As we leave the building, my Master walking ahead of us, I decide that Michael is right. There is something about my Master´s stance, his body language. Michael leans towards me, his voice still low.
´It´s not about s*x, Charlotte, about other men. He´s your Master. And you reacted to Haswell; the way you should only react to him."
“Are you mad at me too?"
I´m not thrilled with you, no. And I´m going to make a prediction as well."
“Mmm? What?"
“You´re going to have another set of stripes on your ass this evening."
It doesn´t get to the evening. Back at the beach, as we get out of the car, my Master, who has been unusually silent all the way back, grabs me by the wrist. “You, Madam. Upstairs. Now." His tone is severe, his face unsmiling.
In the bedroom, he rummages through the drawer
