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“This doesn’t seem very proper,” Ginny says. She immediately cringes, happy that the dark room conceals her blush. You made an appointment with a dominatrix, she chides herself. It’s not supposed to be proper.
A laugh sounds from the chair in the corner—a high, manic, musical sort of laugh that makes Ginny shiver. “What were you expecting, darling?”
Ginny remains in the doorway. “I’m not really sure. I’ve never done this before.” Sure, she’s done a lot—she’s been with women, been with men, trusted the wrong people, been taken advantage of. But she’s never wanted to give herself to anyone in this way before.
“That’s quite alright,” the woman says, and stands, turning on the light. She’s not beautiful, at least not in the traditional sense. She’s wild-eyed and thin, her hair piled up in a tangled mess, but she’s obviously a woman who is confident of her place in the world. She walks like ink spilling across a page towards Ginny. “All you have to do is tell me what you want, kitten, and I can make it happen.”
Ginny swallows hard, trying to keep her head held high. I don’t know what I want, she thinks. All I ever wanted was to make my family proud, to follow in my brothers’ footsteps. And I messed it all up. “I don’t want to be in pain,” she says softly.
“Well,” the woman says, brushing a lock of Ginny’s hair behind her ear. “We can work on that.”