Have you ever had one of those days? You know, you think things are going pretty good, and then, in one split second, it all falls apart? I had one of those days today. I won't burden you with the details until I know more, but suffice it to say tomorrow will be a nerve-wracking day.
On a brighter note, I think I'm about to get the artwork for the cover of
The Celtic Fan sewn up.
And remember, there will be a cover reveal on Saturday and another Harper's Cove novella out on Sunday. Want an excerpt? Here's one from
Becca and Greg at 314 Harper's Cove.
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Work has been brutal. I’m exhausted all the time, and I
only work three days a week. If I worked full-time for them, I’d probably be
dead by now.
As soon as I get in the house, I draw all the blinds.
Then I go to the bedroom and take off everything. Next I put on my thin leather
collar – I feel naked without it – and go into the den.
It’s the room that’s off-limits to anyone who happens to
come to the house. My cage is in there. So are our St. Andrew’s cross, bondage
furniture, and Greg’s tools. No one would understand, so they can just stay
out. He had that St. Andrew’s made especially for me.
Today I’m just so damned tired that I look at the cage
with longing. I know I need to go in the kitchen and go through the
refrigerator, but I just can’t. I could take a short nap though . . .
I crawl into my cage. The mattress Greg had made for it
is really comfy, and there are a couple of blankets in it and my pillow. Once
I’m in the cage, everything starts to slow down and I start to calm. It’s
amazing, really. I check – yeah, my robe is right by the door in case
someone rings the bell. It would probably be that damn Gloria.
Suddenly, I hear the front door. I look at the clock
across the room – I’ve been asleep for two hours! I know this won’t be
pretty. It’s too late – I rush out to see Greg in the doorway, looking
around for me. I’m supposed to be in position beside the door when he comes in,
unless I’m doing something that keeps me from hearing the car alarm, but I’m
sure it’s obvious by looking at me that I’ve been asleep. Skittering across the
room, I drop to my knees, then lean forward until my breasts are on the floor,
my torso straight and flat as I can make it, arms straight out. And I wait.
I hear him moving around but, unless I crane my neck
uncomfortably, I can’t see him. He comes back to me and kneels in front of me.
“And you were where when I came through the door, slave?” He calls me My Love,
but in front of others, he calls me Angel. I love both names. I’m hoping he’ll
call me one of them, but he’s disappointed in me, so I just get slave.
“In my cage, My Master. I’m sorry, My Master. I
was so tired.” A look passes over his face and I see him head for the kitchen.
My world is about to be turned upside-down. When I hear the refrigerator door
open, I feel sick.
“What is this?” He’s frowning and I feel his disapproval
like a stone on my head. “It’s been in here since last week. Slave, I don’t ask
too much of you . . .”
“No, sir, you do not.”
“Do not interrupt me! Today was the day, and this was not
done. You know how I feel about old food.” I cringe and wonder what he’ll do to
me. “On your feet. Follow me.” It takes me a bit to rise – I’m not
eighteen anymore – and follow him to the den. “Climb on up facing outward,”
he instructs me, pointing at the St. Andrew’s. I wonder what’s about to
happen.
He straps me in. This cross was made especially for me so
that the junction of the cross falls right behind my waist. Sometimes he binds
only my wrists, sometimes wrists and ankles. Today he binds my wrists and
ankles, then pulls the straps up from the center and binds my waist to the
cross. But I shudder when he brings out a ball gag and fastens it in place,
then draws the binding up from the main support and around my neck. When it’s
fastened, I’ll be completely immobilized and unable to speak. Once he’s got all
of the bindings fastened, he turns to the chest and rummages around. When he
pulls out his choice, I nearly faint.
