Labyrinth

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  “No, sir.”

  “Well, again, you’ll have to keep that in mind as you plan your seduction. Even if I did know myself, I wouldn’t tell you.”

  ***

  Two weeks later, Evie arrived for the interview we’d set up for her through the dance company. One look at me and the shock registered immediately, but before she could stammer something she’d likely regret, I kindly pulled her into my office and showed her to a chair. A compliant girl, she didn’t refuse.

  The feel of my hands on her shoulder seemed to soothe her, as if she remembered how I’d soothed her that night in the attic. But was it a good memory or one she wanted to forget? I was reminded that my task was not an easy one.

  While I took my seat, she stared at me aghast, her eyes never drifting for a second. I could feel the turmoil in her so like what I’d experienced myself when thrust into a frightening situation. “This is an interview, isn’t it?” she blurted out the moment I sat down.

  Her face was a bit like an angel’s. So white, so fair, so pure and flawless. Many women would die for such unblemished skin. Her hair was arranged in a bun atop her head—very ballet like—although tiny tendrils of loose hair created a soft halo about her face that added to her angelic appearance. The fact that I’d seen her in very different circumstances—as in climbing up a whip on her belly—made for quite a contrast in my own mind. Also made me wonder what she was thinking, now that we’d jumbled our two lives together. Juxtaposing the strongly erotic parts of ones life in a real world setting can be disturbing. I have faced it often enough in my own life; although at the beginning of my slavery, Dominick provided me so many occasions where my two worlds collided that the differences eventually disappeared, making for just one blended world. I had to take myself back in time, put myself in Evie’s tiny shoes in order to appreciate the angst she was feeling. I felt a little sorry for her, and yet, if she wanted to play in Dominick’s world then this was something she’d have to get used to.

  Moved by her anxiety, I replied to her desperate inquiry with a sympathetic, “Of course this is an interview. And it’s a real magazine, and I’m a real editor, working at a real job that I dearly love and, I might add, owe to the man who owns me.” I cocked my head and smiled warmly.

  Evie’s eyes grew wide again. As I figured, the mention of being owned would definitely rouse her.

  “Then it’s true? You are a…a slave,” she could barely get the word out.

  “I am. And I’m also a magazine editor. And I would dearly love to interview you as the remarkable dancer you’ve become. I’m sorry that I haven’t been to any of your performances, but I have been doing my homework, reading everything there is to know about the young phenom Evie Poulin. You’re quite a talent, just the kind of rising star our readers love to hear about. Personally, I’m always in awe of artists like yourself. I haven’t an artistic bone in my body” She blushed as she listened; this was good. My mood was loving and generous, as if I were enveloping her in my arms, which I would dearly have enjoyed. I wanted her to recall how my whispering voice in the attic soothed away her fears. That scene was not exactly scripted, although earlier that evening, Alec West had taken me aside and told me that later he’d need me to help keep her calm. She was being tested to see if she would be good slave material. It all makes sense now; Dominick’s scheme to own Evie had been in the works even then, though I had no clue at the time.

  Was the motherly aura working to calm her? Since it was hard to tell, I continued in the same vein. “How about I get us some tea to share. My assistant Sophie brought in some wonderful chai. Would you like to try it?”

  She nodded, “Yes, thank you,” and I could feel her energy softening another degree.

  I buzzed my assistant, “Sophie, would you get Miss Poulin and me a cup of tea, and maybe some of those small lemon cookies. Not too many, though.” I winked at the girl as I spoke, then settled all my attention on her once I was off the phone.

  Though the wary look in her eyes did not disappear, nor did her bout of nervous fear, she seemed willing to stay. If I could have slipped her a little something in the tea, I would have, but then that would be cheating.

  I’m not sure what made her to remain for the long list of questions I was to pose. I hope it was because I had won her over with my empathic performance. I would have naturally done the same for anyone I was interviewing, but there was particular pressure on me for this interview, and I hoped that I didn’t sound as strained and anxious as I truly felt.

  We enjoyed our tea and cookies with a casual conversation, then I jumped directly into the interview. We both seemed to enjoy the casual back and forth, and the next hour went by so fast that I was stunned when I looked up at the clock. All that time, I was waiting for just the right opening, one that would lead me into the territory of my life and her submission. But how to segue between her career as a ballet dancer and her interest in kinky sexuality; the two subjects seemed mutually exclusive of one another. As luck would have it, Evie solved that dilemma herself. In the midst of a question about her greatest influences in the dance world, she suddenly changed gears and looked up at me with a puzzled expression.

  “You know the black man…”

  “The black man?” I sat back, rightly surprised by the sudden shift.

  “Yes. The one at the…the weekend thing? Tall, very handsome. I’m sorry, but I’m not very good at descriptions. He’s sort of like this vibrant presence sculpted in granite.”

  “So what about him?”

  “I don’t know a thing about him, but the way he comes and goes from my life, I swear he’s magic.”

  “Comes and goes from your life? And he does this how?”

  “He’s been at my recitals, and some of the major performances of the ballet, nearly two years now. He just pops up out of nowhere with his eyes so fixed on me that I feel as though he’s staring into my soul. Then he’s suddenly gone—I’ve started to doubt if he’s even there. When I saw him in the warehouse that night, I practically panicked. And then, months later, he’s at that awful Army barracks.” She blushed and nervously put a lock of stray hair behind her ear. “I never get a chance to get close to him. Either Alex whisks me away, or the man just disappears into thin air. Then there’s all those rules about keeping silent that have me so scared that I probably wouldn’t even open my mouth if he was close enough to speak to. You do know who I’m talking about?”

  “Yes, I believe I know the man you’re describing.”

  “Is he real?”

  I laughed. “Of course he’s real. What would you like to know about him?”

  “Is he, well, is he safe…it almost feels like I’m being stalked, and yet, I don’t feel any danger. In fact, quite the opposite. Is he…I mean should I be worried?”

  “I assure you, he’s not dangerous in the slightest. He’s one of the most sane and rational people I know. But he is a slave owning sadist.”

  She looked so shaken that, for a moment, I feared that I’d come on too strong—‘slave owning sadist’. Was that too blunt?

  “May I ask you another question?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Having seen you during those weekends, and knowing that you’re a-a sex slave…what I’d really like to know is what it is like to live in that world. I mean, if you would know that sort of thing.”

  “You mean what it’s like to be a man’s slave?”

  She looked so frail to me that I worried she might just disintegrate and blow away on the next gust of air.

  “Well, yes, maybe that is what I want to know.” She looked at me, waiting for a reply, while I took a moment to cagily observe her. Feeling that the conversation required a little more intimacy, I moved from my chair, and casually wandered to the front of my desk where I leaned back against it in a familiar way that I hoped would feel natural and comfortable for her. Her nervous jitters were even more noticeable up close, although rather than making me anxious, they were arousing my own desires for this deli
cate beauty. I could see why Dominick was so smitten. What a word! Smitten. To think that my Dominick could be smitten seemed silly, but after just one conversation with the girl, ‘smitten’ made perfect sense. She was one of the most ‘sub’ females I’d ever met…a real innocent charmer with just enough of a feral cat in her character to make her a very interesting study, and the perfect dream girl for a man like my master.

  I think she was nearly in tears. I watched her white hands one moment clasp together in her lap, suddenly break apart and cling to the sides of her chair, her knuckles whitening as she held fast to her seat. Yes, delicate was a good way to describe her, and a master like Dominick might be ‘smitten’ with such a rare treasure as Evie, but did she even belong in a slave’s world?

  “So, Evie, are your only experiences with sexual submission been when you’ve been to the labyrinth?”

  “That’s what you call it? The sex orgy?” She blushed and bowed her head. If even this was hard for her, I couldn’t see how we could go much further before she’d be entirely freaked out.

  “Yes, the labyrinth; that’s how it’s commonly known. A good name, I think.”

  “Yes. I guess so. And yes, that is my only experience like that. In that sort of setting, with those people…though I have had some unusual fantasies for a long time. It’s a little scary actually.”

  “And what is it that frightens you?”

  “That my fantasies are actually not fantasies at all…”

  “Ah, yes! The labyrinth is the place where fantasies like ours come to life.”

  “Oh! This is so embarrassing!” Her palms flew up and covered her face as she bowed her head.

  I reached out and gently pulled them away, until the girl finally looked up at me. “Evie, please, you don’t need to be ashamed with me. I’m a fulltime slave by my own choice, a decision that I will never regret. I’ve known shame and humiliation as profound as that terrifying moment you climbed Billy’s whip. It’s a rare and beautiful moment for women like us.”

  “Ohmygod, you saw that?”

  “Yes, I was there. And you were amazing.”

  “I still can’t believe I did that. I’ve never done anything so…so…”

  Looking as if she was about to cry, she tugged at my heartstrings. But no! There was no time for sentimentality; I had to keep going. The choice was clear to me with my future depending on the outcome of this meeting.

  “Depraved? You’ve never done anything so depraved,” I offered up the appropriate word rather bluntly. It’s one that certainly stuns, but it does work well to describe what happens in the labyrinth.

  “Yes, yes…depraved.” She could barely repeat the word. “I just can’t imagine—” Her face screwed up in a pained grimace.

  “So, you didn’t enjoy yourself?”

  “Not at all!”

  “Oh now, Evie, think about it. Be honest with yourself.” Though I dropped my hold on her and leaned back again, my eyes didn’t waver from her quivering form. For the moment, it was clear that I’d captivated her imagination, but there was so much further to go. “If you’re honest, you know that submission is a drug, and once you have it, you can’t just throw it off. There are places of surrender even deeper and more profound than you’ve already experienced. Feelings that you can know nowhere else. You discover a power that few women would dare touch. You have a gift for surrender, Evie. I’ve seen you fight it, like that scene outside the old asylum.” She winced at the mention of it. “Yes, you had an audience, but a loving one, at least your fellow slaves looked on appreciating what you were put through that day. And what happened afterwards? Did the ordeal not create a mood of surrender? Weren’t you taken away to that other, sweeter world? Your eyes were so filled with longing and need as you made that journey up Billy’s whip that you had the entire room enthralled by the exhibition.”

  I could feel urgency and hunger dripping from her parted mouth, and in her eyes was an expression of longing that made me want to reach out and take her into my arms. I knew I had her within my grasp, but I kept my distance, allowing her desire to build.

  “You have to go again when you get the call from Mr. West. You must, or you’ll be dishonoring yourself. Don’t let any one man spoil the experience. If it’s the black man you want then you have to go after him. You may think that it’s the men who hold all the cards, who have all the power, do all the choosing in the labyrinth…but they are not. They can satisfy their need because we choose them…I mean, if they can’t have our hearts, then what good are our bodies? If it is the black man you desire, if he has watched you, if you two have made a connection, then you must let this play out. You can’t let your fears get in the way of an experience you have secretly craved your entire life.”

  “You think I’ve craved this?”

  “You practically told me as much. I know it’s sometimes hard to accept the passions that drive us, but it is so much better for us when we do. You can’t deceive yourself and be happy. I know, I’ve been through the same halting thoughts myself, before I gave myself to my desires.” I wasn’t about to tell her that I’d made the life altering decision to become Dominick’s slave in less than forty-eight hours. Even I know how rash that decision was.

  “You think that’s right for me…to just let this happen?”

  “Ask yourself. Go inside. Can you honestly say that your times in the labyrinth haven’t been some of the most real and pleasurable moments of your life?”

  “Oh, you are right,” she sighed. “I know I can’t ignore this.”

  I sighed so deeply inside that I hoped she didn’t notice the look of relief on my face. “That’s very good, Evie. That’s good that you understand.”

  “Isn’t it funny that I’m meeting you for an interview about my dancing and we end up talking about this?”

  “Sometimes the more surprising, even coincidental things happen when you tap into your real desires. Events get set in motion that can begin no other way. If it all seems magical, well maybe it is.”

  Talking this way was a gamble, but I seemed to have caught her attention.

  “But aren’t there other ways for me to meet the man? I mean, if I could just sit down and talk to him the way I’m talking to you. Go out to dinner… you know, normal things.”

  I chuckled. “You’d just be a bundle of nerves and get all tongue tied. My advice is allow this to play out and enjoy it.” I leaned in almost conspiratorially, “Eventually, you’ll meet him in a more normal environment. But for now, just let the labyrinth take you to him. You have desires that are aching to be realized; these are as important to him as they are to you. You’ve only tasted submission in that place, and there is so much more, so much more…and you can’t stop now. You’ll gladly go next time Alec comes to collect you and I promise that your experience will bring you to the man you seek. I can promise that.”

  “You can?”

  I nodded.

  She looked at me through glassy eyes. And when I saw the belief in them, I could almost see my own freedom staring me in the face. I would make this happen for Evie and for me. I would.

  ***

  “You know your instructions?” he said.

  “I know what I will do,” I answered.

  “It will not be as easy as you think, Lana. This is not the same game we’ve played before. The rules are stricter, the stakes high, and you will have to suffer through this yourself before you can hope to have any influence on Evie.”

  “And you doubt I can handle it?” My show of confidence was my suit of armor, and yet underneath I was quaking like a scared rabbit.

  “I don’t doubt that you’ll give it your best, although you might wonder before it’s over if I haven’t just set you up to fail.”

  I feared that too, but then had to wonder if he was only trying to scare me more than I already was.

  Dominick smiled warmly and placed his hand affectionately on my cheek, then he opened the door of the Jeep and let me escape into the labyrinth.


  Five acres of woods, of trees and streams, hedges and stone fences make up the elaborate maze created sometime in the last century. Myths and legends are born in places like this one. You enter, as always, with the sound of barking dogs creeping into the consciousness. The dogs will run free, I was told; though harmless beasts, they will frighten the easily terrorized and add another layer of the fantastic to this season’s festival of darkness. The woods creak in the wind and that wind stirs the rattling leaves on this late summer’s eve. As I stare into the winding maze, I shudder, wondering if I can earn my freedom or I’ll be lost to the chains and collar and the auction block that await me if I don’t.

  Part of me revels in the likelihood that I’ll once again be kicked down to my knees and forced into more depravity at the hands of strangers. Part of me despairs for the same reason. I do want out. I do. Though with Dominick testing my resolve it will not be easy if it’s possible at all.

  I start out slowly, walking between hedges, finding myself surrounded by towering privet. I can see but only a few feet in front of me, and as I navigate these barriers, the turns and the twists that confront me only add to my anxiety. Dominick has dressed me in a short toga that catches against thorns and brush, and I have to tug hard to pull it free, as if the privet intends to suck me in. Though my bare feet stumble on the pebbly path, I have to ignore the discomfort and press forward.

  Looking back, I know that I’ve already lost my way. From somewhere in the distance I can hear the screams of the women who entered before me, but what takes place to prompt those screams eludes me for the moment. I see nothing but thick, dark walls of verdant green closing in around me. I must move forward.

  Although I was given a head start on Evie, who I’m told will arrive later, I have only a short time inside the maze to acclimatize myself to the obstacles we’ll both face. Never in five years have I faced this sort of challenge when in the labyrinth. There have always been walls and structure, and though unusual things have been known to happen, there has been no event that has been as open-ended as this one.