My Kingdom for a Corner by Melinda Barron Read Free Book Online Page A

triumph. Soft light illuminated the room, and Francesca’s mouth dropped open, the pencil clattering on the floor as it fell.
    “Oh, oh…” His dungeon rivaled any she’d ever seen. She had a few things of her own, a rack and a good collection of whips and crops, but she had nothing like this at her apartment. There was a St. Andrew’s cross, a rack, columns in between where a person could be bound, a swing, whips, chains, crops, clamps. She walked the room, her heart hammering in her chest as she stopped to examine each section of toys. What if he wanted to use all of these on her? She wasn’t into pain. She didn’t want to be in the stocks, or tied between the posts.
    Her heart continued to race as she stepped toward the back wall. A suspension system, where a sub could be held by their arms, or upside down if Mr. Oliver so wanted.
    “No fucking way,” she whispered even as she continued to stare. As she thought about the equipment that filled the room, she decided the three words she would write down were “I’m outta here.”
    But, truth be told, the items fascinated her. What would it feel like to be suspended in air? Would he use a whip on her while she was up there? Or maybe a cat?
    “Not on me, but on another sub. I could watch while he did it. Yes, that’s why it fascinates me. I want to watch, not participate.”
    Liar, liar, pants on fire, a voice sing-songed inside her head. And not just any voice, her voice. She was fascinated, intrigued about giving over control to him.
    “That little bastard,” she said. “He’s given me time to come to terms with things. He knew if he just rushed into it, I’d rebel.”
    He was smart, she’d give him that, but she was as smart. She’d often told her subs that lots of people thought that stupid people who had no self-worth allowed themselves to be whipped, when in fact the opposite was true. It took a lot of self-worth, and a lot of smarts to come to give control of yourself to another person. You had to have trust, and a true sense of yourself.
    She knew who she was, and she realized now that Mr. Oliver was right. This would give her the chance to explore something new, something totally different, which meant she needed to open herself up and give him control.
    In a flash, she walked to the table against the far wall and put down her paper. Then she went to where the pencil had dropped onto the floor, getting down on her knees as best she could and picking it up with her mouth.
    After several attempts to stand she realized it was not going to be possible, as she was hindered by her bindings and footwear. She knee-crawled to the table, using the surface, which she was sure was low enough so even a short person could bend over it, and her shoulders to get back to her feet. Once in place she spent more precious moments trying to figure out how to write with her hands mere inches away from her body. After she’d managed to write down the first word, which took her forever it seemed, she looked at it.
    “Worse than a kindergartener,” she laughed. The block letters were huge, spread out across the page. She should have picked a shorter word. She wrote down the other two, and then looked around the room. All four corners were bare, which meant she had her choice.
    “I don’t want any of them,” she said out loud, as the voice in her head reminded her that she’d decided to follow directions, to let the weekend unfold and see what it would bring.
    She went to the one on the opposite wall, knowing it would allow Mr. Oliver a good view of her as he came in the door. He would see that she’d followed directions, that she was kneeling in a corner.
    Following her mindset was not as easy as she’d thought it would be. Every time she put her shoulder against the wall in preparation to kneel, a voice inside her mind screamed that she was a Domme, that she didn’t kneel for anyone. They knelt at her command. It took three tries to get down, and then it took