The Rose Diaries Ch. 19

"I do." I nodded.

"Very well. Crybaby, am I going to have sex with you?" I glanced over at Mister Stone. He sat upright with his legs crossed on the bed. His tie was still tied, his shoes were still on, and his suit jacket was still on. I gazed into his eyes for the answer. It was there that I found it and my heart leapt with surprise.

"No, you aren't."

"Correct." He smiled. "You've certainly grown. You've won, Cherry-Blossom."

"Huh?" I balked at the strange address.

"Cherry-Blossom or Cherry for short. Your actual name."

"Oh." I lowered my gaze. "Thank you, Mister Stone."

"Cherry, you are among my finest girls. I knew that when I first laid eyes upon you. You are a piece of art. I will begin looking for suitable owners for you. But I wouldn't be surprised if there are already people who have their eyes on you. I give you my word that I will make sure you go to a kind man who will care for you."

"Thank you, Mister Stone."

"You may leave now. Walk away from this room a new woman."

"Thank you, Mister Stone." I repeated.

"Thank you, Cherry." He smiled. "Goodbye now."

That was the last time I ever saw my future adoptive father. The last words he ever spoke to me were words of genuine kindness.

It took four weeks before I was sold. By this point, you can very much guess the rest. I was sold to my future husband, Brandon Machart to be his slave. Brandon was too kind and too gentle to ever be someone's Master. He was just a man who lived in a large empty home and I was there to keep him company. I left Blackstone without a single word. I just walked through the front door and into his car like nothing had ever changed. But when he first laid eyes upon me, he blushed and offered me a seat. He stammered like a schoolboy and treated me as if I was a date not a slave. When I walked into my new home, I found a large bed in the center hall teeming with little playful balls of fur. With shaking clammy hands, Brandon told me that he heard that I had liked cats but didn't know what about them I liked so much. He didn't know if I liked quiet cats, affectionate cats, playful cats, lazy cats, fluffy cats, or even hairless cats so he had just bought them all.

I remember falling to my knees and sobbing out of joy when I saw them. It was the first truly kind thing anyone had ever done for me. Each little kitten was mine to hold and play with and I quickly found myself smothered by a warm furry horde of little plush balls that mewled for my affection and love. I remember when Brandon heard me crying that he approached me quietly and had confusion and fear in his bright brown eyes.

"What's wrong?" He spoke in a panicked voice.

"It's just I'm so happy." I cried. "Thank you."

"Oh! I thought you were hurt." He stepped back quickly but those words. Those simple words only made me cry harder.

"Oh no! I'm sorry!" He apologized.

"Thank you." I laughed through my tears. "Thank you."

I watched through tear stained eyes as my new owner in a state of panic ran to fetch a box of tissues before tripping and falling on to the floor on the rug. I just kept on laughing as he joined in too.

It was then that I knew that I loved him. But I didn't know how much I did until the first time he ever asked to share my bed nearly a year later. He was gentle then even inside me. Always asking if I was alright, always asking if I wanted this, and when I cried as I often did he would always have a tissue box nearby. It was the first time I had ever made love to someone. I thanked the stars every day for him.

A year passed then three then five and my life as Ms. Machart was nothing short of a fairy tale. I had a little army of cats that I cared for like they were my children. Brandon refused to refer to me as a slave. Instead, he promised me that this house was as much mine as it was his. I had asked him once before why on earth did, he buy a slave for a lover and he simply admitted that he thought it was the right thing to do. To help free someone in need. That he needed someone to love after his first marriage had failed.

Brandon never answered a single question I had about Blackstone. Not that I asked many. He just refused to acknowledge that part of my past. He just went about his life with a beautiful young girl on his arms and told me that's all he wanted. Just someone to love him back.

Sadly, my Brandon died suddenly and too quickly. In his will, he left me our home, his fortune, and his estate much to the chagrin of his actual family. To placate them, I gave his ex-wife and their children the house. They all called me names that I hadn't heard in years. "Whore, Slut, Bitch, Etc." but quickly accepted the house and the beach house. I didn't care. I had lost everything good in my life. The one thing that made me happy.

Brandon had left me a note in his will. He told me to seek my own freedom and to find my true self. At first, I did not know what that meant. But with nothing but time and money, I began to travel the world.

This only made my despair deepen. For no matter where I looked, I saw couples with together and living their best lives while I flitted around like a lost bird looking for a new nest. I never knew how much I truly loved that man. How much I missed the man who had bought me. But I did. Not to mention, I had changed so much. I had played with the idea of returning to Texas but what could I say? No, I knew that it was far too late to go back. Even if I changed everything, I would still be a part of Blackstone. I did not know anything about the outside world. I only knew sex and flattery. I was uneducated, without an ID, and no longer like anyone else alive. I couldn't dream of meeting another man. I couldn't dream of even trying to start a family. Not like I was now. Not like how I had become.

Eventually, I left from an airport in Saint Petersburg and returned back to the States. It was there that I was met by a lawyer who had one last piece of the will to give me. Brandon had known me too well. He knew that I was a lost soul. That I had nowhere to go. In his final note to me, he simply said.

"If you truly feel there's nowhere left to go and nothing to do. Then there's one place I know that will help you, Cherry. To find a new life."

With that note, Brandon had left me the address of Blackstone Estate. It was on a hot summer day that I had arrived back in those halls. I had called ahead and was told to simply wait in the lobby for someone. It felt odd to be a visitor of the house. To be free to walk out the door at any time.

"Hello." A girl my age called as she descended the steps with a smile. She wore black pantsuit and a white smile. She was beautiful, her features unlike a runway model with her long brown hair tied back with long intricate braids.

"Hello." I nodded. "I was told to wait here."

"Yes, I know. Cherry, was it?"

"Yes." I nodded again. "Cherry Machart."

"You were married?"

"Unofficially." I sighed. "But yes."

"That's beautiful. I'm not sure if you can tell but we're kind of busy so we'll only be able to talk for a short while. Would you follow me upstairs?"

"Of course." I nodded. "Are you a Master here?"

"Me?" She laughed. "No way. I'm Amanda Stone."

"As in Roger Stone?" My eyes widened.

"That was my dad, yes." She nodded.

"Was?" I cocked an eyebrow.

"He passed away last month." She sighed. "I didn't know him all that well to be honest."

"I'm sorry."

"Thank you, Cherry." She looked back with a smile as we ascended to the fourth floor. It was there that we walked past the empty rooms of what would become the Misses of Blackstone's bedrooms. That we ascended to the top of the spiral staircase into the admin's office.

Sitting behind the large desk with a cigarette in hand was an older woman with dark brown eyes and a look of disappointment in her eyes.

"Amanda!" She barked. Her voice rough and loud.

"Yes, Mother?" Amanda Stone called as she shut the door.

"We need a new chef."

"What's wrong with Ricardo?"

"He's a man."

"Oh, I see." Amanda sighed. "Alright, I'll start looking."

"Good." The woman I guess was Mrs. Stone sighed as she glanced at me. Her eyes were terrifyingly cold, and I could feel a chill go down my spine as I glanced back.

"Mrs. Stone." I curtsied clumsily.

"No." She shook her head. "Cherry, I will not allow you debase yourself like that."

"Ma'am?" I asked.

"You were one of my husband's favorites. Ever report from him praises you and the ground you walked on. Your owner, rather your husband, set you free did you not?"

"He did, yes."

"Then don't you dare kneel for anyone, girl." She growled. It was oddly inspiring rather than scary?

"Mrs. Stone and Ms. Stone," I gestured to the both as Amanda Stone joined her mother's side. "I was hoping you could provide some sort of guidance."

"Guidance?" Mrs. Stone took a slow drag from her cigarette. "Like what?"

"I've lost my home. My husband is gone, and I have nowhere to go. This is the only place I could think of that would accept me now."

"Why do you think that, Ms. Machart?"

"I was told to travel the world. To seek my own freedom but everywhere I go I just can't seem to shake the fact that I don't belong out there. I can't go back to society. I can't."

"Why not?" Amanda Stone spoke. "Is it money? Because we're not going to loan you a cent."

"No, I just," I paused. "I just don't belong. Everything that I know how to do came from here. As much as I hate to admit it this is where I belong."

"You belong here? After everything that my husband and his friends did to you. You belong here?" I paused as Mrs. Stone balked at my reasoning. But my heart was sure of it. Even if my mind didn't know up from down. I couldn't shake this nagging feeling. That Brandon wanted me to do something. And then it hit me.

"I want to help!" I nodded. "I want to help the future girls."

"You want to help?" Amanda Stone blurted out. "That's-"

"Genius." Mrs. Stone gasped. "That's absolutely genius. You do realize what I would ask of you to stay here, yes? You know what this place is?"

"I do. I want to help." I remained firm in my decision.

"Then I will let you stay but on one condition. You will assume a woman's role in my house fully and completely."

"I will." I nodded.

"Cherry, I will need you to become a woman. A full woman." She added. I clenched my fists at my side as I nodded again.

"I will." I repeated.

"She's going to need a name. I already have a Miss C." Amanda Stone added as she crossed her arms.

"Yes, she will. Do you have a name in mind, Cherry?"

"I," I hesitated as I searched my mind for the answer. "I do not."

"Hmm," Mrs. Stone took another long drag. "Katelynn."

"Katelynn?"

"Yes, because it says that you liked cats."

"Really mother?" Amanda cocked an eyebrow with a laugh. "Simple, isn't?"

"Nothing wrong with simple, daughter." Mrs. Stone laughed.

"I like it." I smiled.

"Good! I'll arrange for the proper doctors. Welcome to the family, Katelynn."

A few weeks later I was adopted into the Stone family and the rest...

well you know the rest by now, don't you?

-----

Blackstone Manor

Records Room

Present Day

Peter couldn't believe his ears. No, he wouldn't believe his ears. Yet as Miss K. tenderly closed the book, he just continued to stare with his mouth agape. His mind was a flurry with ideas and sentences that had yet to take form.

"Holy shit." Miss R. gasped from beside him. "Holy shit!"

"Please." Miss K. sighed. "Don't make a scene."

"Kat what the fuck?!" Miss R.'s eyes nearly bulged from her head as she ran her hands through her hair and leapt to her feet.

"Roxanne, please."

"No fucking way. Absolutely no fucking way. You were a girl? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Roxy, I was sworn to keep it a secret. I just didn't expect Master Grey to come back and-"

"Fuck that! I'm your friend? Does our friendship mean nothing? I told you about Terry!"

"But that's different."

"How is that different?" Miss R. hissed. "How is that different?"

"Because you're now the only people who know about that. You, Doll, Mrs. Stone, and Amanda." Miss K. narrowed her eyes. "Because you're my friend Roxanne and I trust you completely."

"I won't accept that!" Miss R. screamed. "You lied to me! You lied the entire fucking time!"

"Roxanne," Miss K. sighed shaking her head. "It's not fair and I know. I hated keeping it from you because

I'm not ashamed of who I am. Nor who I was. But my mother made me swear this to secrecy and you, better than anyone, know how serious she can be."

"Oh." Miss R. muttered. "I get it."

"Yeah! So, just promise me you'll keep this quiet." Miss K. spoke in an annoyed tone. As if this was such a simple thing to process.

"I will but what about Doll?"

"What about her?"

"Well, can you trust her?" Miss R. sighed.

"I'm working on that. Would you mind giving me a moment with her?"

"Yeah sure. I need something to drink anyway." Miss R. spun quickly on her heels and left the room without another word.

"Doll?"

"No." Peter's mind finally began to clear up. "Don't you fucking dare talk to me."

"Excuse you?"

"You're one of us? You've been through this hell and you have the fucking audacity to treat me the way you did? You knew exactly how it felt to be beaten, humiliated, and raped?"

"I hate that word, Doll." She narrowed her eyes. "Watch your tone."

"Fuck you! You had gotten out and you fucking came back! Why?! What help are you giving us when you're the fucking main torturer." Peter heard his collar beep but didn't even care to steady himself for the oncoming pain. Instead, he let it wash over him like an old friend coming to visit. A side-effect of long interment in this hellscape. Miss K. was a man? Even worse, Miss K. was a girl of the house?

"Are you finished?"

"Fuck no." Every little instinct that Peter had worked on began to fade as he fury consumed him wholly. He could barely contain himself from throttling the life out of this bitch.

"I am helping. I am helping each and every one of you."

"You call helping to continue to torture us? You could've set us all free? You could've killed the Stones and ended this."

"Why would I do that? The Stones are my family."

"WHAT ABOUT YOUR ACTUAL FAMILY?!" He roared. "Or did you forget about them, Arnold?" He had never seen Miss K. so quick to anger. But when he had uttered that name, she was on him in seconds.

"Let me be absolutely clear, Doll. If you ever call me by that name again, I will tear your dick off and shove it down your throat. Don't you dare open your fucking mouth again or I will tear off your clothes and feed you to goddamned wolves in the room next door." She growled.

He could only nod in response.

"Do you realize what I'm doing? I'm giving you another life. It's what I realized my husband wanted me to do all along. You and I were born into nothing. You and every girl in this house were nothing before you came here. What was so important to you? A life in a retail store with no hopes of a love life just wasting a way in a tiny apartment. But now? You'll be richer than you possibly imagine, you'll be sitting in the lap of luxury. You'll have houses that you could only dream of sleeping on the busted-up mattress. No worries about hunger, taxes, jobs, or bills. Don't you see the life that is in front of you?"

"Miss K." Peter sighed. "I will never be happy with that."

"You don't understand, Doll. You were destined for a life of mediocrity and failure. This is the best thing that will ever happen to you. You should fall to your knees and thank me for this opportunity."

"Fuck you."

"This is the price that we all must pay. This is the price of joy."

"And what if I don't want your joy?" He growled.

"It's never been about what you want. You'll realize that in time."

"So that's my life, huh? Being some rich man's bitch until he dies?"

"No, I can't say that's how it'll end. I know that you're just as likely to reject the easy road."

"Listen to me, Miss K. I will never break like you. I will bring you all down. I promise."

"Always the hard way, right Doll?"

"Till the day I fucking die, Miss K."

"Why fight against a happy ending?"

"I am fighting for my happy ending." He snapped back.

"Is that so?"

"Yes." Peter could only feel his anger rising. "It is."

"Such a shame then, Doll." Miss K. sighed. "That you don't get to write it."

NEXT TIME THE FINALE OF ACT 2: Pressure