by Simone Leigh
“Master?”
“I’ve been reading the reports on those ‘scandals’ about the home…”
I freeze in his arms.
“…. That day, when you and I first met, when I bought you, were you really a virgin?”
And the tension drains from me…. I twist in his arms to face him.
“Yes Master, I was. You were my first, truly.”
His face floods with relief, but also, puzzlement. “But… how? I’ve read those reports.”
What do I say?
Tell the truth….
But my words die stillborn, unformed.
Tell him.
My voice faltering, I try to get something out, to give him a reply. “I didn’t look like this then, Master. I was just a skinny, ginger kid.”
My throat seizes up, and my Master, looking at me, eyes soft, simply holds me tight. He knows I’ve not told him everything.
Tell him.
“I’m surprised you didn’t run away.” he says.
Forcing out every word, “I did, several times. The first time, I was eight, but there were others. Every time, I got caught, and the police took me back.”
My throat tightens again. “The beatings got harder each time. The last one put me in the infirmary. When the social worker came by, they said I’d been drinking and had fallen down the stairs.”
He rocks me to and fro. “You’re safe now.”
Am I?
“You want to go?” he asks.
“In a while.”
I don’t know what I want. I wander up and down, kicking stones, hugging myself. My Master watches me calmly, unspeaking.
There is a girl, standing off the roadway, by the rubble and ruin, scantily dressed in cheap finery. Her skirt is very short, her top, too low-cut to be subtle. She walks up and down the same ten yards, over and again, posing as cars come past.
As I watch, a car pulls up and a man leans out. The two talk quietly for a moment, then she gets into the car and they drive off.
As I turn away, I see that my Master has been watching me, his expression unreadable.
“Something bothering you?”
“What’s the difference, Master?”
“Difference?”
“When it comes down to it, what is the difference between what she is doing, and what I did?”
He looks down at me, eyes askance. “The difference, Charlotte, is that she has a return ticket. In an hour or so, she’ll be back on that road corner, touting for business. You bought yourself a one-way passage out of here. And…. that passage brought you to me. When you did, finally, return here, it was on your own terms, and by your own choice.”
I don’t know how to express myself. Something inside me needs to break out.
“He called me a gutter rat.”
“He was wrong.” replies my Master, calmly.
I wave over the rubble. “This is where I came from.”
“There’s no shame in coming from the gutter. Only in wanting to stay there. And you have your eyes fixed on the stars. Besides, this is not where you came from. You came from somewhere else. You were simply trapped here while you were a child. Do you know anything about your parents?”
I shake my head.
“You remember them at all?”
“No.”
There is a shout. “Hey, Jenny! Jennifer Conners….”
I don’t want to look, but the shouting continues.
“Hey, Jenny, over here.”
A figure comes running up, panting. He is perhaps my age, but small for that age, wearing cheap, worn out clothes. His face has that pinched look that often accompanies poverty, and his skin is aging early; dry, grey, wrinkling.
As he comes close, he stops, looking apologetic. “Oh! Sorry. My mistake, Lady. Thought you were someone else.”
“That’s alright.” I say.
He shrugs and walks away.
My Master’s face is unreadable. “Someone you know?”
“Jenny once knew him. I’m Charlotte.”
_________________________________
Back at the office, Haswell calls me in. “You too please, James.”
“Did you enjoy your trip out?” he asks, as Francis serves us coffee.
“It was very interesting. It…. gave me a lot to think about.”
“Charlotte, there is something else I would like to ask you, and…” Haswell swipes a hand through his hair, “…please take this question as it is intended, not as it might come out sounding.”
“Sir?”
“Is there anything else I need to know about you? I am running a multi-billion-dollar corporation here and, if we accept you as a trainee, you,” he points a long finger at me, “will be representing it. You will be one of our ambassadors. Do you have any more surprises to spring on me? I don’t want to learn of anything else after this, that might make my life difficult.”
Freezing over, I droop my head.
Breathe…. Breathe….
“Charlotte! What’s the matter? You’ve gone white as a sheet.” My Master’s voice is sharp.
“Charlotte?” Haswell sits back in his chair, hands folded, watching me carefully. “What is it? Whatever it is, now is the time to tell me.”
I try to speak, but my mouth is dry. I gulp down a mouthful of the coffee.
My voice is small. I can hardly speak the words. “I killed a man.”
The Virgi n’s Summer
Part Four
A Continuing Tale of
(Ex-)Virgin Erotica, BDSM and Ménage
with Two Masters and More……
Part Sixteen Of
The ‘Buying the Virgin’ Series
Author: Simone Leigh
The Virgin’s Summer
Part Four
My voice is small. I can hardly speak the words. “I killed a man.”
My Master stands abruptly, rising upright from his chair, which scrapes backward, abrasively.
Richard remains unmoved, simply glancing up at my Master. “Go on.”
Breathe….
“I was fourteen. It was at the home. There was a man… As the girls got older, and sometimes the boys…. they would take them away….”
My throat seizes up. Unspeaking, Richard pours a tumbler of water, pushing it across the table to me. I gulp it down, straining for air.
“He took me out, tried to get me into his car. He was telling me that I was being taken to a party where…. He was enjoying telling me what they were going to do to me. He had a knife, holding it at my throat to get me into the car. He said that when we got to the party, they were going to pass me around, and if I didn’t do as I was told, he was going to… to fuck me with the knife, and enjoy doing it……”
I am panting hard, struggling with my words, as the nightmare replays in my head.
“…. But I struggled and got the knife from him. I stabbed him, and I ran. I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do. I just ran and kept running. When they caught me again, a few days later, they said he was dead.”
Richard’s face is expressionless. “And after that?”
“They kept me by myself for a while; not in the dorm with the other girls. I’m not sure how long it was. It was dark all the time…”
“They put you in solitary confinement, in the dark?”
I nod, gulping, but my words are unstoppable now. Locked away for so many years, they tumble out. “Yes. There were cellars in the home. They used them as punishment rooms for us. Later, they said I was being sent away, to somewhere else. They didn’t say where, but it was the farm, where my foster family are now.”
“And you were treated well there?”
“Yes, they’re good people. I was safe. And there were animals; dogs, horses, chickens. I could do what I wanted; ride the horses, walk. And the school was great. I didn’t get on well with the family though. I think they found me a bit much to handle. I was pretty wild by then…. “
My Master interrupts. “Charlotte, you told me yo
u had been married….” Richard looks at him with a startled glance. “…. an unconsummated marriage… was that true?”
“Yes, it was all true. I’ve never lied to you about anything. There were just things that…. I couldn’t….”
I trail away…. my supply of words exhausted.
Richard looks at me under lidded eyes. “And in all that time, no-one queried you about the death of this man?”
I almost whisper. “No. And I never dared ask.”
“What was his name?”
“We just knew him as Supervisor Jenkins.”
“And this all happened, when?”
I count backward. “Er… about nine years ago.”
“And you’ve told no-one about this since then?”
I shake my head.
My Master is staring at me. “Charlotte, why not? Didn’t you feel you could tell me? Didn’t you trust me enough? Or Michael?”
“Oh, I do trust you. I do. Both of you.… but…. But.… I tried, but the words wouldn’t come out. And it was sort of locked away in my head. I never thought about it if I could. Not until I saw that model of the City, and what was happening in my old neighbourhood… then it all started coming back….”
I stand up, gathering my nerves, still trying to control my breathing. Head held high, my chest heaving, I lock eyes with Haswell. “So, what happens now? Have I made myself too much of a nuisance at last? You want me to get my stuff and go?”
He regards me, over steepled fingers.
“No. I want you to call Michael, and go with him. I need to talk with James here, make some phone calls.”
He addresses my Master. “You’ve been staying at the Beach House?”
“Yes.”
“Get Michael to take her back there. I want to be able to say that I know where she is.”
My Master nods, silently, then calls Michael, talking to him urgently but quietly. Strain as I might, I cannot pick out their words.
Waiting for Michael to arrive, I sit sipping water. Haswell says nothing, simply tapping at his keyboard, reading his screen, occasionally glancing over at me.
My Master paces up and down, not speaking.
I speak quietly, trying to speak only to him. “Master, I’m sorry. I tried to tell you when you asked me at the site, but…. I couldn’t …. I just couldn’t….”
Haswell clearly does hear me, but aside from a quick glance my way, says nothing, I think trying to give us a privacy we cannot have.
My Master’s face twists between compassion, anger, and frustration. “You picked a hell of a way to break your silence, Charlotte.”
I stare at the floor, sipping my water, waiting…
There is a knock, and the door bursts open. It is Michael. He strides straight up to me, scoops me up under the arms, and lifts me into his embrace, rocking me back and forth, face pressed to mine.
Michael’s sympathy is finally too much for me, and I burst into tears.
“Get her out of here.” says my Master. “Take her to the Beach House. I’ll be in touch later.”
Michael nods acknowledgment and, taking my hand, leads me to the door.
As we are about to exit the office, my Master says, “Charlotte, don’t run.”
I bite back a sob. “I won’t. Whatever happens now, I just want it to happen. I want my life back.”
___________________
Driving, Michael doesn’t say much, simply glancing at me occasionally, stroking my leg when he has a free hand.
Back at the house, I sit, staring out to sea. Michael puts food in front of me. I don’t eat it, my stomach roiling.
That night, my sleep is haunted, broken by nightmares.
Run….
Run…. Where?
Anywhere…. Just run….
Look back…. Is he there….? Run.…
Faces. The crowd. The tumult of the City. Thousands of faces, all around me…. all strangers...
Run….
Dodge the traffic. Car horns blaring. Taxi drivers, screaming abuse at me…
Keep running….
The knife!
Oh God! I’ve still got the knife…
My hand… blood…. the blade, bright, sharp…
Dripping…
Run…….
“Charlotte…. Charlotte!”
I wake, panting, sweating. There is a face over me in the dark, shaking me at the shoulders, and I cringe back.
It is Michael, jolting me out of my dreams. I see the hurt, the bewilderment, in his eyes, as I shrink from him.
Then, wrapping his arms around me, he rocks me back to sleep.
__________________________
The following day, he phones my Master. “I’d like to take Charlotte out, up into the mountains. I think a change of air will be good for her. I’ll bring her back here afterward. Tis that going to cause any problems? Fine… Yes, I will…”
He takes my hand. “Let’s go and relax, eh.”
__________________________
We walk, Michael holding my hand, along a wild track, high in the mountains. Rambling between forest, and green meadows which slope down to the lake, just being here is a balm to my black mood. And Michael, with his unconditional support, and lack of pressure, is soothing company.
We sit on an old stump. Michael pours me coffee from a flask, which I accept, then offers me a sandwich, which I do not.
“Thanks, I’m not hungry.”
“Charlotte, you’ve got to eat, or you’re no good to anyone, least of all yourself.” He presses the food onto me. Reluctantly I take it, fighting my churning stomach, to choke down small bites.
Nonetheless, the walk calms me. Clouds scud across the sky, casting light and shade across the meadows. The lake sparkles in the sunshine, the waters rippling with a shimmering light in the brisk breeze. Breathing deeply, the early Autumn mountain air tastes good; of pine and snow.
“It’s real soul food, this place, isn’t it?” says Michael, lacing his fingers into mine.
I nod. Then, trying to find something pleasant to talk about, “Is this where we came before? To the cabin? It looks familiar, but not quite.”
“Yes, it looks different from here, because the lake dog-legs around the mountain over there.” he says, waving down to where the waters disappear from view around the hillside. “We’re looking at it from a different angle. The cabins and the hotel are just over there….” He waves back through the trees. Craning around, I can just see buildings through the trees.
“It’s a bit ramshackle looking. I don’t remember it looking like that.”
“No, we’re round the back side of it. I think they ran out of money for their renovations. They don’t get so many tourists up here, the last few years, after The Crash.”
We munch sandwiches in silence for a while, then he says, “Charlotte. I can’t begin to guess what’s going through your head right now. You must feel that all your worst dreams have returned to haunt you, but understand this: if your worst fears were to come true, and I don’t believe they will, but if they did… I will be here for you. I won’t go anywhere. You will never not have a future. Do you understand me?”
I fight back tears, and the tightness in my throat, nodding.
He continues. “And if it’s a case of needing lawyers, James and I, between us, can afford the best…. you’re not on your own in this.”
“Are you angry with me?”
He stalls. “Charlotte, I can’t deny that I’d have been happier if you had spoken sooner, or in other circumstances, but I do understand that there were reasons…. and however inconvenient James may find this, it has an upside.”
“Which is...?”
“Haswell has a lot of friends, or at least, a lot of people who owe him. If he’s helping you, you couldn’t have a better ally.”
My voice small. “Do you want your ring back?”
“No.”
“I thought maybe you wouldn’t want….”
“No. And that’s the end of
it.” There is a finality to his voice.
I chew my food endlessly, trying to swallow. In the end, I put the sandwich down, hoping that Michael doesn’t notice.
I ponder his words. “You said, ‘You and James can afford…?’ I thought….”
“You thought…. what? He’s the one with all the money?”
“Um, yes.”
“I’m not without. He just talks about it more than I do.”
“Oh… I didn’t realise.”
“Well, you never asked. In fact, I’ll admit that your complete lack of interest in money, apart from the pressing problem of paying for your college fees, is quite refreshing. If more women were like that, I might not have lived the happy life of the bachelor free for so long…”
“I don’t like taking money from you. It feels like…”
He looks at me from the side of his eyes. “Charlotte, we’re getting married. You’re entitled to take money from me.”
I digest this. “You’ve had women after you for your money?”
“There’s been a few.” He grins at me.
The grin is infectious. “Er, one of them wouldn’t have been Marcie by any chance?”
He laughs. “And she hits the Gold! Yes, Marcie took a shot at me. That was before Steve of course…. and quite a few others for that matter….” He shudders. “Oh, my God, it doesn’t bear thinking about. Marcie, man’s living nightmare. It makes me itch just thinking about her.” He squeezes my shoulders, still laughing.
“I felt just like that, about that Steve of hers, but you’d better be careful. With Steve knocked out of the running, she might be after you again.”
He snorts. “Charlotte, not if she were the last woman on Earth, would I stick my cock inside Marcie.” He shudders as he chuckles.
I laugh, and he smiles at me, tracing my face with his fingers. “It’s good to see you smile.” I lean into his touch as he strokes my face, and he wraps an arm around my shoulders.
A breeze springs up and I goose-pimple. Michael feels me shiver. “Want to walk again? Warm up a bit? Perhaps down to the lake?”