With trembling fingers, she pushed open the heavy wooden door. The room was dark after the moon-kissed lighting of the hall and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. Then she saw him, sitting upon his chair, perched as it were before the fire, his eyes mesmerized by stories in the flames. She closed the door behind her and walked swiftly to his side, falling to her knees and bowing her head. ‘Before me,’ he ordered and she crawled about until her knees were but inches from his feet. ‘Look at me,’ he commanded and she lifted her eyes to meet his. They blazed with unspoken words and tales of heartbreak, triumph and pain. They flashed from the flames of the fire, and yet were cold and unsettling. She could not look away even if she dared, so deeply his eyes held hers, trapped and locked within his own. She knew without hesitation that he was Master and that all she was his. ‘Wine, slave,’ he whispered and she stood to slip across the room and pour him out a glass from the bottle he. For about three years after both friends returned, they were regulars at our house. They both were ultra respectful of my wife and at the same time protective of her. I always knew when they were around even if I was working that she was safe, while neither of them would ever let anything happen to her, nor would they take advantage of her. One night during winter, both Chris and David were at our house for several days. We had been snowed in, so we were all suffering from cabin fever. Our Wii game became our sole source of entertainment. My wife's competitive nature kept both David and Chris in constant battles of bowling, golf, boxing, and tennis. I kept a continuous fire in our wood stove, so the house was warm and cozy. The three of us guys walked around in our boxers and a t-shirt while my wife wore a t-shirt and shorts the entire time. Then, one evening, as my wife challenged the guys to boxing matches, she was full of herself. Her competitive nature, coupled with being stir.
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