Vow of Silence by Roxy Harte Read Free Book Online Page A

looking at me that way?” she asks.
    “You are beautiful to gaze upon.”
    “You looked pained.”
    “A star as brilliant as the sun burns as it brightens.”
    She frowns at me.
    “I am darkness, you are light. It hurts to be so near you.”
    She laughs. “I’m glad you don’t make your living as a poet.”
    I clutch my chest dramatically but we are both laughing.
    “Are you saying that you can’t be happy with me unless you
hurt me in your dungeon because you are a sadist?”
    “I did not say that.”
    She approaches the table. “Deny it.”
    I pull silence to me as a defense. Childish, I know, but I
won’t lie to her. Grabbing her wrist, I pull her to me and wrap my arms around
her waist. I press my cheek against her stomach. She has pulled on her silk
slip and the fabric is cool against my face. “Let me show you a glimpse of the
darkness inside you.”
    “George.”
    In just my name there is so much emotion. Fear, frustration,
need, longing…
    I won’t force her.
    “We won’t leave the kitchen,” I promise, looking up into her
face. “This is not a scary room.” I look around the space, hoping she can see
that as well—moss-green walls, pecan cabinets, quartz countertops—and see when
my gaze returns to hers that she is looking at the room appreciatively.
    “I love this room. Do you like to cook, George?”
    “I do. Very much so.”
    “Maybe we could prepare a meal together sometime?” She
strokes my hair.
    “I would like that,” I admit, realizing the truth of my
words.
    She meets my gaze. “What do you mean when you say ‘a
glimpse’?”
    Standing, I say, “Sit.”
    Fortunately she does.
    I kneel before her. “Put your feet onto my shoulders.”
    She tilts her head questioningly.
    “The first rule is to obey without question and see where my
requests lead. I promise I will not give you any pain.”
    She lifts her bare feet onto my shoulders and the short slip
slides up on her thighs. I help the fabric along, pushing it higher so that her
genitals are exposed to me. I run my finger along her slit, not pushing
between, just lightly teasing the smooth, soft flesh of her labia as I explain,
“Many men and women have fantasies that revolve around a gynecological exam. I
think in this position you could imagine yourself in an examination room, your
feet in cold metal stirrups, a doctor looking between your legs.”
    She gasps and her vaginal muscles jerk beneath my touch.
    “In my basement I have all of the medical instruments to
make such a fantasy a reality.”
    “I don’t understand why anyone would want to—”
    “You don’t see a gynecological exam as erotic?” I ask.
    “No, of course not.” Her vaginal muscles twitch again.
    “So if I had a cool, metal speculum and slid it between your
vaginal lips,” I press two fingers from each hand into her to demonstrate, “you
would not find that erotic at all?”
    “No.” Her entire face frowns with confusion.
    “Invasive?”
    “Disturbing, painful,” she says and I stop stretching.
    “So most gynecological exams are uncomfortable for you?”
    “Embarrassing,” she admits, her knees beginning to tremble.
“I am small down there . Yes, it hurts.”
    “Pain and embarrassment can be powerful sexual triggers,” I
explain, pulling her slip down her thighs. I lift her heels off my shoulders
and put her feet back on the floor. “Maybe someday you will allow me to
demonstrate completely.”
    “That’s it?” She looks disappointed.
    “For now.” I want to leave her guessing, curious, and I know
she will be left thinking about this strange encounter for the rest of the day.
I want her to be able to come to me with her needs. I want to be able to tell
her my needs without fear of judgment.
    She didn’t run screaming. That in itself seems a good start.
    “Can I make you some breakfast?”
    “Oh George. Who told you the way to my heart is through my
stomach? I am always starving.”
    I look at her thin, delicate frame, hardly