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Be careful what you wish for. Another of her mother's old sayings drifted through her head. Andrew seemed to have a knack for picking just the things that somehow touched a nerve. Still there was no place she'd rather be.

Thank heavens he had decided to trust her again and more importantly himself. Something had been opened in Ashley, released somehow, and she didn't ever want to go back to the "old Ashley".

It wasn't just that she was more sexual, more sensual and just plain horny all the time! That was strange enough in itself, given that she had decided long ago that all men were insensitive pigs and she herself was sexually frigid except in the privacy of her own bedroom late at night. Even then, when she had masturbated alone it wasn't particularly erotic but really more of a sleep aid.

Even more than the constant sexual tension she felt now was the overlay of submissive feeling and desire. When Andrew walked into the room, she had to control herself not to immediately kneel down and touch her head to the floor. She knew this made him uncomfortable. He was still grappling with his own issues and also with his fears about her past.

Happily, he wasn't so constrained by his fears to keep from domming her several times a week. Tonight however, she was afraid he had bitten off more than she could chew! She'd enjoyed the couple of times he'd tied her up, tying her hands over her head and securing them to the bed posts. It was thrilling to be fucked while held down like that and she'd come hard and long, screaming her pleasure.

Tonight was different. Though she was slowly coming to accept her body as beautiful, even down there, at this precise moment she longed to close her legs.

For Andrew had remembered her remarks about the scene in Story of O, when O was tied on a dais and forced to remain so for hours after the other slave girls had whipped her inner thighs. For O the humiliation had been in the exposure of her sex. She was obviously a masochist, as Ashley realized herself to be, but she shared the same apparent aversion to others looking at her down there.

Intellectually she understood Andrew was "pushing her envelope" as he called it—taking her just a little farther than she thought she could go.

If she were honest, even though she felt nervous right now, she was also deeply aroused. Andrew had built his own little dais for her, using a desk and pulleys he'd installed in the ceiling. Chains hung from the pulleys with cuffs to hold her prisoner.

She was secured by her ankles, her body lying exposed on the desk, legs spread wide to reveal her shaved pussy. Andrew had thoughtfully padded the desk with soft quilts before ordering his slave girl to lie down. He had tied rope around her chest just above and below her breasts, knotting it under the desk. Her wrists, wrapped in soft leather cuffs, were clipped to the silver loop on her collar. Her legs were extended high and she felt vulnerable. She fancied she could even feel a breeze against her labia.

She shivered a little and tried to move, testing the cuffs on her ankles. She couldn't close her legs—she couldn't even shift her body a little to get more comfortable. And where was Andrew?

He had tied her, and then walked out of the room after kissing her lightly on the forehead. As she lay alone, Ashley considered calling out to him. Andrew, I'm scared. Come back! Untie me. She practiced the words in her head but she didn't speak them aloud.

She realized they weren't entirely true. She was scared, yes, but she also wanted this.