Thursday, January 19, 2012

No Matter

It was the slightest touch, imperceptable to anyone save the two of them, but it was enough to seal her fate. The electricity in that simple act was apparent, screaming in her every nerve. She loved him, therefore she was lost.

He didn't allow love, didn't want it, didn't need it. He sought discipline, order, obedience. And she gave all of these, asking little for herself. Her only wish, her only goal, was to please him. But now that she had broken his rule, that she had shifted in the slightest way, it was over.

There was love and their was submission. He allowed the deep affection of subjugation. He allowed the attachment, the wanting this position would naturally encourage. But he made it clear, very clear, that if her emotions grew beyond those previously negotiated, if she longed for more, she was not allowed to keep quiet. She was not allowed to push her emotions aside. She must, was required, to tell him.

As per their contract, she politely requested a meeting. He chose coffee at a shop he liked to frequent. Walking through the door, she knew which was his favorite spot: in the corner upstairs by the back windows, with a little table and two chairs, the only two chairs that matched in the entire shop. He would look out on the diplapidated parking lot, at the tall trees, at the cars and trucks and middle class houses, just sitting and thinking. She always wondered what he was thinking.

When she climbed the stairs, he was there, sipping his coffee. Her tea was steaming on the table in front of the chair next to his. She was grateful she didn't have to wait. No gut wrenching worry, no playing out of their conversation over and over til he appeared. To be fair, they both liked to arrive early, always, so his beating her should have been expected. But she was not in her usual state. She anticipated this would be a heart ripping goodbye.

She took off her coat, resting in on the back of her chair. She sat, sipped her tea carefully, and took a deep breath.

"I have fallen for you." He sat, sipping his coffee, looking out the window, no immediate change evident. She was grateful for the warmth of the mug in her hands. Indeed, it helped keep her hands from shaking.

"I asked for this meeting because you made it very clear when we first negotiated our contract that should my feelings ever develop beyond what we agreed to, I had to come to you immediately."


"In the foyer at Stephanie's dinner party two nights ago. I got our coats, helped you with yours, and then put on mine. As I buttoned up, you so delicately brushed a strand of hair from my face. That's when I felt it. I kept my head tilted so that you wouldn't see my eyes, so that I wouldn't have to look into yours. I feared what would happen if you saw how I felt in that moment."

He took a long deep breath.

"Yes, I noted that interaction, not completely understanding why though. Not until now."

Her eyes began to water. Though she knew she could not have prevented the feelings, she felt she had let him down, the only man she wanted so desparately to please. But still her inner strength kept her from allowing her tears to fall. It was time to settle on their fates.

"Sir, as your contracted submissive, under the directives we set forth six months ago, I have to now ask you what you want to do."

He did not answer. He continued to stare out the window. She knew the look on his face. He was thinking, calculating. But what would he decide? He tilted his head back, finished his coffee, and set down the mug. Finally, he looked at her.

She did not recognize the glint in his eye, could not read his face as she had so many times before. This was something different. What was this look? If she had looked up that night in the foyer, she would have seen the same face that now stared at her.

He reached into his leather messenger bag, pulled out a manilla envelope, and place it on the table. She knew it contained their contract.

"Since the terms of our agreement no longer apply..." He pulled out the contract. "I wish to alter them."

Alter them? "Sir? still wish to have me?"

"You thought I would not?"

"But I..."

"Your affections have grown. You came to me almost as soon as you knew. You have followed my instructions to the letter. Why would I release you?"

"I just thought..."

"Besides, you are not the only person whose feelings have...shifted." She quickly inhaled, but then held her breath, taking in the earthquake his statement caused in her. My Sir...he feels it too.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a long thin box. He placed it on the table and slid it to her. Setting down her tea, she slowly picked up the box and opened it. Inside was a necklace with a lock charm. The delicate nature of the metal hid its weight, both in heaviness and meaning.

"Will you accept my offer to be my collared slave?"


"Yes or no?"

"Yes Sir. Yes."

He stood, walked behind her, took the collar from the box, and placed it around her neck.

When did he...? How did he...? How long had he...?

Hearing the click of the lock on the back of her neck finally pushed one single tear from her eyes.

No matter.

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