Pt. 04: Restitution

Part 4

Restitution

53

Sunday 25th May.

Kate woke to the sound of Oscar's purring. Golden light flooding in through the windows suggested a late hour and a glance at the bedside clock confirmed it. Although feeling much better in herself, Kate reluctantly left the bed in desperate need of a visit to the bathroom. In the early hours of the morning her desperate need for sleep eventually triumphed over her active mind.

Attempting to remember back to the events of the previous evening seemed like trying to capture an elusive dream, knowing its subject matter but unable to pinpoint any detail. Was the whole episode a dream-- or a nightmare? She hoped so. That first tentative look in the mirror confirmed the reality. Surely dreams didn't leave puffy red eyes, and swollen lips.

There was something about the smell of hot coffee which always lifted her spirits, and the speed at which she ate the bowl of muesli reminded her of how little she'd eaten the day before. Relaxing with a second cup of coffee gave her time to consider the implications of her actions.

What would happen next? She didn't know but she knew it was too late to change the events; they were in the past, fixed in history. Lloyd's sneering face came to mind--the bastard. The whole thing was personal from the beginning; he just wanted to get his revenge, to beat her. He didn't even want to use her, just humiliate her and destroy her. In her opinion he'd taken things to a new level, outside of slave humiliation. The bastard. What would happen to her now? She knew she'd be punished, but how severely? She hoped she could take it, whatever it was.

What had she done? She'd broken rule number one, the only rule. Shit, how stupid was that. She'd refused to let people use her body, and technically it wasn't even hers: she'd signed it away.

Perhaps her punishment would turn out to be a good thing; a severe beating would leave marks to be proud of, necessary evidence of her desire to re-establish her slavery. When Richard turned informer and handed her over to The Colonel it worked out well. That experience did her good, perhaps this will as well.

Unable to draw any conclusions from her jumbled thoughts, Kate returned to the starting point. She could take the beating which she knew was inevitable, but what form would it take? It was a much greater transgression than last time; would the beating increase by the same proportion? She'd be more than happy to pay the price and move on but, of far greater importance, what of letting people down? Not Lloyd, he was a git. But she'd let down Richard, Oakham, The Colonel and herself. Her body would heal after the punishment, but she would always be left with the guilt of disappointing them all. Surely they would all see the unfairness of her treatment, Richard would, he loved her.

She rebuked herself; why didn't she just do it at the time?

She spent a long time trying to convince herself that all would be okay. She was sure they'd take all the issues into account. She'd shown that she was different, that she'd broken away from socially acceptable behaviour and she'd always obeyed orders. It was Lloyd who was out of line, not her.

For years she'd hidden her dirty thoughts: her slave fantasies. Being sold at auction, being thrashed, being treated badly--she'd kept them all private. Of course she felt guilty for having the thoughts but they were useful masturbation material. The ironic thing was, that in recent weeks, she felt guilty for having normal thoughts. She felt guilty for doing what most people would consider the right thing in such situations. What a turn around.

The day dragged, and even though she finally got around to all those long neglected domestic chores, they still failed to take her mind off things. She took a long walk which was pleasant enough, but still failed to help her draw any comfort. She knew there was only one course of action--to wait.

Monday 26th May.

The telephone rang. Kate froze. Who was it? What would she say if it were Graham Weston? All of the speeches she'd practised deserted her.

"Hello."

"Kate, it's me."

"Oh Richard, thank god." What should she say? Does he know? Should she tell him?

"I've heard Kate, Graham called this morning."

"Oh."

"What were you thinking? You know you can't do that--just walk out."

"I know that, but there was more to it than there seems. Lloyd was a shit. It wasn't a slave thing."

"But why did you refuse?"

"That man they had...he was disgusting, and I wasn't feeling well and...well what if he'd been on drugs or he had something, some disease?"

"Kate, they were challenging you, he'd been with them all day, he was tested in the morning. You know they wouldn't do anything to endanger you like that."

Shit, shit, shit, she thought, she should have trusted. "He was just filthy," Richard continued, "they fed him and gave him a day to remember."

"I think he'll remember it alright, I certainly will. So what happens now?"

"I don't know." Richard said calmly. He wasn't shouting or telling her off, but she could hear the disappointment in his voice-she'd let him down. She felt the tears trickling down her cheeks.

"Look, I'll be back on Wednesday and we'll decide what to do then, okay?"

"Okay."

"I've got to go now, I'm due in a meeting, I'll see you Wednesday alright? Bye."

"Bye."

He put the phone down. He put the phone down without saying he loved her, he always told her he loved her. The flow of tears increased. She hated that she seemed to have done nothing but cry since Saturday night. Why was it all her fault? Look at all she'd done, all she'd put up with, had done to her, and now just one mistake and she felt like shit. It wasn't fair.

As soon as she walked into the gallery Helen knew there was a problem.

"Kate, what on earth's happened, look at you?"

There was no reply, Kate couldn't form sensible words. Her outstretched arms seemed to be the only method of communicating her distress. Helen locked the door and hugged her. After a few minutes Kate started to control her sobbing.

"I'm sorry; I've done nothing but cry lately."

"What's happened? Tell me."

"It's all gone wrong, just like you said it would."

"Come on, let's go in the back and you tell me." Two cups of tea later and Helen had heard the full story.

"That sod was always bad news, now look what he's done. I could kill him."

"Whatever he's done doesn't seem to matter now, it's me who's got to pick up the pieces, not him."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know, Richards not back 'till Wednesday and I haven't heard anything from anybody at Oakham."

"I know what you should do. I'll look after things here and you go and see Elizabeth, she'll understand." Kate couldn't hide the look of surprise on her face.

"How do you know about Elizabeth?"

"Oh Kate, I'm not stupid. I can put two and two together. Those meetings at the coffee shop couldn't all have been about her artwork. Go and give her a call-now." Helen passed her the phone and went to open the front door.

"Well, what did she say?"

"She's here in town; I'm going to meet her in an hour. Will you be okay here?"

"Of course I will," Helen assured her.

"I'd better go and sort myself out. Judging by your reaction to seeing me, I must look like shit."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that, but you might try a little work on the eyes." Kate smiled for the first time in days.

"I'll see what I can do."

After fixing her face as best she could, she returned to the gallery.

"That's much better-the old Kate. Look don't worry, it'll all be sorted out."

"Thanks Helen, you're a real pal."

The warm embrace conveyed her gratitude. At least Helen still loved her.

Over a large coffee, Kate relayed the events of Saturday night to Elizabeth.

"But why didn't you just do it Kate, however horrible it might have been?"

"It wasn't the thing itself, that was just the final straw. I had a splitting headache, and I'd laddered my last stocking, then there were the road works making me late. It just sort of all built up. Then when it turned out to be Sebastian bloody Lloyd, well..."

"The problem here is that the circumstances don't change the facts, as they'll see them. You walked out on an assignment."

"I know but..."

"There is no but, Kate. We're slaves, always slaves, that doesn't stop when we don't feel like it, our feelings are immaterial. We don't play at it when we want to; we're always at the beck and call of others." Kate looked away, taking in what she'd said, and knowing it to be the truth.

"I'm sorry Kate; I didn't mean it to sound so unsympathetic."

"I know, and you're right."

"I can see that it was a personal thing and he was in the wrong, so they'll be able to as well."

"But besides that, the tramp was disgusting, he smelt awful."

"But that's not the point, is it. This isn't all handsome blokes in dinner suits you know. If it was it wouldn't satisfy that need you have to submit, your craving for meeting a challenge, it would be too easy. It would just be sex. No, picking and choosing would be too easy."

"I can see that now-now that it's too late."

"You should have been grateful."

"What?"

"You should have been grateful," Elizabeth said again. "You were given a real challenge, an opportunity to really submit but you failed to live up to it."

Why can other people make her see things so clearly? Elizabeth was right, she'd failed herself, failed to pursue the very thing she set out to achieve, her submission.

"But what now? I've given them everything so far, all the pain, my dignity, the lot."

"That wasn't what you wanted though was it, the pain and the degradation. You wanted to please, to make them proud, show what a good slave you could be. Tolerating the pain and humiliation were only the means of doing that, the way to get what you really wanted. The harder the challenge, the closer you got to achieving that dream."

"I know what I've done, I need to know what to do about it, how to put things right."

"I think the only thing you can do is go and see Graham Weston, make him see how you feel, that you know what you've done."

Kate knew that Elizabeth was right. That's what she'd have to do.

The evening had dragged by slowly. Kate felt lonely and miserable. Unable to concentrate on her book, she tried to watch some television. How she was feeling made the offerings seem even more banal than usual. The only break from her gloom came in the form of a phone call: Helen, checking that she was okay. What would she do without Helen? They spoke for a long while, and it lifted her spirits. Helen agreed with Elizabeth, she should go to see Graham Weston. He knew what had happened, Richard said so, but there had been no contact. Neither of them could offer a plausible reason why. They both agreed, she would go first thing tomorrow. Helen would sort everything out at the gallery.

Tuesday 27th May.

Trying to show a degree of confidence she wasn't feeling, Kate entered the Oakham office. Her frequent visits there counted for nothing, she felt nervous, a stranger amongst the familiar. Grace rose from her desk looking uneasy, her greeting more formal than warm.

"I've come to see Mr. Weston."

"I'm sorry; he's not in the office." The flicking of her eyes and her hesitant voice led Kate to believe that the reality may be different. She needed to sort something out; she couldn't let it drag on any longer.

"I'll wait then, if that's okay?"

"As you wish," Grace said.

Two hours passed, people came and went, mainly to the other offices upstairs. Nobody went in or out from Weston's office. Kate's mind ran through the fateful events for the umpteenth time. How she longed for Weston to emerge from his office and tell her she was to be severely beaten, oh what joy those words would bring.

But nothing happened. She just sat and waited. As the morning turned to afternoon Grace brought her coffee and biscuits.

"He's really not here Kate, you'd be better to go home."

"I've been at home stewing over this for three days, I need to sort things out."

"I know, but I don't know what else to suggest." Her sympathetic look persuaded Kate to give up her vigil. Beaten once again she left the office. Rather than return to the gallery she spent a large portion of the afternoon in the coffee shop, thinking, contemplating and regretting. She pictured Lloyd's smug face revelling in his victory. She had to do something. The only possibility which presented itself was to contact Weston through the Oakham website. Why hadn't she done that before? It seemed the obvious course of action.

As soon as Oscar had been fed Kate turned on her laptop and logged on. 'Password incorrect' the new window informed her. Three more attempts convinced her that there was no mistake on her part. She'd been closed out of the site. She was an outcast, ostracised by the group. She'd committed the gravest error and was paying the price. Never had she felt so alone. She realised that her expulsion was not the result of refusing to suck the tramp, it came for refusing to obey.

The human reaction of self-preservation took over. She didn't need them. She would do without them, without being beaten and abused. She would go back to her old life, she'd choose when to have sex, and when to say no. Sod the lot of them.

Her first act of defiance sprang to mind. She rushed upstairs and searched through the wardrobe in the spare bedroom. There they were; her black tailored trousers. I can wear trousers if I bloody well like-and underwear.

She found out, then put on, some panties and a bra followed by trousers. She was pleased that they fit well, ten months after they were last worn.

She returned downstairs to prepare a light snack. After forcing down the ham sandwich, she went back to the bedroom and undressed. The underwear and trousers just felt wrong, uncomfortable and enclosing. Who was she trying to kid? She didn't want her old life back, or want to choose, she wanted to be told.

In desperation she sent an Email to Weston, no password needed, she knew the address off by heart. She had pleaded many times before, most often while being punished, but this was genuine cold light of day pleading. She would do anything, accept any punishment if only they would give her one more chance and take her back into the group.

Any punishment of theirs she could cope with, she was living with her own punishment; her rejection.

The night followed the same pattern as the previous three; in bed, alone and crying.

Wednesday 28th May.

"Kate, Elizabeth's here," Helen called upstairs where she was tidying the storeroom, "shall I send her up?"

"No, I'm done here I'll be down in a minute."

"How's she doing today?" Elizabeth asked, unsure of how much Helen knew.

"She's okay, stronger than people give her credit for. She's not right though, she'd never normally have cleaned up that storeroom."

"Wanting to keep busy I suppose." Elizabeth stopped talking as she heard Kate enter.

"Hi, Elizabeth, sorry about that. Doing a bit of sorting out."

"I'll leave you to it then," Helen offered, walking to the front of the gallery.

"No need Helen." Kate turned to Elizabeth. "Helen knows the whole story, she's been great. I fancy a coffee break anyway; shall we go round the corner?"

"You two go, I'll look after things here, I'll see you later Kate."

Stirring her steaming coffee, Elizabeth asked what progress Kate had made.

"Did you go to see Mr. Weston?"

"I went, but I didn't see him, I waited, for ages actually, but he didn't show. Perhaps he really wasn't there, I don't know. I sent an Email last night but got no reply from that either."

"They have to say or do something, one way or the other."

"I thought about what you said, on Monday, and you were right."

"Right about what exactly?"

"That I'd been looking at this whole thing in the wrong way, and what I wanted from it."

"And what have you come up with?"

"That I'd been living under some stupid illusion that it was all set up for me, to satisfy my own kinky needs and selfish cravings. I set out wanting to be submissive, to serve other people, but I've ended up being the powerful one, thinking these people are doing this for me, to satisfy my need to be humiliated not to satisfy their own desire to be in control. My God, I even wanted Richard to change for me, to fit in with my pleasure."

"You're being a bit hard on yourself..."

"No, I'm not, I've been selfish. Richard couldn't beat me but I looked for ways to urge him on, get him to be stronger with me. Even at the Boardroom, I loved it, having those people wanting to use me, do things with me, but not for their pleasure-to satisfy me. I was the one in control; they were all helping me get my thrills."

"It's not like that Kate; don't beat yourself up over this."

"But it was like that and now I've blown it. I've lost my chance to put things right. That saying was right you know: you don't know what you've got 'till it's gone."

"I'm sure it can still be sorted. When does Richard get back?"

"Tomorrow, but I don't know what he can do-if anything. I suppose I've learnt that they were in total control after all. It seems they also have the power to say no, and in this case they have. And now I'm powerless to reverse it, all I can do is keep begging for another chance. And I'm prepared to do that. I'll do anything to get back what I've lost."

"You have to keep at it Kate, I'm sure it can be worked out."

"Thanks, I hope so."

54

The traffic seemed to be fairly light for a Friday morning, easing the tension for Kate.

"How did you set this up"?

"I went to see Graham on my way back from the airport yesterday," Richard said.

"You're so good; I couldn't even get through his door."

"I can't promise anything will come of it, but we can give it a try."

"I don't deserve you, you know. I'm sorry for letting you down."

"I know, and we've been through all that, let's move on and see what we can do." Kate sat back and watched the city passing by. Grateful for the chance to even attempt an explanation of her failing. She swore to herself that any offer of retribution would be seized with pleasure.

Arriving with time to spare, they weren't invited to go straight through. Instead Grace asked them to wait in the reception area. Kate chose to take the hard upright chairs closer to the office rather than the more comfortable sofa. She sat with knees together and fingers curled into tight fists resting on her lap. She hoped that her impatience would not be too obvious.

Her mind was drawn back to the first time they sat there waiting. That was just before Grace had stood and watched her suck Eric; how much had happened since then. During the fifteen minute wait Kate's nervousness increased. In a failed attempt to distract her mind she watched Grace devote herself to her work.

Was that the whole point? Was the purpose of the wait to make a statement? Thankfully there was no more time to dwell on that one, the buzzer made her jump, and then it made her heart race.

"Mr. Weston will see you now, if you'd like to go through." Grace said, holding the door open for them.

"Thank you." Kate caught her eye as she passed. There was no smile just a barely noticeable nod. What did that mean? Was that good or was she just being polite?

"Hello Richard, nice to see you again," Weston said, smiling, as he rose from his desk, "Catherine." The one word greeting made her fearful. The atmosphere was not one of reconciliation.

"What can I do for you?" He knows very well what he can do for us, Kate thought, he just wants to hear it out loud, rub salt into the wounds. Richard stepped in.

"I'd like you to consider taking Kate back into service with Oakham."