She saw us to a corner table towards the back of the room and we settled in. she set menus on the table and asked what we’d drink; before I could say a word, Master K had ordered us each a Long Island Iced Tea. As the girl walked away, Master K looked at me and quietly commanded me to meet his gaze. “You are a pretty little slave and you will be mine,” He told me. “You will answer my questions this evening honestly and completely, withholding nothing. I assume you understand me perfectly?” At my silent nod, a grin appeared on his face, and he leaned slightly forward. “How long have you belonged to Master L; and in the time he has owned you how often has he been with you?” he asked. “About six months Sir and Master L has never been with me in person” was my reply.“You mean to tell me that you’ve never even seen this man in person? He never came and actually collared you?” Master K asked in astonishment. Before I could answer, the waitress returned with our drinks and took our food. Just give credit where credit is due, thanks!In Her ShoesBy Pretzelgirl 1. ClosetOne of my earliest memories involves me learning to walk. Crawling on the hardwood floors of the cramped duplex my parent's once lived in, I still remember the smell of lemon floor wax. I'm sure I knew how to walk at the time, but for one reason or another had chosen not to. I was always slow when it came to social conventions.I used to crawl into the crowded walk-in closet of my parent's bedroom. Racks of clothes hung above me, dull orange light leaking in from cracks in the sliding doors, and the floor was lined with rows of shoes, lending the tiny room that leathery, shoe-store scent.My mother's clothes and shoes took up nearly all the closet space. What little clothing my father had must've been stored in a small wooden dresser that stood like airon safe near their bed. Inviolable.Hiding in the quiet, tidy, warm sanctuary of the closet, originally just seeking solace from a loud and angry world, I.
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