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Was it because Helen was her sister and this pushed too far into a sibling’s sex life? Or did it have to do with…

Her?

Monique had to brush it off. This was her day, as Etta reminded her during dessert when they toasted to the happy couple and exchanged gifts. Eve gave them first edition texts chronicling one Victorian couple’s foray into the lifestyle. Etta gifted them matching, monogrammed keys that were to go in their wallets.As a reminder that someone else holds the key to their heart and body.Monique was quick to place the key initialed “HW” in her coin purse, followed by an appreciative kiss to Etta’s cheek.

She left shortly after dessert, but not before shaking Helen’s hand and muttering something into her ear. Whatever she said, Helen did not flinch, so it must’ve not beentoothreatening.“Break her heart and I’ll do to you what I did to Jacqueline.”

Evelyn patted her sister’s shoulder and nodded to Monique. “I’ve got a date to get ready for. After that sappy show, I need to get the sugar out of my system.”

“Just wait, dear sister, it’ll be your turn to collar a special someone soon enough.”

“I don’t think so.”

Helen waited until she retreated into the West Wing before replying. “That’s what the young always say.”

Monique wrapped her arm around her Mistress’s. “You’re notthatmuch older than her.”

“We can say the same thing about our age difference. Anyway, shall we retire?”

Monique couldn’t help the smile on her face. “I am ready to submit, Mistress.”

“Oh,” Helen said, directing her to the other staircase. “You will.”

Chapter 27

Hers

Chapter 27

The collar was quick to come off Monique's throat. Helen placed it back in its box and gingerly left it on top of her sub’s purse, currently stored in their room. Helen made it clear that Monique always had a place to call home here in Warner Manor. Although she had no plans to formally move from the Manoir for now, Monique had no problem calling thisherroom.

The logistics of that could be figured out later. For now, she was at her Mistress’s whim on their collaring night.

“Hate to take it off you so soon, my love.” A purr laced her voice. Monique stood in the middle of their room, wondering if she should follow Helen into the adjacent room overlooking the gardens. “We have something better for when it’s you and me.”

She followed.

If Monique thought they would consummate their union as Domme and sub in the bedroom, she was mistaken.

There was a viewing room stocked with the usual: closets, alcohol, and extra storage space for clothing and jewelry that spilled over from the bedroom. Monique had been in here once to enjoy the gardens while she ate breakfast, but since that short stay, the bench by the window had been pulled out to the middle of the space. Sheer curtains gave them privacy from any prying eyes outside, but still allowed in plenty of early summer’s light.

“Sit.”

Her commands were soft, but Monique still obeyed as if they were firm.A command is a command.It was her will to obey.

So she sat on the plush white bench and watched as her Domme carried in the silver and diamond collar that had been her first patron gift.

She’s not my patron. She's my lifelong Mistress. The thought still made Monique weep.

“This is so beautiful on you.” Helen latched the collar around Monique’s throat, careful to keep her hair from getting caught. The leash dangled at her side.I hope she spanks me again with it.Monique had to bite her lip to keep her thoughts to herself. Her ass hadn’t been spanked raw since that night Helen punished her.

“Wearing this takes me back to when I first realized I wanted you.” Monique’s voice was so demure that she worried Helen couldn’t hear her. Yet she caressed Monique’s shoulder, hand pushing beneath the blazer to help her shed it with ease.

“I know. Trust me, I do.” Helen hung the jacket on a coat rack. Monique shivered, her exposed arms and shoulders having yet to pick up any heat coming through the window. “There are still things I want from you.”

Helen’s hands were on Monique’s shoulders. She began massaging her partner, releasing any tension Monique kept within her muscles.

Then hands traveled down her chest, cupping her breasts through the bridal-white corset.