Retrospection Ch. 02

The next few days were exasperating for both of them. Neither was willing to back down and the result was typically verbal battering, generally followed by either a spanking or him simply forcibly holding her in place while she screamed and bitched.

Jon knew he should be firmer and hit harder--but he also was constantly aware of his promise not to harm her. He personally felt that promise extended beyond just physical safety to encompassing emotional safety. Frankly, despite her semblance of holding it together regardless of circumstances, he recognized her emotional state was highly volatile and he sensed it wouldn't take much to push her over the edge into complete despair.

The girl had slipped into a state of completely focusing on survival by holding her ground. It wasn't rational and she knew that. But being sold to a stranger as a sex slave wasn't particularly rational either. She knew she couldn't win, but strongly felt she couldn't afford to lose. Not this time, after already losing so much. This time she had to fight harder. Maybe doing so would finally give her a way out of her own personal hell.

----

It didn't take much to get her wound up. This time he'd simply grabbed her when she attempted to push past him rather than politely requesting permission to walk out of the room. She never politely asked for anything, but that hadn't stopped him from continuing to demand that she do do.

"Leave me alone!"

He reached again for her, more determined this time, pinning her against the wall momentarily. She screamed at him and twisted around, slapping him hard in the face with an open palm. The fact that she's actually gotten a good hit in startled both of them. Finally he had reached the point where he was entirely too frustrated to continue the endless cycle of tension between the two of them. He was ready for a break.

"Well now pet, that can certainly be arranged, though it may take a bit of work."

While he had retained a good collection of his toys and training tools, he had done away with a formal dungeon long before moving into his current residence. But any individual familiar with basic children's fantasy literature would easily be aware of the impressive versatility of the storage areas under stairs.

He trussed her up suitably, using his belt to bind her legs together before firmly wrapping a simple necktie around her wrists, and another around her elbows just for good measure. She objected, quite loudly, to this process.

Fortunately, his supply of gags was reasonably accessible. He wondered, briefly, why he hadn't resorted to using one sooner. She swore and spit, jerking her head from side to side, but her resistance was utterly pitiful. It barely took effort for him to slip the ball gag in her mouth and secure it soundly around her head.

Once she was rendered incapable of any significant movement he gathered a few necessary tools, tossing them into a bucket retrieved from under the sink. Satisfied with his selections, he tossed the girl over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, hauling her down the stairs and depositing her on the bottom step. Then he went to work.

He wasn't particularly certain why his under stair storage space locked from the inside, but it took no time at all to flip the handle to ensure that it could be securely bolted from the outside instead. His camping gear was conveniently tucked away in a corner of the small storage area. He retrieved and unfolded a simple mat and foam mattress, tossing in a blanket and pillow snagged from the basement couch.

He finished up by positioning the bucket over a neatly folded tarp in the corner along with a half-empty box of Kleenex, leaving little ambiguity as to its intended use. When that was all said and done he deposited the wriggling package on the mattress, ignoring her muffled protests as he unbound her wrists and arms, leaving her capable of ultimately freeing herself fully. He flipped on the light--no need to make things more complicated than they have to be--before firmly shutting the door and twisting the latch.

----

At first the girl put up quite a fuss, yelling baseless threats and pounding on the door. He simply commanded Alexa to increase the volume on his preferred music selection to drowned out the racket. After a couple hours she must have given up, because the pounding stopped and the screaming dropped to an occasion shriek of frustration. He had no qualms about leaving her through the night, after all a mattress was a privilege more than many pets were granted.

In the morning he went about his usual routine pleasantly undisturbed for the first time in several days. Waiting until well after breakfast to attend to his pet, he threw a few protein bars and apples in a ziplock bag and grabbed a couple water bottles. She stirred and began her caterwauling when she heard his footprints on the stairs. He simply blocked the door with his body as he opened it, tossed the care package in her general direction, and left again.

That evening he gathered another bag of food and more water. This time, after tossing the food inside, he stepped in himself, neatly blocking the opening of the door long enough to grab the bucket, which she had made suitable use of. He dumped the contents, rinsed it and returned it to its place, all the while acting as though the occupant of the small space was not even present. She had asked to be left alone, who was he to ignore such a request?

---

At first when he came to deliver food and empty the bucket she screamed at him. By the end of the second day she'd been reduced to begging. He left her a third day, just for good measure.

She simply slipped backwards when the door opened, prepared to grab at the bag of food. Instead, he opened the door completely and stood in front of her.

"Are you ready to behave yourself now? I can give you more time to consider your options if you'd like."

She stiffened and gritted her teeth, her body language screaming obstinance. But internally she was relieved; not particularly about being let out of the room, though that certainly appealed. No, in reality she was simply desperate to even receive the tiniest bit of acknowledgment. Finally, she nodded determinedly.

"From here on out I am laying down the ground rules and they will be followed or you will be punished. Actually punished, not just a few swats over my knee. Understand?"

She considered him dubiously.

"Maybe I should know the rules I am agreeing to follow before promising not to break them?"

He considered simply closing the door and walking away again, but it wasn't an unreasonable request and it had been notably made without the use of profanity or shrieking.

"I will keep them simple. You will treat me respectfully, including both your behaviors and your words. No more fit throwing and swearing. If I give you directions you will follow them. If you are confused or distressed you may politely ask permission to speak freely. I will grant it, or not, and you will abide by my decision. When you do speak to me directly you will address me properly as sir or master, I don't particularly care which. Is that clear enough?"

She responded, reluctantly, but respectfully as demanded.

"Yes sir"

-----

He allowed her to walk behind him up the stairs and through the opulent living area towards an equally elaborate staircase. At the top there were several closed doors. He turned left and opened a door into his study. The room smelled of leather and cleaner, dark toned wood paneling lined the walls. The hardwood floor was polished meticulously. The top of the grandiose desk was organized obsessively, with not even a paper clip out of place.

He sat down in the leather executive chair and made himself comfortable before pointing at the floor next to the chair.

"Sit."

She still bristled at the command, yet obeyed immediately. As she did she noted the slightest hint of trepidation, coupled equally with a feeling of titillation in her stomach. She was generally disconnected from her body physically and absolutely emotionally. In this case, however, it seemed to her that the way her new master expertly, yet seemingly effortlessly, balanced disinterest with the presumption his command would be obeyed left her more than a little disconcerted.

And instead of sitting, she kneeled. That bit of defiance coupled with begrudging compliance managed a level of dissonance that kept both of them subtly off balance in more ways than one.

-----

The silence was deafening. The hardwood floors dug into her knees endlessly. She tried to ignore the pain, more out of spite than anything, but she couldn't hold out forever. She subtly shifted position and let out an almost inaudible moan.

His response was instantaneous, indicating she wasn't the only one who was feigning indifference.

"What's wrong pet?"

She grimaced at the debasing moniker, but kept her tone of voice carefully neutral as she responded,

"My knees hurt, sir."

"Hmm, I bet they do," he replied, chuckling ominously.

"And what do you think we should do about that?"

Her response came instantly and she proved effective at hiding her disdain, at least in the moment.

"Whatever pleases you master."

The promotion, from sir to master, did not go unnoticed and he smirked knowingly.

"I do so love when my little pets can demonstrate they are learning their place. Give it fifteen more minutes my dear, and if you still can manage to bite your tongue and bide your time your determination will pay off."

The girl remained stubbornly silent and he returned to his work, fully immersed and seemingly completely ignoring her reluctant, but dogged, compliance. It was actually closer to twenty minutes before he finally decided to reward her persistence.

"Alright my pet, you can relax. Make yourself comfortable however you wish, as long as you remain in reach."

She groaned, less than subtly, as she shifted to a sitting position, drawing her aching knees up against her chest protectively. He gave her no further attention for several minutes until he was confident she had settled into a state of uncertainly dropping her guard. At that point he reached down and stroked her hair, pointedly continuing his work as if his actions were mindless and not utterly and completely intentional. She bristled, abruptly tensing her shoulders, but laudably resisted the urge to pull away.

And so the afternoon continued, with her shifting as needed to reduce discomfort and him superciliously patting her head at unpredictable intervals. Finally, he had completed enough of his necessary work tasks to warrant calling it a day.

"Well now, pet, I did promise you a reward, and you've managed to actually earn it this time. Go ahead, you can stand again. Careful there, don't lose your balance."

He gently supported her by the shoulder as she rose to her feet.

"And what do we say when we are given a reward pet?"

Her tone wasn't nearly as controlled this time, but her response was also suitably prompt.

"Thank you master."

"Well then, I suppose since you are behaving yourself so beautifully you can continue to enjoy the presence of my company. Come join me in the kitchen while I start supper."

She took a seat at the bar where he pointed, as he began gathering ingredients and arranging them on the island. He found the act of cooking enjoyable and had no interest in passing on the responsibility, so he intended to continue his intermittent reinforcement as he went about his own tasks.

"May I help, sir?"

The offer was surprising, and he was momentarily caught off guard, wondering if he should chastise her for speaking out of turn. But, he acknowledged, in this specific instance he hadn't formally instructed her not to speak, and her desire to assist him seemed sincere, though he had no doubt she had as many motives for her seemingly innocuous actions as he did for his own.

Without responding verbally he grabbed a cutting board and handed her a knife. It was a simple paring knife, but both were fully aware that his intent was to tease her with the temptation of a tool to benefit her situation, specifically daring her to drop the facade of acquiescence. She didn't take the bait. Instead, she followed his instructions with exactness, carefully dicing and cubing as neatly as the dull blade allowed.

When the simple meal was complete he dished two plates and made a show of placing hers to the left of his seat at the table, pointedly drawing the chair closer to his own to ensure she remained easily within his reach. She sat without protest, an action that led him to determine that she was cooperative enough to permit additional freedoms.

"It's customary for two individuals to engage in small talk while sharing a meal. Go ahead, you may speak freely."

She wrinkled her forehead suspiciously before hesitating a reply.

"What do you want to talk about?"

He raised his eyebrows and stared her down, determined to push her boundaries and see how long she could play along with the discrepancy of the situation.

"You've been effectively silenced for three days, surely you can come up with a benign topic of conversation."

She looked at him, honestly baffled, as she wracked her brain for a topic of conversation more riveting than the weather, something she currently knew very little about after her days in isolation. Finally he broke the silence himself.

"Do you prefer missionary or doggy style?"

Intentionally, he reached over her for a dish slightly out of reach, brushing against her chest with his arm as he casually asked for her input.

"What?"

Shock. He wasn't surprised. But honestly, he'd expected a response more along the lines of profanity, not a straightforward expression of stupefaction.

"It's a simple question, really. You clearly are not a virgin. Unless you were raised in a convent and impregnated by insemination you presumably have engaged in intercourse. Which of the two positions do you prefer?"

She was clearly glaring at him now, her fork with it's abandoned bite balanced on the edge of her plate. He picked it up and held it in front of her mouth expectedly. Whether instinctual or a deliberate attempt to buy herself time to come up with a suitable response, she opened her mouth and permitted him to feed her without protest. The single bite apparently was enough time to decide on an acceptable response.

"I hardly call that a benign topic."

He shrugged, intentionally touching her on the shoulder as he reached unnecessarily for his napkin.

"I am of the personal belief that anyone unable to openly discuss sex at the dinner table is experiencing unhealthy levels of sexual repression. Then again, that's more opinion than observation. Most of the hovels I grew up in didn't even have a dinner table."

"My mother avoided the topic altogether and my step-father had other forms of education besides talking..."

She trailed off, suddenly realizing how his own disclosure had trapped her into revealing far more than she intended.

"Did he rape you?"

He perhaps should have waited until she was finished chewing to make such a blunt inquiry; her choking coughs led to a sputtering mess as the food exited her mouth.

He reached over and unhesitatingly wiped the food from her face with his own napkin, looking her straight in the eye as he did so.

"Would you st..."

She caught herself, breathing deeply and lowering her hands before she could push him away.

"Nice save, pet. And no, I won't stop."

He unabashedly reached out and gently stroked her breast with his fingertips before returning to his plate of food.

"I asked you a question."

He waited expectantly as he chewed.

"I am not having this conversation with you SIR."

He patiently ignored the disrespect, willing to allow it within reason if it coaxed her into providing him information that would assist in understanding her triggers and aide in furthering his plans for her training.

"I simply chose a topic of conversation based on your inability to come up with one yourself. Do you have a better suggestion or would you prefer to go back to not being allowed to speak altogether?"

She was breathing heavily now, completely ignoring the plate in front of her as she battled to regain a semblance of control over what he easily recognized as a pending anxiety attack. He didn't need vocal confirmation of the validity of his initial outright guess.

Time to play the empathy card. He pushed his plate aside and lay a hand gently over the clenched fist resting on the table.

"It is okay to talk about this with me. In case you haven't noticed, if I had wanted to rape you straight out myself I have had ample opportunity to do so. And I haven't."

Her shoulders slumped dejectedly.

"I seem to have lost my appetite. I think it's time to return to my room."

He patted her hand and smiled sympathetically before rising from the table, accepting her defeat. She followed him down the stairs without resistance, bending unprompted to enter her cupboard under the stairs--hardly a room even in generous terms. He grabbed the half-full bucket near the door before shutting it, stopping it just short of latching. He left it abundantly clear that she was confining herself to the hole by choice, without his command.

He wasn't sure if she would attempt to leave. She certainly wouldn't get far. But he also wouldn't fault her for trying. He knew, from personal experience, the intensity of the drive to escape one's past even when knowing failure is inevitable. Let her have the comfort of thinking she could try, if that's what she decided.

----

The girl didn't bother with the light. She simply dropped down onto the familiar mattress and curled up in fetal position. There were no tears, none of the familiar all-consuming anxiety, there was simply awareness of his sympathy coupled with seeming contempt. The juxtaposition of the two left her with a growing sense of unease and the inability to adequately prepare herself for the next time he would follow up a simple command with an inquisition she didn't care to address.

Instinctively, she reached down to caress her stomach, tracing her fingers along the still vivid stretch marks. The sensation of emptiness in her womb echoed the empty silence of her mind. She was simply too inundated with a confused mix of emotions to effectively sort out one from another. More than anything, she was tired. Not physically, but emotionally she felt completely drained.

She heard his steps on the stairs above her as he returned to the kitchen alone. At last, when it was silent, she closed her eyes and ultimately slept.