When Lucia was finished, she led her to the bed and made her lie down, covering her with the blanket. Lucia positioned herself so Martha’s head was in her lap. She combed her fingers through Martha’s hair. Martha kept her eyes closed and let herself sink into Lucia’s aftercare. “Well done, pet.” Lucia kissed her cheek.
She lost track of what else Lucia said as she drifted. Safe. Cherished. Loved.
“LOOK AT ME.”
Martha met Lucia’s gaze. On the bed lay her collar, and the sheer gown Madame had commissioned for her. Next to it was a red leather crop, Madame’s favorite, the one she kept just for Martha. A second gown of the same cut was set off to the side. The sight of them sent a riot of emotion through her. In Lucia’s hand was a pale-blue envelope.
“Madame asked me to give you this. Come.” She held out the envelope to Martha.
She took the envelope from Lucia, opened it, and pulled the thin sheet of stationery free. She unfolded it.
If you’re reading this I’ve gone beyond the moon, my most cherished love. Know I love you. I return these items to you. They are yours to keep, or to give as you see fit. Take care of one another in my absence. I will wait for you at the top of the stairs. G.
Lucia came and stood behind Martha. Martha laid the sheet of paper on the bed. Lucia touched her shoulder and turned her into her embrace. She pressed her lips to Martha’s temple and wrapped her arms around her. She brought her lips close to her ear. “You’ve pledged yourself to me. I accept your pledge. Wear my collar when we’re together and the gown of Givernay.” She pulled back to look into Martha’s eyes. “I pledge myself to you. I will protect and keep you. I cherish your service and your obedience.”
She loosened her embrace, and Martha stepped back. Lucia lifted the gown and held it out to her. Martha knelt and raised her arms. Lucia fitted the gown over her. The sheer fabric floated down over her skin. Martha lowered her arms and closed her eyes, letting the sensation of the gown settle about her body.
She rose and picked up her collar from the bed. She turned to Lucia and kneeled. Martha held Lucia’s gaze as she lifted her worn leather collar, soft with age, the buckle and single loop green with the patina of time, and held it out with both hands to Lucia.
Lucia took it from her and kept her gaze steady as she buckled the collar around her neck. The tug and pull as she fixed the collar in place filled Martha’s heart. Lucia hooked her finger through the loop and yanked Martha to her feet to pull her in for a fierce kiss. She nipped her lip and drew blood, sealing their pledge with coppery-flavored kisses. Lucia leaned back to look in Martha’s eyes. “Having you as a submissive is like owning a lioness. At any minute you could break free and devour me. You are an exhilarating, terrifying, and intoxicating woman. And mine.”
The light in Lucia’s eyes made Martha smile. “I would love to devour you, Miss.”
Lucia gripped her chin. “I’ll consider your request.” She kissed Martha again, taking her time. Martha panted and wrapped her hands in the gown she wore to keep from touching her Mistress without permission. Hers. Mine. Us. We.
“Permission to ask a question, Miss?” Martha held tight to the seams of her gown.
“Speak.” Lucia cupped the back of her neck. “Before I find another use for your lovely mouth.”
“The other gown, Miss. Whose is it?”
Lucia smiled a half smile. “Myfanwy’s. If she wants it. If you decide to ask her.”
Martha swallowed on a dry throat. “Thank you, Miss.”
Lucia frowned. “For what?”
“Knowing what I need. For loving me. For your ownership.”
Lucia kissed her. “I love you, my lioness.”
THE ROOM WAS warm, the bright afternoon sun spilling through the window. Lucia wore her black dressing gown, one of Martha’s favorites for the perfect way it draped her curves.
“Do you want me to lay out the teal, or the coral, Miss? I favor the teal myself.” Myfanwy held up two dresses for Lucia’s consideration.
“I like the teal. It brings out your eyes.” Martha finished folding her shirt and placed it on the dresser.
“I see I’m outvoted.” Lucia rested her hands on her hips and quirked her mouth. “Myfanwy, I can finish this.” She came over and took the teal wrap dress from her and planted a kiss on her lips so sweet it made Martha stop what she was doing to watch.
Myfanwy frowned. “But I like unpacking your things. And I’m almost finished. Millie said the rest of it will be delivered tomorrow.”
Lucia held out a small box wrapped in tissue paper. “Well, you can stop long enough to unwrap this.”
Martha came and stood next to Lucia. She draped her arm around her waist to watch as Myfanwy opened their gift. She tore the paper and opened the lid. A new collar lay inside, black and red leather woven together. A silver tag with a script L and M intertwined shone against the white tissue.
Myfanwy blushed. “Oh. It’s lovely.” She traced her fingers over the edge of the collar. “I don’t know what to say.”
Martha took her hand. “Say yes, sweet girl. Be ours.” She smiled at her and kissed the back of her hand. “Just ours.”
Lucia took the other hand. “Be with us. Ours.”
Myfanwy’s eyes were bright. “Just yours?”
“No more clients. Just us.” Martha held her gaze. “And no more clients for us either.”
Myfanwy blew out a breath. “Then I accept. The both of you.” Lucia pulled her into a hug, and Martha closed her arms about the three of them. She lifted her head and looked at the small black-and-red urn centered on the mantel, wondering if Madame had seen all of this, marveling at her legacy.
Myfanwy kissed the hollow at the base of Martha’s throat. “Do we have enough time to celebrate this properly, Mistress?”
“We have a lifetime, sweet girl. If it pleases our Miss.” She looked to Lucia, meeting her gaze.
“It pleases me.” Lucia lifted their hands palm up and placed a kiss in the center of each of their palms before she raised her gaze, a feral look in her eyes. “Now, where did you put the trunk with my rope?”
Author Note
In the story, Martha quotes the last verse of the beautiful Welsh ballad Myfanwy. Here is the verse with its English translation. If you’ve never heard it sung there are a number of versions on-line, but I am particularly fond of Beth Anghard’s cover. It is this one I listened to and used on my playlist for this book. Enjoy.
Myfanwy boed yr holl o’th fywyd
Dan heulwen disglair canol dydd.
A boed i rosyn gwridog ienctid
I ddawnsio ganmlwydd ar dy rudd.
Aug hofiar oll o’th add ewidion
A wnest i rywun, ’ngeneth ddel,
A rho dy law, Myfanwy dirion
I ddim ond dweud y gair “Ffarwel.”
Myfanwy, may you spend your lifetime
Beneath the midday sunshine’s glow,
And on your cheeks O may the roses
Dance for a hundred years or so.
Forget now all the words of promise
You made to one who loved you well,
Give me your hand, my sweet Myfanwy,
But one last time, to say “farewell.”
About the Author
Brenda Murphy writes short stories and novels. She is a member of Romance Writers of America. When she is not loitering at her local tea shop and writing, she wrangles one dog and an unrepentant parrot. She writes about life, books, photography, and writing on her blog, writingwhiledistracted.com, and guest blogs at Queeromanceink.com
I hope you enjoyed reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let’s connect:
Website: www.brendalmurphy.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/Writing-While-Distracted
Twitter: @bmurphysideshow
Other books by this author
Dominique and Other Stories
Sum of the Whole
One
Both Ends of the Whip
Also Available from NineStar Press
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