I helped them get organized with the computer in the office. I just gave them all the passwords they might need to access literally any part of my life. My new mantra was "either they were trustworthy or not and not trusting them wasn't going to tell me which". I couldn't keep living my life so scared of the consequences that I was wasting my opportunity to enjoy it. I was going to just trust fall into this entire situation. Well maybe not the physical side of the situation.
I couldn't shake the tightness in my chest from Somas rebuke. Was I supposed to feel bad for not falling into bed with people I'd just met this morning? Not even a bed just an office sofa that had somewhat reminded me of my fathers but not enough to suck me into the past every time I stepped into the room. And I hadn't just met them this morning, I'd bought them in one of the top ten most traumatic times of my life and I've lived a reasonably traumatic life.
I climbed up the stairs to my room deciding that a shower might be the way to just wash the stress away. I definitely wasn't going to try and work or do housework today and with Ash here cooking there wasn't anything else to do but destress and process my change in circumstances. I climbed the stairs and heard quiet music seeping from under Nichells door. It made me smile to feel my house being lived in. It also made me feel secure not to be alone as the sun was falling behind the highest trees. This would be the first time I had slept within 100 feet of another human being in two years.
I entered my room thankful for this moment of quiet solitude. I just needed a minute to think about this morning and then this afternoon. A breather that didn't cause nerve shattering anxiety about the future or overwhelming unforeseen waves of lust that make me feel equally out of control. It was reasonable to step back and question such strong new feelings.
I frowned.
Why would he imply that I thought of him as less of a person? I only wanted to make sure there was real consent and interest not just obligations and expectations. What the hell had I been thinking to say I wanted a polyamorous relationship with four people? I'm barely capable of being in a traditional relationship. I went from a lonely life of fear and isolation to... this. Whatever this life was going to be.
I grabbed comfy yoga pants, a thin high-necked tank, an oversized hoodie and fuzzy socks to complete my no-of-course-I'm-fine-what-else-could-I-be? look. I briefly debate between the shower and the bath and decide to just go for a quick shower. I turn on the water to get warm, take off my clothes and then pause on my way to the laundry chute, standing in front of the mirror, just looking at my body. I try to see myself as a stranger might see me, to separate myself from the torture that caused scars across almost all of the skin between my neck and knees. To just see what's there and not color the pain and humiliation over my reflection. I push at the memory of what I'd looked like in the back of the ambulance but can't stop it from overtaking me.
That had been the first time I had been able to see clearly since they'd taken me, the first time I'd seen what I'd become on the outside.
The warehouse where the police had found me wasn't lit and the dim street lights hadn't been bright enough to see myself clearly. The deep ligature marks around my wrists and ankles had been the worst by far. The skin openly weeping blood and pus the edges looking melted from the heat, the thick wire still embedded deep in the flesh of my joints. I'd worried I was going to loose my hands, they were so discolored and the wounds were so deep.
The rest of me was a terrible collage of cuts, bruises, burns and the thick textured gashes left by a long whip. I'd wept and the salty tears had burned my cracked lips, the sobs had wracked my battered body and I had passed out as a wave of agony swallowed my consciousness.
I finally surfaced from the deep well the memories tried to pull me into, swallowing them along with the bile coating the back of my throat, but I didn't give myself any mercy. I didn't let myself look away from my reflection. I forced myself to see the current reality not the pain or the memory. Around my neck, ankles and wrists were deep indents of slightly knotted tissue lighter than the surrounding skin.
Many plastic surgeries later those were still by far the worst, the rest had either been sanded down or filled in, leaving only the road map of lighter tracery wrapping from the back to the front. I had only had the minimum amount of surgical intervention to repair any inhibited function due to stiffness or contracture but there had still been more than ten different surgeries. I mean it looked like I'd been run through a wood chipper that miraculously spared most of my front but I wasn't as grotesque as I felt. I realized for the first time that everything besides the ligature marks just weren't that bad.
Steam began to fog the mirror obscuring the details and I was surprised to see that I was kind of hot. A nice curvy hourglass figure that maybe had more padding than had been fashionable the last time I'd cared about fashion. I had never allowed myself to over or under eat so worried that my eating habits might be used against me somehow. But I just hadn't been destined to be one of those super skinny girls.
My eyes were a too light blue with a dark ring that I had always thought made me look like a malamute more than a person. I was a medium height neither tall nor short with wavy black hair that fell to just above the curve of my bottom. I felt like the hair was my best feature. My thick flowing hair had occurred almost entirely through neglect as I just kept doing the minimum effort it took to keep it out of my face and smelling clean. I knew from long ago that with less length it became a riot of much less manageable curls and so long had seemed preferable when I stopped wanting attention.
But I wasn't the horror I'd somehow been expecting. The steam from the shower had wiped away all of my features leaving only the person shaped silhouette and I wished removing the interior reflection of the scars was as easy. I stepped into the shower and thought about what had happened with the twins. A wave of arousal moved through me tightening my nipples and causing my core to clench around the emptiness they had wanted to fill. I ran my hands over my body, imagining that it was them.
I cupped my naked breasts with on hand and ran the other down the soft curve of my stomach down to my mound. I parted my folds circling my clit. I pictured Soma on his knees running his tongue the length of my slit before plunging a large finger deep inside me. I matched the imaginary movements. I leaned against the wall trying to convince my mind that cold tile was warm flesh. That the fingers massaging pert flesh and applying the perfect pressure to dusky pink nipples were Suryas.
I failed.
The lonely reality couldn't compete with the true touches we'd exchanged. I moaned in familiar frustration. My body craved anothers touch, I felt more empty and aching than I ever had before. I wished I could be carefree with intimacy because I felt pent up and needy. But was I so desperate that I would take advantage of people? Was I taking advantage? They had implied I wasn't but could they really make that determination? They had been shaped into giving total obedience to whoever purchased them. But then I'd told them to be themselves. Could they even truly know who they were outside of the company that trained them without having experienced it.
What about Nichelle and Ash? Nichelle and I had what felt like a true connection but did she have a clear picture of how she'd been shaped by the company. Ash hadn't seemed as brainwashed as the rest so maybe he could help me work with them. Owning them, knowing that I could do anything to them was a heady, tempting moral trap. I just can't let myself take advantage of anyone. I could be honest with myself now that I truly did want them all in a purely physical way but I didn't just want their bodies I wanted their devotion. And I wanted to earn it, not just have it handed to me because of psychological conditioning. If they can prove to me that they consider themselves more than just my obedient property I'll keep the promise I made at lunch.
I shut the water off after completing my shower routine, glad of having come to a decision about how to proceed. I made a promise to myself to set aside any self deprecating nonsense about my scars. To let myself get lost in the moment, like I almost had with the twins. Wringing my hair out and wrapping my self in a towel I realized I'd forgotten to bring underwear into the bathroom and walked back into my bedroom only to let out a startled shriek at the site of Ash standing in my closet hanging up a blazer, his bags open at his feet. I sprinted full out back into the bathroom. And then I realized what his bags meant. He was moving into my room. Shit.
"What the actual fuck, Ash?!" I shriek and clutch the towels and clothes tighter. I leaned against the moist door and tried to think through how to proceed. He couldn't move into my room. My scars may not be as bad as I had always pictured them but I wasn't sure I was ready to put on the full show. Speaking of which, I quickly threw on the clothes even though I hadn't retrieved any undergarments. Knowing I couldn't have a conversation with him wearing only a towel. Not that having it without a bra or panties was much better but this was an emergency. I could address that particular issue later after I got him properly situated. Elsewhere. I flung open the door ready to do battle only to be brought up short by the wide chest directly in front of my face.
