In the first days of our arrangement, I learned quickly to stop before I did anything and make a mental note to determine if this was one of Matherly’s approved activities for me. While he was normally agreeable to my personal plans, several times I requested permission to go somewhere out of the ordinary and he gave me a quick refusal, no explanation. If I experienced any resistance at all, I bit my tongue, reminding myself that I’d freely entered into this contract of obedience. Normally after a refusal, I found my body heat suddenly sparked—as though the gripping fingers of his directives for me were by themselves aphrodisiacs.
Yet, when he refused my request to go to the library one Tuesday evening, I was so floored by the rejection that without thinking, I blurted out, “What the h
