White Silk & I Belong to You

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  I must have fainted again, just long enough for my black lover to leave me with my well-fucked ass still in the air, riding the breeze. By the time my eyes open again, he’s gone and Daniel’s in the room again.

  Realizing that the fucking is over, I manage to turn onto my back; it’s just too uncomfortable on my knees. By now, there aren’t too many positions that don’t make my body ache. My bound arms feel stretched to twice their side, and the muscles in my thighs quiver as they remain unable to close. Yet, my discomfort is the last thought in my brain…

  “I never realized how much you despise me,” I tell Daniel as he enters the room and moves toward the bed.

  “Why say that?” He looks surprised.

  “You do. I heard the way you spoke to him about me.”

  “To Jaz.”

  “Yeah, to Jaz.”

  He shakes his head. “You’ve got me wrong on that. I admire you as much as I ever did.”

  “I doubt that you ever admired me. But ‘she’s still good for sex.’”.

  “That you are, good for sex. But you are more than that. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have been worth saving.”

  “Saving for what? To be a slave on the outside…”

  “You’re telling me you don’t like playing slave?”

  “I’m telling you that was my past.”

  “Oh, really? Your past? If that’s the case, then don’t go throwing yourself at me and expect anything else.”

  Hot tears sting my eyes.

  He laughs. “Oh my, was this supposed to be some tender reunion? I guess I’ve really fucked up, haven’t I?”

  “Quit mocking me, Daniel.”

  “Sure. But who would have thought that White Silk would have tightened up that little twat of hers. You used to be so loose with your favors and happy about it.”

  “See, that is all you think of me. There’s no tender feeling in that hard heart. I don’t know now why I bothered coming here.”

  “So, you think there’s nothing there?”

  “I know there’s nothing there.”

  I think he’s offended. “Well, now that’s a lie as good as the ridiculous reason you gave for coming here in the first place. Maybe, eventually, you’ll tell me the truth.”

  “I have told you the truth.”

  His eyes darken. “Bullshit, girl,” he suddenly climbs on the bed over me, his hands on either side of my face, his blue eyes staring into mine, threateningly. “What does it take to make you honest?”

  “I am being honest.”

  He slaps my face and unlike Aman’s demeaning slap, this one hurts far beyond the stinging physical pain. “Why are you lying?”

  I’m too flustered for words.

  “At least admit you’re lying. Do it, Michelle, or I’ll start punishing you all over again until you come clean.”

  He’ll have no mercy, I can see this now. But what do I say?

  “Admit it!”

  I want to look away, but he takes my chin in his hand and forces my gaze.

  “Okay! You’re right. Yes. I’m lying,” I finally blurt out.

  “Then what’s the truth?”

  I shake my head. “I can’t tell you.”

  “What? That makes no sense. You came here for a reason and you’re playing games for whatever bullshit reason your sorry brain’s made up.”

  I stare him in the eye, trying to speak, but the words catch in my throat.

  “Out with it, Michelle!” he takes a nipple between his fingers and twists.

  I writhe. He twists more and my face contorts into a pained grimace.

  “This what you want? Punishment? You want it hard and long and nasty? Is that what this is about?”

  “Please!” It’s the only word that escapes.

  “Please what?”

  “Please stop.”

  “No!” He keeps twisting and squeezing the small slip of skin. “I should just hang you by your nipples until the confession pours from your lips.”

  I’m silent still as though my mind races for the words to say.

  He finally lets go, backs off the bed and stares down at me in all my laid out woe. “I’m in the States on business and to check up on a few former slaves, you being one. I’ve made numerous inquiries through my contacts.”

  “And why is that?” I wonder aloud.

  “I’ve had reason to believe you’re in danger.” I feel a sudden welling of tears in my eyes. This is all I needed to hear. “You want to deny it now?” he asks.

  I shake my head.

  “How long ago?”

  “A couple months.” I can barely whisper.

  “Aman?”

  “Yes, Aman. I’ve been with him on several occasions. His instructions were pretty clear. He’s claimed me as his slave.”

  “But you’re free to roam, to see me in New York, to have a boyfriend? How’s that being a slave?”

  “It’s a more modern arrangement… sort of.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means he owns me, that I’m at his beck and call when he’s in town, and when he’s not, I’m free to live my life as I choose—with a few small changes. Right now, he’s off somewhere, but he could return anytime.”

  His eyebrows narrow abruptly. “So you’re risking your life just being here,” he says grimly.

  “I don’t think of it that way.”

  “Well you should, slut. He’d just as soon kill you as allow you to cross him. He may also have you tailed and know exactly where you are right now. Have you thought of that?”

  “I know it’s possible.”

  “So what’s he have to keep you ‘at his beck and call’?”

  “Pictures of my family and friends. He knows them all, implying that they are at risk if I don’t do what he says. And, most importantly, my assistant, Sunny has become an unwitting victim to his slave trade.” My emotions rise, as everything I confess becomes more difficult to voice aloud. “I’m not sure how just yet, but he zeroed in on her, finding a willing S&M player. He gave her to some sexual master that has turned her heart as much as her body into a simpering submissive. Now he has plans to send her to his training ground. Daniel, I can’t let that happen! That’s why I’m here. He’s already taken Steven from me. But I won’t let him have Sunny.”

  Tears stream down my face as my emotions quickly surface. I’ve spent the last weeks in a fog of denial and false hope. Even the vicious doses of reality that Aman’s dishes out don’t create the feeling of desperation I’m experiencing now. Yes, it matters to me that Sunny is being swept away on my coattails, but it also matters that I’m losing any chance for a normal life, and it matters most of all, that I’m losing Steven—forever.

  “Damn him! Damn him! She doesn’t even know,” I sob. “She has no clue. No clue. It’ll be too late. And If I tell her, I know she won’t believe me. And Steven…” My body is so wracked with sobs that I can’t go on.

  Daniel unties my feet and then my hands and gathers me to his chest where the tears pour out until I have no more left. He’s not a man accustomed to sentiment and compassion, but he manages in his own awkward way. When the tears pass, he sets me back down on the bed and sits beside me.

  “I’m so cold.”

  “Here.” He pulls the bedspread over my naked shoulders and I nestle in the small cocoon. “So, you thought I could help?”

  “I didn’t know. I didn’t know if you weren’t somehow in on the scheme. I needed to find out. It seemed a little too coincidental, Aman suddenly swooping down on my life and now you appear out of nowhere for the first time in years. Daniel, don’t mess with me. If I’m Aman’s and there’s no way out then I have to know. If there’s a chance that I can be free of him, I need to know that too.”

  He stares down at me and snickers.

  “Hell, I should probably just keep you here to keep you safe.”

  “Sure, that would work for me, but it would do nothing for Steven and Sunny and the others.”

  “What a
bout this Steven?”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Has he guts enough to risk himself for you?”

  “Guts, yes. But risk himself for me? I’m not sure.”

  He searches my face, worriedly. “He doesn’t know, does he?”

  “About. . . ?”

  “White Silk.”

  I turn my head away in embarrassment.

  “Look at me, Michelle. I want an answer.”

  “No, he doesn’t.” I bite my lip and gulp guiltily.

  Judgment pours from his eyes.

  “What was I supposed to do, lay that heavy trip on him first thing?”

  “How long have you been together?”

  “Eight, nine months.”

  “And in all that time?”

  “I couldn’t. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. I did it with Kovac. The man knew every sordid detail. But not Steven.”

  “You think he’ll leave you if he knows the truth?”

  I can’t answer that.

  “Is that it? You have some prissy pretty boy who’d flinch at your darkness? What the hell do you want with him anyway?”

  “He’s not a prissy pretty boy, Daniel! He’s more like you than any other man I’ve met; just a heck of a lot more civilized.”

  “Does he love you?”

  “More than I deserve.”

  “Then, good God, give the man a chance.”

  “I can’t tell him.”

  “Well, if you don’t, there’s nothing I can do for you.”

  He rises from the bed and turns toward the living room.

  I jump to my feet and follow him.

  “What does Steven have to do with getting me free of Aman?”

  “If it’s doable at all, I can’t do it alone. You need safe haven and frankly, I don’t trust you with your own escape.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Damn it! You mucked this one up. Don’t you see that? Doing your fucking documentaries. Soon as Kovac’s ashes are scattered, there you are again, hogging the spotlight with movie producers, taunting the underworld that had you in their grasp, flaunting your freedom before their eyes, like you were above them now. You’d think you had the smarts enough to know that you can’t live in the limelight with your past. You can’t cozy up to people in high places. They’ll worry that you’ll start to talk. You’re dangerous to the slave trade, Michelle. What you know could shut them down, or at least make it difficult for them to operate. Why the hell that wasn’t clear to you when I sent you on your way, I don’t know.” He’s pissed. “Irrational, brainless female that you are, I should have known better. I should have know the day Kovac died that you were going to require another intervention.”

  “Then you knew when Kovac died?”

  “Of course. I’ve known everything about you since you left my side. It’s not just your safety I was concerned about, but mine. You didn’t think I pissed off a few people when you came up missing? I needed to keep tabs on you. I should have stopped you a year ago when you produced that first documentary. But, I thought the subject was safe and that your work would drift into obscurity. Which it should have done.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “But no; you’re good. You win prizes, you draw attention to yourself. There are interviews and talks about books, and a sudden fascination with your odd history as a political prisoner. Or did you know that was the buzz in certain European circles?”

  “I stopped the book deal right off.”

  “But not before you had enough media attention to grab the notice of the slave trade you served. You breathe even one word about your captivity, you get the bogeymen scared. I’ll bet Aman’s had his eyes on you for months, not weeks. It’s my guess that within days after your whereabouts were revealed, there were eyes peeking into your life.”

  A visible chill shakes my body.

  “You bet you should tremble, girl. You’re not safe now, you never will be safe. Ever. You hear that? Ever!”

  He paces. I don’t remember ever seeing him this distraught.

  I slump down in a living room chair, “So, why do you even care? You don’t have to! You could just let me go back to them.”

  His hands sag in the pockets of his pants. “Because I do, Michelle, and that’s my weakness. You did get under my skin. You were the woman I would have wanted in another lifetime.”

  He sighs and turns to me, “Just not this one. And, the facts are, I don’t care what tidy arrangement Aman’s laid out for you, at some time his fascination for you is going to end. You’ll be dangerous to their cause, and that makes you expendable. The grand life of a sexual slave belongs in fetish novels, at best your trendy Bdsm dungeons, because real life as a sex slave has nothing to do with the lofty ideals of trust, loyalty, love and respect. You should know that, if anyone does. Maybe our brief affair tainted your memory. Perhaps you have some gilded vision of it lingering in your brain. In case you do, let’s get one thing straight, you were expendable to them then and you are to them now. That’s the reason I shoved you back into your world; I didn’t want to see you die in their hands. And that’s the reason I’m here now.” He stops, his hard eyes grab me cruelly, just as his brutal honesty has shaken my gut. “So, is the man you love man enough to do what it takes to save you?”

  “He’s no weak-kneed boy, Daniel. But will he want to save me? I don’t know.”

  “If he loves you, he will. I’ll let you tidy things up between the two of you.”

  Daniel moves my way, taking a swipe at the floor to grab at my clothes and tosses them in my lap.

  “Get dressed. Go home. Make your confession to Steven and sit tight. I’ll let you know what to do. Hopefully, I have a few days to figure this out.”

  “A few days? You’re sure Aman won’t hassle me?”

  “No. I’m not sure. But I intercepted a communication last night. He flew to France yesterday and is booked for a flight to Jordan tonight. It’s my guess the organization called him back, at least for a few days.”

  Unbidden, my eyes fill with tears and love. “You’re really doing this for me?”

  Daniel Broc amazes me… Some would call him evil—he’s certainly done evil things. But there is more than hurt, brutality and evil in his heart. For a man of distinct black and white, he has a wide grey area of interpretation left open by this new act of mercy. At least I can rationalize the fact that my attraction for him has not dwindled. It won’t dwindle in another five years or ever. But it will remain submerged, and regardless of the warm feeling I feel now, he remains an impossible man to love. I know it’s better to keep a lid on any sentimental feelings, though I can’t help this small one that escapes my heart.

  “I’ve had it planned for weeks.”

  “Then you knew?”

  “Of course, I knew.”

  “So what am I? A pawn in a game for men?”

  “Don’t go romanticizing the thing, Michelle. Though, yes, you are just a pawn in a great game that I don’t intend to lose.”

  Strange feelings rattle me with shivers. I’m chilled to the bone. All the sentimentality is swept away… rightly so.

  “You’re in danger as much as I am, aren’t you?”

  “Don’t ask, because I’m not telling you more, Monroe. Just take the game seriously this time. This is a deadly game and there are no chances after this one.”

  “I’m lucky to have this one.”

  He nods, but he won’t say more.

  It is a long sobering ride on the train, and another long ride to my apartment, where I find four messages from Steven on the answering machine, each one more frantic sounding than the one before.

  Chapter Nine

  I meet Steven in a small city garden where I often go to think. It’s secluded on four sides by brick walls, which are covered with thick vines. I come here believing that it is my private refuge, that no one else knows of its existence tucked in the heart of the city, unseen. It is one place where I’m able to think clearly, even with th
e sounds of traffic in the distance and the harsh smells of city life that permeate the jungle of vines. I hope Steven and I will find as much clarity here together as I find for myself. Because I figure he’ll have some difficulty finding the garden, I wait outside on a small concrete bench.

  Some minutes later, he approaches from the solitary path leading to the garden. My heart skips a beat in fear, while at the same time, I feel the same flutter sexual excitement that has always attracted me to him.

  “Why here?” he asks.

  “I knew we’d be safe.”

  His eyebrows narrow with concern. “Safe?”

  I rise to my feet and slip through the opening in the brick wall into the open area beyond. Some city gardener must tend the small space with meticulous care, like a mysterious gremlin who knows just when I’m about to arrive and prepares the place for me.

  As Steven follows, he brushes the thick growth aside and gazes in awe.

  “How did you find this place?”

  “I found it when I first moved here. How? Just stumbled in like I belonged. I’ve been coming here ever since when I need a quiet place to think.”

  “And that’s what we need now? Quiet?” He looks at me suspiciously. I know he has a lot on his mind and so do I. Even inside these soothing and earthy surroundings, I feel the agitation between us rising like the breeze that rips through the air above.

  “Maybe.”

  “So, you want to tell me what’s going on?”

  I hear the same brittle urgency in his voice that I heard in his phone messages.

  “Maybe you want to tell me why you’re so upset,” I cautiously venture.

  “Upset? You think I’m upset.”

  “I know you are.”

  He smirks and nods his head agreeing. “Yeah, I am upset.” There is something especially unnerving about anger in a man who is commonly good-natured. To be responsible for that anger makes the tension that much worse.

  “How about we start with where you were yesterday. You tell me you’re in NY to do additional filming for the documentary and then I run into Sunny and think, hmm, this is curious. Wouldn’t Sunny be with you? I ask her, how many days does she think you’ll be away, and she looks at me like I’m crazy. ‘Michelle’s in New York?’ she asks me. ‘Yes, she’s redoing footage,’ I answer. She looks totally dumbfounded. Then, she realizes that it’s a lie and she tries to cover for you. But she doesn’t do it very well. So, I start to speculate. Does it have to do with the mysterious notes that you so quickly tucked away… or maybe you’re with Daniel, your friend who showed up at the conference? I wonder even more, if there are other things you’re lying about. What about the missed dates? Are you really as busy as you say?” He pauses to give me time to answer, then starts in again when I don’t. “I don’t have any answers but I sure have a lot of questions.” He shrugs. “I could make up the answers on my own, but maybe I’d get them wrong. Maybe.” His expression, filled with hurt and puzzlement, makes me shudder with guilt. “I’d rather have the answers from you. What do you think? Think it’s about time you started talking?”