Enslaved by the Pen Ch. 10

As the cool winds of autumn stripped the first of the foliage from the trees, my routinized life seemed even more peripatetic than before. The roots of home, work, and friends that once scarcely bound me, felt unexpectedly brittle. Adam even noticed a change in my demeanour.

"Meli? Do you no longer derive satisfaction from our arrangement?" Adam tentatively approached me one evening.

"No Adam. I enjoy the sex and time with you. I was thinking about my last Master. Our relationship ended abruptly." I snickered at my choice of words. Abruptly didn't encapsulate how my captivity terminated. Nor did the word relationship describe what I experienced. "He wasn't good for me."

"Why wasn't he good for you? Tell me how he hurt you?" Adam's attempts to elicit information about my past were unwavering in their persistence. He knew my moods and emotions and me well enough to recognize the hollowing isolation that plagued me.

In my mind I screamed that Gabe had kidnapped me, kept me captive, punished me, and released me, then returned to taunt me. But he had also introduced me to pleasure I had never known and compelled me to confront desires I had long suppressed. I thought about the emotional toll his abduction took on my sanity. Then I remembered about the pleasure he always provided me and prioritized for me. I recalled how Gabe would wrap a blanket around my shoulders when he saw me shivering. How he would always offer me the last piece of candy to sate my sweet tooth. He never physically hurt me, except when he was punishing me. Somehow, I ended up developing feelings for a fundamentally kind, but flawed individual.

"Oh, I don't know," I was purposefully vague. My mind hadn't processed the depth of emotion I had for Gabe and my nascent feelings for Adam. The two felt suddenly traitorous. It was confusing, and disorienting, and I hadn't the vocabulary to articulate it. "It was nice to have someone to share intimacy with me beyond sex. I know he loved me. I think I cared for him." I patted Adam's hand before I undressed and kneeled before him. "Enough about the past. You're here now. What are we going to do tonight, Sir?" I smiled and winked at him.

What I hadn't anticipated is the kindness Adam showed me when I erupted into tears, no longer able to support myself as I crumpled to the floor. "I don't know why Adam, but I miss the life we had. I miss belonging to him." I sobbed into Adam's reassuring hold. He cradled me gently. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm doing. It wasn't right what he did. It's complicated."

"I don't know who this Master is, or what he did to you, but if he treated you poorly Amelia, that doesn't mean he respected you." Adam's words propped me up.

Adam and I didn't play that night, or any night afterwards. He understood the damage that Gabe had wrought, though unnamed as it was. It was an unrecognized kindness to me. Before he terminated our relationship, he held me and forced me to look in his eyes. "Listen to me Meli, I'm always here for you. Let me support you in exorcizing your demons. All you need do is reach out. But if you refuse to allow me in, I'm at a loss as to how to help you heal what's been disturbing you the entire time we've been together. Adam implored me to share my past. I hadn't the fortitude.

In the intervening weeks, he called to ensure that I wasn't self-destructing. I manifested a convincing enough façade that I was surviving. I appreciated his thoughtfulness but couldn't reach out. I was obstinate and terrified and drowning. I couldn't confront the abyss of darkness that sucked me into its maelstrom, dragging me down into its smothering blackness of despair.

Every night I engaged the mapping program and gawked at Gabe's estate via satellite imagery. Every night I zoomed in trying to locate a different view, a perspective I hadn't observed before. But I had examined every viewpoint. Every pixel had been scrutinized. Gabe was located on the far north end of the city. As I drove down his street, there were few houses, and those that were constructed, were situated on large parcels of land. Ostentatious dwellings serving as testaments to immense wealth passed in my rear-view mirror. I drove past Gabe's estate multiple times before I mustered the courage to stop the car.

I pulled the collar of my jacket close to my nape, capturing the warmth that the howling wind stripped from my body. The freezing rain infiltrated deep within my bones. I peered through the fence's gaps, maintaining a safe distance from its electrification, before slowly walking around the east side towards his house. His mansion was recessed behind the thick evergreens, obscuring it in an afforded privacy. I wasn't sure what compelled me to visit. I convinced myself of Gabe's monstrosity. I detested him for capturing me against my will. Months freed from Gabe's clutches. Months of being independent, capable of my own decisions, and who I bedded. I wasn't beholden to anybody that wasn't of my choosing. Yet, autonomy never felt so restrictive. Months of feeling untethered to a world I once belonged.

The ignition rendered silent from my uncertainty. My initial impetus to barge into Gabe's house and berate him for his inhumanity, to lash out at him for the emptiness that pervaded my soul was an exercise in lunacy. My own deep, ragged, breaths punctuated the stillness of the night. The patter of the rain hit the windshield in checkered splatters as my arms wrapped around my body for stability. I wiped away the gathering moisture at my eyes and attempted to repress the sobbing whimpers of pain I emitted. The horn honked and it was only then that I realized that my head had fallen onto the steering wheel. My hand fumbled the ignition. I wasn't going back. I knew that Gabe's incessant interactions with me were meant to enforce his possession of me. He was inscribing his control over me. I couldn't exist in this liminal space of betwixt and between. As I drove home, I realized that if closure wasn't going to be granted, I would need to manufacture my own. I had connived and schemed my way from under his crushing grasp, but I wasn't free. Gabe needed to be amputated from my life, like the venomous leech I had allowed him to become in my mind. I wasn't his. Tomorrow, he would find out exactly who I was.

"Amelia for Gabriel Magnussen," I informed the receptionist. "I don't have an appointment. He'll see me."

Gabe greeted me at his office door, kissing both my cheeks and embracing me. One touch of a button and the glass of his office frosted, furnishing us privacy. He closed his door and waited. He stared at me, his eyes gesturing downwards, as if expecting that I would kneel before him, as if I came willingly to be his, as if he still controlled me and I wore the collar of his enslavement.

"I'm not yours anymore Gabe. You don't hold power over me. You don't own me."

"No?" Gabe looked at me, amused.

"I found your mansion. You're not as smart as you think you are." I remained standing, rejecting his invitation for comfort. I refused to be cowed. "Why didn't you take accountability Gabe? I know the detective came to question you. You think you can give me money in compensation for abducting me, forcing me to be your sexual concubine, and walk away with no repercussions for the untold mental and emotional damage you've inflicted on me."

Gabe remained infuriatingly silent.

"Answer me." My voice was quiet, measured.

"It's good to see you little one. I've missed you as well. Our last interaction at the museum was inspiring. Don't you agree?"

My opened palm raised to slap Gabe crisply across his cheek. He caught my wrist before I was able to deliver another strike. He flexed his jaw. His grip tightened and held me, with force, until I wrestled it from out of his grasp. I stepped away.

"Resorting to violence again I see, little one. I'll have to fix that."

"You never flew me anywhere, did you? Your mansion is here. Presumably my fake apartment is here." The realization was a difficult one to absorb. My longstanding crush on El could have been enacted if I had confided in him. Had I done that, I might not have been captured and forced to exist without sunlight for months, without freedom for longer. My life would not have been sacrificed for Gabe's edification. "We could have been dating this entire time?" My voice was frantically subdued in disbelief.

"I tried Amelia. As I told you before, I attempted to generate a meeting with you on multiple occasions. But I was unsuccessful. Abducting you was a last resort," Gabe admitted.

"I heard the radio, the TV stations. They were all in some European tongue." I confusingly mumbled.

"I never lied to you Amelia. I simply never dispelled your assumption that we were on another continent. I won't apologize for manipulating you. You manipulated me. You don't think I know you were deceiving me this entire time. Calling yourself little one, ingratiating yourself in every conceivable fashion to implement your escape? I regret forcing you beyond your capabilities, though it was necessary for your breakthrough. It was difficult to see your mental deterioration. You seem stronger now, able to withstand the onslaught of anything that comes your way."

Gabe's fictive deception of my European captivity reduced my will to escape. We had never left the city. It was an imagined reality that became objectively real through my consensus and my tacit acceptance of his deception as dogma. Had I queried its legitimacy, I might have evaded the control. I collapsed into a nearby chair, stunned at the catastrophic enormity of the realization. All these months wasted, my life stolen, for what?

Gabe came over and tried to comfort me. I shoved him off. His touch was acidity on my flesh. "Get the fuck off me, you selfish piece of shit. You ruined my life for what? To fuck me?"

"I love you, Amelia. You love me. You confessed it to me. I'm your Master. You know that. Your body recognizes that. If I reached between your legs, you'd be wet and waiting, as you always were under my hand of control. Like you were at the elevator. Like you were at the restaurant. Like you were at the museum. You're mine." He placed the palm of his hand on my exposed knee, sliding it gradually up.

I slapped it away.

Gabe's nostrils flared as he returned to grip my upper thigh, his fingertips leaving white indentations onto my skin. He felt for the now faded mark of his ownership. He gripped my chin, forcing our gazes to meet. "Are you wet Amelia? Don't deny what your body feels in my presence. I can smell your excitement from here."

I squirmed, trying to free myself. "I have no ethnical duty to you Gabe. You can't possibly think that my acquiescence under duress was genuine. You conditioned me to be wet at your touch. It's involuntary, not intentional."

"Is that what you've convinced yourself little one, that everything was a manipulation from you? You can rationalize your captivity if that mollifies your own sense of guilt. But you were drenched at the barest of my touches. You still are. You craved being at my feet. You begged for more pain. I can reproduce the desperation in your pleas to fuck you in your ass harder and deeper and fill you with bigger toys to stretch your cunt. You surrendered so easily after your release. You can't feign that licentiousness. You turned out to be exactly as depraved as I thought you would be, if not more."

Gabe wanted to wound me with his words, to impugn my innocence, and place responsibility entirely on me. I only stared at him in disbelief.

"Tell me that you don't love me little one, and I'll leave you alone. Just say the words."

I didn't want to lie to Gabe. I did care about him. "Are you going to take accountability Gabe?" I retrieved the detective's card from my purse and slid it across his desk. "Call the detective right now. Confess to him. Take responsibility for what you've done. You don't get to operate above the law without consequences."

"I gave you exactly what you needed Amelia, and what you wanted." Gabe's voice conveyed a tone I hadn't heard before, indecipherable in its intent. "I delivered every fantasy you ever had occasion to pen." Umbrage. Gabe genuinely believed he was performing a public service.

"Oh?" My tone raised decibels. I had finally found my voice. "No Gabe. You loved it," I hissed. "I did it to stay alive. I did it to escape you. Should I inform your entire office exactly what you gave to me Gabe? How you hectored me and pushed me down to my knees so I could swallow your cock? How you forcefully bound my limbs behind my back to a collar so that you could fuck me in the ass every morning, after you tortured me with an enema, watching me cramp? Should I tell your attractive receptionist that her boss likes to cane and flog and spank women until their voices are hoarse from screaming, and watch them as they fuck themselves on large butt plugs and anal beads? How about I tell your CFO that respectful Mr. Magnussen enjoys humiliating women and debasing them as he inserts objects into their orifices and then ejaculates over their face making them bear the mark of his dried semen? Is that what you gave me Gabe?" I was reaching near hysterical volumes.

My eyes lifted to his in opposition. I saw the flicker of fear that crossed his countenance. It was the trace of vulnerability, the barely perceptible shift in his demeanor. It was the same look he had attempted to conceal that day in his den when I confronted him about his latex doll fantasy.

"You're a fucking coward Gabe. You speak about accountability, about being remorseful in the theoretical. But I don't see an ounce of regret in praxis. You denied everything to that detective. Your actions are an affront to the spirit of BDSM. A good Master nurtures his submissive. He doesn't kidnap her from a club, keep her confined in some fake apartment, and then force her into sexual servitude. You run from responsibility. There's nothing honourable in you." I raised my hand to his heart. "Where is the kindness that I saw in you during my captivity Gabe? You're a fundamentally good person. Where's that nerdy, awkward boy who shared his life with me? Prove it to me. You need to let me go. I'm not yours anymore. I never was."

We stared at each other, each unwilling to compromise. I turned around, preparing to leave.

"Amelia wait." Gabe reached for my arm, a gentle, beseeching gesture. "My name is Gabriel Magnussen. I'm your pen pal El. I'm in love with you. Please give me a chance. We're perfect for each other. We were destined to be together. We share a singular journey towards passion together. You feel it in your heart." His expression was pleading as he gazed at me. His fingers interlaced with mine and he brought them up to my heart, pressing down. The fingertip of his other hand traced the contours of my slightly parted lips, as his thumb wiped the tear trailing down my cheek. He reached down and kissed me, an achingly soft kiss.

I knew what Gabe was doing. He was appealing to me from that night where we had our first date in the mansion, and he confessed to me about what he should have said to me at the club the night he kidnapped me. We danced together that night, as he extended his hand to me, and I took it. Gabe's grasp remained on my arm, pulsing in its grip of me.

I only stared at him after he said it. "It's too late Gabe. If only you had confessed long months ago, at the club. I'm not yours. I never was. I have too much respect for myself to be with a man like you, a man who refuses to be responsible for his actions." The tears I had successfully repressed, dripped in earnest then. Gabe gathered me and held me in the familiar comfort of his possession. I wanted to forgive him. I wanted to tell him that despite everything he had done, the atrocities he had committed on me, that I did care for him. But I would never be his, not willingly, not without him demonstrating accountability.

"Pineapple." It was barely audible as it left my lips. I had uttered my safeword. He only looked down at me and blanched before releasing me from his hold. His face tightened.

"You once told me that you admired my inner resilience to transcend any situation, including this one. You thought I was mentally strong enough to survive this. You're right. I am and I will," I rebelliously declared before I pivoted and walked out of his office. I didn't turn around to look back. I didn't see the disappointment pulling Gabe's features down. I didn't notice Gabe's slightly narrowed eyes and the quiet fury writing across his brow at my rejection of him, and my denunciation of his ownership on me and all the "lessons" and "training" he had imparted. I didn't observe him fingering my knitted collar in his pocket, or his tensed jaw as it flexed. I only saw my freedom ahead.

In the succeeding weeks after I confronted Gabe, I applied for a leave of absence from work, explaining that my mental health had been unexpectedly deteriorating. They were understanding and encouraged me to take as much time. And I did. My life adopted a welcomed routinization. I no longer startled awake at night as frequently. The intrusive thoughts that once clouded my thinking, seemed less incapacitating. The small sparks of joy that permeated into my life enlivened the detachment that once threatened so heavily on my psyche. In my healing, I felt less a hostage to the past, and more a participant to my future.

One weekend morning as I snuggled with Mittens curled in the crook of my arm, trying to sleep away an unexpected headache, I felt a quiet serenity that I hadn't before. Gabe's continuing efforts at contact with me had all been ignored. He had left voice messages imploring me to reconsider. I wouldn't provide him with the power over me he so desperately desired. Sensing Gabe's vulnerability provided the closure for me to abandon him mentally in the past. While I didn't deny that I loved him, or that thoughts of his touch enflamed my passions, what I felt for him was irrelevant. There was no need for me to relocate or hide any longer. His power over my mind was neutered. My future was beyond these walls, beyond his ownership, and beyond his gaze. Captivity had irrevocably changed the trajectory of my life. I couldn't resume my old life of drudgery when sensual pleasures had been roused. I had come to terms with who I was.

I stood that morning after my shower before my mirror and clutched my bared neck. The rivulets of water still damp on my skin. I gazed at my naked form. "I'm a submissive," I murmured. The once familiar ritual Gabe and I previously enacted, now reterritorialized and disinvested of the insidiousness it once conveyed. As I turned to dress, I caught the shine of my eyes in the reflection. It was a levity I once feared had been extinguished. I laughed. It took a forcible confinement and a kidnapping for me to realize who I was. Even though Gabe had thwarted the reckoning of the authorities, I had prevailed. I had absconded with his unrequited heart.

Adam and I were meeting for brunch. I had reached out after my altercation with Gabe. I hadn't yet disclosed the details of the despotism of Gabe's cruelty. I had only vaguely confessed that my past relationship had been coercive but had revealed my submissive nature. My propensity to brood had been detrimental to self, enabling the darkness of isolation to flourish unfettered in my soul. I was finally prepared to confide to Adam about my captivity, and the full extent of what Gabe had done to me, to inform him of my resistance, and duplicitousness, of my machinations and eventual cunning to enact my liberty.

A knock on the door jolted me from my contemplations, and I hurriedly collected my belongings. When I flung open the door, Gabe's hulking figure blocked my egress. He forced his body inwards, shutting the door with decisiveness. I shuffled backwards, generating a protective distance to shield me from Gabe's errant whims. I wasn't angered at Gabe's presence at my threshold. I felt saddened that he refused to be disabused of his misconceptions. He denied the reality of my necessary disassociation from him.