Free Finding Acceptance in His Arms by Thomas Briar Page A

we’re
going. No o ne will touch you in a sexual manner or
accost you in any way. And if all goes well, then you and I will go out again
tomorrow night. I’m finding I really enjoy spending time with you.”
    “Okay.”
    A
short cab ride later to an ordinary apartment building and u p three floors in an elevator, Kara let Evan escort her
down a hallway to knock on an apartment door numbered 310. She held onto his
hand, impatient to see whatever he was going to show her.
    After
a short pause the door opened. A young nude woman of Asian and African descent, who wore only a rhinestone slave
collar, greeted them with a deep bow. “Hello Mr. Lars and esteemed other
person. Please do come in. You are both honored guests here.”
    Kara
did a double-take, almost not believing the sight before her e yes.
    She
looked to Evan for emotional support. He didn’t acknowledge the slave woman in
any way, shape, or form as he stepped over the threshold, physically pulling
Kara along behind him. She followed his example by tearing her gaze away from
the slave to hold her head up high as if she were
also oblivious to the injustice of human servitude.
    She
let herself be led past a kitchenette of stainless steel appliances into the
living room. She glanced about in hopes of restoring faith in that she hadn’t
stepped into some alternative dimension. But like the
real-life slave, this room resembled something out of an erotic novel or movie.
    Rich
hardwood floors complemented the crimson-colored walls. In the center of the
room an oriental rug acted as a focal point und erneath
a crystal chandelier. Erotic sculptures sat on the end tables bordering the
antique leather sofa, loveseat, and matching armchair. Explicit erotic
paintings of women in submissive poses lined the walls. A mini-bar rested
against the back wall next to a short hallway that
she presumed must lead to a dungeon playroom. Because every BDSM freak had a
playroom, didn’t they?
    Why
yes, she was absolutely certain they did.
    The
slave hurried around in front of them to graciously indicate the sofa. “Would
you like to have a seat and a drink while Master
finishes his shower, Mr. Lars?”
    “Yes,
I’ll have a seat but please leave off the drink for the time being.” He
released Kara’s hand to continue forward into the room and sit down in the
middle of the sofa.
    With
E van releasing her hand, a subtle disconnection took
place between them. She didn’t like this loss of security and thought it
paramount to reestablish the connection. She made it as far as the sofa when
the slave grabbed her by the wrist and shook her head the
moment she attempted to sit down.
    “Excuse
me?” She looked the slave in the face and then turned her eyes onto the hand
grasping her wrist.
    The
slave whispered, “Even esteemed other persons sit on the floor here. Only the
Masters are allowed to sit on the furniture. It is
the natural order of the hierarchy and you must abide or I will have to ask you
to wait in the hall until Mr. Lars concludes his business with Master.”
    Shocked
by the implications behind the woman’s words, Kara immediately looked to Ev an for him to negate the natural order of the hierarchy for
her. He only stared back from the sofa, obviously waiting to see what she was
going to do.
    “I
will sit on the floor,” she conceded. The turmoil of emotions she was
experiencing threatened to overw helm her. She tried
her best to believe this was only a roleplaying game and there would be no
long-term psychological consequences for her.
    “With
your permission, Mr. Lars?” The slave’s eyes darted toward a fluffy red pillow resting
against the sofa’s arm .
    “By
all means give her a pillow to sit on,” Evan allowed. “She’s a delicate girl.
She’s also very important to me. So treat her with the utmost respect.”
    “I
will, most definitely, Mr. Lars.” The slave bowed low.
    Kara’s
face grew hot from Evan interceding on her behalf,
and surprisingly, the