Normally I would remind her of that, circle around her and massage that pretty pussy, asking her why she was bare for me. And she’d say, “Because I’m to always be available for you, master.”
No. Bad. That was the sexual inserts in my day to day dominance. Not the kind we’re going for right now, jackass. Take a bath, Tuesday, and take as long as you need.” I needed to give her space or I’d start doing that shit automatically.
“Don’t leave me,” she whispered.
Ah, hell. Of course I couldn’t give her space. “I won’t.”
Still she stared at me, not looking at the bath. I waited for her to obey me, and yes I’m fucking capable of patience especially when I’m in love and she’s traumatized. And sure enough she finally voiced a little of her pain. “I got turned on.” Tears filled her eyes. “Even when I knew it wasn’t you, it still didn’t go away.”
“And I got hard off seeing you struggle, baby. But I still felt rage and I still wasn’t okay with it. Your body reacts to fear, Tuesday. That’s not something you can control and it’s not a psyche problem. It’s who you are.”
She still stared at me for a little while but then she nodded. “I… I could see that. You can’t even control it?” She asked it with a shy grin and I smiled.
“Fuck no. Come on, Tuesday, before the water gets cold.” Somehow, hearing that from me seemed to do a little bit of the trick and I was abruptly very glad that I was the first person Tuesday went to. There were a lot of other people who wouldn’t see it that way and a lot of other jackasses who would throw her under the bus for the games we played.
She settled down into the bath water, her expression still a little shellshocked but more alive and aware and she’d given me that grin. I didn’t touch her, just sat beside her and thought about how strange the events had been. Had I somehow inspired or had something to do with this? The coincidence of my games with Tuesday and this event seemed too great. And then there was the fact that movies were complete bullshit when it came to dramatic events. They were both not as dramatic as they were portrayed while being more dramatic in a different way. For instance there hadn’t been any screaming or sobbing, no breakdown during police questioning on Tuesday’s part. As for the police interrogations, they had been procedural, pre-written instructions that worked.
But then there were the subtle things that were more dramatic, like that wary look in Tuesday’s eyes when she glanced at the bathroom door. Like the way she touched her neck when she saw her reflection in the water, knowing the marks were there, and the way she sat still so stunned in the water. I sighed when my attention turned to her. She was swirling her fingers in the bath absently, but not entirely present and not washing off. I hadn’t wanted to exert even this kind of control but my hands were reaching for her before the thought even finished in my mind. “Come here, pretty sub.”
She obeyed so naturally and readily, leaning forward and lifting her legs for me to bathe. When I reached her hair, I spoke with a little more command, too much of it. “Head back, Two, and don’t move.” It was as natural to me as obeying was for her now.
But still I flinched from commands and tried. So hard, I tried. But then I went to bed with her. Whenever we got ready for bed before now I would give her some demeaning order, something like telling her to bend over the foot of the bed with her legs spread. But I wouldn’t fuck her that way. I would merely stand behind her, touch her little pussy every now and again to see how wet she was, comment on it, and then I would ask her why I made her bend over if not to fuck. And she would be so aroused by then, just by the actions and questions and she would say, “For your viewing pleasure and my availability, master.”
“Good girl. You bend over like a little slut because you are my little slut.”
That night, I did none of that and I got her silken pajamas that she never wore anymore. For a moment she blinked but then dressed and curled into the bed. I thought the crash of adrenaline would be more than enough to make her sleep. It wasn’t.
She woke first with a soft cry until I wrapped one arm around her and caressed a few lingering marks from a previous session with the other. But then she woke again, tossing beside me, and I hesitated, but then tried my hand curled around her throat. And that worked for a while too, like a charm, enough that she stopped shivering and went still. But again it didn’t last. She shook all over beside me the next time and I sighed. Because I had a feeling I knew what would work. “Be right back.”
I got her cuffs and another matching set and some rope. I worked quickly when I went back to her, cuffing her wrists first and loosely tethering them together and to her collar’s O-ring. There was carefully not a lot of stricture but enough that she would feel the tug when she tossed. I did her ankles the same way while she stared up at me. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
For her answer, I kissed her forehead and curled beside her again. “Don’t be.”
And after that, she didn’t shift at all.
————
No matter my intentions, the only thing that soothed her random little shocks of terror was dominance. When she was scared to leave for her store, I commanded her on what to wear and the route she was to take, telling her to call me when she got there. And, like an angel, she nodded and said, “Yes, master” and obeyed gladly. A few days afterwards she did something she’d never done before.
She tested me. I had taken to giving her small commands when she left to make her feel safe and we had silently fallen into the routine of her staying at my penthouse. And through anything she was to call me if something held her up or if anything at all happened. And then one night she was thirty minutes late.
It was just thirty minutes, but the problem was it was exactly thirty minutes. So I knew exactly why she was doing it. Beyond that, there was fear and anticipation in her eyes as soon as she walked in the door. She looked right at me as if in expectation and stood dead still while I smiled thoughtfully, setting my scotch aside and studying her. I hadn’t touched her since it’d happened, hadn’t had sex because I thought it was too soon. But that, too, posed a problem. Our sex life had exploded together and I had taken to indulging in her and her pain so much that three times in a night was a lazy movie date night. Now that had come to an abrupt halt and she was getting more and more restless.
“My, little Tuesday. This is the first time you’ve ever put me to trial, by my count. Which leads me into a predicament. I could either be a bad master or a bad boyfriend at the moment, since adding strain is not, theoretically, a very good way to help you right now.”
She swallowed and shivered, but then stayed silent, staring at me as if waiting. I studied that look for a long while, noting that it was both wary and held a smallest bit of defiance. Not so much insolent defiance. No, this was more like the defiance of someone craving a little structure. And that was what made me decide. “Come here, little Tuesday.”