All stories have two sides. Each of us sees what we want to see from our own moral and motivational perspective, and this telling of our time together is his, and his alone...
I've always been the one to take other's choices away. My obsession if you will, this iron fist of mine. I never thought in my wildest imaginings I would be the one who sits here in this hellish world diminished by my own choices. Incarcerated by one of my own, my brother my betrayer. The will of Danish law enforced by concrete walls, bars of steel, and the drugs they ply me with.
I've long been troubled, but admissions of that nature would only constitute an inexcusable weakness, and I will not stoop to such a confession here. For I am in no way at all remorseful for any of the things I have done. In fact, I am very proud.
Women, delicate, young, and untried. I shake my head, yes especially her, she was my madness, my muse, she led me to this. Yes, you know the ones, the ones we all look at when we go about in public. The ones we pretend we are not looking at. Well, at least some of us do, but really it's just natural isn't it? The forbidden daughters of friends, the ones we pass in the streets, nubile, gorgeous women, most irresistible to me. I look at these four walls, blank, clinical, devoid. What I would not give that I could just behold her again.
A fleeting resurgence of my old never-sated lust, slight hardness beginning down below, accompanied by the trace of a wanting ache, a deepening of breath. I smile a self-satisfied gesture, cruel lips curling, and my hand seeks you out.
They cannot take her from me, even here behind bars. I still hear your plaintive cries for my mercy, the ones I do not heed as you cower at my feet. The ones that never fail to arouse me. They have not killed you yet in the annals of my mind, though they try. I close my eyes and I can if I concentrate very hard, over the screaming coming from the adjoining cell, I feel you, I taste you, I smell you. You become mine.
I first lay eyes on her entertaining my serious thoughts on a bright, humid, July summer's day. The kind we complain of in my cold homeland of Denmark, for me much too warm. I was thinking of the sea and a cool swim I would soon enjoy, and as I gazed on her I was even warmer and more troubled still. She would be mine I had already decided. However I was not daunted, very little stopped me from fulfilling my desires. Life is too short. Seize the day I thought, and that is exactly what I did.
She was not a complete stranger. I knew her name, Lidia Dubois, and yet I wanted it from her lips. Her father Michael and my stepfather Kai were close mutual friends. Two Europeans in this land of strange rules, and sometimes even stranger people, it was no wonder they sought one another's friendship. My father was his boss, my family was tendering a strip of condos here, and I was his foreman.
It always gave me endless pleasure at only twenty-nine to walk about the building site knowing men many years senior to myself were under my hand. I enjoyed it even more when I sensed they resented me. It fed me, it goaded my sadistic ego.
Yes, I had watched her from afar for some time. Something I wanted, something I would have. I know she saw, and she in her youth would smile nervously and hurry away. Ah but not before she gave me the come-on, all the girls here did. Redneck American sluts, they were everywhere, cheap and easy whores. They all desired a man like myself, a worldly capable man, a man with my family's wealth and influence.
I smiled at her and even though I knew her name I asked it. It was part of the game. She was helping her mother with the food, the older woman looked at me I saw mixed things there behind her eyes, fear, uncertainty, and possibly desire. Yes, her marriage I knew was far from a happy one. Possibly I may have been interested, but not today. It was her young daughter who held my eye and other parts of me as well.
"Lidia." She responded in the tiniest sweetest voice. I could barely hear her she was so hesitant, so very shy, and so exciting to me. She met my eyes for the briefest instant, lovely eyes neither gray nor blue. She inflamed me further with her unwillingness to maintain further eye contact. She was a natural-born slave.
"A very beautiful name," I replied not bothering to temper my lust. I did not care if her mother heard it. I had never cared what any woman's opinion of me was, they simply did not matter.
Her cheeks were unmistakably coloring at my attention, though I was unsure if she understood my heavy accent. Her mother looked at me conveying a diluted challenge, and called her daughter away. Later, I thought, later.
I had watched her from a distance throughout the day in between eating well and drinking even more. Clearly, the most desirable woman at her family gathering, though I cannot lie there were others I was furtively assessing as I lingered over my drink. I thanked my good fortune for just being here.
The water had felt good, it was in summer here on the gulf too hot for me. I was very fit but the temperatures still bothered me. I languished in the shade of the trees looking out at the distant waves lapping at the white sands, still relishing in the residual cool from my swim.
Movement and a splash of vivid rose on the dirt track behind me. I turned, I smiled, it was her, my Lidia. She had not seen me, I could see she was looking at the ground, lost in her own world. I could see her hair parted in the center on the crown of her lovely head. I flicked my towel over my shoulder and slowly sauntered up the path. My long wheat-colored hair, still dripping wet on my shoulders.
"I never got the chance to tell you my name." She stared up at me wide-eyed, would she run. I hoped not, I was ready to stay her. I leaned close she was intoxicating. "My name Lidia, is Master."
I could see she clearly did not understand, or did she? But it did not matter. My plans were lost on this her sweetness who stood in innocence before me. Another guarded look beyond her, her head only level with my chest, assuring myself we were not observed. The red dirt track was empty, and so was the distant horizon framed in the trees. She turned following my gaze. "Shush Lidia," I said and her trusting eyes returned to look up at me.
Decision made I put my arm about her. I had expected resistance to my desire, but I could see her father had taught her well. This little woman was ready and primed for my lesson. Off the pathway we went, into the seclusion of the trees and the dense dark green undergrowth. I crouched on my haunches to be level with her. I wanted to observe every moment of her confused awakening. My free hand caressed the side of her smooth face perfect and unblemished in its youth. Absorbing her confusion and raw fear at my actions.
"I have to go now." Her feeble voice stammered. "Mom will be looking for me." Yet I instinctively knew she wanted what I had.
Time to play the authoritative adult. "Not yet," I ordered. My voice was quiet but hard, my hand seeking the place between her smooth tightly closed and soft thighs. I hurt her, she was not ready, and I did wonder for a moment just how sexually experienced she was? I pressed her to me seeking to muffle her cries and better control her struggles, she was no match for me. No woman was except possibly one, but that was another story.
"Good sweet Lidia. Be still and listen. You little Lidia are marked for me, I have watched you from the first. One day you will be my little slave girl, that I promise." My highly charged words whispered close to her ear. My invading finger in her, her scent making me want with more than just my mind.
No Frej, not here, not yet. You will ruin what you have made. Not too fast.
"Now little one if I let you go you are not to tell a soul, not your sister not your mother, no one. If you do I will find you, and I will hurt you. It's our little secret understood?"
She nodded, looking up at me encircled in my unforgiving grasp. The first of my risky moves complete,
make her feel dirty, make her feel wrong, and give her an ugly secret to hide. Do it successfully and she will return. In time she will give herself over to me willingly.
I let her go, and she fled from my grasp. Her long hair flew, she looked back at me once and paused looking over her shoulder at me like a timid deer. Butterflies twisting in my gut as she departed, one really never knew if they would tell or not. I was damned if she did.
