Page 73 of Slave

He’d asked that I talk about my mom, so I focused my thoughts only on her. I took the first tentative step and started talking. “Mom had me when she was only nineteen. She wasn’t ready to settle down and get married, so she decided to move the two of us to Dallas.”

As soon as I said the word Dallas, I felt the slight pressure of the stick again. “Shoulder,” I said, before continuing with my story.

It seemed like I had talked for hours, telling him about my mom going back to school to become a teacher and how she’d gotten me a dog we’d called Rusty because of his red coat. I told him about Cliff. How mom had fallen head over heels for him and married him after only knowing him a month, but that when she was diagnosed with cancer, he’d taken off and served her with divorce papers not long after.

I hadn’t fallen, although it had been close a few times. Only once in the story did I miss calling out when he’d touched me. His response had been a harder tap to my thigh that left a light sting in its wake. I didn’t forget again.

Stephan

After contemplating Brianna’s reaction to the man at the store, I decided that it came down to focus. She had lost all knowledge of her surroundings when she saw him looking at her with primal hunger in his eyes. Her panic had set in because she could not rationalize that she was safe in the store with me rather than in danger.

We needed to work on getting her to stay focused even when her mind was on other things, especially if school was going to happen. This had seemed like the perfect place to start.

As she’d talked about her mother, her dog, and even her stepdad, I had moved around her, changing both my position and the angle at which the thin branch I’d selected made contact with her body. Keeping the touches unpredictable.

She’d done well. Four times she’d lost her footing, but in each instance she kept herself from falling. Only once did Brianna not immediately pause her story to do as I’d instructed. And after the small reprimand she seemed even more determined not to make the same mistake twice. Brianna had a stubborn streak. That thought made me smile.

I learned a lot about her as she talked. Brianna had grown up quickly, especially after her mother got sick and her stepfather abandoned them. I’d known she was strong and smart already, but this just made me admire her more.

And as much as I wanted to end today on a positive note, I knew that the time had come to get some real answers from her. The phone call from Oscar meant that her father was looking for her, and I needed to know how she would feel about that.

But before delving into a subject I suspected would be difficult for her, I told her to stop moving and let the stick drop to the ground as I stepped closer. I stopped just inches in front of her. And even though her eyes were still covered, she knew I was there.

Her breathing picked up, but there was no sign of panic. I leaned in and let my breath brush the hair behind her ear. “Not bad, Brianna. Only one slip.”

It took her a few seconds before I heard a soft thank-you, Master fall from her lips.

Keeping my face just a breath away from her skin, I moved my mouth down the line of her jaw so that my own lips were hovering just above hers. I could tell she was waiting for me to kiss her, but I wanted to see if she’d ask. I was hoping she would ask.

It took one hundred and forty-two seconds before I heard the words from her that I had wanted to hear. “May I kiss you, Master?”

I moved my lips directly in front of hers before I answered. “You may,” I whispered back.

Brianna’s mouth blindly sought mine. Our lips came together, and I followed her lead.

Her mouth glided with mine. It was so innocent that it was difficult not to plunge my fingers into her hair and kiss her the way I wanted.

I controlled myself, though, and waited until she pulled back slightly.

The look on her face was one of happiness that I was beginning to see more and more.

This time when the impulse to touch her came, I didn’t stop it. My hands came up to thread through the hair at the base of her neck. “Are you ready to continue, Brianna?”

“Yes, Master.”

I allowed my fingers to linger at her neck for a moment then took a step back and retrieved my makeshift cane from the ground. As quietly as I could, I moved to stand behind her. And just to make sure she was paying attention, I placed the tip of the stick at her lower back. Obediently she said, “Back.” My only response was a smile, which she couldn’t see.

It was time to get to the information I really needed. “Now, Brianna, I want you to tell me about your father.”

Her intake of breath was so sharp she almost choked. “I know you lived with him after your mother died. Tell me about him.”

This time when she didn’t talk or move, I brought the stick down on her behind with a slight flick of my wrist. She responded immediately. Slowly she took a small step and began to speak in the same monotone voice she used when she was distancing herself. “My dad came to my mom’s funeral, and then he took me back to Two Harbors, Minnesota with him. He’s the . . . leg . . . county sheriff.”

“J . . . John. He . . . My father . . .” I brought the stick to the top of her breast and it seemed to bring her out of the haze she’d started to fall into.

After answering with the appropriate body part, she continued her tale once again in the same lifeless tone. “Living with John was different. He worked and I went to school. I made dinner, did homework while he watched television. We didn’t . . . ankle . . . talk much.”

“Mom was outgoing. John . . . hip . . . was . . . leg . . .reserved. Mom always wanted to get out. Do things. John insisted we stay . . . home.”

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