She sat on the bench her hair tossed in the breeze coming of the sea that glimmered in front of her. What a scene. The background of gentle rolling hills some blessed with greenery some harsh with bare stone as is the Irish way. The clouds swept past in a hurry exploding shots of sunlight onto the sea it's skin being pulled and dragged in colours of grey white and blue a slave to the wind. The ancient form of the castle kissing the shoreline stood proud it's history a lineage of centuries. In the small harbour little boats bobbed gentle in the protection of pock marked hand carved stones. The small village scape rolled gently up from the seashore feasting the eyes with bright hopeful colours of blues yellows oranges reds and greens.
She felt the sea air fresh salty invade her nostrils her skin tingled with excitement at such freshness. Brushing her relentless hair away from her face she felt at ease. Her mouth was adorned with a smile small in size but happy in form. Her eyes danced surveying the scene in front of her. How many times had she sat on this bench with it's flaked paint and curved shape staring out to sea looking at an horizon that promised nothing but the endless sea. How this place made her calm was never under estimated as she sought refuge here on many occasions in many contrasting weathers.
Her heart beat had become slow and deliberate as she became aware of the clothes upon her. How she loved the feeling of the soft cotton of her underwear against her skin , how good she knew her jeans on her hips her legs looked and the way her top gave indulgent shape to her breasts.
She twiddled with the little piece of string. Felt it's knotted bow. How lovely it looked on her pinky finger of her left hand. It was more than a symbol to her. It meant more than string. It was his words his command his presence. He was, though far away,he was there. He had her in his grasp. She was captured. How good it felt knowing he had told her to put this little length of knotted string on her finger and to wear it with pride that she was his. She didn't feel like a prisoner in chains but a slave to him under his protection his command of rule for this is where she belonged and he had shown her the light.
Her inner peace was shattered with a loud robotic beep that erupted from her pocket. Her phone. It was a message. The real world was interfering. How she wanted to not be disturbed not yet just a little longer looking out to sea knowing he was over that grey horizon somewhere unseen yet everywhere in her head. Another loud shattering beep and she was snapped out of her dreams ....yes yes the real world the world she had come here to escape from was calling her back .....Sir would have to be tucked away for now and she grumped at this invasion of her blissfulness...