Beneath the Window
I begged to sit in his lap last night. He was right. I did not expect him to
refuse me. I especially did not expect it since I was rather pleasantly
surprised that without thinking and without reluctance I begged him.
He did not respond right away. Then he made me move farther away from him. Then
farther still. I have not been in a room with him and been unable to at least
put my fingers between his sandal strapping and touch his foot.
He asked many questions. He pointed out many things ... about joy the en girl
who does not beg ... joy the stubborn girl who does not know desperation.
Then he chained me far across the room from him. He slept in his bed. I slept
beneath the window. Not even on the mat at the foot of his furs. I could not
sleep. It was cool last night beneath the window. Part of me yearned to be
across the room near him. Part of me hoped he was uncomfortable without the
warmth of his slave.
I do not like this at all.