Telos Ch 01

Grace awoke lying on a soft white bed in a soft white room. Everything was a uniform white. The walls, the shelves, the door, the dresser. Even the paintings hanging on the wall and the books on the shelves were blank white. Only the faint shadows created by the diffuse lighting give things shape. It was a pleasantly neutral temperature, just slightly warm enough to notice. When she glanced down the bed she found that she was naked.

A clean shaven man in a nice suit was sitting by her feet.

"Am I dead?" asked Grace.

He shook his head. "No."

"Then why am I here?"

"You've been kidnapped," he explained mildly. "You'll be kept here until I'm satisfied with your training."

"My . . ." She shook her head to clear it to no effect but dizziness.

"Right you must be feeling a bit groggy and tired," said the man in the same neutral tone. He smiled politely. "Once that wear off and you can think you'll be much more upset about this. I would prefer you to be comfortable, though. Is there anything I can get you?"

"Hungry." Grace rubbed her face and drew herself away from him. "Food."

He nodded. "Of course."

The man opened the plain white door into a bright light and vanished. There was a second click as he locked it from the far side. He was gone for a long time, she thought, although, there was no way to measure time at all. The light never varied. She became increasingly aware of gnawing hunger in the belly and as the sedatives started to fade her agitation began to rise. Everything in the room was covered with fur or foam as if the designer were afraid she might harm herself. Most of the seemingly loose objects were screwed to what they sat on. Removing the books revealed them to be full of blank pages. After a while she found a camera watching her in one corner of the room.

"Pervert." The room deadened the sound of her voice.

In fact there was no sound at all in the room. The carpeting made footsteps silent. She tried screaming but stopped after a moment. Her rage sounded hollow without its echoes. When she spoke more softly the walls swallowed up the noise without acknowledgement. It made her feel impossibly small. After a time she stopped speaking altogether.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Blood rushed in her ears.

When the door was unlocked the sound made her jump. The door opened a moment later to let the man back in. He was holding a silver tray with a glass dish and glass utensils. Brightly colored slices of fruit filled the dish. He placed his tray on the dresser by the door.

She backed away from him.

"You asked for food," he said.

Grace glanced at the dish while trying to keep as much distance between them as possible.

"It's not poisoned or drugged. You should be able to trust me or we'll never make any progress in training you. If I violate that trust you'll be recalcitrant and I would never want that." The man removed a pill from his pocket. "This is the only drug you'll ever be asked to take."

"What does it do?"

"It makes you happy. I call it Bliss. You won't be tricked into taking it, I swear." He replaced the pill and picked up the tray again. "Eat. Being hungry will only make you weak."

Grace took a step forward. Then another. She snatched the glass dish off the tray and sat down with it on the bed to eat. "Thanks."

The man nodded. "I saw you on the camera. Some people try to break things or scream until they run out of breath. You accepted your situation very quickly. That good. I'd like to reward good behavior. Is there anything you want besides food?"

Her mind raced through a dozen options, trying to guess how he would react. "Let me go."

He laughed as if she had made an inoffensive joke. "That can only happen when you're well trained." His expression became more serious. "You shouldn't waste your favors, Grace, I'll give you another chance for a reward. Is there anything you want besides food?"

"A book. Something to read."

The man visibly considered the request then nodded. "I can bring that." He collected the dish from her and left into the light with the silver tray, locking the door behind him.

The delay before he returned was longer this time, she thought, but it was still hard to tell. When she noticed herself waiting silently for him she climbed off the bed and started to pace. She shouted at the walls. It felt childish to misbehave for the sake of it but she kept it up anyway. He wanted to give her favors in order to manipulate her. She refused to give the man that control.

Over time her movement slowed and her voice lost its certainty. It occurred to her that misbehavior might be delaying his return. The room was mind numbing. Speaking to her captor was the only stimulation she had. It had only been hours, maybe, and he had made it clear he wanted to break her will but she was already looking forward to seeing him again.

When the door opened again she turned toward it eagerly then composed herself. The door opened only a crack and a glass bowl with a gray gruel in it was pushed in. It closed before she could make her way over. There was a click as the lock closed.

She ate sullenly.

Several more times the door opened to provide her with food and a small amount of warm water. The food didn't seem to satiate her and the water did little for her thirst but she accepted the brief distraction nonetheless.

She managed to sleep a few times on the soft white bed. It was comfortably cool. Each time when she awoke she felt clean, her hair was soft and her skin was free of grime, but she was no less tried. It was as if the bed restored her body while draining her mind. Or perhaps the man had a way to bathe her while she slept.

At length the door opened and the man returned with a silver tray that held a small book with a white cover. "I think you will enjoy this."

"How long has it been?"

"Since when?"

"Since . . ." She wasn't sure exactly. "Since you took me. People will be looking."

"It's been a long time. They haven't stopped looking yet." He handed her the book. "Do you remember who is looking for you?"

"My family."

"And their names?"

"Um . . . I don't . . ."

"What country are you from?"

"I'm . . . I don't remember."

He nodded. "Good," the word made her shudder, "that should ease the transition for you."

"What did you do to me?" Anger welled up in her stronger than her fear and exhaustion. "What did you do to me?" She knocked the book out of his hands and tried to grab him.

He caught her easily and locked her arms behind her back. As gentle as his hold was her struggles accomplished nothing. "Grace, calm down before you hurt yourself," there was real concern in his voice.

"Let go of me!" She stamped uselessly on his foot.

"I don't want to sedate you, Grace, but I will. Being defiant gets you nothing." He voice was soothing, almost paternal. "You're just upsetting yourself. I brought you a book. Sit down. Read it. Relax. I'll bring a bit of food soon if you're a good girl."

"What did you do to me? What the hell did you do to me?"

"What did I do?" With a few quick motions he had taken a seat on the bed and forced her to sit on his lap with her arms still pinned behind her. "I've given you good food. I found a book for you to read. I've washed you to make sure you're clean. Can you really object that I took away a few memories that would cause you pain?"

"Yes!"

"Okay then," he smiled sadly. "You need time alone. I understand that."

He left silently.

The lock clicked ever so softly and she was alone again.

Grace screamed at the walls until she was horse then pounded on the door until she was exhausted. The bed invited her to sleep and in a few minutes she was unconscious.

When she awoke the room was still empty and silent and soft and white. She was clean, though, even her rage hadn't made him abandon her completely. Grace shook the thought out of her head. He was just trying to control her. Being washed wasn't a favor. It was a manipulation. So was the mind numbingly boring room she was trapped in. The book was lying on the floor where she had thrown it. Her hunger was back. She picked up the little white book and started to read.

The story was written in absurdly simple language in large bold letters, as if it had been meant for children. The main character was a young girl about her own age named Grace. Grace was a servant in a great house. Nothing was ever said about what the house looked like, in fact not a single object was described anywhere in the story. Detail was reserved for thoughts and events. Grace loved to serve. She was eager and happy when her master called on her. She did simple things. Set the table. Eagerly. Press the clothing. Happily. Dust the shelves. Eagerly. Make the beds. Happily.

The tone remained mild and the words remained simple even as the content darkened. Grace gave up her body to her owner. Eagerly. Happily. She took pills that made her mind go blank. Eagerly. Happily. Every page described Grace debasing herself a bit more to please her master. Eagerly. Happily.

Grace dropped the book in disgust.

But there was nothing else in the room. She tried screaming again but it seemed worse than simply hollow. The girl in the book never screamed and never went hungry. Grace was always happy. And eager.

She slept and ate many times. It was much longer alone than before, she was certain. As she ate and slept her hunger and her exhaustion worsened. The man continued to bathe her while she slept.

Her sleep was plagued with images of Grace.

Occasionally she read the book again to distract herself. She tried to read only the beginning where Grace was happy and eager to be a maid but it became as mind numbing as the empty room. Only the passages of eroticism and debasement held enough detail to reread. She began to treasure the parts that held at least held no humiliation for the girl in the book. Grace lying on a soft bed while her master made love to her. Grace taking a pleasant drug that left her bubbly and happy. Grace in the living room masturbating to memories of her master. Grace in the bathroom being bathed by her master.

Being washed. His hands roamed over her body. He pushed his fingers inside her sex, pumping waves of pleasure through her until she moaned in spite of herself. He left there too quickly. Her master's fingers brushed her ears with a gentle touch. He traced the strange curves inside and rubbed the sensitive skin behind the ear. Grace on the bed found herself trying to mimic the touch that Grace felt in the bath. To wet her hair he pushed her head below the water just a bit too long so that even eager happy Grace in the bath began to squirm. Grace closed her eyes in the warm water, on the soft bed, to wait for him to pull her back up into the air.

A kiss fell on her lips and she awoke.

Her master sitting on her bed beside her with a pleasant expression on his face. "The room needs to be cleaned today and you deserve a bath. You seem to be enjoying the book so much that I thought I'd give you a choice today." He took the colorful pill from in his jacket pocket. "Normally I have ways of keeping you asleep while I work but they're keeping you from getting a good rest. Take this instead."

"Bliss," she recalled.

"It is an accurate name, I promise. The sedatives have been keeping you from sleeping properly while I clean you. The Bliss will make you feel better."

She watched him suspiciously.

"Have I ever lied to you or hurt you? Trust me. This is better."

Grace accepted the pill nervously. When her exhausted mind tried to protest the memory of the drug in the book drowned it out. She swallowed it whole while her master gave her an approving smile.

A million different kinds of pleasure came rushing through her body. It built from the smallest things into overwhelming ecstasy

Warmth. The feeling of flower petals on her skin. New love. A sort of dreamy comfort that came to her just before sleep. The taste of sugar. Joy. A lover's caress. A cleansing shower. Orgasm. Safety. Fulfillment. The scent of morning coffee. Euphoria.

Bliss.

Just before the drug wiped out her conscious mind a single thought occurred to her. She wasn't the girl in the book. The man was her captor not her master.

And then pleasurable haze of the drug completely dominated her thoughts. The heavenly sensation lasted for what felt like hours. If anything occurred around her it was meaningless. Everything beyond her skin was an ethereal realm, a hypothetical. Only the Bliss was real.

She awoke better rested than she could remember in her life, just as her master had promised.

The sheets were folded and the book had been placed down by her feet. Grace read it from the beginning all the way through. The world where Grace lived to serve, eagerly and happily, felt wonderful but by the time she reached the end she was disgusted with herself for liking it.

Memories of the Bliss competed in her mind with a vague notion of clarity. Images of the eager, happy Grace warred with thoughts of independence. It was becoming hard to remember which beliefs were hers and which her captor had planted in her head. All she was sure of was that some of the thoughts were bad. In the blank white room it was hard to think.

Food came through the door occasionally. She drifted back to the book from time to time when boredom overwhelmed her. Once in a while she made it to the end. Other times anxiety came unbidden and forced her to put it down.

The more she tried to think the more upset she became.

Sleep brought her peace but while she was awake it was impossible to keep her mind empty of the unpleasant questions. There was no one to ask about them. Alone in the empty room she had to live either inside her head or inside the book. More and more she chose the book.

Every time the door opened she looked toward it expectantly. Her master would talk to her if he came in. That was all she wanted. Just to talk to him. He might bring the pills as well but her mind told her not to ask for them if he came. Only greedy girls wanted Bliss. Grace never asked for the drug. The good Grace in the book was never demanding. She was eager and happy. Master gave her Bliss when she earned it.

Without the Bliss, though, she found that sleep gave her no real rest. A week, a month, an hour, before that had simply felt inevitable. Now she remembered the Bliss. She wanted proper sleep.

Eventually the man returned with the silver tray and the glassware. The brightly colored fruit was set in the dish rather than the gruel she had subsisted on. "How are you today?"

She shrugged groggily.

He offered her the small glass of water. It was cool to the touch, unlike the tepid water that came through the door without her master's face. She drank it quickly. "Thank you."

"Of course. How are you today?"

"I don't know."

"I want you to be happy," He said. "Tell me what will make you happy. What do you want?"

Grace rubbed her arms. "It's all wrong when I think. Everything makes me confused."

"That's okay." He brushed her cheek. "We can make that better."

"But I'm not sure if I want to." The words almost made her cry. "I'm afraid of being better. There's a voice that says I should tell you no."

"The voice wants you to be sad and confused?"

"Maybe. It's too hard to think. It says I shouldn't be better. It says you'll hurt me."

"You must hear how silly that sounds, Grace. When have I hurt you?" His fingers brushed the skin behind her ear and she pressed toward him in response. "How could you not want to be better?"

She hesitated. "I want it again."

"Tell me."

"The . . . the pill. The drug." She squirmed in his arms. "Bliss. Please I want it."

He caught her ear between his fingers. A slight pressure forced her to turn to look at him. "Tell me why."

"It makes me stop thinking."

Her captor shook his head. "Right now I need you to keep doing that. Tell me what you're thinking."

"No . . . no . . . its wrong. The drug. Please."

"Don't be so greedy." He pushed a thumb against his lips and she latched on reflexively. Her master smiled at her. "See what I mean? Greedy. Let go now."

Her mouth released his thumb with a pop.

"But you are obedient." He patted her head. "That's a good girl, Grace. If you tell me what I want to know I'll think about giving you Bliss."

The struggle behind her eyes lasted less than second before he saw her resistance crumble in face of the reward. "Okay."

"Good. Tell me the first thing that comes to mind."

"I . . ." She almost choked on the words. "I don't want to be a slave. I want to be free."

"And you know that's wrong, don't you?"

She nodded.

"So fight it, Grace." He stroked her hair. "You know you can be good. It will make you so happy."

"But it's hard. . ."

"I need your help to break you," he cooed. "You're so strong and you fight so hard." He kissed her lightly on the lips. "Be strong for me. I want you to use all that willpower to fight those bad thoughts. Do it for me."

Graced struggled with the errant thought until she was panting and breathless. It was too firmly embedded for her to dislodge. As tired as she was all she could do was quiet it by thinking about good things. He waited for her to relax before speaking again.

"That was a very good effort."

She smiled weakly.

"Did you win?"

She made a pained expression and shook her head. "I tried. I promise I did."

"I'll give you motivation then. Even better than the Bliss." He repositioned himself so he was straddling her waist. His hands slid over her body from her hip, along her belly, over her breasts, and came to rest lightly on her throat. "The Greeks called it telos. It means purpose but more than that. Essential purpose. Your telos is what you exist to do. Do you know how few people have that?"

Grace shook her head, unable to move the words past his hands.

"That was a rhetorical question, my silly little slave. No one can know for sure why they exist." He leaned forward so their lips were almost touching. "Except for you. Once I break you I'll give your life absolute clarity of meaning. The contentment that comes from knowing your place will bind you like nothing else. You'll be able to crush the voices that tell you to be free. No one will be able to threatened you with freedom because you'll know how to stop them."

She shuddered beneath him.

"Tell me what you're thinking."

"You're doing something to me . . . to my head."

"I'm helping you to fix it. We're going to work together and get rid of those bad thoughts."

"But why don't I want it?"

"Because you're so strong." He moved his hands to the back of her head, never breaking contact with her skin, and twined his fingers gently in her hair. "I had to break you up into little pieces." He pulled her head back to expose her neck. "Some of those pieces still want to fight being a slave. They think independence will make you happy." He kissed her just above the collar bone. "We need to protect you from them. There are good parts inside of you, obedient parts."

"Oh . . ." The response was so airy it was hardly a word.

He kissed his way softly up her neck then crushed his lips against hers and pulled away so he could look into her eyes. "Decide who you want to be." When she tried to answer he placed a finger on her lips. "I want to give you time to think. This is your choice and it can't be rushed."

With that he left her in the white room, alone with herself. There was no sound of the lock clicking after it closed.

Grace stared at the door in shock.

She touched the knob and found she could turn it. She could leave if she wanted to. Grace would never open the door without permission, though, she would wait by the door and wait for master to return so she could greet him. Eagerly. Happily.