In time, I realize that the master’s hand is calm as it rests against my pubic mound, just as it did before. No playing fingers, no deft moments, just the steadying presence of his energy settling me down, drawing me back to my body, to the watching Ian, to this little barn in England with its horses and cow and the smells of the barnyard permeating my senses. My weary mind returns as well.
The depth of compassion I see in Benjamin’s eyes nearly stuns me for a moment when our eyes meet again. But that moment is quickly over. He steps away and is gone. I see him retreat, and a wave of grief passes over me. After this first big test of my submission, it’s good to know that I’m still longing for more.
I sit on a stump before the old wooden stove taking in the heat and allowing it to cure me
