In Helen’s Hands

by Nanisi Barrett D'Arnuk

  “Maybe I won’t have to use these. He’ll pass out just thinking of what they’ll feel like.” She turned back to me. “Are you sure you can take these without dropping those shackles?”

  I took a very difficult and deep swallow. It seemed as if all the moisture in my mouth had disappeared. “Yes, sir.”

  “Helen,” Roz called over her shoulder, not taking her eyes off me, “I got these from a friend in the Castro who works with electric devices. Look how nicely these hold.” With that, she started applying the clamps, one by one, not more than a quarter inch apart up both of my arms, across my chest, and down my torso. After a few minutes of intense pain, it all started to even out and became manageable, almost pleasant. Yes, I could maintain this without accepting the pain as bad.

  “What do you think, Helen?” Roz asked.

  “Very artistic, very nice. Are you okay, boy?”

  I wasn’t sure where I was. I heard everything they were saying, but I felt a mile away. I could feel each and every one of the clips, but the pain had faded hours ago. Or minutes. However long it had been.

  Helen touched my face. That brought me back into the dungeon. “Little Butch?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I managed.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Can we continue?” Roz asked.

  “Yes, please, sir,” I answered, remembering my manners.

  Roz and Helen both laughed evilly. “Then maybe we should try these. What do you think, darling?” Roz held up a bunch of clamps strung together on a long black cord.

  Helen smirked. “I think he’ll really like those. Probably too much. You may have to send me some of those when you get back to California.”

  Roz started to clip the clamps on my breasts, circling around and around toward my nipples. I watched as she worked. I was amazed at her artistry. She seemed to know exactly where to place each one and just how long the cords would reach so that the very last one on each end of the cord just reached my nipples. But she left the last ones off, holding them out in front of me.

  “You ready for this, boy?” she asked.

  I watched her from so far away, I wasn’t even aware of answering, but I must have nodded.

  “Then here we go.” With that, she let the final two snap on my nipples.

  Next I knew, Helen wiped my face with a soft cloth. “Amazing. He didn’t even let go of the chains.”

  Blinking, I looked up. I still held on to the tethers, but I had fallen to my knees.

  “Very pretty, Roz. It almost looks like he’s feathered. I’m always amazed at your creativity.”

  They talked about the clamps for a few minutes. Or maybe it was hours. Time had lost its meaning. I was aware when Roz stood in front of me holding a long, thin black cane.

  She helped me to my feet. “Are you ready for them to come off?”

  “Yes, sir,” I answered automatically.

  I wasn’t ready for the cane to come down on the row of clamps on my left arm. Several flew in the air. As the blood and feeling rushed to the places where the clamps had been, a sharp stab of pain replaced the numbness. A loud moan escaped my lips.

  Then another snap of the cane flipped clamps off my right arm. A third snap removed more from my left arm, then another on my right. Several snaps across my chest ripped the single clamps from there. One after another, Roz flicked the clamps off. Soon, I was so encircled by pain, I could hardly stand. My entire concentration was tied into standing and holding on to the chains. Could I live through this? Would I pass out? All I knew was the sting of pain going up one arm, across my chest, and on to the other arm. I gripped at the chains, knowing that I had to hang on. If nothing else, they were my lifeline.

  Roz proceeded to rip the clamps off my stomach and sides. Soon all that remained were the ones around my beasts, the ones strung together by the long black cords.

  “How are you doing, boy?” Helen’s voice pushed its way through the web of pain.

  I fought to push myself above the surface. “I’m…I’m here…ma’am.”

  “Good boy. Such a good boy.” She stroked my face. “Just a little more. We’re almost done.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.” I felt as if my voice was scratching its way through tons of sand.

  “Here. Sip this.”

  Helen raised a glass to my lips, and I took a sip of cold liquid. I was beyond identifying the taste. It could have been water or soda or even carrot juice.

  “Ready?” Roz asked, taking the black cord that hung between my breasts. I just stared at her as she glared into my eyes and stepped back.

  The world erupted in a blaze of red and black as Roz ripped the cord away, stripping the clamps from around my breasts so quickly that it all became a blur. I’d never felt this much pain before, not even the last time I’d been in Roz’s hands. This was just color, pain, and the sound of my own screams.

  The only thing that kept me upright was the chains. My legs had become water; my knees buckled under me.

  “I sure hope you have this room soundproofed well,” Roz said through the haze.

  “Well, no one’s called the police yet, so it must be well dampened.” She touched my chest. My breathing was ragged, but I fought to calm it and willed my knees to straighten.

  “Do you still have that nasty glove?” Roz asked. “Some of these marks look like they’re just begging to bleed.”

  I looked at my chest as Helen went to the armoire. She returned with a black leather glove and a bottle of alcohol. It looked like a regular glove until I pulled myself into consciousness. Then I realized what Helen held. The fingers looked as if someone had stuck thumbtacks through from the inside so each finger was a row of sharp points.

  Helen slipped the glove over her right hand and held it out. Then she placed her hand on my chest above my left breast. Without taking her eyes off mine, she leaned in. Each little tack pulled at my flesh. I closed my eyes.

  “Don’t zone out on me yet, Little Butch,” Helen whispered as she took her hand away.

  I looked down. My breast was covered with small red dots, a few oozing blood.

  “Is the other one jealous?” she asked as she slapped my right breast, not waiting for an answer.

  I gasped, starting to shake. I hung on to the chains tighter.

  “And he’s not even thanking you for that glorious blood, Helen. I thought he’d be more grateful than that,” Roz voice boomed through the haze again.

  I knew there was something I wanted to say but wasn’t sure what it was.

  “Are you okay, my Little Butch?”

  It took me a minute to think of an answer. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, Mistress. I’m…grateful.”

  I heard Roz roar. Helen placed her hand on my head and forced my head back. “Look me in the eyes, boy, and repeat that.”

  I had to search for a moment to focus on her. “Thank you, Mistress,” I repeated. What else had I said? “I’m…I’m grateful for your…your…” I stopped, trying to remember.

  “My what? Where are you focused, boy?”

  “Your pain, ma’am.”

  “What about my pain?” Helen seemed to smile.

  “Thank you for giving me pain, ma’am.” Had I said it right? My mind wasn’t working as well as it should have.

  “Very good, my boy.” Helen patted her glove down my torso, one side and then the other, coaxing blood from many of the red, swollen marks Roz’s clamps had left.

  “Very nice, darling,” Roz said. “He bleeds so nicely.”

  Helen smeared the oozing blood across my chest. “Want to see how good that tastes?” she asked as she offered her hand. I started to suck her fingers, tasting the metallic, salty taste. I began to suckle, my eyes closed, my head spinning.

  Finally, Helen placed her hand on my forehead, and I looked into her face. “Zoning, aren’t you, boy.” She smiled.

  I couldn’t even formulate an answer. I just blinked. She started to unwrap my hand from aroun
d the chain. “I think you need to sit down. Can you do that?” she asked.

  I nodded. She and Roz helped me sink to the floor. I sprawled, my back against the wall, my mind a blur, staring at the smear of blood across my body. I didn’t know how long I remained there before I realized that Roz was sitting on the floor with me.

  We just sat there, looking at each other. I hadn’t even noticed Helen had left until the door opened, and she came back. “How’s he doing?” she asked.

  Roz chuckled. “I think he’s coming back to life. He certainly has a deep zone, doesn’t he?”

  “You should see him fly with wax.”

  “Oh, yes, I’d love to see that.”

  I gasped. Were we going to try wax now? “Boston?” I ventured.

  “Take it easy, Little Butch.” Helen smiled. “There’s just one other small thing tonight. We’ll leave wax for now.”

  I let my head fall back against the wall, relieved that this was almost over.

  Helen kneeled. “This is something I’ve been planning for a while. It’ll commemorate all the work you’ve done on my music. And how much you’ve pleased me. I think you’re in a good space to accept it tonight.”

  She set a small tray on the floor. I tried to focus but gave up before I saw more than a bottle and some needles. Helen lit a small candle. It seemed like a ritual, with her the priestess and me the offering. Then she wiped her hand across my body again, gathering blood. She offered the blood to me, and I started to suck once again, sinking back into my lower zone.

  Roz moved to support me, holding me firm and steady. It was a very reassuring feeling. Helen wiped my earlobe with alcohol and held a cube of ice on it until it became numb. Then she took a large needle and a cork from the tray.

  “I’m giving you another token. This one you’ll never have to take off when you go out. This will always be with you.”

  She pierced my ear. Then she opened a small black box. In it was one small stud, a gold music note. Within minutes, the note was clamped on to my ear. She held a mirror up so I could see. “What do you think, boy?”

  I moved until it was in focus, a beautiful gold quarter note on my ear. “It’s beautiful! Thank you, thank you, Mistress. It’s beautiful.”

  Helen laughed. “Well, you certainly are glib when you’re in zone, aren’t you?” She put a towel across me so that the blood wouldn’t drip on her shirt and pulled me into her arms. Tears began to flow, but these weren’t the same as last time; these were tears of joy and gratitude.

  She rocked me until my head started to clear.

  “He’s grown quite a lot in the past few months. I’m jealous, Helen, really jealous. Is there anything he can’t do?”

  I looked up to see Helen beaming. “I’ve only found one limit so far.”

  “A limit? Really? Besides my hands?” Roz seemed amazed.

  Helen broke out laughing. “He’s afraid of the dark!”

  Chapter Twenty

  Without thinking, I scratched an itch on my chest. The sharp pain made me smile. I stepped into the shower and let the warm water wash away the dried blood. There were several places where the water and soap stung, but it was nowhere near as bad as it had been the last time Roz had been in town. As I dried myself off, I couldn’t help but laugh. I looked like I had chicken pox: Small red marks lined my body and my arms. Under closer inspection, none were deep enough to cause damage, but there were several bruises where Roz’s clamps had bit in deeply.

  I went down to breakfast to find Roz and Helen sitting over coffee. Roz had spent the night. My heart did a flip-flop as I realized they might have spent the night together. But then, I thought, taking a deep breath, I had no hold over Helen. I was hers; she wasn’t mine. That wasn’t part of our contract.

  “Well, well. How are you this morning?” Helen asked. The look on her face was happy and serene.

  “I’m okay. I slept quite soundly.”

  Roz chuckled. “You were out before we even left the room.”

  I nodded, a little embarrassed. “I guess I’m not as strong as I think I am.”

  “You were quite strong last night. I was very proud of you. How are your bruises?” Helen asked.

  “I look like I have a wonderful case of the measles,” I admitted. Then to Roz, I added, “Those clips were real nasty.” I had to smile. “I like them.”

  Helen looked at Roz. “I told you he would.”

  Roz just smiled and nodded.

  * * *

  That day, I spent my time running errands, cleaning the dungeon, and making more carrot juice. Roz wouldn’t drink it, but Helen chugged it like it was going out of style. Maybe it was the nerves, but she kept to her room, coming out only if she needed something. I found chores to do but was always aware of the sounds that said Helen was up and about or that she wanted something.

  Roz worked at the piano. I was amazed at how well she played. It wasn’t anything like Helen, but she could hold her own with the best of them. “Whose music is this, boy?” she asked as she thumbed through a pile of work on top of the piano.

  “That’s mine, sir.”

  “You wrote this?”

  “Yes, sir,” I said sheepishly.

  “You amaze me, boy,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m not sure Helen knows what she has here. How can she keep you locked up with all this talent?”

  “She…just can,” I stammered, not knowing what to say.

  “Don’t you want your own career? You could be as famous as Helen.”

  “I will, sir, when the time is right…when Mistress thinks I’m ready.”

  “Well, when you are, come see me. I’ll make sure you’re famous.”

  “Thank you, sir. I appreciate that.”

  “I’m not kidding,” she assured me.

  “About what?” Helen appeared in the doorway.

  “About this boy, Helen. He’s talented. He needs to be put in the limelight. He should be on a tour of his own.”

  Helen looked at me. “Is that what you want, boy?”

  I wasn’t sure what to say. “When I’m ready.”

  “Helen—” Roz started.

  Helen held her hand up. “Do you have errands to run?” she asked me.

  I started to say I’d done them all, but from the look in their eyes, I could tell they wanted to talk. “Yes, ma’am. It’ll take me about twenty minutes or so. If I might be excused.”

  “Good boy,” she said as I withdrew.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  I paced outside of the back door of the club. People filed in to hear Helen’s music. Some wore very expensive clothing, others didn’t, but then, this was New York; almost anything went here.

  The day had gone smoothly with both Helen and Roz resting most of the day. All the other performers were here already, sitting with friends in the audience or enjoying a last-minute drink. A small table near the back had been reserved for Roz, Johnny, and Stephen. And me, if I ever felt as if I could sit still. Helen was going over details with Joe and Dennis. They would do one set before the big event. That part was just business as usual for all of them, something they were used to. Helen had admitted to a few butterflies about the opera, but I was more nervous than anyone. They just had to perform; I had to watch.

  I had very mixed emotions about this performance. Yes, I’d worked on it for as long as I’d been with Helen, but it meant Helen was that much closer to leaving for her Asian tour.

  I hadn’t made any plans for her time away. I had a few hints that I’d have some transcribing work from Helen’s associates, but nothing had been confirmed. Maybe I’d take some time to go to Boston and visit Frank and some other friends or even take a trip to visit my parents. I hadn’t seen them since I’d moved to New York.

  “They’re gonna start,” came a voice behind me, my cue from one of the waitresses.

  I slipped inside to the table in back. The place was packed. In fact, the manager was bringing in more chairs. I slid into the seat next to Roz. I noticed Master Lawren
ce, Robert, and two girls at one of the tables.

  Roz must have seen me looking their way. She leaned close. “The Master was asking where you were.”

  “I’ll go over and say hello during intermission.” He remembered me? What a privilege.

  “I hear you were a very good boy for him while Helen was away.”

  I smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Miss Maxwell,” she corrected.

  I chuckled. “Yes…Miss Maxwell.”

  Her face broke out in a broad smile. Then Helen and the guys went up onstage. The entire place erupted in applause and cheers. I happily joined in.

  Helen acknowledged the recognition, then adjusted the microphone. “We’re going to be recording tonight, so you can’t be talking during the music, or you’ll be on the tape.”

  Roz leaned in with a smile. “She can’t even resist topping a whole audience, can she?”

  The music started, and we sat back, smiling broadly. When the set finished, the crowd went wild. I wasn’t even the first one on my feet, cheering and howling as the applause erupted, filling the room.

  Helen took the microphone as the guys laid their instruments down and started to leave the stage. “All right. We’ll be back in a half hour with something special I think you’ll like. Rozalyn Maxwell and Johnny Williams will be up here. Until you’ve heard the two of them together, you haven’t heard anything!”

  More applause answered her announcement.

  “And we have a new sax player I think you’ll like. Out of Boston, Mr. Stephen Cogswell. So have a great intermission and a few drinks. Tip your waiters well, and we’ll all be back soon.” More applause followed her off the stage.

  I stood as the waitresses got back in gear to start serving, and conversation rose around the room. Roz was in a discussion with Johnny so I made my way over to Master Lawrence’s table and waited until he looked at me.