Her legs ached from kneeling on so long on the hard wood floor of his dimly lit den. He had been speaking for a long time but she could no longer absorb the words. He was sending her away.
"Child, I am sending you to a friend of mine. He is a very good man. He has agreed to help me with something. You will treat him with all the respect and obedience you give me."
What had she done wrong? She struggled to be exactly the woman he wanted. She tried so hard to understand why he was sending her away to this man. This man, who was now her Master, had come to her when she was alone, wandering lost in the wind. He had given her a reason to live. She had lost herself in his world. He had tested her devotion to him in myriad ways. She had endured pain and learned his perfect grace. She had given up her name, her voice, her heart and her soul to him and he was sending her away.
Her heart was bleak. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts. Her throat tight with unshed tears. He disdained tears without a good reason. The only reason he accepted was pain. One of her first lessons was stoicism. He demanded she remain silent through even the most exacting of tests. He would say that he preferred see her pleasure and her pain in her eyes. If she could remain silent, he would sometimes hold her afterwards gazing deeply into her eyes.
His words penetrated her mind again. "You will go to your apartment. You will wait there until you get a package. Open the package, read the letter inside. Follow the instructions. Go home now."
A silent scream of anguish tore through her sanity. To be sent away from the refuge of his home, sent to the empty cold gray of her former life was a punishment of the worst sort. He forced her to keep the tiny efficiency apartment and used it as the ultimate threat of abandonment. 'You can always just go back to your apartment if you don't like it here. Apartment was her safe word. The one time she had used it he had sent her home to wait. She had waited there in despair for days before he called her to come back to him.
She nodded mutely and crept to the door. Her hands shook as she slowly pulled on the simple black dress she wore for the few times she went out. The soft fabric slipped easily over her nude skin, falling to her feet. She slipped her feet into the soft slippers and hooded floor length cape. Turning she looked back at him. He sat still, looking at her. A still white ghost in the darkened room. His face expressionless. His voice was cool and neutral, "Make me proud."
Her knees shook, almost betraying her. A thousand words shrieked in her mind but she had not spoken in his presence in months. Shy and reluctant to speak throughout her life, it had been an easy task to embrace silence, to retreat into speechlessness. Now it was a habit deeply ingrained. She could not prevent the strangled sound that welled up deep in her chest as she stumbled out the front door.
As the front door shut behind her she hesitated in the bright sun, dazzled after the dim light of his house. A bright yellow taxi waited in the drive. As she forced her feet to walk she heard his piano crash to life, harsh chords clashing and shaking the air. She could no longer hold back her tears, he always turned to his piano when he turned his back to her.
She waited an eternity in her apartment. She huddled in tiny ball on her bed, hiding in the darkness of the blankets, hiding in the grayness of her mind, hardly aware of the passage of time.
He had said for her to come here and wait. She lay in the grayness, floating, feeling nothing, thinking nothing, waiting. It was hard to pull herself back to the stark empty light of the tiny apartment when the insistent pounding on her door demanded her response. The delivery man was clearly in a hurry, his thoughts on the clock and his next place to be. He did not seem to notice her at all as she signed with a shaky hand.
The package was wrapped in brown paper. It had a return address of the Wanderbourne Clinic. It was not large, it contained a white blouse, a black skirt, a white garter belt with matching white silk stockings, and a pair of white heels.
The letter was short. "Wear only what you find in the box. Wear no make up, jewelry or perfume. Report Tuesday, June 2, at 9:00. A taxi will pick you up at 8:30 am." And an address. She looked at her cell phone to determine the day. Tuesday was tomorrow. She stood looking at the tiny piece of technology in her hand. She had never used it to make a phone call. Her Master had insisted she carry it the few times she left his apartment. She idly wondered what his number was.
She rose early. She bathed meticulously as if she was at her masters house. The blouse was tight, heavy cotton. It hugged tightly to her small breasts and slender waist. She was unsure if she should button it to the neck or not. She opted for leaving only the top button undone. The skirt was pencil thin, but long reaching down below her knees. A long line of small buttons ran down a seam along the side. The garter and stockings fit perfectly as did the shoes. The low white heels had rubber on the bottom of their soles so they were very quiet when she walked in them. She wasn't sure what to do with her hair but the lack of make up and the conservative cut of the clothes seemed to call for something simple. She chose a knot of her fine blond hair on the top of her head.
She arrived early, the taxi dropping her off in front of a forbidding stone house with a high stone fence surrounding an overgrown garden. She carefully checked the time on her cell phone and at exactly 8:55 she rang the intercom at the high gate. A woman's voice came over the speaker. "Miss Cassy?"
Her voice was soft and unsure. She had not spoken to another person in a long time. She had not thought of herself by that name for even longer. "Yes."
"Come up to the house please." The gate clicked and opened slightly. She pushed it open and cringed at the loud screech the hinges made as she opened it and swung it back shut again. The stone walk was wide and led up to a heavy timbered door. It was standing open and a young woman wearing an outfit almost identical to hers was standing watching her walk up. Her dark brown hair was cut in a sassy short cut, that complemented her heart shaped face. Cassy noticed that her blouse was buttoned clear to the top.
"Miss Cassy, you are on time. The Professor appreciates promptness. Please come in. My name is Windy. I am also a client here."
Cassy nodded, not sure what to say, unused to talking. Windy smiled and said, "The Professor said you aren't going to be much of a talker. Thats OK, I talk all the time." She giggled and turned to go in. "Come on in, the Professor wants you to wait in the study until he is ready for you."
Windy led her into a conservatively furnished room. She led her to a table at one side. There was a stack of papers on it and a pen. "The Professor wants you to read and sign all of these. Wait here until he comes to get you." Windy leaned over and whispered, "If you need to pee or what ever there is a bathroom just past that door on the left. He sometimes makes us wait a long time. Something about learning patience." Then she leaned close and briefly kissed Cassy on the lips, her tongue slyly slipping out and dabbing quickly at her lower lip. The soft touch was gone as quickly as it came. Cassy stood statue still, unsure how to react to this sudden intimacy from a stranger. Windy winked, her voice was mischievous, "Maybe we will have a chance to get to know one another, us both being here." She giggled again as she left the room.
Cassy sat down at the table. Her shoulders slumped. She missed her Master terribly. She had no idea why he had sent her here. She picked up the papers and began to read them. All the papers were on letterhead from a Wanderbourne Clinic. The first pages were a contract, stating that she was committing herself to the care of a Dr. Wanderbourne for mental health treatment. It said she consented to sexual therapy, medication as prescribed by Dr. Wanderbourne, and hypnosis. There was a separate sheet where she agreed to not leave the clinic without medical discharge. She signed all the contracts. The rest of the papers were lengthy questionnaires regarding her family, health, sexual, and work history.
Cassy tried to answer all the questions but most of the family history she did not know the answers for. She had grown up in the foster system and had only no memories of her childhood or biological family.
She seriously considered lying about her sexuality. She hated to admit how difficult it was for her to orgasm. It was something she felt deeply ashamed about. She knew she failed her Master when she could not come for him when he expected it. She never lied to him, but his demands for silence made it easy to avoid admitting her failure. To openly write down how rarely she was able to come would be an admission of her omissions.
The echo of her masters words, "respect and obedience," resonated in her heart. She honestly answered that she had not had an orgasm in months and had experienced only a few orgasms in her life. She answered that she did not masturbate, thinking to herself that she was sure her Master would never approve of her playing with herself. She did answer that she did find sexual contact stimulating and that she enjoyed being touched and pleasing her Master.
She had finished all the papers and sat quietly at the table for almost an hour. The house was eerily silent, except for the quiet ticking of a large mantle clock. She noticed that it did not chime on the hour.
She got up and quietly moved to use the rest room. It was impeccably clean and very modern in contrast to the obvious age of the house.
She looked at herself in the mirror. The tight blouse and skirt emphasized how thin she was. Cassy was aware she had been losing weight but was shocked that she looked so bony, almost skeletal. She looked at the girl in the mirror. She was small, only a little taller than five feet, very blond and fair. Without makeup she looked like a little girl more than the twenty two she was. She buttoned the top button of her blouse. The toilet flushing seemed obscenely loud in the silent house.
Cassy quietly moved back to wait in the study. She did not mind that the Professor was making her wait so long. She was afraid of what was coming. She wondered dimly if she would be able to go back to her Master soon. She sat at the table, her mind wandering, slipping gradually into that soft, dull gray place of nothingness that had been her refuge so often of late.
She slowly became aware that someone was watching her and turned to see a man standing not far behind her. She did not flinch but was intensely aware of her heart racing at a panicked pace. He was younger than she had anticipated. He was unusually tall, well over six and a half feet tall and very dark. He was not handsome, he had large bony features, and old scars from acne across his cheeks, but his eyes held a deep intensity. His body was angular and thin with large hands and feet. He practically crackled with energy.
He let her look at him from her seat for a minute before he spoke. "I will expect you to stand when I enter a room." Cassy nodded jerkily and stood. He moved to take the chair she had been sitting at and picked up the papers she had filled out. Cassy stood unsure of what she should do. Her master would have had her kneel but this man was an mystery. She stood and tried not to fidget. She carefully clasped her hands behind her and stared passively at the floor.
"I will expect you to answer any and all questions promptly and accurately." He carefully looked through the papers. "Foster family?"
"Yes, sir."
"You will address me as Professor, sir."
"Yes, Professor, sir."
