Possession. Servitude. This was what she had trained for, and he was a kinder Master than she would have thought possible.
His eyebrows drew together as he worked. His movements grew slower, more careful. The hard planes of his face had softened in the glow of the lamp, a lock of black hair fell over his eyes. He raised a different sort of awareness in her than obedience, as well, one of a woman to a man.
The way he focused on it was the way he focused on her, and she longed to see the outpouring of his intensity. In the same way she would trace any marks he granted her body, she wanted to see the wounds he cut into the wood.
He straightened and stretched his arms. His eyes caught hers.
“Bored, are you?” He swung his arms down, tilted his head from side to side as if to loosen tight muscles. “Told you to stay in the house. There’s books at least, if you like reading about metalworking.”
It almost sounded like teasing, the way his voice lowered. She cocked her head to the side.
“Come here.” He stepped aside to make room. At her hesitation, he said, “Don’t worry. I’m not planning on using this.”
She carefully stepped down from the bench and approached him. Truly, she knew better than this. A master was capricious, unstable. Harsh on the best days, but oh, there was worse. But his quiet intensity was a balm to unseen wounds. His stark kindness more seductive than the painful vibrating wands they used to induce her orgasms.
Looking down at the contraption, she tried to ignore his size, his heat at her side. At first it seemed that this piece had no carvings, until she cautiously circled the bench and saw the markings on the bottom rung. And they were upside down. She tilted her head, so that she could see the scene the same way a woman who was tied down on the bench would see it.
Another scene from The Odyssey. This time a woman with long golden hair stood naked on the beach while Odysseus was tied to the mast of his ship, desperate and wanting.
“Do you like it?” There was an uncertainty in his gruff voice that said this mattered.
It wasn’t simply the artwork that was beautiful, it was the reverence to the person who would be imprisoned here, hurt here. I’m just as much a slave as you, this said. She nodded.
He studied her. “I think you do understand. It’s your eyes. You speak with them.”
She stared up into his remote brown ones and wished he did that too. Looking up at him, the way his thick lashes framed his eyes, something stirred in her mind. Something dark and sinister, and she pushed it back where it couldn’t frighten her.
He turned back to the bench. “I’m making this for my brother, for his wedding present. He’d rather have this than a cheese platter. He runs an import/export business, and he already ships most of my stuff between here and the mainland. So there’s no reason I shouldn’t send it.”
He looked at her as if she might object then sighed when she didn’t. “I should be over it by now. Maybe that’s why you ended up here, subby. To teach me about forgiveness, about letting go of all this damned ugly pride. Well, tell me. What’s the secret then?”
Her gaze fell to the floor, demurring.
“No.” He lifted her chin. “There’s been enough looking at the floor. Look at me.”
She tried, but everything was a blur. He wiped a tear from her cheek.
“None of that either. At least, not unless I’m trying to hurt you. Here, give me a few minutes to clean up here and then I want to show you something. You’ve been a good girl. You deserve a reward.”
*
She jumped when she saw an iguana, only relaxing when she saw it was as still as the rock it sat on. He shook his head, but she could tell from the curve of his lips that he wasn’t really angry. His whole demeanor had relaxed since she had intruded on his work, and in her relief that she wasn’t in trouble, she relaxed too. The way they walked together was different too. She wasn’t following him, but walked beside. Wasn’t cowed by him, instead adoring. It felt wrong and delicious at the same time. If she suffered later, this would be worth it.
They walked along a well-worn path that eventually turned into rocks. When she winced at a sharp one under her bare foot, he paused. “Damn, I didn’t think of that. Do we need to go back?”
She was out of breath, exhilarated. No. Please.
He grinned, at least that’s what the small curve of his lips seemed like. Even that much seemed blinding. “What are we going to do then?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just pulled off his own boots and socks.