Chapter Two

I didn’t expect a miracle from our weekend—since all our previous exploits had led to quick fixes and no lasting place for my desires to live. But just making the drive south on that later autumn afternoon made me hope that something different would happen this time. The closer we got to Haliday House, the more I wanted to turn around and go back home; but, at the same time, the closer we got, the more my excitement swelled.

“You said we can do anything we want while we’re there?” Will asked when we were just a few miles away.

“That’s what they said,” I confirmed, being very afraid of what he was thinking.

Will said no more until we pulled up in front of the great grey lady. He was upbeat, but a bit preoccupied, which made me wonder if I had more to fear than my own imagination. I didn’t ask, but I got my answer as we climbed from the car and approached the front wrought-iron gate.

I had my first glimpse of the Lady’s subtle, shadowy contours, painted against a blue December sky, and listened almost absently to Will’s first command.

“Carrie, when you sit down, lift your skirt and sit on your bare ass.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied to him almost without thinking.

Will’s command, my wild anticipation and the fantastical appearance of Haliday House collided in my imagination to make that tentative walk to the broad front porch a frightening journey infused with lust. I took Will’s arm and leaned into him, feeling protected, even guarded. In truth, I had more to fear from my husband than I ever did from Haliday House and its owners.

My fears always make me a little silly. The current Sir and Ma’am of Haliday House were warm and welcoming—only the slightest bit formal as they greeted us. Those distant relatives in my dream were nothing like this friendly couple. Should I tell them that I’d already met their predecessors in my dreams? I’m not sure they’d understand.

Sir Haliday gazed at us wonderingly, shaking Will’s hand, “Welcome, may I ask who is the Dom and who is sub?”

“I’m Will Loudoun, Carrie is my sub,” Will answered both questions with one reply.

“And may we speak with her?” he asked.

“Certainly,” Will replied. We were both a little surprised by the question.

There must be submissives who aren’t allowed to converse! The thought made me shiver.

We were ushered into the formal parlor. While my heart beat madly and I clutched my husband’s arm for support, my eyes were dancing warily from one sight to the next. I felt as though I were stepping into my dream: the genteel furniture, gilded picture frames, and the two starched maids in uniform standing side by side; the polished wood, the roses, and the antique fireplaces. Dreaming wasn’t necessary now, this was real.

Remembering to sit as Will instructed, I was tempted to blush. With my tight purple skirt raised so I could sit on my ass, my thighs showed all the way to my bottom, leaving the top