The Sect

  “I have nothing to compare you to,” I stated hoarsely, my voice softer than his. “I just know I’ve never felt anything like I do when I’m with you and I might not again.”

  He blinked and looked very displeased with my response. “Are you putting on a fucking show? Because you can stop now. She can’t hear you.” I lost his eye contact as he removed my arms from around him and untied them.

  Mrs. Sherman’s clapping startled us both. “Well done. I really enjoy seeing you two together. That might be a problem for me, seeing as though it’s the last time I’ll see you both.”

  “It’s never a problem, Mrs. Sherman,” Noah assured her, no longer able to look at her. “We never know what will happen in the future, right?”

  Concern crossed her face as she reached up and touched the side of his neck. A wistful smile pressed across her lips as she bobbed her head once. “Well…I’ll certainly miss you both. A favor returned for a favor earned. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have last minute preparations to make for my flight out tomorrow.” Before disappearing into the bedroom, she said to me, “You may use my bathroom before you leave.”

  Noah seemed to have an issue with allowing me to go inside the bathroom by myself to clean up. He pushed the tails of his shirt back into his slacks and warned me against doing anything stupid. I watched the door close shut behind him before I made a move.

  In the bathroom, I looked in the mirror, seeing a face familiar to me but wondering what happened to her—the girl who had the fight in her when she came here. I closed my eyes as the tears fell, thinking maybe I never was that woman because with every problem I ever had, I was never able to face it head on. “Never make a scene, be demure and smile no matter how you feel inside,” said my mother on my many occasions. If I had to be demure to get away, then that was what I’d do. I waited until I could hear Mrs. Sherman’s voice before I exited the bathroom to meet her in the living area.

  She gave me a smile and chucked me on the shoulder. “Thank you. That was beautiful. You can leave now.”

  “You have to help me,” I pleaded with her. “Can you please take me with you when you leave tomorrow? I’m here against my will. Most of us are. My name is Keaton—”

  She covered my mouth and the genialness in her eyes disappeared. “That’s not my problem, kid. I’m pretty sure you weren’t supposed to tell me those things. This is supposed to be paradise and about my fantasy for absolution after all.” She rolled her eyes, making fun of the thought. “No one here cares about what’s behind the curtain.” She shrugged as she dropped her hand from my mouth and retrieved her suit jacket from the back of the overstuffed chair. She smiled at me, caring very little about how stupefied I was. “It’s a beautiful place and you seem well-taken care of. Be patient with all of it and you’ll be fine. If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to turn in early.”

  Abject sadness hit me in the pit of my stomach making me double over. I glanced at the now very operational camera. The position had changed and recorded it all. The moment I stepped out the door, the sight of Noah leaned up against the banister on the porch startled me. He removed his hand from the earpiece in his ear to glower at me. He clucked his tongue as he shook his head. “You failed the test, princess. I warned you. Reven warned you. Everyone warned you, but you just don’t give up.” He spun to face me and blocking me against the exterior wall of the house. “Do you know what’s going to happen to you now?”

  My lip trembled so severely I couldn’t speak.

  “You think you’ve been broken, you haven’t. And guess who’s the lucky guy who gets to do it?” With a sneer he answered, “Me.”

  “No,” I sobbed.

  Showing no empathy or semblance of affection, he grabbed me by the hair. Dragging me to follow him, he easily overcame my struggling and screaming.

  I LOST count of the amount of sunsets it took me to recover. I remained face down in the bed for so long it molded to the form of my body. Long after I’d healed, my punishment continued. I faced confinement in my room, isolated from the others. Marcia was the only one permitted to see me. While I had faced what I thought was his most brutal punishment before, I was proven wrong.

  I didn’t want to ache for the man whose touch when wielding a whip was far from gentle. The last time he punished me wasn’t like the time before; he knew how to make me feel it. He would bring me to the edge of an orgasm and flog me with the whip we made together, allowing the rope to cut my skin superficially.

  Noah’s skill with the tools to break me down became my greatest fears.

  No matter how I wished it, or held onto the positive, my thoughts clung to the negative. I had no semblance of a friend in this place, but him. It was a toxic, one-sided friendship that I shouldn’t have grown to need, but I couldn’t help myself.

  There was very little to do but bathe and contemplate my thoughts. Occasionally, I would skim through the Rebirth Doctrine. It wasn’t anything new. Bodies should be sacrificed for sex and violence. The sacrifice is considered the ultimate act of ascension. The lost souls of Rebirth are responsible for one thing, submitting to the whims of those more troubled and more important in the world than they were due to their status.

  I’d had enough of the skewed doctrine and eventually threw it against the wall.

  Even with a beautiful view of the forest, and the occasional bright cheeriness of the sun that poured into my room, my mood didn’t shift. The quiet spaces made the memories return. Happier memories were silenced for nightmares and twisted fantasies. The inexperienced woman who was broken, but not destroyed, became the one thing I fought against. There was very little left to fight.

  I sat on the bed for hours, counting the panels of wood on the floor at least four dozen times. Night fell upon the room with the moonlight illuminating the space. When the door latched, I barely lifted my head.

  It was Marcia wheeling a silver cart with a plate covered in an ornate cloche cover. Without a word, she locked the front door and stepped to the windows, opening them when I’d thought they were nailed shut. A nice breeze that felt and smelled like Spring danced across my legs.

  Marcia was methodic as she pulled out the round table from the corner of the room and began to dress it. She placed two tapers on the table and lit them. A bright white tablecloth was spread across the wood and silver place settings were placed in perfect order on top of the table. Two wine glasses were placed on either side of the plates and filled with ice water.

  She finally regarded me on her way out. “Reven will be here in five minutes,” she said quickly and quietly. “If I were you, and wanted to keep him in a good mood, I would get into prayer position and not speak or look at him until directed.” She looked quickly to the camera before departing.

  It had taken several minutes before I had another visitor. The moment the door latched, I dropped to my knees with my head bowed and my hands in prayer position across my lap. I blinked, stuck between wonder and awe that my body responded before I consciously thought to follow the cook’s advice.

  His steps were delayed and slow, unlike the racing of my heart thumping loudly and chaotically.

  “Did you find what you were searching for during your days of isolation?” Reven asked.

  My tongue became glued to the roof of my mouth; I had no idea what to say.

  “I’m addressing you. Answer my question.”

  “I was—”

  “Speak up. If you’re going to lie to me at least be proud of it.”

  I looked back at the open window and to his Italian leather shoes, confusion flooding my mind and preventing my ability to say anything. The mental manipulation I feared would happen, had. And I wasn’t sure when it began. Because, my head touched the foot of his shoes while my arms remained behind my back. The tears fell, dripping down the shiny leather of his shoes. “I’m sorry,” I sobbed.

  His hand was in my hair, forcing my neck back. He wasn’t amused at all. “You’re too smart for your own wellbeing, Keaton. Had that been ge
nuine, I might’ve been pleased.”

  “Why is it never good enough?” I asked.

  He blinked slowly for a moment. “You really believe you’ve done anything to please me? Anything that would warrant better treatment over anyone here?”

  “I just gave you my submission. Isn’t that all The Doctrine is about? Me and the people like me in this house submitting to the whims of you and the people in the theater? We’re all throwaways, unimportant. We’re sex toys and punching bags who walk and talk.”

  “You…gave me?” he drew out the words dramatically annunciating every consonant. His hands tugged my hair up, forcing me to stand. “You never gave me anything. I provided you with things you barely deserved. Don’t ever speak to me as though your presence or what’s between your thighs is a gift to me.” He thrust me back, forcing me to fall to the floor. “Go to the armoire and grab the first belt you find.”

  My confusion made me delay.

  For the first time, he raised his voice at me. “Do what you’re told to do!”

  Nodding, I stepped over to the armoire, opening the drawers in the room that I’d never touched before. I wasn’t faced with belts; instead, I was faced with neatly hung thick leather loops. Some were as thick as two inches; none were the normal width of a belt. Sobbing in disappointment, I grabbed the smallest one I could find. Keeping my head bowed, I offered it to him. He took it tentatively.

  Swallowing back the sobs, I bent over the bed with my hands on the mattress, emulating the position I was forced to be in on the sawhorse.

  The belt was abruptly tossed on the bed. “Come, before dinner gets cold.”

  Confused, I stood up, only to be faced with Reven’s back as he sauntered toward the table. When I stepped to the table, he pulled out a chair for me, befuddling me further. I watched as he revealed a feast of fresh lobster and fresh vegetables. “You may eat.”

  My hands trembled as I picked up the wine glass full of water, wondering if there was a catch—because there had to be a catch. I was disobedient, yet he didn’t beat me for it.

  The glass I was holding was slipped from my hands, calling my attention when he took a sip, showing me that there was nothing wrong with it. “The days in which you were drugged to force your compliance are over, Keaton.”

  Not wanting to offend him, I took a few sips and slowly ate what was in front of me. For a moment, my guard was down and I no longer felt the fear I tried to suppress. I looked back at him, wondering if that was his point. “Am I allowed to ask you questions?”

  He quirked a brow. “Within reason and not very many without pressing the limits of my patience. I strongly suggest you choose your questions carefully.”

  The lobster was seasoned well and nearly melted in my mouth with its buttery flavor. I savored it, knowing I missed this luxury. I missed…so much more than I ever thought I would because it was stolen from me. “How did you start this place?”

  “With an inheritance and wise investments,” he answered tepidly.

  “And your family…do they know about what you do…here?”

  He stared at me long and hard, and I wasn’t sure if my question went too far or if he was thinking about the answer. When many moments passed, I surmised I wouldn’t get an answer.

  “Why am I here?”

  “Simple,” he answered. “To please. To help others reach their atonement and their peace.”

  “But why me? If you were looking for someone broken there are so many people—people who would’ve easily complied to your principles. And why are the parishioners the only ones who deserve atonement?”

  “Your atonement is tied to theirs. You are chosen for a task you should be grateful for. There is much more to why a person is chosen than whether or not they are a lost soul. As for how you were chosen, what makes you think it was I who picked you?”

  The more I searched his eyes, the more he intimidated me. My need to strike up a conversation was quickly dashed. It seemed clear we would constantly talk in circles and I would only receive oversimplified answers to my questions…or silence.

  I ate quietly and quickly without setting him off for my poor manners. I was afraid I would break what little there was to his patience and it would be the last time I’d ever have a meal like the one I did tonight.

  “In comparison to the members who come here for atonement,” he began, cutting through the silence, “do you notice a common thread with the men and women who are deliverers of our principles and sources for absolution—the ones who reside in this house. On the surface, what do you see?”

  “They’re beautiful.”

  “They? Are you excluding yourself because you don’t feel you fit the criteria?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he stood. He brought a hand to the side of my cheek, his hazel eyes lowering to my face. “The only reason you don’t fit the former criteria is because you have a misguided notion that you have nothing in common with the people who serve as your housemates.”

  “I don’t see anyone else receiving the punishments I have, and I know I’m not the only one who disobeys.”

  His hand slipped to the back of my neck firming his grip. “You aren’t an exception to the rule, Keaton. You never will be. As for what you see, it’s a small aspect of the world I created. You haven’t scratched at the surface of it all, and because your vision is obstructed, you may never see what’s right in front of you.

  “Had you not chosen to live your life on the streets, I very seriously doubt you’d be here right now. Had you not met the man who forced you to run from the life you knew, you most certainly wouldn’t be here. How long do you think you could’ve survived being homeless—holding on to your anonymity? He would’ve found you, and what do you think he would’ve done with you when he had?”

  I averted my eyes to the ground.

  “You miss your family, as you should. Be patient, Keaton. Your freedom will come. You simply need to desire it.”

  “Why are you…being nice to me?” I asked, stunned at his use of the word freedom. A word I heard a handful of times. I’d forgotten the idea and the meaning of the word.

  “I show kindness to all who please me. Worship me.” His tone began to fade into the quiet. “Continue to worship me.”

  Nodding, I moved to sink down to my knees.

  He stood and grabbed my hips, halting me. A smirk of satisfaction crossed his face.

  “Was it always this simple, Keaton? After a small display of my kindness, you are the model for deference.”

  “You think what I’ve gone through is little?” I touched the scars on my stomach. The ugly, hideous scars alongside the stab wounds that both held sentimental value.

  “You had to endure the pain to appreciate the pleasure.” He began to pace toward the door, opening it to allow me to leave. “Tonight, I’m allowing you into my room and I’m going to show the full extent of the pleasure you can experience.”

  A sob resounded as I kept my head bowed and followed him to the other wing of the house.

  Why didn’t I run? Why didn’t I fight? Why did I so mindlessly obey and follow him?

  At his closed bedroom door, Nadine was there, patiently waiting.

  “Prepare her for my return,” Reven ordered Nadine.

  She blinked, startled by his command, but quickly wiped away her confusion and opened the door. He had given her an affectionate kiss on the cheek before he left. She continuously left me in awe. I had no idea how long she had been in this place, yet she put up a convincing front while never allowing Reven into her mind like Jayme had.

  She dropped her smile and approached me. Taking my hand, she led me inside Reven’s bedroom. It was exactly what I expected it to be. It was twice the size of any of the rooms the others were given. Minimalist, but still luxe. The walls were a dark, cool blue and the furnishings were white with white upholstery much like the linens adorning his bed.

  Nadine directed me to take a bath and wait on the bed, naked, when I was ready.

  After my bath,
she removed my robe and directed me to sit on the bed. She placed a blindfold over my eyes, pushing me to lie back on the bed. Tight straps were wrapped around my ankles and wrists, positioned at various places, and leaving me spread, vulnerable and unable to move.

  I felt her soft hand touch my arm. “It’s just a precaution. Reven isn’t into anything kinky when he sleeps with someone for the first time. He’ll keep it simple, take you in missionary position, come quickly, and kick you out. The blindfold is needed because no one is allowed to see him fully naked. Don’t worry. If he’s allowed you here, it’s not because you did something wrong. I don’t know how much comfort that gives you, but…” I felt her breath at my ear. “Everyone’s first time with him hurts, so pretend like hell that he’s hurting you.” The bed bowed and leveled, indicating she’d lifted away. With an audible reluctance, she added softly, “Sometimes we need to close our eyes to see the truth.” The door shut with a soft clicking sound.

  I struggled against my restraints, feeling helpless and hyperaware. The door clicked, announcing the new arrival. I knew the pacing of the steps, the clicking of the taps. He walked with deliberate steps and it was unmistakable in the signature sound of his shoes against the marble. The door clicked again, indicating he locked it.

  The tremors in my body increased as the sound of his footsteps neared the bed. I sucked in a breath in an attempt to calm myself down, but it did nothing to help.

  His textured but gentle hands touched my knee making me jerk. Slowly, his warm touch was removed.

  The rustle of clothing resounded through the air, methodic and smooth. The bed dipped with his weight. The smooth skin of his body gently draped over mine. He positioned himself over me with his lower half between my legs. The tickle of his pubic hair brushed against my naked sex. I shuddered, wiggling against my restraints.