by Poppy Flynn
"And that was my life. Day after day, month after month, year after year. I was never allowed clothes, not regular clothes, anyway. I never saw anyone else…" she trailed off and swallowed hard, and when she spoke again, her voice was a choked whisper. "…except when he sometimes had…friends…over, and they would join in the torment." Micah closed his eyes against the implication of what she was not saying and felt his stomach heave.
"And I was never allowed out of the house unless he chained me, out in the dark, as a punishment, usually when the weather was bad, otherwise, what would be the point?" She laughed humourlessly, and it was an empty, chilling sound.
"Or sometimes when it was far too hot for any sane person to be out in the scorching sun without liquids or protection.
Micah felt his nails cut into the flesh of his palms and realised that he had internalised his rage to the point of injury, but it still cost him a concerted effort to relax the impotent fists his hands had balled into.
"He never realised, but it was the hot days that allowed me a chance to find out where I was and what was around me, despite the eight-foot fences. There were no other houses right next door, but I knew they were close, because sometimes I could hear people or animals in the distance. There were fields to the rear, out past a thick, prickly hedge along the back boundary. I escaped by squeezing through it where it thinned."
As he looked at her thin forearms and shins where they poked out of the blanket, he realised the cause of the deep scratches and the nasty looking punctures she was peppered with.
"The weather was foul, freezing cold with sleet interspersed with hail. I thought for sure I was going to die, finally. He left me out there for so long, watching from the window as I shivered, and my feet and fingers turned so numb that the pain was almost unbearable. I knew, if I didn't find a way out, that this punishment would be my last, but at least he hadn't chained me that night, because the weather was so bad, he didn't want to go out in it, himself."
"My God, he turned you out naked?" Micah muttered, horrified, part statement, part question. Melody looked up at him solemnly through the veil of extraordinarily long eyelashes, and although she didn't answer, Micah knew that he was right. He swallowed harshly, bile rising up to burn his throat, his fingers lacing with her own and holding tight, unsure, now, who was taking comfort from whom.
"I was making a plan in my head when he decided to turn off the outside lights. It was supposed to be another part of my punishment, but it was actually my salvation, my opportunity to escape."
The tiniest of smiles brushed Melody's lips. "I took the tarpaulin from the woodpile to wrap around me and squeezed through the hedge, where it was thinnest, out into the field. Then I ran and ran. I heard him shout, but I kept on going. I found a cottage across the field, but I didn't dare stop, in case they knew him."
Her voice drifted to a faltering stop, and Micah was surprised, after all this time and all the strength she'd shown, that there was a soft, unexpected sob.
As he peered at her, he noticed the lone tear that quietly trickled down her cheek. He couldn't stop himself, this time, from leaning over and gently wiping it away with his thumb.
"What happened at the cottage, Melody?" he asked, wondering how there could be something there that upset her more than the rest of her deeply disturbing story.
Heat reddened her face and Micah realised she was embarrassed. She ducked her head and refused to look at him, her lips pressed into a tight moue of discontent that only endeared her to him.
"There were some boots on the porch," she whispered so quietly, he had to bend his head closer to hear. "And when I decided to take them, I noticed a lovely, warm scarf as well, so I stole that, too. I never stole anything in my life until that day!" Her voice broke on another sob, and finally, Micah relented his hard stance and pulled her to him in a gentle embrace, his heart breaking for the young woman in his arms. It was unbelievable that after all she'd been put through, after enduring being held captive, escaping the abuse and fleeing the near-death situation of being turned naked out into the frigid night, she was genuinely more upset about the fact that she'd had to appropriate some wellies and a scarf in order to keep from freezing to death. She was a complete sweetheart, Micah realised, and right then and there, he vowed to be the best Master he could possibly be, until the time came that she was able to stand on her own two feet.
"Don't worry," he promised earnestly. "I'll take care of it."
He meant every word.
Chapter 5
By the end of the day, he had sufficiently treated Melody's frostbite, and the pain in her feet had reached epic proportions. She was trying to put a brave face on it, but Micah could see her pain and the quiet tears she tried to hide.
It was a Monday night, one of the few days the club was closed, so Micah was able to keep a close eye on her and devote more of his time than he would usually have been able.
He'd just come to the realisation that she wasn't going to ask for anything, the reality of being able to do so, still too new to her, when Xavier called by to check on her.
Thankfully, his sadist, no nonsense attitude saw Melody taking pain killers, agreeing to eat a bowl of nourishing chicken soup and submitting to another inspection of her injuries after which Xavi proclaimed that a shower followed by a leisurely dip in the club's hydro pool was finally in order.
"You'll need to supervise both," he told Micah in no uncertain terms. "She mustn't be on her feet in the shower, but she really does need to get cleaned up. If it hadn't been for the need to warm the frostbite so slowly, I'd have insisted on it first thing." The good doctor turned his head to consider his patient, who now lounged, dozing, on the couch. Trinity had come by earlier in the day and brought some clothes for Melody to wear, but Micah had kept her wrapped up in the blankets until he had Xavier's agreement that Melody's frostbite was treated well enough for her to get properly cleaned up.
"I'd suggest a bath, but she's so caked in mud and dried blood that I don't want her sitting in her own filth," Xavi proclaimed in his usual forthright manner. "We need to reduce the risk of infection, but those cuts and abrasions really need a good soaking in that medication I gave you. Plus, I noticed her muscles are tight as hell, which is another reason why the hydro pool would be more beneficial, but you can't leave her in it alone, in case she passes out again, so be prepared to be a little hands-on. After that, the wounds will need to be kept dry, so take care to make sure they're completely clean and use the filter system in the hydro pool after she's soaked for the first fifteen minutes so she's getting fresh water circulating those injuries to avoid cross infection."
"I've agreed to take on the role of her master until she is ready to be a little more independent," Micah said hesitantly.
"Good!" Xavier stated without a qualm. "I realise it probably goes against your principles, Micah, but she's clearly had a hard time of things over quite a sustained period. She's out of her element here; she needs guidance and support on how to get her life back and start making her own decisions."
Xavi smiled a rare smile and clapped Micah on the shoulder. "I can't think of anyone more suitable to show her the way, son," he complimented sincerely. "You are the one person who can understand all of the psychological implications of what she has been through and what she needs in order to move forward. And I know you are probably the only man who can successfully wade through that minefield without taking advantage of her, however inadvertently."
The older man packed up his things, ready to take his leave, and Micah walked him to the door, contemplating his words.
"Still, it's a huge undertaking and one I know you're probably not completely comfortable with after Sara, so good luck to you."
Micah stood for a long time after Xavier had left, considering the truth of what he had said. Xavi had hit the nail on the head, after all. The one thing Micah had never wanted in his life was a Master/slave relationship. He didn't want the responsibility of being in total control of every move a woman made.
He didn't have the time or the energy to think for another person as well as for himself, and everything that was happening now, with Melody, was contrary to his personal feelings on a relationship dynamic.
And yet that was the very thing that Melody needed. Not because she necessarily wanted to be a slave in the sense of a D/s relationship, but because her entire adult life had consisted of relationships where she wasn't required to think for herself or function on her own terms. First as a 'little' to a 'Daddy' who controlled her life, then as a captive; a permanent, real life slave, and now, she had no idea how to function by herself.
It was the very same dynamic that his girlfriend and submissive, Sara, had started to demand from him. The very thing that had caused the cracks in their relationship to widen into a permanent split when she decided to walk out on him, to turn her back on the three years they had spent together and seek out a Dom who would fulfil her desire to become a 24/7 slave.
Micah clenched his teeth against the bad taste the memories left in his mouth. The anniversary of Sara's death always brought a whole host of misgivings and guilt and he had a feeling this year was going to be worse than usual with the situation with Melody added into the mix, but he wasn't ready to go there just yet. Instead, he brought his focus back to Melody and the fact that he was going to need to seek out some help from another club member, Detective Andy Storer, to look into her claims of abduction and abuse. There needed to be some serious investigation and justice brought into this scenario.
But first, the clean up!
Melody was dozing quite contentedly. The doctor had given her some extra strong medication for the pain in her feet which had become bone deep and excruciating and her belly was pleasantly full, from eating the chunky chicken soup and crusty fresh baked bread. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt this warm and comfortable and not had the gnawing pains of hunger clawing at her stomach. Sure, she was disgustingly grungy and covered in cuts, bruises, and welts, but, for the first time in many years, none of them were new, so it was all bearable. Plus, the doctor had said she could have a shower now that her feet were treated, and Master had even promised her it would be warm. The old one—she needed to think of something to call him now he was no longer her mast…no, she didn't even want to think of him in the same terms as Micah, or even Daddy—well, if he had permitted her to wash, then the water had always been cold. A hot shower was going to be a real treat. Melody smiled to herself and snuggled down a little more into her cosy nest of blankets. There were even some clothes—proper, warm, winter clothes, to put on afterward. She was really feeling quite spoiled.
She didn't hear Micah's return until he spoke to her.
"Come on, sleepy head, time for that shower," he called, giving her a gentle nudge.
Melody yawned and sat up, preparing to stand, when he dropped a large fluffy towel in her lap and swung her up into his arms.
"I can walk!" Melody protested as she instinctively threw her arms around his neck for balance.
"No, you can't," Micah denied. "Doctor's orders, remember, you need to stay off those feet."
He disentangled her from all but a single blanket. "Hold onto that towel," he reminded as he carried her effortlessly down the hallway and into another area of the club, past several large rooms with big windows. She tried to see inside, but they were all in darkness. All except the one he walked into, which looked like a bathroom…but not. For a start, it was the biggest bathroom she had ever seen and, on top of that, one whole wall was made of glass, so anybody could see inside. The shower stall was big enough to fit at least half a dozen people in it and a marble bench stretched along one side which Micah sat her down on before taking back the towel and hanging it on a handy hook.
"As much as I'd like to give you some privacy, I need to check that these abrasions are cleaned properly and that you don't pass out while you're in here. I hope you're okay with that?"
Melody blinked at him, perplexed. He was her master; she would do whatever he wished. Why was he asking her? She remembered that he kept telling her she had choices. She didn't really know what that meant. Did he mean this? Did it matter? She didn't have a problem with him seeing or using her body for his pleasure. He had been more than nice to her and treated her kindly. He seemed disinclined to beat her and he wasn't even forcing her. Besides, she owed him more than she would ever be able to repay.
"It's not a problem," she told him honestly. Heck, she might even enjoy the feel of his body; he was pretty easy on the eyes after all.
Dutifully, she pulled the blanket from around her and passed it to Micah, so he could put it somewhere dry, then she waited quietly whilst he got undressed. The muscles he uncovered as his clothes came off had her eyes widening. She had known he was well built, it was difficult to miss, but naked, except for a pair of body-hugging boxer shorts, he was something else again and she felt a shiver of some completely alien sensation shoot an arrow of heat into the pit of her belly. Oh, damn! She hoped all that food she'd been given wasn't going to make her sick. She'd eaten far more than she was used to having.
Melody frowned. No, it wasn't nausea she was feeling.
She couldn't help staring as he stepped in front of her and started adjusting the many knobs and sprays in the almost futuristic, all singing, all dancing shower. Micah's body was unlike any she had ever seen before. The brute, as she had decided to think of him, had been broad but was lazy and had been developing the first signs of a paunch. Daddy had been kind of saggy and cuddly, but then he'd also been much older, much older than even her real father would have been. Even the boys at her co-ed foster home had been pale and skinny. Not that she'd ever seen this much of them, but they had liked to strut around with their shirts off like they were something.
Micah was naturally tanned despite his fair hair, and his muscles were so big, they bulged! His abdomen was rippled…was that what people called a six pack? Because there were definitely more than six! More like eight. His thighs were thick in a way that was completely foreign even though his waist was narrow, and his butt was tight, and his pecs were so defined that Melody thought they were probably bigger than her own non-existent breasts!
If Micah was uncomfortable with her frank perusal, he didn't mention it, even though Melody felt her face heat a little at being caught staring. Still, the intrigue with his impressive musculature overrode her embarrassment, even when he raised a single amused eyebrow.
"Can you teach me how to get some muscles?" she blurted, squeezing her own skinny biceps.
"The first thing we need to do with you is get some meat on your bones, but once you've gained a decent amount of weight, I can help you improve your muscle tone. It wouldn't be safe to do that until we've managed to get you to a healthy body weight, though."
He grinned at her then and Melody felt her heart give an unexpected stutter. He was just so beautiful. Although she guessed boys—men—didn't like to be called beautiful. But so far, that was exactly how he seemed, beautiful on the inside as well as the outside. She hoped that never changed. She really wanted to find some faith in mankind, and so far, Micah was helping her believe. She really hoped it wasn't all a lie. As she shook herself out of her reverie, she realised he was still talking.
"Although, once we've fattened you up a bit…" he paused and grimaced, only just realising how those words might sound. "Sorry, that didn't come out right!"
Melody giggled at his perceived predicament. It was a sound foreign to her own ears and she started in surprise before giggling again in delight. It was good to feel light and free enough to laugh.
"Umm, anyway," Micah continued. "Once we've, umm, done that, it would probably be beneficial to improve your musculature. I'd guess yours have wasted somewhat with such severe weight loss, but don't worry, I know where there's a good gym."
He winked then, and Melody felt that funny little kick in her stomach again.
It was a rather surreal situation, this one. Micah lathered up his hand in the rich, vanil
la scented, antibacterial body wash from the dispensers in the club's wet playroom and tried his best to approach washing Melody with as much dispassion and distance as he could muster. He hadn't imagined that it would be this difficult, though.
His ingrained subconscious kept telling him that he was in a BDSM club playroom with a naked woman covered in lash marks and wanting to give the image an entirely different connotation to reality. Sure, his conscious thoughts told him that these were the evidence of abuse, not a wild, consensual party in the dungeon, but the mixed aspects were screwing with his head, leaving him with the overwhelming urge to gently stroke the suds sensuously all over her body and take care of her, making it a pleasure for both of them.
Jesus! Don't be such a fucking pervert, he told himself derisively.
"What?" Melody asked with a frown, looking over her shoulder to where he was soaping her back. It was only then that he realised that he'd muttered the words aloud under his breath.
Grabbing one of the detachable shower heads, he directed it over her greasy, matted hair and instead replied, "Tip your head back." He managed to bite the 'sweetheart' off before it left his mouth at least.
He wet her hair then turned his attention to lathering it up, concentrating on trying to get the neglected tresses clean instead of focusing on the false impressions bombarding his brain. He was better than that, damn it!
The first lot of lather disappeared into nothing and Micah set about rinsing and repeating. This was going to take a while, he realised, and he was torn between wanting to ask how her hair had managed to become so unkempt and not wanting to know the answer.
In the end, both thoughts were knocked from his head when Melody gave a soft groan at his ministrations as he massaged the scented lather into her scalp.
"Am I hurting you?" he asked, stilling his fingers and wondering if there were injuries he hadn't seen.