WARNING: this story features non-consent. Do not continue to read if this is triggering for you.

I wrote Iris into the storyline a few episodes back without really understanding who she was (I thought I did, but I wasn't sure). This episode explains who she is. Don't expect rampant sex (hell, there isn't any except the promise of it); there's a lot of background here. It is much longer than other episodes because... well, because it is.

I'm really curious to see the reactions on this one, so please tell me what you think!

I have a post that lists all the story episodes, so you can start at the beginning (as you should—be good now!).

Here it is: The groundskeeper - overview.

I appreciate feedback and encouragement, so don't hold back. Please feel free to reach out if you feel like it. You have my permission :)

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After I removed the ropes that still tied her to the couch leg, she collapsed entirely. I flipped her body completely on the couch and she hunched up in a ball. I took her pjs and threw those over her, switched off the TV, and patted her ass one more time. Then, I walked out again, flipping off the living room light as I went. Time for some shopping. I felt tired but fulfilled. ‘Hm,’ I thought to myself, while walking out of the apartment and locking up: ‘that’s the second time Mei Ling is a very tasty dessert!’. I bounded off the stairs and started walking toward an Asian supermarket that was just off campus.

The next day, around 5pm, after finishing my usual tasks, I retreated to the kitchen to begin preparing dinner. The dishes I had promised were ones I had cooked many times before, so they didn’t require much thought. I found joy in cooking, almost a ritualistic pleasure. With Leonard Cohen playing in the background—his London concert, one of my all-time favorites—and Dragon perched like a sphinx on the kitchen table, attentively watching the proceedings. She knew better than to approach the food being prepared—at least when I was nearby—but she always enjoyed the company and being close to the action.

While cooking, I reflected on the past few days and shook my head; it felt like too much of a good thing, right? Kasha and I had exchanged messages earlier in the day; she was studying for exams. By complete coincidence (really!), I had run into Mei Ling on a path between two buildings. She shot me a look that could have killed me and then quickly looked down, pretending she hadn’t seen me. Wouldn’t she realize at some point that I would just use her harder the more she acted unpleasantly? I chuckled: just to mess with her, I followed her and made her walk faster and faster until she scurried into a building to get away from me.

The food was coming along nicely. I turned to Dragon: “Want to help set the table?” As soon as I approached her, she jumped onto my shoulder, with minimal use of her claws, thankfully, and nestled there. If I didn’t move too quickly, she truly enjoyed this, and I would gladly endure the occasional claw mark. I set two plates, glasses, and chopsticks on the table in the living room, along with teacups. Then I moved the music to the living room and adjusted the lighting to make it cozier. I still wasn’t sure whether this was “just dinner,” a “date,” or... so I was trying to keep my expectations low.

Around 7pm, I heard the bell. Dragon perked up her ears, meowed softly, and jumped onto the couch. I was certain she would be invisible for the rest of the evening. I went to open the door, and Iris looked up at me, nervously laughing. She was wearing a soft-flowing, wide light-blue dress, a dark-blue scarf wrapped around her neck, concealing what appeared to be a gold hanger disappearing between her breasts, and low-heeled dark-blue ballerina shoes. A small cotton bag hung from her shoulder, the shape of a Tupperware container visible through it. I glanced at the bag and raised my eyebrows: “Hi Iris, are you worried I didn’t prepare enough food for us?” She smiled broadly but seemed a bit shy at the same time: “No, no, no, I promised to bring dessert, didn’t I?”, averting her eyes as if there was something she wasn’t ready to share about that yet.

I took her elbow and led her inside. Initially tightening her arm, she relaxed into my touch, and I guided her to the living room. I pulled her chair back and helped her get comfortable, then poured a little sparkling wine for her, sitting down as well. I put the plates around one corner of the table so we were close and talking would be easy and intimate. Asking Iris about her work, which I knew she was fascinated about, kicked off the conversation, and I mostly admired her features and wit while listening to what she went through with her students. After a while, we decided we were hungry, and I brought the food from the kitchen. Iris insisted on helping and bumped into me at the table while setting down one of the dishes. I ignored it, but I saw a dark blush rise on her cheeks, and she hastily sat down to hide her discomfort.

When the food had mostly disappeared, and she had generously complimented me on what I made, while I insisted it was nothing, she quieted a little and fiddled with her empty wine glass. I took the opportunity to slip into the kitchen and prepare tea for us. Bringing back a tray with my teapot and two glasses, I froze when I stepped back into the room. Dragon had taken my empty chair and was pretending to be a sphinx again, eyes squinting with delight. Iris gently rubbed her chest with one hand and reached behind her ears.

“She never does that, you know? I’ve never seen her get close to anyone, let alone let them pet her. When I found her, she was about six months old and in rough shape. I’ve always suspected she was treated poorly by whoever had her when she was born. Did you cast a spell on her?”

Iris smiled deeply, but a fleeting expression of pain crossed her face: “She’s great. Maybe she sensed some of what I wanted to discuss with you …” She looked up at me but then focused intently on Dragon again. I set down the tray, poured tea for both of us and placed a glass in front of her. Then I picked up Dragon, brushing against Iris’s fingers in the process, and settled the Siamese on my lap, where she contentedly resumed watching Iris.

“I believe you brought dessert?”

“I did, but I would be very grateful if you could first listen to me. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about and I feel like I need to do it now. Could you please do that for me?”

“Iris, you can talk to me about whatever you want. I wasn’t joking when I said I consider you a friend. You don’t have to tell me anything, but I’ll listen as long as you want.”

I set back in my chair, and pulled Dragon closer to me to get comfortable. My little Siamese purred, but while she relaxed into me as well, she kept her eyes firmly on my guest as if she, too, was genuinely interested in what Iris wanted to tell us. Iris sat straighter at the table and clasped her hands around the tea glass. This wouldn’t do. I picked up Dragon.

“Iris, please relax. Let me try something. Could you sit back in your chair a little and cross your legs?”

After a second, she did what I asked, and – a bit fearful about what was going to happen next – I put down Dragon in her lap. As I thought, she briefly looked at me, trampled a bit while making herself comfortable, and finally settled into a furry heap. Iris instinctively reached out and cradled her while she petted him softly with one hand. I sat back down, flabbergasted even more by Dragon’s behavior. But Iris visibly relaxed, and smiled at Dragon, then at me. I remained silent, just looking at her, and eventually she started speaking.

“I want to tell you more about me, and then I have a question. I’ll try to keep it short, but it does require some background… When I was 17 and still studying, I met Frank, and I guess you could say it was love at first sight. The first time I saw him, I immediately felt at ease with him, and we became inseparable. He was 21, just a little older, and working already. I moved in with him within six months, and we were married a year later. He was my everything.”

She paused, and without disturbing Dragon, reached for her tea. As far as I knew, there was nobody at the university who knew anything about Iris (or “Professor Lockwood,” as everyone called her). I certainly hadn’t known she was married. “You haven’t told anybody here what you’re telling me now, have you?” She shook her head no, set down the tea glass, and resumed petting Dragon, who responded by purring softly.

“We lived together, I finished my studies, and I felt like I was in heaven. I literally couldn't have been happier with life.” She paused briefly again, and I noticed the hurt in her eyes as she continued. “Frank was diagnosed with an aggressive brain tumor nine years later, just after he turned 30. He passed away in six months.” Tears streamed down her face, but she maintained her composure and continued speaking. Her hands were still, and I saw Dragon gently lick her fingers and rub his head against her hand. As always, she was skilled at sensing distress and did her best to alleviate it.

“After he passed away and all the practical matters were settled—which took many months—I moved to this university. I wanted to leave my home and the town I lived in because everything reminded me of him. This is my fifth year here as a professor, and you know I love it. I still miss him, and I always will, but at the same time, there’s so much missing in my life, and I feel like it’s time to move on and try to fill some of the emptiness." She paused again and wiped away her tears.

I leaned toward her and took her hand. “I’m so sorry, Iris. I really wish you could have reached out to me earlier. Sharing pain can make such a difference.” She smiled through her tears, rubbed my hand briefly, and then pushed it away. “I need to tell you more, and then I need to ask you a question. What I’m about to share may change your opinion of me. You might not like me anymore at all. Please be honest, and if this disturbs you too much, I will go away and we never have to talk about it again. I just hope you can find it in you to remain my friend. Whether you realize it or not, you have given me a tremendous amount of support already. I couldn’t let you come closer to me, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t notice your quiet strength and help.” I settled back into my chair and sipped my tea. I had no idea of what was coming next, so I just smiled and nodded at Iris, silently urging her to continue.

“Frank was more than my husband; he was my Master.” Still teary-eyed, she proudly raised her head and looked me straight in the eyes, the fire radiating from her gaze. I knew he was the one from the first moment I laid eyes on him. He was my destiny, and I gave him my body, my mind, my everything. Throughout our time together, we had a 24/7 TPE relationship. That means that…” I raised my hand and softly interrupted her, “I know what that means, Iris. Total Power Exchange; you don’t need to explain.” A new emotion flashed across her face, and she nodded, maintaining eye contact: “Frank didn’t; not initially. He… had no experience. It was something I helped him discover and navigate. It brought us even closer. That’s why I was even more broken when he died; I lost my husband, my soulmate, and my Master. At that time, I wasn’t sure I was going to survive.”

She paused very quietly, so I had to strain to hear her: “Thank you for letting me tell you this and for listening. I hope you don’t think badly of me, but I couldn’t keep telling you any longer.” Her eyes begged for comprehension, and she silently waited for my judgment.

“Iris…” I cleared my throat before I could speak. “Once again, you are a friend, and I would never judge you, no matter who you turned out to be or what you did. I would help my friends bury bodies if necessary. I hope you believe me.” She smiled through her tears. “So please continue. You said you had a question. Ask it, and if there’s anything I can do, just let me know.”

“It’s not an easy request, I’m afraid, and I might be completely out of my mind to ask you this,” she hesitated and sat up straighter. Dragon felt the emotions in the room shift and jumped off her lap and onto the floor. With her tail up and the tip curled, she strolled past me. “Traitor!” I whispered to her, and she looked back as if to say – what’s wrong with you? Don’t you see that was necessary? After the silent reproach, she leaped onto the couch and went straight to sleep.

“When I arrived here at university, you helped me move. I don’t know if you still remember that?” I nodded, “Of course, I remember.” She continued, her tone softening again: “When I saw you that day, I felt the same way I did when I met Frank. Even stronger. It was immediate, like a flash. And I quickly pushed it away because I had no room for that kind of feeling. I’ve kept pushing it away for years. But I can’t do that anymore.”

She looked at me again and grabbed the bag she had brought. “I promised I’d bring dessert,” she continued, “and I have.” She took a Tupperware box—just as I suspected—and set it on the table. Opening it, I saw what looked like homemade meringue. “I know these are one of your specialties, but I have a recipe from my grandmother that you may not know, and I hope you like it.” She pushed the box to the center of the table and fished something else out of the bag. The bag returned to the floor, and in her hands was a burgundy-red leather collar with black studs and clasps.

“I promise this is the last part of what I need to explain,” her eyes misted over again as she held the collar in her hands and looked at it. “Before Frank died – about a month before he finally passed away – he gave me a package and told me to open it after the funeral. Inside, I found this collar and a letter. The letter was very personal, and I’m not going to read it to you, but the essence was this: he realized I would be alone when he passed, and that I would want, no, need, another Master. He told me the collar was meant for the moment I was ready for it. I was to present it to the person I believed should be my Master.” She was crying silently now but looked up at me through her tears: “I almost threw it away. I didn’t think there would ever be a time I could give myself to someone else.”

“This is the dessert I brought. We can have the meringue and continue what I already think was a wonderful evening.

Or,” and she raised the collar to me in both hands: “You can have me.”