Nebemakst Braced

Whom could they tell? The secret was theirs, alone and forever. That secret, and others, like the one she kept from him.

She could never admit it to him. She felt a crushing pain when she admitted it to herself. But she had enjoyed it. She wanted his tyranny. She wanted his dominance. After years of despising his arrogant and unwarranted lordship over her, she wanted it.

She'd never really thought about it, but he was always the most powerful, trustworthy man left in her life. He always was, and always would be, until the day he died, and being taken and pleasured by him was a sensation that could never be matched by any other man.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Bennings. Annette. I failed you," he'd said.

"No, Professor. No. Nebemakst was the richest, most powerful and courageous man of his time. He was a mighty warrior and priest, with magical powers. But what did the ring do to him?"

He hesitated, searching her eyes for the point of her question.

"It killed him. Shamefully. And his beloved daughter, with him," he said to her, his voice almost cracking with the unspoken thought that they could have shared the same fate.

"But it didn't kill us," she told him, "because of you. Nebemakst was powerful and courageous, but not as powerful and courageous as you. He couldn't make himself do what had to be done. What you did. For me. Professor."

She said that last word with an adoration and pride that she had never before voiced, and that melted him before her eyes. For the first time in her life he seemed to look at her with some fondness. She squeezed his hand then, feeling the stump of his bandaged finger in her grip. She smiled timidly into his sad eyes, and he smiled weakly back into hers.

She had her secret, the one she couldn't bring herself to share with him, not yet, maybe never. She had enjoyed it. She told herself it was only the ring still on her finger that made her think that, but she didn't really believe it. The nightmare of that day was a memory she would cherish forever, recalling it fondly, in private, in the darkest of nights. And, deep in her heart, she secretly hoped that he had enjoyed her as well, and as much.

She'd never find the courage to admit it to him, or to anyone. She could barely admit it to herself.

Maybe some day he would tell her that he had, and then they wouldn't need the damned rings to do it again.

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