Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
“Umm, it’s not much, but we don’t spend a lot of time here,” Mallory felt she had to justify the suite she shared with Caren, the service submissive who’d trained her to work in the Dungeon.
“I’m grateful for this space, and not having to live in the basement or share some big room with fifteen other women. ”
She led him into the two-bedroom suite with a shared living room and kitchen combination. At least each of their bedrooms had its own bathroom, which was a major plus when her suitemate took an hour in the bathroom before their work shifts.
“If you’ll wait here, I’ll pack a few things and be right back,” she said when Fletcher looked around, but said nothing.
“I’ll come help,” he said, following her into her bedroom.
While she wanted to argue, only so he wouldn’t see her sparse belongings, or the fact that she’d done nothing to personalize her private space, Mallory said nothing. She had no idea what she would need for the next three days and hoped that Master Fletcher would.
She only hoped he wasn’t so disappointed with her room that he changed his mind about taking her on as his rope bunny submissive. Though she was hesitant, she really was looking forward to seeing if bondage was everything that she’d heard.
Mallory grew tense as they entered her bedroom that was furnished with a bed, dresser, and small desk with wooden chair pushed under it.
“Have a seat, bunny,” Master Fletcher said as he crossed to the closed door that hid the closet.
She cringed as he opened the door to expose the majority of her wardrobe—one other sleeveless dress, three black tunic shirts, her denim jacket, and three service uniforms for the Dungeon.
There were also a pair of white and a pair of black cloth sneaker/clogs on the floor along with the suitcase she’d come to Rawhide Ranch with.
Without a word, the man moved to the dresser and opened all the drawers one at a time. She knew what he’d find there, too. A half dozen pairs of bikini panties, three white bras, four pairs of jeans and three pairs of dark gray leggings in the top drawer. The others were all empty.
Her sketchbook and a cloth pouch full of pens and pencils were piled with a notebook on the desk. The notebook was filled with materials from the classes she’d taken over the last three months. The portfolio she was building was tucked behind the desk to keep anyone from finding it.
At least she’d done laundry that morning so there wasn’t a pile of dirty clothes in the corner as there had been the day before.
Once he’d moved all her clothes from the top drawer to the top of the dresser, he glanced at her. She was thankful she did not see pity in his expression as he asked, “Do you always live so minimalistically? Or have you just not gone shopping for anything new since coming to Rawhide?”
Mallory shrugged and dropped her gaze to her fingers laced together in her lap.
“A little of both, I guess. I wear a uniform when I’m working in the Dungeon and I haven’t felt like shopping in the Ranch store or driving into Porter’s Corner.
Clothes have never been something I stressed over as long as they’re comfortable and cover everything that should be covered. ”
She was surprised when Master Fletcher chuckled as he moved to stand in front of her. “Stand up, bunny.”
As soon as Mallory was on her feet, he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his body. His arms were strong and warm around her, melting a protective wall she had not realized she’d built.
What was that?
Why was he the one to tear it down?
She slowly slid her arms around Fletcher’s middle to hug him back as her eyes filled with tears that were soon rolling down her face. It had been a long time since anyone, but especially a man, had hugged her.
Fletcher held her with one thick arm wrapped around her waist while the other lay across her upper back. When he bent that arm and cupped her head with that hand then began to slowly rub over her scalp, emotions she’d been suppressing for an eternity broke free and she began to cry.
Her arms tightened around his middle and her knees went wobbly as her tears turned into sobs and her entire body began to shake. Fletcher did not speak, just tightened his hold around her, taking her weight easily as she leaned deeper into him.
She thought she could feel a few pieces of her shattered heart move back together. Was a bearhug from a man what she needed to truly heal from her past? Or was there something more at play here?
She could not understand why Fletcher didn’t shove her away so he could run far and fast as she had the biggest meltdown of her life.
But he didn’t. He held her and hugged her, rocking her side to side, never saying a word until her tears slowed then finally stopped, and she was left a snotty, hiccupping tear-covered mess.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she lifted her head from his chest.
“I’m not,” Fletcher said in a soft, gentle rumble. “I’m honored that you felt safe enough to let go of all that repressed emotion.”
“I haven’t been hugged like that in a long time.
It ripped the door off the box I’d been stuffing all my emotions into.
Maybe that’s why I’ve had such a hard time drawing lately.
To me, creating is about expressing emotion on the page.
Anyway, thanks for the hug.” Mallory said before giving a big yawn.
“Excuse me. All of the sudden I’m exhausted. ”
“I’ll give you a few minutes to pack your things and then we’ll head to my suite for a nap and your first shibari lesson. After that, we’ll call room service and relax with a movie.”
Mallory nodded as she yawned again. “Yes, Sir.”
Though Fletcher had never had an interest in being a Daddy Dom, he did feel the need to take care of the clearly drained and exhausted Mallory.
Touching her, hugging her, and more, would quickly become his favorite things to do.
He couldn’t wait to see her lovely curves decorated with his ropes in the days to come.
The more he thought about it, the more he thought training a newbie, training Mallory, might just be the challenge he’d been looking for.
But that would wait until tomorrow.
He watched as she slipped on the white flats in the closet before starting to pack.
The first things to go in the suitcase were a large folder she pulled from behind the desk.
She then packed her clothes and a bag of toiletries from the bathroom followed by some sort of sleepwear she’d tucked under her pillow.
The last thing to go in was the pile of books, folders and a cloth bag from the desk.
Once she finished, he took control of the rolling suitcase then held out his free hand. He smiled in approval when Mallory slipped her hand into his. Instead of walking the length of the hall to the elevator, he led the way to the stairs located just outside her door.
“Shouldn’t I be carrying the suitcase?” she asked as they descended to his floor.
“Why would you think that?”
“Well, I am the submissive, so shouldn’t I be doing the work?”
“Is that what you think? That being submissive means doing the heavy lifting?” Fletcher asked as he worked to keep himself from frowning at such flawed thinking.
He watched out of the corner of his eye as Mallory shrugged, though she did not speak.
“Words, bunny. Use your words. Communication is vital in a BDSM relationship. Otherwise I might hurt you and not know it.”
“I guess, yes, I did think that. Though around here, the men barely let the women do anything,” Mallory said softly.
“Any man who makes his women carry heavy things while his hands are empty is no gentleman. Women are to be cherished, even as they’re being flogged or whipped or tied up. I like to think my mama raised me to be a gentleman and not just a male of the human species.”
When she did not immediately respond, Fletcher glanced at her, and found her looking thoughtful.
Finally she nodded and looked up at him. “That’s an interesting way to look at it. And from evidence gained today, your mother definitely raised a gentleman.”