The Breaking Ch 01

Seething anger made the air so suffocatingly thick in the room that I felt like I was breathing in water. The intensity of the eyes glaring down at me made the surface hairs all over my body feel as if they were electrified. My scalp prickled and my ears and cheeks burned like hot coals. I heard a deep inhalation of air that was then spat out towards the ceiling through gritted teeth. Restrained, heavy footsteps stormed away from me, followed by a door slamming so thunderously that the splintering of its wood could be heard for moments thereafter. Undoubtedly dislocated hinges creaked and moaned as the door slumped into its new position.

I remained kneeling, shins flat on the floor, toes flexed so that the tops of my feet were also flat on the floor. My bare ass cheeks were clenched together so tightly that my naked thighs were impenetrable. I was faced towards the door, shoulders square, my exposed breasts thrust precariously forward, and my back defiantly rigid. My fingers were laced behind my head so tightly that the tips of my fingers ached from lack of circulation. My pounding heart battered the inside of my rib cage. The blood gushing through my veins made my head throb. Sweat trickled down and pooled in the small of my back. Insolent tears soaked through my blindfold. I was infuriated too, beyond measure.

Deprived only of sight, my senses grasped at anything in my environment that could inform me of what was to come. Yet, there was nothing; only deafening silence within the chamber. Holding my stance, I waited. Gradually, my muscles began to sag and fatigue. The self-righteous rebelliousness that had once fueled them like adrenaline drained almost completely away. Still, I waited. I marked the passage of time by counting heartbeats until I felt the changing position of the sun on my back as it descended from its apex, then finally extinguished. The grumbling of my stomach tolled the time. Alone, I waited.

Never once did I touch the blindfold. Subconsciously, I knew that I could not remove it, but I resisted that innate knowledge with every fiber of my being. I was not restrained. My thoughts flitted to getting up, finding my clothes and leaving. But, I had been challenged. I do not back down from challenges. I always come out on top. Always. This was no longer a game, a dipping of my toes in proverbial waters. Knowing that my nerve center had been pricked with such depraved indifference made my blood boil. I was even angrier still with myself for allowing someone to probe me so. At those times, my temper flared and I shook with resentment. Despite freedom being feet away, I stayed firmly rooted where I was out of sheer stubbornness. More time passed. Inwardly, I was weakening.

Footsteps gradually approached. They were relaxed and nonchalant this time. I even caught the merry whistle of a tune that was familiar. I hurriedly resumed my arrogant posture; my blood began to simmer. He had kept me waiting too long. I heard the strained hinges creak as the lop-sided door slid heavily across the floor when he entered. I heard the flick of a light switch, then an annoyed sigh as he took in the damage. He brought a cool air in with him. He smelled woodsy--manly. Of their own volition, my nipples hardened.

God only knows how long it had had taken him to return. He moved about the room with a purpose, even passing near me a couple of times. I could feel his closeness. But for those moments, I was completely ignored. All of my muscles quivered. Despite my efforts to appear otherwise, I was extremely fatigued. With him back in my surroundings, my senses were overloaded. I listened impatiently as he seemed to be moving furniture and arranging things in the room. I tried hard to identify what those things were, but all I could gather was what sounded like the pouring of gravel into a metal pan. Finally, when he must have completed his tasks, he walked back to the doorway, flicked off the light switch, and pulled the door shut. I listened to his footsteps fade away.

I was humiliated. There I was sitting alone in the dark again. I couldn't overlook the fact that I was naked nor that I was starving, nor that my bladder was behaving spitefully against me. This time I was not full of rebelliousness. This time I was feeling mighty stupid. My whole body was sore from head to toe from being so full of tension. I repositioned myself, flexed and stretched my aching muscles. I took off the blindfold, but sat in the dark, becoming morose and introspective. He was right about me. Indeed, I was haughty, petulant, demanding, spoiled, controlling. My parent's money and cronyism had paved the way for many golden opportunities; notably my career as a corporate attorney for a well-known national law firm.

He had wisely recognized that, underneath it all, no matter how competitive I was, nothing would ever be enough for me. I was used to getting my way. I was used to cavalierly toying around with love-struck men who had no idea about the utter disdain I had for them. All my life, I had been like the whirling winds of a tornado: powerful, destructive, and short-lived. But he knew that I was scared and insecure and desperate to fill the cavernous void in my life. As he peeled those layers away, I felt vulnerable. What did I do in response? I behaved like a petulant child, lashing out with anger and venom when he alighted upon a sore spot: the fact that my whole existence was a charade. I had pushed him to the brink, testing his self-control; daring him to lose it. But he didn't. I couldn't control him.

As comprehension sunk in, my will weakened even more. Sullenness gave way to a wave of tears. Suddenly, a damn within me burst. I wept and wept and curled myself up into a tight ball on the floor. I wept for joy. I wept for pain. I must have fallen asleep and into dreaming because I awoke with a start, mortally afraid that he was gone forever. The sun was again on my back, but I couldn't tell how long it had been shining.

I gathered myself into a kneeling position; shins flat on the floor, toes flexed. I relaxed my body, settling my ass cheeks on the backs of my legs, spreading my thighs apart and thrusting my hips forward enough to be inviting, but not vulgar. I straightened my back, pushing my breasts out enough so their perky fullness could be appreciated. I secured the blindfold in place and then placed my flat palms lightly on tops of my knees. I bowed my head and waited.

I did not wait long before I heard footsteps approach. He came into the room. My nostrils flared as they recognized the unmistakable aroma of French fries, which were, without a doubt accompanied by a burger. I made out the rumple of a paper bag and the unwrapping of foil paper. Just as that happened, my stomach growled like a Rottweiler and my bladder gave me an ultimatum.

He came over and squatted down next to me. Something plopped on the floor in front of me and, from the smell; I could tell it was the burger. Then, a loud clatter of what sounded like a metal bucket clanked down. Suddenly, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back hard, turning my face up to the ceiling and causing me to lose my balance. I gasped and yelped in surprise. He ripped the blindfold off, causing me to blink rapidly against the glare of the light in the room. God my back was hurting and my muscles were screaming! He wrung one of my nipples so hard I saw stars. He held me there, watching me flounder like a fish. Leaning close and looking me straight in the eyes, he said in a voice more sinister than I thought him capable of, "Since you are still here, bitch, you will do as I say, when I fucking say it or you will regret it." At that, he thrust me forward onto my hands and knees. My heart pounded. Until I took a breath, I hadn't realized I was holding it. It was then that I saw the burger where it had been tossed on the floor and the bucket.

"Choose." He said it so politely that I could hardly distinguish him from the sinister man in my ear not thirty seconds before. "I will not tell you again. Eat or piss. Choose." Comprehension sunk in. I looked at him, my mouth agape. Before I saw it coming, he smacked me across the face so hard, I could feel each impression of his fingers. Tears welled in my eyes and dripped to the floor as I tried to keep myself from sobbing. I bowed my head and reached for the bucket.

My body burned with embarrassment. As I pulled myself up to use my latrine, he said, "Squat over the bucket and don't piss until I tell you to, whore." Not wanting another smack, I moved as quickly as I could. God, this was humiliating beyond humiliation. I squatted over the bucket, muscles trembling from soreness and waited for his command. Smirking, he said, "Piss." And I did.