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Part 5
Towards the end of my ordeal, David came home to an empty house. It was nearly an unknown situation for him, I hadn’t ever gone or even wished to go anywhere without him before, save for school. He frowned as he searched the house for a note, surely I wouldn’t leave without leaving some indication. He passed by the computer in the library and noticed it was still running, though the screen had gone to sleep. He wiggled he mouse and cursed vividly as he read the website still pulled up onto the screen. The information and the correlations were not lost on David and his sharp mind put together the pieces easily.
“Fuck,” he cursed again as he grabbed his jacket and keys and slammed out of the house. He raced to the club, having been there before and knowing exactly where it was, and thanked whomever was listening that the cops seemed to be busy elsewhere tonight. He barely waited for the car to stop before he was out of it and banging on the door.
The woman who answered looked scandalized at his banging and his scrubs not to mention his arrival hours after the normal closing time.
“Sir, the club is closed save for a private party, come another night.” she offered moving to close the door in his face. He moved his foot to block the door’s passage.
“Madam, I am here to collect my runaway slave.” he told her coolly, calming himself enough not to storm through the place like the madman raging inside.
“Your slave . . .” she looked worried, “Come in sir, allow me to fetch my Master.” she backed up to allow him entry, closed the door behind him and ran for the shadows behind a podium. It cost him a great deal to stand there patiently while he knew his slave was there, and from the worry in that woman’s tone, suffering. But it didn’t take too long before a man came in, somehow projecting solidarity and solemnness despite the greasy feel of his soul.
“I recognized that wretch from the auction, if you bought her, I would shake your hand and call you brother.” he said formally. At the time, Irish mafia, always nervous and inquisitive anyway, had become unbelievably paranoid due to the trade in flesh and the governments efforts to halt it. As such, they created a selection of tests for fringe members, such as buyers, to know other members by, this was one of them. David wasn’t a member of the Irish mafia, not even on the fringe, Uncle Mort however . . .
He reached forward and instead of taking the procured hand and shaking he reached forward and grasped the man’s elbow. The man smiled and took David’s elbow and gave it a hearty shake.
“I can’t claim brotherhood, friend, she was a gift but I will say I was rather fond until this incident. I moved too quickly, thought her tamed when she was merely pretending, I’ll not make that mistake again.”
“Cheap gifts, gotta hate that you must appreciate the thought. They were nearly giving her away, and what with all the scarring and the knee, it’s no surprise, something went wrong with that one.” he tsked.
“Were they all not like that?” David pretended shock.
“No, I bought eight myself, girls would stand on their heads all night if I told them too, don’t even need the chains I stocked, except for fun. Not much to talk too but that’s not really what they’re for anywho eh?” he laughed and David laughed with him.
“Aye, she’s damn simple but not so broken, must have been a mistake. Doctor was probably too soft hearted to kill her. Anyway, I’ll break her, just a matter of time and patience. Is she ready to go?” he wondered, glancing at the slave hostess as if she would scamper off to fetch her.
“Well, you see, we’ve done you a huge favor here, brother. We’ve punished your girl but good for her disobedience and scared her away from running for a good while. If you would just be so kind as to help us end the show, I would be grateful and you could pack her up and head off. Of course, if you don’t want to, I’ll understand and go fetch her, but it’s a good message that all this punishment actually came from the one who she wronged.” he offered magnanimously. Sharp eyes watching him closely.
“Such a generous offer, I would be happy to help and glad for the assistance.” David could see a challenge when offered; they’d never get out of here if the man thought him weak.
“Good on ya man!” he roared genially clapping David on the back, “Just come on through this way, give her a few strokes with a nasty whip and formally forgive her and we’ll pack it up.”
Their timing was surpurb, the flogging they completed with their arrival was a light one comparatively but it had been going on for awhile, I had long since gone senseless and the crowd was getting uncomfortable again. I wasn’t quite aware of the man stopping but the quiet drew my attention. I could feel eyes scorching me but couldn’t see where he was. No, surely I was imagining things; he couldn’t be here. And even as I tried to slip back into nothingness the emcee’s voice roared from somewhere behind me.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, doms and subs, we have a delightful treat to end out special delight here tonight. The treacherous slave’s Master, the very one she ran from this night, is here to finish her punishment and take her home. Please welcome the girl’s Master.” he stepped back and footsteps approached with a faint slithering sound. Surely, he was fictionalizing again. Surely, David was not here. But as he walked into my line of vision, circling me slowly with the whip dangling from his hand, there could be no mistake. David was there, and he was not rescuing me.
CRACK! The whip sounded furiously and for a moment I wondered if he hadn’t just cracked it in the air to scare me, then I felt it. Gods above, it was worse than the cane, worse than I remembered. It ate through my already overpained numbness to hurt more thoroughly, or maybe that was just the individual wielding it. I knew I had been disobedient but how could he?
CRACK! again the pause before the pain hit.
CRACK! CRACK! Two rapid strokes,
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Three this time. All the strokes fell on my back and, judging by the blood I could feel flowing, cut deep. I cried, or I would have if my body had an ounce of liquid to spare. I knew I deserved everything I’d received but nothing hurt worse than David dishing out more pain.
With a clatter, David tossed the whip from him, it had been a long time since he’d used one but he hadn’t lost the skill, I’d wear those marks long after the rest faded. His hand shook so to nearly disrupt his aim but he soldiered on under the gaze of the greasy slaver. Now he moved slowly back into my vision. He cupped my swollen chin and gently kissed my red puffy eyes. I sighed at the tenderness and promptly passed out.
I woke up in my own bed, and let out a great laugh of relief. What a dream! The world seemed so cheerful today, even with those horrors swimming in my consciousness. Happily, I reached over to tug the covers off but something tugged back at my arm. Confused, I peered at my arm and found a little silver needle taped tightly down. I followed the clear tube it was attached too up and back into a medical bag. With my other arm I carefully removed the covers to expose my body, I was naked, but as I was at home that didn’t alarm me, what did alarm me was the purple, red, black and blue, bruises, welts and sores that covered my body.
I opened my mouth and made to scream but no sound came out, my throat was raw and breathing hurt. Now that I was in my right mind, everything hurt, but there was a strange fuzzy haziness that told me it should hurt much more than it did. I looked back up at the bag and suspected strong painkillers.
As if on que, David walked in with a large glass of water and mug of broth and came to sit next to me on the edge of the bed. Silently he handed me the water. The first sip hurt so much I pushed the glass away but he wouldn’t let me.
“Drink,” he ordered. And I took another couple small swallows and he let me push the glass away, “I don’t imagine you can talk yet?” he made the sentence a question but it wasn’t really and he barely acknowledged the small shake of my head in the negative.
“There are many things that need to be said, but you are healing, on medication that makes you less than cognizant and unable to defend yourself, so I will hold off. Rest, drink when you can.” he made to leave but I grabbed his wrist tightly.
“Please,” It was so faint a plea it was barely audible and more of a motion of the lips but he understood. And knowing me as he did he recognize the plea for what it was; I didn’t want to be left alone.
“I will stay until you sleep, I have work to do.” If I were hydrated enough to cry I might have then. It broke my heart that I had hurt our relationship so much that he didn’t want to be around me, that he could be so cold when I was in such pain. I closed my eyes with pain that was so much worse than any wounds I carried, dropped his wrist as if it had burned me and turned my face away. He directed my chin lightly back to him.
“Don’t take it that way, love. You are still my heart, nothing will change that, for better or worse.” He climbed in bed with me and sat back against the headboard as I curled up on his chest. He stroked my hair gently and I allowed the drugs to carry me back off into a stupor.
The next week went by in a medicated haze. When I was awake, someone was there. Sometimes it was David, sometimes it was Mort and sometimes it was an older matronish woman who I was later introduced to, Bridget, Mort’s wife. I discovered later that David was having me watched constantly for a specific reason. I discovered that reason eight days after my ordeal, the second day I was out of bed and trying to recapture the strands of my normal routine.
I had gotten out of bed and went downstairs to make breakfast for David before he went to work. He showered and got ready as he usually did, and we ate but when he was finished and I expected him to head out, he stayed.
“I’ve phoned the hospital and told them I’m having car trouble and will be late. We need to talk.” he said and I nodded and went to sit across the table from him, “Why?” He asked simply and I knew what he meant. I’d given it a lot of thought during the past week, during the times when my mind wasn’t fogged by drugs and pain, why had I gone?
“I think I wanted them to be more than they were. I wanted them to be beaten down, broken, not empty. I wanted them to seem more human so I could pretend I am more human. I think I can’t let go of them because if I get too lost, get too happy, too content, it’ll all be gone and I’ll wake up back at that horrible place and that would be worse than never having left.” I hadn’t meant to say that last bit, hadn’t even thought it in the last week but the instant it left my mouth I knew it to be truth.
“What did you learn?” he asked simply, his face composed.
“I can’t help them, there is no help for them.” I paused, almost unwilling to say the rest, he didn’t urge or hurry me, just waited, “We aren’t human.”
“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that you are not the same as those creatures. You’re not a shell, you are human, even with your unique origin.” He tsked. I looked down at my own hands, ashamed.
“All I could think of, when . . . that night, was how much I loved you. How much I just wanted to be back here, waiting for you to get back from work. How stupid I’d been to disobey.” I kept my eyes on the table. He put his hands over mine and I smiled waterily.
“I love you too, my dear Slave, my Siobhan, but I can’t trust you right now.” It hit me hard but I expected as much, I deserved worse, “I am sorry for all you suffered that night, it was a disgusting greedy thing of him to do, and I’m sorry for the part I was forced to play. I would like to show you the marks, and explain them before I go.” he led me to the tri-mirror in his room and showed me my back. There, perfectly formed and even, were two symbols. The one on the left was like a fish standing on its fins and the one on the right looked like a pennant flag.
“They are runes,” he explained, tracing the spiky symbols, “The first, Othila, represents property, hearth and home.” he paused to let the connotations sink in but before I could ask questions he traced the other, “The other is, Wunjo, joy and love. They say what you are to me, what you always will be to me, even when you’ve disobeyed and done foolish things for foolish reasons.” He shushed me before I could protest and kissed me gently. He drew me back downstairs and had me sit on the couch as he drew a chain out from hiding under the couch. I looked and it attached to the wall in the hall. He locked the shackle around my ankle and locked it with a strong padlock.
“It breaks my heart, slave, but for now you are confined to the house and are to remain naked at all times. Now I know you, I know your intelligence, you could get out and find clothes but I simply suggest you do not pursue such disobedience.” he said it quietly but I heard a world of threat in those words.
“I will obey, Master.” I bowed my head.
“Good girl,” he kissed my forehead and moved out to the door, “Mort will be around later, he was thrilled to hear you are feeling better.” he said and I knew Mort would be reporting back to my Master. I would not fail him, not again.
In truth, Mort didn’t turn up for a week, in that time David and I had very little contact. We slept together but only for the sake of my night terrors, and, unfortunately to my mind, sleep was all we did. Not only was I still too weak and hurt, inside and out, David was still struggling with my disobedience and his anger and guilt over what happened.
When Mort finally came for lunch a week later, he was furious.
“Hell, lass, LuDuis told me you had a brain in your skull!” he railed. I took the abuse, knowing it was justified, he was looking out for his nephew, “You could have gotten us all killed!” My head snapped up.
“What?!” I was sure he was railing because I betrayed David, who’s life had been threatened besides mine?
“If the big wigs got wind that LuDuis made a slave with brains and that we allowed her to be out wandering and talking, we’d all be under the bloody hammer. My boss would be first in line with a bat, bastard hates me so.” he spat, his accent thickened as his anger mounted and I was puzzled.
“You’re boss?” I wondered.
“The Irish Mob, lass, how’d you think I got into that cattle room, or even met LuDuis, did David never tell you?” his awareness of my confusion batted away some of his righteous anger.
“Is he . . . ?” I swallowed, I didn’t think I wanted to know if my Master was really just a dilute branch of those who made me.
“Ta,” he waved his hand dismissively, “He played at joining in school but he was all about being a doctor, and LuDuis doesn’t want another doctor anywhere near his bit, so he moved on.”
“I didn’t realize.” I whispered, sinking down onto a chair in the kitchen.
“Really, lass, why did you go after them on your own?” he wondered gently, sitting opposite me. I explained, best I could, about my turmoil about being test tube born and the similarities. I don’t think he really understood but he seemed to be done railing at me.
“And you’re done with that now?” he wondered blandly.
“Not like I have a choice.” I raised a sarcastic eyebrow at him and showed him the shackled padlocked about my ankle. He snorted his distain for so superfluous a restraint. I raised my eyebrow at him.
“You expect me to believe you can’t get out of that?” he wondered, dryly.
“I expect you to believe that the only reason I would is to vex David into a little play, and I’m nearly ready to do that. I know I did wrong I’m just so sick of being punished for it. All the bloody pain, every day, and then David looks at me like I’m a fucking leper. Don’t mistake me, I’m not going anywhere, I just don’t know how much longer I’m going to meekly accept his cold shoulder.”
“Good on ya then,” he nodded and headed out, pausing only for a moment to appraise my condition, “’Tis a crime that even marked, scarred and discolored as ye are right now, yer the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on, save for me dear Bridget.” he added hurriedly, as if his wife was listening. He kissed my cheek gently and was gone.
David came home on time that evening, looking a little sheepish. I was kneeling in the entrance hall, just as I had that first night and every night since he’d chained me. He leaned down and kissed my forehead then cupped my face with his hand and drew me to my feet. It was the most intimate touch he’d given in a week. I smiled, Mort must have rounded on him as well after my frustrated outburst.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about our connection to the mob, I take it for granted sometimes, I forget you would have no way of knowing.” he smiled sheepishly and sat me on the couch to take off the chain.
“’Tis well, Master, I should have known you had a good reason for not drawing attention.” he knelt in front of me, unlocked the padlocked and rubbed the discomfort out of my ankle. He then pulled my head close for a rather less chaste kiss that had me breathing hard by the end. He glanced at the stairs but at that very moment his stomach rumbled. We laughed and went into the kitchen.
“Mort isn’t actually your uncle, is he?” I asked finally, I had considered it all day and all the facts led to only one conclusion. He smiled at me wistfully and nodded.
“Me da was an immigrant from Ireland and moved into the area and worked for Ma’s folks at a store and they married and inherited the store when Ma’s folks died. Well, a gang moved into the area soon after I was born and they hounded the owners for ‘protection’ money, well, Da was naive and thought they were on the up and up and sent them off assuring them that he trusted the law to do that job. They beat him to death and roughed Ma up quite a bit. A few months later the mob chased out the gang and bought up the neighborhood. Ma didn’t want to sell but the gang had choked off the neighborhood and she wasn’t making any money and she was deathly sick with me still in swaddling. One week, Mort came around for the rent and Ma didn’t answer the door. He went to move on but heard me crying something fierce so he broke in and Ma was gone and I was half starved, there in my crib. Bridget can’t have children so he took me home.” he finished, looking uncomfortable at divulging so much. I put my hand over his in silent comfort and he smiled and rubbed the flesh between my thumb and finger with his thumb.
“How do you feel?” he asked gently.
“I am well.” I assured him with a smile. My back was still healing, my bruises still held the color of old parchment and I still hurt quite a bit but even if he had asked the moment we got back, with that light in his eye, I would have said the same thing. He smiled back, predatorily, and scooped me up in his arms. I gave a delighted giggle and wrapped my arms tight around his neck as I attached my lips to his. We had a ways to go but we would heal.
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