That night, I sit up late, waiting with trepidation for Archer to arrive and deliver his promised punishment. All of my emotions buzz under my skin: nervousness, excitement, a tiny fear that I’ll hate whatever he does, a bigger fear that I will enjoy it.
I keep the baby monitor on nearby, but so far the night has been so quiet, even Mia seems sound asleep.
I’m awake though. As the hours tick by, I start to wonder why I’m bothering.
Archer still isn’t here.
Maybe he never intended to arrive at all. Maybe my punishment had always been just to wait.
Or maybe he wanted me to seek him out.
What kind of sicko would make someone voluntarily walk to their own punishment? Probably one that will then view that as consent.
Maybe it is consent. Maybe I want to consent.
I flop down on my mattre
