Submision (Blogophilia 19.5)

She felt dirty when the call came. Like a stain on the carpet that wouldn’t clean up.  And it was his fault.

A sack of potatoes looked back from the mirror while she thought this. She never had been very pretty, and she certainly wasn’t pretty now. Drooping breasts against a beach ball stomach. She took a slug from the pint and the tears came. Cheap booze is a false economy. She had read that somewhere.

The voice began its litany: “It’s time. Kill him and kill me. It is the only way to end it.”  Maybe another drink would help. No. The fever kept rising as she applied her makeup.  

She selected the silver corset, rigged it could be tightened without help. The carbon colored stockings, held  with silk garters, were a garden design and didn’t stand out. A maroon chambray top, long black skirt and simple three inch black pumps rounded it out.  She put on a couple of bracelets and a spray of Obsession.  Before she put on the top, she tucked the Taurus .380 into the holster under her right breast.   She picked up a cigarette and lit it.

Where did he come from?  There were always strange men coming in and out of the house when she was little.  But HE was so much different.   Leather and powder rose along his well trimmed hair. The scent equaled happiness. He always seemed to have truffles and bear hugs.  The scratchiness of his beard seemed to stand out.   There would be talk and games, and then he and Mom would disappear. When they came back Mom would smell like him and she would be smiling. Cobalt bruises would peek out from under her skirts, but she never would say where they came from.

Mom asked him to watch her when she was out. Not that much she could remember. There was a bottle of liquor and he poured her some. The gold liquid tasted hot down her throat as she drank The scent became more intense as her mind became fuzzy. She tried to block it out.“Ride That Pony” was playing on the radio. Pain was replaced by a tickling sensation. He moved her small body as he saw fit. She was on top of him when he asked if she liked it. She really wasn’t sure. He became angry and slapped her. The emotional wall came down and she shut down.  

The next day had no pain. She followed his instructions in silence and he fed her more liquor.  There were oils and lotions that felt wonderful against their skin.Silk ribbons and a satin blindfold surrounded her.  Mom came home and found them. There was screaming, but she couldn’t remember who was doing it. He left without saying a word and Mom just stared.  She wasn’t sure if Mom was angry at her or not.  Nothing more was ever said of it.  

Like a mosquitoes to light, they always were together.   This was the only one that paid attention.  As she grew up, he would buy her pretty things and she would make him happy.  But, he changed over time and became mean.   He would shove and hit. He introduced the hardware and she became his slave. Submission was life. Anything else would be risking death.

Sometimes he would go too far. Their last encounter ended with four days in the hospital and fending off the police. There was nothing left to lose. The last of her money paid for the bus ticket here. It took time, but she found a job, and apartment and a life. It wasn’t going to happen again.  He wasn’t going to ruin it.  She had waited for this day.  A lustful feeling came over her and she shuddered a bit. 

The phone rang. The voice came out like honey and ash. The switch in her mind turned.He was Master.  Teacher. God.

“I need you.” The voice said. “You are to follow instructions exactly.  There will be consequences if you don’t.”

She sat in silence.

“Leave now.   There is a coffee shop on Ponce, just past Glen Iris. Go to the second table on the left and wait.  Your drink will be waiting for you.”

The phone clicked off and she mechanically picked up her purse. The place was just a few blocks away.  The art deco image of the building’s front door rose and fell in her vision and she was on the street. Horns were blaring, laughing at her.  They sensed her humiliation and were announcing it to the world. A little voice said she could turn back, which was immediately drowned out by the others demanding revenge in rhythm to the clicking of her heels. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.

She came up on the light across from the diner and crossed over. She hesitated. The small voice was still trying to turn her around. Checking the reflection in the mirror, the image of a prison inmate stared back. It was hoping for release. The big voices won. It was going to end way or another.  

She saw the cup of coffee steaming on the table and sat down. He had been there. Leather and powder filled the room.  A small light blinked in her peripheral vision.  She picked up the coffee and pulled out the note.  “I’m in the men’s room. Bring the cup.”

Looking around, she realized she was the only one in the room. The restrooms were in the far corner.  She stepped across and pushed the door back.  It was a standard room with an oversize stall.  It didn’t appear anyone was there. The stall door opened and he stepped out.

“You left.  I didn’t say you could leave. “   

The form was greyer than the last time.  He had on a simple black t-shirt and pull up shorts. She knew the leather panties were under that. The silk blindfold and handcuffs had been set on the commode. Her head felt like it was going to explode.The voice in her head kept saying now, but she held her tongue.  

“It didn’t matter I went too far.You are a slave and no account.No one would have missed you had you died. You know that. And like all the disobedient, you must be punished. Get on your knees and put the cup on the floor.”

She did as she was told. She knew the next command, but waited for him to say it.

“Unbutton the blouse.”

Slowly, she reached for the bottom button.  He taught her that curtains were to rise, not fall.  As she came up to the bottom of her rib cage, she touched the holster.  She was careful not to show it as she revealed the corset to him.  

Suddenly, he slapped her.  

“Too fast. “ He picked up the coffee cup and poured the contents on her head.  The humiliation was returning. And so were the voices. Kill him.  Kill him.

“Stand up.”

She did. Smiling, he undid the skirt and it fell like a puddle at her feet.  He began to kiss the dripping coffee off her nose and chin, nibbling as he went along. Stepping behind her, he commanded.

“Good. Kneel and take your communion"

She knelt and waited.  The blindfold came over her head. She could feel the breeze as he took off his clothes.  Their breathing quickened. As usual, he didn’t use the handcuffs right away.  She heard them as they were hooked through a hasp he and welded to the stall.  When they finished with the opening, she would be hooked up.  Not before.   

She felt him before her, but she waited.  

“Take it.”

Reaching out she felt his hips and very gently pulled him closer.  The scent of powder was strong as she began to work.  He began to move in rhythm to her actions and soon his time came.  As he began to rise, she reached under her breast and pulled the Taurus out.  Pressing it hard under him she pulled the trigger.   A burst of applause came from inside her head.  

The prisoner was free.