A whole chapter from Sam's perspective? Hell Yeah!

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"I want to try again," said Sam softly. "Could you maybe touch me? I don't know if I can do it but I have to try. It's not something I can really avoid."

"Yes, touching your genitals is usually the whole point of sex," Sybil said with a lighthearted smile. "I'll wait here while you take your trousers off."

Sam's heart beat rapidly as he walked to the bathroom. This was a big thing. He had to trust her or else he'd never be able to give her what she should have received the night of their wedding.

Why can't I do this? I've faced more life-threatening events than this. I shouldn't be so scared!

Normally, Samuel Vimes could plow through fear with a well-placed dose of rage. He was good at being angry. It made him feel as if there was something right in the world. Humans are illogical like that.

Sam swallowed hard and took off his trousers. Even in the bathroom where Sybil couldn't see him, he felt exposed. He glanced at the floor beside the bathtub. Hiding wasn't an option anymore, but there was more than one thing he feared showing to Sybil. He didn't have to go out there Full Monty. He could keep his shirt on at least. That was a reassuring thought, but unless it had coattails, it wouldn't hide… Sam unconsciously shuffled one of his feet behind the other.

He searched the room for something, anything, that could help. A towel around his waist wouldn't do any good since he'd have to take it off. He slowly opened the bathroom door a tiny crack.

"Um… Sybil? Do you… have any bathrobes?"

"Yes, give me a minute to get them."

Through the slit in the door, Sam watched her leave the bedroom. He sighed in relief and closed it. As he waited, Sam tried to convince himself that what he was about to do was no big deal, but he had never been very good at persuasive arguments that didn't involve a crossbow. He sure as hell was not going to bring a crossbow into this. Someone once told him that girls thought recurve bows were sexy. At that point in his life he would—

"Sam?"

Sybil's interruption gave him a jolt. He grabbed the door handle in case she tried to come in, but she just knocked politely.

"You said you wanted a robe?"

Sam encountered an unforeseen snag in his stroke of brilliance. He had to open the door to take the robe, but he was too scared to open the door without the robe on. Some people would call this a catch 22. In the privacy of his head, Sam used a much more colorful description.

Sam put his trousers back on, opened the door, and took the robe from Sybil. Only after he closed the door again did he realize that he could have just thrown a towel on and skipped the part where he tried to put both feet down the same leg. He groaned in defeat and put on the robe.

Sybil was waiting for him on the couch. She glanced up when he came in but quickly returned to staring at the floor.

"I'm worried," she said. "I don't really know what she did to you and I'd hate myself if I did the same." Sybil looked at the palms of her hands, slowly opening and closing her fingers. "Even an action that I see as normal could hurt you. I keep imagining her hands right where mine are."

"No, Sybil, you're not like her at all," said Sam, sitting down next to her.

The hint of uncertainty in his voice stabbed through Sybil's heart like a hot knife. She slowly reached out to untie his robe. She felt Sam flinch as she opened the front. He made a sound like a hiccup and thrust both his hands between his legs to stop her from going any further. His heart raced, and not in a good way.

Sybil put her hands in her lap.

"There has to be something," she said.

"There is a limit to the amount of ways someone can grab a man's dick, Sybil. I should know. I've had one all my life."

Sam's terror could be clearly seen behind the thin veneer of sarcasm. His body curled down into the defensive posture he used to cover his neck. Sybil wanted to hug him and tell him not to worry over it, but she held back. Any kind of touch at this moment could be a sign of expectations that Sam obviously could do without. She just wanted to comfort him.

Sybil sighed and looked down at her feet. A half-baked idea took seed in her mind.

"I could use my feet. You said you liked them, right?"

Sam's little lie had come back to bite him as a horrific memory rose to the surface of his mind like the sick lovechild of a ping pong ball and a depth charge.

"See, you can put your dick in the arch of my foot and I can just close over it with my other foot."

The awful memory deflated. This was far from what he was thinking about and there were no shoes involved. Sybil noticed his hesitation. She really thought she had struck gold on this idea but it had turned out to be just pyrite.

"I'm sorry. Now that I think of it, there are a lot of ways that feet can be just as bad as hands…"

"No it's… um." Sam didn't want to disappoint her and this was a much better option than any others. "Er, it's just that… your feet are a little rough." Yeah, that seemed like a plausible explanation. "I'll just go get some lotion."

When Sam returned, Sybil was sitting cross-legged on the bed looking at her hands again.

"You don't have to pretend to be so brave. I'd rather you'd be honest with me when you're scared."

"I'm not… Okay I'm scared but I'm always going to be scared! This isn't something I can do so easily. I just have to push through it. I can't carry this fear around with me my whole life!"

"And what makes you think pushing it away will help? You have to tell me or I'll keep on being scary and not know what to change."

"You're not scary!"

"Oh really?"

Sybil reached out her hand to move Sam's robe away. He instinctively recoiled.

"Okay you're a little but unsettling but certainly not scary. I can do this."

"Sam listen, if you grasp the nettle it still hurts. Imagine how much worse it would be to grasp it with your cock."

Sam's mouth hung open and he pulled his robe securely shut.

"There's an awful lot of Sam Vimes packed into such a small space," she said. "I'm even starting to doubt myself."

"This isn't helping, Sybil! You're just making me more scared!"

She hid her hands in her lap and looked down again. Sam cursed himself for being so crass. He sat down in front of her and touched her knee.

Damn it, I made her afraid of me again!

Well at least she'll be more cautious.

Do I really want her to have to be cautious around me? I'm the one who has to change not her! I just have to do what she wants.

No, this isn't about that. It's about trust and familiarity. She wants me to feel safe.

How the hell do I know what she wants? I don't understand women at all!

I could ask her.

"What is it you want from me?"

"I want you to feel safe around me," she answered.

I knew it.

Why do I have to be so damn logical?

Someone needs to watch me. Might as well be me. I'll be here so I don't have to worry so much.

I'm not making any sense!

Of course I'm not. Everything that makes sense to me is wrong. I just have to do what I wish were right. I want to feel safe around her and she wants that too.

"I wish I could do this slowly," said the Guarding Dark. "I wish I knew what feet are really capable of so I know what it is that I'm actually afraid of."

Can I really say that? I can always ask her, right?

"Um, would that be something I could do?" Sam asked.

"Sure, it's a good idea. I could use a foot massage anyway."

Sam sighed with relief, yet he still felt awful as if asking her was wrong too. He slid his hand off Sybil's knee and raised his shoulders around his neck. The guilt pushed on his chest.

"No, I shouldn't have asked that. I'm sorry," Sam blurted out all at once. "I don't need that. I can go without… I can…"

Sam started shaking. He wasn't thinking about what she had said. He was thinking about what he knew she meant.

I can't ask her to change for me! I'm not supposed to ask for things. I should be grateful for what I have already. I don't deserve any of this! I love her. I have to let her do what she wants!

She said she wanted a foot massage!

Just because the things she wants correspond with the things I want doesn't mean I'm being selfish, right? I could offer to do things that I'm comfortable with. Then I'm not requesting anything. I'll be giving something and she could always reject me.

I'm good at being rejected…

"Sam, are you okay?" Sybil asked.

Her words startled him back into reality, plain dull reality. Sam's head was a pretty scary place to be at times.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine! I've got this."

Sam grabbed the bottle of lotion while Sybil relaxed on the cushions. She turned on her side and put her legs into a figure four position. Sam kneeled at the end of her bent knee. It wasn't a very common set up. Sybil didn't tell him that she had chosen it so that he would be forced to sit closer to her. She hoped he didn't notice that he was now within reaching distance.

Sam had only given one foot massage in his whole life and that was because the man was getting frostbite. Was the technique different when it's not for medical reasons? It's not like he actually knew the procedure back then anyway. He decided it didn't matter and started to rub her foot.

"That tickles! You have to press harder."

Sam blushed at his mistake but kept going. He watched how the skin moved and how the little creases still showed even if he stretched them out. He noticed that he could move around the bones inside and she didn't mind it. It was a little creepy but fun at the same time. He pushed on each toe separately and heard Sybil stifle a giggle. Sam smiled at her reaction. That little sound made the fear in his chest float away. He put his finger between her toes.

"Stop that," she laughed.

Sam was caught in a conundrum. Sybil had just told him to stop, yet she was still smiling. Sybil shook her head at his uncertainty.

"You can't be so gentle between my toes. It tickles, but you have rough hands so it's not that bad."

"But didn't you say the other day that I had to learn to be gentler?"

"Well, yes, but there are always exceptions. This is one of them. Keep going. You're pretty good at this."

"I am?" said Sam incredulously.

"You are." Sybil suddenly remembered when he fingered her. "I mean, unless you don't want to be good at it. If it's something she taught you, then I don't want to force you."

"No, it's not like that. I just thought I would be bad at it."

"Have you found anything scary yet?"

"Um, your toenails are kind of sharp—" Sam caught himself. "I'm not saying that I don't like them! They're really pretty that way."

Sybil smiled and got off the bed. She gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

"I bet they could be much more beautiful though."

Sybil absconded into the bathroom, leaving Sam on the bed thoroughly confused and nervous about what he had just gotten himself into. He looked down and wondered if Sybil would be mad if he put his trousers back on.

Then he heard a sound that made his heart both sore and soar. It was the sound of water filling the bathtub. He scrambled out of bed and stopped in front of the bathroom door.

What would happen if we're both in the tub together? What if she doesn't let me? Good gods, she'd be naked! That would be amazing! What the hell am I thinking? I can't do that! She would be… and I… Damn it!

Sam's thoughts came to a screeching halt. All of that was meaningless. No matter how much he wanted to join her, he couldn't. He slid one of his feet behind the other and retied his robe securely around his waist.

The water abruptly stopped much sooner than expected. Sam listened intently at the door. After a while, he heard a series of small high-pitched clicks.

Oh thank the gods! She's only clipping her toenails.

The relief was coupled with a tinge of disappointment. Even through the fear, he desperately wanted to lie in a warm bath with her. He tried to shake off the illusion, but the painful desire kept hold of him. He touched his shoulder where his scar began.

He had to show her. He had to ask…

No, not yet. I just need to focus on what's happening right now. Feet, think about feet. Feet are safe.

Sybil suddenly opened the door and almost walked right into him. She smiled brightly and took his hand before giving him a deep loving kiss. The sensation of her lips and tongue sliced through his fear. She lay down on the bed and put out her feet so Sam could see.

"Very dainty, if I do say so myself," she said proudly. "I can kind of see why you like them so much." She turned on her side and dangled her ankles of the edge of the bed. "This way you can stay upright and have all the control."

"What?"

"You just place your dong there in the arch of my foot and I'll cover it with my other foot."

"That doesn't seem so bad… just don't move and keep your other foot away and don't watch and… and… Do you have any more paperwork? That might help."

"No," said Sybil trying not to laugh. "I have a book though."

Sam positioned himself at her feet. He glanced up at Sybil to make sure she wasn't looking, before he placed a hand on her foot. He heard Sybil make the smallest of sounds, but when he looked up, she was reading her book as if nothing had happened.

Okay, all I have to do is let her touch me.

No, I'm the one touching her. She's not going to do anything. She's just going to let me touch her with my dick? That's kind of nasty.

I have to do this. She set this all up so that I would have control. I can't back out now.

She did seem happy to show me her feet though. Does she like that attention or is this just something she's doing for me?

Does this mean I have a foot fetish now?

"I do not have a foot fetish!"

"Oh so that's why you're hesitating so much?" said Sybil. "I was starting to worry that it was something worse than that."

Damn it! I said that out loud!

Sybil put down her book and moved over so she could kiss Sam. All other thoughts disappeared from his head to be replaced by the warm softness of her tongue. He melted into her arms and let her lead him onto the bed. When the kiss broke, he slowly opened his eyes and saw her kind face. It made his chest hurt to see her looking at him that way, the beautiful dream that shouldn't be there for him. Her unconditional love choked him. She kissed him again. It was much gentler than he deserved. He so desperately wanted more but each loving touch made him feel like crying.

Sam gave up and let the pain have free reign over his body. He turned himself over to Sybil ready to do whatever she asked of him. He stopped fighting and blocked out his thoughts so the pain could not get to him. She kissed him once more and pulled him closer. When he opened his eyes, she was hovering over him with that same expression.

Sam felt her pass her fingers through his hair. The fear and pain couldn't reach him, but neither could the love and pleasure. He didn't even look at her as she slid her hand down her stomach to his crotch. He stared at the ceiling with unseeing eyes. The past played back in his mind. His head filled with all the horrible things that she would do next. That woman… He could hear his own screams… the guilt, the overpowering guilt… useless monster.

He suddenly felt Sybil blow a puff of air into his eyes. He blinked and returned to reality. Sybil looked at him with panicking eyes.

"Sam, say something. Tell me, um, tell me what street the Mended Drum is on."

Sam only cried in response.

"Um, which side of the palace is the Oblong Office?"

Sam looked at her. His breath shuddered as he tried to focus. Sybil stumbled trying to find another question.

"What's the name of the city's hangman?"

"Trooper…"

Sybil started to calm down.

"How much money has Nobby stolen from the watch?"

"This year or just on average?"

"Can I let go of your crotch now please?"

The urgency in her voice yanked Sam back into reality. He nodded and let Sybil pull him up and off the bed. She led him downstairs and out into the garden. The light seemed much too bright.

"Look at that," she said a little irritated. "The gardener has been slacking. I know the house doesn't normally have tenants this time of year but that's no reason to let everything get all messy."

She looked at him with a mixture of fear and hope. She took his trembling hand and led him to a garden shed. She handed Sam a pair of shears.

"You'll have to help me get it all back to normal," She said trying to smile.

Sam looked down at the shears gratefully. He smiled morosely and let out a sad little laugh. His hands were shaking too much for them to be of any use. The whole situation was stupid and contrived, and for some reason it was funny. He laughed a little more and tossed the tool away. He hugged Sybil tightly. The laughter turned to tears. He leaned on her for support.

Sam didn't notice that Sybil was leaning on him too.

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Did I seriously leave a phone messae here? please dont let anyone mess with it.