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Then, of course, once she stopped bleeding, she still went around naked. By this time she was trying to tempt me, and I was glad she had another week left in there. I wanted to get rid of all the variations of rebellion that she had.
One day she got so brazen as to lie on the floor and masturbate, knowing I was watching. I jerked off watching her on the monitor and managed to finish before she did so I could catch her and still be in control of myself. Because she did have an effect, but that doesn’t matter. She will not lead me by my dick like other women have. She’s mine. She’ll learn it and she won’t forget it.
I stared her down until she stopped and then left the room. It was time for the book. I wanted her to understand I was her master, and I couldn’t think of any way to convey this information. If I left her a note, she’d know of my handicap or at least suspect it. So I figured I’d be as fucking creepy about it as possible.
During her imprisonment, while working on the dungeon, I’d started highlighting the word master every time it appeared in an erotic novel from her room. I watched, fascinated as she walked around the book several times before finally picking it up. She thought it was a trick. I could see on the monitors how afraid she was of making the wrong choice, not knowing what I wanted from her.
She really is more than I ever could have hoped for. When I first decided to take her, it was because she was just so goddamned beautiful. And now I know she is completely surprising.
Even studying conditioning methods, I don’t think I could have hoped for a better slave. When I came back into the cell, I waited. I was a bit disappointed at first when she didn’t address me. I turned to leave, and that’s when she said it.
“Master, please.”
Those words, coming out of her mouth. That was her ticket out, lesson over. I’d decided to fuck her ass, and if she submitted to that without a fuss, I’d move her back to the suite.
I was as careful as possible. I didn’t want to rip her. I just knew this was possibly the most vulnerable I could make her, even after everything else, and if she would give this to me she was completely mine.
It was better than I’d thought it would be, and afterward I just held her. I needed her to know that if she obeyed, I would touch her, I’d let her come, I’d hold her. All she had to do was give me her will completely and accept her position. There is no escape and she knows that now. She can die in the cell or she can submit.
I stopped reading.There was more, but I couldn’t read anymore, not from that day.
I couldn’t stand to read his reaction to whipping me, his arousal at my fear and helplessness. I skimmed through the rest of the dog-eared pages looking for one thing, why he was letting me go.
But it wasn’t there. Even the last entry had only talked about our most recent time together. There was no indication he was tired of me, nor was there any hint he was sorry. I looked up then. I half expected him to insist I keep reading, but I didn’t want to see anymore. I’d seen enough.
“Are you sorry you did this to me?”
He shrugged.
“Why are you letting me go? Are you letting me go?”
Yes. You’re free to go. I’m releasing you because I’m finished with you.
Just like that. He was finished with me. He’d taken me and considered me a toy, property, and now like any toy the owner was bored with, I was being thrown in the trash.
I wanted to fall to my knees and beg him not to do it, but the bored expression in his eyes told me it would do no good. He put the keys back in my hand.
The garage door is open, and if you press the button you’ll see which car it is. The headlights will flash. You should be able to find your way easily enough.
“This doesn’t make any sense. Yeah, maybe you’re done with me, but why just let me go with something that can be tied to you? Aren’t you concerned I’ll go to the police?”
Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. After all, bringing up the police could buy me a hole in the ground instead of my freedom.
He shrugged again.I don’t care one way or the other. Go take back your life, Emily.
It took him longer to spell out my name, a word that had become so disconnected from my being. I couldn’t believe I didn’t want to go. I’d thought there would be something in the journal that would explain something, but every explanation was one I’d expected.
“Did I not please you? Did I do something wrong?”
I knew even as I said the words that a normal person would take their freedom and not ask questions, but I’d been with him so long I’d come to depend on him. He’d offered me a kind of security I’d never experienced, even if it was somewhat warped in its nature.
You pleased me. You did nothing wrong. You exceeded my expectations. But now you need to leave.
“Can I take a few things?” Mementos. How fucked up was that? I wanted reminders of my imprisonment.
He nodded.
I didn’t take much. A few Middle Eastern CD’s––the drumbeats would calm me––some candles, a few favorite outfits, and my journal, the pages all written in. Full. It was a strange sort of poetry.
