Free Fractured Crystal: Sapphires and Submission by M. J. Lawless

partially hidden by the shadows across his face, his lips opening beneath his beard.
    “Why are you here, Kris?” he asked, ignoring her own question.
    “No, wait a minute, mister!” she responded, struggling a little. He did not, however, release his grip, and she realised just how strong he was.
    “Answer the question. Why are you here? Is it just for a fuck? Is that all this is to you?”
    “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” Kris had stopped struggling. Her body felt limp and defenceless in his hands — and the effect of his body this close was confusing her immensely.
    “I’ll tell you why I think you’re here.” Those eyes were glittering slightly now, and once more she found herself somewhat hypnotised by the irregular pupils, the darker one seeming even larger now, opening to swallow her whole. Daniel’s voice was very quiet. “You’re here to find out what kind of person you really are.”
    With this, he let her go and she stumbled backwards, rubbing her arms. He had not particularly hurt her, but the defensive gesture gave her some modicum of security. He meanwhile, had crossed to the sofa and sat down.
    “You’re free to go any time — but if you do, please don’t return here. Ever. You’re not a slave, not in that sense.” She stared at him, but he was not looking at her. Rather, he had once more picked up her pad and was leafing through the birdman pictures. “In the past, I would probably have drawn up some sort of contract between us, a semi-legalese document that perhaps would have given you a degree of comfort. But it’s been a long time since I did anything like this, and, in any case, I’m tired of that kind of game playing. I want something more immediate, more... real, I guess.
    “Don’t worry.” Now he had returned his gaze to her, and she could tell by the deadly seriousness with which he watched her that his was being entirely honest — either that, or he was such an effective psychopathological liar that she never had a chance of understanding when he would ever tell her the truth. “I’m not a complete pervert. I’ve got no intention of hurting you. But I do have to find out what it is that you want. I absolutely need to push you, and I need you to trust me — absolutely. It’s only then that I’ll know if I can trust you.”
    Kris opened her mouth to speak, but the words would not come forward. Flashback. Tied up. Buttocks blazing. The humiliation. Unbidden, some words came. “Don’t hurt me,” she whispered quietly.
    Daniel’s eyebrows furrowed and he stood up, coming forward to her. He bent down and spoke, extremely quietly, so that even in the silence of the room she had to strain to hear. “Are you sure you don’t want me to hurt you? Are you really certain of that?”
    She said nothing, but the trembling of her body was an ambiguous reply. His mouth was mere millimetres away from her ear, and she could feel his breath upon her neck. He straightened up slightly.
    “While I really can’t be bothered with a contract,” he told her, “you do need something so that you don’t feel utterly defenceless. Think of a word — a word that you don’t use in daily life, but that has some significant meaning to you. It will be your safe word. Whenever you use it, whatever I’m doing I’ll stop immediately — I promise you that. But understand this: simply saying ‘no’ or asking me to stop won’t be enough. It needs to be a word that you have thought up consciously, so that I know it’s your true will behind the request. Do you understand?”
    Kris nodded. She was utterly confused, uncertain whether to be reassured or frightened by the absolute calmness with which Daniel was speaking. And yet, in his complete confidence, there was also something that excited her.
    “What’s your word, then?”
    She thought for a moment. “Alfama,” she said at last. She saw his brow crease a little as he searched his memory for the meaning of the word. “It’s in Lisbon. A