Rae opened the box of stationery and drew out a single sheet. She lay it flat on the desk and began to write.

Sam lifted his head at the sound of the mail chute opening in his front door and the soft thud of the day's mail hitting the floor. He still hadn't returned to his Manhattan office. He knew he needed to get back there, to at least pretend to a return to his old life, but he hadn't yet found the will.

He glanced at his watch. It was nearly five o'clock on Monday evening, time to call it a day, he supposed, though he hadn't accomplished much.

Sam recognized he was a man given to obsession. He would become fixated on a project, working sometimes twenty hours out of twenty-four to bring an idea to fruition. In the past, however, this fixation had always been confined to his work. No woman had ever occupied so much space and time in his head before. Or his heart.

That was the damned thing of it. If he could extract and untangle his heart from the whole messy situation, he was sure he could move on and forget Rae. When he'd first made the bizarre deal with her, he hadn't bargained on his emotions getting in the way of his cock or his whip arm. He'd thought he could keep them neatly locked away while he exacted his revenge.

But somehow Rae had managed to get under his skin in a way no one had managed to before. What was it about her that had changed in the short time they'd been together? Or maybe he was asking the wrong question. What was it about himself that had changed?

He knew of course. He'd known it for some time, maybe even from the beginning. He'd been in love with Rae for a long time. But it had been too hard to admit, too much to deal with. So instead he'd focused on his baser emotions, pushing her too far, denying his true feelings in order to keep the pain of her inevitable rejection at bay.

He'd known sending her away would hurt at first, but he hadn't expected the unrelenting enormity of it.

He thought he knew all the different kinds of heartbreak but this was a new one, a crushing sadness, an appalling knowledge of lost chances. The pain was atomic, quite a surprise really.

It had been five days since he'd hustled her into that cab and sent her away. Five days since he'd tasted her lips, felt the warmth of her cunt enveloping his cock, seen the spark of fire and passion in those cobalt blue eyes.

A small bell sounded on his laptop, signaling that an email had arrived. Sam opened his email without any real expectation-probably just another spam.

It was from Rae! His hand shook as he opened the email and began to read...

I don't really know how to begin, so I guess I'll do my usual and just dive right in, leaping before I look...

He read the email a dozen times or more, pondering it, interpreting it, revising his interpretation, letting hope bloom and then wilt, crafting responses, only to delete them a moment later.

Deciding he'd return to it when his emotions had calmed down some, he pushed himself to his feet and walked toward the front door, where a pile of junk mail lay waiting for him. He grabbed it, glancing unenthusiastically through the catalogs and bills, when his eye was caught by an envelope addressed by hand in a pretty, neat cursive, decidedly feminine.

Carrying the whole pile to the living room, he sat down on the sofa and, discarding the rest beside him, turned the envelope over in his hands, studying it. There was no return address. It could just be a ploy to get him to open it-probably just another appeal for money for this charity or that, with the hopes that something handwritten would get his attention.

Well, if that was the case, it had worked. He slipped his thumb beneath the seal on the back of the envelope and opened it. He drew out the single page inside and unfolded it.

Sir, I want to come back.

The time we spent these past weeks is the first time I have ever felt truly alive. I know that wasn't what you planned, and certainly not what I expected. I have spent my life running so fast so I wouldn't have to stop and take stock of who and what I was. I'm ready to stop running.

If I learned one thing from you, it's to slow down, take a deep breath, let it flow, and really feel what I feel.

I understand you may not want me back. It's a chance I have no choice but to take.

I will be at your doorstep on Monday evening at 6:00. If you are willing to take me back, just open the door. If you are not, do nothing. I will accept your decision and you won't hear from me again.

Your slave girl, Rae

Chapter Fifteen.

Rae knelt on the stoop, the collar in her hands. The flagstones were hard beneath her bare knees. Her hair fell into her face but she didn't move. There were two minutes to go until six. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly and began to count.

One...two...three...breathe...

She resisted the urge to look up when she heard the lock sliding open and the sound of the door pulling open. Sixty-five, sixty-six, sixty-seven...

Her heart skipped a beat and then settled into a rapid anticipatory patter but she managed to hold her position, eyes downcast, arms raised in offering.

She heard him step out onto the stoop. She saw his boots appear in her line of vision. If she bent just a little farther, she could have kissed them. Before she could think further on this, to her vast surprise Sam knelt in front of her.

"Rae."

She looked up into his face, half afraid of what she would see there. There was a question in his eyes, as his lips formed a hesitant smile. When she smiled back, he reached for her, placing his hands on her shoulders. They knelt there like statues for several long moments. Rae had never felt so aware of him-his strength, his vulnerability. There was a tension between them, vibrating in the stillness.

Sam looked down at the collar she still clutched. Letting go of her, he reached for it and she let him take it. She held her breath expectantly, silently urging him, nodding her head ever so slightly in encouragement.

When he nodded back, Rae lifted her hair from the back of her neck, closing her eyes. When she felt the smooth, stiff leather being placed against her throat, something she'd been clenching tight inside eased a little. When the collar was buckled around her throat, she let the tears she'd been holding back roll down her cheeks.

Sam held out his hand and Rae took it, allowing him to help her rise. He led Rae into the house, feeling almost as if they were in some kind of dream. A dream that would melt away if he reached too suddenly for it. He held out his arms and she stepped into them, resting her head against his chest. He lifted her chin, his mouth seeking hers. He kissed her, hesitantly at first, though soon with a rising passion. She kissed him back, her ardor equaling his.

Finally they stepped apart, both breathing hard. "How I missed you, Rae," he said. She looked so beautiful, her hair falling loosely about her shoulders, her skin soft and dewy, her eyes shining, her nipples tenting the silky white fabric of her blouse.

She smiled shyly. "Please say you won't send me away again."

The words cut him to the bone. He took her by the shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. "Listen, Rae. I sent you away, not because of anything you did, but because of what I was doing. What I was becoming. I took something that should be beautiful and I perverted it to get back at you, to exact revenge.

"I'm not going to lie and say it was all about the money either-it wasn't. It was about that one night we spent, and the way you sent me away, rejecting what I knew was in both our hearts. Instead of being a man, instead of trying to understand and to reach you, I just let it, and you, go. When I had the chance to get you back with blackmail, I seized on it. What I did was no better than stealing, Rae. You stole money-I stole your trust and freedom."

Rae nodded and even though it hurt, Sam found himself grateful for the acknowledgment. She wasn't going to try and gloss over what he'd done. But she was here. She'd returned to him when she could just as easily have turned her back forever.

Sam took Rae's hand and led her into the living room. "I have to admit, until I got your email and the beautiful letter, I didn't think you'd ever want to come back here. I promise you this time will be different. The basis of this kind of relationship-of Dom and sub, of Master and slave-is trust. I tried to demand it of you, without giving it to you in return. I'm sorry, Rae. You seem to be ready to trust me now, and I'm grateful for that, though frankly I'm not sure I deserve it. Not yet, anyway." He offered a wan smile.

Rae smiled back, though her eyes were suddenly sad. "I appreciate that, Sam. I really do. And by the same token, I hope I can earn your trust again as well."

Sam reached for her once more. He could feel the soft yield of her breasts against his chest as he pulled her close. He moved his hands over her back and lower, finding and cupping her ass. He pulled at the skirt, lifting it so he could feel her skin. "Spread your legs," he ordered softly, pleased when she immediately obeyed. He found the cleft of her sex, already wet and swollen for him, as it should be. He ran his fingers over her labia, satiny smooth to the touch.

"I want you," he murmured, letting her go. "I've thought of little else since you left."

"Me too," she whispered shyly.

"Are you ready to start where we left off?"

Rae glanced toward the basement door and back at Sam. "Yes, Sir. I'm ready."

"We're not going down into the dungeon. We're going upstairs." Her saw her initial confusion and then the slight nod of understanding and the whisper of a smile.

Taking her hand, he walked with her up the stairs to the bedroom. The room was shimmery in the light of candles he'd lit just before going outside to see if she was really waiting there for him, as the letter had promised. He had pulled back the bedding and attached leather straps to the four posters of the bed, cuffs at the ready to secure his slave girl.

"Are you ready to show me you're really mine?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Take off your clothes and lie down on the bed, arms over your head, legs spread. I want to inspect my property."

He felt the tremor run through her body at his words. She had offered herself to him. She had signed that beautiful handwritten letter with the words: your slave girl. Was it more than just pretty words? He ached to find out.

He watched as she unbuttoned her blouse, recalling that first day when he'd brought her home for her punishment. Then her face had been flushed with embarrassment, her reluctance evident with every move. Now, though he could see she was nervous, she seemed determined.

Pushing the blouse from her shoulders, she revealed her round, perfect breasts and jutting nipples. She unzipped and stepped out of her skirt and lay across his bed, assuming the position he'd dictated.

She lifted her hips slightly, offering herself to him. Sam's cock was rock hard in his jeans. He pulled his T-shirt over his head and stripped himself naked, though he planned to wait to take his own direct pleasure.

The tip of her little pink tongue ran over her top lip as she gazed at his erect cock with raw desire. "Show respect, slave girl," he said, though he was barely able to keep the grin off his face. Yes, he did want a true slave girl, respectful, submissive and yielding to his will, but he couldn't deny being pleased at her obvious appreciation. There was time, plenty of time, he hoped, to train her in proper decorum.

Sitting on the bed beside her, he ran his fingers over her smooth pubic mound, sliding them down between her spread legs. She moaned softly as he probed her labia, lightly teasing and pulling the silky soft flesh. He felt her heat. She was wet and his cock twitched in anticipation.

Not yet, he told himself. Not yet.

He stood and moved to the head of the bed. Taking each wrist, he cuffed her to the posts at the headboard and then did the same thing with her ankles, leaving her spread eagle and vulnerable, his for the taking.

He reached for his single tail whip. He ran the single, deceptively soft strand of leather lightly over her breasts and belly, drawing a shudder from her.

"What are you, Rae?"

"Your slave girl, Sir."

"Who do you belong to?"

"You, Sir."

"Whose cunt is that?"

"Yours, Sir."

"Whose ass?"

"Yours, Sir."

"Whose breasts?"

"Yours, Sir."

"And what can I do with my property?"

"Anything you want, Sir."

Sam nodded, a surge of lust shooting through his cock. "That's right. Anything I want." He drew the whip down her body, pulling it so the tip ran lightly over her labia. "I could whip you until you bleed, isn't that right, slave girl?"

Again she shuddered, and her voice was less steady, but she said, "Yes, Sir."

He drew back the whip with a flick of his wrist, noting her face as she squeezed her eyes shut in sudden anticipation. He lowered the whip without striking her. "Don't anticipate, Rae. Just accept it. All of it. Everything I give you." He stroked her arm and bent down to kiss her cheek.

"You're doing good. Real good," he murmured. "I'm proud of you."

She opened her eyes and smiled.

He sat beside her, cupping her left breast. He reached for her nipple, flicking it lightly until it hardened. He gripped it and twisted, drawing a sudden gasp of pain from her lips.

"Accept it," he repeated. "Everything I give you. Breathe deep. Flow with the pain. Give in to what you long to be. And let me be the one to take you there, not by the hair, but by the hand. Do you want that, Rae? To give yourself freely to me?"

"Yes." She held the s, letting it hiss into a sigh.

"Breathe," he whispered, his fingers still tight on her nipple. He watched with awe and admiration as her face transformed, the tension easing from her features, her eyes slowly opening to focus on his. He twisted again. She let out a rush of air, but kept her eyes on his.

Releasing her tortured nipple, he bent over and put his mouth on it, licking away the pain as he sucked the engorged bud, pebbly hard against his lips. Unable to resist, he kissed and suckled her other nipple as well, enjoying her sweet moans.

He sat up and stared down at the mounds of soft flesh, the nipples like dark pink gumdrops. "One day, when you're properly trained and ready, I'll pierce your nipples. You will take the needle for me, won't you, Rae?" He knew what he was asking. He waited.

She swallowed hard, a flush rising on her cheeks, but she nodded, whispering, "Yes, Sir."

He smiled and stroked her cheek. "Don't worry, sweetheart. That won't happen until you're ready, until you tell me it's what you want."

"Yes, Sir," she repeated.

He ran the whip lightly over her body again, moving in an easy, soothing rhythm until she was fully relaxed and open to him. He caught her off guard with a sudden flick to her right nipple. Rae cried out, jerking in her restraints. Sam reached for her pussy, sliding a finger easily into her wetness.

"Your body doesn't lie, Rae. You need this."

He flicked the second nipple and then focused lower, letting the leather curl around each thigh, leaving small red marks where the tip hit. He struck her bare pubic mound, flicking the tip in quick succession, covering her skin with little blossoms of color, each petal drawn with the tip of his whip.

Rae was writhing in her constraints, her eyes closed, her lips parted. Sam thought about ordering her to open her eyes, to focus directly on the whip, but decided to let her be for now. This didn't have to be training-it was more about reconnecting. He would help center her again, recreate the intricate patterns of pleasure and pain in her nerve endings, remind her body and her soul of what she needed-of what they both needed.

When he struck her labia with the light but direct flick of the whip, Rae gasped and stiffened. "Breathe," he reminded her. "You can do this. You are doing it. For me. For us."

Sam couldn't help but recall the last time he'd said those words, and her scathing response. He waited now, holding his breath. Rae slowly opened her eyes and fixed them on his.

"Yes," she finally said. "For us. I want this. For us."