Healing

Her hand was suddenly at my throat, fingers curling over the edge of my collar, holding it tightly, making me instantly aware of the pressure of Her knuckles against my throat.

She pulled me up from where I sat back on my heels until I was kneeling up on my knees, arched. She tilted Her hand until my eyes met hers, my chin up instead of down, making sure I was meeting Her intent gaze.

Unexpectedly, Her hand swung back and she slapped me across the face, not nearly as hard as it felt to me in the moment but hard enough to get the message across.

"Who owns you?", She demanded in a voice that required I think about the answer before giving it.

"You do, Syr", came my whispered and reverent reply.

"Who VALUES you?" She almost growled, Her eyes boring fiercely into mine.

I swallowed, the world around us having ceased to exist. "You do, Syr."

"Do you get to decide how much I value you?" She asked, sternly.

The significance of the question settled down over and around me like a blanket and I paused before I replied, "No, Syr."

"Who gets to decide how much I value you?"

"You do, Syr."

She paused, giving my collar (and my head) a little shake to emphasize the point. "Do not EVER undermine me by presuming that your value to me is any less than I say it is. Is that understood?"

The tears spilled over and trickled down my cheeks as I held Her gaze. "Yes, Syr" came my trembling reply. No sooner was my response out of my mouth than my Owner pulled me tightly against Her, holding me close while I cried against Her bare chest.

Safe...

Contained...

Loved...

Valued.