The Master's Child
Charlotte
My Master behind me, he rested his cheek against mine, laid his hands on my shoulders. "Knees," he whispered.
It sounded like a command. Nonetheless, he held my arm, balancing me as I dropped, first to my knees, then all the way, to crouch at his feet, and Richard's too; face downward, my hands outstretched, palms to the floor.
It's not cold or painful. Protecting me from the hard stone flags of the basement, the matting indents slightly at knee and toe and elbow. I crouch at my Master's feet, submissive as he wishes...
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