Chapter 17
Grace
I weighed all my options in his absence. If I don’t do what he wants me to do, I’ll get punished. And judging by what he did to me yesterday, I can count on his creativity when it comes to breaking my will and mind.
I never knew that orgasms could be this agonizing—and I never knew that I could come this much in such a short time. I stopped counting after the third, mainly because I was no longer capable of doing so. My mind was blank, consumed by an overwhelming blend of pain and pleasure, engaged in a mind-numbing dance that eventually caused me to pass out.
But the way I felt when I came to...
I’d never admit it in front of him, but I’ve never felt this liberated before. I was broken, completely torn apart and freed of any burden that could put a strain on me. And still, I’ve never felt this connected to myself before. In those few minutes I felt so much, that I was no longer tortured by that insatiable yearning for more. For years, I’d been chasing this liberation, this connection to something that remained a mystery to me—my identity and my place in this world. I could never find it.
Not when I cut myself. Not when I jumped. The fear and the pain I felt from those things was never deep enough to answer the sinister calling deep within myself.
And he did that to me. It seems like his punishment was just what I needed to finally get there, to finally feel as deeply as I always ached to.
But I can’t possibly be thankful for what he did to me, can I? What crazy person would be after all he’s done? He can’t be trusted, no matter how beautiful he is, no matter how nice the things he says about me, no matter how tenderly he bathed me, how nurturing her appears to be at times...
He’s playing a game with me. He wants more than just my virginity. If all of this was just about simply raping me, he would have done it by now. And until I can figure him out, I can’t trust him.
Besides, he’s not almighty and surprisingly receptive to my own little tricks. I didn’t have to eat breakfast naked, even though that’s what he asked for. There is a way for me to manipulate him as much as he manipulates me, I just have to be smart about it.
I believe him when he says that there’s a carrot in this game just as much as the stick, but he never clarified what that means. His vague response was meant to tickle my curiosity, but it also leaves room for me to fill that void. I could ask for things. I could gain my freedom back, step by step.
I sit on the floor in the middle of the room, showered and all spruced up, hands placed on my knees, my palms up and the protective robe hanging on my shoulders. I did all he asked of me, my body smooth, my hair blow-dried and my face painted. The vanity in the bathroom was filled to the brim with everything a woman could ask for, more beauty products than I’d ever bought for myself—and all expensive brands, as one would expect in a lavish home like this. Following his instructions to do what makes me feel pretty, I only applied a minimal amount of make-up, a bit of foundation, rouge on my cheeks and black mascara. I’ve never liked heavy make-up on myself, because it makes me feel like I’m wearing a mask.
And I needed the girl in the mirror to look like me. I’m strongest when I feel like myself.
I jerk up in surprise when I hear the lock of the door clicking. Did he tiptoe along the corridor so I wouldn’t hear him coming? When the door swings open, I hurry to look away, lowering my head in the demure manner he expects of me. My heart is racing with anticipation, as I listen to him step inside and close the door, before he approaches me with calm and deliberate steps.
He comes to a halt right in front of me, the tips of his black loafers just inches away from my knees. His presence is as intimidating as it is soothing, and even without looking at him, I can tell that he is pleased with me.
“Good girl, very good girl,” he says, sounding surprised. “Look at me.”
I obey, tilting my head back to meet his eyes above me. There’s no smile on his face, but a cautious smirk, almost wary, as if he was unsure what to make of my sudden obedience.
Good. Just what I wanted.
I smile at him, hoping to add to his confusion. He doesn’t reciprocate, but winks at me, as if he knew what I was trying to achieve.
“You really like that robe, huh,” he remarks, before he goes down on his knees and places his hands on my shoulders.
I don’t fight him when he hooks his fingers under the collar, gently gracing along my skin as he pulls the robe down, until it rests on the floor behind my back.
“You never said anything about me having to be naked,” I remind him. “So, technically, I didn’t break any rules.”
He chuckles, still kneeing in front of me so that we’re almost on the same eyelevel.
“You’re not wrong,” he responds. “But you know how much I like to see you, all of you.”
He musters me with that hungry look again, pointedly licking his lip, as if he could taste me while his greedy eyes take in every inch of my exposed self.
“I did everything you asked of me, sir,” I say, hoping to find the right tone of voice, benevolent, but not too sweet, confident but not too demanding. “So, I was wondering...”
I pause, my lips pursed and my lashes fluttering as I try to appear more nervous and shy than I actually am. He needs to perceive me as vulnerable, unable—and unwilling—to take away his upper hand.
“You were wondering?” He pokes, just as I hoped he would.
“I was wondering who gets to decide what that carrot you spoke of could entail?” I ask. “Do I get to express a wish?”
“No,” he replies in an instant, shaking his head.
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t trust you to be reasonable,” he explains. “I know you’ll ask for things that I can’t give you.”
“How would you know, if you don’t even hear me out?” I add for consideration.
He sighs and rises to his feet, arms crossed in front of his chest as he towers above me.
“Fine,” he says. “Let me hear it.”
This is going better than I expected.
“The shutters on the windows, I would like them to be opened so I can look outside,” I tell him. “I miss the daylight, the sun. This is depressing.”
He laughs darkly, before shaking his head. “Absolutely not.”
“Please,” I beg. “I’ll earn it. I’ll do what you ask of me. I’ll be good. I promise.”
He faces the windows behind my back, a stern expression on his face while he seems to contemplate my proposal. It’s a start. A start that could give me the tiniest hint about where we might be. If he insists on keeping the shutters closed at all costs, it could mean that he’s afraid of me being seen from the outside—which would mean that this place is not as remote as I thought it was.
“What... what if I soften the deal for you?” I ask, deciding that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.
He juts his chin at me, silently beckoning me to elaborate.
“How about we only open them for a brief time, five minutes, maybe ten,” I say. “And... and with you in the room right next to me. I mean, it’s not like I could run anyway—thanks to this thing.”
I hook a finger under the collar around my neck, giving it a soft yank. “And if I jumped, I’d just hang myself. I have no intent of dying here.”
Heavy silence cloaks the both of us as our eyes meet. Once again, I fail to read his facial expression, searching for an answer that he’s not willing to reveal.
You’re not planning to kill me, are you? I want to ask him that all the time, but I don’t dare to. I’m afraid of what his answer could be.
“You can... I don’t know, seal my mouth or whatever, if you’re afraid that I’ll start screaming or something,” I go on, when he still refuses to respond.
Now, he chuckles, a wide grin on his face when he goes back down on his knees, almost meeting me at eyelevel.
“Fine,” he says. “I’ll grant you a look outside.”
A jubilant hiccup churns inside my chest, but I try not to let it show.
“But,” he adds, placing two fingers below my chin as he pins me down with an intense stare. “First, you’ll have to earn it.”