*Penultimate chapter*
*Apologies for the math*
--
Genevieve was given free reign of the bathroom and closet for a full two hours to prepare for dinner with Alder. She opted for the bath rather than the shower, and spent a full half hour soaking in the hot water. She could feel her bruises aching in response to the heat. They covered her legs, front and back, buttocks, stomach, arms, and breasts. There was a small one on her right cheek bone where Alder had slapped her, but the worst was the almost hand-shaped mark that wrapped around her neck. They were varying shades of black, blue, purple, and sickly yellow, which worried her the most, even though it meant the bruise was healing. Only five days had passed since her punishment for lashing out at Alex, and the lesson was not one she'd soon forget.
For five days, she had been wavering between submission and resistance. Five long days of her mind breaking in two: one half wanted nothing more than to hide from the pain, to make sure it never happened again, but the other half revelled in it, survived because of it.
She had slept in Alder's bed four out of five nights, which were filled with uneasy dreams of violence against her "Master". The defiant half of her had gone through every way of attacking him. The only ones she saw as viable were an attack on his genitals or his eyes. Especially the eyes. She would be able to squeeze them quickly, blinding him, incapacitating his obvious strength. She wouldn't even need a knife or her teeth, like she would for his cock.
Every time these thoughts became too tempting, the other half of her would cuddle up next to him in bed. Usually, he would shift to welcome her, wrapping his arms around her, twice waking and fucking her mouth. She did this, not for comfort, or distraction, but to remember the touch of his hand. To remind herself that he could be gentle and that he was in control.
She washed her hair with the coconut soap Alder had chosen for her, conditioned, rinsed, shaved and washed her body. She dried herself with all speed, knowing the longest task would be blow drying her hair. Luckily, Alder didn't like too much makeup, so she didn't have to worry about that, but her hair was about an inch longer than when she had arrived, and it would take at least half an hour to manage it.
By the time it was straight, her face was sweating from the heat of the blow dryer, so she used the cool setting to blow some cold air on her brow. Her skin was clear and fresh, her hair dark and dry, her eyes still had a glimmer of hatred in them, although it was beginning to die.
She frowned at her reflection and opened her mouth. "I hate you," she said. She wasn't sure if she was addressing Alder, Alex, or herself. She shut her eyes and was happy in the dark.
But she only had twenty minutes, so she left the mirror and ventured into the closet. There were two distinct sides. The first had about a hundred different mens suits, all extra large, but all from high-end retailers. Her mother had always been into fashion, so Genevieve could recognize a good maker when she saw one: Zegna, Brioni, Armani. They would cost a fortune in a regular size, but to fit Alder, they must have all been special orders and were therefore even more expensive. She shook her head in disbelief and got lost in his rainbow of ties, all of a similar caliber as the suits. His shoes-more than twenty pairs-were arranged in neat rows on the floor, and she pulled open the drawers to find his casual clothes and fitness wear. He seemed to like the color blue, but other than that, all she could tell was that he had very classic taste.
The second side was hers, although she would be pressed to find a full outfit among all the lingerie. The only things that seemed to cover everything at once were the multitude of dresses, all as classic in their styles as his suits, and all from luxury designers. On her second day in captivity they had taken her measurements, and she had lost weight since then, so she was sure everything would fit. She looked at each one in turn, remembering Alder's words: something extravagant, black-tie.
She chose a black Dior floor-length gown. It looked simple at first, a v-neck with a plummeting slit down the middle between her breasts that ended a few inches above her navel. The dress was form fitting all the way down to her knees, flaring out and ending at her feet with solid black fabric, but at her hips a long, sheer tail began blossoming, revealing the form beneath, but adding a draping fishtail that ran behind her a few feet. When it was on and zipped up, she looked at herself in the mirror. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, and certainly the nicest thing she would ever wear in her life. She could only pity the situation.
After she had admired the dress for a few minutes, she looked through the drawers on her side of the closet and found boxes of jewelry, more underwear, and bottles of perfume. She chose a statement necklace as her only piece of jewelry. It was a collar of diamonds and sapphires. Blue seemed a good choice, based on all of Alder's clothes. She also used a sparing puff of Chanel No. 5, but what she was really looking for were shoes. There didn't seem to be any for her. No slippers, sandals, heels, sneakers. When she was done looking, she walked around in the dress and found that it was a good length without heels anyway, so she left the closet barefoot. She double-checked her reflection in the mirror, brushed her hair again, and left the bathroom.
Alder was waiting for her in the bedroom, buttoning up his cuffs with cufflinks. He turned at her entrance and his face lit up when he saw her.
"Wow," he said. He twirled his finger, and she spun in a little circle for him to see everything. Then he crooked his finger, and she walked over to him. "Beautiful. I didn't look through the things the boys brought for you, but I think they deserve a raise. The only thing I'd change is this necklace, but that's for later. Are you hungry?"
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Let's eat then." He offered her his arm, which she took, and led her to the dining room. It was a cavernous, windowless room, with dark wood-panelled walls and wall sconces that had real candles to light the room. Four lit candelabras sat on the table, which was meant for twenty people easily. Overhead, two grand chandeliers were also lit with real candles, something she didn't think she had ever seen. It was dim and well lit at the same time. Intimate.
Only two places were set at the corner of the table, so they could be seated as close as possible. There were two sorts of wine glasses set out, a salad and dinner plate and six pieces of cutlery for each of them.
He led her to her seat and pulled her chair out for her. When he pushed it in, he leaned over and kissed her neck, just above the necklace. She looked up at him when he retreated, and saw the usual smile on his face. He took his seat and sat slouched in the chair, fingers steepled in front of him, legs spread wide. "I'm excited for tonight," he said. "A good meal, a beautiful girl. What more could a man ask for?"
Genevieve didn't know whether she was supposed to answer or not, and he just smiled at her, offering no suggestions. A side door, which she had mistaken for a wall panel, swung open, and a woman dressed as a waiter entered with two glasses of sparkling water, each with a slice of lime. Alder sat up in his seat, took his glass and thanked her. Genevieve's eyes were glued to the waitress. She was the first woman Genevieve had seen since she had been taken. The waitress smiled and asked which wine they would like first, the red or the white.
"The white," said Alder. "But give us a few minutes first."
The waitress nodded. "The soup will be out first, sir. Lobster bisque."
With that, the woman left, leaving Genevieve speechless. Was she aware of the situation? Hired help from the outside? Or an accomplice? She had addressed him as 'sir' and not 'master', which was a possible sign of freedom. Alder put those thoughts to rest quickly.
"She's like you, sweetheart," he said. His eyes were back on her, revelling in her curiosity. "Just not lucky enough to be sold yet."
Genevieve's hopes died again, and she nodded. She took a sip from her glass and found that it was actually a gin and tonic, rather than sparkling water. It tasted as bitter as her false hope.
"Sorry to get your hopes up," he said. "But I'd rather not spend the evening in silence. I like interesting conversation, and I bought you because you're smart enough to hold one. Tell me what you were studying in school."
Did he really care to know? She had no choice but to tell him. "I was in a probability class, Master," she said. "And something called Applied Algebra."
"Sounds difficult," he said. "Tell me about the second one. I think I understand probability."
It was hard to explain, because she didn't really understand it herself. She hadn't finished the class after all. "Well, Master, it's about groups and sets. Like two, four, six, eight, etcetera. That's one set. The rational numbers are a set. Imaginary numbers are a set." She was rambling and had to stop herself. "And it's about manipulating them. And the applications of that manipulation."
"Which are?"
"Endless," she said. "We were studying the RSA encryption, which is all based on group theory. Most complex computer science utilizes it." He stared at her with amusement and desire in his eyes, as well as something teasing that she couldn't place. Then she remembered. "Master," she added.
