Ray Ch. 05: Abyss

He had violated her without a touch. She sank down into the bathtub, letting the water come up to her chin. The soreness in her muscles was fading, but her body felt weak. Too weak to wash her hair. Too weak to shave her legs. Too weak to pull herself up from the water when it began creeping towards her mouth.

He was slowly taking control. Taking every piece of herself she'd created. She stared into the white tile of the hotel shower. What part of her would be next? Perhaps it would be the part of herself she no longer offered to anyone. It had been ten years since she'd allowed a man inside her. Two had managed to take advantage of her naivety, but she had learned the lessons she was supposed to learn. At least Ben would be honest. He would never lead her to believe her pleasure was relevant to him.

A soft knock sounded on the bathroom door. She pushed herself up, leaving the water softly rippling over her breasts. "You can come in."

The door opened slowly, Ray's forehead creasing as he peered into the bathroom. "I just wanted to make sure you didn't need anything," he said, leaning against the doorframe.

"What did you think I may need?"

"I don't know." He bit into his lower lip, the hair on his chin sticking out towards her. She thought about how rough it always felt beneath her fingertips. "I could help you wash your hair, or your body, or help you shave... Whatever you need me to do, Mistress."

"Shave?" she questioned, sinking back down in the water. "You'll cut me."

"I promise I won't cut you."

"How can you promise that? How much experience do you have in the art of leg shaving?"

"I've never shaved a leg before," he said, taking a few more steps into the bathroom, "but I have a lot of experience shaving my face and my balls."

The smile felt strange on her face, as if her lips couldn't quite figure out what was happening to them. "I guess since you have experience shaving your balls..." She grabbed onto the edges of the tub, pulling herself back into a seated position.

He bent forward, grasping the back of his shirt then pulling it off over his head. Her eyes ran down his arms, remembering how the serpents had danced as he wrestled Ben to the ground. She wondered what it must feel like to be a weapon. A woman knew no such feeling.

He shoved his pants to the floor, the bars of his cage glinting underneath the light. The black ink on his leg was fading, needing to be renewed once more to last until the date was reached. She had never allowed him out when she didn't have him tied down. She couldn't risk losing control of the only part of him she thought would ever hurt her. He grabbed the razor and shaving cream out of her bag then stepped over the edge into the water, sinking down across from her.

Her toe traced over the names permanently inked onto his torso, making its way over the cursive E in Evelyn and A in Angelo. "Do you miss them?"

"Everyday." His hand wrapped around her ankle, pulling her leg out of the water and setting her heel down on the edge of the tub next to him. She waited for him to comment on the condition of her legs, but though they hadn't seen a razor in over a week, he covered them in shaving cream as if they were already flawless. His eyes focused on his task, his hands steady as he slid the razor smoothly over her skin.

She tensed when he began running the blade in short swipes over her ankle. "Be careful," she warned, ready to jerk her leg away.

His lips pressed against the side of her foot. "Please relax, Mistress. If you make me nervous my hands are going to start shaking." He pulled his hands away from her skin, making them tremble uncontrollably.

She weakly kicked out at him then brought her heel back against the porcelain. Her eyes wandered to his caged length, noticing it lifting slightly, hinting his offer wasn't all in innocence.

The razor ran over her knee, then higher, over her thigh. She watched it sliding over her skin, his hands as steady as they were when they had pulled the gun from her grasp. He twisted, beginning to work his way up the other side.

"Do you want me to keep going?" he asked, his eyes lingering between her legs.

She stood, the water rolling down her body until it landed with the rest. Then she sat down on the porcelain ledge, leaning back against the tile wall. She pulled her legs up with her, spreading them and resting her feet back down on opposite edges.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked, his hands gently pushing her thighs farther apart.

"Yes."

He smoothed the shaving cream over her, covering her with the rich lather. His tongue stuck out slightly to the left as he ran the razor over her skin, his breath steady and focused. The blade slid over her gently, carefully unveiling her folds. "Bare, right?"

"Yes."

His fingers brushed against her, moving her skin so the razor could slide safely over her. "Mistress..." he started, his voice unsure, "there was something I wanted to talk to you about..."

"Okay..."

"I don't like that you're having to stay in a hotel—"

"I'm not going home," she cut him off. "Not until he's behind bars."

"I don't want you to go home." He set the razor down, his task complete, then lifted himself onto his knees, bringing his face level with hers. "I want you to come stay with me." His eyes were soft, his soul pouring out with his plea. "Let me protect you. Let me serve you."

Her lips froze shut, refusing to allow her heart to blurt out an answer.

"Please, Mistress..."

********************

He took a sip of his coffee, the liquid already growing as cold as the air outside. He had failed. Again and again he had failed. For three years he had tried to prove himself worthy, and now she was farther away from him than she had ever been. He had held her trembling body in his arms, whispered promises to her he didn't know if he could keep. How could he catch a man he didn't know how to find? The only lead he had was a white car, a car he had found in a place that brought him no closer to where he needed to be.

"Are we just gonna sit here all night... Officer Ray?" Garrett asked from the passenger seat.

His hands tightened over the steering wheel. "If you call me that again, I'll punch you in the throat."

"Is it, like, a sex thing? You're Officer Ray and she's your prisoner?"

He ran his hands over his face, wondering how much longer his friends would continue to torment him about something they could never understand.

"Come on, tell me. I promise I won't tell Jake."

He shifted the car into park and shoved on the door, stepping out into the street. The houses surrounding him were old. Some had been well maintained. Others, like the one he began to approach, were showing their age. Faded blue paint peeled up in some areas, and he imagined the flowered curtains showing through the window had been there since the first owner decorated fifty years ago.

Garrett fell in behind him, refusing to give up the interrogation. "Why is this such a big secret? I've been your partner for five years and you've never mentioned her to me. Who is she? Where did she come from?"

His knuckles rapped against the white security screen. A television and muffled footsteps sounded on the other side of the door.

Curly grey hair and squinting blue eyes peered out at them through the holes in the screen. "Can I help you?" the woman asked, though by the roll of her eyes he assumed she knew why they were there.

"Hi, I'm Officer Bennett. This is Officer Carson," he started, trying to look past her into the house. "Are you Florence Whitmore?"

"Are you here to ask about my son?"

"Yes—"

"He isn't here and as far as I'm concerned, you all are morons for letting him out." Her hands moved to her hips, a frown of disgust frozen on her lips.

"Do you have any idea where he may be?" he asked, hoping she would give him a lead.

"Probably carving up some poor woman somewhere," she replied, then shut the door.

********************

The end of her scarf blew in the wind as she stepped out of her car. She shivered, tucking the stray strands of blonde behind her ears and smoothing the black woven fabric down over her chest. The heels of her black boots pounded down against the brick steps. She paused outside the red door, trying to convince herself she was stronger than she felt. The chime of the doorbell rocked through her even though it was she who had pressed it.

"Mistress," the collared man greeted her, stepping to the side. "Madame Victoria is ready for you. I'll take you to her."

She followed him up the staircase of the mansion, wondering why a house so big always felt so empty. Unlike the château, there was no movement behind these walls. At least not anymore.

Her heart was pounding through the silence, almost breaking through her chest when his hand turned the knob of the white door at the end of the hallway. He held it open as she passed through it then there he left her, staring into the back of a throne. A frail hand hung over the edge, the nails painted red. The color was the same as it always had been. Deep, like fresh poured wine.

"I know you're not waiting for me to call you closer, Natalia." Half a face tilted her way, the skin almost translucent over the high cheekbones.

She crept closer, inhaling the scent of vanilla that always lingered in the air whenever the red nails were near.

"Come where I can see you."

She moved to the front of the throne, holding back tears when she saw the woman seated upon it. A scarf woven with red and orange threads covered the now bare head where red hair used to flow like silk down to perky breasts. But there were no more lines of tension in the red shirt, the emptiness underneath still not enough to save a life.

"Don't look at me like that, Natalia."

She looked down at her hands. All the experience she had at keeping a neutral expression was failing her, leaving her eyes filling with tears she swore she wouldn't cry.

"You're supposed to lie to me like everyone else." Thin lips parted into a smile, the teeth underneath still as flawless as the rest of her used to be. "Tell me I still look young and vibrant. Tell me I look as though I'll live forever."

She looked up, searching for the brown eyes that only had so much time left to look back. "You look as though you'll live forever, Professor."

Professor Holland laughed softly. "Yes, I will. Only it will be vicariously through you, my beautiful Natalia."

"I may be following close behind." She said the words under her breath, wiping away the tears she had tried to hold in.

Professor Holland reached forward, her shaking hand grabbing the end of the black scarf. She pulled it gently until it fell to the floor. "Don't ever let a man collar you. I raised you better than that."

Her tears began to fall harder, dripping down her cheeks to the floor. "I can't walk around looking like a battered woman—"

"Enough." A red fingernail pointed to the floor. "Sit."

She hesitantly knelt down, then laid her head in her mentor's lap. Fingers like silk ran through her hair, calming the storm inside her mind.

"Talk to me."

She closed her eyes, imagining the vibrant voice was still coming from a youthful body. "Why Elise?"

"I had to give away my final card. I can't take it with me."

"Yes, you could," she argued, not ready to accept what couldn't be undone. "It isn't against the rules. You don't have to find three."

"It isn't about the rules." The voice was firm, still as steady as it always had been. "It's about continuing the community."

"You had me to take your place."

"A place you didn't want. Now Lexa sits in it."

She held her tongue. She wasn't strong enough to be a madame. There were times she was barely strong enough to maintain being a mistress.

"How's your Officer Ray?"

She shook her head, the tears once again trailing down her cheeks.

"He's in love with you. But you know that."

"He's in love with a person who doesn't exist."

The hands paused briefly then continued over her scalp. "How can you tell me a woman who is seated at my feet doesn't exist?"

"I can't always be what he needs me to be." For as selfish as she wanted to be, she would never let him drown with her.

"Your excuses get old, Natalia."

She began pressing down on her knuckles, focusing on the pop.

"Enough."

Her thumb froze over her ring finger at the harsh command.

"You are Mistress Natalia. She may be only one piece of the whole, but you're a woman. We're supposed to be made up of a thousand pieces. Let him see the rest."

"I don't even know what they are anymore." They were gone to her now, chased back into the abyss by a hand pounding at her door.

"Then let him find them again."

*******************

He pulled the two suitcases out of the trunk then began wheeling them towards his front door. He had barely slept since speaking with Ben's mother. Nightmares woke him throughout the night, haunting him with his helplessness. No matter how far he ran he could never find her. There were too many walls, too many people, too many mountains or too much water. Her screams could transcend it all, but his body could not. All he could do was run, racing towards the sound of her pleas, listening to the sound of the knife or chainsaw or axe as she was cut into a thousand pieces he would never be able to put back together.

But they were just dreams. He looked up, focusing on her standing on his porch. There she was, whole and safe, the image chasing the demons from his head. The hint of a soft smile played on her lips as she watched him maneuvering her luggage. A familiar pulse rocked through him, his prisoner acknowledging the smile as well.

The beeping started as soon as he opened the door. "The alarm," he said, motioning for her to follow him down the hallway. He stopped halfway down and pointed at the screen. "You have ninety seconds from the time you open the front door to punch in the code. The other doors and windows don't have a delay."

Her eyes scanned the touch screen. "What's the code?"

"My slave number. I'm sure you remember it..." He pushed the orange button, bringing on the incessant beeping once again. "Go ahead."

She quickly punched in the four digit code, bringing the beeping to a stop.

He headed farther down the hallway, gesturing to the two open doors. "Which bedroom would you prefer?"

"Isn't one of them your room?"

"Yes, but if you want my room I'll sleep in the other room." He didn't care where he laid his head as long as she wasn't more than a hallway away.

"I'll use whichever room isn't your room."

He walked back to the front door where he had left her suitcases then wheeled them into the room at the end of the hall. When he turned back she had disappeared, her footsteps coming from the kitchen.

"I went grocery shopping earlier today after you told me you were coming," he said, rounding the corner from the hallway to where she stood running her hand over the granite countertop. "I think I got everything you like. If I missed anything, write it on the list and I'll get it tonight." He pointed towards the refrigerator, indicating the pad of paper titled "Groceries" magnetically attached to the door.

She picked up the bag from her favorite bakery, conspicuously placed where he knew she would see it, and smiled as she peered inside. She stuffed half a peanut butter cookie into her mouth before heading towards the living room. She made her way to the blue armchair then sat down, pulling her feet in underneath her.

He handed her the remote from the table. "I don't have cable, but I have Netflix, Hulu and HBOgo. I'm sure you can find something—"

"I don't know how to use this," she interrupted, staring down at the foreign object in her hand.

He grabbed it and turned on the television. "Just hit "menu" and it will take you to this screen." He gestured towards the TV, the icons for the different services popping up. "Pick which one you want, hit select, then you can use the arrow buttons or search buttons from there."

She nodded in understanding, her eyes on the screen as she began scanning through the various options. He shoved the ottoman to the side and knelt down at her feet, bending forward to kiss her knee.

"No, don't," she said, shaking her head at him. "This is your house. I don't want you to be uncomfortable here."

"I'm more comfortable at your feet, Mistress, than anywhere else on this earth."

********************

She sat up, startled awake by a sound. The sun had already risen, illuminating the room around her as she strained to hear. As the sleep dissolved from her mind the light yellow walls of the room began to sink in. She looked down, releasing the grasp her nervous hands held on the white blanket. Dishes clanked in the distance, a faucet ran, footsteps thudded.

She reached over the side of the bed, picking her stretch pants and sweatshirt up from the floor. She dressed quickly as she made her way to the closed door, glancing once in the mirror to determine exactly how unpresentable she was. Her fingers combed roughly through her hair as she walked down the hallway towards the kitchen, wondering how all the noise could be coming from one person.

"Good morning, Mistress," he said with a smile from where he stood rinsing out a bowl.

She squinted, her eyes trying to adjust to the sight of a naked man so early in the morning.

"How did you sleep?"

She forced herself to look away from his cage, moving her eyes to the rest of the kitchen. "Good," she mumbled as she glanced over the counter. A coffee maker, spice rack, toaster and the bag from her favorite bakery were littered over it.

He walked towards her then knelt down at her feet. His head moved to the floor, his lips caressing the top of her foot before moving to the inside of her leg. "I'm glad, Mistress." He stood and began heading back to the hallway.

She watched him disappear then started pulling open the cabinet doors, searching for sustenance. Her hand grasped a box of Cheerios, taking it with her as she took a seat on one of the barstools at the counter. She ripped open the top and pulled open the bag, then began shoveling the tiny rings into her mouth.

A knock on the door made her jump up from the chair. She raced back towards the hallway, her heart tearing through her chest. He stepped out of his room in black running pants and a grey sweatshirt, grabbing her before she could go by and pulling her to him.

"You're safe, Mistress," his voice soothed, his mouth pressing into the top of her head. "I'm sorry. I should have told you. It's just Jake and Garrett. We go for a run twice a week."

She nodded into his chest, but the sound of another fist against the wood made her flinch beneath his arms.

"I'm coming," he yelled towards the door.

"Hurry the fuck up!" a voice yelled back.

His arms squeezed her tighter. "I'm going to tell them to go without me—"

"No," she said, stepping away from him. "It's okay. Go."

"No. I'm staying here—"

"No. You're not." She pulled up her chin, summoning Mistress Natalia from within her. "This isn't a discussion."

He bent forward, pressing his lips to her neck. "Yes, Mistress."

She straightened herself further as he opened the door, her heartbeat returning to its usual, methodical thud.

"What the fuck took you so..." The voice trailed off when the brown eyes found hers over Ray's shoulder. "Hi..."

She waved at the two men staring at her from the front porch.

"I'm sure you have already all met," Ray started, looking back towards her.

"Not officially. I'm Jake," the one she had known as Officer Olsen said, making his way towards her with an outstretched hand.

"Garrett," the heavier set of the two followed, his stomach more prominent under his t-shirt than it had been under his uniform.