by Aya DeAniege
I took Mayfair to the granite floor, and I beat her mercilessly.
When Mr. Wrightworth tried to drag me off of her, I dug my nails in deep and got away. The work I had done over the previous three months had built up muscle that Mayfair didn’t have. Mr. Wrightworth hadn’t expected me to pull away. He hadn’t tested my strength before.
I lunged forward again and bit down on Mayfair’s jaw.
Only to spit her out a moment later because she tasted like chemicals.
My tongue burned as Mr. Wrightworth got a proper grip and dragged me off. His hand wrapped around my throat as he commanded me three times to let her go. The only reason I eventually did was because my vision was narrowing down too quickly.
My hands released without any conscious thought from me.
I was dragged, quite against my will, into a side room.
“Thank you, Ezekiel.”
“I thought you said she was stable,” the greeter snapped out.
“I will get to the bottom of this. I swear she was,” Mr. Wrightworth said as the door closed.
I struggled to get in a breath as I sat up. The man shoved me back down, knocking the air out of me.
“No. You stay.”
There was some movement behind me, and Mr. Wrightworth bent over me, his tie coming down in front of me. I had just enough time to protest before he wrapped it around my throat and tightened. I could still breathe, but it was difficult. The edges of my vision darkened as Mr. Wrightworth tightened the tie. He straightened slightly, loosing his grasp on my throat just enough for me to get in a breath.
I heard the sound of his belt sliding off.
And then he tightened his grip again, cutting off the air a moment before he struck me with the belt. With the tie around my throat, I couldn’t cry out, because there wasn’t enough air to do so.
The belt bit into my skin, and it hurt without the benefit of pleasure. He was hitting me too hard for it ever to be enjoyable. Struggling for breath didn’t help, and without breath, I couldn’t withdraw consent.
The only time Mr. Wrightworth didn’t exactly support consent was when he was disciplining someone. If I could have gotten in the breath, there isn’t a shadow of doubt in my mind that I would have been released.
Mr. Wrightworth struck me five times with the belt, then loosened the tie to allow me to breathe. I was just catching my breath, my vision beginning to clear, when the tie tightened, and the belt rained down once more.
This repeated four more times.
And then the tie came loose.
Mr. Wrightworth grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked me up by it. There was a special sort of rage in his features, an ice to his hazel eyes that I hadn’t seen in months.
“Why did you attack her?” he demanded.
My chest heaved as I gasped for breath. He gave me a shake and snarled.
“Why?” he shouted.
“She told him,” I managed to get out.
Mr. Wrightworth went perfectly still.
He leaned in as if he hadn’t heard me correctly.
“What did you just say?”
“She told Nathaniel’s father.”
The hand in my hair released and I fell to the floor with a squeak. When my backside hit the cold granite, I cried out, even though the act of crying out hurt.
“Are you certain?” he asked, crouching down by me.
His suit was rumpled, purple tie still wrapped around his hand. I glanced at the tie, then back up at Mr. Wrightworth.
I was afraid that he wouldn’t believe me, and that he would use the tie and belt again to hurt me more.
“She sent him pictures,” I said.
“Pictures?” Mr. Wrightworth asked.
“On his phone,” I hesitated when Mr. Wrightworth smiled. “It had him and me and that pair in the background having sex on the stage.”
“Oberon and Jake,” Mr. Wrightworth purred out. “Stay.”
The man left the room. I was stuck on the floor, in agony, wondering why in the hell he hadn’t just asked before he hit me. My backside was in that kind of special pain that made breathing difficult. It seemed my lungs didn’t want to work properly, and their dysfunction had nothing to do with the fact that Mr. Wrightworth had choked me as he beat me.
Mr. Wrightworth returned a moment later with Nicole and Oberon. The other man looked pissed. Nicole almost smiled at me.
“Do we get to play?” Nicole asked.
“No,” Mr. Wrightworth said once the door closed. “It seems this little episode was because Elaina sent Albert an image, it’s on his cellphone.”
“Just because there’s an image on a phone that’s in evidence doesn’t mean I’ll fetch it for you,” Oberon said sternly, crossing his arms.
“You and Jake are having sex in the background,” I said, rubbing at my neck.
My voice sounded thick and gravelly. The pain in my throat was slowly coming to me, making existence all the worse because it wasn’t just the one pain any longer, it was both sides that hurt.
“I’m not suggesting you delete it,” Mr. Wrightworth said. “I want proof. If Darling is lying, you can have her to use as you please.” I wasn’t lying, but that didn’t mean that the fear didn’t drive a whimper out of me. “And no, she’s not been trained yet. It’s been months. She’s almost fully recovered. It’d almost be like fucking a virgin.”
“And if what she said is true?” Nicole asked.
“I’m going to peg that bitch in the face, but it supports the statements so far. It could speed up the process. We can’t do anything until everything falls into place. I want them both in jail.”
“You leave tomorrow,” Nicole said quietly. “Are you going to be safe?”
“Safe as I ever am,” Mr. Wrightworth said. “You need to look after her. Oberon, please pull some strings. If it is your face on there, you know what that could do to your reputation and life. I could have gone to Raul. He could get it and send me a copy and then destroy it. But you and I have a history. I’m giving the opportunity to you, to bring that bitch down a peg or two.”
“I’ll do it, but we need a founder’s meeting,” Oberon said. “Bring in Nicole to represent the Dommes. She can take Nathaniel’s seat.”
“Still not attending?” Nicole asked.
Oberon made a small sound, then motioned down to me.
“All right,” Nicole said. “I’ll take his vote, but she’ll be asking about why there’s a meeting without Nathaniel. She’s really fucking interested in everything to do with Nathaniel’s duties to the community. Tried to pawn off her new sub to me, and she hasn’t even brought him to church yet.”
“Tried the same with me,” Mr. Wrightworth muttered with a frown.
“Mr. Wrightworth,” Oberon growled.
“What?” the man snapped back.
Oberon made another small sound and motioned to me once more.
“She was disciplined,” Mr. Wrightworth said.
“For an entirely natural reaction,” Nicole said.
“She embarrassed me. We still have to go out there and see the rest of the congregation. They need to see her in pain.”
“Fine, be a dick,” Nicole grumbled.
“Just because you’re empathetic, doesn’t mean I have to be.”
“I think you’re just pissed because you’re leaving tomorrow and don’t get to watch her cringe as you fuck her,” Oberon muttered. “If you’d like, Nicole could use that strap on she loves so much and tape the entire thing.”
“No one else gets to play with her,” Mr. Wrightworth said. “She’s still following the contract, it works in favour if something goes wrong. Then she’ll get the payout and maybe we can buy her a little cottage on your lake, Oberon. Then you can talk about other people playing with her.”
“Oh, a neighbour,” Oberon said with a smile. “All right, I won’t suggest playing with her again. Can you at least make her wear a vibrating plug and—why are you sniffing at the air, Nicole?”
“I
think she’s bleeding.”
“I’ll get your kit,” Oberon said, then left.
Mr. Wrightworth reached down and dragged me to my feet. He pushed me against the same surface he had thrust me against while he struck me. He lifted my skirt and made an annoyed sound before he pulled my underwear down carefully.
I peered around the room as the two of them talked quietly about the damage done.
Several of the rooms in the church had been made up to be discipline rooms. That was just such a room. There were items hanging on the walls that one might find in a regular church, but there were also wardrobes, filled with play items, which were locked.
Mr. Wrightworth and every founding member had access to those wardrobes. He could have tied me up and done whatever he wanted to me, but he had chosen his tie and belt.
I realized the discipline had been personal, that he had truly been angry. If he had just been annoyed, he might have stopped and considered the toys.
“She’ll have to wear a scarf until that marking is gone,” Nicole muttered, then sighed loudly. “You know better than to do that. She doesn’t wear that sort of thing generally, it’ll be suspicious.”
“I’ve arranged for her to have the next week off. I don’t want her to run into any trouble while I’m away. Just ice cream and treats and staying in her room.”
“How did you get that past them?” Nicole asked as Oberon returned.
“They want to wrap up the review, and I may have accidentally let slip that she’s still obsessing about him, that she might stress out too much about it winding up and end up hurting herself unless I’m there to watch her. They’re paranoid and don’t want to risk it.”
“Oh, so that weighed in on your decision,” Nicole said pointedly.
Mr. Wrightworth hesitated, then said, “Yes, yes it did.”
“Sure it did,” Oberon said, setting Nicole’s bag by my head. “You only beat someone bloody when they really piss you off.”
“I’m just going to apply an antibiotic cream and then put a loose bandage. You did a number, so...” Nicole sighed. “I can’t exactly place a bandage on damaged flesh, so, sorry Darling, but you’re going to end up wearing a giant patch to keep blood off your dress.”
“Perhaps she will remember this the next time something comes up,” Mr. Wrightworth said. “Instead of going mad, she would, instead, tell me about the problem in private.”
“None of you want to talk about it!” I snapped. “No one wants to talk about what happened. No one has asked me how I got there. Though I would have thought you’d have known, since everything in Nathaniel’s estate was recorded.”
“We didn’t subpoena Nathaniel’s records,” Mr. Wrightworth said.
“Why in the fuck not?” I shouted, or at least tried to. Nicole applied the cream as I spoke and I ended up squeaking off into nothing.
“What good would that do us? Nathaniel has a contract that allows his father to take anything that belongs to him, so we know how you came to be with his father. That’s not the problem, and we need to prove that the contract was never meant to result in what happened.”
“You told me you were the only one who could play with me. He said that this was never to happen. His father even gave him the option of the other one or me, and he chose the other one, but his father took me.”
“He what?” Oberon demanded.
“And it was all recorded,” I said.
“There, ready to go,” Nicole said, pulling my underwear up.
I stood and straightened my skirt as Mr. Wrightworth scowled at me.
“I signed a contract with him that you two discussed, which determined what could and could not be done. Numerous items of which his father did, despite you two saying it wasn’t allowed. He said that if something were to happen, I could play with you and only you. Not even with Nicole. It’s all there, and you just ignore it because, what, you’re afraid you’re going to be outed?”
Mr. Wrightworth was quiet as Nicole giggled.
Oberon made a face and turned away.
“No, I didn’t subpoena his records because I didn’t think we could find anything there that we couldn’t find elsewhere. It’s bad enough that all of Albert’s videos are being viewed by the court, but parading out your most intimate details with Nathaniel? For the whole world to see? That isn’t the sort of thing that I think you deserve.”
“But it will settle it once and for all.”
“I have it settled.”
“It will make certain,” Nicole said quietly to the air between us. “I know you like the challenge, Mr. Wrightworth, but there’s still a chance at this point.”
“This isn’t a game, it’s my life. Do you think I want to go back to that man? To live through that again?” I asked Mr. Wrightworth. “Just get the tapes. I don’t care any longer, and I don’t care if my family sees what went on in Nathaniel’s estate. Why would I? They don’t want me anyway, so it doesn’t matter what they think of me. I haven’t got any friends. No one is going to care really.”
“You think I want that?” Mr. Wrightworth demanded.
“I don’t know, with how you’re behaving it’s hard to tell,” I snapped back.
“I don’t want anyone within his grasp, I want the man in jail, where he can’t hurt anyone else.”
“Then subpoena the damned tapes!”
Chapter Eleven
After Nathaniel’s records had been taken, the review ended within three days. Which meant that by Wednesday I was called in to be told that Nathaniel wasn’t at fault, he hadn’t violated the contract, but that I wasn’t allowed to leave the Program building until after the civil suit was completed. Mr. Wrightworth wasn’t present for the final review, which they apologized for, but they wanted to begin the paperwork necessary to file for back pay and get me on the payroll.
Until the civil suit was settled, I would be treated as a worker. Only after the suit would I be able to ask about the contract and what was going on about it.
Fucking morons.
It also didn’t make sense to me that they still wouldn’t tell me anything. I supposed it had to do with the same reason that Mr. Wrightworth had stated before, that they were afraid Nathaniel’s father would use it against me, to get me back.
That didn’t mean I had to be okay with it, though.
I went to my room, grabbed my stuffed animal and I cried out my frustration. Throughout the months, I had always imagined that at the end of the review, Nathaniel would simply be there to sweep me up and take me back to his estate.
I was wrong.
There was a sudden knock on my door. With a sniffle, I set the stuffy to the side and went to open the door. Nicole stared at me with two bottles of wine in her hands, and a bag hanging off her arm.
“Oh yeah,” she said, pushing her way into my apartment. “They were right. You need girl time. Someone will be by shortly with ice for the wine, and we’ll put on a good movie. I’ve got chocolate in the bag.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked, sniffling again as I followed her back to my bed.
“Movie, uh, blockbuster, let’s try one of those fantasy movies you three like so much,” Nicole said as she sat on the edge of my bed and slid the bag off her arm.
“Nicole,” I said.
“The controllers are having a panic because you came home and started crying, so they contacted me,” Nicole said as she opened a bottle of wine. “So I have babysitting duty.”
“I don’t need a babysitter!”
There was another knock on the door. I yanked open the door and glowered at the woman on the other side.
“Give her the ice, Mary.”
“Can I dump it on her?” Mary snapped back.
“No, give it to her, then go and do like I told you to,” Nicole said in a steady tone.
Mary handed me the bucket of ice and marched away, apparently seething with anger. I closed the door, then stiffened.
Mary was the last grief councilor.
&nbs
p; I returned to Nicole with the ice. She exchanged the bucket for a glass of white wine and smiled sweetly at me. I sat and sipped the wine, grimacing.
“I know, it’s better cold.”
“Why is she upset?” I asked.
“I’ve begun the process of releasing her,” Nicole said, placing the opened bottle of wine in the bucket of ice. “She lacks a certain something. I’m surprised she kept my interest this long. Being here tonight is an excuse not to spend it with her.”
“Why not just break up with her?” I asked, having another sip of wine.
“Because, I want her to do it herself, to give her some independence,” Nicole said. “If I break up with her, it’ll just be like Mr. Wrightworth and N-anybody he’s ever had as a sub. Myself included.”
“You dragged out the ‘n,’” I snapped.
“How much wine is it going to take to keep you from asking about that again?”
“Probably both bottles.”
It took both bottles.
It also took viewing the tapes years later for me to remember. At the time, I’m pretty confident I was just wondering why Nicole was referring to herself in the third person.
We watched the movie, I drank. A lot. And Nicole tucked me into bed after both bottles of wine were emptied. We talked the entire time, though I have absolutely no recollection as to what and I didn’t watch the whole night, it broke down pretty quickly.
It took me two days to recover, most of which I spent by myself, watching old movies. Nicole visited with food three times a day. It wasn’t until Saturday night that I felt normal again. Sunday I spent the day wandering the building. Monday morning I got up and tried to go to work, only to have the elevator open to Mr. Wrightworth’s floor.
Awkwardly I walked to Mr. Wrightworth’s door and raised my hand to knock.
The door opened, and Mr. Wrightworth seemed to stare through me.
“You aren’t the food I ordered,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse.
He looked haggard, ill even. All but the kitchen light inside his apartment were out, but the light from the hallway made him look far too pale.
