Mistress, Please by Anastasia Vitsky

Author:Anastasia Vitsky [Vitsky, Anastasia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B011JL783U
Goodreads: 25478633
Published: 2015-01-01T03:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

“Your behavior was intolerable.” Stan hefts my medium paddle and swats on top of the plain white cotton panties I gave Trinity a few minutes ago.

She takes a deep breath, knees apart and bent, letting out a gust of air. She lurches forward with the first impact, but she keeps steady despite the initial swaying.

“Excuse me?”

I give a mental eye roll. Too many lines sound better in fiction than reality. If I were Trinity, I would tell Stan he is excused. Instead, Trinity gives a soft exclamation of pain. “I’m sorry.”

By the time Stan finishes the last badly aimed stroke, Trinity has gone pale. I escort Stan to the door as fast as I can and return to my girl huddled on the floor. She rocks back and forth, despite the pain it must cause, and weeps with silent tears.

“Come here,” I say, wanting to bring her to the couch or even bed, but she lowers her head and covers the back of her neck. She looks like the old Trinity, the one who woke from night terrors and dropped items whenever I touched her without warning. I learned early on to approach her from the front, to let her see me, and to connect by voice before making physical contact.

This time, the voice is not enough. She draws her legs to her chest, biting the fabric covering her knees. I hold out my hand to her, but she stares into space. She’s drifting, not into ordinary sub space, but the secret Trinity space where Gracie may not follow. She thinks I don’t know, but it’s because I’ve let her throw up the walls before. Whether it was her safeword or emotional distress or meltdowns, she called the shots whenever she felt too vulnerable.

This time, we’ll do things my way. As we should have done ten years ago.

“I’m going to touch you,” I say, even though she can’t understand my explanation. Not now. “I want to give you something to eat and drink, and you need warmer clothes or a blanket. Trinity.” She stares blankly, and I move forward. “Trinity, it’s time. You don’t have to come back to me yet, but we need to care for your body. The shock will be worse otherwise.” She shudders as I lift under the arms to walk her to the living room. After placing her on the couch, I rummage through my fridge for an appropriate snack. A yogurt drink will give her sugar, but she needs warmth. I pop the rice cooker open, scoop a few spoonfuls into a small bowl, and add cheese, soy sauce, sesame oil, sesame seeds, and a sprinkle of sweet and salty shredded seaweed. It’s a plain snack for children, something both warm and comforting. A fried egg would add protein if it didn’t make her gag. I take both items and a small bottle of water, and I return to the living room to set the tray on the lacquered floor table. Trinity has not moved.

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