Copyright © 2007 Canice Brown-Porter
All rights reserved, Freya's Bower.
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Naked as the day she was born, Morgan kneeled on the floor. Knees apart, back straight, hands resting on top of her thighs, palms facing the ceiling. Completely exposed to his gaze, she kept her chin lowered. The black, Italian leather loafers rested an inch from her bare knees. A perfect crease traveled straight up the front of his wrinkle-free Armani black trousers.
Silence enveloped the room. Even he remained silent. She wondered if he saw her body tremble. Morgan's nerves, fine-tuned and in perfect working order, made her doubt she could hide her reactions. Her stomach clenched in nervous spasms, while prickling sensations traipsed over her entire body. For just a moment, she wondered if she possessed the ability to shield her emotions. This would be the final test of her training, and she had no desire to disappoint him now. Especially now, she thought.
Morgan wanted him to accept her submission. Needed him to, actually. How many times had she practiced what she would say at this moment? For the past two weeks, she'd gotten down in this exact kneeling pose. The same one he always expected whenever she entered a room that he occupied.
A determination from deep inside had surfaced under his tutelage during the course of her training. A determination to please him, no matter what he commanded of her. This, she thought, would be her moment to shine for him. It is the culmination of all that he has taught me.
This would be her moment of truth. Had she surpassed his expectations? The ultimate decision made by him today would alter her existence as she had known it for so many years. No longer the same person inside, she'd grown in mind and spirit. Evan had nurtured and groomed her to be all that she could. Her fascination and cravings for pleasurable pain had come shining through. Those dark fantasies, she'd realized, were not fantasies. They were real. And Evan had been the man to make her fantasies become reality. Morgan found that her deepest desires were as real as the beating of her heart and the breaths that sustained her.
It wasn't a question of love, although she hoped he loved her as she did him. But that wasn't as important to her as him viewing her as the submissive that could fulfill his every need or want in life. The acceptance of her submission meant he found her capable of making him happy. And that was the highest compliment a dominant could pay a submissive.