attacks."
Seth gave a non-committal grunt. "Can you stand?"
"I'm still a bit woozy." Or was it that she was just too comfortable in Seth's embrace?
He encircled her body with his arms and pulled her up with him as he stood. He guided them over to the sink. She shivered as the colder air moved across her skin.
"Didn't I hear the front door?"
"Your neighbor came by because of the screams. I sent him on his way." As he was speaking, he positioned himself behind Abby and slipped the towel from her body. Immediately, she cringed and glanced away from the mirror.
"Look up," he ordered. "What do you see?"
She shrugged. She hated her reflection, hated her looks, hated her scars. "Master, please."
"The mirror, girl, look into it. What do you see?"
She crossed her arms over her chest and sulked into the mirror. Focusing on her face, not looking at her less-than-perfect body, she grumbled her answer. "I see me."
Seth frowned. "Drop your hands."
Sullen, she complied.
"What do you see?" he asked again.
"The same thing you do. I see my fat and my ugly scars."
Seth snorted. "They're hardly visible. You make them ugly with your self-hatred. Look at them, girl, and this time I want you to really look."
She did. Her breasts, carrying bruises and stitches, lines of scars puckering the skin stormed her memory. Perfect little circles where her areolas had been reattached by the surgeon who'd severed them from her body. "I see them. They're still ugly."
"They are not ugly--and no, you may not gainsay me on this topic. It's up to me to decide on the issue of your attractiveness and I'm not very friendly whenever anyone tries to tell me that my judgment is suspect."
Seth sounds so serious. He looks so serious. In fact, he was serious...about everything. His role in her life, his decisions as her life's compass, her body's attractiveness--all were now his to control. She struggled with the changed landscape of her life. "Master?"
"We all have scars, Abby. Every one of us has lived an imperfect life. These breasts"--he caressed them, his thumbs flicking the nipples and making her suck in a sharp breath--"are gorgeous. The woman who carries them is gorgeous--no, you are not permitted to argue my words."
He dropped his hands, revealing her to the lights.
The appreciative gleam in his eyes filled her with peace. "Yes, Master," she said, offering him no argument.
"Repeat after me," he ordered. "These breasts are protected by a hard limit. There will be no breast or nipple play with these breasts."
Abby dutifully repeated the words. They sounded hollow to her ears.
"Again. Mean it this time."
She repeated the words a few more times before Seth was satisfied.
"In the future, should anyone ask use of your body, you would tell them exactly that."
"Yes, Master."
"And should you be pushed to explain yourself, which shouldn't be necessary, you may tell them this: the trauma of my surgery has not fully healed. Say it."
She did, repeating the phrase until Seth nodded his approval. The reflection in the mirror gave Abby chills and in a very good way. Seth loomed over her shoulder, gazing down upon her as he ensured her emotional and physical wellbeing. She, small, soft and under his protection, had never felt more beautiful in her life.
"Master?"
"Aye?"
"What if they won't accept that explanation?"
His expression was remote and chilly. "Should you be faced with such an outright asshole, you'll direct him or her to me."
"Something like, 'Please talk to Seth if you have any other questions'?"
"That'll do." He nodded. "Now, get into something warm and meet me in the living room. I'll make coffee." With a playful tug on a lock of her hair, Seth exited the bathroom.
Compliant, she went to her bedroom and pulled on her pink flannel jammies and her favorite fluffy purple booties, making sure not to glance at the mass of leather and steel on her floor. Fear clenched her stomach at the smell of the harness, and she gave it a good berth as
Seth gave a non-committal grunt. "Can you stand?"
"I'm still a bit woozy." Or was it that she was just too comfortable in Seth's embrace?
He encircled her body with his arms and pulled her up with him as he stood. He guided them over to the sink. She shivered as the colder air moved across her skin.
"Didn't I hear the front door?"
"Your neighbor came by because of the screams. I sent him on his way." As he was speaking, he positioned himself behind Abby and slipped the towel from her body. Immediately, she cringed and glanced away from the mirror.
"Look up," he ordered. "What do you see?"
She shrugged. She hated her reflection, hated her looks, hated her scars. "Master, please."
"The mirror, girl, look into it. What do you see?"
She crossed her arms over her chest and sulked into the mirror. Focusing on her face, not looking at her less-than-perfect body, she grumbled her answer. "I see me."
Seth frowned. "Drop your hands."
Sullen, she complied.
"What do you see?" he asked again.
"The same thing you do. I see my fat and my ugly scars."
Seth snorted. "They're hardly visible. You make them ugly with your self-hatred. Look at them, girl, and this time I want you to really look."
She did. Her breasts, carrying bruises and stitches, lines of scars puckering the skin stormed her memory. Perfect little circles where her areolas had been reattached by the surgeon who'd severed them from her body. "I see them. They're still ugly."
"They are not ugly--and no, you may not gainsay me on this topic. It's up to me to decide on the issue of your attractiveness and I'm not very friendly whenever anyone tries to tell me that my judgment is suspect."
Seth sounds so serious. He looks so serious. In fact, he was serious...about everything. His role in her life, his decisions as her life's compass, her body's attractiveness--all were now his to control. She struggled with the changed landscape of her life. "Master?"
"We all have scars, Abby. Every one of us has lived an imperfect life. These breasts"--he caressed them, his thumbs flicking the nipples and making her suck in a sharp breath--"are gorgeous. The woman who carries them is gorgeous--no, you are not permitted to argue my words."
He dropped his hands, revealing her to the lights.
The appreciative gleam in his eyes filled her with peace. "Yes, Master," she said, offering him no argument.
"Repeat after me," he ordered. "These breasts are protected by a hard limit. There will be no breast or nipple play with these breasts."
Abby dutifully repeated the words. They sounded hollow to her ears.
"Again. Mean it this time."
She repeated the words a few more times before Seth was satisfied.
"In the future, should anyone ask use of your body, you would tell them exactly that."
"Yes, Master."
"And should you be pushed to explain yourself, which shouldn't be necessary, you may tell them this: the trauma of my surgery has not fully healed. Say it."
She did, repeating the phrase until Seth nodded his approval. The reflection in the mirror gave Abby chills and in a very good way. Seth loomed over her shoulder, gazing down upon her as he ensured her emotional and physical wellbeing. She, small, soft and under his protection, had never felt more beautiful in her life.
"Master?"
"Aye?"
"What if they won't accept that explanation?"
His expression was remote and chilly. "Should you be faced with such an outright asshole, you'll direct him or her to me."
"Something like, 'Please talk to Seth if you have any other questions'?"
"That'll do." He nodded. "Now, get into something warm and meet me in the living room. I'll make coffee." With a playful tug on a lock of her hair, Seth exited the bathroom.
Compliant, she went to her bedroom and pulled on her pink flannel jammies and her favorite fluffy purple booties, making sure not to glance at the mass of leather and steel on her floor. Fear clenched her stomach at the smell of the harness, and she gave it a good berth as
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