Page 2 of Elicit (Decadence After Dark)

His lips curl into a cruel smile. I’ve only ever seen half his face because of the mask he always wears, reminiscent of the Phantom of the Opera.

“Such an obedient pet.” He tosses me away like the nobody I am. The nothing I mean to him.

“Go to bed,” he orders, and I instantly move despite the protest of my aching body and weak limbs. I crawl across the room—never, ever walk—to the cage in the corner. I know better. I know the consequences of disobedience. I scurry inside, cold and wet, with come leaking down the inside of my thighs. Dirty is just how he likes me. Master slams the door closed and locks it behind me. I look up at him, like a pathetic, trapped animal.

He knows that’s exactly what I am, too. That smug thought reflects in his empty, hazel eyes. I’m his property, his pet.

“Lie down.”

I do as I’m told, curling into the fetal position. I don’t have much room. This four foot-by-four foot metal square is where I live.

I’m nearly five-foot-eight.

“Good girl.” The arrogance in his tone is disgusting. I don’t show my disdain. Just fake forlorn with the pitiful part I play. Is it still a part? Or is it who I’ve become? That line has blurred in recent months.

I watch as my Master saunters out of the room. Alone again, I cry my desolate tears inside. I’ve learned my lesson. No sadness or fight or voice. My liberties have been stolen away. I curl tighter on the thin scratchy blanket, struggling to get warm. It’s always cold. I’m always naked. Always hungry. Always desperate. You have no idea what I had to do to get this small, everyday item most people take for granted.

He’s a monster.

I don’t know how long he’s owned me, but it feels like a lifetime. I can’t even remember how I got here. I just woke up one day, shortly after I turned sixteen, in this very spot. In my frilly pajamas, still an innocent girl.

I’m not innocent anymore. He saw to that. The first day stripping my dignity away as he made me shed my clothes. I cried, I fought, I screamed, but ultimately, he won. Overpowering me in both body and mind.

He punishes me severely if I disobey. Verbally, physically, sexually. Making it crystal clear who is Master and who is slave in this twisted arrangement.

I’ve been forced to perform numerous sexual acts like a circus freak. With men, with women, with him. I was taught to pleasure but never be pleasured. That is not my purpose. I was forced to submit, to obey, to satisfy however instructed. To absorb the pain, unless it’s pain he wanted to see.

He’s good at pain. At demoralizing. At demeaning.

He thrives on it. Lives for it. I feel his satisfaction after every horrific interaction we have.

I’ll never understand how this became my life. My hell.

I shiver until I fall asleep.

Dreaming of nothing more than a hot shower and a warm bed.

“Wake up.” I startle awake as my Master kicks my cage.

I push myself up to my knees and bow my head, as he’s trained me to do.

He unlocks the door and orders, “Shower. Clean up.” He points at the bathroom, and I quickly crawl out, my knees banging against the scratched hardwood as I rush toward the bathroom. There’s no door and no privacy in this dismal little apartment where I’m kept. I glance back at my Master, waiting for his instruction. Usually, he washes me himself. Or watches me wash. But he just stands next to the cage.

“By yourself. Don’t be long.” Something is different in his tone—a different air—and it makes me wary. Scares me more than his hostile, domineering persona.

I crawl to where he can’t see me before I stand. My lower back and thigh muscles ache as my body elongates. It feels strange to stand at my full height since it happens so infrequently. I quickly turn on the shower as hot as it will go and step under the spray. The warmth is glorious on my cold, prickly skin. I scrub the dry come from my legs along with all the other muck stuck to me. Washing my long, red hair with the crappy shampoo and conditioner, I finger comb my way through the unruly knots. I rinse quickly, relishing every fleeting second of the hot shower. Who knows when he’ll allow me another one.

I wring my hair of moisture prior to stepping out of the tub, wanting to extract every single drop. I’m afforded no towels, forced to air dry in the chilly apartment.

I crawl out of the bathroom with beads of water damp on my skin.

Master is sitting on the edge of the bed. His head down, elbows resting on his parted knees. I’ve never seen him sit in such a susceptible way. He’s always authoritative. Always commanding. Neverhuman.

I come to settle in front of him, awaiting instruction.

“My little pet.” His gruff voice almost sounds melancholy. He grabs my chin and forces my face up. “The most beautiful. The most perfect. My most perfect creation.” Master lightly runs the pad of his thumb across my lower lip. The touch is foreign.

“Tonight is your last lesson.”

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