Rebellion 2

I stand over you. Restrained, helpless, and hooded, you don't yet realize I'm here, but you still fight. I hold a covered plate, the first food to come near you in days. I take off the cover and the scent of a delicate soup fills the room. Your lips twitch, but you refuse to beg.

I crouch down and whisper in your ear. "Are you prepared to give me your oath?" The simple question tells you who I am, where you are—and what your fate will be.

You turn your head towards my voice and try to bite me—the only means of lashing out left to you.

I laugh. "A pity. Cook outdid herself today."

A spoon waved under your nose has your mouth watering, but you persist in your silence.

I want to run my hands over your skin. I want to feel the tickle of your chest hair, the hardness of your cock, and the softness of your lips. I breathe deeply, enjoying your scent.

Patience. Taking is easy, winning is work.

I savor the meal, then sit quietly. Your muscles twitch and strain against your bonds, but I can tell it is habit. You know you cannot break free.

I am about to leave when it happens.

"Where are the others?" I am pleased that your first words since arriving are for your companions. Your voice is hoarse and rough. Still as strong as I remember, but with an edge of desperation. I reward your speech by pressing a cup of water to your lips.

You finish drinking and lean back with a sigh. "Please. Are... are they here too?"

"No. I would have claimed them also, but you are the only survivor."

You say nothing further, but tears begin to leak from under your hood. I sit with you, wiping your face. The small comfort I offer is the first human touch you have been granted since your capture.

Eventually, your tears cease. I use my handkerchief and some of the water to wipe down your body, clearing away the worst of the dried sweat and dirt. Your body slowly relaxes under my ministrations.

You will remember this. Remember I stayed with you through your grief, I soothed you with my touch and when you opened up to me and spoke, you were rewarded.

Small steps. Tomorrow, if you speak again, I will feed you with my own hands. Small steps, until the day you willingly and joyfully kneel at my feet.

Each day I visit you for a short time. The carefully wrought mechanism binding your body can be adjusted through a near infinite range of positions. My servants shift you frequently to prevent sores, as well as cleaning the messes your body makes. But they never speak, never interact, for all you can tell, you are tended by mechanical contrivances. I am the only person in your world.

Several times you return to your silence, but never for long. Locked in the dark, in endless isolation, your need for human contact is almost greater than your need for the food I bring.

By the second week, you are learning courtesy. By the third, you greet my arrival eagerly. I continue to offer small rewards. Food, touch, conversation.

In the fourth week an emergency arises, calling me away for the day. I see you before I leave, but you are sleeping.

I return late. As much as my bed calls me, I force myself to go down to your cell. You are tense, twitching. At the first sound of my footfall, your head turns towards me.

"Lady?"

You are supposed to wait to be addressed. Disappointed I turn to leave.

"Forgive me, lady, I forgot myself! Please... Please..."

I stop. "You know better, boy."

"Yes, lady."

I walk to your side. Tears streak your face below the hood. Your head hangs limp, even as your muscles continue to twitch and spasm. I put my hand under your chin and you shiver at my touch. "Is there something you wish to say?"

"Please don't leave, lady. I am sorry I spoke out of turn."

"Are you ready to give me your oath?"

I can almost feel the battle within you. Long moments pass, "No, lady."

I pull my hand away and your sigh is almost a sob. I haven't broken your honor, but you fear what your refusal will cost you. I am not so cruel—there is no point in asking more of a man than he can give. The day will come when you give me everything I want.

Surprise fills your face as I remove the cover from the food and offer you your first bite. "Thank you, lady." The gratitude in your voice is for more than the meal.

After a month of immobility and living on a single meal a day, your once strong body is much changed. Hunger has been your constant companion, along with darkness, loneliness, and despair. It's time, I decide, for a change.

I leave your cell without a word. You moan at my departure, but you do not speak. You have learned well.

I return some hours later. My servants have been efficient, as always. You are positioned so you kneel on the floor, next to a small, elegant table set for one. The lights in the cell, normally kept brightly lit, are dimmed to a warm background glow. I light the two candles on the table, adding ambiance to the sterile room.

Your nostrils flare at the familiar scent. Even for my servants, setting all this up silently was impossible. You can tell something different is happening. "Good evening, boy."

"Good evening, lady." Your voice is strained.

"You were very good this afternoon, boy." I caress your chin, emphasizing words with action. "I know you were disappointed."

"Thank you, lady... may I please ask why you left?"

"Look down, boy."

A long moment passes, but you obey. I walked out once today, you will not risk my doing so again.

With your head bent I can easily reach the straps holding your hood in place. You stiffen under my hands as the first strap comes undone. "Keep your head down and your eyes closed."

I remove the hood. After a month of darkness, to willingly remain sightless is a true test of your discipline. But you do not want me to leave, and you will want the hood to remain off for as long as possible. Your muscles strain and twitch, but your eyes stay closed.

I hold my hand in front of your face as an extra precaution. "Open your eyes slowly. When your eyes are comfortable, you may lift your head."

You gasp. Tears drip into my hand as the faint light burns your eyes. When the tears stop, I move my hand. You raise your head and gaze around the room. Your eyes are wide and you tremble in your restraints. Your breath comes fast. I crouch next to you, grabbing your chin with one hand and covering your eyes with the other. "What is wrong, boy?"

"I don't know, lady. My eyes... I see, I see colors and shapes, and movement, but it all means nothing. I don't understand!"

"Shh. Shh." I hold you and run a hand through your hair. "You are fine. Your brain needs time to remember how to see."

Soon you calm. I sit back. Your eyes are focused now, and the wildness is gone from them. "Lady." You clear your throat. "I forgot how beautiful you are."

"Flatterer."

I take myself seat at the table and fill my plate. You stare as I take a bite of meat. I offer the second bite to you. You restrain your obvious need and take it delicately from my fingers. "We will take our meals together from now on. You can expect me in the morning and evening." Meaningless, when you have no way to tell the time, but this will add some structure to your days.

You swallow the meat and say, "Thank you, lady."

"You are welcome I'm sure, but is that all you wish to say?" The month I spent drumming courtesy into you covered only the basics. Confusion fills your eyes.

"Ah-"

"Never mind." I sigh and take a sip of wine. "Polite discourse will be a lesson for another day."

You take another bite from my hands, but say nothing further. Wise, when you don't know what is proper.

"I doubt you realize how disruptive this has been to my day. Our new schedule will be easier for me to accommodate."

"Lady... why are you doing this?"

"I enjoy having company for my meals."

You shake your head, "No, why are you doing all of this."

I put my fork down, "Explain yourself."

Your hands fist at your sides. "The past... is like a phantom now. Sometimes I think it was a dream and my whole life has been darkness.

"I remember thinking I was being tortured. Expecting someone to demand information, answers, but no one ever did. Then you came. You keep me locked in this contraption, trapped in the dark. Starved me. Stripped me my humanity. Forced me to abase myself before you or be denied the little food keeping me alive.

"When you removed that damned blind and I couldn't see, you reassured me. When I was grieving, you held me. You talk with me today as if I was one of your high-society friends.

"I should hate you for what you've done to me. Instead, I would give almost anything for a few more minutes of your company. So many times I wished you would kill me. Now I live for the sound of your footsteps.

"Why are you doing this to me?" The cry seems to be ripped from the depths of yourself, and your eyes burn holes in mine. You are magnificent. For the first time, victory is nearly within my grasp.

"You know why," I say, meeting your passion with gentleness, "I am remaking you, placing chains on your heart and mind. On the day you walk out of this room, you will know you belong to me, and love me for it."

You slump against the restraints and whisper. "Why can't I hate you?"

I say nothing, giving you time.

"Kill me. If you have any compassion, any kindness in you at all, please kill me."

I get out of my seat and kneel in front of you, taking your face in my hands. "No, brave one. You are stronger than you realize."

You snarl and rage, straining against your bonds and spitting in my face. I wait you out, allowing no reaction to mar my serenity. You grow quiet. You will not meet my eyes or respond to me. I feed you the rest of your meal in silence.

When I pick up the hood, you close your eyes. The subtle defiance in your seeming-acceptance decides me. I fold the hood and place it with the discarded plate. You wanted to "see" the truth of your situation. I will not let you hide in darkness. I turn the lights out, leaving the candles to light your cell.

You fawn over me at breakfast. I wonder if you realize how transparent you are, how obvious the ploy is. About half way through our meal, I set my finger against your lips to silence you—and you kiss it. I burst out laughing. Even in my distraction, I catch a gleam of calculation in your eyes before they fill with confused devotion. I am tempted to let you continue your ruse, but honesty is critical at this phase.

"Brave one, I am impressed. A well thought out plan, if a tad overdone in the execution. But no, acting the devoted puppy will not convince me to release you before you are mine. And if you could, how long before you, yourself, became unable to tell role from reality?"

For a moment, you brave it out, but then you sigh and smile crookedly at me. "It was worth a try."

The meal passes quietly. You remember your manners, but the courtesies are only a thin veil over your despair and fear. When I finish, I move the plates aside and retrieve the hood. You set your jaw and stare into the distance as I fit the leather over your head. "This is your first warning," I whisper as I pull the straps tight. "Do not attempt to deceive me again."

You lean your head against my shoulder. "I know I can't win, lady. I'm not even sure I want to. But I have to try. I owe it to- I just have to."

"I know, brave one."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In my dreams, I am lost in the past. Sometimes the dream ends, and I wake knowing it was a dream. Other times I fall asleep in our safe house, surrounded by my friends and allies. Then I wake here, where my friends are dead, my body is wasting away, and You are the center of my world. On those days, I listen for Your footsteps and wonder which is a dream and which is reality.

I treasure my dreams, they are the one bit of myself you cannot take from me. When I dream, I am able to hold out against You, to remember my old life.

In this dream, my friends surround me. I laugh and talk and relax in a place where I belong. Some part of me knows I am only dreaming, but I throw myself into the fantasy. Here I am free and at peace.

Your footsteps sound, echoing through my dream. Trembling, I turn to the door of our safe house. You stand before me. As always Your presence lights up my world. I fall to my knees before You, unable to resist Your power. When I look up, all my friends lie dead around me.

The door to my prison opens, waking me from the dream. I blink back tears and try to show an impassive face as I wrestle with anger and grief. Even my dreams belong to You.You smile as You enter. Again, my world lights up. I lower my head so You cannot see how much I hate myself for it. My dead friends still linger behind my eyes.

"Good morning, my brave one."

"Good morning, lady."

The food You carry is welcome, but more welcome is the hand You rest on my head.

"You are tense today."

Tense? I am vibrating to pieces as my love for You fights with the memories and promises made in a life that is as dead as my friends. "Bad dreams, lady."

You sigh, and the sadness in the sound rips at my heart. "I think they haunt us all. Will you tell me your dreams?"

I almost lay the whole thing at Your feet, but somehow that would be the final betrayal of my dead. "I can't, lady."

Your smile quirks, "And if I commanded it?"

I hang my head, unable to meet Your eyes, "Please don't, lady." I don't know what I would do... and I'm afraid to find out.

Your lips brush my forehead, and I close my eyes against tears. I am undone by your touch. "No fears, brave one, you may keep your silence... for now."

"Thank you, lady."

You lay out a meal. For the first time, You set out a plate before me, and a fork and spoon. I am used to my immobile state, but now the uselessness of those tools mocks me. Your laugh echos in my ears and Your hand reaches out to cup my chin. "You have been very good these past weeks. Consider this your reward."

You release one of my manacles.

I freeze in shock, afraid to hope. Slowly, I bring my hand in front of my face. Marveling at the way my muscles stretch and move.

You clear Your throat.

Shame fills me. "Thank You, lady. I'm sorry I forgot myself, please don't think I am ungrateful, lady."

You only chuckle and bend down to kiss my forehead again.

I see again, my friends lying dead around me as I grovel before you. If I stop to think, even for a moment, I will freeze. I let the grief rule me and my hand reaches up to grab the front of Your throat. Your neck is small, and if I were at my full strength I could crush it without trying. Even now, I can hurt you badly. "Release me." What should have been a demand comes out as a plea. "Don't make me hurt You, lady."

You raise Your eyebrows. "I could say the same, boy."

That "boy," is like a slap. I look away, but my grip tightens. "Please, lady."

"No, boy." A lightning bolt slams into me and my body convulses. The last thing I see before the world goes black is the marks of my fingers on your throat.

I wake to pain. My arm is wrenched up behind my body and secured to the metal collar around my neck. My skin burns and tingles. Something has been shoved into my mouth, almost choking me. When I open my eyes, I see only blackness. I have been returned to the hood. It is the least I deserve.

"I am disappointed, boy." Your voice is cold and angry. The pain underneath the anger rips my heart. "When will you learn? This is what you are: a helpless fool trapped in the dark. Everything else I grant you, from the food you eat to the sight of my face is a privilege to be earned. I offered you a great privilege today, and this is the way you repay my generosity?"

The gag in my mouth keeps me from responding, and You ignore the tears flowing down my cheeks. I can only listen while You eat in silence and walk away.

I have learned to time my days by Your visits. I know when the time for the evening meal arrives, and You do not.

Hunger weighs on me, but not as much as Your absence. I can't tell how long I spend like this. Several times my body is repositioned, though my arm remains painfully bound at my back.

I sleep in fits and starts. Thirst and hunger gnaw at me. I wonder if You have abandoned me. Have I transgressed so far that I will be left here until I die? Soon I wish for death.

Finally, I again hear your footsteps, hear the door open, smell your scent. I sob into the gag.

You say nothing. I bow my head and force my body to relax. I find myself hoping you will not remove the hood. I would rather be dead than see my fingerprints on your throat. With that thought, I admit the truth: You have won.

The gag is removed from my mouth. My arm, screaming in agony, is moved to a more comfortable position. I bite my lip, torn. I should thank You for the gift of comfort, but I am not to speak until You do.

"Good evening, boy."

"Good evening, lady."

You say nothing further, and seconds pass like hours. Unable to bear the silence, I ask, "May I speak, lady?"

"Do you have anything to say that I wish to hear?"

"I... I hope so, lady."

"Very well, boy. Speak."

Words spill out of me. "Lady, I was wrong. I don't say that because you punished me—though I am more grateful than I can say for your mercy today. You are the only thing in my world, lady. I- I shouldn't have touched you, not without your permission. I had no right to even touch your hand, and I... please tell me I didn't hurt you, lady?"

I hear the faintest sigh of silk and you are next to me. The heat of your body warms my skin. I want to strain against my bonds, to struggle to be closer to you. I stay limp. Accepting.

Your hands unbuckle my hood. I keep my eyes down until you tell me I can look up. The room is lit up like a surgical hall. Under the bright light, the dark smudges on your neck standout like crows on a field of snow.

Tears fill my eyes. "Lady, I am sorry."

"Why, boy?"

"They were alive. In my dreams, they lived, and I remembered. Then you came, in my dreams, and they were all dead. And you woke me, but I still saw them lying dead in front of me, and..."

"And what do you dream now, boy?"

"Nothing, lady. Even the dead are gone and I'm alone in darkness."

"I am sorry you lost your dreams, brave one," I shiver at the endearment. I don't deserve your regard. "It is time for you to move forward though. This lapse I will forgive, do not give me reason to regret my generosity."

"No, lady. Thank you, lady."

"Are you ready to give me your oath, brave one?"

I freeze. "I- I want to, lady."

To my surprise you crouch down, until you look into my eyes. "Why can't you?"

I want to look away, but your hand is under my chin. I obey the unspoken command, making myself meet your gaze. "I swore another oath, lady. If I give you my oath, I am forsworn."

"And the oath of a forsworn man is meaningless."

"Yes, lady."

"Tell me this oath, boy."

"That I would never give up or abandon our cause. That only death would stop me."

"Do you still keep this oath?"

"I have to."

"Do you want to?"

I hang my head as memories I thought vanquished overwhelmed me. "Part of me does, lady. Part of me wishes my oath was dead too, and I could be free of everything."

"And what would you do if you were free?"

"I would kneel at your feet and beg you never to leave me again."

Your smile is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. You stand, and I fear you will walk away. Instead, you undo each of the restraints holding my body. I don't move, don't twitch. I hardly dare to breathe. When I am completely free, you open the door, then cross to the opposite side of the room.

I wait, but you say nothing. No commands, no instructions. "May I... may I stand, lady?"

You nod. I climb to my feet for the first time in... how long? My legs tremble, barely able to support my weight. The door beckons me. After one, half-regretful glance, I turn away. I lean on the wall to keep my feet, making my way to you halting step by halting step. When I reach you I collapse. You catch me, holding me up with strong arms, then carefully lower us both to the floor. My head rests across your lap. You bend over my face and your hair tickles my skin. I am in heaven.