Wilt

by Rae, Nikki

“He's a few years older than me,” he said as my fingers traced the edge of picture, “but we'd become friends in the Boy's Compound, La Harve, France. Master Lyon wanted me so badly he agreed to take Marius on as a servant during our courting stage.”

  I wanted to throw up. I knew these things happened daily, but hearing him refer to his old Owner—with the same name and title as him—made it all too real. In the Order, children were encouraged to not only idealize rich men and women, but fantasize about them equally. Most girls and boys were happy to be accepted as either servant or pet, eager to serve a higher Member if it meant they were safe from all the dangers of the Mainworld. It came as no surprise that Master Lyon had been bought by a man; that this man—if one could call him that—saw more of an advantage in focusing on boys’ Compounds than girls’.

  I flipped the page and found a new photograph of an older, distinguished looking man. Though his hairline receded a little, I could definitely tell that at one time, he'd been attractive. The pin on his black suit mirrored the one on the album and I knew immediately who he was. The other Master Lyon.

  “There he is.” I hadn’t realized he’d stood until he was reaching over me to point. Even though there was a chair right across from me, he chose to share my seat, pressing me into the arm of the chair. “I was more undesirable than Marius,” he went on, seemingly talking to himself. “I was wild; too much trouble. Marius was a ‘good influence’, my Owner would say.” He looked down at it with me, then took the page from between my fingers and flipped the page, perhaps not wanting to look at it too long. On the next page, there was a picture of two boys sitting at a much smaller table in the same dining room I'd eaten in many times.

  One was blond and the other had dark hair, neatly combed. The one with the dark hair wore a party hat in light blue and his cheeks were flushed to just under the collar of his pressed white shirt. He couldn't have been more than twelve, which made the little boy sitting across from him, sliding a tiny box wrapped in crinkled green paper, Master Elliot.

  “No punishments affected me,” he said. “Pain didn’t work, rewards didn’t work, and so when I disobeyed, Marius was the one who bore my punishments.”

  I glanced at him, trying not to convey my shock. He wouldn’t look at me, staring at the photos before us.

  I brought the book closer to my face to get a better look; he was smiling fully with his mouth, a few front teeth missing, yet I wasn't convinced he was happy when I looked into his eyes. They were the same deep brown, so much older than they should have looked on the little seven year old. It seemed like someone else was staring back at me and the image disturbed me so much I had to shut the book.

  Unexpected tears flooded my eyes, threatening to blur my vision. “Is…” I set down the book, afraid of what I might do with it. “Is tonight my transfer, sir?” The more I spoke, the softer my voice became. The last part of the sentence was little more than a whisper.

  Placing the cigarette back in the ashtray, he set it aside, reaching over to squeeze my knee. “I thought I ordered you not to speak until I said so,” he said, all humor and taunting gone. But then he added, “No.”

  Still, I wasn’t exactly comforted. Though this piece of information was good news, I still didn’t know what was happening. A tear trickled down my nose and into my lap before I had time to catch myself.

  He placed a hand on my leg, grip tightening slightly as he turned to face me.

  I bit my tongue as I struggled to make them stop. Another order I’d forgotten.

  Master Lyon removed the moisture from my cheek with a knuckle. “How will you ever survive if you forget the rules when there are more players brought in?”

  His words were gentle, sad. They made me want to hide.

  “Please,” I whispered. “I promise to behave if you just tell me, sir.”

  He stroked my hair with his free hand. “I know you’re afraid,” he said. “But as long as you obey me, you’ll be safe. That is all you need to do.”

  I shook my head, unwilling to accept his non-answer. “Sir, please,” I barely said. “I-I—”

  “Shh,” he soothed, fingers playing with the diamonds of my dress and then circling the scars he could reach. He leaned in close so he could speak directly into my ear. “You’ve come so far,” he said, outlining the higher, larger scars as if to emphasize his point. “If you want them to suffer, tonight is the first step towards that goal.” He tucked hair behind my ear and cupped my cheek. “Even if you cannot see it now, know that we want the same thing.”

  It was hard not to laugh at the absurdity; what we wanted couldn’t be more different. I wanted to be free and he wanted me to be caged.

  “And what is that, sir?”

  “To destroy them,” he almost growled, but the anger wasn’t directed at me.

  This time when he moved away and we stared at each other, his eyes burned with sincerity while the rest of his face remained a hard mask. I wanted to deny his convictions, believe he was lying, but it was impossible. This wasn’t an act an Owner was putting on to convince a girl that her sacrifice for him wasn’t selfish. This was Elliot, trying his best to keep everyone he loved safe—whether we were worthy or capable of love or not. I only hoped, whatever his definition of the word, he loved me enough to keep his promises.

  Six

  He brought me back upstairs to my room and instructed me to brush my teeth and use the bathroom. He left momentarily and I waited for him by the vanity, careful to avoid my reflection. He emerged from the closet with a black duffle bag in hand and I had to lean against the chair for fear of falling over. My eyes widened as he set it on the ground and undid the zipper.

  Master Lyon motioned with his head towards the vanity. “Have a seat, Doe,” he said.

  Without a word, I turned away from him and stared into my lap. It occurred to me that I could use the mirror to my advantage and I scanned its surface in search of his reflection in the hopes that I would see what he was taking out of the bag. It was hard not to think about our first night together in that hotel; how he’d had a bag just like that and how he’d used the items inside to take out the Compound’s tracker and insert his. Now I understood its purpose: To protect me. If the Compound knew where I was, one of them could find me at a moment’s notice, and there were many who would like to hurt me. With his tracker, he would always be able to find me. A deep, sharp pain collided with my chest and I forced myself to breathe through it. Had I not pried the machinery out, it would still be in place, inconspicuous. Master Lyon would be able to know where I was with the Wolf at all times. The fact that he hadn’t replaced it only confirmed that there was no concrete plan to get me back. If things were too complicated or difficult, would he even bother?

  I hadn’t noticed I was staring at the scar I’d created and he’d sewn shut into a neat pink line until he spoke again. “That’s good, ma petit,” he said. “Keep looking at yourself. I want you to see who you are.”

  I didn’t understand what he meant but I didn’t have a chance to analyze it before he was standing behind me, only his torso and lower half visible. “Keep your eyes forward.” He didn’t move until he was certain I obeyed.

  He placed my arms loosely behind me and I did my best to keep my eyes on my own face without having to actually look at myself. I blurred my vision on purpose and it shook in time to the erratic pulse in my ears.

  Slowly, he wound a red cord around his fingers, extending sections of it in front of him as if measuring them out. I took a deep breath, watching my tinted lips as they blew it out.

  He positioned my left arm further behind my back, clasping my right with my own fingers and almost touching my elbows. This stretched muscles that hadn’t been used much in a long time, but it wasn’t completely unpleasant.

  “Does this hurt?” The rope was surprisingly smooth as it slid across my wrists.

  “No, sir.” My voice was hoarse. “It’s just…uncomfortable.”

  He was silent and all I heard was the sound o
f the rope against itself as he tied my wrists behind my back. It wasn’t too tight, but there was also no doubt in my mind that I wouldn’t be able to get out of them without his help. His front grazed my back as he leaned forward to wrap this length of red rope around my shoulder and across my chest, creating a line above my breasts as it wound around the other side and he did something else at my wrists. He repeated the same action again, this time under my breasts. Again, it was secure, but not painful. I didn’t feel the full effect of it until he was nearly done, pulling part of the rope through its final knot so my arms were pulled downward, pushing my chest out at an angle.

  When he was done, he brought something else to the vanity, purposefully keeping it from view.

  The collar shouldn’t have jarred me the way it did, but my eyes watered as the cold metal lay around my neck. A sharp, quick smack to my bare thigh and I snapped out of my panic, glancing at the reflection of his torso in the mirror.

  “What did I say about crying, Doe?” he murmured.

  Nodding to myself, I shut my eyes for a moment and made them stop.

  Even though this collar was far more impressive than the last one he’d made me wear, I’d worn a few in my life, and until now, they’d all felt like the kiss of a blade against my throat. The light caught the tiny diamonds lining each side, the engraved emblem of House Chimera in the middle. I never would have imagined a collar feeling like a shield, but that was exactly how it felt, wearing one that declared I belonged to him.

  He lowered his head to mine as he fastened the silver collar behind my neck, tightening it slightly. “You like it.” He wasn’t asking.

  I should have been embarrassed that he’d seen me admiring the thing instead of gaping in fear, but it was the truth, and if I could give in to the truth with anyone, it was him. “Yes, sir,” I answered. “It’s…beautiful.” I wanted to think of a better word to describe it. I’d made it sound like I was a piece of jewelry—an ornament—but this was much more.

  Through the corner of my eye, I could see a hint of a smile in the mirror as he stepped back over to the bag. The strap of leather with the deep red rubber ball was familiar. Jäger had made me wear one the first few days I was with him. Once he’d shown who he really was, he couldn’t trust me not to bite.

  “Open,” he demanded as he came closer.

  My arms strained, fingers only able to clench into useless fists. In the mirror, I silently pleaded with him with wide eyes, praying how desperate I was, how terrified, would make him rethink this decision.

  Master Lyon lowered the contraption and brought it behind my back so I couldn’t see. “Just breathe, Doe,” whispered, opening my palm and letting me feel the smooth orb, the soft leather.

  This material was much more forgiving than the metal one Jäger had shoved into my mouth. I did as he told me, taking deep breaths.

  He straightened when I had composed myself and brought the gag in front of me again. “We can’t afford any mistakes tonight,” he said, holding it up to my face.

  I forced my jaw open, unable to make it as wide as he wanted.

  “You’ve done well so far,” he said as the soft rubber ball was wedged between my tongue and the roof of my mouth. “I know you won’t disappoint me. Will you, Doe?”

  As the leather was buckled behind my head—underneath my hair so all of the styling wasn’t wasted—I thought I had things under control, but something in this posture, unable to move or speak, made me hyperventilate through my nostrils until I began to feel dizzy.

  Master Lyon’s warm hands were on my shoulders and he knelt directly behind me so I still couldn’t see him, nose against my neck. “Breathe deeply through your nose.” His deep voice vibrated down my spine and through the rope around my arms.

  It was difficult with the foreign object in my mouth, but as long as I concentrated, I could do it.

  “Good.” He stood and kissed the top of my head. “You see? When you listen to me, you’re safe.”

  I nodded, only able to see his back as he left without a goodbye.

  I wasn’t sure what I was expected to do now. He hadn’t indicated he’d wanted me to follow him and he hadn’t told me I could stop staring at the mirror. It was harder not to take in my appearance with my own drool dripping onto my chin and then my chest, and my concentration slipped until I was face to face with who’d I become. My eyes were larger than usual, enhanced with mascara and eyeliner. Every tiny imperfection all natural skin possessed had vanished under a thin layer of concealer, which emphasized how pale I was so much that they’d had to balance it out with a blush that made my cheeks rosier than I’d ever seen them and my lips a borderline unnatural red. My hair was soft and wavy, and I couldn’t escape how long it had gotten, leading down to my mostly exposed chest and the ropes that bound it in place.

  This was what he’d meant by seeing who I was. In all honesty, Master Lyon probably knew that I hadn’t truly seen myself until this moment, and maybe that was why he left me by myself for so long. It was impossible to tell how much time passed, but through every ticking minute counting down to the moment I would be brought wherever he was taking me, I didn’t look away. I didn’t avoid my eyes, my full lips wrapped around the wet rubber, the pathetic way my saliva pooled between my breasts. He’d made me look this way for a reason. It was as if he was preparing me for a role I should play: The beautiful, helpless, once-dangerous girl; now completely exposed and devoted to her Owner.

  A knock came on the door what felt like hours later, and if I had to guess, it had actually been that long. Mr. B cracked open the door when I didn’t answer, most likely already knowing the orders I’d been given.

  “Miss Doe,” he said, and my cheeks flamed yet again as I watch him in the mirror. “Master Lyon has instructed me to inform you that you may stop looking at yourself.”

  As if coming up from under water, I blinked and stood, my legs aching from being still for so long. He was right in front of me, but I couldn’t meet his eyes.

  “Nothing to be ashamed about,” he said simply, wiping my mouth and collarbone with a white handkerchief from his breast pocket. “The Master has put you in this position because he believes you can withstand it.” What Master Lyon had told me was impossible to keep out of my mind. Had he taken so many punishments, endured so much torture that these things were routine to him?

  When I looked up at him, he gave me a small, sad smile. We were all powerless, and moments like this that reminded me of it.. “You’ll do well, Miss Doe.” He didn’t even hesitate to call me by Master Lyon’s name; my appearance had erased any doubt of who I was.

  Reaching into his pocket, he unfolded a rectangle silky black fabric the size of a pillowcase. I’d worn hoods many times to meet Suitors, but I’d been everywhere in this house. Why would they need to hide where we were going if I could easily guess?

  The same sad smile greeted me when I tore my eyes away. He didn’t want to put the hood on me any more than I wanted to wear it. However, we all had out duties, and we needed to flawlessly play these roles we were handed.

  I stilled myself, fists clenching behind my back and frustrated that my arms were bound and I couldn’t wrap them around myself.

  I let him slip the hood over my head and he was careful to avoid messing up my hair or makeup. The drawstring at the bottom rested around my neck, and he closed out the tiny amount of light by tying it underneath my chin. I could see nothing—not even a change in light.

  “Are you able to breathe?” he asked, sounding closer than he’d originally been standing.

  It was more than difficult to calm my nerves enough to do as Master Lyon had instructed and breathe deeply through my nose. However, once I did, my heart rate slowed and it was easier to keep it steady. I nodded slowly, feeling the hood move a fraction against the back of my head.

  “Nearly ready,” Mr. B said. “I just need to help you on with your shoes.”

  While the Forgotten women had dressed me, I wondered why they hadn’t put on
my shoes. I’d seen the tall stilettos that would encompass my feet—closed-toed, black suede, and the heels far too thin to support me—yet they remained on the floor in the closet until now. I heard Mr. B retrieve them and he let me lean into him as the shoes pinched my toes and made my calf muscles ache.

  “There we are,” he said when he was done, keeping a reassuring hand on my arm to make sure I wouldn’t fall.

  I tried to swallow and failed, half of it dripping out the corner of my mouth.

  “I’m going to guide you downstairs now,” he explained, hand switching to my knotted hands at my back. Instinctively, I grasped his fingers and he surprised me when he returned the gesture.

  I managed to only trip a few times as we made our descent. It was silent in the house now, and I was reminded of what Master Lyon had taught me recently: When one freedom is taken away, you must learn to use what you have left. I felt the hard marble through my aching soles as we stepped downward. I heard how silent the house was and that made me almost more uneasy than if I’d heard a noisy crowd of spectators. I didn’t want to think that perhaps no one was here besides me, Mr. B, and Master Lyon. There was a tiny possibility, but it was far, far more likely that I’d been primped, exposed, and drooling with a hood over my head for a specific reason.

  Once we were on the ground floor, Mr. B said, “All right, Miss Doe. Just allow me to lead the way and we’ll be there.”

  Another impeded swallow around the gag was all I could offer as a response. I wanted to talk to him now more than ever, ask him where we were going and what was about to happen to me. It didn’t matter if I knew for a fact that he wouldn’t tell me. Anything was better than wondering.

  I’d barely been paying attention to the sound of our footsteps, but now they were different. It sounded less open where we were now, and I thought that perhaps we were walking down the hall. We didn’t go far before we stopped. There was a sudden creak of metal and I jumped, stumbling into a nearby wall.

  Mr. B righted me. “No cause for alarm, Miss Doe,” he said. “We are taking the service elevator, and there is a gate in front of it I had to move. It’s perfectly safe, I assure you.” He was every bit his composed, polite self.