She walked into the store, and if I could have waved my arms in the air I would have. I watched as she wandered around, touching some things, just glancing at others. She strolled in my direction, and I held my breath as her eyes lit upon me. She smiled softly, and then ran her fingers down my sleeve. Within minutes she had purchased me, and I was on my way home. I wondered who he was, her husband, her boyfriend, just a friend… all I knew for certain was that I now belonged to him. When we arrived home, she tucked me under something else, hiding me from his eyes until she was ready. She handed me to him, and he smiled, then tried me right on. I was a perfect fit. I knew I was where I belonged.
As time passed, I watched as their girls grew up, the boy they took in and made their son wasn’t around as much but I saw the changes in him as well. My lady, and my gentleman had many changes in their lives, and I was so grateful to still be around. My edges frayed, but instead of tearing me into rags, or throwing me out, I spent most of my time in the closet. At least when the youngest daughter wasn’t stealing me to wear… I admit I liked getting out into the light again.
She stopped stealing me from her Dad, and after my seam tore he stopped wearing me as well. No more working in the yard, or the garage. But still they kept me. I watched as he grew older, then got sick. I watched as she worried, and cried. I watched as things got to the point where he wasn’t coming into the room at all anymore, though I could hear his voice if I listened. They no longer slept in the room I could see, though she would come in and get him clothes regularly. If I could have offered my warmth to him I would have, though I was no longer as warm as I once was.
It happened one morning. I heard the sounds of others in the house, and knew he was off to the healing place again. She didn’t come home, not all day, not all night. Others came into the house. They didn’t speak much though, and then they left again. She came home the next morning, with the son, the youngest daughter, and the ex-husband. She was crying. I heard her explaining on the phone. He wouldn’t be coming home again.
It was time. She’d been looking at us all off and on, and it hurt her to see us. I no longer caused her sweet smile, now I was a reason for tears. She and the youngest began pulling us all out of the closet. I was added to a pile to throw into the bin. The youngest run her fingers down my arm, then pulled me, and another one out of the pile putting us to the side. I watched as the eldest, and her youngest, joined my lady as well going through the clothes in the closet, picking what they wanted to keep. The youngest pulled the blue away from me, and handed it to her sister. I saw tears, and a look wanting confirmation that she was getting to keep blue. The youngest held me up, and said “I’ve got the red”, and suddenly I knew. I wasn’t being thrown out, I wasn’t being torn into rags, the youngest was keeping a memory. I was going to a new home.
My left arm has a tear down the lower seam, my wrists are frayed, there’s paint on me in several places, and I’m not nearly as warm as I once was. My lady, and my gentleman have no need of me any longer, but the youngest finds comfort in my arms. So I am home, again.
I know it’s been a long time since I’ve written to you. I’m in my 40’s now. You’d think I’d be able to just get whatever I want for Christmas, go out buy it myself, sweet talk… whoever into buying it for me. Whatever. You… you wouldn’t think that I’d feel the need to write to someone that at my age I shouldn’t even believe in anymore. But Santa I’m really hoping, I’m praying, that they’re wrong, that you do exist, that somehow miracles can happen.
You see Dad’s not doing well,and I’d kinda like to do something about that, you know? I can’t stand that he isn’t doing well. And I kinda need your help. He can’t breathe well, and he’s on oxygen, and uh, and I’m terrified, I don’t really wanna lose my Dad, you know. So if you can maybe think up something, some way, some manner of making it all better. I’d really appreciate it. And you know, if Dad gets better then Mom’s stress will go down and maybe she’ll be healthier too. And ya I’m just kinda terrified right now, I’m afraid of losing my parents. One to lungs that don’t wanna work, one to stress so high that she’s pretty much bursting into tears regularly.
Santa I’m scared, and inside of me is that 5 year old girl. The one who knew all she needed to do was write to Santa, who rarely ever asked you for anything. The one who said “hey my sister would really like…”, the one who always sent you Merry Christmas Santa, and have a safe flight.
And I don’t know who else to ask. Because everybody prays to God, and everybody’s asking him for so much. And I don’t think, I don’t even know if he hears me. But you always used to.
You are always there. In my dreams I mean. Not a night goes by without you, your touch, your presence, your scent, your taste. In the daylight I am who you always said I was; strong, independent, willful, in charge of myself, and those around me. But the moment the door closes behind me, the outside world can no longer look in, and I am yours. Your love, your kitten, your lady, your slut. I am nothing more, but definitely nothing less. You made me be so much more than I was, and being apart is going to be the end of me.
You were there again last night. I dreamt that I opened the front door and you were there. Arms open, smiling. Without thought as to who might see I dropped to my knees; head up, eyes down, knees apart. The only word spoken “Sir”. Though I could not see it your smile grew. You stepped inside, crouched down, your fingertips trailed softly down my cheek, across my lips, a light pressure and my mouth was open, your finger inside. A small taste, just the beginning I hoped. I sucked gently on your digit, imagining that it was something more. In my distraction I did not see the look on your face. But I heard you growl. My eyes shot up, locked on yours, and were trapped. The pure lust radiating from your eyes froze me. My mouth, my tongue still playing with your finger as if I could not bear to stop.
I remember the effect it had on you when you were here, Sir. In my dream it was no different. You did not, would not, remove your hand. Your free hand reached out to my hair and, grasping it firmly, pulled me to my feet. I don’t recall closing the door, or seeing you do so but we must have because the next moment my legs were wrapped around your waist, my skirt over my hips, my back against the door, and your cock deep inside of me. I could feel your hand between our bodies as you tore open my blouse, my bra shoved out of the way as you leaned back to look at me. You saw my new tattoo, and drove deeper into me still. I could not speak, could barely breathe, capable only of soft moans, as you growled against my neck. With every thrust my mouth played accompaniment moaning softly around your finger, writhing against you.
That I had been about to leave, that I would be late for work, forgotten. That a world existed outside the door you were fucking me against, forgotten. All that existed, all that mattered was your body and mine, together. I felt your mouth on my neck, biting, sucking, licking, driving me further into madness. You began to move faster, thrust harder, and I could not contain my gasp. Your finger released you removed it from my mouth, a quiet whimper of need escaping me. The door was gone; we were no longer standing against it. My back was on the stairs, with a growl you put my hands on the railings, I held tight as your hands grabbed my hips, the pressure inside of me building to nearly unbearable levels. I wanted to cum, I needed to. But I fought against it. You had yet to give me permission and I would not disappoint my Sir. You felt my shiver as I fought it. I felt your smile against my breast. You began to suckle, and bite my nipple. You slowed down your thrusts and with every thrust you sucked, hard. With every withdraw you bit. One hand released my hip and reached between us. You nearly broke my control as your fingers played with my clit, rubbing it in time each time you rammed into me. Your mouth left my breast and returned to my neck, your fingers moving faster, your hips slamming into mine. I could feel how hard you were, how close to cumming, but still I fought it.
Finally, against my neck, at the pulse point, you spoke. “Who am I?”
“Sir.” Was my response. I felt the smile.
“Who do you belong to?” Again tightly to my neck, more growl than words.
“Only you Sir.” It was so hard to speak but I somehow managed to gasp out the words.
“Cum.” A low growl, tight into my throat, a hard bite immediately after. Enough of a shock to release my control. I felt my pussy contract around you, with the first grasp I felt you explode inside of me, your cock throbbing, pulsing inside of me.
I woke, so close to cumming it was painful. But I remembered your orders Sir. No cumming without you, no cumming until we are together again. I followed orders, I have since you’ve been gone. I am a good girl, Sir. Your good girl.
The dreams are every night. I spend the days fidgety, and tense. I know you can’t answer my question, but I do wish I knew when we’ll be together again. Our friends, the ones that know how we live, tell me that you never meant for me to wait this long. They tell me you would still see me as your good girl even if I permitted myself some release once in a while. They remind me you were only going to be gone a week, two tops. It was never meant to be so long. We’ve never been apart this long Sir. I looked at the calendar and it’s been nearly a year. A year tomorrow to be exact. They still haven’t found your boat.
I bought a small boat yesterday. If they can’t find you maybe I can. We’ll be together soon, Sir. I promise.
I enjoy peace and quiet, usually. But today I find it grates. In a house full of people I should be hearing something. Well, other than just the sound of pages turning. I blame Jes. She took my journal the other night. She made copies of it and handed it out to the family as they arrived. *sigh* She’s read it already but has yet to say a word to me since she got home.
I was first here. I came earlier than usual. I wanted a chance to talk to her, warn her that I had things to discuss tonight. I got the hand. She’s said absolutely nothing to me. I guess I know how this is going to go. Hopefully I won’t lose everyone, but I’m guessing my time as family is at an end.
“Other room please. We need a few minutes to discuss this.” Raven didn’t even look at me as she spoke. I left the room, into the kitchen with me. I might as well have a drink while they discuss my fate.
There’s an iPod sitting on the table. I peek back into the living room only to have one of my sisters catch me. I sit down at the table, a glass of whiskey in front of me. I’m fidgety, and I catch myself playing with the unfamiliar iPod. I can hear them talking quietly but I can’t make out the words. I consider leaving, after all it’s what I figure is going to happen anyway. So why wait? I get up and grab my purse, slip quietly out the door to my car. I go to put the key in the ignition and realize I’m still holding the iPod. *sigh* I’ll have to go back inside, I can’t take it with me. I might be a killer but I’m no thief. I reach into my glove box instead and pull out my stereo cord. I plug in the iPod and turn on the engine so I can have a listen.
“Eternity gazed back at me. Like an ocean’s horizon at midnight. Faintest of whispers softly caress my ears and I wonder if it is a nightmare or a dream.” words & music by Jason Sinner
I hear the words, listen to the song, and then play it again. I don’t recognize the man’s voice so why does it sound like he’s in my head? I turn off my car, and head back inside. Sitting out there where someone could see me is making me tense.
My timing is… good I suppose. I hear Gwen sending someone in to get me. Monster comes in. My Mikey, my Monster, if I lose everyone else I will still have him. He’ll still have them as well though. I may have brought him into the family but he is family. He smiles sadly at me, hugs me, and we walk into the room together holding hands. Just like whenever he was in trouble with our folks. We stand together, his arm around me. It takes me a moment but I raise my eyes to meet those of the ones I love. I look from one face to the next until I stop on an unfamiliar pair of eyes. This must be Methial. Jes told me about him, he was brought in while I was missing. I feel a shiver crawl down my back, his eyes are steady on mine and I can’t seem to look away. He smiles at me, nods his head as if in greeting, and that breaks the spell. I can’t make myself continue, my eyes drop, my gaze upon the carpet as I await their condemnation.
Jes and Gwen look at each other. I don’t have to see it to know they are having a silent debate about who’s going to speak. We’ve done this before, only it was between the three of us. I hear a soft sigh, Jes it is then. “When were you going to tell us? Or were you even going to?”
My eyes snap up to meet hers. “Of course I was going to tell you! That’s why I came early tonight!” I step away from the safety of my brother’s arms. “Had you left it alone Jes, I would have told everyone tonight. It’s why I asked for all of the family to be present. My journal is with me, in my purse. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to say it all, I was absolutely certain I’d fail. So I brought it with me. It says all the words I didn’t believe I’d be able to.” I look around and I see distress on the faces I love so much. I’m broadcasting. “Just wait a sec, please.” I walk outside, breathe deeply, I need control. I sit down on the steps, close my eyes and focus on my walls. Brick by brick they go back up.
I feel a jacket placed around my shoulders and I turn to look. It’s Methial. My look is questioning, he simply shrugs and sits beside me. “Penny for your thoughts.” He looks at me briefly before looking ahead again.
Stunned does not begin to describe my reaction to his comment. “A penny for my thoughts? Really?” I look at him and see a small smile before he looks away again. “Ok, fine. My thoughts… my thoughts are somewhat scattered right now. One thought, why are you here instead of one of my sisters? But then I realize it’s because they’re all getting themselves under control and that I had little to no effect on you. Another thought, why did I have no effect on you? Next thought, is there even any point to me going back inside or should I simply get in my car and go home? Also, why am I spilling all my thoughts to you, and why aren’t you annoyed with my ranting yet?” He smiles at me again, stands up, and offers me his hand. Before I realize what I’m doing my hand is in his and we’re walking back into the house.
He guides me over to the couch where Mikey is sitting. After I sit down he sits beside me, a little closer than I should be comfortable with but I can’t seem to bring myself to object. Gwen watches with a smirk on her lips. Jes walks in from the kitchen and hands me a glass, a light sip tells me there’s whiskey in my soda. No surprise there, she’s known me most of our lives after all. I take a larger sip and wait.
“Ok so we’ve decided it’s time to come clean with you.” Not what I was expecting. Over the course of the next several hours my family told me what they had been hiding from me. For years. It turns out my family is full of killers. Not just in defense but flat out, cold blooded killers. I mean, yes I knew my Mikey was a monster, and that my sisters and brothers all had particular skills. I suppose it hadn’t occurred to me what purpose they had set those skills to. We all have jobs of sorts. When our folks passed away Mikey and I came into some money, I’ve handled my portion pretty well and haven’t had to have a 9 to 5 job in ages. Mikey drives a truck, a big ass truck. I suppose I now know the reason he loves the open road so much. The rest well… let’s just say they have day jobs and then they have jobs that prefer the night. But those are their stories to share, not mine.
I don’t remember leaving, how in hell did I get home? Mikey had to leave early, he had a run. So I know he didn’t bring me home. How much did I drink while they told me what I’d been too dumb to see? Jes tried to make it seem like they were just that good at hiding it but when I look back they really weren’t. I was just that good at being oblivious. Oh god, it’s not even 8 o’clock in the morning and I already want a drink. I killed, I won’t deny it, but after months in that place one could argue I’d snapped. My sisters, my brothers, they all told me horrible things. The only one that said nothing was Methial. He sat there beside me the entire time, his hand on my back. I vaguely recall leaning on him after a few drinks. Oh god, I need to call Jes. She’ll tell me it was all just stories. A prank. I need my phone, maybe it’s in the kitchen?
I walk into the kitchen and notice an unfamiliar jacket on the back of one of the chairs. I thought I gave it back to Methial when we went inside. I glance around and notice the back door is open. Given my recent paranoia I know I didn’t leave it open. I look out onto the deck, he’s sitting on the steps smoking a cigarette. The smoke curls around his head, almost a caress, before it drifts away. There’s a mug beside him and only now do I realize that I smell coffee. I guess I know how I got home. Dear god, please tell me I didn’t do anything stupid last night. Well stupider.
“He can’t help you, you know.” He didn’t even acknowledge my presence until he spoke. He’s still looking into the trees. And what the fuck did he mean by that? “God is what I mean. He can’t help you. Well he could, but he won’t.” He gets up, sticks his cigarette into the pot of dirt beside him, picks up his mug, and comes back inside. Without more than a smirk in my direction he drains his cup, grabs his jacket, and heads for the front door. “I’ll see you later Dee. We have a few things to discuss.” After the door closes I can move again, I run after him, flinging the door wide, but he’s gone. Just gone. No motor, and it’s a long driveway so it’s not as if he could already have driven out of sight. There’s a wide area around the house before the trees take over and I don’t see him anywhere.
Back into the house, Jes’s voicemail picking up before I even realize I have my phone in hand. “Jes, you need to call me. Like now. Or ten minutes ago. Or come over. Who the hell is this guy? I need more answers from you. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to tell me that yesterday was a bad dream? Or a prank? Just call me, please.”
All I got was a text. “He’ll explain.” Like that helps. And why wouldn’t she call instead? I’m officially creeped out. Raven called me. She said she was sorry that she’d lied to me about what she was doing. She also apologized for telling me the truth. I can’t fault her for that. After I got off the phone with her though I realized I didn’t want to talk to any of the family. So maybe it’s better that Jes didn’t call. I need a shower… or maybe a nice long bath instead.
After I locked everything up, I soaked in the tub for a couple of hours. Bubble baths are my weakness. Every little sound was making me jumpy but I was bound and determined to enjoy my bath. Afterwards I wander the house to make certain everything was still locked up tight. This has become a ritual the last few nights. Ok time for sleep. I turn on my bedside lamp, slip under the covers, and turn over. Right into Methial.
Ok my throat hurts, I’m not sure how long, or how loud I was screaming. My back hurts which I guess is what happens when you try to shove yourself through the corner. He’s bleeding. Oh my god he’s bleeding! What the fuck did I do? “Methial?” Ok whispering isn’t helpful. Did I even make a sound? He’s looking at me. Ok I couldn’t have hurt him too bad, he’s smiling. He’s smiling and walking towards me. He’s not walking, he’s stalking, and that smile scares me.
From the top of my head to the very tips of my toes I do not believe there is a single spot on my body that is not complaining. I wish I could say it was a good pain that I’d had an exceptional workout, or even better absolutely mind blowing sex. God that would be nice. But no, it’s his fault I feel this way but nothing nearly so pleasant. When I got home from work on Friday I had stopped to pick us up our usual. We normally have pizza, a couple of ice cold beers, and watch a movie or two before we fuck the night away. Our version of celebrating the week’s end. He arrived before me which, although unusual, wasn’t a big deal. He’s had a key to my place for six months now after all. He seemed a little out of sorts but it had been a hell of a week so I thought nothing of it. We ate pizza, drank beer, watched the third of a movie, and out of nowhere his fist connected with the side of my head. Next thing I knew I woke up here.
I think that was five or six days ago. It might be longer. He hits me so hard I pass out and I have no idea how long until I wake again. Ignoring that I still have no idea what the fuck happened, or why he’s doing this, I can’t figure out why I’m tied to a bed of all things. It’s even comfortable sort of. It’s hard for anything to be comfortable when you’re covered with bruises, cuts, and even a couple of broken bones (I think a rib, and a bone in my leg but I can’t be sure about any others). And although at some point he stripped me, he seems to be putting a blanket on me as if to let me freeze would be unacceptable. When he comes into the room he puts a straw into my mouth, lets me drink some water. But there has been nothing to eat. As I’m still breathing I can’t help but think he’s doing something when I pass out to keep me alive but why?
Ok what do I absolutely know? He’s nuts. Ok that’s not going to help. I did notice that the leg that seems to be broken is also the one tied to the least stable of the posts. I think that’s why he broke the bone. I can’t pull on the post without a lot of pain. Last time it felt as if my leg would tear in two if I kept it up. And that’s when he broke my rib. He was so angry that he just kept hitting me. It doesn’t matter though, this is only going to work one of three ways. One, I manage to get free and somehow make it somewhere safe. Two, I piss him off badly enough that he totally loses it and beat me until I’m dead. Or three, and this is the one that truly terrifies me, I stay like this for god knows how long until he tires of his games and kills me. I’m not overly fond of options two and three. I’ll try my arms again, getting a leg free won’t do me much good if it’s the only part of me not tied down.
Fuck me. I wonder how long I was out this time? Ok try to remember what happened. I got my arm free! Just in time for him to walk in. Oh shit. Yup, both arms look shattered. How am I even awake let alone thinking? I should be screaming in pain. I wonder what he’s been putting in the water. I’m pretty fucked now. I can’t lift my head high enough to see my legs but I’ll guess they’re both shattered too. I’m going nowhere. Even if I somehow managed to get free he’d just follow the trail of blood until he found me passed out from the pain. He never speaks. I never have the energy to. But if I’m going to die I’d at least like to know why. I hear him coming. This is probably going to hurt.
The door opens, and he enters the room. He smiles at her, and offers her the straw. She turns her head. He forces the straw between her lips and she does nothing. “Drink” She shakes her head at him. “You need to drink or you’ll feel all of this. Now be a good little girl and do as you’re told.” He doesn’t appreciate the glare he’s receiving and he slaps her, hard. “Drink”
“Fuck off.” She can barely speak but he knows what she said.
He slaps her again. “Watch your mouth!”
“I want to know why I’m here. Why are you fucking torturing me?” Her voice doesn’t change, he damaged her vocal cords at some point, he was afraid she might scream.
“Because you’re a fucking whore that’s why! I found your phone with those messages! To some guy named Brad. You’re MY girlfriend and you’re talking about fucking him! How you can’t wait to have him….” He turns away for a moment, shaking uncontrollably.
Brad…. Brad, this is about my ex boyfriend from five years ago Brad! It hadn’t occurred to her to clear an old phone, she’d chucked it in a drawer and forgotten about it. She starts to giggle, she can’t help it, and she can’t stop it. Even when his fist connects with her cheek she giggles through the pain. “Did you even look at the dates dipshit?” It’s the last she manages to get out before he connects with her mouth, shattering her teeth. She can’t move so she chokes to death on the pieces that fall into her throat. She’s dead a good half hour before he stops hitting her.