The next morning, the sun's rays in my eyes woke me from a sound sleep. Had I actually slept through the night? Without a single nightmare?
Suddenly, my mind went momentarily blank, frozen with the realization that the sun was rather high in the sky, and I was still lying in bed. I had chores to do, things to take care of..what if he found me like this?
I lurched straight up in bed, and moved to get off the bed and fly down the stairs. Instead, I felt a pair of arms tightening around me, and a low voice whispering into my ear.
"Easy, Iz...calm down, sweetheart."
His voice was a balm to my nerves, sliding down my spine like liquid honey. I let out a long breath and closed my eyes. I let him pull me back down to lie against the pillows as He slowly rubbed His fingers down my spine.
"I thought...I forgot where I was, I think, just for a minute."
He let out a soft growl -- not one of the frightening sounds that emerged when He was angry or being pushed to His limits, but the low, tender sound that was more like a wolf expressing passion to its mate.
"You aren't there. You're here, with Me. I love you so much, My sweet girl. I love you, little one."
We laid there for a few more minutes, the room silent except for the ticking of the clock and the low murmuring into my ear. I relaxed then, little by little. I was almost entirely leaning on His gentle words as they repeated His quiet mantra of safety and tenderness and overwhelming love until my breathing slowed and my heart's beating returned to normal.
Etienne sat up then, slowly, guiding me to sit up as well against the pile of soft pillows at my back. I was calm enough now to realize that He had changed my clothing while I slept. I was no longer dressed in my own jeans and black halter top. Instead, I was now wearing a soft dark blue nightshift, made of material so filmy that it was almost transparent. I was not wearing my bra, either, so my nipples stuck out hard in the cool room, but He had left my panties on.
Out of habit, my eyes found their familiar downcast place at my hands, focusing on studying my smooth, short fingernails.
"Iz, I..." He stopped speaking, suddenly. I could feel His eyes on my face, as though trying to see past my skin and into my soul. He was good at that, always had been.
He took a finger and placed it on the line of my jaw, slowly running it down to my chin. Tenderly, He crooked the finger under my chin and lifted my face so that my eyes were level with His. He spoke then, His words still tender but with a new level of firmness behind them.
"Isabeau, this is lesson number one. You will always look at Me. You will always meet My eyes. You have the most beautiful, unusual green eyes that I have ever seen, and I want to always be able to see your heart through them."
I hesitated then, voice a bit unsure.
"I'm sorry. He never let me look into his eyes. If I did, he would slap me until my lip bled."
He twitched then, softly pressing His fingers over my lips.
"He was a bastard, and not worth our breath to speak of him. But this is lesson number two for you, Isabeau. If ever I do something that is something he did, or something he did not do, and it frightens you or makes you panic, I want you to tell Me what he did, as best you can, and I will either work through it with you so that you will get past it in your own time, or I will never do it again. Do you understand Me?"
I nodded softly, barely whispering out a quiet "yes."
"Yes, what, little one?" His fingers reached up and gently curled into my hair, still tussled with "bedhead" and yet unbrushed from my night's rest.
"Yes, Master..." My voice was still soft, hesitating as the once-familiar word word slipped off my tongue.
"Your third lesson, little one." I noted without comment that He had changed from using my first name to one of His many former pet names for me. "You always have the freedom to use My name. In fact, I want you to use it as much as you want. You are my lover as much as you are my submissive, and My name is not forbidden to you. But, as my submissive, my most beloved one, I also want you to call me Master."
This lesson was less of a command, more of a tender lilting request still laden with the authority that His voice never fully lost. But even still, the Dominance I felt from Him was not frightening, only reassuring, blanketing me in a warm wrap of safety and security.
"What are your limits, Isabeau?"
This was new, foreign to me, even for Him. Before He had...I stopped my mind from thinking the foul words of loss and death, and instead changed the thought to "separated"...before He and I had been separated, there had been no limits, save our mutual agreements. I had not had any reservations with Him; His every desire had been mine.
But now, after all that had passed, everything that had gone on since we had been together last, I was now tainted, spoiled.
I was afraid now. And I never had been with Him before.
The thought made tears spring unbidden to my eyes, and it made my mind wander to that day...the day when my world had shuddered to a halt...the day when the dark car bearing the Seal of the United States and the dark-uniformed officers on our doorstep had sent my universe into a tailspin...
///
"Isabeau? Are you alright, My love? Can you answer Me, little one?"
His voice snapped me out of my darkening thoughts, bringing me back to the reality of His presence, His gentle eyes still boring deep into mine.
I took a deep breath, the air seeming to leave the room. I knew almost immediately as the images of those things which made me shake harder than anything else passed into the eye of my mind.
"The cane, I don't think I can...being blindfolded and left alone...no heat or fire...no tight, dark places...no being slapped across the face, or called "stupid" or "ugly" or..."
He took my hands in His then, His massive scarred fingers wrapping around my tiny shaking digits.
"You are intelligent, Isabeau. You are so beautiful; oh, girl, you take My breath away with those eyes, and this beautiful soft hair, and your soft skin. And you are a survivor, My love. You came back to me, my beautiful strong girl. And those things, some of them I would never do to you, anyway. I would never insult you, and I would never strike you in a way to injure or demean you."
"I want..." I stopped, the momentary boldness in me wavering slightly.
"What do you want, Mine?"
"I want to trust You. I want You to help me trust You. Etienne, I love You. More than anything. I want to trust You, Lover."
He nodded then, a gentle smile spreading across His face as His eyes glowed again in that tender amber tone. His fingers brushed my cheek.
"And oh, how I love you, My precious girl. And I want you to trust me, too, sweet one. What does that mean to you, Mine, to trust again?"
I took another deep breath, still shaky.
"I want You to push me. I want You to fix me, and put me back together again." Tears were spilling out of my eyes now, pouring down my cheeks and dripping off the edge of my chin onto His fingers. "I want to submit to You again, the way I used to, without question or hesitation. I want to find pleasure in pain again, to find myself again. To love You freely again."
Etienne leaned in and kissed first one eye, than the other, kissing down my cheeks over every teardrop. Then, He kissed my mouth, soft at first and then slowly deepening as His tongue found its way into my mouth; I could taste the sweet saltiness of my tears on His lips. After what seemed far too short a time, He broke the kiss and looked into my eyes again.
"And you will, My girl. I know you will. It will be slow, and it will take time. But I have all My confidence in you. It will be alright, little one. I promise. Oh, how I love you, My darling girl."
"And oh, how I love you, Etienne, my Master." I smiled then, a tiny timid smile, but still a smile nonetheless.
"Lesson number four, My Isabeau. You will always be accessible to Me. I always want to be able to touch you, to caress you, to have my hands on your body. Not just on your face or your shoulders, but on your breasts and your pussy, as well."
As He spoke, the fingers of His left hand trailed slowly down the curve of my breasts over the material of the nightshift and stopped to rest against my stomach, right above the line of my panties. I shivered under His touch, slightly flinching, but I did not pull away or resist Him. The words coming out of His mouth had reduced me to a trembling pleasure-center; every nerve in my body was on fire as His fingers brushed down over my skin. Even though the shift, the intimacy of His touch was not lost on me.
"I removed your bra for your comfort while you slept, but left your panties on for the same reason. I did not to want to take your exposure; I want you to give it to Me willingly, Mine. Not taken, but given."
His eyes were unmoving from mine as His fingers slid beneath the skirt of my shift, pressing so lightly against the fabric of my panties. My reaction to His touch was instinctive; my legs instantly spread wider, my neck straightening and my lips parting in a silent whimper that never escaped my throat.
I had already been situated with my bad leg straight but my good leg tucked beneath me, and I pushed myself up on the bed into an awkward sort of half-kneel at His side. My mind was a blur, everything I had ever felt for this Man pouring back to me in a rush. He moved gently then to kneel in front of me, His fingers still stroking up and down over the crotch of my panties. The more He stroked, the wetter I became. As the first drops soaked through the fabric, I saw Him smile, heard His growl of pleasure.
I moved to press my hips more against His fingers, eager to feel more of the pleasure He was bringing to my body. But instead, He stopped, and pulled His hand out from under my shift.