Isla answered. “There were only two things he wanted from us; he wanted sex, and he wanted us to look pretty. He took us places, dressed us up, and he didn’t hit us. He let us do whatever we wanted in our free time as long as we were ready to serve him when he wanted.”
Bea nodded. “And his dick was really small, so that made it easy to take.”
“He wasn’t really an asshole. He was just a rich, lonely guy who wanted some pretty girls. That’s all.”
“But he still didn’t give you any choice on the matter, did he,” Becca spoke up. “It was still against your consent. Just because the abuse wasn’t as bad as your other experiences doesn’t mean it wasn’t abuse.”
“You keep saying that,” Bea snapped. “Like you know what the hell it’s like!” She threw herself off the couch she was sitting on, and her sister slunk back into the couch like she was afraid.
“You act like you know what it’s like to be beaten until you bleed, like you’ve seen someone tie up your sister and rape her until she blacks out and you don’t know if she’s alive! You’ve never been in so much pain you wish you were dead! You’ve never been shared by fifteen men while someone holds a knife to your sister’s throat! Compared to the others, Master Korvak was amazing! And yeah, maybe we didn’t want to have sex with him, but I would never call it abuse! Not when I know what abuse really is!”
Becca sat there with her hands crossed in her lap, one long leg thrown over the other, completely at ease, watching Bea scream herself out. Sarah stared at her hands, clenching them so tight her knuckles went white. Isla was pressed against the couch, her hands covering her face.
It struck me that I used to do that. I would cower and cover my face when someone surprised me, duck, or start crying randomly when someone shouted. It was a reflex I had no control over. But right now, with Bea shouting and crying and throwing her arms around in fury, the only thing I could feel were the cuffs and the belt that Reuben Weston had locked around my body this morning, a tender look of pride in his eyes as he’d done so.
I snuck behind Bea and sat beside Isla, pulling her hands away from her face and rubbing her back. She hugged me and tried not to cry. “Bea, stop,” she whimpered, too quietly for Bea to hear.
Bea finally stopped screaming, and stood in front of Becca, her limbs shaking, her eyes wide open, tears streaming down her face.
Becca took a deep breath, stood, and reached around to the side of her long black lace skirt, unhooking it and letting it fall to the floor. Underneath she wore a pair of spandex shorts that hugged her toned thighs. There was a large scar in the middle of her thigh that looked like animal claws had torn through her leg. It extended down to right above her knee.
Becca kept her eyes locked on Bea while she unbuttoned her high-collared black blouse. Finally she stood in just her bra, shorts, and leather boots. Our eyes were all glued to the deep red gash of a scar that started under her collarbone and went all the way down her stomach, ending just above her hip.
It was hard to remember that the strong, kind woman in front of me had once been a terrified, traumatized victim like these girls.
Like me.
Bea was silent.
“Sweet girl. I loved my master, too.
“I was nine when I was kidnapped, eleven when I was sold. Virgins go for a lot more, since they’re one-time use. Children for even more. The rich, lonely old man who raped me let his friends have me when he was done. Then he sent me off for training, and I came back to him a year later, ready and capable. So yes, I have been forced to service an incomprehensible number of men until I couldn’t feel my body. Until my body wasn’t mine anymore. Until the idea of “me” ceased to exist completely.
“I ran away after a particularly horrendous night and made it to the train station. I got on the train but was picked up at the next stop by a man who claimed he would help me. Instead of bringing me to the police, he took me home and kept me as his pet.
“He was everything to me, because he didn’t rape me. He only gave me pain. He gave me pain I could fight against, and pain I could fall into. He gave me pain whether I was good, or bad. That way I always knew what to expect... pain. And pain was something I could live with. Pain was something I understood.”
Bea’s tears had changed from fury to sorrow. Becca smiled at her and extended her hands to her. Bea accepted the gesture, reaching out with shaking hands.
“There is light at the end of the tunnel. But you must learn to recognize the difference between the light and the darkness, otherwise you will find your way back to the darkness whether you want to be there or not.”
That evening over dinner, despite our playful banter during cooking, I couldn’t eat much. My brain was too busy. I couldn’t stop thinking about what the girls had said about their masters, and how lucky I was to feel so safe with Reuben.
But the thing that struck me more than anything was that moment when the girls freaked out. When Sarah froze and looked at her feet, Isla cowered against the couch, and Bea snapped and screamed. It had stressed me out but... I didn’t react the way I used to. It didn’t send me into a blind panic. Instead, my mind jumped to this morning when Reuben had stroked my hair and kissed my wrists before locking my cuffs.
“Alice, aren’t you hungry?”
“No, Sir.”
“You barely ate today.”
I shrugged. My stomach felt weird. I didn’t want to eat, I wanted to sit in his lap and smell the sweet musky scent of his skin and listen to him breathe.
But I was also pissed off that I was in love with him. Because he was supposed to just fuck me up a few times a week, not make me all emotional and shit. I had enough of that to deal with already.
You will find your way back to the darkness, whether you want to be there or not.
Was there something wrong with me because I preferred the darkness? I preferred the abuse and the bullying?