tagNonConsent/ReluctanceWho is the Real Alex? Ch. 04

Who is the Real Alex? Ch. 04


I lean over the railing of the bridge looking out at the crowds of people in this busy city. People are walking in all directions. Some this way. Some that way. Ducking, bobbing and weaving. All have the same goal in mind. To get to where they are going as fast as they can with as little interaction as humanly possible. It doesn't matter where you go in the world. You could be in Paris or Rome. London or Berlin. If you are in a city you are in a city.

Back at the seaside town I just couldn't shake the feeling I was being watched. I told myself over and over that I was fine. That there was no way he was near. But that feeling... Ugh! I just couldn't shake it.

So now I am here, looking down at a sea of people. A crowd so big that getting lost amongst them should be no trouble at all. So that is what I am going to do.

I don't have much money left despite the fact I have tried my best to save. I have been careful to not spend on things I do not need. I have come to realize however that the essentials when on the run are ridiculously expensive. More so if you're paranoid.

There are two things I need. A place to stay and a job. Oh and maybe a miracle. But I'm not counting on that. I have enough money for a few more nights hotel hopping but then I'm flat broke. A job is definitely the more pressing of the two right now.

I recall the time I spent studying art. You might think it's just a group of adolescents faffing about painting apples onto canvas. But it wasn't. I worked hard and felt so proud of my work. When I passed the course I was thrilled. My good grades combined with my course qualification got me into a prestigious school that I never dreamed I would even be in a position to apply to.

I branched off into photography. Not the kind where you tell people where to stand and when to smile. My passion involved capturing moments. Special moments that are so often missed.

I recall all of this now, standing on a bridge in the middle of a bustling city because a thought occurs. One that's painfully true. All of the late nights, all of the revising, all of the stressing to get things right is of no fucking use to me. Not one little bit. I have no experience, no bank account I can access, no fixed abode ... nothing. How am I going to get a job?

I walk off the bridge and down onto the pavements that are lined with shops, bars and restaurants. I no longer have the feeling I am being watched and it feels so good. So safe. I may be in the worst possible position but I am not being watched, not being followed and being able to breathe easy feels amazing.

I allow myself to be swallowed up by the crowds and walk around aimlessly. I don't know my way around so I try to memorize certain shops in the hopes that if I stray to far I have a chance of finding my way back. Everywhere is so busy. I have to step out onto the road as the pavement I am walking down is full of people spilling out of a bar, drinks in hand, smoking cigarettes and chatting animatedly. That's when I spot the piece of paper in the window. I almost miss it because of the amount of people moving around partially obstructing the view.

'Staff wanted urgently!!' Scrawled in thick black marker pen and stuck to the window with blu tac lopsidedly.

I feel nervous. I have no experience. I have never pulled a pint in my life. Oh but I need this! As I make my way through the crowd who are blocking the entrance I think of all of the questions I will be asked. All of the answers I can't give. All of the reasons I will not get this job. I decide I need more time to think up a story. Something that makes sense. I decide this yet I keep on walking. Maybe because I know I won't be able to think up a good enough reason for having none of the things normal people have. Bloody hell! What if they ask for references?

The bar is dark inside. It's a mixture of people drinking alcohol and coffees. Staff are weaving through the crowded space with trays of food, shouting loudly with the orders trying to match the food to the customer. All of the seats are occupied and many people are forced to stand. The music playing from the speakers competes with the hubbub of the crowds.

I push through as far as I can but I stand no chance of getting to the bar. It's just too crowded. A waitress is walking past heading back to the bar. She is about my height, same hair color but she looks stressed. Her forehead is covered in sweat and her black apron filthy.

"Excuse me," I say but she doesn't hear me. I walk closer trying to catch her attention. I raise a hand up slightly and try again.

"Excuse me," I say louder. It does the trick. She closes the gap between us.

"You ok luv?" She says, her eyes scanning the bar. She is clearly in a rush to get back to serving.

"Errr yeah, I noticed the err sign, the one in the window." I sound like a moron. Great start Mia. Fucking wonderful.

"What?" She sounds impatient now.

"The job. I need a job." I say louder pointing in the direction of the sign in the window.

"Oh right, yeah I get ya, follow me."

She walks on and I follow. "Come on you lot, out of the way!" She shouts to the crowd in front. She lifts up a piece of the bar and holds it open for me to walk through. I do so suddenly feeling very self conscious. "This way." she says after dropping the bar back down. We walk through a door, down a short corridor and stop outside of another door. My hands are sweating, clasped tightly to the handles of my holdall.

She doesn't knock, she just opens the door.

"Linda, some girl here about a job." And with that she returns back to the bar.

I just stand feeling like a lemon not really sure what to do. After an awkward few seconds I lean my head in the room.

"Hi." I say not recognizing the sound of my own voice although this new anxious voice is getting to be more familiar.

A woman 'Linda' is sat behind a small brown desk. Papers everywhere, hands flapping around.

"Hi, come in. Close the door." She says very quickly. She doesn't offer me a seat so I stay standing. She is thin, mid forties I guess. Her brown curly hair is pulled into a tight low ponytail. Her long thin arms frantically opening and closing drawers like she is looking for something she cannot find.

"You have any experience?" She asks not looking up at me rummaging in another drawer.

"No," I say "But I'm a quick learner and I really need a job." I add.

She stops now, leaning back in her chair looking up at me. Her hand rubs her forehead like she doesn't know what to do with me. I know I look awkward, just standing here, holdall in hands. I feel a light sweat break out over my body. God this is awkward.

"Ok, I'm just gonna give it to you straight." She leans forward, her elbows resting onto the desk. "My wife left me, fucked off with the slag down the road."

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry." I interject a little unsure of how to handle the massive amount of personal information revealed by this virtual stranger.

"Oh, don't be. Fuck her. And fuck the slag too. She is welcome to the useless bitch. Anyway I'm left running this shithole on my own. I've had one girl leave coz she's up the duff. Just my fucking luck I'm telling you. One lad has gone back to uni and apparently working and studying don't mix! Who knew? The chef was shagging two of the waitresses at the same time so now they are both refusing to work if he is working! But I can hardly sack the chef can I?" Linda's eyes are wide as she relays all of this information to me. She is looking at me as if to say 'Yeah, this is my life.'

I just nod along, she is clearly on a roll.

"So basically, I have no fucking staff, I'm losing money and my wife who convinced me to buy this hellhole is tongue deep in some other slags pussy. So here is what I'm gonna do, I'm gonna take a chance. Although with the amount of truly shit decisions I've made recently maybe I shouldn't." Linda looks off somewhere distant.

"Anyway, you're on tables. That means you collect the glasses and plates, take em to the kitchen and load the dishwasher. When the wash is complete you take em out and restock the glasses and plates etc. You can't fuck that up. Oh but for the love of all things holy, don't fuck the chef!"

I realize I'm just nodding along, mouth agape. "Yes absolutely, collect glasses, load the dishwasher, and restock."

"That's it. The pays shit. Cash in hand, a little below minimum wage but the tips are good. Sound ok?"


"Great stuff, Can you start now?"

"Yes." I reply. I've got a fucking job! I can't believe it.

"I'm not sure why you're grinning, did I mention the pay is shit?" Linda says with a laugh, but a friendly laugh.

"Yes you did." I smile.

"How many days can you do this week?"

"All of them." I say

"Ahhhhh that's music to my fucking ears. Go on then, you can leave your bag in here. Grab an apron from the kitchen."

Time flies by and you know what? I really enjoy myself. I was nervous as hell to start but the place is so busy I have no time to think. I run around like a headless chicken grabbing glasses in one hand, plates in the other. The staff are friendly and give me tips and tricks as I go. I pull my first pint and it's awful but no one takes the piss. "We all have to start somewhere." They say.

When the end of the night comes my feet hurt like nothing I've felt before. That isn't the end though. We all start the clean and the smell of sweat is thick in the air. Tables are washed down, the carpet hoovered, bottles restocked but everyone mucks in and we all sit down at the end with a bottle of beer. Linda pays everyone and the tips are split. I don't expect them to include me with it being my first day and all but I get an even split. I've made £75 and I know it isn't a huge amount but I don't half feel proud of myself.

I step outside into the night. The fresh cold air slaps my face and it feels wonderful. The bar is so stuffy and finally I can breathe fresh air. Or as fresh as you can get in a city. I am ready to fall in bed and sleep like a zombie.

SHIT! I didn't book a bloody hotel room. I need to find a hotel and quickly. It's dark and I'm exhausted. How bloody stupid am I? I walk down the pavement and marvel at how quiet it is compared to when I first walked past. It's like a different world. I walk back the way I came recalling a hotel I had seen near the bridge. It looked cheap and cheerful which is all I can afford right now. Beggars can't be choosers and all that.

I get lost. Everything looks so different at night. I turn down a narrow street but the further I walk the more I don't recognize. I hear some men shouting loudly at each other in the distance. A glass smashing? Definite commotion. I rush down an alleyway, my heart thumping loud in my ears. As I turn I see a high brick wall. Great, a dead end. Back the way I came.

I feel something wrap around my body, pinning my arms to my side, my bag falls from my grip. I don't know what is happening. Someone has a hold of me! I start thrashing my body, legs kicking wildly. I hear a high shrill scream. It's me. I'm screaming. Something is pressed over my mouth. I thrash, flailing wildly. One of my arms is free. I reach up to pull the hand off my mouth. A sweet smell fills my nostrils, I feel so light headed. My hand falls away from the hand pressed at my mouth. My body goes limp betraying me. My eyelids close heavily. I try to open them. I try. I really try.

I feel like I've been hit by a bus. A very large bus. Probably a double decker! Every part of me feels heavy. Unnaturally so. I try to open my eyes but my eye balls just roll from beneath my closed lids.

I must've drank to much. Yep, waaay to much. Did I drink though? I don't recall. Ugh, what happened last night?

I search my mind but it's so hazy. I feel so thirsty. My tongue slowly moves around my mouth with a struggle. Oh I know this feeling, I am hungover. But this has to be the worst hangover I have ever had.

I really don't remember though. That's odd. I can't have drunk that much can I? Think Mia! Think, think, think...

Hah! I got a job. Butterflies fill my stomach. I am good at it too. I remember. I remember loading the dishwasher more times in that one day than I have ever in my entire life. Relief washes through me as my memories come back. I remember feeling my shoes rub my heels. I remember ... OH SHIT! What if I'm late. Oh I bet I fucking am. Get up, get up. My limbs respond painfully slowly. COME ON, MOVE! I really don't want to piss off Linda. I need this job so badly.

I fall out of the bed, dropping to my knees. OW! My eyes open letting in the light. I get up into a standing position the way a very elderly person stands. Slowly, stiffly and unsure. I look around the room.

Oh no, I'm dreaming, no I'm having a nightmare. I have to be. Please let me be having a nightmare. "Please, please please." I can hear the desperation in my voice as I speak out loud. I look at the large bed I was laying on only moments ago. I look at the large windows. The wardrobe, the desk, the door that leads to the en suite. I can feel the walls closing in around me. This is a bedroom I know. One of the many bedrooms here. In the house I once loved. The house I now hate. I'm in a guest bedroom in Alex's house.

I can't breathe. The air is caught in my throat. Not moving up or down. Just stuck thick in limbo. I turn on the spot looking round. I see a silver tray on the desk. A large plate with a plate cover. A beaker and a plastic bottle of water. I look at the thin vase with a single pink flower on the tray. Is he serious? I see two cameras high up in opposite corners or the room, red lights flashing. He is watching me.

I feel my stomach turn. I run to the door leading into the en suite. I crash to my knees at the toilet bowl and retch. Nothing comes out but I can't stop retching. My knees feel cold resting on the hard beige tiles beneath. I am wearing a large white t-shirt and nothing else. It's his I realize. I pull myself up shakily to my feet and walk back into the bedroom.

I try the handle of the door that leads out onto the landing. Locked. I'm not surprised but my heart still sinks.

I know I have lost all sense of time. I can hear my breathing fast and loud but I don't recognize it as my own. The ceiling is definitely getting lower and the walls are definitely getting closer. The air is too thick. What if I am having a heart attack? Something is wrong. I seriously can't breathe.

I am going to die!

I sit and place my head between my knees. I don't know why. I repeat the alphabet over and over in my head. Again I don't know why. I think I'm losing my shit. In fact I'm convinced of it. But I am breathing. Not quite as fast as before. The tightness in my chest loosens its grip.

I'm not dying.

I walk over to the desk and do my best to not look up at the cameras. I lift the plate cover and the plate beneath is empty, with the exception of a small single piece of paper folded in half.

I inwardly curse the visible tremble of my hand as I reach for the piece of paper. I unfold the paper and read the message. Without a doubt it is Alex's handwriting.

'Only good girls get to eat.'

I place the piece of paper back and recover the plate. Is he going to starve me? What do I have to do to get food? My eyes fall upon a black leather folder next to the tray. Picking it up I open it slowly as I walk to the bed and sit down.

The rules.

Rule 1. The submissive is to refer to the dominant as 'Master' or 'Sir' unless otherwise stated by the dominant.

Rule 2. The submissive is to only speak when spoken to and or encouraged by the dominant.

Rule 3. The submissive is to ensure she is showered, groomed and presentable to meet with the dominants approval.

Rule 4. The submissive will recognise that her body and mind are no longer her own. Additionally the submissive will recognise that her body and mind have the sole purpose of providing pleasure for the dominant. The submissive will do as asked at all times and will rely solely upon the dominants instruction.

Rule 5. The submissive will not engage is masturbation or any act that results in sexual self gratification without instruction from the dominant.

Rule 6. The submissive will learn how to please the dominant and will always endeavour to make the dominant proud.

Rule 7. The submissive will thank the dominant for all punishments given understanding that punishments are deserved and necessary.

Rule 8. The submissive will not attempt to set limits or restrictions. (Refer to Rule 4.)

Rule 9. The submissive will accept that these rules will apply for as long as the dominant sees fit and can only be adjusted, changed or disregarded by the dominant.

Rule 10. The submissive will make no attempt to leave. Any attempt to leave will be met with the severest of punishment.

I read and reread the rules. He is out of his fucking mind. He must be. A sense of relief does wash over me. At least he doesn't intend to kill me. Unless that is what rule 10 means? But what does he expect? To make me his slave? Is that the only way I will be safe? We had a kinky relationship. I know that. But nothing like this. I also know enough about bdsm relationships to know that these rules do not represent that. There is nothing about my limits, trust, communication, anything! This is a list on how I am to serve him. How I am to be his slave.

I never knew him. NEVER EVER! I think of the night the charade that was my life fell apart. How he beat that man. Threatened to rape his daughter. Threatened to sexually assault his wife. Revealed that I am nothing but a whore to him. He chased me. Followed me, he must have. I think of how he drugged me and kidnapped me. Brought me here, locked me away. What is this man capable of? Is their anything he won't do? I am not safe. He expects me to follow these rules. To exist for his pleasure.

I hear the door unlock. I look up at the handle turning in slow motion. Shit, the rules, am I supposed to kneel, stand? I don't know!

Alex walks in. My god he is handsome. The fear I feel does nothing to take away from his beauty. He closes the door behind himself. I look at him long and hard. His black jeans and slim fit black t-shirt drawing attention to his muscular arms and chest. His black tousled hair, icy blue eyes and strong jawline. He pulls the chair from under the desk to in front of the door and sits on it. His legs comfortably spread, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his thighs.

I have been thinking of him in such monstrous terms it's actually a shock to see him like this. Looking so normal. So human. Almost a let down from the monster he has become in my mind.

"Hello baby girl." He says, his eyes staring into mine.

God, the softness of his voice. The familiarity. I almost feel safe. Like this man, the Alex before me is here to protect me from the other Alex. The bad Alex.

"You saw and heard things Mia that you never should have. That was my fault." He says placing a hand on his chest.

"You threatened that man Alex, you said awful things." My voice betrays my fear.

Alex breathes deeply. "If you had stuck around Mia, hadn't ran away like a petulant child, I would have had a chance to explain."

I recoil. I stare into his face and I can tell that he is very angry with me.

"But no, you just left like the selfish little girl you are."

"Alex, please let me go. Please, just let me leave." I beg.

"You know Mia, I didn't write out the list of rules as a mere handwriting exercise. I had hoped you would read them and retain the information ..."

"FUCK THE RULES ALEX!" I interrupt loudly. Shit! I don't know where that came from. Why did I say that? Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Alex sweeps forward leaping off the chair grabbing both my wrists in one hand, pulling me off the bed and onto my feet. I don't have time to react as he swings me around and bends me over the edge of the bed. My arms are held out in front of me pinned to the bed under the force of his strong hand.

Report Story

byValtiel© 6 comments/ 9851 views/ 12 favorites

Share the love

Report a Bug

2 Pages:12

Forgot your password?

Please wait

Change picture

Your current user avatar, all sizes:

Default size User Picture  Medium size User Picture  Small size User Picture  Tiny size User Picture

You have a new user avatar waiting for moderation.

Select new user avatar: