I.
Her heart thumped against her ribs and her body trembled as Master pulled into the driveway. She opened the door and greeted Him, emptying His arms of the bags of groceries He had picked up on His way home. She tried to keep her voice from shaking and the tears in check as she hurried to put things away. He changed out of His work clothes into something comfortable, then went to His chair.
She followed silently, kneeling to His left, praying He didn't notice her guilt. However, it was only moments before He asked her what was wrong, having taken stock in how timid she had been behaving. She cowered slightly and the tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she tried to make herself smaller, invisible. Openly concerned now, He turned her face toward Him and asked again "precious, what is wrong?"
His use of her pet name, precious, tore her in two as she sobbed and tried to tell Him what she had done, ever fearful of His anger, yet, too ashamed to keep it hidden from Him. Reaching inside the bodice of her dress, she withdrew the shreds of paper she had been hiding. It was a letter to Him from another. She had seen who it was from and torn it to shreds before she realized what she was doing. She wanted to burn it--to make it no longer exist, but somehow it would haunt her. She would be lying to not tell Him of what she had done, and that lie would grow and multiply into other lies, all in a vain effort to hide her disobedience. She never wanted to lie to Him--she never wanted to break their trust. But she already had by destroying the letter. Her heart ached and her throat felt crushed by the pain.
At first He was confused by her actions, then He realized what she was holding. His fury was instant. He knew what had driven her to do such a thing--the one thing He could not stand, jealousy. He maintained Himself and took the scraps from her, trying to piece together whom it was from. She managed to whisper the name; her eyes downcast, staring at her hands tightly clenched in her lap. She waited for Him to yell, to lash out, or worse . . . to send her away. She had been incapacitated by the fear that she had made her last mistake with Him. Not able to resume her daily chores, she sat with her head lying in His chair staring off into the Hell she had created for herself until He drove up. Now she waited for Hell to take her.
What was seconds seemed like hours to her as the silence stretched. Suddenly, He pulled her to His lap and held her against His chest. Any punishment He could think of, He realized, couldn't surpass what she had done to punish herself during the day. Not that He wouldn't, but He realized she needed some nurturing and reassurance first. Then she would get the punishment she deserved as a reminder that it wasn’t forgotten. He knew she would take her punishment without a whimper, and though she would be spending the night sleeping on her pad, hands and feet tied to the bedposts, He would spend the following day loving her back to the point where she faltered. She sobbed in relief as she felt His loving arms hold her tightly, finally realizing that they would be alright.
II.
She readied herself as she was told; naked except for the collar used during her punishments. It was three inches thick and made from heavy black leather. Rings were built in all around for a variety of bondage positions. It fit snugly, nearly preventing her from being able to look down. She knelt under the large, eyehooks in the middle of the room, hands resting in her lap, eyes downcast, and waited for Him to rig her punishment.
