She obeyed. “Yes, master.”
I stood up from my chair and gestured to it while taking my belt off with my other hand. “That look in your eyes says that’s enough of a break for the both of us. I miss our playful nights together. Take your jeans off and bend over with your hands in the seat.” Again she obeyed quietly, but now there was a serenity in her eyes that made me satisfied to see. “Why am I doing this, Tuesday?”
She practically sighed the answer in the way a submissive would push her boundaries and then be reassured when they were, in fact, sturdy. “Because I didn’t follow your safety rules, master, when I trust you to keep me safe.”
My God, it was like a transformation before I even did it. Her entire stature was relaxed and waiting and pure happiness seemed part of her even though she had to know my punishments would be rough when everything about me was rough. “Count,” I commanded. “I want it nice and polite, little slave.”
She counted obediently and I gave her a nice, strict belting followed by time in the chastity belt with nothing in the anal toy attachment. I left that open instead so I could fuck her there while she suffered, and then left her in chastity while tying her down to a chair for dinner, feeding her to make her hotter.
After all that, even though it was punishment and because we both needed it, I took the belt off and fucked her pussy until she came. Three times.
————
That event turned out to be a stupid one, a freak bullshit incident, but the effects would reverberate in both of our lives. For instance, we didn’t talk about the fact that she lived with me after that. She just did for both of our peace of mind. And the police did eventually get back in touch with us. The man had been caught and there was a story and that story did suggest that I had a slight influence on what had happened.
The guy had a mental disorder was the short answer, and had gone off his medication. It was part of the reason why he was so reclusive and why he got along with Tuesday alright. Not well, but alright. The mental disorder wasn’t disclosed but it sounded awful close to what I knew of schizophrenia. Tuesday was sweet and patient and talked to shy people every day, so naturally he had been okay to talk to her.
But then he’d seen us together – and some of this was pure speculation on my part – but it seemed likely that he had seen me accost her outside her work a few times when I was being frisky and wanted to jump scare her. I would grab her from behind and have her in a choke hold while we grappled playfully. So the guy hadn’t been bad at all. My personal theory was that, in much the same way of a disconnected child, he had been merely copycatting, thinking that it was a forgivable action. As for why he had gone after Tuesday? No one really knew that, but he was getting the help he needed and Tuesday was safe again.
We still didn’t separate our lives from where we had become so intertwined. We started playing again and I felt myself come back into my old happy, almost sociopathic, playful version. I would visit her at work all the time when I got done with my day, especially when she held tournaments or dungeon campaigns. There was a fun joy in those nights and I loved watching Tuesday work. She joked with her workers and had a biting sense of humor, but it was so funny and charming that no one cared when it was sometimes assertive. Like when Tate was having a rough week and had evidently made a couple of mistakes that had cost Tuesday some time to fix and then messed up a ring on the tournament night? Tuesday had rolled her eyes at him with a fae grin. “Dear God, Tate, do me a favor and just don’t touch anything expensive in the store. I feel like it’d just break by some naturally assumed collateral damage at this point. And I’ll just clear my schedule for, like, two weeks just in case.”
To which he had put his face in shaking hands with shame, but he was still laughing and he made it through the night with Tuesday’s encouragement.
She was more than anyone deserved and there was also a bit of a bitch resting in her heart. She both naturally encouraged due to her submission and still had room for disdain for things like puppies. It amazed me how much she hated dogs. Seriously, who hated dogs? It wasn’t even fear, I learned. She just couldn’t stand how needy and clingy they were, according to her explanation. Not that it mattered since I didn’t have time for a dog, or the inclination to get one. It just made me laugh.
Things went back to normal in a way, even while some things would never be the same. My life, for instance, would certainly never be the same. With Tuesday living with me I learned that I was irrevocably in love with her and that I was going to marry her. One day I would. I didn’t know how the proposal would go, didn’t have a date, didn’t even have any plans at all on how to breach that subject. I knew it would require care and also knew that convincing her might be the most difficult thing I’d ever bloody well done, but I was determined.
First, I had to get her to admit that she loved me. And that was the pivotal point in everything really. That one thought. I gave her chance after chance and enough time for her heart to ever desire. She made me cookies and her eyes would shine with my pleasure. She would get me small gifts with a shy grin, would ask me how I liked her outfits. One morning she woke up before me and waited until I got out of my shower. For a minute I didn’t know what to think because her job was a later start than mine so there was no reason for her to be up. “Good morning, Tuesday. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
She grinned when I asked. “Oh, nothing. Just serving you your coffee.”
And she did have it. And that’s when I realized she had her hair in those French braided pigtails and was wearing that Osgood jersey… with nothing else. I laughed so hard because it made me that happy. And I gave her a kiss that ended with my hand around her throat while I bit her neck. “Do it again tomorrow,” I said in a horny growl.
But there came one night where I finally tired of giving her chances and decided enough was enough. Tuesday got home, having warned me that she would be late, and she was carrying a box when she walked in the door.
“Now, what’s this then?” I said it teasingly, knowing all the best ways to get a smile from her when she got me a surprise.
She did grin and she blushed furiously. “A present. For you, Flatline.”
Flatline. I was suddenly jarred by the name and realized that she hadn’t heard me say my name to the cops that night. Somehow, someway, she still didn’t know what it was. How? I hadn’t told her yet? I thought through and realized that no, I hadn’t. And she had never once asked, never once broken that rule I’d given her. “A present for me.” I laughed, but I was having, dear God, feelings. And a lot of them. She still didn’t even know my name and hadn’t even placed a damn bit of value on it, instead going beyond all that pretense and bullshit to love the man beneath it. And the monster too.