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Authors: Harte Roxy
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of her Master—of me.
I press my forehead against the door. Two hours ago, I was ready to jump her bones, now I’m afraid to be in the same room with her and I am not sure what’s happened to cause the change in how I feel. It wasn’t seeing Garrett, though seeing him reminded me of their bond. Learning of her inexperience made a definite difference, but it’s still not completely responsible for what I’m feeling. Sighing, it is a now or never moment, and mastering myself, I push open the door.
She lies on her side, facing away from the door. I approach her quietly in case she sleeps, but I know immediately that she is awake because she stiffens beneath the blanket.
I sit on the edge of the bed carefully, not touching her. “I know you’re awake, look at me.”
Rolling onto her back, she groans and I know it is sore muscles not the command that causes her discomfort.
“Are you okay?” I ask softly, seeking her eyes and finally making eye contact.
“I’m okay,” she answers, holding my gaze. It seems a good start.
“Hungry?”
“Not yet,” she whispers, her lower lip quivering into a pout. “I’m sorry.”
I stroke her cheek and draw my thumb over her pouting lip. “Whatever for?”
“I’m weak. You were right. Maybe I’m just not tough enough for you.”
There is honest desolation written across her features. Scooting closer to her, I lift her to pull her halfway into my lap, causing her to gasp.
“Long-term bondage is exhausting. Where do you hurt?”
“Everywhere,” she moans. I have no doubt.
“I’ll run you a bath; a good soak would be good,” I offer.
“Not yet. Did you mean what you said when you first brought me here about being honest enough to tell you what I need?”
“Yes.”
“Does that include asking you to just hold me?” Her lip dips out farther and I know it is not contrived.
Quivering, it is an honest pout. A tear slips and slides over her cheek.
“Do you need me to hold you?”
“Yes, Lord Fyre.” Her voice breaks, a prelim to the larger sob that wracks her body when I pull her fully into my lap.
“You were a very good girl caged, Sophia, you were very brave,” I commend her, stroking her head, letting her cry.
Chapter 4
“Constantly just to herself, mind! This is the quality of true passion.”
-George Meredith, Sandra Belloni
Kitten
I fell asleep in his lap, actually cried myself to sleep, and obviously he let me. Awake, I am still exhausted, and still held in his arms. He sleeps as well. I shift in his arms and he is awake instantly.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s okay,” he answers, looking down at his watch. “You’ve only been asleep an hour,” he says, shifting his weight to lie me on the bed. “Scoot beneath the blankets.”
I obey, gladly, every muscle on fire from too long in the cage. Stretching out, I moan, unable to help myself. Lord Fyre stands. “I’ll be right back,” he says before he disappears into the adjoining bathroom.
He leaves the door ajar and I can hear the sounds he makes, his piss hitting the water in the toilet bowl and then the water running as he washes his hands. I flush, embarrassed that I’ve overheard the intimacy of such a small thing as him using the bathroom. Was it only a few days ago that he caught my piss as I urinated out of desperation? Does it get any more intimate than that?
He returns with three pills, a glass of water, and a bottle of liniment, Icy Hot. “Ibuprofen,” he explains, having me open my mouth so that he can put the pills directly in. He holds the glass of water to my lips and helps me drink, washing down the pills.
“That was a very un-sadist thing to do, Lord Fyre.” I say bravely, thankful for the pain reliever.
“How do you know I am not thinking of my own comfort?” he asks.
I frown, not understanding, as he lays me back onto the pillow and takes my right arm between his hands. I had not noticed he had already squeezed a good size
I press my forehead against the door. Two hours ago, I was ready to jump her bones, now I’m afraid to be in the same room with her and I am not sure what’s happened to cause the change in how I feel. It wasn’t seeing Garrett, though seeing him reminded me of their bond. Learning of her inexperience made a definite difference, but it’s still not completely responsible for what I’m feeling. Sighing, it is a now or never moment, and mastering myself, I push open the door.
She lies on her side, facing away from the door. I approach her quietly in case she sleeps, but I know immediately that she is awake because she stiffens beneath the blanket.
I sit on the edge of the bed carefully, not touching her. “I know you’re awake, look at me.”
Rolling onto her back, she groans and I know it is sore muscles not the command that causes her discomfort.
“Are you okay?” I ask softly, seeking her eyes and finally making eye contact.
“I’m okay,” she answers, holding my gaze. It seems a good start.
“Hungry?”
“Not yet,” she whispers, her lower lip quivering into a pout. “I’m sorry.”
I stroke her cheek and draw my thumb over her pouting lip. “Whatever for?”
“I’m weak. You were right. Maybe I’m just not tough enough for you.”
There is honest desolation written across her features. Scooting closer to her, I lift her to pull her halfway into my lap, causing her to gasp.
“Long-term bondage is exhausting. Where do you hurt?”
“Everywhere,” she moans. I have no doubt.
“I’ll run you a bath; a good soak would be good,” I offer.
“Not yet. Did you mean what you said when you first brought me here about being honest enough to tell you what I need?”
“Yes.”
“Does that include asking you to just hold me?” Her lip dips out farther and I know it is not contrived.
Quivering, it is an honest pout. A tear slips and slides over her cheek.
“Do you need me to hold you?”
“Yes, Lord Fyre.” Her voice breaks, a prelim to the larger sob that wracks her body when I pull her fully into my lap.
“You were a very good girl caged, Sophia, you were very brave,” I commend her, stroking her head, letting her cry.
Chapter 4
“Constantly just to herself, mind! This is the quality of true passion.”
-George Meredith, Sandra Belloni
Kitten
I fell asleep in his lap, actually cried myself to sleep, and obviously he let me. Awake, I am still exhausted, and still held in his arms. He sleeps as well. I shift in his arms and he is awake instantly.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s okay,” he answers, looking down at his watch. “You’ve only been asleep an hour,” he says, shifting his weight to lie me on the bed. “Scoot beneath the blankets.”
I obey, gladly, every muscle on fire from too long in the cage. Stretching out, I moan, unable to help myself. Lord Fyre stands. “I’ll be right back,” he says before he disappears into the adjoining bathroom.
He leaves the door ajar and I can hear the sounds he makes, his piss hitting the water in the toilet bowl and then the water running as he washes his hands. I flush, embarrassed that I’ve overheard the intimacy of such a small thing as him using the bathroom. Was it only a few days ago that he caught my piss as I urinated out of desperation? Does it get any more intimate than that?
He returns with three pills, a glass of water, and a bottle of liniment, Icy Hot. “Ibuprofen,” he explains, having me open my mouth so that he can put the pills directly in. He holds the glass of water to my lips and helps me drink, washing down the pills.
“That was a very un-sadist thing to do, Lord Fyre.” I say bravely, thankful for the pain reliever.
“How do you know I am not thinking of my own comfort?” he asks.
I frown, not understanding, as he lays me back onto the pillow and takes my right arm between his hands. I had not noticed he had already squeezed a good size
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