The Maid Ch. 05-06

"You know it's the truth, Holly," said Carla. "Say it. Say, 'You love me.'" Her voice was calm but firm, like a mother talking her toddler out of a dangerous situation.

I tried to obey, but I couldn't. Looking in her eyes, I could see that Carla meant what she said. So, why couldn't I say she loved me? Because saying those words would require me to open up my very, very deepest, darkest secret. A secret I hadn't had the guts to face since I was a little girl. A secret so terrifying, I'd locked it away in a vault and buried it so deep I could pretend it wasn't even there at all.

The secret that someone could love me.

Not half an hour before, I'd submitted to Carla completely. That meant I had to do whatever she wanted. Right? But now, she'd dug up the vault containing my very, very deepest, darkest secret, and she was demanding that I open it for her. It was too much.

"Say the words, Holly," she said. "Say, 'You love me.'"

Boys, of course, have been telling me they love me ever since I sprouted boobs. But I learned pretty quick that "I love you" is just a polite way to say "Let's fuck." Even the sincere ones -- the ones who'd cried, who'd promised, who'd insisted they were different from the others -- had lost interest once they'd been in my panties a few times. Besides, how on earth could anyone really love me, when no-one really knew me? When anyone with half an ounce of sense would run like crazy once they figured out how mixed up I am?

One thing I appreciate about Sir and Mistress is that they don't complicate things with a lot of emotional gobbledygook. I'm their maid, end of story. Now, don't get me wrong. They treat me better than anyone else ever has, and they've proven dozens of times I'm right to trust them as deeply as I do. They take care of me, and they care about me. But love? No.

"Say it, Holly," Carla insisted. "Say, 'You love me.'"

My usual objections didn't hold water. I'd given Carla all the sex she wanted, so she couldn't be after that. And even though she knew as much about me as anyone ever could, she hadn't run away.

But if I admitted my very, very deepest, darkest secret, if I admitted that someone could love me, then who was I? I'd carefully constructed my whole life around the certainty no-one could ever love me. If Carla loved me, then everything I ever knew might come crashing down.

I squirmed against Carla's grip, but she held me firmly in place. "Don't fight me, Holly. Say the words."

I knew Carla was capable of holding me down for hours, if that's what it would take to make me obey. I tried again to speak, but the vault containing my very, very deepest, darkest secret wouldn't yield, even to the power of Carla's calm, insistent voice. "I'm sorry, Miss Carla. I can't," I said.

"Yes, you can," she said. "You can, and you will. You know it's the truth."

My heart ached. I'd have done anything to stop the relentless assault of Carla's voice. Gathering all my strength, I managed to squeak out, "You love me." The words were barely a whimper. But they were enough force open the door to the vault just the tiniest crack.

"Say it again, Holly," said Carla. "I need to know you believe it." Tears welled in my eyes. "You know it's true," Carla insisted.

"You love me," I said again, this time holding Carla's gaze. The door to the vault creaked open another half an inch. "You love me." And with that, the vault crumbled to dust, and my very, very deepest, darkest secret stood naked, where I had no choice but to face it.

Someone could love me.

"You love me," I said one more time. And I broke into sobs.

Carla rolled off me and gathered me into her arms. "It's OK, Holly," she said. "I'm here with you." She nestled my head against my breasts and stroked my hair as I cried. "I do love you, Holly. I've always loved you. And I always will love you."

Later, I realized that Carla was the first person ever to tell me she loved me without expecting anything in return. Everyone else wanted something -- some promise or other, some assurance I loved them back, sex, something. For a long time, I didn't realize how incredible it was that to Carla, saying "I love you" was simply telling me a truth about herself, nothing more.

*********

When I woke up an hour or so later, it took me a moment to realize why I felt so light. And then I remembered. Everything was OK. My very, very deepest, darketst secret was out. Someone could love me. Someone did love me.

Carla loved me.

I smiled, remembering everything that had happened, and thinking about what it meant for the future.

Then a cloud appeared on the horizon. There were less than three weeks left until we went home. What then? I knew I couldn't give up my submission to my owners, and I was sure Carla couldn't either. But what about my submission to her? What we'd just shared meant more than any slave contract. The feelings we had for each other wouldn't run their course in three weeks or three months or even three years.

Carla was incredibly smart about everything. She must have thought about that. Right? She must have a plan. Right?

I nudged her. "Miss Carla?" I whispered. But she was asleep.