taking over. She was making a scene, something she never did. If the ground had opened at that moment, she would have gratefully allowed it to swallow her whole.

When they got to the bottom of the stairs, Lucia said, “Let’s sit down and sort this out.”

“I need a shower first,” Hannah said. Heat rushed into her face as she forced herself to admit, “I peed myself.”

Lucia’s smile was kind. “You wouldn’t be the first trainee to do that. There’s no shame in it.”

As they walked together toward the communal bathroom, Lucia asked, “But why did you run away from Master Mason? He would have helped you through this. That’s part of his job as your trainer.”

“I just wanted to get away from him,” Hannah said with more vehemence than she’d intended.

At Lucia’s startled expression, Hannah forced herself to modulate her tone. “Things between Mason and me are getting too…complicated.”

Not wishing to dwell on that aspect of the whole confusing situation, she focused instead on what had just occurred. “IknewI shouldn’t have gone through with it,” she said angrily. “I never should have unchecked that box, damn it.”

At Lucia’s confused expression, she elaborated. “Knife play. I put it as a hard limit at first. Then, like a dope, I unchecked it.” She wiped at her eyes. “Damn it. I thought I could do this whole submission thing. But that session really freaked me out. I’m so confused right now.” She sniffedloudly, more tears rolling down her cheeks.

“It’s okay,querida,” Lucia said soothingly as she placed her hand lightly on Hannah’s shoulder. “And you’re right—a nice hot shower will help. Master Anthony will talk to Master Mason, and then we can get this all figured out.”

“Maybe,” Hannah said doubtfully.

In the bathroom, she unbuckled the slave collar and set it on the counter as the water heated. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were puffy, her nose red, but at least she’d stopped crying.

The shower did feel good. After she’d soaped and rinsed herself, she stood under the hot spray for several minutes. The aborted scene kept replaying in her mind in a horrible, humiliating loop. She just wasn’t cut out for this slave business, no matter how willingly she’d agreed to the revised terms.

Lucia was waiting when she stepped out of the stall, a large, fluffy towel in her hands. When Hannah had dried herself and brushed her damp hair back, Lucia held out her slave collar. “Don’t forget this.”

Hannah shook her head. “I don’t want it.”

Lucia frowned but didn’t challenge Hannah. “Okay. Let’s go sit down. I made you some hot tea with lemon and honey.”

Hannah kept her towel around herself as she curled up on one side of the loveseat. Lucia set the collar down beside her without a word. Turning toward the microwave, she removed a steaming mug and handed it to Hannah.

“Thanks,” Hannah said gratefully. The tea was hot and sweet, and just what she needed.

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