Shadows Part 3 by Lady Persephone

She watched him dress in his one and only suit, sensed the hint of unease in his demeanour at the change in their routine. Both had always enjoyed routine, the little things that made her pulse race, heart melt, body blossom with desire. She also delighted in keeping him alert and on his toes. Just when he knew, or thought he did, what was coming next she changed the action or his perception and understanding of a situation.  Today was going to be one where his limits were pushed to the extreme, yet her long missive delivered earlier demanded that the following actions took place.


He followed her once more down the street bewildered by the purpose and barely hidden excitement of his Mistress, momentarily he thought her sanity compromised as she stopped at the lych gate  of the thirteenth century parish church of St Mary. Frost still lingered on the lichen edged ancient gravestones, mimicking the icy fingers of Death itself  winding around the last vestiges of mortal existence . He was stupefied when she entered the hallowed grounds she despised striding purposefully on the gravel path. Only when she reached the great oaken west door did she stop, speak without turning, informed him in a clipped even tone that they would marry, now, this very afternoon and that the ring was in his right hand pocket. He did not need to confirm this, his trust in her was absolute. Her only further instruction was that he made his vows bare footed.

How he admired his Mistress: in that next hour, the priest, Forbes the solicitor, and his two office clerks participating in what they knew was a travesty of most things they held dear and true. Most of all how She orchestrated the whole scenario for her purpose tightening the noose of the law so tight that none could evade her wishes, even after death.

His bare feet ached with the chill spreading up from the ancient vaults beneath him, the pain a vital reminder that he was owned; that in ancient times the father of the bride gave his daughter’s shoe to the new husband as a sign of ownership. He did not even have shoes for this ceremony, he was proud that the few there would recognise the significance of his barefoot state.
Elated by Her power and control he stumbled from the church behind her the recent moments a haze ,his eyes on the glimpse of booted foot under the long skirts.

Watery winter sun dipped and died, he lit the candles, prepared a light meal, brewed a pot of tea, knelt at her feet. She removed the ring, placed it next to the ink well on her writing desk; smiling she said that her fingers swell and there is no way she could wear it. They both broke into laughter, the sound ringing through the room and beyond into the crisp eventide.

Somewhere in  his love drenched head he pondered on what a wedding night consisted of for a well used submissive; his heart answered, to exist for her was all was everything…..tbc