My contract with him is irrevocable until I find that attorney I fantasize about. It gives him control over my time, my body, my behavior, my nutrition, my education, my financial upkeep, my punishments. In short, I've given him complete control of me.
And he's a sadist.
When I pulled back the curtain and wrapped the thick, fluffy bath sheet around me, I saw that he'd brought in the small bench that sits at the end of the bed to receive clothes cast off before sleep or extra blankets.
"I'm adding this to our morning routine. I've been attending to your health and making certain you eat properly and get adequate sleep. Now I'm going to add something new. From now on each morning after your shower you will climb onto this bench and kneel until I come for you."
It was better than kneeling naked on the tile floor, but everything in me was shaking now. I didn't like this. I also wasn't sure of the next step, so I asked. "Should I kneel there now, sir?"
"Yes."
"Should I keep the towel, sir?"
"No. Pull on your t-shirt."
And I didn't like that either. It only covered me to my hips. But I hung the towel and pulled on the t-shirt and knelt on the bench.
Cole took my face in his hands and kissed my mouth, then without hesitating, said, "Turn around and go to your hands and knees."
I started to tremble in earnest. This wasn't a beating. It wasn't a punishment. It wasn't anything I was used to. It was new and it was in a more intimate place somehow, than his usual room for correcting me.
"Annie." He had started a mental count.
"Please," I said and instantly knew that was the wrong thing. I let my head drop forward and I rose, turned awkwardly on the bench as if somehow stepping down to the floor to turn around wouldn't be allowed. I knelt on hands and knees, my back to him, the way he had indicated.
"Do you know what a Fleets enema is?" he asked.
I sat before I could stop myself. "Please! Please, don't, sir! Please!" The humiliation turned me scarlet, I could just see my face in the mirror which was how I realized I'd started to cry.
"I can see that you do. Please resume the position. From now on, every morning, you will take your exercise, then you will be cleaned inside and out. This is non-negotiable."
We locked eyes. I'd wondered before what would happen if I ever remained completely firm. If I ever said, no, I won't, and stuck to it. Would he turn me out? Would he tell Seattle PD everything I'd done or even part of it? Or would he just send me away to make my own way however I could? Working security at Walmart. Going back to live with my parents. Marrying Mark. That last shouldn't even feel like a failure.
But it would.
I held his gaze for a long time before I dropped my eyes and said, "Yes, sir," and turned and knelt again, then got up to all fours.
He hadn't removed any of the wrapping yet. I was privy to him opening more than one of the things, saline apparently, and he meant for me to have them. I had no doubt he'd done his research on how much was safe to give a person at one time.
I heard the rattle of packaging stop. Felt him move close behind me. In the time I'd been here he'd never touched me there. My breathing became labored, big breaths I dragged in and sobbed out. I heard him snap on a pair of gloves and felt the cold of lube on his finger. He pressed his finger into me, up to the first knuckle and I let out a sob.
He held it there long enough that the lube became warm and dripped out of me. Something happened, then, before he even inserted the first plastic tip. Something changed but I wasn't sure if I was more determined to run or less. Only that I felt less connected to myself, felt more of my old life slide away, felt that he, incredibly, was what I had to hang on to. This man violating me in such a base way.
I cried until he finished filling me and left me to take care of myself.
5
Cole
The more control I take from her, the better.
For me.
Probably for her.
If she thinks she's found someone who can cure her addictions, I'm 99 percent certain she's right.
If she thinks she's found someone altruistically doing so in order to make the cure work and for her benefit?
I'm 100 percent positive she's wrong.
Her tears were luscious.
Her submission when my finger invaded that most secret place was glorious.
I don't think she realized that just before I removed my finger and began to administer the enema, she tightened back up again.
She's gearing up to fight.
Breaking her will be magical.
6
Annie
Tad Charles sounded suspicious when I called. He knew where I was. It had become almost inevitable that someone in Seattle PD would know the truth. He knew what Samuels had done, to some degree, and thought the man a fool.
So did I. A fool I intended to fuck up when I got my life back. It was all I could do not to waste a little time asking him if he knew where Samuels was. Since I was still in Southern Nevada for the duration, it didn't matter.
I was compiling a list of people I wanted to fuck up or maybe even kill, à la Aya Stark, only no one had beheaded anyone I loved.
There was a guard who had watched me strip-searched by a nurse my first morning, after Cole had actually freed me and I'd flailed and failed and found my way back. That guard had watched me strip down and consent to a cavity search that left me sweating, I blushed so hard, nauseated by the invasion. He had sneered and smirked at my humiliation.
I'd sworn I was going to kill him.
And Samuels. For putting me in this position.
What I'd do in retaliation for him saving my life – that I didn't know.
"I can't talk long, Tad. I just." Need to feel some control. Want to know I'll get back to the job someday. Want to talk to somebody still doing what I need to do.
Want a modicum of normalcy in my life for two minutes.
Every time I used the phone it was dangerous. Cole only let me call my father and that was only as a reward for spectacular behavior. Or because I'd become so freaked out of being out of contact that even his reassurances that he'd be notified if my father's health did anything but improve wasn't enough.
"Girl, when are you coming back to the job? We miss your smiling face."
That was a lie. My face was rarely in the office and it didn't smile all that often, either.
"I'm working on it. Look, can you tell me anything that's going down with the Brotherhood? I feel out of touch and I'm having nightmares that the drugs are just flowing through the streets." Unfortunately, that wasn't a lie.
"So you think you're the only one who can make a difference? All right, I get you."
Even the mocking humor was pleasant. I liked hearing it again and feeling like I was a part of that world of automatic mockery and putdowns.
"Well, I don't know how you've survived without me," I said and listened as he agreed, but then sobered.
"Look, you're supposed to be in rehab and I respect the hell out of you for doing whatever it is you're doing and sticking to it. Obviously you are because I don't think any other thing would keep you away. Only if this makes you come back and it's too soon - That’d be on my head."