RTShe closed the door. They had delivered the parcel on time, as they hadcompassionately undertaken to do. She had given the courier a small tipfrom the left pocket of the apron she had been wearing. The courier hadwished her all the best and had walked back to his van. It left the veryhumble townhouse neighborhood.She, once, had been younger and had known so much more about life.She was older now. Her hair was salt and pepper and hung lifelessly. Herforehead was wrinkled: age and worry. Her eyes were tired. Cheeks thathad once burst with colour were now splotched and pallid. There was nosmile on her lined face. The corners of her mouth were turned down.She cradled the parcel as a mother would cradle a child. She rememberedthe very first time he had tried to latch on, searching, struggling,crying. Her nipple had comforted him then. Her breasts were useless now.She slowly moved into the modest living room. She remembered that, inthis room, he had first crawled, first stood, and first. They weren’t women who allowed themselves to be trussed up, manhandled, and brought to gibbering orgasms. While these last few weeks and answering Damian’s challenges were remarkable for her, she laboured under the seemingly irreconcilable contradiction between her ideals and this new, unfathomable reality. The trouble was, she genuinely enjoyed the challenges she’d faced over the last few weeks. While achieving success provided intellectual satisfaction, there was no denying the rewards of Damian’s brand of stimulation. Damian interrupted her thoughts. ‘You mentioned before that I was trying to break you — as in a horse.’ ‘And you said the analogy was wrong.’ ‘Partially. A lot of people think that horse breaking is a process of robbing the horse of its spirit until it is completely compliant and malleable, leaching it of what makes it vital and majestic.’ ‘It isn’t?’ ‘No. In reality, horse breaking involves training the horse so that it and the rider can work as a unit without one.
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