Callandra rested for a while on her new slave's face. It was premature to think of Nick in those terms, to say the least, but she couldn't help herself. She was an impulsive woman, always had been, which is why she was a homeless dominatrix at this point in her career and not the CEO/Goddess of a sex empire her friends thought she could have been.
You're beautiful, Callandra, you're super smart; you've got it all. That's the sort of thing she'd been hearing. Her whole life, really, even back in Iowa when she'd been trying so hard to be the perfect little vanilla farm girl for daddy, who was too busy fucking the neighbor's wife to notice anyway. The handsome Richard was supposed to have rescued her from all that, taking her out of a really bad second year of college, but that hadn't exactly gone as planned either.
Unfortunately, Callandra wasn't only impulsive. She was emotionally anarchistic, which meant she took delight in finding relationships that were capable of melting down the fabric of her normal life. It might have had something to do with being easily bored, or maybe it was a hold over of her father's carousing and drinking.
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