“You.”
I’m unaware of the time table of our first sexual encounter when he stripped me from my virginity, replacing my young innocent body with a woman’s. I forgot who I was, as if he reached into my soul and hooked my heart around his fist and pulled, as if it’s his to own.
It was well into the night when his palm rested on my cheek awakening me.
“Dr. Vane.” I said through a groggy voice.
“You will refer to me a Master tonight.”
The first hint, of fear flutters. like a doe in the forest seconds before the hunter’s rifle fires. I felt strangely unsettled. As his hand clasp my wrist, my pulse accelerated to light speed dragging me from the warmth of my bed. Clad only in my nightgown and trembling as he lead me down the steps of the cellar, the light fading into a musty damp cold room.
I scan the space, it’s concrete walls and floor cold beneath my bear feet. Cracks in the foundation weeping moisture down its veins.
“Undress.” His voice is harsh, dangerous, as if possessed by some unknown demon.
Burning shame turned to anger as tears trickle down my face. At first everything told me to stand my ground. Deny him, I wasn’t about to hand over the power so easily. But the moment I gazed up searching for the man I’ve come to know, fear pricked like a sharp needle against my skin. He was nowhere to be found.
“Careful precious, eyes cast down.” I obey immediately. “And the gown.” My shaky fingers run along my hem, yet I obey, lifting it over my head as cold cruel eyes relished each moment of my struggle. Who was this man before me?
Once again, I’m pulled across the cold floor, unfamiliar with the apparatuses surrounding me. His eloquence and beauty were there to remind me this was still Dr. Vane, the man I’d grown intimately close to, yet I was beginning to understand I didn’t know him at all. I watched as he unclasped each button of his shirt then tossed it on a wooden bench. His frantic breath can be seen as his chest moves up and down. But he remains composed and focused solely on me.
“Kneel.” The word dragging me under the deep dark water cold, stealing the last breath from my body as I surrender to the inevitable. And now, his eyes betray me, they flash between heartless, and heart filled. With a curt nod unknowing what he expects of me I do as he says.
Transition of power. Beneath the surface emotions scattered like mice across the floor, it would not be discussed, nor negotiated.
He moved about me with grace reaching for objects I had no knowledge of. He stood before me, fear dictating my actions, as I wait.
“You, my angel are my fatal flaw.” It doesn’t take long to notice his throbbing erection buried under his gray slacks. His hands busy around his belt, the clasp undone, sliding slowly through their loops until the tail whips out.
Confusion and fear explode with visions of horror run through my mind, fighting the urge to run, to flee but knowing I wouldn’t get far.
“It’s time precious.” His arms embrace me lifting me to my feet, his warmth familiar. I push the thoughts of wanting him away. I’m terrified of my own reaction. I didn’t want him like this, not this way. Yet, even as unwelcome his behavior has become a secret part of me still yearns for the man I know is there, buried beneath the rubble.
In only seconds I’m tied up, otherwise restrained my hands raised above my head, secured by a rope. Darkness clawing to escape the hidden truth behind my professor’s mask.
“Beautiful my precious girl.”
“Dr…” I beg. “Please.”
And then I felt it, one stinging strike of the foreign object, leather pieces bound together leaving a hot red mark in its place.
“Master.” He says, correcting me. As another strike lands on the opposing side.
“Master.” I obey. The pain bearable, but not pleasurable. Three more strikes, I felt the room spin, it went beyond my comprehension, with each strike I could hear his moan, I knew that moan, had heard it against my ear as he pushed inside of me. Then he drops the device, a loud thud was heard when it hit the concrete floor.
Suddenly he’s kissing me. His touch a brutal combination of pleasure, pain, A torture that could only be achieved through years of practice. Tears of panic and confusion trace down my cheeks.
“Shh,” he whispered, my eyes slid closed, but the tears continued to flow. I slowly opened them detecting he looked pleased, causing me to momentarily forget the situation I’m in. Swept up in the safety in his arms.
But I soon doubt the safety, instead I realize this was inevitable, when he turns my naked body away from him. Unstable casualty, as agony sent me plummeting into the darkness under his brutal touch.
“Master.” Peeking over my shoulder, I see him wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he takes two steps back unsteady as he relishes in the damage he had done. Admiring his work.
I hoped to survive it, I hoped to survive him.
I’m turned once again as I hear the roar of his zipper, as he reaches in for his hard length. It’s indecent, sinful. His cock dark red, angry. He slithers close, lifting my legs as I naturally wrap them around his waist. He pushes inside me with great force. “Fuck.” I open my eyes and he looked down at me, as another piercing stroke slammed back into my body.
Taking me to the edge of my greatest threat, the monster’s lack of humanity, which was a polar opposite of the man I knew. He destroyed my charred remains when he spilled his evil seed inside of me.
So hard, so brutal, he released my throbbing wrist, my arms, they were numb yet screaming in pain. How could I come out unscathed when he left behind scars both emotionally and physically?
His aftercare somehow the illusion of love, a sick perverse version as he carries me to bed and tends to my wounds. Tears and sobs muffled in my pillow as I let him pamper me. He delights in the taste of my pain.
“It’s impossible to be anyone other than what you see now.”
“Why?” Some distorted explanation as to why I was on the cold concrete kneeling before him, oblivious to the rage brewing inside the man I once thought I knew. How wrong I was. I didn’t understand. The monster was real, cruel, selfish and twisted, a pure animalistic hunger. Wisely I remain silent. He knew I would be his, possessing my body, my mind.
“I can’t stop.” He mutters. I need all of you to be mine and mine alone, in every way. Say it Grace, say the words my angel.”
In a gasp I obey “I’m yours, Master.”
I give up, I give in, I give myself to the mad man, the monster inside lurking beneath the man, hoping I could peel back the layers to the real man I’ve become accustomed too, the man I thought I could love.
The aftermath is just as unnerving when he collects several warm cloths and places them on my back. I feel cherished, comforted, and adored. Binding us, I give in to him and his fucked-up behavior. It was an eerie conclusion, the fact we both shared the mask, living our lives under the veil of an imposter. Merged together in some tormented twisted way.
Finally, he silently leaves. The life I’ve known now gone forever, I carefully leave the bed, stare at my reflection in the mirror, I’m unrecognizable. The shield, I search through the curtain of hair, I’m gone. Grace is gone.
I climb back into bed alone, my knees drawn up to my chest my long hair shielding my face buried on top of my knees. I feel numb, cold, empty.
The Inner soreness, the burn streaked across my back come rushing back, a flood of memories tormenting my soul, now ripped to pieces. I pray or hope he will get tired of me soon and toss me aside.
Finally, sleep finds me. But my dreams are filled with flashes of pleas for mercy that go unheard. Nightmares twist and turn into sordid details branded into every hidden corner of my subconscious.
I wake to a gentle knock on my door, all my senses on high alert, I answer promptly. “Coming.” Sharply aware of the presence on the other side. I wrap in my robe and slowly turn the handle. I’m met with Godfrey’s “Good morning.” And a tray filled with breakfast.
“May I?”
“Please.” Watching him set the tray down, oblivious to what has occurred, unaware of who or what really resides under this roof. My heart racing the dark echo reminding me of its reality of the situation I find myself in. Would he help me, could I trust him? Should I escape?
I was fooling myself, I had nowhere to go. My parents assume I’m tucked safely away being tutored by a brilliant Dr., a pillar of the community. How could I possibly explain? How can I go from being an innocent, quite nerdy loner to this man’s sex toy. The answer was, I couldn’t.
“Dr. Vane has instructed you to start on this.” Handing me a book. The hard cover worn by time, my fingers glide over the tattered cover and read, Charles James Fox. Greatest love story of the eighteenth century.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome Grace.” He leaves shutting the door behind him, I open the cover the pages yellowed and fragile. I find a note.
“You are all to me. You can always make me happy in circumstances apparently unpleasant and miserable…Indeed, my dearest angel, you are my happiness, my life depends on you.”
I read, feeling the circumstance mirroring my own. I shut the book to have breakfast, sitting at my desk I ponder its meaning. It gnaws at me. Was he preparing me, I feared we haven’t scratched the surface of what’s to come. The nerves reached my stomach and it turned taking my appetite with it. I push it aside and open the book.
“Elisabeth Armistead. There was no turning back, once her virtue was ruined she was taken in by some notorious procuresses. The striking woman had a stillness about her, a certain luminosity, that drew the attention of many admirers.”
The real-life story captures me, as the day flies by reading their tragic love story, their passionate ending was acutely familiar, and in the end, she survived.
I stood in silence at my arched window, the trees bursting into shades of orange and red, the sun catching a glimmer of gold, the day slipped by and it was now time to face him. I dressed for dinner, like always and was seated at the large table.
I was nervous seeing him and for good reason, he intentionally kept me at arm’s length all day, with the novel. I was anxious to discuss the book, it didn’t reflect everything inside of me, what were his comparisons? The lesson, was a mystery.
After a long thirty minutes, my professor was conspicuously absent from dinner. The kitchen door opens, I felt Godfreys gaze on me.
“The Master of the house is taking his meal in the library this evening. You will be dining alone.” Godfrey informs me, I’m relieved by the news. With any luck I can avoid him the entire evening, possible have a peaceful uninterrupted night’s sleep. Eating and then finishing my dinner at a furious pace anxious to leave and be done with this evening.
Sleep came and gone without interruption, and without tormenting nightmares. I dress, and find myself once again looking out the window, a free prisoner to a world I never belonged. It was fitting the sky was overcast with dark shades of blues and grays. I slowly make my way down stairs and walk straight into his study, where I find him drinking coffee and searching for something out the window, just as I had done.
“Sir?” He turns, his colbert eyes and raven hair perfectly groomed. His expression void of any real emotion, certainly not remorse. He gracefully sips his coffee upon the desk.
“Good morning Grace.” He says as the morning lights spills behind him like a halo. He’s acting as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened. “Sit.” He instructs “Please.”
His dark lure pulling me into the room where I sit across from him, the desk being the only thing between us.
“Why the book?” I find the topic an easy segway into what I really want to discuss. “Was there a secret meaning behind it?”
“Games?” he asked, “You think I play games?” He stands slithering around the desk. His gaze never leaving mine. I tell myself to take a calming breath. It takes a few to compose myself from a panic attack. He gently leans back resting on the desk in front of me. “Why don’t you ask me what you really want to know Grace?”
It’s clear he can see the fear in my eyes, unable to hide my true emotions after what has happened. “I can’t.” I answer. “I’m afraid.”
“Of course, you are angel.”
Dr. Vane lifts my hand, interlacing his fingers with mine, I try not to react, but churning inside me are many contradictory emotions.
“I’m driven by good and evil.” He begins. And even as I fear him, I yearn for the one part of him that holds me tight and says everything will be all right. “If you want me, you must embrace the darkness as well as the light.”
The monster who lives beneath the man, the dark side who lives on the edge of control. The side who feels joy when hurting me. My whole-body shudders, tears from yesterday appear as the memories come tumbling down, crashing and burning in twisted forms.
“You want to hurt me?”
“He does.”
“He?”
“Yes, angel. The darkness battles for control. I can’t stop him, I never could.”
I’m about to launch into a full-blown panic attack as his words are carved deeply in my soul. With brutal honesty he reveals the deepest part of himself. He wants to share every fantasy with me. Take me to places I’d never been, places he only dared to go.
Did I have a choice? A voice of my own?
“He will come for you, Angel.” He says dryly. “Tonight.”
“I can’t” I beg
“You must.” He stands his posture tense, focused as he rounds his desk and falls into his leather chair. “And the book Grace, it was because he loved her that he kept her.”
I glared at him with disbelief, pain didn’t belong to love. Yet it was deeply ingrained in him.
“And if I refuse?” Something powerful awoke in me as I stand now gazing down at him. Startled by the raging storm brewing in his eyes.
He snorts “You won’t.” I sense his darkness he may control, but it’s there, toxic and deadly. “You belong to me, Grace. I thought you understood that.”
“It’s nothing like I imagined.”
“That’s the point.” His handsome face and stubbled jaw never waver. “Give yourself over to me Grace.”
I left the room unraveled, the emptiness inside me coming to terms with the fact it’s a losing battle. I can’t help but wonder what awaits me tonight, my instincts on high alert as dinner comes and goes, refusing Godfrey’s attempts to bring up a tray. I lay in bed, the covers wrapped tightly as the clock ticks slowly. Midnight strikes and there it is, a gentle knock on the door. I don’t respond, there’s no need, he entered my room, lifted the covers and wrapped his fingers around my wrist, as he had done before.
I’m sick with fear, my heart pounds bursting to escape. Intensifying as we descended the stairs to the cold basement floor. Only this time I’m dragged into a room with a beautiful Victorian four poster bed.
“Face down angel.” As he ushers me to the bed, and pulls my nightgown over my head. My face flushed, pale. flooded with too many horrors, I do as he commands. I give myself to him as if I had a choice.
There’s only a sheet, but I’m thankful for it, recalling the cold concrete from our last encounter. I watch as he meticulously releases the buttons of his white dress shirt, his chest now bare, his muscles pronounced, visible to the naked eye, unlike the anger beneath the calm.
In the low light he pulls out silk ties from a closet and proceeds to bound me, starting with my wrist, working his way around me with poise and grace.
“You are my most cherished possession.” I’m reminded, as he leans over me, a knee causing the bed to dip. Unexpectedly his agile fingers finding my sex, my body betraying me as a charge of excitement begins to burn.
I push it away, desire has no place here. His intent to harm is now in the forefront of my mind. Yet, I feel it, his hunger sharp as he forces his will on me, breaching my every defense as his fingers are buried in my heat moving in and out at a lightening pace. My unwante
d climax comes in waves, as my feeble attempts to squirm away are useless.
Shame is coursing through my body, I blame myself. Judgement harsh and real as my guilty plea is only explained by my fractured feelings. I was being groomed, molded into someone who would obey his every command, endure it without complaint.
That is until reality jars me back to the present, and with it comes the thrashing of leather against my flesh. A second strike is sharper the pain resonating throughout every nerve, exploding as the next one meets the tender site of my thighs.
He was out of control standing proud at this throne, the chapel he owned twisted and demented. My heart beating furiously, forcing me to breach my limit. “Master, please.” I beg with whimpers, but the blinding hunger is oblivious to my protest. His self-control left behind, demanding more of me, despite my cries.
“Your pain, is my pain angel.” As the scars are driven upon my flesh. And my heart breaks, fragile, on the verge of madness, all goes quiet, as silent tears fall. I wait, unknowing what to expect.
“God forgive me.” He mutters as he unties me turns my boneless limbs over. He’s naked nudging my thighs apart, allowing his erection to cushion against my dampened thigh. With brutal strength he drove his cock into me, the whole weight of his body pressing upon me. His lips kiss my tears, licking them away as if they were his to own.
His mouth found mine, as well as the driving force of his hips. Deliberately filling me, stretching me, his hands find mine, now entangled like lovers. His consuming climax convulses with explosive force. “Yes angel, like that, you are mine.”
It was sexuality redefined.
It was pain and pleasure.
It was light and dark.
He could tame my body, but my body could not tame the beast.
Many weeks had passed but I’m uncertain of how many, although the new buds of spring hung from the trees branches. I had slipped into a rhythm, a new unsteady normal. I knew my place, he taught me where my place existed. I stayed where I belonged, by his side. The transition so slow and meticulous I barely recognized my transformation.
Hard as Steel: Book four ( Surviving Series ) Page 15