In the Private Chambers

"Step out," he commanded. He had just parked the car in their basement, then had opened her door and released her seatbelt. She was even less capable of stepping out gracefully now than she was at the party venue, restricted by her wrists and ankled hobbled together and devoid of her eyesight. But here he did not offer her any help. She shifted in her seat as fast as she could so that her feet dangled at the door. She drew as deep as a breath as her corset allowed and flung herself forward. She fell on all four and almost lost balance. Her forehead would have hit the ground, but she felt his hand cupping it, preventing the accident. "Careful!" he whispered. Such a caring expression from the man who had disabled her so and then left her to help herself out of the car would sound incongruous to an outsider. But she was now used to her husband's warped sense of love, relationships and everything concerned with her. He didn't want her face even slightly bruised. Because the world couldn't know.