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Full Circle
Rocking backwards and forwards in the darkness. It was my world, the sum of my being, the core of my soul. I recall naught else. Had anything gone before? If it had, what was it exactly? I did not know, my mind was devoid of these things. Who am I, what is my purpose? I exist only for him, why was he not near?
I would wake at intervals and cry for him, they were dragging him away,
no one was listening, why?
My pleas soundless from a throat raw, all were deaf and blind to me and my pain.
Then to my relief I realized he was close to me sleeping in the big bed. I burrow closer, his back is comforting and warm, his abundant long hair tickling my face. Reassurance at last and fleeting pleasure, I can rest now.
A nameless disconcerting worry still claws at me, I don't remember this place, at least I think I don't. Though I sense I have indeed been here before. In the dark with the curtains drawn I cannot see too well, I have no idea of where I am. I have to trust he will keep me safe.
I remember the water it is azure and deep, not uninviting, his hands pressing me under. I gasp and wake, he is holding me. Stroking me in the dark, his voice soft and low, reassuring. I lay back he has inadvertently brushed the rings in my nipples, and I am ready for him. I spread my legs wide beneath the covers as he would wish. I wait for him to take that which is his right.
"No Lidia, rest," he says.
I want him, I writhe and moan next to his heavily muscled frame. He holds me, but does not quench my desire. I finally succumb to sleep.
The thin light seeps slowly into the room, pale on the steel gray carpet. I drift into semi wakefulness and stare up at the tall bedposts, and the dark canopy over the bed. I don't remember Master's bed looking this way.
I turn, he has his back to me, shoulders wide and strong. I burrow into his mane of golden hair like straw drinking him in, but it isn't the thick curtain of wheaten gold I am familiar with, and the broad shoulders are inked in intricate designs.
I withdraw suddenly. This man is not him. I bolt from the bed in dire fright unthinking, but I am checked mid flight by a length of silvered chain. I had not until then noticed had been locked to my collar and tethered to a bedpost. The steel does not flex or bend and as I reach the end of the chain. I fall to the floor with a suddenness and an awful strangled cry.
He is out of the bed in mere moments touching me, I am pushing him away. This man is not him, the only one with the license to touch me with impunity. Yet he is strangely familiar to me. I cease my struggles to look at him, but only for a moment. He wrestles me to the carpet, gray eyes on me, locked on my own. I look away from him I cannot meet his gaze directly, he is speaking to me; I do not comprehend his words. I wait for that which I understand, his brutality, a slap, at the very least a hard pinch. He does neither, instead he does the unexpected and retreats to the room beyond.
I stare after him, I am fruitlessly tugging on the chain silently pleading to be freed. I need to be gone from here it is my only certainty.
He returns promptly to again crouch at my side. I feel his hand tangling in my hair as he pulls my head back, my earlier fight returns in force. I make to bite his hand as it nears my mouth. He is holding something I am wary of. I cannot see what it is, however I know it bodes ill for me. I am twisting and writhing violently in his steady grasp, he is pulling my hair with merciless abandon eliciting painful tears. He holds me tightly, his body feels like steel, he is greater and stronger than I. I fight him still, undaunted. I bite him again harder this time, there is blood, I taste it in my mouth. I am bolstered by my victory.
He is rougher on the next attempt as he forces my jaw open and pushes the pills down my throat, with little regard for the safety of his fingers. I swallow them, I had not meant to, my spirits plummet when I realize he has won. Cheated, I bite his fingers again in an act of spite as he withdraws them. He yelps in pain, but he does not retaliate, instead he sits close by as the pills take effect, watching on. I fight them with all I have, but it makes no difference as I go sliding headlong into the dark.
It is late I can tell by the quality of the light in the room, muted, somber. I wake groggy, tied to a four poster bed on my back. My mouth is dry, I feel like I am in the desert parched and stiflingly warm.
The phone is ringing insistently by the bedside, it is the very thing that had woken me. A man answers it in an adjoining room, I strain to make out what he is saying. Slowly my sundered senses return to me, torn by my unquenched desire to drink.
"Oh good I'm glad. He says. Followed by protracted silence. "Oh well that's not so good." The same voice now laced with deep concern. "Yes, well, I appreciate it, if anything changes can you call me? I will be home or you can reach me on my cell phone. Thank you very much." The phone is hung up, silence returns to the room.
I was not aware I had drifted back to the realm of sleep, the drugs were hard to shake, he was by me, I woke again with a start.
"It's alright Lidia you are here with me, you are safe it's Svend."
I felt his hand on my face stroking me as I flinched away from his touch. "Its alright." He repeated patiently as though he was calming a wild animal. I could see his hand was bandaged in white linen, he continued to stroke my cheek carefully, his eyes never leaving me for even a moment.
"I would let you up but I don't quite trust you, you have to help me Lidia." He pleaded, sounding tired and strained.
Slowly my addled wits began to collect themselves, and the partial terror of the night before permeated. I had to know how Master was, nothing else was more important to me.
However Svend was swifter than my groggy reaction time. "Frej, err your Master is stable Lidia, he is doing well. He's still under heavy sedation, but he was strong and survived the night. They say he is now out of danger." Svend smiled, trying to sound upbeat cautiously petting me, but he was not wise to the fact my ability to read a man's body language was a very finely tuned skill. I knew instinctively he had not told me all, and Master was not as fine as his elder brother was admitting.
"Can we see him?" I croaked, my voice was quite gone, my throat raw and uncooperative.
Had I really been screaming that loudly?
I wished I could remember the events clearly of the previous evening. He paused in deep consideration, and I sensed he would reply with an unfavorable answer. I was right.
"I think it's best if we wait. Mother and Father will be going to see him tonight. I think we should wait a little while."
Why was he stalling, what was he hedging at? What was wrong?
"Now if I let you up you promise to act civilized?" He gazed at me earnestly, his iron gray stare as bleak as the fading sky outside.
"He was supposed to be in court tomorrow." I suddenly remembered, speaking the thought out loud to no one in particular.
