The Text Message Ch. 01

"I'm so sorry," she stammered in between the sobs. "I really thought I had got rid of him for good."

"It's ok. I'm happy I could help."

"I'll pay you back for this."

"Don't worry about that. Do you want to speak to the police?"

"No, it's not worth it."

I've never understood women who accepted such treatment. In my eyes, men who beat women are some the lowest scum on earth, only surpassed by child abusers.

"But this is a case of battery."

"It's not the first time. The last time he did it, I broke up with him."

"I'm sorry. I really am. Do you want me to take you home to your place?"

"I can't go there anymore. He waited outside the apartment block for me. He might still be there."

"Do you have any place where you could stay?"

"I don't know. I'll have to make a few calls. Maybe I can crash on somebody's sofa."

"You can stay at my place if you want to. I have an extra bedroom."

I didn't mention that I only had one bed because the extra bedroom served as my study and office. She would learn that when I set out to camp on the couch as I didn't intend to exploit her situation. I genuinely wanted to help.

"You've done so much already. I can't burden you with even more troubles."

"Nonsense. You stay at my place."

"Ok," she complied.

I asked the receptionist to call us a cab and led her outside to wait. I took the opportunity to ask a few questions and found out that she was twenty-three years old, unemployed because her ex now knew where she worked and had lived more or less from hand to mouth in the last few months. She usually just about managed to pay her bills, the rent and get some food by working part-time at minimum wage and admitted, highly embarrassed, that before she broke up with her Ex she had regularly made drug runs for him which was the reason why money had been extra short lately.

While we drove to my flat I filled her in on the cornerstones of my life: the marriage, Doreen's depression and suicide attempt, the cheating, the divorce, the stalking and the fleeing.

We kept on chatting while I led her to my apartment, unlocked and opened the door.

"Mi casa es su casa," I motioned with my arm for her to enter.

I didn't miss that she hesitated for a fraction of a second before walking across the threshold and assumed that she expected me to ask for certain services as repayment and had just accepted her fate.

Alicia

I've done it. Finally. After five years of hoping he'd change to become the Master I needed, I've left him. Justin wasn't the kind of Master I needed. He was violent, unrestrained, insecure and short-tempered. He'd never be the confident, considerate, caring man I needed to look after me.

I didn't mind if he got rough during sex: pulled my hair, forced his cock down my throat, slapped my ass or came on my face. I even liked that.

But beating me after a customer failed to pay for his drugs or his trader demanded more sales was wrong. And he has done it repeatedly. I had to leave him but what should I do now? I couldn't take care of myself, I've always had somebody look after me. First my Mum, then for a short time my Dad and then I let Justin convince me that he could do it in Dad's place.

I was fortunate that Tyra took me in. She had urged me to leave Justin for quite some time now. She was a lesbian. Maybe she would accept me as her sub?

Absentmindedly, I took my cell phone from my purse and started typing a message to my Dad. I've done that regularly since he died just over a year ago. It helped me focus and find the most important questions to ask myself.

'Dear Dad, I hope that things have gone better for you than they have for me lately. I just broke up with Justin after he beat me up again. Love A.'

A minute or two later, my cell announced an incoming text. Most likely it would be Justin, trying to force me back under his thumb.

I was shocked when I found out that my Dad had actually replied and opened the text with shaking fingers.

'Dear A., you seem to have mistyped the number because I'm definitely not your Dad. Nick.'

Oh, shit. My Dad's number had finally been reassigned. I had just burdened a total stranger with my problems. I would get punished...

No. There was nobody who would punish me, I thought with despair. That was the problem. Nobody who looked after me, nobody who told me what to do, nobody who disciplined me for misbehaving or rewarded me for good services.

But that guy deserved a reply. He had assumed I had used a wrong number and had been caring and friendly enough to tell me.

'I'm sorry to have disturbed you, I will not bother you again. This used to be the number of my deceased Dad and I regularly sent him messages of what is happening in my life. A.'

I didn't expect another reply but when my cell beeped to announce another text, I looking forward to reading it.

'If it makes you feel better, you can keep writing him. I don't mind. It sounds like a great method to handle the grief.'

As if I could burden him with my problems and sorrows. I decided not to reply again and I certainly wouldn't write him again. That would be so wrong. I just needed to find a new and better Master than Justin and everything would finally be great.

For the next few weeks, I tried hard to become the sub for Tyra but she wouldn't take me. Just the opposite. She tried to convince me that I didn't need a Master or a Mistress. That I was worthy to take my own decisions. She didn't understand that being a sub was just as little a choice for me as being a lesbian was a choice for her.

I managed to seduce her a few times and she taught me a lot on how to pleasure a woman but she always insisted on me being a self-reliant person. After a couple of weeks, she started to demand from me that I participated in the costs of living, she refused to take care of me, she just couldn't afford it. But I still couldn't leave the apartment as I assumed that Justin was still looking for me. How should I earn money?

Crying, I sat on the mattress in my corner of the room and, without realising what I did, started texting my Dad.

'Dear Dad, life hasn't been nice to me in the last few weeks. I'm desperate and lost and could use some guidance. A.'

I almost jumped out of my skin when the reply came in. I had totally forgotten that his number had been reassigned.

'I don't know the reasons for your difficulties but if you need someone to talk to, you can explain your situation to me and I can try to give advice. Nick'

He seemed to be a nice guy, maybe he would take me in as his sub? No, he wouldn't. He was just a friendly guy who didn't know the scope of my problems.

'Thanks for the offer but there is nothing anybody can do to help. Alicia.'

'Tell me. New perspectives from third parties and unemotional advice often help in seemingly hopeless situations.'

I had almost finished typing my reply before I realised that I followed the command of a total stranger. 'Tell me.' Was he aware of how difficult it was for me to not carry out an order? But I would resist. And I resisted. For almost a full hour. Then I pressed on send.

'Can you pay my rent? Can you fill my fridge? Can you protect me from my crazy ex?'

Another minute later, he replied.

'If you want, I can place an order for some takeaway and have it delivered to your place. Or any place where you pick it up. Send me a food order, the name of the takeaway and a delivery/pickup address.'

I felt an inner peace sweep over my deepest core. He took care of me. He told me what to do. A little bit at least. Could he be the one? Who was he? Was he big and strong and dominant? Would he protect me in return for my obedience? Why did he do this?

'Why?'

'I had to run from my ex-wife all across the country.'

He was divorced. Maybe he was lonely. Maybe he would be happy to have a servile woman at his disposal.

'You are very kind. Please give me a minute.'

I had to resist the urge to write 'Master' at the end of the text.

It took me a few minutes to find the leaflet from the Asian takeaway on our ground-floor. It would be a risk to go down there but it was a risk I had to take. It might win me a few weeks from Tyra if I put some food in the fridge.

I sent him a list of dishes, just a few and only small portions. I couldn't exploit his generosity. Not if I wanted him to continue to take care of me.

A couple minutes later, he replied again with a number. I would have to give this code when I picked up the order.

I waited for a quarter of an hour and then went downstairs to pick up the order. I had dressed in Tyra's long coat and covered my hair with a beanie. Hopefully, nobody would recognise me.

In the restaurant, I was given a huge bag with items in it. Much more than I had ordered but as I didn't want to draw any attention to me, I took it and ran back upstairs. I slammed the door closed and leaned against it, catching my breath. After a minute or so, I moved over to the kitchen and checked the content of my bag.

So much food! He had ordered large portions and dishes I hadn't even asked for.

Again, a quiet peacefulness settled over my being. He was it. I needed to meet him. I needed to convince him that I was his. I would do whatever it took to make him take me in.

I would start by showing him how modest and humble I was, how little I needed to be happy.

'I cannot possibly accept that.' I so desperately wanted to add 'Master' but I was not sure he would understand.

'Yes, you can. Get back on your feet and when somebody else needs a little bit of help you can forward the favour.'

A very vague command, but a command nonetheless.

'I'm in your debt.' Master.

And I would pay it back. With interest.

'No, you are not. This is a gift.'

'Thank you very much! Where do you live? Anywhere close?'

'Coincidentally, yes. Same city, but the northern district.'

Ohmygod! He lived only a few blocks away?! I could almost touch him already?! Offer myself to him?

'When I'm back on my feet I'd like to meet to thank you for helping!'

And offer my body and soul to you.

'Sure. Why not. But now enjoy your dinner!'

'I will. Thank you! You're the best!' Master.

'Good luck!'

I would prove to him that I was worthy of his protection and care. I would not waver and I would not fail. I could not fail.

But it took me longer than I expected. I found a temporary job as a kitchen aid with the takeaway restaurant on our ground-floor. I couldn't risk going further from the apartment because of Justin. I was playing a very risky game as it was.

Two months later, I thought that I had achieved what my new Master had requested. I had paid rent to Myra regularly, I had paid for my share of the food and utilities and I had helped a few homeless people applying for jobs, had cut the hair of two of them so they would make a better first impression and I helped some others getting their unemployment benefits or food stamps.

It was a Friday evening, I had just gotten off work and showered when I worked up the courage to call my new Master and try to meet with him. It didn't take us long to arrange a meetup. He had mentioned that women often expressed their gratitude to him. Did he already have a sub? Or several? It didn't matter. I would find my place and I had lived with a lesbian for several months now.

I also got my first description of him! He was taller but less heavy than Justin. I loved him already. Blue jeans and a button-down shirt. Stylish. If he wore the jeans as low as Justin?

Ohmygodwhatshouldiwear? It took me forever to decide on an outfit that would be suitable for this first meeting. Short pants, not too short as I didn't want to appear slutty, that would show off my ass and a white blouse that would emphasise my dark-chocolate-coloured skin. Was he dark black or light brown? Would he like my skin colour?

Despite not putting on a lot of makeup as I wanted to come across as genuine, it had taken me far too long to get ready. I was a bad sub. I made my Master wait. I should have been better prepared to meet my new Master. In my haste, I forgot to be careful and watch out for Justin. I was just waving for a cab to stop when he showed up.

"Here you are, Cunt. Knew I'd seen you a few days ago," he shouted in his heavy slang.

"Justin. No. Leave me alone. I'm not yours anymore."

He grabbed me by my hair, "You shut your dirty fuck-mouth, Cunt. Move your bony ass back to my place."

He smelled bad, a mixture of beer, sweat and dirt. He was stinking drunk.

"I can't. I found a new Master. A better Master."

I wasn't prepared for the fist that hit me on the mouth and let the blood flow. I flew backwards and if he hadn't held me by my hair I would have hit the pavement. He still lost his grip on my hair but before I had time to feel the pain from his blow or get away from him, he grabbed me by the neck of my blouse. I was hit by another striking my eye which immediately started to water and swell.

I staggered and the blouse tore open. The sudden change of weight in his hand caused him to lose his balance and he let go of me to catch himself but he still landed on his ass. I grabbed the purse I had dropped and ran, a feat not made easier by the heels I wore. But I managed to get a few dozen yards away and flagged a cab. I jumped in as soon as it stopped and just about managed to slam the door shut before Justin appeared next to the door.

"Go," I yelled at the poor driver in panic and he just sped off. It took me a minute to regain some of my composure and stop most of the shaking.

"Can you pay?" the driver asked, concerned about his revenue, but still handing me a tissue to help stop the bleeding.

"Yes, you will be paid. Please, take me to O'Reilly's on Second Street."

Why? What have I done to deserve such a fate? He would never accept me in this state but I had promised him to come and I just couldn't back out. I'd never get a second chance.

"Are you sure that you gonna pay me?"

"Yes, yes. How much further?"

"Just past that traffic light up there."

I pulled out my cell phone and selected the quick dial and spoke to him. A few seconds later I saw a man leave the pub whose neon sign identified it as O'Reilly's. He was white?! It had never occurred to me that he could be white. To me, it didn't matter. So far he had taken good care of me but what would he think about a black sub? Would that be acceptable to him? Why was fate punishing me so hard? What had I done to get such bad karma?

The cab accelerated as soon as the light turned green and pulled up next to who I had been so hopeful would become my new Master. It stopped and, after a moment's hesitation, I opened the door to climb out and present my shame.

His jacket? On me? What was he doing? He didn't reject me?! He wasn't disgusted?! He focused his attention on me and tenderly took my chin in his hands to look at my shame.

"You need a doctor take a look at this."

Neither could I afford that nor could I expect him to pay for a doctor, I hadn't done anything for him to deserve such a treatment, but he brushed my opposition aside and helped me back into the cab. No, he had had to help me. I had failed. I had only seen him for one minute and had already failed him three times. My bloody face, his jacket on me, and now this. I failed so badly at what was supposed to be the turn-around point of my life.

He took me to a hospital. Not the normal hospital people in my district went to but the fancy, expensive one of the northern district. They tried to blame him for my injuries and it took some time to explain to the staff that he was saving, not beating me.

While I was being considerately questioned some more after I was taken to a treatment room I finally understood. He would be gone by the time I came out. The doctor asked some questions I didn't fully understand. About the insurance. Then he left. He came back a few minutes later and treated my swollen lip and my black eye. He was very delicate and careful. Much more so than the doctors at my regular hospital. He gave me a prescription for a painkiller and sent me back out to the reception.

How would I go home? What would I do, now that Justin had found me and knew where I lived?

I exchanged the prescription against a painkiller and listened to the girl behind the counter explain when and how to take them. When I asked how much they cost, she stated that Mr West had already paid for them and pointed over my shoulder.

I turned around to look where she was pointing and there he stood. He was still here! He hadn't abandoned me! I was so surprised and relieved I forgot about my place and rushed over to him and sunk into his arms, crying.

I would repay his kindness and patience by becoming the best sub he had ever had.

He wanted to bring me home to my place. I couldn't go home. Justin would find me again.

He offered me his spare bedroom! Bedroom? Why would he do that? Didn't he know where I belonged? Maybe he wasn't the experienced Master I had imagined him to be. Why else would he offer me my own bedroom?

I remained modest but again he brushed my reluctance to accept his generosity easily aside. While we waited for the cab and on the way to his apartment he asked about my life as if he really cared about me. I answered every question as honestly as I could, no matter how embarrassing it was.

He told me about his past life. He wasn't a Master. He had been married and divorced and had been troubled by his ex-wife. How dare she make his life hard? If I ever met her, I would scrape her eyes out of her dumb skull.

He called the elevator and gestured for me to enter the cabin. We rode up to the eighth floor where he took the lead and led me to an apartment door which he unlocked and opened.

"Mi casa es su casa."

I hesitated for a fraction of a second. This was it. Once I entered this apartment, I would have one chance. One chance only. I had to convince him. I needed to convince him. I didn't know what to do if I failed.

Nick

"Straight ahead into the living room," I motioned for her to walk further in.

She did as I had proposed while I slipped out of my shoes before following her. She walked into the spacious living room, past the dinner table and stopped at the couch. She dropped her head, slipped the jacket off her shoulders and started to remove her torn shirt. What was she doing? Did she think I expected her to sleep with me just because I helped her when she was in need? I rushed up to her and took her hands in order to stop her from undressing.

"Alicia. Stop."

"What? Oh, I see. You want to..."

"No, well, yes, but still, no. I did not bring you here to exploit you. I brought you here to offer you a roof over your head and an opportunity to rest."

"You don't want to fuck me?"

"You're a beautiful woman and every man would be honoured to be invited to your bed but not tonight, not after everything you've gone through in the last hours. Not if you're only doing it as some sort of repayment. Please, sit. I'll be right back," I pointed to the couch and walked over to the kitchen to pour a glass of water from the tap. I brought it to her and went to my bedroom where I opened the cupboard and took out a few items of clothing; a t-shirt, tracksuit pants, a tracksuit top, boxers and a pair of warm socks. I continued to the bathroom, placed the clothes on the rim of the tub and hung a towel on the rack next to the shower. Then I went to join Alicia in the living room again.

"I've prepared some clothes and a towel. Why don't you go and take a shower while I prepare a bite to eat? I don't have much around but I'll manage to rustle up something. Is there anything you don't eat? Any allergies?"

"Why? Why are you so nice to me but then reject me? Is it because I'm black? Or am I not pretty enough?"