by Sienna Parks
I control my surroundings.
I control my life.
I control my submissive.
I am Master Fitzgerald.
It’s mid-afternoon by the time she wakes, and I listen to the sound of her cautious footsteps padding down the hallway and into the living room. She finds me pouring over contracts for work, distracting myself until she was ready to come to me.
Her demeanor is quiet, resigned; she knows what’s coming. She stands at the end of the couch, her head bowed in a show of respect, her hands held behind her back. She doesn’t attempt to speak, but instead, waits patiently until I’m finished working on the papers in front of me, and I make her wait, not to be cruel, but in gratitude to her willingness to submit to me. I know that opening up to me was hard for her, especially after what happened at the club. She knows that she betrayed my trust as my lover, as my friend, and as my submissive. This is her way of showing she’s sorry. She doesn’t try to force me to talk, she doesn’t expect anything of me, and I acknowledge it with my silence. The way we interact as Dominant and submissive is a form of unspoken communication. It’s part of who we both are. This is her way of fighting for that.
When I’m done with my work, I clear the table, carefully and methodically filing the papers in my briefcase. I take my coffee cup to the sink and wash it out before setting to work preparing brunch for us in silence. She doesn’t move a muscle, or lift her head to see what I’m doing. She simply keeps her submissive stance until I’m ready.
When the dining table is set and the food is laid out, I cross the room, closing the distance between us. I drink in her scent as she stands before me, and in our silence, I can hear her breath quicken at my proximity. It’s a welcome response.
“Give me your hand, Nyx.” She doesn’t lift her head, but reaches out to me, her hands small and warm, her touch a sweet relief from the loneliness of the night. “Come with me.” I lead her to the table and pull out the chair for her. “Sit. Eat.” Her gaze remains lowered, careful not to meet mine until I say otherwise.
We eat in companionable silence, and I watch as she savors every last bite. She’s always been slender, but recently, since Budapest, she’s painfully thin, and it pleases me to see her devour her meal. Maybe it’s because a weight has been lifted, now that I know what happened, or maybe she’s eating because I told her to. Either way, I’ll take it. I’ve wanted her to do things to make herself happy in recent weeks and months, but she’s not ready for that, and if I can get her to treat her body with respect, even for my sake, then that will have to be enough until I get through to her.
When she’s finished eating, she crosses her cutlery on the plate before clasping her hands in her lap and waiting. I take a moment to look at her, to really take in every aspect of her features. Her long luscious hair scraped up into a messy bun, her skin, her stunning pouty lips, and her glasses framing beautiful brown eyes. The vibrancy that used to emanate from her is gone. She looks older than her years; tired; defenseless. It hurts to see her like this, and I want to scoop her up into my arms and love her until she can love herself again, but I can’t, because looking at her fragile features, I also see the look in her eyes when I walked into Liam’s playroom. I can see the marks on her wrists from the metal restrains, and the same on her ankles - a reminder of how she gave herself over to another man.
“Look at me.” She lifts her head, slowly, and I can see that she doesn’t want to meet my gaze. I see the reluctance in the clench of her jaw as our eyes finally find each other. “How are you feeling? Did you sleep well?” I’m trying not to let my voice sound cold, but it comes across that way.
“Yes, Master Fitzgerald. Considering how ashamed I feel, I slept relatively well, thank you.” She shows her inner strength, holding my gaze as she confesses her guilt.
“You should feel ashamed of yourself, I’m ashamed of you for your behavior last night.” She continues to stare straight into my eyes as tears begin to fall from hers. “What I’m about to say to you doesn’t change anything that I said to you yesterday. I love you, and I will be here for you, for us. Nothing that you told me has changed the way I feel about you. If anything, I love you more for trusting me with what happened.”
I watch as her tears become a steady stream, dripping down her cheeks and into her lap. She makes no move to wipe them, holding her position with her hands tightly clasped. I want so badly to caress my thumbs across her soft cheeks, and kiss away every one of her tears, but I have to stop myself.
“Tell me that you understand what I’m saying, Nyx. That whatever I say from here on out, whatever punishment I see fit, you understand that I love you, that I will always love you, that you are mine and only mine, not out of obligation, but because I want you to be.” She remains still. “Say the words. I want to hear you say them.”
“I understand, Master Fitzgerald.” Her words are broken, thick with tears, and I don’t know if she believes a word I’ve said, but if I say it enough, I’m hoping that it will sink in.
I stand from the table, leaving the empty plates behind and make my way over to the living room. “Come and assume your position at my feet.”
She knows exactly what to do, and she does it with practiced elegance. She may not dance anymore, but to me, every move of her body is an ethereal dance, a joy to watch. The way her limbs glide across the floor with a flow and sensuality that she can’t even see; it’s endearing. I sit back in the chair and watch as she stops in front of me, her toes mere inches from my own as she removes her top, folds it, and places it on the arm of the chair next to me. I usually reserve this position for the playroom, and ask that she wear only her bra and panties, but today, she isn’t wearing a bra underneath the T-shirt she slept in. I watch her intently as she pulls down her shorts, revealing her lack of panties. There is nothing sexual in her movements, she is simply carrying out my request, folding the shorts and placing them carefully with her T-shirt.
I harden involuntarily at the sight of her. None of this is for my sexual gratification, or hers, but rather as an exercise in complete submission. For me, it will be a test of my willpower. Every inch of her flesh is on display, and I have to force myself to look away. I’m so conflicted by desire and disappointment. Images of her with me, tainted by the memory of her betrayal. She falls to her knees, clasping her hands behind her back and dropping her head. She has assumed her position at my feet. Submissive to her Master. I give her a moment to calm herself; to find her center before I speak.
“Now that you’re ready, it’s time to discuss what happened last night.” I can see her body visibly react to my words. Her muscles tense and her jawline tightens. She’s worried. “I am so angry, Nyx. I can’t even begin to express the gravity of how I felt walking into Liam’s playroom.” I feel my own body tense at the memory, my fists tightening, remembering the moment that they connected with his face. “Look at me when I tell you this.” Her gaze slowly lifts until our eyes meet. “You disrespected me, in the worst possible way. You broke my trust. I have never had a submissive treat me with such contempt, and it will never happen again. If it was anyone but you, this relationship would be over. I need to know why. Why did you go to him? Why didn’t you come to me?”
She sits for a moment, before she gains the courage to speak, and I’m not sure if I’m ready to hear the answer. “Master Fitzgerald, I’m not sure if my explanation will make this any better, or if I really know the reason behind what happened. I’ve been feeling so lost in my own life. I hate that I can’t dance anymore; I’m angry and sad, and depressed. I don’t know how to channel what I’m feeling, and ever since my injury, I’ve had so much time to wallow in my own thoughts, it’s all been coming back to me. The nightmares about what happened when I was younger are worse than ever. I don’t know what to do with that. I thought that if I threw myself into our lifestyle, it would help alleviate it in some way.”
She quietens down, and I know I have to ask the question again. “Why did you go to Liam?”
>
Her voice is barely a whisper as she speaks. “Because he knows what happened, and I knew he would give me what I asked for. I couldn’t come to you. You didn’t want to punish me hard, Master.”
I can’t even look at her. I am seething with rage. “You never gave me the chance to understand, and to give you what you needed. You didn’t trust that maybe, just maybe, I know what you need and that’s why I didn’t punish you to the extent you wanted. I’m the one that decides, me and only me. If you disagree with my decisions, then you speak to me. Under NO circumstances do you EVER go to another Dominant and ask them to touch you. Your body is mine and mine alone. It is for me to touch and taste and punish as I see fit. Seeing you like that… knowing that he restrained you.”
I need a moment to calm down; my anger threatening to overwhelm me.
“I’m so sorry, Master. I told him I wouldn’t do anything sexual with him. Only the punishments.”
“DON’T YOU DARE SPEAK UNTIL I TELL YOU TO! You haven’t earned that right. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Master Fitzgerald.”
“How dare you try and justify your actions. Every aspect of our lifestyle is sacred to me. Letting him touch you, even in punishment, is as bad as letting him fuck you. Confiding in him instead of me, and going behind my back, is as bad as fucking him. YOU RIPPED MY FUCKING HEART OUT, VITTORIA!”
Her hands shoot up to cover her mouth and hold in the sobs that are wrestling to break free.
“Get your hands behind your back, now.” My tone is cold, devoid of any emotion, because if I let myself feel - I’m going to explode.
I stand from the chair, and walk around her, pacing the room as I decide what’s next. Her eyes follow my every move, but I can’t stand it.
“Don’t look at me. I can’t stand the sight of you, and I don’t want your eyes on me. I don’t want to see your shame.” She sobs quietly as I continue to pace, trying to work off some of my pent-up aggression and frustration.
“Answer me this. If you walked into my playroom and found me whipping another submissive, would you be okay with it? Or would it feel like a betrayal? Think long and hard before you answer me, Nyx, because you obviously didn’t think about me yesterday.”
She answers immediately. “I would be devastated, Master. I would feel betrayed.” Her words don’t give me any comfort in my absolute despair.
“Devastated doesn’t even come close to describing how I feel. I’ve loved you every day since the moment we met, I fought against it for as long as I could, and when I finally gave in, when I decided that I had to have you, no matter the cost, I thought that you felt the same. I thought that we were in this together. You are the love of my life, and I can’t equate what happened, with me being the love of yours. If I was, you never would have done that.” The silence in the room is deafening as I struggle to put into words, what I’m thinking and feeling. “I’ve lain awake more nights than I can count, asking myself if I’m worthy of you, if I’m man enough to be the Master that you want; that you need. Even before you… before Budapest. And every night since then, I’ve been questioning where I went wrong. What I could have done to help you, what I could have done to love you more; to show you; to make you understand that a world without you in it, wouldn’t be any kind of world for me. All this time, I knew you were holding back, but I never thought for a moment, that you would hide something of this magnitude, something so fundamental to the way I would have handled you as my submissive. I know you said you didn’t want me to look at you differently, but that just shows your lack of faith in me, in us. If you don’t know by now that I will love you, no matter what, until I take my last breath, then I haven’t done a very good job of loving you, and I have most definitely failed you as your Master, in so many ways.”
I scrub my hands over my face, my eyes tired and blurry from lack of sleep. I can barely see straight, and my limbs suddenly feel like lead as I walk across the room. I drop back down into the seat in front of Vittoria, defeated and exhausted, both emotionally and physically. I let myself sit for a few minutes, garnering whatever strength I can muster, to finish our conversation.
“I won’t walk away from you. I promised you that I wouldn’t, and I stand by that, but it’s going to be a hard road back to having any form of trust in you. It’s going to take a while for me to be able to look at you and not see you shackled by him. We have so much to work through, so much we need to talk about, and if you can’t do that, if you can’t put your faith in me and let me work out a way to help you, and to help us, then you need to walk away. You need to stand up right now, get dressed, and leave. It’s your decision. I love you. I always have, and I always will, but I can’t fight for us on my own. You need to fight with me, and if you can’t do that, if you can’t promise me that you will never try to find solace in another man’s arms again, then we’re done. There’s no hope left. It’s fight or flight, Nyx. Which will it be?”
“Fight. I want to fight for us, Master Fitzgerald. I love you, and I promise I will never let another man touch me. My body, my mind, my heart and soul, belong to you and only you. I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you if you’ll let me.”
“Very well. I guess I’ll have to take you at your word. Now, here are some new rules for you. If and when we return to the playroom, you will continue to present yourself as you did before, in your bra and panties. You are my gift to unwrap, and that is for my pleasure, not yours. If I ask you to assume your position anywhere outside of the playroom, then this is how you will present yourself to me. Naked. Not for my sexual pleasure, although, I will never be able to look at your body without appreciating its beauty; you will be naked so that you remember that there can be nothing that you hide from me. You must be completely open and honest with me. Your nakedness will be an outward symbol of this. You will learn to be comfortable baring yourself to me in every way. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master Fitzgerald.”
“Also, you will not touch yourself unless I expressly tell you to. All of your pleasure is mine. I’ve been lenient up until now, my judgement clouded by my love and desire for you, but I see now, that it wasn’t good for you. You need to learn your place, and until you prove to me that I can trust you; until I feel that you’ve earned your orgasm, I will not touch you, and you will not touch yourself. Understood?”
“Yes, Master Fitzgerald.”
I couldn’t touch her, even if I wanted to. The mere idea of it stirring up so much resentment inside of me. I want so badly to erase his touch from her skin, to stake my claim on every inch of her body, but I am repulsed at the thought of how freely she gave away what was mine and mine alone. I have to choke past the lump in my throat to get through the rest of our conversation.
“Do you have anything else you want to say at this point? Anything else I need to know?”
She reaches out to touch me, with tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I was being selfish, and I’m so, so sorry.”
I push her hands off my legs. “Don’t touch me. Don’t move your hands without permission, and always address me as Master Fitzgerald until you earn the right to call me anything else.” I hate that her touch makes me angry. It’s always been a soothing balm to my inner turmoil, but the moment her skin makes contact with mine, I see her with him. “You will remain naked until I tell you otherwise. You will remain here until I return. Maybe it will give you some time to really think about what I’ve said, and about the decision you made yesterday. I love you, but I can’t be in the same room as you right now, because the disappointment is crushing me.” I stand and leave her, naked, crying, and alone in the silence of the living room.
To an outsider looking in, I’m a total bastard for the way I’ve just treated her; the woman I love. But, what they don’t understand, is that Vittoria needs to be treated like this. She needs to feel punished, because it lets her know that I care. It gives her structure, and rules, and boundaries. I thought that being lenient after rehab
was the right thing to do, but I was wrong. That’s when she needed me to step up and be her Master in every aspect of her life. This is all on me, and I hate myself for it. I hate that I let her down, I hate that I can’t stand to look at her, and I hate that I can’t pull her into my arms and make love to her, and tell her how sorry I am that I didn’t know her when she was young, and couldn’t be there to protect her from him. I hate that I have to be cold with her, but it’s for her own good, and mine.
I’m so full of anger and rage and the deepest disappointment. I need to work through that and find my way back to her, and hope that I can help her find her way back to me in the process.
One Month Later
The first few days after my discussion with Vittoria, she seemed more like herself again. She was the perfect submissive, doing everything I asked of her without question, speaking only when spoken to, and always referring to me as her Master. The problem hasn’t been her willingness to obey me, but rather my own reluctance to let her in.
It’s been over a month since we last made love. I’ve continued to act as her Master, punishing her when necessary, but never excessively. I give her pleasure, because I can’t deny her, but it’s infrequent, and I still can’t bring myself to have sex with her. If I don’t find a way to move past this soon, we may never find our way back to each other. Ever since that night at Andromeda, I haven’t been able to connect with her in any sort of meaningful way. I know she needs that intense bond between Dom and sub, but I don’t know how to recapture it. Every time I look at her, I see her restrained in Liam’s playroom. I see how broken she was, and how badly I failed her. How broken I feel, and I can’t fix it.
Slowly, I can see her closing herself off from me again, becoming more and more introverted; protecting herself; her emotions all but switched off completely.
She’s completely lost without ballet. She won’t even listen to music anymore. She’s withdrawn from everything she’s ever loved, including me. She refuses to leave the house, she won’t let her parents or her brother come to visit. She’s becoming a shadow of the woman I fell in love with, and slipping further from my grasp with every day that passes. She’s not my Vittoria. She’s lost inside the shell of a beautiful woman, whose smile used to light up my soul.