The Choices of Evelyn Ch. 10-12

"Ah, sweetheart... you are so beautiful... you are... so gentle... mmmmm." At the narrow path that led from the stables to the meadow, a man and a boy saw her with the horse. They watched her caress its shivering skin.

***

Evelyn brought the horse back to its stable, where she groomed its sweat-streaked skin and told him he was the sweetest thing in her life. The horse answered with a nudge of its silken nose, and a twitch of its dancing ears. She knew her affection had been requited.

After giving the horse a bucket of oats and a pail of water, she filled its trough with hay. Then she looked for the boy Sandro, but he seemed to have left. Shrugging, she climbed the long and winding path up to the house, only clad in her knee-high riding boots. She reveled in the horse's lingering scent; it clung to her naked skin.

The big house seemed empty. Evelyn climbed the stairs to her small room, kicked off her boots and fell on the bed, sweaty, smelling – but so very happy. Of course, things were strange; no, they were crazy. She'd been whored out and raped, drugged and abducted. Yet, here she lay, smiling. Women had exposed and manipulated her, ridiculed her, humiliated her. Brutal men had violated her body. But her head was filled with light.

What was wrong with her? Why was she here? Why didn't she mind? Who was this absent woman, M? What about these silly orders – to remove her body hair, to ride a horse, naked? So many questions in her buzzing head. So tired...

The soft pillows on the bed made her dose off.

***

Chapter Eleven – M.

When Evelyn awoke, the sun had passed her window. Dusk darkened the sky. Her body smelled, so she rose and took a shower. When she returned to the bedroom, her bed had been made. There was a chunk of lasagna, some cheese and bread on the small table. There also was a pitcher of water and a glass of red wine. On the bed lay a black object.

Evelyn dried her hair and wrapped it in a towel. Then she sat down and picked up the object. It felt cool and slick to the touch. Maybe it was stone of some kind. A very light kind of stone, or maybe carved bone? It felt organic, warming to the touch. Its form was conic, widening from the tip. Then it narrowed again rather sharply at the bottom where it formed a tiny waist. From there it flared out to a wider flange.

She knew it wasn't a dildo. It was a plug – a butt plug. Oh, blessings of the Internet. She knew it was meant to go up her asshole. She even had seen a few at La So', but those had been cheap plastic ones. This one seemed expensive, well-worn and antique. It borrowed the warmth of her hand; after a while it glowed.

A purple bow attached the thing to a small cream-colored card. Only one word was on it again, in the by now well-known spidery hand: "Use." She turned the thing over and over. Images of her painful night at the penthouse returned – with a vengeance. She felt her sphincter twitch as her muscles involuntary responded.

Evelyn took the purple bow off and walked into the bathroom where she found a pretty little vial of oil. She also saw that the rubber container had been taken off the enema hook. It lay on the bidet with another cream-colored card. "Gina," it said. She hesitated to call her, in her mind adding up the ominous objects, the plug, the oil, the rubber bag... The instruction was clear, her mind wasn't. Should she play along with this weird long-distance manipulation? She never saw the woman. Had she been the one to abduct her? Had Zelda... sold her?

The thought chilled her, almost pulling her out of her body, making her watch herself from the outside. The unknown woman played with her. She said they'd met, who could she be? Lilith? No, please not...

How malicious was she, really? There had been the abduction. Had it been that? Or was it a liberation? And what had really been done to her? Why couldn't she remember? Had she been harmed? There'd been the weird depilation. Was that bad? Moving a hand over her body, she shivered. And the horse? She'd been elated, hadn't she? Memories of the wild ride, the breeze in her hair, the hot sweaty body moving between her thighs speeded up her breathing.

Enema's were rather common, nowadays, weren't they? Fashionable even. Healthy, they say. Evelyn walked back into her room and pulled a cord. It made a distant bell ring.

Gina was all toothless smiles. She mixed a soap solution with hot water, hanging the rubber sac back on its hook. Then she gestured Evelyn to bend over. She slid the well-lubricated tip of the tube slowly past her sphincter, being incredibly tender with it. Maybe five inches of the tube must already have been inside her bowels before Evelyn felt its presence.

Gina pointed out that she should sit on the bidet, legs spread. Then she opened a tap at the exit of the sac. A hot, lovely glow started spreading inside her belly. It took almost a minute before it became less comfortable. And after two more minutes she felt herself on the brink of exploding. Cramps ran through her bowels, forcing her to concentrate like mad to keep her sphincter closed. She moaned. But Gina did not seem to want to close the damn thing yet. Evelyn shot panicked glances at her. The woman had her back towards her. She begged: "Please... please stop!" She'd understand 'stop,' wouldn't she? She didn't know the Italian for it. 'Basta? Finito por favor?' Wasn't that Spanish?

Then, after what seemed like another age, Gina closed the tap. She pointed ten fingers at Evelyn and shrieked: "You wait!" beaming with pride for having found the words. Evelyn understood. She'd have to endure cruel minutes.

The pressure was enormous. She waited, not uttering a sound. Ten minutes later the old woman returned. She slid the tube out of her bowels and Evelyn unleashed an eruption of foaming, dirty waters. The feeling was overwhelming; so was the foul smell. She had no control over her shaking thighs, or over her bladder. Urine colored the foaming swirl with a cascade of gold.

The procedure was repeated. Then the water that left her was as clear as a crystal mountain lake. Evelyn rose; she leant on Gina. Her knees felt weak to the point of collapsing. The woman didn't smile. She took the black plug and blessed it with a lavish gush of oil. Again, Evelyn bent in front of her. Gina took the girl's hands and laid them on her ass cheeks. Evelyn understood. She spread her cheeks with her hands and held them open. By now she didn't even wonder anymore about the shocking intimacy of her stance.

Soon, the tip entered. It gave her no trouble, as it was slippery and hardly thicker than the tube-tip that had penetrated her before. But the woman kept pushing. Now the wider girth of the object started to stretch her entrance. It nudged at the clean insides of her bowels. There was a dull pain from the stretching, but soon a nice fullness spread from between her cheeks. The lubricant made it all wonderfully easy. She felt her sphincter pop and knew it had closed around the narrow waist, locking it safely inside her.

Evelyn stood. She tried to walk, grimacing. The feeling was weird. The stone adapted to her body's warmth now, as it had done to her hand. A delicious glow spread from her bowels to the front. She knew she'd been very wet for a while already. She also knew that just one simple touch of her clit might send her screaming. The craving was overwhelming, but she decided to wait until the woman left.

That night Evelyn came five times. Visions flashed behind her eyes – of riding Votan, speeding through the woods and over the meadows. She felt the exhilaration all over again, sensing the wind, the rise and fall of the mighty body. She smelt his sweat, his passion – and her own.

The orgasms were different from what she was used to. They seemed to build up out of the stone inside her bowels. Then they spread out to her nipples and the hard, little pearl of her clitoris. Each climax ran up an increasing scale of little orgasms, ending in a shattering wave that broke all over her.

It must have been way past midnight when she sank into an exhausted sleep.

***

The next day started as brilliant as the one before. The sky was pure sapphire, the flanks of the mountains a deep green. It seemed as if the last flecks of spring snow on the tops had taken wing, flying off like clouds of white.

Was it the morning or was it she? Meeting Votan had cleansed her head thoroughly – like the enemas had cleansed her body. Her mind was open, her muscles relaxed. She should be cautious, scared even, maybe. But a thrill of expectation electrified each sinew of her body.

From her bed, she saw her breakfast on the little golden table under the window. There was fragrant tea. There were sweet buns, bitter jam, honey, and a giant glass of freshly squeezed fruit. At the center stood a tiny pink rose in a glass. She inhaled the divine aroma of freshly baked bread.

Evelyn rose to get out of bed. As she moved, she felt the new heaviness in her bowels; her muscles automatically tightened around it. With a very tender gait she reached the toilet and relieved her bladder. Then she opened the tap of the shower to enjoy cascades of hot, clear water. All her senses seemed heightened. Her nose smelled things it never smelled before; her tongue feasted on the simple breakfast. Her body responded to the tiniest touch.

Evelyn took out the plug. She noticed how her body resisted. Then she moved her bowels and filled the enema bag with the solution the old woman had used. She didn't know if this was what was wanted of her, she just craved the clean feeling.

The water was clear after the second enema. She did one extra for good measure. It was much easier now. No more cramps, just the sensation of being filled to the extreme – and being light as a feather afterward. She knew she could learn to like this. She might grow a need for it.

When she came back into her bedroom, the first thing she saw was a little instrument on her pillow. Another surprise sending a thrill up her throat. It made her heart flutter. Picking it up, she examined it. It was a lovely designed shaving instrument; a clipping machine or a trimmer. She wondered what it might be for. All her body hair had been removed efficiently the first day she arrived, hadn't it? The accompanying little cream-colored card had as usual only one word to offer. It was concise, but clear as ever. "Head," it said in spidery writing. Massive disbelieve hit her.

She must shave her head? A high-pitched giggle left her lips. Go bald? She? No bloody way! Her copper-colored curls had always been her pride, maybe the one single thing that had kept her upright in the raging storm her life was. No one was going to rob her of that. What did she think, this damned woman? What in this godawful world did the bitch think? And where was she anyway?

As soon as the words formed in her head, Evelyn shrank away from them. The flaring anger took her by surprise. How easy it suddenly seemed to find condemning labels for a woman she'd never met. Or had she? Hot flashes made her tremble all over. Tears ran down her cheeks. Then she put the instrument down, with a trembling hand. Pulling back her shoulders, she tried to ease down her breathing, the racing of her heart. She should calm down; she could, couldn't she? No one could make her do what she didn't want to. The choice was hers.

She picked up the instrument, turning it left and right. It was black and slick, like the plug, fitting perfectly in the palm of her hand. She rose and walked the length and breadth of her bed, looking at the object she'd thrown down again – talking loudly to herself. Why did the woman request it? She'd done everything she'd wanted – the body hair, the enemas. The plug. What was it she wanted? Obedience? Dedication? Hadn't she shown her dedication enough? Humiliation? The bitch was crazy. She didn't have to go along with a crazy, anonymous bitch, did she? She had a home, hadn't she? She could choose to go home, have her own life again. It was a good life. Good!

She picked up the instrument and threw it down again. Then she sank beside it on the bed. She felt betrayed. All her wonderful feelings of the morning slipped away – the energy, the dream, the thrill. Evelyn cried with long, angry wails until all tears were spent. She raised her ruined face and stared out of the window. Both hands propped up her head.

Under the window stood the little table. On the table lay the plug, next to the lovely rose. She stood and picked up the smooth black stone, weighing it. Then she took the clipper in the other hand as if comparing their weight. She was at a loss. She knew what to do and what not, didn't she? She should leave this madhouse. It was easy. But if she did, it would end... all this... the thrill, the wonder. Votan. And for what? Boredom, loneliness...

Did she have to decide now? She needed time. Yes, that was it. She just had to buy time. Things were moving too fast, way too fast. No one could expect her to decide now. Could they? She threw both objects on the bed. Then she slipped into the riding boots and went down the mountain to the stables, smelling a million flowers, feeling the morning breeze kiss her naked body.

The girly boy with the starry eyes wasn't there – what was his name? Sandro, Alessandro. But she found Votan inside. She noticed how her heart jumped when she saw him. She entered and buried her face in his manes. New tears came easily. The horse stood perfectly still as if it waited for her to calm down. Then it turned its head to her, nudging her softly.

"Ah, God, Votan! What does the woman want of me? I don't understand. Why does she treat me like this? I did all she asked, didn't I? I like it here, being with you and all. But this – I can't do this. Never, Votan! My hair, my beautiful curls. Tell me, honey, tell me I don't have to. Tell me the woman is crazy."

Evelyn raged on. Her fists hammered the horse's neck and rib cage. Then she sagged against it and cried again. Her body heaved with sobs. She started kissing the horse, caressing its nose. She murmured sweet little words. Then, discarding bridle and bit, even kicking off her boots, she mounted him bareback and rode out to the meadow.

For the better part of an hour she walked and raced the horse. Taking it down the road they reached the woods. Of course, people might see her naked. She didn't care. She was with Votan, sweet honest Votan – nothing else mattered for now. The black, spreading pool of ink inside her yielded to her new-found, ancient little paradise. She lay down on him, clutching his warm throbbing body between her arms and thighs. The slow swaying movement brought her into a dreamy state. There was a high wind in the trees. The earth gave off its earthy smell. Not a thought in her head reached beyond the next curve of the soft forest path. Not a thought but one. And it turned into a fever.

In the small, secret clearing, she slid off the horse. Hugging its warm body, her hand caressed its belly. His belly.

***

Returning to the meadow, Evelyn saw people by the stables – a man and a boy with a horse. There also was a woman. Evelyn dismounted and walked the last few yards. The woman was tall – a glorious specimen of the blond, athletic perfection she'd hated (and envied) since high school. The man was Gustav; the boy, Sandro, wore dirty coveralls and leather riding boots. His clear eyes sparkled in his tanned face. Evelyn smiled uncertainly, but the smile went unanswered and died on her lips.

In a flash she recognized the blond woman, seeing her sitting in Zelda's silver sports car as she was scolded and beaten by the black woman for not making enough money as a whore. The taste of blood lingered in her mouth.

The woman's lips were a thin slash across her long, Nordic face; her clear blue eyes shone from under heavy eyebrows and a wide, immaculate forehead. She was a Valkyrie, a blond Amazon, dressed in a gray business suit that was cut tight to her muscular body. Her voice was hoarse when she started talking. She told the boy to take Votan. Then she told Gustav to grab the slut. "Slut," she said. He should tie her to the wooden pillar that shored the roof.

Evelyn winced when the man tied her with his leather belt. Her hands were behind her; her elbows hugged the pillar, pushing her naked chest out. It made her perfectly vulnerable. It also shut down her mind. The woman stood very close. Their noses almost touched.

"Ungrateful cunt," she hissed. Her eyes shot sparks of icy blue. "Is it so damn difficult to please me when I'm not around? Did Zelda rip me off, sell me a worthless piece of shit?"

She stood back and slapped Evelyn in the face with her flat hand. Then she stepped closer again, pulling at her hair. Reaching around her, she pushed a hard, single finger into her asshole. Her face was in Evelyn's, hot breath engulfing her.

"Is it so hard to simply obey me, slut?" she asked. "Isn't that what you're good for? To serve me? To find someone who would take care of your miserable, senseless life?" Evelyn said nothing. Her head toiled and spun with unhitched thoughts, a carnival of mocking voices. She hung her head, avoiding the eyes. Carlotta grinned from the deep niches of her memories; Olivia, Zelda, Lilith. Their cackling voices overwhelmed her, cutting off her thoughts as they'd always done.

"Evelyn," the woman whispered through the pandemonium in her head. Her mouth was very close. "You're mine, honey. I bought you. You're nothing. Everything you need, and everything you'll still learn to need, comes from me. For once in your horrible life, you'll be secure, satisfied. Happy. Will you throw that away, just to save your silly hair, your silly pride? My god, honey, stop making choices; you're so miserably inapt at it." The woman stepped back, letting the words sink into the quagmire of Evelyn's mind. "I could help you decide, darling, you know? It's easy. I can have you whipped cruelly for this. You are my property, I have all the right to punish you. And I should, don't you agree?" Evelyn kept silent. The meaning of the words hardly penetrated. "Don't you?" the blonde repeated. Evelyn nodded. "Say it out loud, girl."

"Yes. I agree."

"Agree to what?"

"That you should whip me."

The woman stood silent for a bit. Then she lifted Evelyn's chin with a long-nailed finger and looked straight into her eyes.

"But that would be too easy, wouldn't it, darling?" Evelyn's eyes swam left and right, trying to escape. "Maybe I should ask Gustav here to treat you to a few lashes with the bull whip," the blonde went on. "And then send you packing."

She started walking up and down in front of Evelyn. The girl's chest heaved with sudden gasps. The white of her eyes showed as they followed the woman. A totally illogic panic struck her. Why panic? Shouldn't she be glad to be rid of the crazy bitch? To get as far away from here as possible to be Evelyn again – steady, sane Evelyn?

"No," she whispered. Then louder: "Don't send me away, please." The tall blonde laughed, but there was no pleasure.

"I thought so," she said, stopping in front of the girl. "That would really hurt, wouldn't it, little liar – sending you away? But why? Tell me: why would it hurt? You don't obey me, so you don't really want to be mine, do you? So why feel hurt?" Evelyn's head was in turmoil. Panic made it impossible to think. The word dilemma didn't even begin to describe her predicament. And the woman never gave her a second to regroup her thoughts. Her steely-blue eyes shone right into hers.

"Evelyn," she continued with a sad, low voice. "I know what you think – or rather why you're unable to think. You were raped and abused in your own home. The only one you could turn to, was a pimp, who drugged you, beat you up and sold you. I bought your freedom from the crazy woman. I saved you from the streets and the rapists, from drug addiction and an early death, no doubt, guaranteeing you my protection and a secure life. But you failed. You had to, didn't you? It's how you are. Now, I could cure that. I could beat you back into line, break you forever. But what would be the point?" The eyes turned dark and sad. "It wouldn't make you love me, would it?" she whispered.