Page 16 of Fear and Desire

“Yes, sir. Kind of fitting, considering what’s happened to us, don’t you think?”

“Claire–” he broke off, not sure what to say.

She didn’t reply.

He stood up abruptly. “Thank you,” he said, and left.

Claire:

The door closed and Claire started to tremble.What the hell had she been thinking?Those words, spoken to anyone else in this place, would have earned a punishment, probably meted out on her hands. She shuddered. But Master 2—there was something different about him.

She’d been a psychologist in private practice until she’d burned out and taken a job waiting tables while she decided what to do with her life. It was while she was there that she’d been snatched. In her profession, she’d spent years trying to help people understand their own internal struggles, and Master 2 was a bottled-up mixture of contradictions that were as clear as a neon sign over his head.

He never relished the humiliations the other masters dished out daily. More than once, she had caught his narrowed eyes and clenched jaw as he observed a scene, or a punishment, or even a cruel word. Yesterday, he’d given Staci a cool enema, instead of the ice-cold one that she’d been sentenced to get.

That was probably why she’d blurted out what she had. She didn’t believe she’d be punished for what she said to him, as long as she didn’t question his authority. But if he hated what he saw and did, why didn’t he put a stop to it?

They’d talked briefly in between pieces of music. His mother had played daily while he was growing up in Gayama, Puerto Rico. He spoke wistfully of the park in the middle of town dotted with mangrove trees, whose green canopies spread out to block the scorching sun. He told her of the throngs of tourists who made every resident long for the summer heat that would drive them temporarily away. And he talked about the glistening, dancing ocean waves that were so enticing one moment, which could rise into dark, greenish-brown and angry hurricane waves the next.

The tenderness in his voice when he spoke of his family contrasted sharply with the reality that he kidnapped women and sold them as sex slaves. Claire wasn’t unfamiliar with the concept of psychopaths who loved their families, but there was a difference in him, and she couldn’t put a finger on it. Yet.

She didn’t want to leave the little room that had become a sanctuary these last few months. Just outside the door was evil. In here was just a small sliver of serenity, something she wasn’t sure she’d ever have again.

She had time to play one more piece, and she was going to grab every moment she could. She placed her fingers on the keys and let the music push back her pain for a few more minutes.

Laura:

The piano had ceased by the time Master 2 returned. By now, Laura had stopped crying and struggling, and was lost somewhere in a world of pain. He cleared his throat, and she opened her eyes.

“I can sing. Please…”

He smiled. “Now, if you’d just said that earlier, I wouldn’t have trussed you up like this.” He moved behind her, one hand holding her cuffed hands high, giving her nipples relief at last. His other hand moved again between her folds, seeking, finding, and worrying her clit.

“Here’s a little reward for cooperating.”

The pain suddenly transformed into something else—something where everything was more intense. She gasped in surprise as pleasure sprang out of nowhere, rocketing upwards and carrying her over the edge of a climax. Twin explosions of pain burst from her nipples like Fourth of July sparklers. The ache in her nipples eased as she floated down. The clamps were gone. Master 2 had an arm wrapped around her, holding her steady, because her knees had abdicated their responsibility to keep her upright. He unclipped her arms and brought them slowly down as she groaned in pain, and then lowered her to the floor.

The rest of the afternoon and evening were a blur as she retreated inside her head, trying to cope with the overload. She went where she was ordered to go; she ate her dinner—the same stew—in silence at the table. When the women returned to the cell to sit on the side of the bed for thirty minutes at attention, she welcomed the respite and retreated even further. When they were given permission to release, and allowed to talk, she curled up on her side and faced away from the others. They were finally allowed to use the bathroom again, and Claire had to prod her to get up to take her turn for the last time before they were all locked to the beds for the night. Her exhaustion was a blessing, and she fell asleep immediately.

11

Laura:

Despairsettledinlikea dark fog the next morning. Claire held her hand during the run, forcing her to keep up and encouraging her as she faltered. Every joint ached as she attempted to follow the exercises, and as she settled into a squat, prepared to hold on for dear life, Master 3 appeared with the tack mat. With an anticipatory gleam in his eye, he placed it right where she would fall, eventually. She hated him. She hated them all.

Rebellion bubble up as she struggled to remain motionless in the warmth of the early morning sun. It had taken just one day to understand that she preferred the times when things were donetoher, when ropes held her unmoving. When she had to summon the physical or mental strength to hold still, she was taking part in her own training. It wasn’t a voluntary participation; she was doing it to avoid punishment, learning to balance the risks of disobedience against the momentary pleasure of exercising free will. But getting her used to being obedient without restraints wasexactlyhow they would break her down and make her the slave they expected.

Yesterday, she declared she’d never give in, and didn’t understand why Claire had looked at her with sad eyes. Today—little more than twenty-four hours later––she understood Claire was right. Salty tears ran down her face as she struggled to stay still.

She couldn’t—wouldn’t—accept that her future lay as a sex slave, that any future she had, any chance of getting married, having children, and growing old with someone she loved, was gone. Her family would never know what happened to her. She knew Dan would look, if he could, but by then she’d be in another part of the world, too far away to be found, too broken to ever have her life back.

The minutes passed and the sun grew hotter as she silently cried. Eventually, the tears dried up. There would be more later, she was certain, but for now she was empty.

Feet crunched on gravel in front of her. She blinked against the bright sun as a new man walked into the corral, his back to the women, talking to Master 3. She stared at him. He looked familiar. But that was absurd. She willed him to turn around, and finally he did, his eyes focused somewhere above and behind the women. Then he finished the turn and headed back inside.

“Oh my God,” she whispered.

“Shhh!”