"You're doing so well, my dear. I'm not going to let any permanent harm come to you, I promise. Do you believe me?"
She knew deep down that he wouldn't let her die, so after a minute, she nodded.
"You can have some water tomorrow." She almost screamed but he must have sensed it because his hand, always caressing her cheek, moved to lightly cover her mouth.
"One more day. That's all. And in 12 hours, a little test. After tomorrow, you can have all the water you want."
She slept for a long time, curled up on the concrete floor with her head cradled in her arm. When she awoke, it was to the same silence and darkness. She tried to think about James and the few days they'd had together, but it was all jumbled in her mind.
She finally heard the whisper that always preceded her master's touch.
"Twelve hours to go, my dear. I imagine your thirst must be intense by now." She nodded. "Here's the first little test of your obedience. I'm putting a tall glass of water over in the corner. I want you to ignore it until I tell you to drink it. Only 12 more hours. I know you can do it."
He stroked her cheek once more and was gone.
She cried silently in the darkness at the unfairness of it all. She tried to sleep, but her mind couldn't rest from its fixation on the unseen glass in the opposite corner. Was it real? He didn't say she couldn't touch it. She felt her way down one wall and then the next one. Her hand bumped into something hard that sloshed.
It was real. Oh, gods there was water right there. She tried to make herself move away, to think of something else, but the more she tried that the worse the craving became.
She didn't know how the glass got in her hands, but suddenly she was drinking the coolest, sweetest water in her entire life. She gulped it down, terrified that it would be torn out of her hands any moment, but she got to the bottom and nothing happened. She set the glass down, unsure, already regretting her actions.
She sensed a presence in front of her, and it grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet. This was not her master. She was propelled back over to the wall and her back was pushed hard against the concrete. It was too much and she cried out for the first time, almost startled by the sound of her voice, begging, pleading, apologizing, struggling, but the voiceless presence merely secured her arms and legs to the shackles once more and left her. She cried loudly now, not caring, as she felt the room temperature begin to drop...
Waiting
"Two weeks? Are you fucking kidding me?"
The official looked at James skeptically. "Two weeks to verify your identity, your credit, your background, and enough time for you to regret your actions and change your mind. Why are you in such a hurry to become a citizen, anyway?"
Raym reached into his pocket and pulled out a large wad of cash, something rarely seen and highly valued for its un-traceability. He peeled off several large denomination bills and placed them in front of the man's wide eyes. "Love."
The man scooped the bills up and shoved them in his pocket. "Ten days. That's the fastest it can be done, even for love."
Time had ceased for her. She made it through the cold again, then the warmth, then the concrete floor, always comforted by her master when she succeeded. Knowing the water was in the corner this time was tough but she dug her nails into her palms until they bled and the pain took her mind off of it. When her master finally placed the glass to her lips, she was absurdly grateful. He promised water would be brought every couple of hours from now on, as long as she obeyed. She nodded furiously and kissed his hand over and over.
Now he bound her hands behind her back. "Ready to work for some food?" She nodded again. "I want you to take some pain for me." She shuddered. "Each time you take it without making any noise, you get a little bit of food. At first, it will be very plain, but as you show me your gratitude, the food will improve. If you can't stay quiet, I'll leave for a while, and then we'll try again. Please present your bottom."
She scrambled to obey, her bound hands making it awkward to get to her knees, but she placed her cheek on the concrete and raised up the highest that she could.
She was barely in position when the sting of a whip sent a shocking pain into her ass. She fell over and screeched at the unexpected intensity of it. She didn't have to see to know he'd disappeared.
The next time, she was mentally prepared, and made it through the five lashes. She heard a dish placed in front of her. She bent over and sniffed and wrinkled her nose at the strange smell. It seemed there was a little of everything in this bowl. She took a taste and spit out the strange-tasting mash of meat and vegetables as her stomach revolted. She backed into a corner and sat, remembering what she ate in Didi's kitchen every night. It wasn't fancy, but Didi was a wonderful cook. She longed to be back there, in the peace and quiet and camaraderie of her sister slaves. She was loved there.
It was clear after a while that Master wasn't going to come back until she ate, and anyway she was starving. She pushed her nausea down and ate the wet greasy mess as fast as she could, and slurped water until she couldn't taste it anymore.
She made it through most of the pain sessions; she'd always eroticized pain, and while there was no arousal in sight here, she used her mental tricks to find endurance. She failed once when he whipped her breasts, earning her another meal of greasy mash in a bowl thrown on the floor by Rillo, but when she succeeded, Master praised her and held her and told her how much he cared for her. She lived for that praise, and making him happy became almost more important than anything else.
The passage of time was irrelevant. There was only this. It always had been, and it always would be. She wondered during brief moments when the end of her trials would come and what she would have to do to get there, but those moments were sporadic. She thought about her few days with James, but his face was fading in her memory. Master was much more real to her now. Making him happy made her happy, and content. That was important.
After nine sessions of pain with a food reward, she was eating unflavored oatmeal with delight. She was grateful to him for feeding her such good food.
As he held her and she curled into his arms, he asked if she would like to have her arms unbound. She nodded eagerly. They had hurt unbearably at first, but had subsided into a constant, dull ache for a while now. He released the clip that held them together, and slowly brought them forward, rubbing them tenderly until she could move them herself.
"Would you like to get cleaned up?" She hadn't even thought about what she looked like for a while now. She didn't know how long she'd been here without bathing or washing her hair or brushing her teeth. She realized her hair had probably gotten into the food she'd bent over to eat, and her breath must be atrocious. She picked up his hand and said a silent "yes!" into the palm, then kissed it.
"I'll send Bena in to help you wash. She can't talk to you, though, yet. After she's done, your next task is that I want you to kneel for me, arms straight out and face to the floor. Concentrate on my face, for twelve hours. If you sleep or move, that time won't count."
She nodded and he left. She didn't know if it was time to start kneeling yet, but the longer she knelt the happier he would be with her, so she got into position. She'd been there not long when she felt a presence in front of her. A delicate hand touched her shoulder, and Bena's perfume filled her senses. She felt a cloth with warm water start to wipe her down. It felt as though each swipe of the cloth removed a layer of fear, and doubt, and unsettled memories of another time that she longed to be rid of. Each cool, clean limb felt freed from the past. There was only the future, now, and her master would keep her at his side and care for her, forever.
Bena took her time and washed every bit of Lydia, gently moving her one way then another until Lydia was clean. Then she leaned over a bucket while Bena washed her hair. Lydia sat back after toweling it dry with a smile on her face, content, as Bena finished braiding it.
She felt Bena place her cheek against her own, and she turned to kiss it in thanks, but Bena he
ld her head still.
"James waits for you." The almost inaudible whisper sent a lightning bolt through Lydia. Her breath grew ragged and she trembled. Bena held her tight.
"Why?" Lydia whispered back. Why would Bena risk severe punishment to tell her this?
"I have known the love of my master. Every woman deserves that."
Lydia's calmness vanished in one heartbeat. Her thoughts, no longer serene, tore from their moorings, suddenly clashing and swirling as though a typhoon had been set loose in her mind. She barely felt Bena guide her into a kneeling position, pushing her down until her head touched the floor, arranging the damp braided hair over one shoulder, and moving her arms straight out. She was grateful for that, because she probably couldn't have done it herself.
A flood of memories came rushing back. James holding her arm so she could walk beside him. Sitting on the ground with her. Laughing at a joke together. Taking her roughly in the ass.
Knowing she could read Br'ini, and not telling anyone.
Kissing her deeply.
Seeing her as an intelligent woman.
She scarcely moved for the twelve hours. She concentrated as hard as she could, but not on her master's face. It was James' face she saw as clear as if he'd been sitting in front of her. She relived every moment they'd had together. She concentrated on the sights, the sounds, and the smells they'd shared. Each time a muscle would cramp she'd reach for another memory to get her through the pain. Only once did she permit herself to move to get water. She fell asleep at some point and dreamed of him reaching for her, telling her to hold on. Though she woke regretting the time lost to sleep, she felt his presence even more deeply now.
When Master came in again, she felt a calmness she'd not felt since arriving in this darkness. She leaned into his caress, but now it was an act.
"That was amazing, my dear. We've almost reached the end. Are you ready to be returned to the ones who love you, and demonstrate your obedience?"
Yes, she nodded. As long as it's James. At least she had the privacy of her thoughts, even if everything else had been ripped away from her.
"I'm going to have you start talking again. There are only two things I want you to say. The first is 'Thank you, Master.' Go ahead, try it out."
How long since she'd spoken? She had no concept of time. But James waited for her – that was all that mattered. She opened her mouth and only a croak came out. She cleared her throat. "Th-thank you, Master." It came out as a scratchy whisper.
"Good! Now, 'I love you, Master.' "
"I love you, Master." A little better.
"Good. Your voice will get back to normal pretty quick. But for now, that's all you say, understand?"
She nodded.
"Here's the last task. You'll repeat each phrase, pronouncing it completely and carefully, not rushing, and meditating on it as you do. You'll do it for ten hours, kneeling on the floor like you've been doing. Like before, if you stop for any reason, that time doesn't count. Each time you repeat the phrase, think of how much I care for you and how grateful you are for the home you have here. The lights will be coming back on as you do this, symbolizing your return to life."
"Thank you, Master."
He patted her head and left. She slid to her knees and began repeating the phrases she'd been told to say over and over, but instead of her master's face she saw James, and it was to him that she repeated her devotion over and over as light began to creep into the room.
James looked up from his computer. "Duruma sent me a very stiffly worded reply. He's agreed to see me again, and states he will be able to show me first hand that Lydia is happy where she is. He hopes I'll accept the invitation with the understanding that this is the last time I'll see her, and that I'll agree to leave peacefully once I've spoken with her."
"She's done with the re-imprinting then. James, she isn't going to respond to you like she did before. She will probably not even acknowledge you. Her master will be her only focus now."
"I have to see that. If she shows no signs of wanting to be with me, I'll leave. But if she does..." He left the thought unfinished, but Raym couldn't.
"You'll what? Duruma won't sell her. That's final. End of story. There is no happy ending for this, James. It's probably better if she doesn't even remember you. She has the rest of her life to live, long after you're gone, and pining for you will just make her miserable."
Raym's words hit him in the gut. Though he wanted to lash out in anger, maybe Raym was correct. Better that she not remember what she couldn't have.
James knew he'd never forget her, though.
Duruma greeted them formally and invited them to sit. Once more, pleasantries were exchanged. James made himself respond, replying to the questions about how he'd met Raym, and what his plans for the future were, while his stomach churned and his brain screamed at him to talk about Lydia. Eventually the conversation reached a pause, and James made his move.
"Sir, I'd like to show you some things." He pulled out a sheaf of papers. "I'm legally a citizen of Midros now. I have a job with Raym's company, and I've bought a small house about a mile from here. I plan to stay, sir. And I have enough money from an investment I've made to make you a fair offer for her." He handed the papers over. "As for the other issue you had, well, you were right. I've never owned a slave before and I behaved poorly with her, giving her choices and freedoms she isn't equipped to handle. Raym and I have had a number of conversations about slaves and what's best for them. I'd welcome your guidance in this matter as well. I'm hoping you will reconsider selling her to me." He'd rehearsed those words so often it almost sounded like he believed them.
Duruma spent several minutes perusing the papers before shuffling them together and handing them back. "Young man, you think me heartless. I do know what it is to love someone deeply." He motioned to the older woman who had served them cassa and was now standing near the wall. She moved to his side and he placed his arm around her waist. "This is Bena, my First Slave. We've been together for twenty-five years, and I love her as much as I did the day I bought her." He squeezed her hand and let her go. She returned to the wall. "I didn't put Lydia through re-imprinting because I wanted to punish her or torture her. I want her to be happy with her life. And what you did upset that happiness. What I did was to make sure she doesn't spend the rest of her life longing for something she can't have. Now she'll see me as the focus of her happiness again, as it should be."
"Until you decide to sell her?" James knew he wasn't helping his situation but he was losing control of emotions tightly gripped for too long.
"You off-worlders are so quick to judge! My commitment to my slaves is as strong as their commitment to me. I would never sell one who is imprinted to me. She'd be unable to function anywhere else. She would most likely waste away with longing. Even if she were with you. I'm sorry. But it's too late."
A little something in James died. There was no point to all this. He nodded, a quick, short acknowledgment of defeat. "I appreciate, sir, that you'll let me say goodbye to her, then."
The broad man nodded. He looked over at Bena, who hurried out of the room. "She's just come out of re-imprinting this morning. She'll be very quiet. It's normal until she gets used to the world again."
The men all sat in uncomfortable silence until the door opened again. James stood up. Lydia entered and his heart jumped. She was pale and thin, dressed in a simple white dress that clung to her form. Her hair was braided down her back. She stared at her master for a long moment then walked towards him, her eyes never breaking away from his gaze. Even James could see there was no one else in the room as far as she was concerned.
She knelt at Duruma's feet, her gaze now on the floor, her head bowed in complete submission.
"Lydia?" Duruma's voice was soft and unexpectedly tender. "There's someone here to see you and say goodbye."
She looked up at her master as though she didn't understand what he was saying, and then finally looked over towards James. She squinted
as though she was trying to place him, then closed her eyes and shook her head, and returned to her submissive bow.
The air rushed out of James' chest. She no longer knew him. Lydia – the Lydia he'd loved – was gone, and coming here had been a really bad idea. He needed to leave, now.
Duruma was looking at him expectantly. He nodded curtly to the man and turned to go. But he had to tell her something, even if what he said would mean nothing to her anymore.
"Lydia, I want you to know that I will never forget you." The words hung in the silent air and then vanished, and James followed Raym to the door.
Reunited
When Master had finally opened the concrete cell and led Lydia up the stone stairs a while ago, she'd been shocked to discover it was early morning. Night and day had been abstract concepts to her while she'd been down in that small room, but for some reason she assumed it would be the end of the day when she ended her trials.
The sunlight streaming through the windows was shockingly bright; the sensory deprivation of the quiet dark cell made everything in the normal world too big, too bright, too loud. The smell of burnt toast assaulted her senses and her stomach threatened to rise up into her throat. She heard Didi berating Frini for burning the toast, and though it was hardly louder than a normal conversation, the noise bounced around in her head. Lydia heard someone shushing Didi, reminding her that they were supposed to stay quiet right now.
Master kissed her cheek. "Welcome back, my dear. Everything will overwhelm you for just a day or two. Sleep for as long as you need, and come downstairs when you're ready." She nodded, her eyes still closed against the sunlight. Bena's arms wrapped around her shoulders and she guided Lydia up the stairs to the quiet sanctuary of her small room.
Memories of Surrender (Midrosian Chronicles Book 1) Page 15