"Last call" the bartender says as I down my ninth shot of jack and sip on the remainder of what's left of my overpriced Long Island ice tea.
"You sure you don't need me to call you a cab?" the bartender asks.
Drunkenly I slur, "No I'm good. I can call a friend."
He nods in agreement and lets me finish my drink in peace. I debate on who to call, who would keep my secret, after all I'm not supposed to be here.
Master would not approve! I told him I was meeting a friend for a movie and would be home late. He asked all the basic questions who am I going with, what movie am I going to see, what time is the showing, and when I should be home, etc.?
I told him I was going to see the new Harry Potter movie with a new friend from work, that the movie started at 10:30, and we would probably stop off and get food before I got dropped off. So many lies; I don't like lying to him. Master doesn't like when I drink too much. He worries the damage that it will do on my body. However, I have been feeling terribly restless for weeks now and want to be drunk tonight.
I reach into my purse on the barstool next to me to pull out my phone. When suddenly a sharp grip is around my wrist that makes jump. I look up and it's him!
Before he can say anything, I blurt out, "Sir I can explain."
His rough voice sends shivers thru my body, "Start talking now!"
Now I know I'm in trouble. I motion him to sit but he just stands there over me piercing me with his cold eyes. I just stare at him unable to speak.
With a sharp tone he asks, "Well are you going to tell me why you lied?"
I bow my head with respect slowly starting to feel small.
I respond defensively, tears beginning to roll down my cheeks, "You have been distant and I felt ignored."
He releases my my wrist, "Grab your things, we're going."
The release of his grip on me stings more than his words. I quickly grab my things and follow him out the door of the bar. We curve around the alleyway behind the bar towards his car. I can tell by the way he is walking with each stride that he is enraged.
He shouts, "Stand by the curb and wait for me!"
This isn't good. He has something planned. I stand on the curb regretting my choices of lying to him. I should have told him how I have been feeling weeks ago, instead of internalizing it.
I can see him at his car looking for something in the trunk. I see him pull out some rope and something I can't see. He walks back over to me. I try to maintain my eyes on him and focus on him and not show any weakness.
His voice is stern, "Turn around with your arms out."
I hesitate, "NOW!" He barks.
The strictness of his order compels me into obedience and I put my arms out behind me. I prepare to take my punishment.
He ties my wrist together tightly I can feel the force of his rage, "Let's see if you feel ignored after what I have in store for you."
Despite the terrifying growl in his voice, I can still feel his care for me.
Then in one quick movement there's a burlap sack over my head; that must have been the other thing he was carrying that I couldn't quite see. I'm then being jerked off the curb by my wrist. In his forcefulness, I almost lose my balance, but I catch myself before I fall.
I can hear him laughing at me. He pushes me forward in the direction of the car. He holds me close by the throat. Master knows that's my weakness.
I want to fall into him, for him to hold me but I know that's not the case tonight; tonight, I'm getting punished.
He bends down and growls in my ear "You are never ever going to want to lie to me again my sweet."
Before I am given a chance to say anything, Master shoves me into the trunk of the car. His forcefulness always makes me weak and I can already tell how turned on I'm getting.
He slams the trunk of the car. This is new, he has never done this before. Of all the scenes that we have played together I have never been in the trunk of the car. I'm nervous yet excited for what he has planned for me.
I hear him start the ignition of the car, and pull away from the street. I know I will not be in the trunk long before we are home. It's a left at the signal and then four stop lights and then right before we reach the neighborhood.
My heart stops when he doesn't make a left. Instead he continues straight. Are we not going home, what is he doing, do I have things mixed up? I'm still drunk from the bar and I can't see. Maybe I'm just confused.
...I do know the amount of time it takes to get home. We are definitely not going home. I slowly start to panic. We have never played out a scene not at home. He really must have meant what he said earlier.
He must have drove for a good hour before the car slowed down and pulled over somewhere. I could hear the car turn off and him opening his door. The sound of his footsteps makes my heart race with anticipation and fear.
I hear the angry clashing of his keys as he opens the trunk. I try to scoot back to a location he cannot reach.
He growls, "Hiding away won't do you any good now, and you know that."
I slowly inch myself closer so he has access to my body.
"That's my girl" I hear him say it sound so sinister you can hear the victory in his voice.
He yanks me out of the trunk of the car and pulls me to my feet. I want to ask where we are but I know my questions will get ignored. He grabs me by wrist and pushes me as we start walking. I trip over everything that's in my path and he doesn't care he doesn't remove the sack that is blinding me from my vision.
It smells of damp and cold. I can smell trees. We walk what seems like forever but in reality, we are probably a few miles from the car. I'm trying to count my foot steps and the direction that he has me going.
He must hear me counting underneath my breath and stops. He spins me around a few times I almost lose my balance, and we start walking again. I give up trying to maintain the distance from the car, and where I am.
He stops and pulls the sack from my head. I blink to adjust to the clear sky of stars that are above us.
I know where we are now. It's a campsite off a nature reserve. We are deep in the woods. Where the only things that could hear me scream are the animals.
His face is strict. I don't see any way out of what he has planned. He grabs my face with his hand. I lean in to his touch and close my eyes.
Before I know it, I'm slapped in the face, "Look at you all weak, begging for my touch," he laughs.
