I order Simon to his knees in the narrow vault aisle, fingers seeking the lock beneath his breeches as the succession decree rests forgotten between us. His immediate obedience feeds the dominance I crave, yet the same yielding that lets me cage and claim him with the strap awakens the terror that he will see my need and walk away from the husband I have made him.

The steel presses visibly during public hearings, a secret only my hand can soothe in shadowed corners while my degradation strips every shred of pride from his voice. He submits to it all for the sake of our shared ambitions, but the heart I guard so fiercely lies closer to breaking than the cage I control. The harness waits beside our private documents, ready to remind him where pleasure truly resides.

How much further will I push before the truth of my dependence destroys what I have built?

Gwen Tarrant

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