Anch wriggled herself around until she was sitting up. In her efforts to free herself she had torn her skirt and stained her blouse with the deep yellow of turmeric. Her head covering and veil lay beside her on the floor where her attackers had tossed it down the chute after her.As she wriggled her arms once more she became aware that she could feel a little give in the ropes. She looked around. On the far side of the cellar, a hook held ropes from the cellar's hoist. Anch felt sure that if she could get to it, the combination of her struggles and the sharp hook could free her. Slowly she started to move herself across the floor of the cellar. Eventually she managed to shuffle herself close to the foot of the wall beneath the hook. Turning around, she levered herself up against the wall and finally managed to snare the loops of the ropes around her wrists onto the hook. Tugging against the hook and flexing her wrists she slowly felt the ropes begin to give.Her efforts were. It pained her eyes, but chastisement now would only humiliate them both. The Dominatrix sighed; it was time to let go. “You are in the bathroom. When I close the door you may take off the blindfold. Bathe and dress at your leisure.” * * * *Having retrieved her dress the Dominatrix waited in the breakfast nook with a carafe of strong tea and a tray of fruit scones. Perhaps she had acted recklessly, casting the girl so deep into the pit so soon, but the girl's impatience coupling with her own had amplified desire and distorted caution in them both. And the girl, oh, the girl! Such resilience, such tenacity, such trust. Not once had she signaled for respite though it had assuredly tempted like the Sirens’ song to poor bound Odysseus. The Dominatrix blinked back the sting of tears.A long cup of tea later, soft deliberate footsteps descended the stairs. The girl, enveloped in the lilac aura of her bath, carefully pulled back a chair, her carriage foreshadowing the soreness to come..
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