Emma's Master Ch. 02


I leaned my forehead against the cool glass and tried to remember the shape of my mother's eyes. It was hard to grasp, and it often slid out from me but I thought that if I could only hold her there, in the shape of her eyes where I felt there was such a singular structure, that I could somehow pin her to my shifting memory forever.

I stiffened then relaxed as I felt him reach out and brush my hair back behind my ear before he lowered his hand to my thigh and held it there.

"Seems like a nice place to grow up."

"It was alright."

He kept his hand pressed against my thigh until we stopped for coffee at a drive-thru in an unfamiliar place.


All at once I could see the city skyline looming in the distance as we came over some hill or other and the horizon opened up to us. It felt like the first great harbinger of things to come and I remembered when I had run from here all those years ago and I had looked back in the rear view mirror at the receding sight and promised myself I would never see it again.

And now here I was hurtling back toward it at ninety miles an hour. I shrunk down into my seat and laid my head against the headrest dejectedly. He glanced at me briefly but didn't say anything.

As the car picked it's way across the myriad Boston neighborhoods and descended unceasingly into the depths of my own personal inferno I became increasingly resigned to my fate. This was real. I was going back and and I was utterly powerless to stop it.

I sat up more alert as we slid past the street that marked the boundary to Grady Park. It seemed there should have been signs, flashing lights, rings of fire to mark the distinction of this next block from the one before it. This was it. This was the point of no return. People crossed that line in the sand and they never came back. The neighborhood had distanced itself so fully from the rest of the city that admittance past it's perimeter might as well have required a passport.

Six years ago there had been a fire at one of the more run-down houses and the firemen had refused to enter the area. A whole block burned down. It was a huge scandal. The city offered to pay for the cost to rebuild but Grady Park refused. I think it was almost a declaration of independence. They required no city services, no government aid. There's was a sovereign piece of land in this city rife with revolution.

There were no customs officers but that didn't mean there weren't sentries of a different kind posted at the borders and I was sure our return was already being relayed back to any interested parties.

He seemed to sit up straighter as well in acknowledgement of our changed circumstances as we pulled up to a modest single story home with a well-kept yard.

He put the car in park and looked at me, "welcome home, Emma."

The significance of his words bit into me with a vibrant poignancy. Home. Home. And I thought again, where is my home? Not here! Not here! Not this crisp, white, New England shelter, set back from the street under a white oak canopy.

I was still staring straight ahead in denial when I heard my door click open next to me and blinked up at him as he waited beside it. His expression was impenetrable as I hesitantly climbed out and into the soft, summer evening.

"Jack!" I whipped around and saw a middle aged man sitting on his stoop across the street. I remembered him but I could not recall his name. A young woman was coming out of the house and handing him a beer. She had a collar like mine and I thought her name might be Katy or something but I couldn't be sure.

"Good to see you back, man!"

Jack nodded at him, "Tilson."

"I see you've got the little runaway bitch back where she belongs," he nodded at me and I flinched.

Jack didn't answer but nodded toward the house. He started to walk and I followed him, craving distance from that repulsive man and his unfortunate chattel.

"He won't hurt you," he said. "He knows you're mine."

I stiffened. "I'm not afraid of that old lecher," I said a little too forcefully for it to ring completely true.

"Good then let's go inside. Marshall's been anxious to see you."

Marshall. I kept forgetting about Marshall. He was the one person in all this that I could honestly say I wouldn't mind seeing again. It was the only thought that made the slow climb up those ominous steps and through that heavy front door in any way bearable.

Marshall swept me into his arms almost before the door opened, "Emma! Boy are you a sight for a sore eyes."

"Marshall," I said, smiling a little, slightly uncomfortable with his blatant affection.

Marshall was Jack's closest friend and confidante. I had never quite understood their relationship. Where Jack was hard and cold and guarded, Marshall was careless and light and radiant. His warm brown eyes and quick smile betrayed every emotion with an uninhibited recklessness that I almost admired for it's audacity.

"Anything to eat?" Jack said gruffly as he walked past us into the kitchen.

"Should be some sandwiches in the fridge." Marshall turned his attention away from me and set me back down.

"Oh and hello to you too, Jack."

Jack was already walking back in from the kitchen, snacking on half a sandwich. He rolled his eyes and gave me a pointed look, "It's been a long drive."

He tore off a bit of his sandwich and held up to me almost offhandedly.

I chanced a look at Marshall for a second but he wasn't even looking at me as he had turned his attention back toward Jack. I was starving and I didn't want to test him again so soon so I opened my mouth and accepted the small offering he placed there. I'd done it enough in the past couple days and I was too tired really to offer any kind of futile resistance. He smiled and tore off another piece as he asked Marshall about something or other to do with something I only half understood.

I looked around. It was as if I had never left. Everything was almost exactly the same.

"Emma," he was looking at me again, "why don't you go to your room and get ready for bed. I believe some of your clothes are still in the bureau."

I nodded. It had been an exhausting two days.

I slowly made my way to the back hallway and crept along it to the room I had occupied five years ago. Again, it was unchanged. Of course, he had never liked change very much. I thought, ruefully, that might have had some small part to do with his need to return me here. I had affected change in his ordered life and it had probably infuriated him. I opened a dresser drawer and looked down at a neat stack of my old t-shirts.

It occurred to me for the first time that he had not taken another after me. It was encouraged even expected in the upper echelons of Grady Park's perverse social structure. I did not flatter myself that it had anything to do with me. He probably just couldn't stand the thought of another permanent disruption in this house.

I undressed and pulled an extra large band t-shirt over my head. The material was soft and well-worn and as it brushed against the tops of my knees I felt sleep pulling at the edges of my overtaxed mind.

I turned around to get into bed and I caught him in the open doorway. "Marshall's glad to have you back."

I was tired and annoyed so I said, "I can't imagine why. I'm sure you've been delightful company."

His mouth quirked up slightly as he entered the room and took me in. I hadn't looked in the mirror yet but I was sure I must be a mess after the long drive and the constant psychological torture I'd been subjecting myself to.

"I'm tired Jack," I said.

He walked further into the room. "Do you know how many times I've wanted to fuck you today?"

"Jack." I backed toward the wall.

He stalked closer and I felt the limit of my retreat as I pressed up against the hard, implacable wall behind me and caught the hungry glint in his eye as his smile widened like he had cornered prey.

"Jack, Please." I held up my hands and he pounced, dragging my wrists high above my head and trapping them there with one hand. He lent in for a demanding kiss and I tried to dart away from him but he grabbed my chin roughly with his other hand and bit my lip lightly before plunging his tongue past them and burning his mouth into mine.

He drove a hand up under my t-shirt and pulled on my wrists until I was unwillingly arching against him and straining up on my toes. He pinched a hardening nipple and then without warning or preparation he drew my panties to the side, took out his cock and plunged himself fully inside me.

My eyes widened and I let out at a little scream as I struggled to accommodate him. Of course, per his usual affect on me, I was not entirely unprepared. Still, it was not quite to the degree that his girth demanded.

He quickly let go of my hands and reached under me to draw my thighs around his waist so I was practically sitting on his cock before he reached back for my wrists and pinned them above me again. He began to fuck me against the wall and I closed my eyes as the slight pain of his entrance melted into something much more enjoyable.

"No. Open your eyes."

"Jack," I pleaded. I didn't want to be a spectator in this.

He thrust into me again and moved a hand up to pinch my nipple painfully, "that was an order Emma. What do you say to an order?"

My eyes flew open and I whispered, "yes sir."

"Good girl." He looked at me fiercely while he pressed my wrists harder against the wall. I worried briefly that his eyes might consume me. That I might accidentally wander into their labyrinthine depths and lose myself in the tangled passageways forever.

He held a finger to my mouth, "open."

I groaned involuntarily as he pressed me up against the wall again and he used the opportunity to slide his finger past my lips, watching me closely as I closed my mouth around it. He started to move it in and out in time with the infuriatingly shallow thrusts of his hips.

"God you are so fucking sexy." he growled.

When he was satisfied it was wet enough he pulled it out and moved his hand down under my ass, spreading the cheeks apart. I startled out of my pleasure coma as he began to circle his wet finger around the small hole there.

"Oh no." I tensed. "Please don't."

He kissed the side of my neck as he began to press it insistently against me, past the feeble ring of muscle. "Relax baby," he murmured, "It's just my finger. Just relax and it won't hurt at all."

I tried to relax but it had been so long since anyone had even thought about touching me there that I'd almost forgotten about it. I whimpered at the slight stinging sensation as he his finger slipped all the way inside and his hips shot back as he plunged into me powerfully.

I felt the odd sensation of his finger rubbing against his cock as he fucked me against it. I was slowly giving into the helpless pleasure when I caught myself making odd little mewling sounds and shut my eyes in frustration. He made a feral sound and bit down against the side of my neck.

"No, Emma, what did I say. I want to see your eyes."

I reluctantly opened my eyes and caught the possessive gleam in his as he said,

"Are you going to come around my cock with my finger in your ass?"

He ground his pelvis against my clit and thrust his finger further inside me. I almost screamed in agonizing ecstasy. "Huh baby? Are you?"

He held my gaze and groaned as I stared up at him, my tongue darting over my lips as I swallowed unconsciously.

"Well?" He pushed my sweat-slick hair back from my forehead and smiled as he asked sweetly, "Would you like me to make you come, baby?"

I stared at him, wide-eyed with need, "yes," I managed, "please. Please let me come, sir."

"Come, baby. Come now."

I couldn't stop whispering, "please," as his hips started bucking against me in earnest. He watched me closely as I finally reached that glittering peak of exquisite perfection and shouted his name as he followed me over the ledge.

We were both breathing erratically and my chest and throat were a mottled a deep red as I continued to stare at him until he pulled away slowly and lowered my knees to the floor. I adjusted my panties with as much dignity as the situation provided and waited.

He kissed my cheek as he stepped back and gave me what could almost be called a warm look. If he was capable of those. I was still too deep to react when he said, "good night, Emma" and closed the door quietly to the light of the hallway, letting the night descend upon me.


Wait, I almost started to call him back because suddenly I realized there were no lights in this room. Oh my god there was no light in the room. The door clicked shut and I was swept into impenetrable darkness. Some great nothing closed in around me and palpated against my grasping eyes.

I was too terrified to move. It felt like my chest was constricting in on itself and I couldn't breath. Oh god, what was that? Did I just hear something? I kept trying to suck in more oxygen but every time I managed to my breath came back out in some kind of strangled cry which scared me even more. I could feel the shape of my heart against my ribs. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Fucking crime lord in the next room and I'm still afraid of the fucking dark.

I felt something touch against my thigh and I screamed bloody murder.

"Shhh." The touch became a caress, soothing me, calming me. Strong arms pulled me against a stronger chest and I clung to it desperately, digging my head into the shoulder and sobbing, trying to get away from the darkness that was still coating my arms, my face and this anonymous figure pressed up against me.

"I'm sorry" it was Jack. "I'm so sorry, baby, I forgot."

He rubbed a hand down my back and I relaxed slightly into his hold, fingers digging into his t-shirt while I tried to calm the uncontrollable shuddering of my whole body. He kept rubbing his hands down my back and making soft soothing sounds.

I could feel him pushing away the dark, casting it into the oblivion from which it had crept until finally, I could make out there the shadowy contours of a table leg, here the outline of an open closet door.

"I forgot to plug it in before I left. Here give me a second." He started to pull away and I clawed at him desperately.

He held me tighter, "OK, it's OK. I'm just going to reach over you here see?" He rose up and fiddled with a fixture in the wall.

Suddenly there was a dull light filling the room and I felt my body go slack with intense relief. I looked over at the outlet and saw that he had plugged in the old nightlight. What a difference five years had made. I'm such a god damn child.

"Better?" He said, looking concerned. I nodded and pulled away from him. In the light I remembered. In the light I could hate him again. I didn't need him to keep out the dark. I didn't need him at all. He let me pull away and kissed the top of my head. I think I was still visibly shaking.

"I wasn't sure if the dark was still an issue. Obviously I should have checked first. Try and get some sleep Okay baby?"

I nodded and he closed the locked door behind him.

I lay there for a long while, attempting to re-commit myself to every corner, curve and angle of the room so that maybe next time I could find them in the dark. If I could catch their definition without lights then maybe I wouldn't panic. Of course, even as I did this, I knew I would. I always do.

Once, a few years ago, when I was stuck in a mildew-infused shack in San Antonio with a chronic ceiling leak and a damp mattress, there had been a power outage. After the initial shock of fear I had shot around the house turning on my collection of flashlights and electric lanterns, lighting approximately a billion candles.

Afterwards, I had stood in the center of the kitchen (now lit up like the surface of the sun) and felt a lingering pall of grayness that I couldn't seem to shake. I had slid down in the middle of my own personal glowing beacon against the dark world outside, gripping my flashlight, pressing my back against the fraying cabinet doors and missing him so terribly it hurt to exist.

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