He looked like any man off the street, except for those flashing eyes. His voice was soft, and sounded like sand running through an hourglass. “This...is the place between places, the time between times,” he smiled at me. “Welcome to my home.” He gestured to the room, his arms wide. The space was small and cozy. A king bed lay in one corner. In another corner a small kitchen, a bathroom in the other, and then there was my corner, which was the chair surrounded by full bookshelves. I didn’t see. The weeks and months of conditioning, subtle hints, gentle nudges, the gradual rationing of affirmation and condemnation, praise when I was a good girl, admonishment when I was bad. Mistress had sculpted in me a perfect pet, utterly devoted, utterly besotted, willing to do whatever she asked, whenever she asked it.I took her foot in my hands, barely able to breathe, overwhelmed by the sensations that were flooding my brain. How her toes danced under nylon, how her sole felt under my fingertips,. More

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