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The awkward silence she created was not lost on the woman dining with her. Helen continued to stare at the table before finally looking up and taking in Monique’s figure in her chair. The maid came, taking away their empty plates and replacing them with a dessert of key lime pie. Perfect for a warm evening.

Yet Helen continued to gaze at her, those unwavering blues caressing Monique’s body as if they truly touched. If she closed her own and also leaned back in her chair, Monique could pretend that Helen stood right next to her, truly caressing her arm, her cheek, and even her hair as she wrapped each dark strand around her fingers and promised to make Monique feel better.

I’m tragic.What was even more tragic was how pointless it all felt. Helen Warner couldn’t cure Monique’s heartbreak. She was a stupid girl to pretend that it was possible, even in her fantasies.It was those fantasies that made me hang on for so long. When in love, the heart fucked shit up. “She hurt me. In ways you could never imagine.”

It was too easy to unload secrets onto her. Helen was a courteous listener, at least, not once interrupting Monique as she attempted to put into words the horrors she went through.

“Everything started innocently enough. Isn’t that how it always goes? One day I was a girl in a lounge looking for a little trouble. I found it. Her name was Jacqueline, and she bought me a drink and told me I was the most beautiful woman in the world. It was young girls like me back then who fell for that shit.

“Long story short, she became my Mistress. I was happy to serve her. We were deep into the lifestyle, you see. It’s how I wanted it, and she grew accustomed to it. She would come home, I would take off her clothes for her, make sure there was a bath ready, order her favorite foods, and then do whatever she told me to do. Sometimes it was sexual, and sometimes she told me to leave her alone, so I did. I suppose this sounds boring, the way I’m telling it. To those in the lifestyle, it is boring. We were just another kinky domestic pair.

“As the years went by, we went deeper. Maybe it happened naturally. Maybe it was all her machinations. Whatever happened, the next thing I knew she was picking out what I wore and who else I slept with. You see, sometimes she would bring home another and tell me to do things with them. I did them. I wasn’t disgusted. It was fun, really. But they weren’t things I would have asked for or pursued on my own.

“I called her Mistress. I didn’t leave the house unless she accompanied me. When we were home, I stayed in our room until she invited me elsewhere. I couldn’t even go outside for a walk without her permission. To me, that was normal. I trusted her.

“It may have happened one day. It could have worked its way up to it. All I know is that one night she had me chained up like always. And then she slapped me.

“She never laid a hand like that on me before. Not a violent one. It stung so much, and the glee in her voice as she laughed at my reaction made me feel sick to my stomach. After so many years together, though, I forgave her. It was a one-time thing. Then she did it another night. Then another. Then she hit me so hard I had a bruise and no excuse for it.

“One night she nearly broke my arm. She grabbed it so hard and turned me around to throw me on the bed so quickly I felt a pop. I wish that was the worst thing that happened that night. When she was done with me, I felt like I could barely walk. That’s all I’ll say about that.

“The final straw – because I was so weak – came when she literally kidnapped another woman and intended to make her the next victim. I woke up that day. I stole her keys and her gun and got both that woman and me out of there. I never looked back.”

Monique let her words dissipate in the sunset, each one harder to dissolve than the last. By the time she realized her key lime pie remained untouched, Helen Warner grabbed her hand, making her fork clatter on the table.

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” Her grip tightened. Monique stiffened, not out of fear, but out of the sense that this woman was too good for her. “It wasn’t right. That woman doesn’t know how to appreciate what she has.”

Yes, that was the problem.Monique wanted to roll her eyes, but she was frozen in her seat, reliving those awful memories. Closing her eyes was dangerous. If she did that, her brain would play a scene on the back of her eyelids. Maybe the night Jacqueline slapped her and called her a whore because she always agreed to whatever her Domme wanted.Didn’t she understand that I wanted that too?Serving her, making her happy…

“What she didn’t understand was what a submissive is. We’re not toys, Ms. Warner. We’re not vessels of pleasure to be used however a Domme wants. Our joy and pleasure come from bringing our Mistress happiness. Of course, we have our preferences and the lines we draw, but at the end of the day, we’ll try anything once if it brings her joy of any kind. That’s how we become so vulnerable. We bare our souls from the first meeting. If we’re put in the wrong hands… women like her knew that. I fear for anyone she cons next. She’s beautiful and wealthy. There will be someone.” Monique sighed. “So, now you know.”

“Correction. I didn’twantto know any of that.” When Monique turned her head toward her guest, bemusement clouding her countenance, Helen explained, “I don’t get any glee or pleasure in hearing what that callous woman did to you. Yet I needed to know it. I needed to know what you’ve been through, so I understand where you come from.”

“Where I came from is obvious to anyone who Googles my name.” Monique pulled her hand out of Helen’s. “Where I’m going, on the other hand, remains a mystery to most.”

“Even to yourself?”

“Perhaps. I take things one week at a time.”

“Perhapsyou will be an old lady running your Manoir a good forty years from now.”

“And I will be happy to do so.”

She knew what that look meant. The one telling her,“Are you going to hide in your mansion of everyone else having pleasure but you for the rest of your life?”She would if it meant she was never hurt again. Monique could sustain herself on the ambiance of her insular world and never be touched by another again. She might die happy that way.

“I won’t pretend to understand,” Helen said. “Obviously, I have never been in your position before. All I know is that theworld would be a much lonelier place if you never ventured into it again.”

Monique blushed. “The world doesn’t know who I am.”

“I do.”

See, this is what’s dangerous about this woman.Helen had the influence to sway Monique back into the world of powerful relationships. Powerful within, and powerful on the outside. There was the power they exuded toward each other behind closed doors, and then the power they presented when they stood before others as a unified front.If I go out into the world, then I do nothing but wander around it, looking pathetic.Dominant types were the accepted norm in the business world. They came, they saw, and they conquered the piss out of everything.

Submissive types, on the other hand, looked lost. People often approached Monique when she sat in cafés by herself, asking if she was all right, and if she needed help. And that was when she was in a relationship! When they found out she ran her own business, they were floored. So many didn’t respect submissives as smart, intelligent people who had a lot of will to get things done. Just because Monique wanted to live a life of submissive love and pleasure didn’t mean she couldn’t do things on her own.

“You continue to flatter me. The fact of the matter is, Ms. Warner, you don’t know me from the mole on your back you’ve never seen before. Like I keep telling you, I’m a sub, not a naïve girl who believes everything a beautiful woman tells her.”

“So you think I’m beautiful?”