Miss Renfield's Last Day

I didn't remember my training. I remembered being in a dark space with a screen that told me obvious things and took a long time to move on to the next screen. My memory had been wiped and I had been fitted with my collar and told to complete the trainings as efficiently as I could, so I accessed the administrative files for the training program and shortened the length time between slides to one tenth of a second. Then, I quickly answered the test questions the way they wanted me to answer them (I will always love my master. I will do anything for my master. My master's wishes are more important than my life. Weekends do not exist when my master needs me.), but I didn't remember much of it. Why did thralls have an anonymous ethics hotline?

I sat there twisting my hands together and frowning, trying to remember what was on the screens that flew by so quickly, when Mr. Durant spoke, "Look, she is obviously not feeling well after what happened last night, so just start the investigation and—"

"Sir, HR cannot start an investigation without an actionable compl—"

"Then, consider this a complaint, Miss Hexuba! A thrall is dead and Eden's back is bruised all to hell! Why is everyone at HR so goddamn useless?" Mr. Durant shouted.

Miss Hexuba's smile stiffened. Then she blinked. "As you wish, sir, but I really don't think anything will come of it. It will also be very upsetting to the people we need to investigate."

"What? You're worried about upsetting a murderer?"

"Well, all the employees, really. We cannot treat a murderer differently from any other employee, or we are at risk for both equal opportunity and discrimination lawsuits, so we will need to interrogate all employees in the same way. We should have the results of our investigation in about 5 years."

"I see. Please get out of my office, Miss Hexuba."

"Yes, sir. I will have Miss Rigby's termination ready for you this aftern—"

"You will not be killing Miss Rigby, either, Miss Hexuba. You may go."

"If you insist, sir. Will there be anything else?"

For the second time in a day, I felt something strange and sharp bubble up inside my brain again. My hand raised up before I even realized it. "Yes, Miss Renfield? Do you remember anything? What is it?" Mr. Durant said, taking my hand and holding it.

"I was wondering... um... about the hotline," I said.

"Why, yes dear?" Miss Hexuba said, her smile widening.

"You said that retaliation for reporting untoward behavior is absolutely prohibited..." I repeated.

"Yes, dear. Absolutely no retaliation is allowed."

"Yes... but if there's no retaliation allowed, why is the hotline anonymous?" I asked.

Miss Hexuba blinked. Then, she blinked again. Then, she blinked many, many times and she kept blinking as her smile got wider and wider. Usually, you don't any of the see the bottom teeth when someone smiles, but I could see all of Miss Hexuba's lower teeth and even some of her molars. Her dentist must be very grateful she could show so many of her teeth at once. "Mr. Durant, I do think Miss Renfield's training could use... refreshing..." she said, her lips not moving, they were stretched so tightly across her teeth.

"Actually, I like her as she is. That will be all, Miss Hexuba. I will call you when I find a use for HR again," he said.

*** *** ***

That night, I didn't go back to the hive, for some reason. Mr. Durant brought me up to the roof of the Corporation's building and told me to put my arms over his shoulders and hold on. Then, he became a bat and we were flying through the city together. He was either a really big bat, or somehow I had become very small. I snuggled into his fur and watched the city go by. I couldn't remember being outside the building before. It reminded me of something, though, holding on to his fur as we passed over the river and watching the moonlight ripple beautifully over the water.

Soon, we arrived at the top of another tall building and Mr. Durant landed us onto a large terrace and walked to the door of a large apartment. I walked to the edge of the terrace and looked over the edge. "Don't get any ideas, Miss Renfield. I caught you once, I will catch you again," he said.

I didn't understand what he meant, but then he waved his hand for me to follow him into the building. "Don't worry, sir. I don't get ideas. I think it's the HR training. Why are we here?"

"You needed a place to sleep, and I didn't think you would enjoy a file drawer," he said.

"But... I sleep in the hive, sir," I said. I began feeling uneasy. "It moves around at night and soothes us. It nourishes our blood. It sanitizes us. It reclaims our waste..."

Mr. Durant laid his jacket over a long couch next to a piano. Where the walls were not covered by paintings, they held shelves filled with books. "Well, for the rest of your term, you will sleep in a bed. You will eat food, wash yourself, and tend to your personal grooming," he said. I began to feel nervous. I didn't know how to do any of those things.

"I... I was going to have a visitor in the hive, tonight. Now, I won't be there. I think he wanted to share my hive slot with me," I said, twisting my hands together.

Mr. Durant's face darkened. "Yes, I know. That is another reason you are staying here, Eden. Don't worry. You will be quite safe. I will take care of you." Then, he took my hand and squeezed it. I didn't know why he did it, but I liked it very much. "I had Miss Rigby bring you some clothing and toiletries. Why don't you go look through them while I warm you some dinner."

I went into the room he indicated and saw several large shopping bags at the end of a bed. The bed was large and could hold five or six thralls, at least. The bed also was covered with red rose petals in the shape of a giant heart. It smelled good and was very pretty.

I looked through the bags for a blouse like mine, but there was nothing I recognized. Most of the clothes were very small. One outfit seemed only to be made of stretchy straps as wide as my finger. I pulled out a stiff, shiny black outfit that had a lot of buckles and jangled loudly when I held it up. Then, Mr. Durant walked into the bedroom, "Eden, I'm giving you some potato soup. They say it is very gentle and good for when you are growing accustomed to eating food ag— oh dear god!" he suddenly yelled.

I turned around and saw that Mr. Durant was looking at the rose petals on the bed in horror. I held up the shiny black outfit in confusion, "Did you need me to pull a sled tonight, Mr. Durant? This one looks like a harness..." I said, holding it up to my body.

Mr. Durant closed his eyes and breathed deeply. I thought he did it because he liked the smell of the roses, but then he walked quickly into the room and pulled the blanket off the bed, gathering all the rose petals with it, took it outside, and shook it out over the terrace sending the rose petals falling to the street like rain. When he returned, he threw the blanket back onto the bed, opened his closet, and took out a white shirt like the ones he wore to work. "Wear this when you sleep, Miss Renfield. Miss Rigby has misunderstood my intentions in bringing you here. Don't look at anything else in the bags. Don't... don't even think about the things you saw in the bags. You should probably go wash your hands, as well," he said, looking shaken.

"Yes, sir," I said. "Miss Rigby hasn't displeased you, has she, sir? Please don't punish her. She takes great pride in her work. I only wish I could do my duties as well as she does. She would be heartbroken if she thought that—"

"It is quite all right, Eden. I... I simply should have been more clear when I made my request to Miss Rigby. It's just that she assumed I intended to do something with you... something distasteful."

"What did she think you would do with me, sir?"

"She... ah... thought that I intended to use you... sexually," he said.

"Oh. I... I am not trained for sexual duties, sir. I would try very hard if you wanted me to, though. You would need to show me how to perform them. Is that... why it would be distasteful for you to use me?" I asked.

"I... no, not at all. It is because of your training that I would find it distasteful, Miss Renfield. A thrall is trained to be servient, to ignore their own wishes and desires. Their willingness is forced and not genuine. It is repugnant to sexually use one who is in that state," he said.

"Like a Sex Thrall, sir?" I asked.

Mr. Durant paused in mid-stride and turned to me with wide eyes, "Where have you heard of such things, Miss Renfield?"

"In... in the elevator, sir. The Executives talk about them a lot."

"I see," he said. His lips had gotten thin. They didn't look like they felt as soft as when he had kissed my hand. "Using a Sex Thrall is not considered distasteful, though not all choose to use their services. When a thrall's term of service ends, they are given a choice as to whether they will continue with the Corporation. Those that choose to become Sex Thralls have consented to perform those duties when they are not under the influence of their training."

"Oh," I said. "Some of the Executives say they hope I will become a Sex Thrall when my term is ended," I said. The blue of Mr. Durant's eyes was disappearing into the blackness, again.

"Do they?" Mr. Durant asked, walking around the bed and straightening the cover into a perfectly smooth surface. Then, he turned to me again, "I will be taking you back and forth to and from the Corporation for the rest of your term, Miss Renfield. I see no need for you to use the elevator without me anymore." His jaw was clenching and I worried that I would not be able to say anything that would make him happy.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry to ask so many questions, sir. I'm just curious because I know my term is ending soon and I will need to choose. Can... can I ask one more question?"

"Yes..."

"If I became a Sex Thrall—"

Then, Mr. Durant's eyes went all black and he walked toward me and I walked backwards until I bumped against his closet doors and then he was right against me and spoke loudly, "You will never become a Sex Thrall, Miss Renfield. Never. Do you understand? I absolutely forbid—"

"— could I still help you with your coat?" I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut. Then, it was very quiet. I couldn't even hear Mr. Durant breathing. I guess he didn't have anything to say. Instead, he moved one of his hands behind my neck and cupped my face with the other. Then, I felt his lips on mine, not soft like they were on my hand, but sweet and hungry, speaking long and beautiful silent words that were only understood somewhere deep inside me. For some reason, I wanted to reach up and touch his face, too... to press my body even closer to his.

When he pulled his face away and his lips stopped talking with mine, his eyes had turned mostly blue again, but he was breathing hard, even though he wasn't saying a word. Then, he leaned forward and put his forehead on mine and closed his eyes. Then, he laughed softly. "No, Miss Renfield. You could never, ever help me with my coat again, if you made that choice. I would forever be going around rumpled, shivering and uncovered. I would catch my death of cold and it would be all your fault."

"But, you don't die, Mr. Durant. And Miss Rigby could do it for you..."

"No... no, no, no. You've seen the kinds of things she chooses, Miss Renfield. Completely unsuitable. I'm afraid it's got to be you, or else I'm doomed to cold oblivion."

"I'll write up a one-pager on the coat procedure for Miss Rigby, just in case, sir. I know she wouldn't want anything bad to happen to you," I said.

Then, Mr. Durant's mouth made a funny shape. "I'm really looking forward to reading that, Miss Renfield," he said, chuckling. It was a wonderful noise. His eyes were very blue now, and they were looking at my face, lingering on my lips.

"Because Miss Rigby is very sweet, sir. She would never want to disappoint you. She... she cares about you very much," I said, twisting my hands together.

Mr. Durant leaned forward and stroked a piece of hair away from my face, "Does she?" he said, not like he was asking a question, but like he knew the answer.

"She... she would do anything for you, sir..." I whispered, wishing he would put his lips against mine, again... against my mouth, and neck, and shoulders, and really, anything of mine. I'd even like it if he put them against the back of my knee where it was so ticklish. The image of his lips on the back of my knee flashed into my mind and I wondered if Mr. Durant could see it, too.

Mr. Durant looked in my eyes for a long time, like he was seeing something he wanted that might not be real. Then, he closed his eyes and clenched his jaw before gently, but firmly, moving me away from him with both his arms. "Be at ease, Miss Renfield. Miss Rigby has not displeased me. By the looks of these items, I will likely refrain from imagining what she does in her spare time, but she has not displeased me at all. Go wash your hands for dinner, now."

Later, after putting potato soup food into my mouth with a spoon many, many times, I stood in the bedroom wearing Mr. Durant's shirt. It came down to the middle of my thighs, which was good, because my skirt and underwear had disintegrated. Thrall clothes usually dissolve in the sanitizer every day, but this time it crumbled away into tiny pieces as I put all the buttons into all the holes of Mr. Durant's shirt. I never realized how many buttons men's shirts have. What's more confusing, is there are buttons on the shirt that don't even have holes for them. They just sit there at the bottom of the shirt and don't do anything. I felt bad for them, so I found holes for them. Then, I couldn't move my arm because it was buttoned to the bottom of the shirt. It was very confusing.

Then, Mr. Durant was in the doorway of the bedroom and he was covering his mouth. "Miss Renfield, how is it you can straighten my lapels, tie and collar every day with such precision, and yet you button my shirt like that?" he asked, gesturing to where the shirt bulged out at one place, and one side hung lower than the other.

"I would show you, Mr. Durant, but my skirt dissolved and if I move my arm it will show the places HR says thralls should always keep covered," I explained.

Then, he walked into the bedroom and lifted my chin with his long-fingered hand and bent his head to the side to see better. "First of all, when you wear a men's shirt without a tie, you never button all the buttons. Keep this top one unbuttoned," he said, un-doing the collar. I was glad because it was very stiff and uncomfortable. I felt bad that Mr. Durant had to wear the collar that way so much. Of course, I always wore a collar, but it didn't have buttons. It just beeped sometimes.

"That feels better," I agreed.

"Hmmm, yes. But, one button usually isn't enough. One button can look a bit... uptight. Two buttons is better, particularly in a relaxed setting," he said, tugging open the next button down.

"Thralls relax in the hive... but we don't wear any clothes there," I said, noticing that he had two buttons undone on his shirt. He stroked my skin through the two-button opening with the tips of his fingers. Then he smiled when bumps rose up all over me and I shivered. It felt so good.

"That does sound pleasant, Miss Renfield. If you were to go without clothes here, though, I would find it decidedly difficult to relax. Sometimes accommodating the weaknesses of others must sacrifice a bit of our comfort. Do you mind sleeping in my shirt?" he asked, slipping the buttons through another two holes. I could see the curves of my breasts through the large opening in the shirt, now. I hoped he didn't mind that so much of my skin was showing. Then, I remembered to answer his question.

"No sir... I like it. Wearing your shirt. It feels like you're all around me, keeping me safe. It feels like I'm yours..." I said. I looked up and Mr. Durant had raised his eyebrows and was looking at me, but not talking. Had I said something wrong? I tried to explain myself, "Um, I mean, I *am* yours, sir. I am your Assistant Thrall and I serve you, but I don't wear your shirt when I serve you and now I'm wearing your shirt and I'm still yours, but it feels like I am... extra yours, now?" I finished. He had opened all the buttons of the shirt, now, and skin was showing all the way from my neck down to the place between my legs that felt so full and wet and warm. I was sure HR would not approve of my uniform, now. I looked up at Mr. Durant's face, to see if he was upset about it, and then when I saw his face, I forgot what I was worried about.

"And do you like that... feeling extra mine?" he asked, leaning his head down until our faces were almost touching.

"Yes, sir... and no," I said. "It feels good. It feels so good I can barely think of anything but how good it feels. But it also feels... empty? It feels so good that it feels like a big space is inside me and until I fill it with more of the feeling of being extra yours, I will be shaking and confused and... is that because my training is fading, sir? Will this feeling stop when I get trained for my next job?" I asked.

"Or, perhaps, when that space inside you is filled..."

"I don't know if that's possible, sir. It feels like it could never be filled... like it would just keep wanting more and more and more. I would need you to keep filling me again and again and again and ag—"

I thought he was going to put me away from him again with his arms, but then Mr. Durant closed his eyes and shook his head, "We should stop talking about this, Miss Renfield, or soon I will need to take the HR training," he said.

A bit of his hair had fallen down onto his forehead, and I reached up and stroked it back. "The training's not that bad, sir. I'll show you how to make the slides go faster and answer the questions the way they want. It barely took me any time at all," I said.

Mr. Durant's eyes widened. He looked like he was surprised, but also something else. "You... altered your training program? Made it go faster?" he asked, taking my shoulders and looking at me closely.

I nodded. "They told us to complete it as efficiently as we could. I knew I could complete it more efficiently if I altered the program to be shorter, so I just went into the training on the SharePoint and fixed it."

Then, Mr. Durant pulled his head back and blinked. "Yes, but if you weren't exposed to the slides for the correct length of time, then you didn't receive the subliminal conditioning that... you're not... you've never been... you're not..." he said, but then he ran out of breath and didn't breathe again. He just stared at me.

"Did I do something wrong, Mr. Durant?" I asked.

"No... not exactly. I... I just need to speak with HR again, tomorrow," he said, looking at me as if he had never really seen me before.

"Oh... I'm so sorry, sir," I said. I took his hand and squeezed it like he had squeezed mine when he wanted to make me feel better. Then, Mr. Durant pulled me against him and put his mouth on mine again. I was surprised and it felt so good that I made a noise, and then he put his arms around me. His head tilted and then he made my mouth open, somehow, and then I felt our tongues touching and licking and then there was nothing else inside me but the need to be his. Extra his. All and forever his.

Then, Mr. Durant stopped and set me away from him again and breathed deeply with his eyes closed. When he opened them, he didn't look at me at all, but pulled the blankets down and pointed to the place where they used to be. "You need to sleep. Get in," he said, quietly.

"Sir, I... I don't think I can sleep," I said, looking down at the bed. "It's not like the hive. There are no tubes. The bed doesn't move at all. And I feel like all I can think about is that I need your mouth touching me again, and my legs feel all squirmy, and it's slippery and throbbing in—"