Emma's Master Ch. 04

He pulled back slightly and retrieved something from his pocket as I tensed over the countertop.

I screamed when he pulled my ass cheeks apart and spread something cool on the spot between them.

"NO! NO absolutely not!"

"Yes Emma, I am going to fuck you here. I've been meaning to ever since you came back. It's not going to be comfortable at first but you know I won't hurt you. You just need to relax and trust me." He ran a hand down my back.

Trust him! Was he out of his god damn mind! I reared back against him and desperately attempted to wrench myself out of his grip, "No Jack, I won't let you."

He sighed and reached for something behind him, "I had a feeling I might need these." He gripped my flailing hands easily and clicked something soft but metallic to them. The cuffs, I realized. I had had little desire to be reintroduced to this particular instrument of control. He swiftly looped the cuffs over a hook on the wall opposite me. I attempted to in vain to raise my wrists from it but I was stretched too far.

I was letting out small sounds of distress but he did not start in again right away. "Shhhh" he was rubbing up and down my back and sides and despite the fact that I knew this was the same man that intended to hurt me soon, I was starting to calm slightly.

I arched rigid when his slick finger came back to my asshole but he kept rubbing my lower back and saying, "just relax, baby. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Easy for you to say," I mumbled and gasped as his finger slid past the opening and up inside me.

"Perhaps." He slid his other hand back around to my front again and started to lightly brush over my pussy while his finger moved in and out of me from the other side. I groaned and he rubbed me a little harder as he pressed a second finger inside of me and continued stretching me.

It had been some time since I had done this and I was naturally apprehensive at the prospect. I had not entirely disliked it when Jack had done this before. In fact, my prior reactions to this treatment would be difficult to define as anything near dislike but it required a certain relinquishing of power I was still slightly uncomfortable with.

I was grateful that Jack took his time at least, headful of my fear and recent inexperience. He was in no hurry as he built up to three fingers before presenting his cock head to the small hole. He was still stroking down my side and playing with my pussy.

"Okay Emma, we're going to take this slowly, ok?"

I whimpered and he kissed the side of my neck.

As he drove into me steadily I tried to pull away but that only pushed me more firmly onto his fingers at my clit and I groaned.

When he was fully seated inside me I felt him still and wait for me to get used to his bulk. It was a strange sensation and it burned and ached slightly but I found the feeling coupled with his hand at my slit easing into a satisfying throb.

When he started to move I drew in a breath and he cupped a breast and strummed a finger over the nipple, "you feel so fucking good, Emma."

I couldn't believe I was submitting to this as I felt my arousal go up a notch and writhed against the counter.

"Do you like my cock in your ass Emma?" I almost rolled my eyes at his arrogance but I was too turned on.

"Yes, sir," I managed as he rolled his hips back into me and tapped at my clit.

My fingers were digging into my hands still confined in the cuffs as I gave in to the familiar flood of all consuming need he brought out in me.

He brushed back my hair and whispered in my ear, "are you getting ready to come baby?"

He rocked out again and I let out a sharp sound, "oh please, yes sir. Please may I come?"

I felt his tongue brush over my ear as he pushed back in and said, "soon."

He fucked me for a few more minutes like this until I was losing my mind with the need for release before he finally said, "ok come, now. I want to come while you squeeze your asshole around my cock."

I shouted my climax into the kitchen walls while he yelled, "fuck!" and I felt him spend deep inside me.

Neither of us moved for a full five minutes. I was covered in perspiration and my mind was still floating somewhere near the ceiling.

When he finally slid out of me he stroked a hand through my hair again and said, "well that was worth the wait." I couldn't exactly refute that, I thought.

He unlocked the cuffs and rubbed my wrists but I was mass of endorphins and didn't even care anymore that I was standing completely naked in the kitchen.

"You okay?" He watched me.

"Yes," I whispered.

"Do you want me to help you wash up? You look a little unsteady."

Oh boy did I ever have to pull it together I thought.

I straightened and attempted to focus my eyes on his, "no, I'll be fine."

He grabbed my chin and held my gaze for a second before he said, "ok baby, go ahead. But come back soon. I'm starving and if Marshall isn't back in the next half hour I'm going to just go ahead and whip up something myself."

I couldn't repress a look of amusement as I pulled my shorts back up, "you're going to cook?"

He contemplated this with a frown, "well, I'm going to reheat probably."

I smiled despite myself. Jack had always been useless in the kitchen, "Ok, I'll be sure to come back shortly to marvel at your culinary prowess."

His mouth curled up on one side and he swatted me on the behind, "go get in the shower smart mouth."

I started toward the door before I remembered, "Leon came by today."

His lips tightened, "Did he touch you?"

"No, Marshall was here."

"Good." That was it?

"He's awful, Jack. Psychotic."

He looked at me closely before he said, "I did not choose him, Emma."

"But you stay here with him."

His whole body tensed and I could not read the look on his face, "shower. Now."

Yes, a regular fountain of knowledge. ______________________

When I emerged again twenty minutes later, refreshed and slowly coming back to myself, I heard the shower running in Jack's room. He must have given up on his notions of cooking dinner himself I thought with relief. I went to root around in the fridge and see if I could maybe find something I was capable of cooking when for the second time that day I was caught completely off guard by unexpected guests.

There, standing in the living room, were five police officers, fully decked out in SWAT gear and leveling their guns at me. I let out a strangled scream and heard the shower go off in the other room. One of the men put a finger to his lips and motioned for another to move in the direction of the shower. I was confused. What were the police doing here? In Grady Park? This did not bode well.

"Emma what--?" I turned to see Jack dressed only in sweatpants and rubbing a towel through his hair.

When he saw what I was looking at he put down the towel and calmly surveyed the intruders, "gentlemen, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

When they did not lower their weapons he moved closer to me and said, "are those absolutely necessary? Do either of us look like we are concealing firearms? Or perhaps you're afraid Emma will overpower you with brute strength?" I felt his hand at the small of my back and wondered that I was more afraid of these police officers than the man who insisted on calling me his slave.

The man in front gave a signal and the guns were lowered, "we're here to bring you in Cannon. Your girlfriend as well." I almost laughed at the term.

"Well why don't you get to it then? No point hanging around here threatening unarmed girls with assault rifles is there?"

Jack had a way of regaining power in powerless situations that often left his attempted aggressors off balance. I almost felt bad for the officer as he struggled to reassert his authority and nodded, "put your hands behind your back."

He did and they cuffed us both, leading us out to a cruiser parked outside the house. I looked at Jack after we were secured in the back seat but he only nodded at me as if to say everything was fine. I guessed this wasn't quite the new experience for him that it was for me.

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When we entered the buzzing station I glanced at Jack briefly but again he was unworried. I knew as well as he that if I meant to get away from him (and despite my recent concessions, they did not detract from the fact that I could not remain a slave, marked as chattel for eternity) this was not the place. This whole operation smacked of some overeager officer, committed to making a place for himself. I recognized too many of the faces in this station, though. Too many knowing eyes behind those desks.

We were separated and led to different interrogation rooms. When I was directed to a featureless, sterile room, a police officer followed me inside and introduced himself as Officer Johnson. I knew right away that this was the officer who had organized the raid. I could see it behind his eyes and in the way his fingers tapped against his pants.

He sat down very officially and licked his finger as he flipped open a file and spoke as if this were the first time he were reading it.

"Emma Tanner. Formerly of Pembroke Heights, Pennsylvania. Parents deceased. Two years at Harvard. First appearance in Grady Park approximately seven years ago. Known associate of Cannon's during that time until disappearance five years ago.

He put down the file. "We thought the bastard'd killed you Emma."

He waited and I wondered if he expected a response. What could I say to that? No I am not dead. I am sitting here across from him unmurdered. This should be enough.

He was, however, undaunted by my silence, "Look Emma, I'd rather not mince words here." He schooled his features until they were very serious and I waited. I was not a fan of "mincing words," either.

"We know the nature of your relationship with Jack Cannon. We've known for some time what goes on there."

Was I supposed to be surprised? Didn't most of the police department know? What else were they paid for?

I knew how I must look to him. My face was still bruised from Tilson's attack the day before and even though I'd showered I was sure I had not managed to completely wash the smell of sex away. It was too much of a cliche so I did not even bother to try and disabuse him of his assumptions.

He saw my mind wandering and slid his coffee forward, hunching down to look in my eyes in a way that said he had done this before. He had seen it somewhere perhaps. Another cop. On TV. And now he hunched forward when he spoke. I am the Police he wanted me to know with this gesture. The existentialists would say here is the very nature of despair.

"He is a very bad man." He attempted now to look even more serious with a hint of sympathetic concern. It was very obvious and almost comical.

Was Jack a good man? Was he a bad man? I was tired of this question. I had asked it myself before I had thought better of it. These were words with little meaning. I thought now that if you spend too much time dwelling on one or the other you will miss the real thing that is really there. And that of course is the danger of despair.

He seemed to think I should react a certain way to him and was perhaps disappointed that I did not. When he had sat down. When he had composed himself across from me he had meant to set in motion a progression of events that would all be very predictable. He would be the Sympathetic Cop. I would be the Traumatized Victim. It would take time. He would have to be very patient. But eventually he would convince me to trust him and I would relax in a torrent of useful information. And all the Bad Men would go to jail. They would threaten me of course. But I would not be afraid because he would promise to protect me.

But it was no use because I had seen through him. The way he leaned back in his chair. The way he stuck out his foot. He did not know himself and I could not indulge him. So I looked at him and said, "am I going to be here long?"

I had not meant to offend but he looked annoyed at my inability to cower and I could see that he had already decided to change his direction. I could see in his eyes that now he thought I must be Too Traumatized. That I must have Stockholm Syndrome. Now he must try something else. His eyes became very hard and he drew himself up.

"Now listen here, Ms. Tanner. If you can not cooperate with us I will be forced to charge you as an accessory." It was all very sad, I thought.

"To what?"

"Excuse me?"

"To what am I an accessory."

He cleared his throat, "well, murder, kidnapping, racketeering, bribery, the list goes on." He was checking them off on his fingers as if he must reach a certain number.

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"I don't think you will."

He ran his hand through his hair in frustration and slammed it down on the table. He expected me to jump but I did not. Again the flicker of disappointment.

I almost felt bad for him. That I should apologize. "I'm sorry but I don't think I am an accessory to those things and I don't think you will charge me."

He was unprepared for the way things had turned and I wondered how long I would have to sit here until he would be satisfied.

In the end he could not find a predetermined course of action that gave the affect he sought and I was released to a hard seat in a long corridor.

"Can I take you home?" Home?

I looked up at the young officer standing in front of me, "I think your boyfriend's going to be a bit longer."

"He's not my-- Oh."

"Could you drop me at the train station?" I said, as if this were something I could say. I was very convincing, I thought. As if I am always asking to be dropped at the train station.

Of course, then I remembered, I did not need to convince him. He had meant to ask where he should drop me and he had meant for me to answer. It had felt so long since I had known the breadth of possibility in such a moment. I had anywhere at my fingertips and I had only to reach out and brush my palm against it, say, "yes I will go here" and I would go there. I would go to the train station. I would find someone kind to help me, and I would get on the train and I would watch Boston and Jack grow smaller and smaller from an ever-growing distance.

So I followed the kind officer out of the station and across the parking lot and into the patrol car. "I am leaving," I whispered to the city as I watched it fly by in a different light than when I had entered it not so very long ago. Now I could say, "oh could you stop here, I hear they have excellent coffee" or I could say, "do you know, I think I will get out here and walk." Of course, I did not say these things but I let the thought roll around in my mind and savored it.

_______________

It was late in the evening when we arrived at the train station and I thanked him for the ride. Rush hour had subsided and there was only a handful of very busy people going to some place or from some place that was very important.

I looked up at the board above the ticket agents and watched the flashing cities and towns crackle and blur into one another, fighting for purchase among the shifting destinations and wondered if I could pick one. Where should I go? Where should I go now?

Because I had slept in my car next to the Redwood Forest, I had shouted into the Grand Canyon, I had gone swimming in a cave in Colorado where the light glittered and refracted off the walls and I had stood in front of a cabin over the Blue Ridge Mountains watching dusk descend like flurried silk. And all that while I had smiled and said, "he is not here! I have gone away and he is not here!"

But of course, from far away then it would grow louder and it would come back to me in echoed alleyways, long highways, a lake as wide as the sea. "He is not here!" They would say. "He is not here."

And I would look out over mountains, forests and cities and wonder that I could not even see if they were beautiful if he was not there to see that they were also beautiful.

I was not sure how much time passed in front of those blinking cities as I felt the years of despair stretching on before me. I could go to Paris or Alaska or the Rocky Mountains but they would all be the same. They would all be without him. And I could see my life ahead of me without him and knowing all the time I was without him. I would be no better than Officer Johnson.

"The ocean?"

I almost sobbed in relief.

"Where do you even have to go, Emma?"

That great empty nowhere came rushing back in my ears. "Nowhere!" I sobbed. "I have nowhere!"

He sighed, steering me away from that diabolical board and to a secluded bench as he sat down next to me, lifting my chin up to him. "Emma I will say this and I will not say this again so you need to listen closely." He seemed to be attempting to compose his thoughts.

A bum was moving along the sparse collection of travelers scattered around the station.

Jack moved his hand to my thigh. To the place where his mark had been etched into my skin.

"You see this. I know you've been trying to strip it of meaning. To make it one less thing that binds you to me but---" The bum was encroaching on the small territory he'd secured for us in what seemed to be our own personal dark corner. I could see the flicker of annoyance in his eyes as he turned his head slowly to the man.

Something in his stare must have given the guy pause because I could see the sudden struggle in him to either run or kneel to this new regent of the train station. He decided on hurried retreat and I almost smiled when Jack turned back to me as if nothing had happened, squeezing my upper thigh again.

"What this meant when I gave this to you is not only that you belong to me, and my position on that hasn't changed," he looked at me sternly, "it hasn't. But you see, it is also that you belong with me. Do you understand?" I didn't exactly but I had the impression for the first time that he was speaking to me. To the me that was me, and I didn't want to stop him.

He ran a hand through his unkempt hair quickly, unintentionally dislodging a lock of it to fall down over his high forehead. "You see, the reason I can't let you get on that train. And I'm sorry I can't. Not any train." He held my gaze, waiting for me to argue with him but I was too surprised that he was bothering to explain himself.

"The reason that I can't, is that I know you belong with me. And I can't stand thinking of you out there where I am not for another five years. Not when I know where you belong and who you belong with."

"So yes, Emma, you will always have somewhere to go. It is wherever I am."

I was almost too stunned to speak. In all my years of knowing him and not knowing him he had never said as much. I didn't think even he realized how much he had said.

So I said, "have you ever been to the Blue Ridge Mountains?"

His eyes furrowed, "What?"

"Have you?"

"Yes, they're beautiful."

"Yes."

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-----one more chapter to come....