He opened his legs wider, making room for me. “Sit back on your calves…” I followed every direction. By the end, I was staring at the floor, my palms facing the ceiling while laying on my thighs. “Beautiful. This is how you are to greet me. Understood?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Rise.”
Between his thighs, I rose to my knees.
“Take it off.”
Tears floated in my eyes as I unclasped the silver from around my neck. I love you, Link.
A bit of my pride became Yury’s property as he placed a collar on me, demeaning me.
I wish I could say that at least Yury was consistent with his daily torments, but his actions were bizarre, always leaving me either demoralized—stripped of any self-preservation—or in a state of confusion.
When my stomach growled, Yury smiled. “Is it time for another price to be met?”
My mouth gaped as I realized I would never receive one thing without paying a price.
Reading my mind, he smiled. “Yes, you will even earn your toilet. Years ago, we learned to remove them. Slaves tend to get very thirsty and would drink from the bowl without permission.”
Every moment that passed, I learned that my situation was even worse than I thought.
Leaving me naked and on my knees, Yury turned off the light and left the room.
In the darkness, my stomach continued to rumble. I didn’t know what to do. Maybe I had no energy to do anything anyways. So, I sat there, in the dark, lost.
The door reopened in mere moments. As if standing by waiting, a man I hadn’t seen yet replaced the lock on my door.
When finished, Yury held up a key in the hallway. “Sleep well, Fire.”
There was no food offered nor a way to earn it.
Screams woke me on and off, causing me to be sleep deprived and in a manic state of mind. I don’t know how many days I was left in the dark before Yury returned, but I was famished and willing to do anything he wanted for food. My eyes squinted as the hallway light poured into the room. Yury entered with his folding chair and a plate of food. I practically leapt from the bed, rushing to my knees between his thighs, my mouth salivating.
“Now, that is how to please your master.” He grabbed a piece of bread from the plate. “Open your mouth.” I did, desperate for food. “Don’t chew ‘til I give you permission.” He placed the bread on my tongue. “As you know, everything has a price. Your price for swallowing is me bringing Link here to be sold.”
Saliva wet the bread as my tears wet my face.
Refusing to close my mouth around the first food I’d had in days, my shoulders shook through my growing hysterics. As malnourished as I was becoming, my heart demanded I put Link’s life ahead of mine.
Perched in the chair as the ruler he was, Yury growled, “Eat it.” He was no longer amused by my dedication to Link. In fact, it infuriated him.
It didn’t matter to me. I refused to swallow.
The bread was removed from my mouth, and Yury left after saying, “You will learn to choose me.”
The next day when he entered with a plate, I rushed to my knees. Before he could threaten me with Link’s safety, I took a daring approach. I leaned forward, resting my head in his lap. When I didn’t receive a smack from his hand, I gently rubbed my cheek to his pant leg.
It worked.
His hand glided through my hair. “This is nice.”
Cheese and bread became tools to be used on the days he bothered to supply any at all, but this simple gesture, rubbing my head against his thigh, was a weakness for him. I would get food placed in my mouth every time I nuzzled. He would praise me for being a good Fire and pet my hair. If I wanted water, I would have to nuzzle him in his private area.
I learned shame is not enough to hold you back when dying of thirst.
“Now that you have eaten, you will be needing a toilet soon.” He gestured to the piping behind me. I waited to hear the price. “Dance for me, Fire.”
My shoulders caved, but I backed away from Yury until my heels felt the drain in the middle of the room. I needed space to feed the beast with my movements that no longer brought me joy. Being a hostage had me deprived of so many things, but dancing for my captor robbed me of an internal safe place. Dancing was my expression of emotions. Yury toyed with those feelings then forced me to expose them through movements.
Solemnly, I danced for the beast…
Yury rested his back against the chair and crossed his arms, already watching my body with an intensity that made me very uncomfortable. To release myself from his glare and inspire dance, I closed my eyes and thought of Link. I did my best to remember his voice as he sung in the shower. As the lyrics from “Time After Time” started to flow through my heart, I moved accordingly. I allowed my wishes, hopes, and prayers to create a dance that was personal. Ignoring that I was most likely being ogled, I let myself get lost…
“Did you ever dance for him like this?” Yury’s eyes were transfixed on me as if I were a Siren. He was a very guarded man, but his stare was showing me a weakness. Link.
So, even though I had just been dancing for the very man he spoke of, I lied and pounced on the exposed nerve, trying to build on it. “No.”
Yury insisted I was fire. It was time to see if I could burn him.
Slowly, I faced him, still dancing in the tiny confinement. “No one but you.”
Yury began to pant. I think he was unaware he was touching himself as his eyes stayed glued to my body. Realizing Yury was truly attracted to me, I tried to use it as leverage. With a touch of seduction, I danced, attempting to lure Yury into desire. It was a dangerous gamble, but if he wanted me, maybe he wouldn’t share. Maybe he wouldn’t sell me to an owner promising death.
I jolted to a stop when he suddenly stood, appearing disorientated, blinking his eyes. Then, without a word, he left the room. He even forgot his chair, but he didn’t forget to lock the door. This was all a sign he wanted me to himself. He was just having a hard time admitting it.
When he returned, I was nervous that I had angered him with my seduction, but a man followed him with a toilet in his grip. Yury growled, “Kneel,” which I immediately did, yet he otherwise stayed quiet and wouldn’t look me in the eye while the man attached the porcelain to the pipes. With my eyes to the floor, I couldn’t see what triggered Yury to step in front of me and scold the man in Russian.
After the man gave a sample flush, he set one half gone roll of toilet paper on the floor, gathered his tools, and was escorted out of the room. Yury shared not one word with me before turning out the light and locking the door. Alone, I stayed on the floor, realizing my stomach was cramping.
It was easy to lose track of time in isolation, but I knew a week had passed because my menstrual cycle had finally ended. The first two days were awful. Yury brought me no water nor food nor feminine products. On the third day, he yelled at me for biting off pieces of my blanket to hold between my legs. I tried to explain, “Master, I ran out of toilet paper—”
He held up a tampon. “This cost you two days without food.” He gestured to the bed. “Lay down.”
I started to tremble. “P-Please let me do it myself.”
“You think your dance went unnoticed?”
My lungs panted as I shook my head, not attempting to lie. “I-I won’t do it again.”