“It’s so good to hear from you, Aims! Did J.P. finally let you out of the cage?” Samantha’s light-hearted voice beamed in my ear.

Even though J.P. was at work, and I knew that this was an appropriate time to talk to Samantha, I was going to keep my eye on the clock. I laughed off Samantha’s first joke about J.P. letting me out of the cage, and then her second jab about needing to schedule phone calls through J.P. Of course, she didn’t have to, and J.P. had never said that he wanted to know when I was calling someone, but the jokes were already a bit much.

“Okay, very funny. Now if you’re done poking fun of my Master—”

I froze at the slip-up and shut my eyes hoping that Samantha wasn’t paying close attention and hadn’t heard me call J.P. my Master. Her reaction wasn’t what I expected; laughter.

“Oh shit, Aims, that was a good one. I even thought it was good how you stopped in mid-sentence after dropping the ‘Master-bomb.’ You almost had me there. You’d be a terrible slave for him.”

Her words cut through me like a dull knife, making sure to do the damage on the way in and out. I touched the simple chain that J.P. put around my neck at the beginning of the month to signify our relationship. Tears formed behind my eyelids and finally spilled over when I heard her laugh again. Only when I’m sure it was obvious that I was crying did she stop laughing and the jokes.

“Amy? Amy Andrews did you enter into a Master/slave dynamic with J.P.?” she asked with a panicked sounding voice.

I took a deep, steadying breath and told her that we were in fact in a Master/slave relationship. Samantha’s reaction was to yell my name into my ear.

“Amy! Do you even know what the hell you’re doing?”

I was getting tired of being treated as if I had no clue what it meant. I gazed down at the scars on my palms from J.P.’s cane.

“I think I have a clue what I’m doing and I really don’t appreciate the way you’re treating me.”

“Amy, I’m sorry. I just…oh my God, you just completely caught me off guard with that news. I’m assuming he collared you.”

“Yes,” I said sounding congested from crying.

“What does the collar look like?”

I shrugged and ran my fingers along the chain. It was the thinnest chain I had ever seen when he presented it to me. J.P. got it at a hardware store, but he was so excited when he gave it to me. I explained it to Samantha and detected that she felt sorry for me.

“How did he approach you with it?”

“We’ve talked about it a few times over the past couple of months. He had seemed so distracted, and I kept trying to figure out how to help or asked what I could do. He kept saying everything was fine but I could tell it wasn’t. I think it’s stress. He had been playfully calling me his little slave, which led to us talking about it—”

“Oh, whew. That’s good to hear Amy. I’m glad you guys have talked about that kind of relationship. So, do you like it?”

I nodded and tried to make the words come out, but I was failing. I finally was able to summons some words.

“I do. It’s been different and has taken some time getting used to putting my mind in that way of thinking, but I’m learning. Why did you say I’d be a terrible slave?” I asked as I organized my notebook on the desk.

“I’m sorry, Aims. It was a bad joke, and I shouldn’t have said it.”

“Yeah, but you must have some thoughts on that.”

“I shouldn’t have said it.” Samantha paused for a moment before continuing. “Your personality just has never seemed ‘slave-like.’ You have a smart mouth, and I can see that not being good for a slave.”

I stared at the scars on my palm again; yep, smart mouth indeed.

“Are things better now that you’re in this dynamic?” she asked, pulling my attention away from my palms.

“Yes, but like I said, I think he’s under stress. He’s been spending more and more time on the computer at night studying for a recertification he needs.” When Samantha didn’t say anything, I was quick to speak up and confirm that things are fine. “Things will return to normal after he gets his recertification.”

“When is that?”

When was that? That was a good question and one that I didn’t know the answer to.

“It’s coming up soon,” I replied.

“So, forgive my asking, but I’m so curious as to what has changed with your relationship since becoming his slave.”

What was different? Everything. I reached out and slid my finger along the notebook that I used to write ideas in. It hasn’t been opened in months.

“Well, the state of the house is my responsibility; cooking and cleaning type of tasks.”

“I kind of assumed that. And actually, many people are ‘slaves’ in their own households but never give a second thought to it. So, what about the sex? How has that changed?”

“I’m enjoying it even more than I thought I would. It’s on his schedule, meaning that he decides when and how we have it.”

“But you still have your safe word, right?”

“Of course.”

“And he still practices after care with you, especially with the heavy-handed stuff?”

For the most part, J.P. did, but there were also times where he almost seemed cold and resentful during and after. Sometimes he would push me away from him immediately afterward or tell me to go take a shower, and when I’d come back to the room, he’d be asleep or back on the computer studying. But then there were times where he was as passionate and loving as when we first started to visit one another.

“He’s very good with the after care, Sam.” I glanced at the clock; I had been on the phone for over thirty minutes. “Sam, I need to get going—”

“Wait! Your new book, we haven’t even begun talking about it.”

“I know. I need some more time off.”

“Aims, you haven’t released anything or even given hints to your readers about an upcoming release since Dark Spell.”

“Great observation,” I said sarcastically. “I need more time.”

“Are you even working on anything, or are the ideas not coming?”

I was tired of the inquisition. The ideas were there, tucked safely inside my mind. It was just a matter of writing them.

“I have ideas, don’t worry. I’m just occupied with other things right now. Now, I need to get off the phone.”

“Wait—when will I hear from you again?”

“Email me whenever you want, and I’ll try to call next week. Bye, Samantha.”

I quickly hung up with her and leaned back in the chair at my writing desk. My yellow notebook sat staring at me. I pulled it closer and flipped open to a blank page and picked up the pen. Without gripping it too tightly, I began to write. At first, my hand ached as my ideas scrawled across the pages. Everything was coming so easily to me and all of the ideas I’ve developed during house work over the past month came tumbling out. I hadn’t written like this in many months and was having a great time until I glanced at the clock.

“Shit!”

I’ve been writing for more than half the day! Nothing around the house had been done yet. I hurried to begin handling the tasks that were assigned to me for the day and was close to being done when J.P. called.

“Hi, princess, how has your day been?”

“Good, Master. I hope yours has been good too.”

“Just fine, Amy. I’m calling to let you know that I’m going to be late this evening. I found out about a study group that is meeting tonight. They’re supposed to have a special study guide for the re-cert exam, and I’d like to attend. Will you see to it that you are fed and taken care of this evening?”

“Yes, I can do that,” I said as I thought back to my notebook that was waiting for me.

“Wonderful, princess. I will be home by 11:00 p.m. and then we’ll fuck.”

“Will you tie me up tonight?” I eagerly asked.

J.P.’s quiet laugh made me smile and reminded me of one of the things I love about him. That laugh of his did things to me.

“Yes, princess. I think I should be in the mood to tie you up tonight. After you eat dinner, I want you to play with yourself in the bathtub. Finger yourself, pinch those nipples, but do not come. Understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

After we got off the phone, I finished up my chores, ate dinner, wrote for almost two hours and then sat in the tub to carry out my last task, which was the most enjoyable.