James
“Wait here. Listen in.”
He nods unhappily.
Charlotte’s there, staring out of the window. For several days she would only wear jeans, covering her bruises I think, embarrassed by them. Now, largely healed, she wears a simple skirt and a woollen top against the winter.
Although she is physically recovered, her cuts and bruises healed, emotionally the wounds are showing. Her sheer unhappiness gnaws at me.
They love each other….
They want each other…
Yet somehow, they can’t speak….
Enough already….
“Charlotte.”
She doesn’t move, continuing her vigil. “Master?”
Dominate….
“I expect you to look at me when I address you.”
Her shoulders shrink in as she turns, seemingly facing me, but not meeting my eye. “Sorry, Master.”
And I don’t speak. I wait.
After a few seconds, she looks up, takes in my appearance, and now I don’t meet her eye, instead straightening my jacket and shirt sleeves, adjusting my cuffs, before looking up to be sure I have her attention.