Ashen Master Pt. 02

"Good morning, sleeping beauty." The voice was wry and made my head hurt just to hear it. When I opened my eyes, I looked up at Ivory and because he's an amazing person, he had the blinds closed, and minimal light on. He sat beside the bed I lay on and I had the presence of mind to realize it was his guest bed.

I vaguely remembered deciding to go to his house, to tell him... everything. I remembered how the doorman hadn't let me up to his apartment, how Ivory had been forced to come down to get me. I remembered staggering when he did, so that he had to catch me before I fell, remembered his whispered, "What the hell? Are you high and drunk, Ash?"

And then I remembered answering, "I killed dad, Ivy. Do you think she was my punishment for doing it?"

I flinched at the memory. "Well, shit."

Ivory chuckled lightly. "Here, man. Drink this and take these." He held out a bottle of Powerade and two pills. One I recognized as an aspirin and the other I glanced at warily.

"Um, what's that one?"

"Well, since you're already down the experimental drug route, I thought a light dose of that might help you out for the conversation we're getting ready to have. It's a tranquilizer, little brother, because you have some answers to give me."

I sighed and sat up in the bed, wondering how it came to be that I was in Ivory's hands while he took care of me for once. Usually, I had ended up with Ivory sleeping in the back of Sulfur's, collapsed after he was on some emo shit from how dark he liked to play. Always before, it was me waking him up with gentle words of how nothing was wrong with him, and how he obviously had a conscience.

And now here I was. In his guest room. And oh God, the door guy. I drained the Powerade, took the aspirin and light dose tranquilizer. "So how does this stuff feel? The OxyContin last night was super weird. Does this do the same thing?"

He laughed. "You know, it's questions like that one that made me the most scared about what happened last night. I have never seen you take a single drug, or pick up so much as a beer. Not one, Ash. What did you end up drinking, by the way? Whatever it was, you sucked at handling it."

I flinched. "Yeah. It was whatever stuff you drink. It tasted like hell."

He leaned back with a grin. "Only if you're not used to fucking liquor, little brother."

I stared at him and then down at my hands. "Oh. Oh, that's what this stuff feels like. How fascinating. I imagine this would be more addictive than the painkillers, for most people. All the emotions are dulled out and easier."

"Great, now I can play psychologist. So what happened to you as a kid, Ash? This might shock you, but it was very easy for me to believe that you killed dad. I didn't know him, but I know you, and I know that you have always seemed hollow or something. No one can ever look you in the eyes for long, because there's something missing. So, when you said that in a drunken haze, it was pretty easy to believe you. What happened, Ash? I'm your fucking brother. Whatever it is, I'm going to take your side. And, while we're at it, who is the 'she' you keep talking about?"

I opened my mouth and the words just started. The walls were gone now and it felt like I had shed a skin. It felt kind of like a wound that was scabbed over and accidentally been ripped open again. It was a feeling that hurt like hell and felt raw, but also felt kind of good. The sensation from the tranquilizer made everything easier, and once it started pouring out, it was like a dam bursting wide.

I told the whole horror story, about a father who had a, shall we say, illegitimate job. I told about the late night drives across state lines that seemed innocuous, told about the way violence seemed to flood like a poison into our dad, told how his boss liked him that way and encouraged it. I told about how he was turned more and more mean, like a dog pushed into brutality, told about how I never really blamed him. No, I always felt a deep sadness and fear of him, for how he was so volatile and so unstable. Alcohol was his best friend first and foremost, which probably had bearing on why I wouldn't touch most substances, for fear of losing control. I told about my first pet puppy and how he had been killed in a rage. And I told about how I finally turned old enough to realize what the late night drives were, finally turned old enough to realize that the drunken violence was going to end my life if I didn't do something and do it quickly. The breaking point was when he fell out of favor with his boss, and every second was torture. Russians were not exactly the most trusted, and he had done one too many drugs, so the paranoia made him into a screaming nightmare.

Killing him had always felt more like a mercy than anything else. I had done it silently, when he was asleep one night. It was only after I realized he had talked himself into the thought of murdering me, before someone else got to me. I don't know that he ever would have done it, but I did know my mother's sudden disappearance wasn't innocuous, so he might have been capable of it by that time. The act had definitely broken something in me, definitely made me realize that I had done something akin to selling my soul. Murder was the ultimate disconnect from humanity, even when done in desperation. No one would ever know or suspect that it was me, given my dad's known past affiliations. No, all anyone found was a traumatized teenage boy who was quiet, but brilliant. I kept my head down in all things, and played the victim card for the first and last time in my life. And I made a deal with myself.

I had broken a rather terrible legal line and there was a danger in doing that. Like any depravity, it would be so easy the second time and a time after that. I had gotten away with it and that feeling was, horrifically, pretty powerful. So I swore I'd be good. I never felt much of anything anymore and it was easy to get through life.

And at that part I smiled ruefully, while Ivory and I took another drink from a bottle together. This time, I was in moderation with it. He watched me and tilted his head at the change in my expression. "It wouldn't be much of a story if I got to keep that control, I suppose. Maybe you can guess what happens next, based on what you've heard. I met her."

————

"Holy shit." The second time it was Ivory's turn to say it. Somewhere in the middle of talking, we had ended up on his balcony. We hadn't drank much, and I especially hadn't with the tranquilizer I had taken. I wanted enough sensibility to finish the story and Ivory turned out to be correct. Moderation was a good word. "Fuck me, Ash, why the fuck wouldn't you tell me this? You've been through, like, actual hell."

I laughed. "Honestly, I didn't think it would feel this good to tell someone. And it was in the past and a dead thing that was settled. I didn't think you needed that shit in your life, in your head. Why would I bother you with it?"

"So it could make you feel not fucking alone, that's why! I'm your brother. Jesus... Think he's the reason why we're both violent fucks?"

I snorted at that. "Fuck no." I thought about the words before I said them. "His was a way different kind of violence, Ivy, a guilty kind. The two things aren't even in the same sphere."

"Ah. I just wondered." To be fair, I could see why he would wonder that. "And... Ash, I think your girl might come back to you."

I rubbed my forehead. "Why do you think that? Because... I don't." Which was what was killing me if I was being honest.

"Well." He leaned back in his chair, having taken the day off to deal with my bullshit, because he was awesome like that. "Because if you think her running was entirely your fault then, no offense, but that makes you the most narcissistic fuck alive. It sounds like she doesn't even know what she meant when she talked about disappearing, or what was missing for her. I think she'll come back because... because I think she has to figure that out so she can tell you. Also, you're kind of adorable when you're in love."

I threw a cup at him and he laughed and I had to grin, feeling alive again. Maybe Ivory was right. Maybe I just needed to wait and hope, as the Count of Monte Cristo would say. And he had ended up with Haydee the slave, so maybe there was a chance I would end up with mine.

————

Jezebel

My life for a few weeks was a haze. Not the acute, wonderfully focused, lustful haze that my Master had given me, either.

Don't think about him.

It was a bad, bad haze instead. I switched my drugs as I needed to, since classes had started back. I would go through the lectures in a downer spell, sitting in the back sometimes so I could drink and hide it. And once my homework piled up on me, I would switch to Adderall and burn through the work in a focused kind of haze. Though it still wasn't the controlled type of focus that my Master gave me.

No. Stop it. Don't think about him.

And then I was back to being down. I would do awesome work and turn it in miserably, with no pride in it, because it still wasn't my best work. I wasn't at my best and even not at my best, I was still academically amazing. But, my Master wouldn't have let me settle for that.

He's not here. Stop thinking about him!

I vaguely remembered switching apartments with my roommates' friend, vaguely remembered passing out someplace different, showering someplace different. For a while, I would see him around, looking for me probably. And I would hide like a rat, too scared to have an adult conversation with him. I had hurt him, I knew, and maybe that meant I deserved this feeling of pain. But staring at the sun that day with him had been like waking from a dream-

You mean like this is a dream?

Had been like realizing the happiest moments of my life were lies-

You mean like this is a fucking lie?

Had been like raising above foggy waters that I could drown beneath-

You mean like you're drowning now?

Weekends were a nightmare-

What are these razor cuts?

Started to get worse-

You're going to die.

Started to get unbearable-

There's a cure and you won't take it.

Started to get dangerous-

Let me help you, kotik.

And then, I finally broke and I couldn't even remember what I had taken, couldn't remember the cocktail. All I knew was that I was suddenly standing in front of a very familiar door, and I couldn't remember how I had gotten there. I raised my hand to knock and fell to my knees instead. I vaguely remembered crawling to the side of the wall, in the back alley, and curling up, cuddling in my jacket. I wasn't where he was, but maybe this was enough, to just be near that dark world where everything made sense. Maybe I would start to make sense again. I laughed softly, with my eyes closed, and remembered telling him it had felt like I was disappearing.

I had been lying and now I knew what disappearing felt like. It felt like curling up on that wall, as a shadow of the person I had been. It felt like hurting the most loving person I had ever met. Goddamn him and how wonderfully amazing he was.

I don't know how long it was before someone touched my shoulder, and I heard a voice that wasn't his. I growled at it to go away and rolled over, tugging on the cheap pleather collar I had taken to wearing for comfort. That voice spoke again, but I was halfway back asleep, and only dimly aware of someone telling me it was too cold at night, and this was bad. That voice could go fuck itself. I was so freaking tired from being scared all the time.

I growled again when I was tugged to my feet, forced up with my arm around someone's shoulder. And then there was another voice. "What the fuck?"

"I don't know who she is, but ask Ash what to do."

There was arguing and I wished they'd all just shut up and leave me alone to my misery, because I'd hurt the one person who had ever actually liked me for me, and deserved it.

But then it was all erased, washed away, because I heard that voice, his voice. And he was cooing above me. "Kotyonok," he whispered. And he spoke a sentence in Russian. I had spent most of my free time, while drugged, learning that Rosetta Stone course. Somehow, it had stuck this time because I whispered back in Russian. Something about me being crazy.

He laughed and lifted me and finally, finally, I was back in the arms of that wonderful demon, the only person I had met so far who wouldn't put up with my bullshit, who would keep me secure from myself.

————

I groaned awake, already knowing where I was. I felt too safe, too wonderful, and there was only one place that made me feel like that. I opened my eyes and looked out of the bars of my cage. But then I frowned because there were bars and it was a cage, but the view was wrong.

And there was someone else with me. My cage was not big enough for two people to cuddle so comfortably. It took me a minute to piece it together, but I realized I was asleep under his huge sex bed.

And he was with me. I rolled over to look at him and he was already awake, smiling at me. "Good afternoon, Pet."

Once again, I did exactly what the old me would do. I burst into tears and launched myself back into the safety of his arms. "I miss my Master!" I wailed it, letting out all the terrible pain and loneliness and sorrow that had taken hold of me in one cry.

He tsked and chuckled, cradling me. "Such an emotional little slave. It's alright. I'm here and I've always been here. You never have to leave again, if you don't want to."

I sniffled pathetically against his chest. "You promise?"

He laughed above me. "Pet, so... here's the thing. After you showed up like that, I- Ah, I did something bad."

There was something in his voice that made me scared, just a little, some note of remorseful guilt. When I looked up at him, he glanced back and almost flinched. "W-what do you mean?"

"I couldn't let you go again. I don't know what it is about you and your crazy antics, but I can't just let you run again, not without some mark of mine." That's when he lifted my hands and I blinked down at my wrists.

Each one had a seamless black circlet wrapped around it. I twisted one and studied it and found no clasps, no release.

"They're called eternity bands," he said softly, lifting my fingertips to touch my neck, so that I could feel the one there. "They're very discreet, but they don't come off easily. Please don't hate me, Pet, but I'm keeping you and loving you whether you want me to or not."

My crying intensified and I burrowed into his embrace, though I couldn't really get much closer. I sobbed and started pouring out with everything. "I'll never hate you and I couldn't ever hate you and I miss you so much, Master, and I miss showing you movies and things and I miss flirting with you and cuddling with you most of all and I think that's the one thing I'll miss most when I'm your slave and - and - and I miss my Master!"

He pulled away from me to stare into my eyes with a look like I had struck him. "That's what I missed! God, how could I have been that blind..."

I sniffled and stared into his deep, soothing eyes, so cold that they tamed me. "What do you mean?"

His expression was changing, turning into something lighter, his mouth curving upward into a grin of excitement. "I've been wondering all this time where I went wrong, Pet, because you said you felt like you had disappeared. I had thought I was filling all of your needs. When I took you out of the dungeon, you had company. When I spoke with you about the books you had chosen, you had mental stimulation. You weren't stagnant, and I didn't leave you alone or bored long enough to let your mind get too cluttered.

"But then you said you'd disappeared and that's an interesting choice of words, isn't it? I had already known that what I was doing, while hotter than hell, was borderline brainwashing you. I'm not exactly a moral person, but I was trying to be careful about it because I loved those date nights too, Jezebel. I loved them more than anything, and I never wanted to erase you or suppress all of that crazy personality." He stroked a thumb under my eyes and I tilted my head, not entirely sure what he was talking about, but having a vague idea. As intellectually brilliant as I was, I was exactly as emotionally stupid. I couldn't remember emotions to save my life, but I did remember the words I had said and the fact that they had felt real when I first said them. But then I had felt an actual disappearance over the past few weeks and now, in the wake of that, I couldn't remember the other disappearance. "Look, will you let me try again, Pet? And this time, you're not allowed to run when it's scary or when I mess up because, despite your romantic fantasies, I'm not perfect and I'm only human."

I curled closer to him. "I don't think I can live without you, Master. Can you fix me?"

He laughed and cradled me. "Lovely kotik. There is nothing in you that needs to be fixed. There is something that needs to be filled and satisfied, but nothing that needs to be fixed. Come on. Let's take a bath together. You've ruined your lovely hair and I need to fix it. And then there's all these scratches and all these wounds. Let me be Master again and let me get to work. For right now, that's where we'll start, little Holly Golightly."

It wasn't a choice and I crawled out of the cage after him, taking his hand when he held it out. When he tugged me into his arms, he tsked over my hair and stroked it back. I had taken scissors to parts of it, I remembered, on a bored spur of the moment attempt to cut the locks. I remembered an irritation when I looked in the mirror and saw how glossy he had made me look, how he had pampered me into a well groomed Pet at his knees. Already that thought made me wet again, for how good he was at taking care of me.

He didn't take me to the slave bathroom either, which I partly expected. After showing up drugged and shivering to death on his doorstep, and after he had shown me the eternity collars, I partly expected him to drag me to the dungeon, to start a new version of training that involved my school and classes. So I squeaked in delight when he took me to the bathtub, instead.

He smiled at the response. "You seem like you could use a friend and some decadence for the moment, Pet. Come here and get in." He was ever the Master, ever the caretaker, and his touch was gentle when he smoothed his shampoo and conditioner into my hair. He poured water over me and washed me down, with the touch of all of his routines.

After that was his haircut. He stroked his hand down my hair and went to work evening the locks, until they were as perfect as he needed. My hair was a hell of a lot shorter afterwards, though, and he tsked again. "Sorry, Pet. I tried to keep as much as I could, but you must have razored some of it."

"It's okay. I was high and my hand kept shaking, actually."

To which he shook his head and sighed. "Come on. Bend over the bed so we can both feel better."

I swallowed nervously, but I obeyed, staring at my strange little delicate cuffs, and feeling a little surreal. I turned around to watch him come back with the belt and whimpered, but I fell into the role like I had been born for it, fell back into the rules and the position with all the need I had felt for weeks now. "What is this for, kotik?"

I sighed into the bedspread, my legs spread so wide and my hands clasped behind my neck. "Because I ran and went back to being bad without talking things out with you first." And then, because I really had missed him and this was really where I wanted to be, I looked over my shoulder at him, with a slightly bratty grin, while he rubbed an all too familiar oil into my asscheeks. "And there is no playing under the influence at Sulfur's."