"It is a merry chase you've led Me, My baby."
I spun around at the voice I knew so well. Much to my disbelief, there He stood; tall, dark, and wicked. My throat closed up and all thought process came to a halt, save for one; what was He doing here?
"Have you nothing to say? Not even a hello?"
I swallowed hard, watching Him come closer. "Hello," I managed. My voice was tight and unfamiliar to me. By the look on His face, it was unfamiliar to Him as well. Obviously not the welcome He was expecting.
"Feeling awkward, My little one?" He nodded curtly, all knowing, all supreme. "It is understandable. We will require a period of adjustment after so long an absence, but it will all come back."
I could do nothing but stand there while He circled me, His voice steady and sure as always. There was small comfort in that.
"Are you well?" He asked this from directly behind me, His large hand stroking through my hair in a caress so familiar, it was all I could do to remain standing upright and not sink back against Him.
I nodded in answer.
There was a brief moment of silence. I could smell Him. Man; strong and determined. His confidence knew no bounds. He had at one time been everything to me. And His love had been everything I had ever wished for. Then the cold came and He was gone. The winter wind chilled me to the bone and with each breath I took a piece of my heart would break and crumble. He wasn't there to keep me warm.
"Do you still paint decadent pictures with words?"
I blushed. I could feel the heat creep up my neck. I nodded again, in answer.
He loved my stories. He would read them and devour me. He was my muse, my inspiration. He took me to heights that fueled my creativity and I wrote into the late hours of the night. They were dark tales of decadence and erotic adventure. His hunger was raw and vicious, His cravings of the taboo and forbidden. I soared in His arms. I took flight to places of pleasure that I had never known existed. And always, always, always, He was there to catch me.
He laughed. "What's the matter, baby? Cat got your tongue?" His hand slipped down my neck softly and continued until He came to a barrier in the center of my back. "What's this?" He asked, knowing full well, as He pulled the strap and let it pop against my skin. I flinched at the unexpected pain of the metal clasp hitting me.
His voice changed. Even with just those two little words, 'what's this' I noticed it, the slight hardening, and the minute chill. "You know better, pet, than to wear undergarments here in this place."
There it was, that possession, that ownership. I would know it a million miles away. It was always there in His voice, or His touch, or His eyes, but many times, it was present in all three.
"You do still belong to Me."
It was not phrased as a question only offered as statement of fact.
I shook my head.
His hand fisted in my hair and pulled my head back. "What was that?"
His voice was getting colder. "No," I said as loud and as strong as I could, which really wasn't very, much to my dismay.
"No? Hmmm. That's interesting, baby, since I never released you."
