Secret Society

by Robin Roseau

  "How long is a while? Several hours or several days?"

  "Hours."

  "Anything else?"

  "When I'm done, you're going to hug me, kiss me on the cheek, and thank me. At no point are you going to lash out in even the smallest of ways. And then you will accept whatever comforting I arrange for you while you emotionally recover."

  I thought about it. "Are you going to tell me why you're trying to scare me?"

  "No."

  "Are you going to advise me on whether I should allow this?"

  "We're going to send a message. That's the only answer I'm going to give you."

  "Did you have more to say?"

  "I've told you this before. I will have a small amount of help. Some amount of surprise and force is going to be involved. The people who help me will not be named, and they will not be obligated to provide a blue marble. You'll get one from me. Any others are because the woman in question chooses to do so."

  I thought carefully. I believed her. And I believed it was going to be terrible.

  But I trusted her.

  "You said something in an odd fashion. You said whatever comforting you arranged, not whatever comforting you provide."

  "You may ask for comforting from me, and I'll give it. But if you don't ask it from me specifically, then it will come from someone else, someone who won't have been involved earlier."

  "You think I'm going to be angry with you."

  "Probably past angry."

  "And you're going to do it anyway."

  "Only if you ask again."

  I took a breath. "When?"

  "Are you asking?"

  "Yes, but I want to know when."

  "Saturday."

  "The meeting is Saturday."

  "You'll make the meeting. We'll have lunch. Do you have a gown picked?"

  "Yes."

  "You can bring it, but you might want to bring far more comfortable clothes. You might be too ragged to try to look nice."

  "Lunch here?"

  "I'll pick you up."

  "Are you really taking me to lunch, or should I eat first?"

  "I'm really taking you to lunch, but I'm ordering for you."

  I took a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly. "All right. Opal, will you haze me?"

  "Yes."

  "Will I forgive you?"

  "I hope so."

  I closed my eyes for a moment. "Am I making a mistake?"

  "No."

  And so I nodded. Saturday.

  Mortification

  I dressed semi-casually for lunch, and I had a garment bag and small suitcase for later. Opal arrived at noon and invited herself in. She looked a little nervous, too. She saw what I had, and I explained the contents.

  "Good," she said.

  "Is this lunch a date? Please, I want it to be a date."

  She smiled. "Yes."

  "Then I believe you should have kissed me already."

  And so she did, although it wasn't necessarily as warm as some of ours. Of course, we weren't about to go have sex for hours in her basement, or at least I didn't think so. We were going to lunch.

  It might be I was about to end up in her basement, though. I suppose she could video everything, and go well past my limits besides. But I didn't think that was entirely her plan.

  We put my things in the trunk of her car, and then she handed me in.

  Lunch was a short drive to a little cafe in downtown Broadwater, right next to the park. When we parked, she arranged a sun visor on the dash, the sort people sometimes use during high summer to keep the inside of their cars from getting too hot. I thought that was odd, but I said nothing.

  For lunch, Opal let me have a half sandwich, some fruit, and a glass of lemonade.

  "I like this cafe," I told her. "I used to come here with Grandmother Cadence."

  "I've been here once or twice with her, too."

  "Did you and she ever..."

  "Heavens, no. Oh, I don't even want to think about those sparks."

  "Yeah, I suppose that was a stupid question." But then I reached out, and she let me take her hand. I pulled it into my lap, clasping it with both of mine. "Is this all right?"

  "Yes, Blythe. It's perfect."

  "My heart is pounding."

  "I know."

  "Are you going to hurt me?"

  "A little."

  "If I asked you to cancel this, would you?"

  "Yes. Are you asking?"

  "No."

  I looked out at the park. "Do you know how the vote will go tonight?"

  "I don't have a clue. Anxious to be done?"

  "I don't know. I don't think I'm going to make more friends than I have."

  "Not this way, no."

  "That means the initiation period has serve its purpose."

  "Most of it," Opal agreed.

  "Do you know if anyone is bringing Sylvia? She's in the middle of a novel. Will she come?"

  "She'll be there," Opal assured me.

  "Good."

  Opal freed her hand from mine so she could pay the check, but when I asked for it back, she gave it to me.

  "If I asked you to take me away sometime, would you?"

  "Where would you like to go?"

  "I don't know. I guess it depends on the season. But I'd want us to have privacy when we wanted it."

  "Sun? Museums? Shows?"

  "I don't know. Wherever you want to go. Is there anywhere that's special for you, but not so special it would send the wrong signals to take me?"

  "There isn't anywhere I couldn't take you. I like to travel. I'd like to bring you with me. But Blythe, you mustn't let yourself fall in love with me."

  "I know." I turned to look at her. "It wouldn't be hard. That's why you brought that woman, isn't it?"

  "Yes. Were you hurt?"

  "Jealous. Not hurt. You'll notice I'm not asking if you brought her back to your place after. I don't want to think about that."

  "I wouldn't tell you anyway."

  "Is that why you're going to do this? To hurt me enough I won't fall for you?"

  "No. I wouldn't do that."

  "You're either going to drive me away or bring us a lot closer, you know. It won't be the same afterwards."

  "I hope I don't drive you away. There might be some temporary distance. If so, I'll wait it out, treat you with a great deal of patience and kindness, and then wait for permission to ask you out again."

  "I'll have to bring it up?"

  "If there's distance, yes."

  I nodded. "Fair enough. Are your helpers waiting to leap out at me? Have we given them a chance to make their arrangements?"

  She smiled but didn't answer.

  "Walk through the greens first? Or do we have to go?"

  "We have time. All the time you want."

  "I find that unlikely."

  But we climbed to our feet, left the cafe, and crossed the street into the park. We wandered slowly, my hand in her arm, and I leaned my head against her shoulder from time to time.

  We reached the waterfront. The ice was long gone, and we stared out at the water. "I've always liked it here," I said. "It's funny though."

  "What's that?"

  "We live in one of the most prestigious neighborhoods in the entire metropolitan area, and the houses are all facing inward instead of the lake."

  "It says something about our ancestors," she replied. "I would have built right on the shore, with a boat house and a marina."

  "And one of those beautiful wooden boats that look like a sports car."

  "Matching boats," she agreed. "And a beautiful sailboat with a teak deck."

  "Yeah. That would be lovely." I turned to her. "Could you kiss me here?"

  She could, and it was sweet and lovely, and a little sad besides. I hugged her afterwards.

  "Let's walk," she said, and she led us along the boardwalk beside the water. We stopped and watched a little girl feed the ducks, coaxing them to eat from her hand.

  "Grandmother Ca
dence never let me do that. She thought the ducks were disgusting creatures."

  "Geese are worse."

  "Goose poop. Grandmother Cadence hated goose poop." I smiled.

  "You always call her that."

  "A lifetime of habit. She wouldn't accept anything else."

  We resumed walking, and I didn't even notice that she was leading me back to her car until we reached the parking lot. She led me to the side of the car and turned me to face her.

  "Once you get into the car, there's no going back, Blythe."

  "Kiss me once more."

  And she did.

  She didn't unlock my door, and so I waited. She unlocked her own side, climbed in, and then hit the release for my door. I began to climb in, but there was an envelope sitting on my seat. I stared at it. I was sure she hadn't set it there since getting in. My name was readily visible.

  "Someone has been in your car," I said.

  Opal didn't say anything. She sat quietly, saying nothing, but watching me. I looked across at her, and I couldn't read her expression. Finally I nodded, picked up the note, and climbed in. I began to reach for my seatbelt, but Opal stopped me.

  "Read the note first."

  "All right."

  It wasn't sealed, so it was easy to open. It was a single notecard, and when I flipped it open, it was brief.

  You should struggle. Struggle hard.

  In confusion, I looked over at Opal. "What-"

  My words were cut off as, from behind me, arms wrapped around me. I caught a glimpse of someone in a ski mask, and before I could scream, one of the hands covered my face, shoving something firm into my mouth in the process.

  I clawed at the arms, the arms holding me, dragging me tightly against the seat. But they were protected with long sleeves, jackets, and leather gloves.

  I kicked, and I screamed, the sound muffled. Then I reached for the door handle, but I heard a click, and when I flashed my eyes at Opal, I saw she had hit the door locks.

  Other than that, she didn't move. She didn't help. She didn't help them. She didn't help me.

  I tried to reach backwards, I tried to strike out. One of them grabbed one of my flailing arms, and then they were dragging me backwards, out of the front seat and into back with them.

  There were at least two, maybe three. It was all so quick. I kicked my feet wildly as they dragged me into the back, and I kicked more as they dumped me face down onto the seat and then pinned me in place with hands and knees.

  My arms were captured and dragged behind me. I expected metal, but they took their time, wrapping my wrists in ropes, tying them well. My kicking legs received similar treatment, first around my ankles, then just above my knees. More rope was adding above my elbows, pulling my arms tightly behind me.

  I spit out whatever they had shoved into my mouth, and I began to scream in earnest, but one of them wrapped her hand through my hair and forced my face into the crook where seat bottom met seat back. I could still breath, but my screams were quite muffled.

  I continued to squirm and struggle, but I grew increasingly ineffective as they finished binding me, finally tying my legs off to my wrists, pulling savagely to eliminate any remaining kicking. Then they yanked my head up, and the thing, whatever it was, was shoved back between my protesting lips. I tried to clamp my mouth shut, and they pressed painfully against my teeth.

  "Open," someone said harshly, a voice I didn't recognize. "Or we'll really hurt you."

  "No!" I screamed, but that was all they needed, and my mouth was again filled, then they tied it off, tightly, savagely behind my head before letting my face drop back to the cushions.

  The last was a blindfold, some sort of harness, the sort I'd worn before. It covered my eyes, allowing no light at all, and as they buckled it into place, I knew I wouldn't get it off. But I heard the snick of little locks besides.

  Then I felt cold metal at my ankle, moving, moving up my leg. I didn't understand at first. I didn't understand even as they rolled me this way and that a few times.

  They cut my clothes from my body. Every stitch, pulling the strips away as they could. It took them a while, and they had to tighten some of the bonds afterwards, but they removed every stitch, and I found myself entirely naked.

  And then they dumped me onto the floor. They weren't gentle about it. Still, I struggled, but one foot landed on my legs, pressing down, and another found it's way to the back of my neck, pressing enough to hold me in place on the floor.

  We were moving. I wasn't sure how long we'd been moving, but we were moving.

  We didn't go much further, and I was still panting in fear, the adrenalin coursing through my body. I was half out of my mind. But they pinned me to the floor, almost casually.

  We slowed, drove a little further, and slowed further. A stop, then a slow crawl forward. And then some rocking, and a final stop. The engine shut down, and all was quiet except for my frantic breathing.

  "Bring her." Opal's voice.

  I tried to calm down. I trusted Opal. I did. She had to know this would terrify me. She'd warned me. I tried to calm down.

  But it was hard.

  They weren't gentle, but they weren't intentionally rough, either. They had to half drag me from the car, setting me onto cold concrete for a minute. Then one spoke into my ear. "We don't want to drop you. But if you squirm, we might not be able to hold you." They didn't wait for me to respond but picked me up, two arms under my chest, one under my hips, and the last under my knees. It hurt, and I whimpered, but I didn't struggle.

  They carried me somewhere, not far. I thought it was a house. Nowhere else made sense. I thought we were at Opal's house. That made sense. But she could have invited me in. I would have walked in. I would have let her tie me. I didn't know why she did it this way.

  They carried me somewhere. If it were Opal's, I expected to go into the basement next. Instead they set me down. It was hard, but there was some sort of cloth beneath me. A towel on a table? That's what it felt like.

  They stepped away, not going very far, although I heard clothing come off. Jackets, I wasn't sure what else. Then a chair creaked near my head, and a moment later I felt fingers on my cheek.

  "I imagine you're scared," Opal said. "Maybe you remember you trust me. Maybe you don't. I'm not going to ask. I'm not going to ask you one single question. I told you, once you got into the car, there was no going back. I'm going to do what I intend to do, and nothing you do will stop it."

  I breathed heavily as she let me think about that.

  "You do have a small number of choices. We're about to change how you're tied. I have more than enough help to ensure the outcome. Then I'm going to spend time preparing you for what I have planned. You'll experience a few changes of position. Each time, you could struggle. You could fight me. You will lose, but I will punish you for it."

  She paused.

  "I'm not going to bother asking if you understand. Frankly, I don't care. This is happening. Get used to the idea."

  They didn't wait after that. They pulled me forward until my head hung off the table, and I thought they were about to drop me to the floor. But instead I felt something drop around my neck, and when they pulled me back further onto the table, I could only go a short distance before I was caught, my head trapped in a stocks, I thought.

  They released my legs from my wrists, and I could straighten my legs and reduce the reverse arch in my back. Then, in increments, my legs were untied together and stretched far, far apart before being rebound. My arms were last, pulled away from my body and stretched tightly.

  Then they left me like that, utterly helpless.

  I didn't cry. I didn't know what I was feeling. Fear, yes, but no anger. Confusion. I didn't know what else.

  They weren't gone long.

  Opal sat down at my head again. "What we're going to do isn't supposed to hurt or even be uncomfortable. But it may at times tickle. It may at times hurt. You will lie as still as you are able. You will do everything you can to
avoid flinching. You will not fully succeed, but if I believe you have done your best, I will not punish you."

  I whimpered. She offered no comfort.

  "If I do not believe you are doing your best, I will certainly punish you, severely. I'll give you a minute or two once we start to grow accustomed, but then you damned well better lie very, very still."

  Opal stood and moved her chair. I heard more chairs. And then Opal said, "Begin slowly. If you can tell something hurts, change what you're doing. This is preparation, not punishment."

  And then, first one at my left leg, then one over my right shoulder, then the other two, they began to touch me with something. Something sharp. I immediately began screaming into the gag.

  "We're not cutting you," Opal said quickly. "Blythe, we're not cutting you." She set a hand on my shoulder and waited for me to calm down. It took a minute. "We're not cutting you," she said again. "We're not hurting you." She paused. "Continue."

  Whatever they were using was sharp, and they were dragging it across my skin, usually in long, slow curves. They weren't digging in, but it still felt like knives, sliding across my skin.

  It didn't tickle, and it was sharp, but it didn't hurt. But then one of them changed direction, and I flinched as whatever she did dug into me.

  "Sorry," I heard. It was muffled, and I wondered how they were disguising their voices. She pressed a soothing hand over the offended area.

  "Pull," Opal explained. "Never push. If you make direction changes, lead with your hand so you're always pulling."

  And so I lay there as they did whatever they were doing. It took a long time for me to figure it out. I should have guessed sooner. But then one said, "That's really pretty," and it became clear.

  They were drawing on my skin.

  I didn't know with what. Pens? Eyeliner pencils? I wasn't sure.

  It took time, quite a bit of time. They each worked separately, but their work merged.

  "She won't hold still for her feet or ribs," Opal said. "We'll do those more carefully, and we won't punish her if it is difficult for her."

  And so they drew, and then some of them changed their working pattern, working in one area, back and forth, back and forth. Pauses. Back and forth. Back and forth.