Page 44 of Reclaimed

“Hmm. So what do you do for him?”

“Whatever he asks me to.” At least, in theory.

“So what is it that makes you worth all this?” There was a challenge in his eyes that made me feel intensely apprehensive. I didn’t know why he was being so accusatory – he knew none of this had been my choice.

“I don’t know, sir. You’d have to ask my Master.”

When I looked back, he’d returned to the living room, and I breathed a sigh of relief before taking a large glug of wine from my glass.

*

At exactly 7 p.m., I approached Mark to ask where he would like me to serve his supper, and if he would like anything else to drink. He seemed amused by my awkwardness but only asked that I bring his food to the sofa and join him there. After I’d made sure he had everything he needed I seated myself at the opposite end of the sofa and pretended to be interested in the sport that Mark was watching. He said nothing until I rose to take his empty plate.

“That was good. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sir. Can I get you anything else?” I felt like I was just a waitress again. I’d forgotten how degrading even that could feel when you had customers like Mark.

“Coffee, black, one sugar.”

“Also, I… um…”

“Yes?”

“When my Master is here, I usually have to ask before I can have a drink.”

Mark seemed amused. “Tight leash. But if that’s the usual rule then we’d better stick to it, hadn’t we?”

“Yes, sir.” He continued to look at me expectantly – he was going to make me ask the question. Was he enjoying this?

I hoped I was managing to communicate some of the venom I felt through my eyes while still appearing outwardly respectful. “Would it be okay if I had another glass of wine, sir?”

Mark waved his hand in a gesture of disinterested acceptance and went back to watching the TV. I was fast beginning to loathe this man.

I stayed in the kitchen as long as possible, cleaning it from top to bottom, trying to make my wine last the rest of the evening because I wasn’t certain I’d be allowed another. I played some music quietly on Ray’s iPod. I felt more relaxed out of Mark’s presence, and he didn’t seem fussed about me being there. Eventually, I wished him goodnight and went up to my room. It felt odd not to be going to the room I usually shared with Ray, and now that I wasn’t focused on attending to Mark, I realised how fiercely I missed my Master. When I’d been moving a few essentials back to my old room earlier that day, I’d taken one of Ray’s T-shirts, and lying awake, I pressed my face into it and breathed deeply. The smell of him filled me with longing, and I finally allowed myself the time to cry the way I’d needed to all day. Eventually, I heard Mark come up the stairs to bed, and once I’d allowed enough time for him to fall asleep, I crept back downstairs. I’d been trying to sleep for hours, but my mind was still consumed by my desire to have Ray back, my concerns about Mark and my questions about where Ray had gone.

I made myself some hot milk and started to lay things out in the kitchen ready for the morning. I thought I’d been quiet, but it wasn’t long before Mark ventured down to see what I was up to.

“I’m sorry, sir, did I disturb you?” I felt self-conscious in my nightdress and wished Ray had left me some proper pyjamas instead.

“No. Just checking. Heard you come down. Can’t sleep?”

I shook my head. I knew he could see that I’d been crying, but he didn’t say anything.

“I don’t sleep well either. What are you drinking?”

“It’s just hot milk, sir.”

He reached for my mug. I passed it to him, and he sniffed it to check.

“A little whisky in there would help. Here, I’m sure he’s got some up here.” He went immediately to the alcohol cupboard and started rummaging. Of course, he must have been here before. He poured a generous glug of whisky into my cup and handed it back to me with a conspiratorial look on his face.

“I won’t tell, if you don’t.”

“Thank you, sir.” He took my hand, and I fought the urge to wrench it from his grip, but he seemed kinder than he had earlier. He led me into the living room and sat beside me on the sofa while I drank. His proximity made me nervous, and I jumped when I felt his fingers playing with the strap of my nightdress. Ray had promised…

“Shhhh. It’s alright.” I was certain he was going to try something, but he didn’t. He simply continued to run his fingertips over my shoulders and along my neck. It felt uncomfortably intimate, but Ray had only said that sex was forbidden, and so I had to allow it.

“He buys your clothes too?”

---