Ray Ch. 07: Mercy

"Yes, that's fine." She waited as he pulled open the doors to each bedroom, watching his expression as he wandered inside.

"These will need some... fixing... if you go public with the listing." His hands wrapped around the bars of the cages, his eyes running over the restraint chains attached to the walls. "Are you going to sell the furniture?" he asked, eyeing the wooden footboards of the beds.

She stared at the three holes in each, made to resemble medieval stocks. "Yes."

"I'm interested in one of the beds."

She nodded, moving away from the door to make her way back to the stairs. Her hand slid over the smooth railing, the sound of her heels harsh against the steps. She kept her eyes on the white doors at the top, remembering how many times she had been scolded for watching the floor as she walked.

"If you continue to look at the ground, I can send you to Château de Gourmandise," Professor Holland would tell her every time she stumbled in the heels she never thought she would master. "Maybe that's where you would prefer to be?"

"I don't understand why we have to wear heels," she would argue as she wobbled. "We're the dommes. Why can't we wear what we want?"

"Because it is you who has to be worthy, not the other way around."

Her heart stopped, Professor Holland's voice driven from her head when Roland's hand jiggled the handle on one of the doors in front of them.

"It's locked," he said, trying the other side.

"I'll have to find the key." The key would be where it always rested in the jewelry box beside Professor Holland's bed, but she wasn't ready to open the sacred doors.

"Is this the—"

"Yes."

He nodded, frowning. "I've been looking forward to seeing it. I've heard so much about it. You don't know where the key is?"

She pulled her shoulders back, lifting her chin, daring him to continue questioning her.

"I'm sorry, Mistress," he mumbled, his eyes moving to the floor.

She wished her Ray was next to her, his presence steadying her legs as she walked towards her old room. But he was too far from her side, back in his uniform, trying to save her world.

Roland poked his head through the open door then moved farther into the room. "Nice..." The floor creaked as he walked over it, a sound she had heard many times. "Big room."

The blankets were smoothed down on the bed. Greens and blues. The color of the earth, alive and thriving. The furniture still sat where she remembered it, unused since she had moved out after buying the house she could no longer live in.

"Big bathroom, jacuzzi tub, shower, walk-in closet..." He continued listing the details as if she had never laughed from the chair in the corner as a slave stripped down at her command, or cried herself to sleep in the giant bed when her demons wouldn't release her soul, or moaned as a well trained servant proved his worth with his tongue on the rug in front of the dresser.

"Did anyone live with her other than the slaves?"

"No." She closed the door as they walked out, waiting in the hallway while he peered into the other bedrooms.

"All are really nice."

The last set of doors at the end of the hall was already open, leaving no barrier between herself and the scent of vanilla lingering towards her. It surrounded her, holding her, pulling her towards it, but the throne was empty when she stepped inside.

"Wow." His head rocked back as he looked up to the vaulted ceiling then down to the four poster bed.

She held her tongue when he stepped on the patterned rug at the foot of the red throne. It was a place she had run to countless times, weeping at the feet of the one person she would ever kneel to.

He pulled open the doors on the balcony, the cold air striking her skin. It carried the same scent it had the first time she had stood staring out at the rolling hills, fresh and green. It had been warm, kissing her skin one final time before the sun disappeared.

Professor Holland had stood next to her, the wine glass steady in her hand as the summer air stirred the long branches of the willow trees. "I kissed my first boy under a willow tree."

She turned towards her mentor, watching the red hair shift over her face in the breeze.

"I spanked my first man underneath one as well."

"How did you end up in the community?"

"My grandmother."

"Your grandmother?"

"I'll make it my top priority, Mistress," Roland's voice interrupted her thoughts. "I'll have a listing price prepared for you by tomorrow afternoon."

She nodded, the lingering scent of vanilla burning her heart.

***

He shoved the shirt to his uniform into his duffle bag, pulled on a sweatshirt and slammed his locker shut. It was time to go home. It was time to be where he belonged. His cage had been his reminder throughout the day, teasing and tormenting him, making sure he didn't forget what awaited him at home. It kept the need alive, lingering deep inside him, keeping her taste at the forefront of his mind. It pulsed through him, growing louder and louder until it was screaming for her scent. He'd smear it over himself, mark himself, walk around smelling of his goddess for as long as he could.

"Your phone's ringing," Garrett said, following behind him to the parking lot.

He paused, the faint sound catching his ear. His hands pressed down on his pockets, trying to figure out where it was coming from. He threw his bag onto the backseat, the ring growing louder when he unzipped it. Roland's missed call was lighting up his screen, illuminating the inside of his bag.

"Hey Ray—"

"What's wrong?" he cut him off, his nerves instantly on edge.

"Nothing's wrong. I just got done looking at Madame Victoria's house with Mistress Natalia—"

"Hold on a minute." He pulled the phone away from his ear, turning to Garrett.

"Everything okay?" Garrett asked, glancing at the screen.

He nodded as he pulled open the door to his car. "See you in the morning." He slid down into the seat and turned on the ignition, waiting for Garrett to move out of earshot before bringing the phone back to his ear.

"Hey," he said into the receiver as he backed out of the parking lot.

"I just wanted to let you know Mistress Natalia seemed really upset," Roland started again. "You may want to check in with her."

He turned onto the main road, pressing the gas pedal down.

"I asked if she wanted to wait, but she walked me through the house anyway."

"Other than her seeming upset, everything else went okay?"

"Nobody tried to attack us if that's what you mean."

It was exactly what he meant. Ben was out there, somewhere, waiting. Every time he left his house and examined the vehicles lining the road, he could feel the eyes on his back.

"Please don't tell her I said anything. I don't want to get in trouble."

He hung up and dialed her number, wondering if she was home. He chewed on his lip at each unanswered ring, desperate for the sound of her voice.

"Hi, this is Natalie. Please leave me a message..."

***

The wine sloshed in her glass as she made her way back up the stairs. She pulled open the door to Professor Holland's room, a cold breeze hitting her face. She left the balcony doors open as she sat down on the patterned rug, bringing the wine glass to her lips.

Her fingers slid over the rough fibers, tracing over the intricate patterns of reds and oranges, yellows and blues, mindlessly losing herself in their loops and curves. There was no brown, no beige, no camouflage. Her gut twisted, the tears no longer willing to be restrained. She stared out to the willow trees, their branches dancing with the wind. The shoes fell from her feet as she closed her eyes, the scent of vanilla flowing through her lungs.

"My beautiful Natalia with the white blonde hair." She could still hear her voice, and feel the red fingernails trailing over her skin. "Like a daughter of Zeus."

"My mother never told me a story about being raped by any swans, though Zeus is as good a guess as any."

Shattering glass made the caress of the fingers disappear. Her stomach tightened, the air around her thickening. She poked her head out from behind the throne. Slow steps wandered below her, creeping up from the foyer. Her eyes scanned her surroundings, searching for a weapon. She moved barefoot across the floor, grasping a bronze candelabra off the dresser as she made her way to the closet. She closed the door behind her and locked it, leaving herself in darkness.

The pounding of her heart made it difficult to hear the footsteps moving through the house. She shoved herself into a corner, huddling between the hanging clothes as anger fought with her fear. "I don't understand why I have to continue working at that house!" she used to scream through her sobs. She hated the way they looked at her, the way they reminded her of all she wanted to forget.

Professor Holland would lean down towards her, brushing the hair away from her tear streaked face. "Because to be a goddess you need to learn to hold your head high, even when you're dancing with the devil."

Her hands tightened around the candelabra, the footsteps getting closer. They paced through the hallway, falling away then moving closer. Her sweating palms slid over the bronze as the steps moved out to the balcony. A brief pause brought silence as she pictured him peering over the edge, seeing if she decided to jump to her death rather than face him. Then they began again, muffled as they stepped over the patterned rug before hitting against the hardwood.

The door handle giggled, the movement ripping the breath from her lungs. Her teeth bit into her lip, holding in the scream forming in her throat.

A bang tore through the air as the closet door flew open, the handle smashing through the wall. Light flooded in, illuminating his face as he stared down at her. "Hello, Temptress."

He charged towards her, easily closing the space between them. She jumped up, swinging the candelabra at him. His hands wrapped around it, attempting to tear it away from her. She stumbled to her knees, refusing to let go as he tried to jerk it free. It was the only hope she had, and helplessness tore through her when he finally pried it free from her hands.

His body crashed into hers, knocking the air from her lungs as he threw her to the ground. She reached around her, grasping for anything she could find as he climbed on top of her. Her fingers wrapped around a box, too solid to be one of the shoe boxes lining the bottom shelf. With every ounce of strength she could manage she smashed it into his head, shattering it. A rich brown collar landed on her chest, the initials SC burned into the leather.

He grunted, grasping at his wound. She rolled to her stomach, trying to scramble to her feet, but his weight was still crushing into her hips. He reached down, grabbing the collar from the floor next to her. She tried to shove her fingers between the leather and her skin as he wrapped it around her neck, her breath disappearing as he pulled it tight.

Her nails slid over the furniture, down the rough walls, digging into the floor, clawing at anything they could reach as he dragged her from the closet. The world started to go black, leaving her with nothing but the feel of the cold wood beneath her body.

Her hand wrapped around one of the stair railings as he dragged her into the hallway, the resistance jerking the leather from his hands. Air flooded her lungs as the collar fell from her neck. She scrambled to her feet, blindly running into the blackness she'd been left with. A narrow hole came back to life in the center of the darkness. She saw the gold door handle before she crashed through the blurred white, her head slamming into the old floor when her arms were too weak to catch her.

When she opened her eyes his grey shoes were a foot from her face, the blue of his jeans blurring before her. She pushed herself into a seated position, looking up to his face. His eyes were wide, staring into the distance. The curve of his lips began to show itself, revealing the yellow of his teeth. She turned slightly, surrounded by blurring red and black, already knowing what she had done.

"Welcome to the inquisition," Professor Holland had always said, her scarlet lips parting into a smile.

***

His teeth bit into his lip as he stared at the empty curb in front of his house. He pressed down on her name on the screen of his phone once again, not surprised when her voicemail answered for the hundredth time.

He pulled back onto the main road, trying to stop the images from flooding his mind. Maybe she just wanted to spend some time by herself in the house. Maybe she was saying her goodbyes in the place she felt the most comfortable.

The green light changed to red at his approach, bringing him to another stop. He picked up his phone again, staring at the empty screen. He began to scroll, hunting for a different number to calm the panic pulsing through him.

"Avalon County Police Department non-emergency line, how can I help you?"

"Elaine, this is Officer Bennett. Have any calls come through dispatch for any locations in Willow Hills?"

"Let me check."

He rolled through the light when it turned green, contemplating turning around and going home. He knew too much about grief and wanted to give her space if it was what she needed. It was unfair of him to expect her to remain locked away at home just because it kept his mind at ease.

"There was a call about an hour ago. Someone dumped a car on Ravenwood Drive."

"What kind of car?" He swerved into the right lane to cut down a side road, waiting to hear the description of her rental car.

"1992 black Toyota Camry."

He hung up, stepping on the gas. It wasn't her car, but the unknown only increased his paranoia. If she wanted to be left alone, he would patrol the outside of the house while she mourned inside. He picked up his phone, pressing her name once again.

"Hi, this is Natalie. Please leave me a message..."

***

Her heart brought her to her feet, beating for her to run as if she still had a chance. But as she climbed over stretching racks and dodged iron maidens, she knew there was no escape. There was no green. No yellow. Only red.

The door seemed miles away when his fingers locked in her hair, bringing her slamming to the floor when he jerked her backwards. Her nails clawed into his wrists as he dragged her back through the room. A flash of silver crossed her vision, too quick for her to comprehend until the chain dug into her throat.

"Heel, Temptress," he mocked, jerking the end of the chain.

Drool trickled down her chin as she tried to breathe. She rolled to her knees, grabbing the slack in her hands as she tried to back away from him.

"Heel!" He jerked the chain again, pulling her body closer to where he stood.

She sucked in the air when the chain loosened, the black once again dissipating to the edges of her vision. He reached up, pulling one of the suspension hooks down from the ceiling and hooked it through the chain. Her breath caught in her throat as he moved to the crank.

He grabbed the handle, his smile radiating towards her as he began to turn the lever. "How delightfully old fashioned."

The creek from the wheel thundered through her head as the chain wrapped around it, dragging her across the floor. She stood up on shaking legs as the chain tightened around her neck, rising up on her toes when he continued to take the slack. She clawed at the metal, desperate for air, sucking it in as fast as she could when the wheel stopped turning. Her toes pressed into the floor, cramping as they held up the weight of her body.

His hand trailed through her hair, pulling it to his face. "What a beautiful sacrifice you made for me," he said, inhaling the scent as his eyes stared through her own.

She jerked her head away, swinging from the chain when her feet slipped on the wood beneath them.

"And this dress..." His hand moved underneath her skirt, his fingers grazing over the thin fabric separating them from the skin between her legs.

She squeezed her thighs together, shoving her hips away from his touch.

"Squirm for me, Temptress."

The tears flooded down her face, no part of her left in denial as his fingers pushed the fabric aside and ran over her bare skin.

"What beautiful tears you're crying for me." His hand moved from between her legs to her face, wiping the moisture from her cheeks before bringing his fingers to his mouth. "Let's see if you will scream for me, Temptress."

***

The mansions of Willow Hills rolled by out his window, surrounded by iron fences and brick walls. He turned onto Ravenwood Drive, slowing when he saw a police cruiser and small group of people surrounding an old black Toyota. He pulled to the curb, eyeing the car. Its age and wear were odd in a neighborhood of the rich, though it would blend right in on his own street.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, approaching the only familiar face he saw.

"Officer Bennett," the uniformed man said, reaching out his hand, "what are you doing out this way?"

"Just driving around," he replied, accepting the handshake. "What's going on?"

"Some asshole dumped his piece of shit car in front of my house!" an older woman yelled from the sidewalk. "I want it towed!"

"I'm sure Officer Lawrence will take care of everything," he replied, gesturing towards his comrade as he circled the vehicle.

"I think he just broke down," a woman in jogging attire said, picking up her dachshund as she rolled her eyes.

"He didn't break down! He stole it and dumped it here! I heard the cop talking on his radio thing!" the old woman fired back.

His gut twisted, his muscles tensing as he peered through the windows. "Did anyone see what he looked like?"

"Young guy. Twenties probably. Jeans and a t-shirt..."

A familiar grey sweatshirt caught his eye, tossed carelessly onto the backseat.

***

The sound of the zipper on her dress brought more tears flooding down her face. He forced her hands away from her neck, pulling the thin straps over them. The dress fell from her body, landing in a heap on the floor beneath her. She tensed as he circled her, wondering how much longer she would be allowed to wear the black lace covering the part of her she knew he wanted most.

She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the feel of his hands on her body. When all that touched her was air, she opened them again.

"Don't worry, Temptress," he started, smiling as he moved away from her, "we have plenty of time for that." He made his way to the far wall, his eyes running over the various instruments displayed over it.

She pushed up harder on her toes, trying to see what he was reaching for. His hand wrapped around the handle of a flogger, pulling it down from the wall. He ran the falls through his fingers, the oiled leather shining in the dim light.

She inhaled as deeply as the chain would allow when he approached. His arm flew back without warning, his untrained hand bringing the tails down across her stomach. The ends wrapped back, the studs assaulting her back. She gasped as the sting seared through her, losing her balance and choking as her heels hit the ground.

"What a beautiful sound, Temptress." He lifted the flogger again, circling her body. "Let's see how loud it can get."

Her fingers clawed at her neck, trying to get between her throat and the chain as she pushed back up on her toes. The flogger came down across her shoulder blades, the out of control tails whipping back into her face. Her head jerked back, the studs stinging down her cheek. Her knees buckled when the leather struck her spine. She gasped for air, trying to regain her balance as she choked.

"Straighten up, Temptress."

Her toes pressed into the floor, her lungs screaming as she inhaled. The oxygen was ripped from them once again, firing from her mouth in a scream as the flogger cut into her chest.