Very long wait time on this one, apologies.
Combination of car trouble and new computer/art program.
I'll do my best to get the next one out faster.
That being said, this chapter is a bit of a cooldown from the events of the last one.
EDIT:
Added some additional events near the end, which we meant to add but were lost in the notes.
To avoid rereading the whole story, searching the phrase:
"No. I imagine that night will be unforgettable for both of us."
Will take you to the paragraph before the change.
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De-Programmed
Part 8
Part 8
Edwin took a sip from the dark liquid in his mug as he looked over the monitors in his office. She hadn’t moved in hours, though her vitals seemed to be normal, she just had no reason to. While empathy was not his strong suit he had some inkling to the bitter apathy which paralyzes someone. Not that he could conjure the emotions now, nor could he even broach the suffering he had unleashed upon her. A benefit of his medication would be the absence of guilt at least. One day he wouldn’t have to live like this, but today was work.
He couldn’t leave her in a state of passivity, he needed to be active. Taking another large gulp of the steaming bitter beverage he set it down before pulling out a drawer on his desk to retrieve the keys. All of them neatly arrayed in small sealed plastic cubes – labeled with iterative markings as to be understood only by him– as well as the keys’ themselves have markings on them which only he knew, just in case someone got them, primarily the subject he had locked in the basement. Her escape attempt was not something he would allow himself to forget anytime soon. Quickly grasping the set required to enter the basement by pulling up on the key ring he turned back to the monitors for a moment. Aside from just camera feeds or personal information, one of them contained a detailed set of notes.
He wanted to make sure he did this as best he could; thus he acquired as many resources as he could to find what would be best for putting his target in the appropriate mental state for what he needed. Published information on such activities is not exactly mainstream, however it is fairly easy to find when one goes looking. He had worked as best he could with what he could get without setting off any red flags. After all, his current contracted work was a government engineering job with the department of corrections. However there was a lingering seed of doubt, that the information was wrong and he was really making no progress. Of course not being one to leave things to chance he had other plans lined up. The only worry was that his actions may have made his goal permanently unreachable.
He closed the drawer, taking the last gulp of his coffee he stood stretching as he had been monitoring her for the last few hours. Leisure time was over for both of them, it was time for work. He put the pc to sleep and turned off the monitors manually, then pushing in the tray that for his keyboard and mouse the room was reset to the curated state of immaculate stasis. Heading down the hallway towards the basement, all the surfaces coated in nice calming colors, muted to bring peace to a tumultuous existence.
He placed his hand on the doorknob taking a breath, then turning the knob as he exhaled, beginning his day.
*************************************************************************************
For Liana, it was just pain, there was no place to direct her perceptions which did not elicit bristles against her heart or aches across her flesh. Slow, deliberate action was viable but any rapid movement prompted the sensation of searing bolts through her. Focus took transcendental will, thoughts passed through her mind like steaming air. The flashes of thought were disrupted in their infancy with each beat of her heart sending a pulsing ache over her skull. At this point she was approaching a need for another's presence as her own isolation in this torturous purgatory was wearing at what remained of her sanity.
All she could do was feel. The creaking pains of her body.were still numbness compared to the spiritually crushing depths of her mind. She would hate to see her face, all puffed up with red rings around her eyes. Her time was defined by moments of tearless lucidity to be brought low by a wandering subconscious which assailed her with the despair she knew all too well. Now at a point where her natural fear of death was contending with the agony of life. She never knew there were this many flavors of suffering.
The door to the basement jostled as the knob spun. Her reaction of course was to hide, a response she could no longer resist in her diminished state. Flinging herself from the refuge of her cot she clattered to the floor, the agonizing reprisal from her nerves caused her to audibly mewl like the animal she had become. She curled up in the sheet half off the bed as it was tucked securely under the mattress.
No immediate demands were stated as her captor… no, her rapist, took the casual jaunt about the basement. It took so much to merely peek from beneath her covers to see his dark leathery shoes clack about the concrete floor. A chilling sting grasped her chest, the frigid sensation spreading through her limbs as her instincts went haywire. Unable to run clashed with her inability to fight back as her mind endlessly repeated the moments of her defeat over and over. Her shuddering relapse into the shattered recesses of her mind left her adrift in again while she lost track of… just about everything else.
An abyssal spiral of cyclical despair arrested her, only roused from this agonizing hypnosis by the clacking of chair legs outside her cell. Directly next to her bed. There was silence for a moment, her naive desires still somehow wished for time to stop, for the world to end. Anything to escape the continuity of these moments, every second dragging her forward across the scalding surface of emotional tumult remaining in her mind. Despair, anxiety, terror, despondency. A shuddering wreck poorly hidden beneath a common sheet of fabric.
Eventually the moment was fractured as her oppressor conjured speech.
“Get up.”
Again her opposing states locked up the gears of her mind as her consciousness could present no answer to the question of submission or resistance. Her vision started off thousands of yards searching for a response. Eventually however she caught a glimpse of his hand reaching down to the floor next to his chair for a familiar remote. She jolted upright, staggering as her body protested. Her enemy sat in the chair leaning back up as she acquiesced to his demand. Next to him was a small table, the same he had produced several times before. On it was what seemed to be a meal, some kind of sandwich with eggs and cheese on it alongside a single cup.
“You need to eat.” he gestured to the meal alongside him which her eyes darted to momentarily. The complex mechanisms within her mind seizing with anxious indecision. It seemed that her captor didn’t have a few moments to wait for her. He shrugged, leaning down again for the remote he had on the ground. Again it seemed that her instincts acted over her ideals as she frantically lunged to the bars reaching for the food which was set up just barely beyond her arms length.
“There we go.” He leaned back up in his seat “It is necessary for you to partake in at least the bare minimum of self care. Regardless of events that occur around you.” He pushed the table forward slowly as she grasped at the food.
When it came into reach she snatched the comestible from its platter. Immediately pulling it to her face, consuming it with reckless chomps as she began to cry. She didn’t know why, why she persisted with this. It dawned on her suddenly how malnourished she was. It had been over a day since she had food, and she had barely had any water. Her mental desolation had rendered her unable to perceive her physical debility. She turned upon the morsel with the primal intent to satiate the evident cry of her gullet.
Why not just starve instead of prolonging this suffering? Simple answer was he wouldn’t let her. She swallowed what she could, having trouble keeping it down, to which he held out the cup. At first she tried to swat at his gesture, yet her eyes connected with his for a moment instantly smoldering any rebellious nature. His gaze projecting a vacuous chill into her that quashed her resistant spirit. Something he didn’t even seem aware of.
Her clawed hand turned to an upturned palm to request the libation. Which he placed in her hand. The interaction was so alien she couldn’t suppress the guttural tremor down her body. She took a cautious sip of the liquid, finding the cool flavorless drink refreshing as her instincts informed her that she had not had anything to drink in hours. Finally piercing through the emotional turmoil in her mental hierarchy. Her mind now reminding her of her more basic needs she turned back to the remainder of her meal.
He sat there unmoving, attentive, silent. A stoic arbiter of her actions. Upon completion of her meal she set the cup down outside the cell as the room returned to an eerie stillness. She didn’t dare look directly at him again. That hollow sensation he could cast upon her by simply allowing his eyes to lock with hers. She wrapped the twisted sheet around her as best she could. Waiting for something to happen.
He stood, breaking the spell, as he picked up the small table to then stow it away in a corner of the room. Then returned to his seat staring at her for a moment, she pulled the sheet over her, leaning away from him as she did so. She knew that hiding was pointless but it felt good to simply reduce her presence. The brain rewards her for the survival instinct of being less noticeable, less likely to be punished. Of course in this situation it was a meaningless gesture.
“Stand.” his demand struck her, prying her from the critical vortex of meandering thought which was assailing her. Distracting her from the world around. She did comply pulling the sheets as she stood next to the bed wrapped in a robe of protection.
“Drop the sheets on the bed.” This was a fair bit more difficult, but she was not aware of his willingness to produce the rod again at her slightest refusal. Not something she could stand as she was. Tossing the sheets onto the bed she stood shivering in the center of the cell.
“Now I would like you to clean yourself, Use the shower. The clothing is designed for this, no need to undress.” She swallowed, turning with a reluctant flow of jittery movements towards the shower's handle. Turning it slowly as the water started to pour out, she unconsciously recoiled slightly from the splash of water, her body still yearning for the warmth of the sheets, the comfort of the bed. Echoes of aches rippled over her body as she stood, waiting for the water to heat. Usually he did not impose upon such an intimate act as her cleaning herself, however it seemed that such an era of privacy had passed.
“Begin, the water will warm.” His voice betrayed no fury, no depth. She dared not risk the sting of the collar over the chill of the waters. Stepping in with little hesitation as what would be barely chilling waters seemed to be ever more so viscous in their biting cold. She gasped, almost losing her breath while she was shocked out of the lethargic aches. Standing there in a fall of slowly warming water, a rigid statue confused on what to do next.
“Good, now use the soap provided.” Liana hesitantly grasped at the soap, merely holding it in her hand for a moment, looking over it. Washing herself before him, it was more than perverse, degrading wasn’t even enough. The feeling, evasive in definition yet seemingly omnipresent in her consciousness, dominated her. Every action was taken with great difficulty as his presence violated some sacred aspect of this cleansing ritual. Now more than ever before, before he was just a voyeur. Now he.... He was anathema, and he was here.
It didn’t make sense that she was struggling with these emotions again. Had this been the first time she might have understood. The potency of these sensations were so paralyzing she didn’t have time to contemplate much else aside from them. So lost in the aspects of her violation she realized minutes must have passed as she was still simply washing the same areas.
“Continue. I would prefer this not take more time.” Despite the now warm temperature of the water she felt the chills over her spine. Gritting her teeth she attempted a speech.
“I… I don’t.. S-sorry sir..” Fumbling from her mouth as they passed her mind, letting them clatter to the wet concrete below as she could not lift her head up to speak.
“Good. Continue, we have some exercises to go through.” She didn’t want to finish, she didn’t want to experience his plans for the day. Yet she didn’t want to feel the lash of his punishments more. Thus with great consternation she brought focus down upon the task and moved to cleanse herself. Her custom attire was somewhat obtrusive, yet it seemed to be bound tight to her, durable enough to survive the cleansing ritual.
Not wanting to experiment with his patience she finished rather rapidly. Finishing in just a few minutes as he tossed in a pair of towels between the bars.
“How was breakfast?” He sat back down leaning back into the chair.
She was dumbstruck, the sudden mundane interaction ambushed her in a sense that she was stuck processing the tonal shift of the question. She wasn’t even sure she processed the meal in any way that she could properly critique it.
“I uh… I… It was good. Uh… sir.” she struggled to do much more than an evasive mumble. It seemed to be enough for him though, as he nodded. She grabbed one of the towels pulling it up to her chest.
“Do you have any personal preferences in food?”
What was this? Was it a test? Is he planning something? Were there right answers? She clutched the towel close, her grips digging into the absorbent fabric as she contemplated answers. She didn’t really remember what she liked to eat.
“Eggs… eggs are fine. I… I suppose sir.” She turned away from him, wiping the towel over her body trying to cover herself.
“Look at me while we’re talking.” Liana tensed, she didn’t realize it but her breathing was rapid, uneven. She took a moment, trying to pry herself away from looking down, closing her eyes she
“Yes sir.. Sorry.” She continued to dry herself in a clumsy delirium. Still off balance from the fact that it's just a normal conversation.
“Do you like your room? The space you are in?” His monotone was so pallid that she could not gauge his demeanor. She would simply have to guess.
“I… It’s good sir. I am fine…” She couldn’t make him angry, never again. Whatever she saw needed to never appear again. He leaned forward in his chair again, what did it mean? Did she do something wrong? She winced in preparation for some rebuttal.
“Would you have a question for me?”
What was happening? Why? How was she supposed to just… assess this? It… No. It had to be simple. He had done kid gloves before, he was pulling his punches after the last few days but. How close was he to becoming what he was again? How….
“What… what are your, umm… th-the pills you take for? S-sir.” While she couldn’t necessarily tell at this point due to her damp fur she could feel it. She was sweating, her heart was racing cause she didn’t know how this would go. He shifted in his seat, crossing his arms and closing his eyes. He seemed to ponder for a moment leaving her in an uncomfortable suspense.
“They…” he tilted his head looking at her again. “They assist me with issues regarding my temperament. There are other side effects.” He stopped there looking her over.
She didn’t quite know how to respond. Eyes darting around as though sifting through her mind for anything useful. Eventually he stood from his chair causing her to jump back, her damp fur puffing up on instinct.
“I think that this is a good start. I’ll see you around lunch time for more… eggs I suppose. Would you like anything else to tide you over in the meantime?”
Liana merely stood there rigid, shaking her head in a jittery motion. He took a deep breath hosting the chair from the ground and folding it up. Then with a short sigh his posture deflated slightly as he set it against the wall near the small table. He trotted over to the door, turning around for a moment looking at her.
“You are allowed to be honest, just don’t be disrespectful.” He closed the door leaving her alone in the cold basement.
It took a few moments but all the tension in her body disintegrated, the relief caused her to nearly collapse as she slumped down to the floor clutching the towel and holding it to her face. She didn’t want to know if she was crying or not, but she just wanted to have it there as her mouth was held agape, letting her wail into the soft void.
****************************************4 Hours later**************************************
A mind like Liana’s could not be at rest. An unfortunate curse when all that may be meditated upon is the harrowing circumstances she was in. Light fantasies involving rescue, escape, or her favorite would be at least vengeance. Little distractions from the yawning chasm that was left from the violation of her spirit. There was little left of the strength that she had grasped just a little over a few days ago, the embers of her spite still carrying a resolute glow of resistance, just not in his presence.
She was trapped, beyond the steel bars of her cell her mind failed to really think of anything substantive aside from her own crisis. A dizzying circuitous thought process leading to the same conclusions that are rapidly forgotten in the narcotic torpor she was under. Even without the thoughts, the emotional disparity remained. There were moments when she allowed a fantasy of rescue to corrupt her perceptions, as though anyone was going to get her out of this but herself.
Time was all she seemed to have, yet with her mind in such a state time was the last thing she really needed. A thought she immediately came to regret as the familiar thumping down the basement stairs heralded the arrival of her despair. The reinforced door swinging open to reveal a platter of food being handled by her bandaged captor.
“We will be having lunch together.” He set the plastic platter of steaming delicacies down upon the workbench as he again set up the small table and chair just outside the cell’s bars. She on the other hand froze, not entirely sure on what to do. The clouded mental state she was in again reduced her to naked instinct which, with a lack of any definitive options, resorted to paralysis. Moving the platter over to the table once it was set up gave her a better view of what she realized smelled so good.
For a moment she moved towards the bars, towards the food as her breakfast was somewhat sparse, till he stepped around the chair taking a seat in it. Her awareness was so reduced, she could only really even contemplate one event at a time. Whatever he was giving her it was so much more potent than before, like a constant state of mental exhaustion.
Lost in thought till he tapped the thick plastic of the disposable cup against the bars for her. More water, likely drugged. He held it there for several seconds while her mind seemed to short out while attempting to determine an action.
“Take it.” She subtly recoiled at his words, a hard monotone striking her in such a way that some might see it as a jolt of pain. She quickly acquiesced to his demand not wishing to draw his ire, never again was a quiet whisper in her mind. Anything to avoid that again.
Grasping the cup from his bandaged hand she drew it into the cell to take a sip. To which he nodded. Leaving them both in silence for a moment, reaching for a bottle of water from the platter he begins to take a sip of his own, setting it down as he looked over the food, causing her to turn her attention to it.
“You seemed unsure this morning when asked what to have for lunch. I decided to go with something more fitting than eggs for an afternoon meal.”
A hunk of meat cut into pieces that was once perhaps a whole prime slab of steak, coated in a thick auburn sauce that gave the already bloody meat a sweet aroma. Alongside it was a mound of steaming veggies and thick orange pudding in a small serving cup. At least some of the meal looked quite enticing. She doubted it was for her.
“Now, we will do this again. A simple conversation, you may respond however you wish as long as you are within the set of rules that you have already been presented. I however would appreciate honesty.” He began using the plastic utensil to stab into the sliced bits of steak prepared in bite sized slices.
“You like steak, yes?” Prying a piece of rare meat from the full slab he held it in the air for a moment looking back at her. Liana nodded, to which Edwin seemed to visibly scowl.
“Use your Words.” She flinched from his words, as though they were a hand raised to strike her. She took a breath.
“Y-yes sir.” The intensity in his posture faded with her response. Holding the fork out he put it near the bars, close enough she could hold her head out to eat.
“Good, now eat it.” She didn’t realize she was shivering slightly, the cold grasp again became more evident. Not as she was earlier in the day, a beast left without a meal for almost a day. Her movement was cautious, restrained. Taking several seconds to place her open mouth between the bars. He gently deposited the slice of meat, to which she closed her mouth and began to chew.
It was… fantastic. A sweet, juicy meld of soft flesh, cooked to just a perfect degree. It could be her body’s response to her lack of food, yet it was still some of the best food she could conjure in recent memory. Then again she could barely remember anything in detail in the past few weeks. A flash of a thought was that if the drug really did enhance her senses, perhaps that included taste. Regardless, without paying attention to the food she quickly swallowed it instead of savoring it, now finding herself salivating for more.
“What do you like about it?” another question, as he stabbed the fork into another pre cut, bite sized piece of meat holding it on the tip of the fork. His gaze turned back to her, she felt some pressure bare down on her in his attention. Again she wanted to flee from his gaze, her focus collapsing into a panicked tumult grasping at any set of words she could speak to free her of this sensation.
“I… it.. It’s juicy… uhhh… g-gamey… Softness?... S-sir.” His posture deflated, a bit more than before as he started to again put the fork closer to the bars but stopped half way.
“How about you try to formulate a cohesive response. Take a moment if needed.” The hunk of meat dropped its sweet brown liquid onto the concrete floor. Hanging a few inches from her reach, the rich scent of seasoned meat swirling in a steamy mist.
“Something that an individual over the age of five could say.”
A flash, a distant spark of defiance kindled her ashen pride. A glancing blow seeming to demand reprisal. Something she wasn’t sure she could summon.
“I… happen to like its soft, juicy texture, sir. It’s.. it’s sweet flavor… though. I think this one is a bit undercooked..” She could barely bring herself to utter even that gentle critique.
“A-at least to my tastes, sir.” her voice cracked under the hairline fractures of panic she allowed to slip through. Still though he nodded, putting the fork of food within reach again to which she accepted the offering. A bit colder than the last piece yet still appetizing, retaining the sweetness she had been lacking as of late.
“You may have noticed that I haven’t really given you much complex food, at least nothing requiring utensils. Do you know why?” He proceeded to pick out another bit of the meat, yet after he completed that he began stabbing the vegetable contents of the plate creating a kind of short meat skewer. It was quite the alm, for an equally demanding question.
He hadn’t punished her yet, but he could just be waiting, baiting her to make a mistake. That was his objective right? That was the purpose? She couldn’t zero in on anything, god this was so frustrating. Only given a moment of peace before she swallowed that toxic brew, now she was diminished, stranded with less processing power than when she was a child. He raised his brow as she seemed to struggle with a response, pulling back with the tender of meat. She was hungry yes, but she feared reprimand more than missing the meal, thus… speech.
“Threat!” His ears perked up, as did most of his posture. He seemed engaged with what she was saying. Rightly so as it was evocative by the nature of her lacking any formalities. Something she quickly maneuvered to rectify.
“It is a threat to allow someone like me utensils… sir. No matter how small or meager given time I could turn anything you give me into a threat to you.” He stalled for a moment, then… in a fairly unnerving way he seemed to let a shallow rictus peek over his cheeks. He offered the makeshift kebab to her. She took a moment to bite each piece off individually, clamping down with a voracious ferocity as the intensity of her famished state was bubbling up from beneath the tides of echoing terror. Tugging on the fork as she pried the last of it from its prongs. Liana barely chewed the savory collop. The flavor flooding her senses as she barely chewed and greedily swallowed it, wincing as her marred throat ached.
“Hungry I assume?” Liana glanced up to him, not venturing above his throat with her focus, yet allowing herself to perceive his expression.
“This time, be gentle, eat slower.” He carved into the slab of meat, stabbing at the dissected fragments making another serving for her as he spoke.
\tHe left the new steaming mouthful of food hanging before her. Was that a command? What did he mean slowly? She felt a knot in her throat which tried to unconsciously swallow. She turned her gaze down to the object of contention, a mist of juicy delight wafted from it. With jittering apprehension she opened her mouth, leaning forward ever so slowly as focused on the target with a looming sense of dread lest she commit some error to garner further judgment. With a leaden apprehension she enveloped her target with her maw. Then slowly closing her jaws down over the steaming dollop of meat turning her eyes to assess if she is fitting the requirement. Taking careful deliberate breaths, she lets her teeth start to sink into the meat, grasping ahold of the fleshy exterior. A pause, simply waiting there for a moment while she looks again at him. A skittish glance that tried to assess his expression through her peripherals, not wanting to agitate her trauma.
Witnessing no reaction. With an ever expanding sensation of cautious anxiety she began the delicate task of gently prying the morsel from the utensil. Her body shuddering from anxious tension that clamped down over every fiber of muscle. Uneven breaths made her task all the more difficult as she navigated the knifes edge of what was slow enough. The food slowly eased off the tip of the prongs. She stopped again, scanning him for any sign, nothing. For a moment she contemplated what to do next, questioning every action before simply easing up and letting the meat fall onto her tongue. Then, slowly, she chewed. Biting into it, once, twice, three times. Carefully counting, feeling for it. Again her captor made no action for the duration of her display. Finally having pulverized the material into a format she could swallow, she slowly tilted her head back a bit and… it was over. She lowered her head back down, looking at him.
“There we go. Not only capable of honesty without insult, you follow instruction well. Something that I think we can both appreciate. You spoke your mind without becoming caustic. Now since we can clearly see you can answer in such a manner….” he picked one of the larger sliced pieces of meat this time holding it aloft.
“Do you like your room? The space you are in??”
She froze again, why this? Why this again? Was he really so insulted by her comment that he would prefer honesty? No it had to be a trap… but… but she was going to be punished either way here right? More days of being strapped to things. Either… either, there was no mercy and this was a trap in which she would be honest anyway. Or the point was to be transparent in her responses as long as she was formal. There was no real negative in truth compared to lying, either way it would likely be harmful.
He simply sat there waiting for her to respond. Her heart was racing cause she didn’t know anymore. She didn’t feel confident, she didn’t feel smart, she felt like a scared broken animal. This is what he made her… she grasped upon the strength she had and spoke.
“I… I hate it here… sir.” she barely was able to whisper it. To him, to conjure the spirit necessary to come to terms with it. She felt tears welling up in her eyes so she closed them, not wanting to let it leak out. Gritting her teeth she waited for what came next, then she smelt the alluring bloody scent of the cooked steak again dangling before her.
“Well done. I appreciate your honesty.”
It wasn’t a trap? She hesitantly took a bite to which he held the fork there, not jabbing at her, no shock, no toys to be implanted. Just… food, and talk.
“Now that we have that cleared up. Let’s go further, do you like your attire? I made it just for you.”
Now becoming aware of what she was wearing, more so what she was presenting. There was an unconscious motion to cover herself, to use the sheets from the bed to protect what little she had. Something that quickly faded.
“It… its not to my liking. Sir. Well made, but…” He stopped, holding the plastic utensil aloft over the various remaining bits of meat and veggies of her meal. Again mixing it with the veggies and sides adorning the dish.
“But?” He raised his brow with a slight turn to her direction, away from his task.
Liana squirmed under his focus, again unsure if this was a real question or a trap. He had been amicable so far. The times she thought she understood him were undone in recent days. Just… continue she supposed. Closing her eyes she spoke.
“It’s perverted, it is designed to simply show off things… t-things I would rather not.” As she allowed herself to express such an opinion the words slowly became flavored with the passionate fury she had lost over the last few days. The sentence finishes with a groaning sigh with scalding intent, at least nearly. She allowed herself a breath before finishing. Opening her eyes only to suffer the cold in her veins as she took him in.
“S-sir.”
“Well… I made it to exemplify what I like. Though, if it is so grating, you’re free to offer suggestions.” He offered the last bit of food she might have. Of which she accepted, finding it a bit hard to swallow he poured more cold water into her cup, which she gulped down. After a moment of silence he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The moment dragged on, she tensed, then cautiously reached to set the cup down outside the cage waiting for what came next.
“I-is attire with more… coverage an option, sir?” She looked down at the cup, she noticed that she was trembling subtly as she broke the silence. Fear of reprimand? Or was the quiet getting to her? She couldn’t taste the difference in the sensation, just the sensation needles pressing in on her heart.
“A legitimate question. As things are currently, no.” His voice held a soft monotone, he shifted in his chair which ushered forth another bout of chilling paralysis. His every motion blurred into a myriad of potential agonies waiting to be plied upon her. Her mind was unable to translate what was a precursor harmless gesture or brutal assault.
“Do you… want any other amenities to help deal with the discomfort of your wounds? New bandages? Or perhaps more pillows?” She moved to answer, yet the speech stumbled in her throat.
“I.. I.. w-well uh…” It was a strangling uncertainty of- just about everything. She couldn’t parse if any offer made by him was some complex trap, some action that would result in punishment or if it was otherwise some. Panic set in, she wasn’t responding in earnest, and perhaps that would be what would elicit punishment. However, if she misspoke… would that bring even greater ire? Doubt grasped her as it had not since the earliest days of her childhood. However… the only way she escaped that was by working through it. She couldn’t stay like this, couldn’t be a whimpering child in an adult's body, she had to DO something, anything to begin to rise from the slowly crushing depths she was sinking to. She had only been looking to not offend, so sure that it was just another trap. That all the harm he had done up to now was purposeful to break her, yet today her captor had been so passive. An abstract approach from before, he had never been like this. He even fed her, patiently. Waiting for her to approach him.
Casting back through a lifetime of memories, scratches and scrapes, adventures and failures. There was no hope of relief as she was conducting herself. It wasn’t a question of could she really afford to indulge her terrified indolence? Could she afford to not? She grit her teeth, tensing her whole body.
“I.. I could use more sir.” A pervasive shudder came over her. A request for more of anything from her callous captor, from her rapist, set off so many mental alarms. Like inviting a demon into one’s abode, it could never go well. Yet there was no other reasonable direction. She couldn’t bring herself to look at her imposing interlocutor.
“Fair. How much more? As well I suppose a change of sheets?” It was so sudden, with a rapid response from him that could almost be equated to excitement, had he the capacity to display it. While his voice did not dispense depth, the haste at which he reciprocated speech was evident at a change in tone. Liana was almost taken aback. The plan was to talk? Hadn’t they… Well, not like now. It was different now, in a way she couldn’t… that she didn’t want to define. She didn’t want to be like this, but how much could she do against it? Every time she even glanced over his face, his eyes were like abyssal holes she fell into, experiencing vivid flashes of the event. She couldn’t let herself stay this way, keep going, just more words.
“I.. It would be nice to have- um- Four. Sir.” Yes, a full sentence. Barely any stuttering, now if she could look at him it would look like a conversation.
“May I ask why such a specific number?” Another rapid reply, she heard him shift in his chair as she continued to look away now. Trying to disperse the remaining pins and needles that seemed to be pumping through her heart. A return to composure. Closing her eyes helped even more as she rifled through her reasoning, harkening back to days before she was locked in a cage.
“Two for my head, a-and another pair to put between me and the bars. And yes, I would appreciate a new pair of sheets, sir.” Eloquent almost, still a trembling rasp of a first time public speaker but more functional than a sobbing sack of self loathing she had been for a few days. The desire to curl up and die however still filled stagnant air. Struggling past the mounting anxiety. Deep breaths, unraveling the tension over her every muscle.
“That is more than reasonable. You can expect a delivery before you sleep tonight.” He shifted in his chair, leaning forward in her peripherals. Her instant desire was to recoil, jump away under the assumption of imminent violence. Yet she steeled herself against his movement, instead freezing in place. A response that she was relieved seemed to be the right one.
“Is that all?” He let the question hang as part of her again began looking for a trap. Yet this time, she instead ignored such a repetitive thought process, steering away. Instead she would continue, as obeisance to her instinctual fears were crippling.
“I… if I…” Anxiety grasped her, stealing the words before they could get to her tongue. Her mind fogged behind medication as words stumbled out from her. Salience a bitter memory, she pushed against the drowning bitterness. Forcing a space in her mind free to think.
“I would like… sir. Some more pain killers perhaps. New bandages, and more meat. Are these viable” Her voice still had the supplicant rasp of her timidity, her focus solely upon that of completion as she was hounded by primordial instinct trying to choke her into cowering obedience. She held on, but just barely.
“Those are reasonable requests. Though some may take some time. You are able to apply your own bandages, however I will only supply you with painkillers on request.”
“Wh… on request, sir? What- when you're not here. What then?” Reaching slowly for the bruises on her body. Massaging them as her attention magnified the aches.
“Not to degenerate you, however in light of your recent choices I don’t feel I could trust you with a large amount of any medication. Perhaps a dose or two, no more though. You’re more than capable of causing issues when I give you virtually nothing.” A challenge roused her strength letting her shed fragments of her shivering indecision.
“I… You think I… I would use it with harmful intent, sir?” It was getting easier, counting the breaths, closing her eyes. Giving herself a pattern to work off of.
“Considering your situation, what you do matters less than what you can do. What you are capable of matters more. Under the stresses of what I put you through, what you can do could be anything.” Gritting her teeth she clenched her palm, choking back a hiss of his accusation. She had already done more than she ever imagined she would have to, and failed.
“I… I see sir.”
“While I know your time here hasn’t exactly been uplifting, have you found any pleasure in these exercises? The bondage, the toys, any of it?” She almost felt her heart stop at the brutal temerity of such a question. The bitter convulsion traveled over her in a wave causing hair to stand on end. Choking on acrimonious intent, acerbic tears welling up. She struggled for a moment, swallowing it all down. Followed by what felt like minutes of just breathing. The uncomfortable stillness that lingered in his question bit at her every thought. DID she enjoy any of it? Was there a traitorous fragment of herself that yearned to simply submit?
“I… jus… si..” No amount of physical strain she could muster would trammel the contrarian sensations. A furious grief tangled in her mouth. Her captor noted this as she heard movement, the jingling of keys. A moment of shock washed away her indecision as she turned the source of the sound. Her eyes locked on the small remote in his hand, raised in the air, he slowly moved to set it down on the ground and pushed it a few feet away from himself.
“I… sir, is… is that?” He took a breath.
“It’s clear that you are barely able to communicate in your current state. The threat of punishment could force you to speak yet there would be no sense of honesty. This perhaps will allow for speech between us. If not genteel at least genuine.” Returning to his forward posture, leaning on his arms he assumed his signature stolid foible.
“So, with there being no threat as long as you function within established rules. I would ask if you have found any pleasure in these exercises I have put you through?” placid as the in composure her interlocutor sat opposed to her, his question striking her again, yet this time unshackled.
“I.. well…” A deep breath, turning towards him with her whole body as she grasped the bars, constricting around the cold metal. Then, the utterance that stilled the stinging pall which restrained her.
“No. Whatever sensation has been violently pried from me comes only from your copious abuse of drugs alongside peculiar tools.” She pulled against the bars biting down on her fear as the shuddering frustration warped her hissing whispers.
“Tools that have forced me to experience sensations I would prefer to have never been aware of. I am as pleased as a salted muscle is to live. Animate only due to perverse external stimuli. Sir.” Her statement complete, the strength abated, she collapsed against the bars as the few bitter sobs rocked her for a moment.
An emotional event she could not chance again, not soon at least. Barbed weight bore down on her chest. Dyspnoeic inhalation soothing the wretched stinging, her retort presented she allowed herself recovery. A recovery her captor even allowed as he waited patiently, letting her compile her temperament. Her breathing steadying she opened her eyes to see her captor, patiently waiting.
“That almost seemed therapeutic. You even held to the limited ruleset presented. Well done, what kind of meat would you prefer if you were to be given more? Do you have a favorite? Cooked to what extent? Rare? Well done?” The questions washed over her, passing her by as she came back from the depths with something of her own.
“In all honesty sir, I don’t really care. On some level I appreciate the meat, the meal, and the care given to it. The base level, the level that thirsts, hungers, fears… nothing more than bestial instincts. What I really want to know…” She turned away, laying her back against the bars and tilting her head up to the ceiling as she reached down into herself. Dragging the wretched teratoma up through her throat like some fermenting cancer. Letting it scrape its way out as she regurgitated the question she had asked herself every day she had been here.
“Why me?” a coarse susurration skulked from her lips, exhaling ephemeral resignation over her bare body. More questions, more desperate requests piled up in her mind hoping to fill the silence, tumbling out of her grasp, unable to control it.
“Why kidnapping? Bondage? Why me? Wh…. Why?” By the end of her questioning she was grasping at her scalp trying to hold in the tumult of emotions her question brought to the surface. Her emotional control compromised if not just from the drugs than from the trauma, but still in her anemic grasp at the moment.
The silence stretched on as she recovered, with only the minor disturbance of fabric shuffling behind her. The chair he was seated in creaked slightly till finally.
“I suppose we can’t go back to normal questions after that. So allow me to elucidate, step by step, on how we got here.” He took a deep audible breath in as he began.
“After years of pouring over work to try to be an individual of merit and worth I started to come to the conclusion that the purpose of my work was not going to produce one of the primary goals I had aimed for. Companionship. Something that troubled me enough for me to actively begin trying to fix the problem in my slowly growing spare time. How I went about this is the same methodology I use in a great deal of my work, analysis, planning, constructing a thesis and thinking things through. Over time I started to construct a list of candidates. Locate and investigate my biases and try to understand what I could do to assuage the issue in particular as it had started to become more than bothersome.” He stopped to take a sip of water it seemed, based on the crunching noise of it being from a sealed water bottle.
“I came to make a kind of decision matrix, doing a point based analysis of various candidates for dating first off. Individuals I noted that accommodate my particular tastes such as yourself… You are goal oriented, high in output and achievement, don’t go out much for social reasons, no real group hobbies, the key factor was no interest in dating. While that does apply to you it applied to anyone that I had a form of attraction to. You only showed up on my radar due to what I found out was some required business outing at a bar which you seemed to be reserved at even amongst your peers. Luckily plenty of your co-workers were drunk enough to answer questions but likely would not remember anything. So at that point I started to really work on your dossier to determine if you were what I wanted based on the many stories they had about you. Direct, a bit angry, efficient, constantly aiming for promotion and furthering your own career. They honestly had little good to say about you aside from your looks, which while a bonus were not my target interests. Then I had to maintain that distance, rented a car to follow you around some days, changing out the vehicle every few days, learning habits to find in-roads. Your work was the most obvious roadblock. You frequently arrived early and left late. I never went in of course, never approached the building so as to not allow myself to be seen by anyone. At one point I thought about potentially approaching you in some attempt to propose a relationship. I investigated you thoroughly trying to find a method of approach but you have no social presence for dating whatsoever.
So I assessed, and started to see what I would have to do to get what I wanted. It only took a few days of observing you before I determined my path. It took a year of assessment before I took the opportunity to acquire you.” Liana felt a cold, did she really not notice him? Following her for months, or more?
First, looking at a conventional approach. I was under no illusion, considering my eccentricities alongside your personal propensity to deny social ties and reject new relationships i. Even in the scenario where I was capable of winning you over, there was a significant likelihood you would not be willing to subject yourself to my interests. In the event you couldn’t be convinced to work with me, then the entire enterprise is wasted.
There were no good routes to pursue in a conventional sense, which personally led to a great deal of frustration till I allowed myself to consider another direction. If I couldn’t acquire you through social means, perhaps I could another way. The majority of issues with the consensual method could be ignored if I simply used the most direct force.
Considering a kidnapping approach, instead of allowing for social variables and chance to dictate the possibility of success it is all on me. All of the failure conditions in this scenario are things that can be mitigated through time and planning; something I consider myself very good at. Which for the most part has proven to line up with my prediction as something that had a much lower chance of failure which was for the most part all under my control. The negative however was the inability to ever participate in the game again, mainly either arrest and a lifetime of incarceration, or in the lowest possible stratum…” He looked at the bandages on his hand.
“An untimely death. Something that is not quite ever off the table, yet the chances in my estimation were only slightly higher than the background possibility of me dying any given day.” He turned his gaze back to her, his moment in-memoriam having ended.
So, when looking over the possibilities. Between either the conventional route, which almost all aspects of the endeavor are outside of my own control. Especially due to a consistent record of my social acumen being insufficient to bring the consensual chances of lasting long term relationship to manifest. Or, the kidnapping route: a situation entirely within my own control that I am completely responsible for, with much higher consequences of failure, but a much higher chance of success without compromise.
“Of course there was always a potential for failure. After a statistical analysis and comparison I decided acquiring you through force proved more beneficial than acquiring you through social means.
It required a lot of planning, which I am good at, I didn’t need to be as socially accommodating or have people skills. Which I am doubtless you are beginning to understand I lack due to a condition you have now been exposed to. One significant compromise intrinsic to the acquisition by force method is a reduced chance of a genuine relationship. It is something I would have preferred, but less significant than the loss of control present in the other avenue.”
“So then came the next step for me. Actually addressing the subject. If I were to date you, or actually attempt contact with you in any way before committing to kidnapping. Then the risk magnifies by such an amount it also is not worth the attempt.This meant kidnapping could not be used as a backup solution to the social route, as any presence in your life could highlight me as a suspect in your disappearance. I had to be a stranger to you if I were to commit to that path.”
“All or Nothing. As it usually is in my experience. The likelihood of me being able to convince you to actually interact with me in the desired manner was so very small, the likelihood of an extended relationship developing in the desired manner was astronomically miniscule. I had contemplated other candidates before, made plans, your behavioral patterns merely allowed for the greatest successful outcome. I had to dedicate myself to one of the proposed routes, and I chose the one that was most advantageous to me. This had other drawbacks, Though again due to personal issues the likelihood of success in such an activity was not ideal. Dedicating myself to this meant that I had to become isolated.” His momentary pause again seemed only to catch his breath.
She swallowed, not entirely sure what exactly it was, an unstable sensation that she couldn’t process. Like a caustic gasoline she could feel the desire to cry, to mourn herself being objectified in such a way, an objectification that mustered a molten poison within her.
“I wouldn’t say it was solely out of convenience. However you merely were the most advantageous individual to target. Least risk with highest reward that was in the upper tiers of targets based on how I ranked you. There were others with potential, but none so much as you. Between similar candidates your behavioral pattern and the security vulnerabilities of your workplace. It took months of planning, observation, and investment. The level of investment made me have to be very discerning with my targets. Eventually trimming it down to three of you.” These answers gave understanding, yet no emotional benefit was gleaned from them. She was the prime candidate over a selection of slaves, or…
“Wa… am I the first… sir?” There was no more tremble in her voice, it cracked as the sensations crystalized within her finding purchase over the barren landscape of her heart.
“Yes. You are the first one I have done this to, and likely to be the only one. The risk is already immense and not something I would likely commit to again. At least not alone. Though that happens to beg the question. Am I ‘your’ First?”
The question took a moment for her to think through. Putting aside the possibility left other options but, she took it to where she knew he was prodding. Her stomach turned as her skin bristled with hostility causing her hairs to stand on end. Biting down on her fury felt like choking as words burned to ash in her throat. Her life coming down to a roller coaster of primal fury and soul crushing apathy was starting to feel monotonous. Even worse when he stirred these humiliating aspects into the mix. Yet she couldn’t muster the pride to strike back. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she shuddered as she took it in, assessing her options. Letting go of the ego as she decided that any defense over it was unnecessary.
“No… You were not my first, sir.” Another chip against her self-perception, her shattered ego diminished fragment by fragment. Things she took for granted like freedom or the privilege that society had afforded her were not present here. Her desperate attempt at an escape thinking that because she had an idea that her plan would work against someone who had clearly spent so much time and effort to be careful was childish. At least in hindsight, but was breaking out really worth it again? The pain, the terror… the presence of someone actually trying to kill you.
Something else she neglected to consider, how polite even the most offensive individual is. As long as they don’t actually try to kill you, everything else is practically flirtatious in comparison. Her body was passively tense now, but she was more aware of it as the trembling came over her. Reminiscing about such deliberate rancor was unsettling in how aware it made her. If she ever wanted to entertain the fantasy of escape, she would have to be at least somewhat invested in this. No more half assed pretending.
“Given your traits I guessed that you could have had others. Good that such an experience was not your first.” A par for the course as he backhanded her with crocodile concern. She swallowed, clearing her throat as she wanted to be heard. Working through the fear, the spite.
“I… Am I… Am I still drugged, sir?” She turned her head, staring at him through her hair, his eerie silhouette still haunted her. Yet she attempted to hold on as the discomfort set in. He leaned forward with a strange interest as he looked at where he thought her eyes might be.
“Of course, we both know what you're capable of when you're not. However the specifics I am not willing to go into. You could take just about any inference as a tactical advantage.” His actions were as mechanical as his speech. An unnerving guise of humanity cocooned in a felid humanoid that masquerades as a mortal. She wanted to wretch as her gut turned, his form sending warning signals through her brain every second. Yet she held on, having lost enough today she wanted to try to have one subtle victory. A victory of sight.
“Do you think it will make me forget what you did to me, sir?” She clenched her fists, claws extended as her body would not let them retract, the pain scrambled through her palms and into her brain, an act that made her grit her teeth to focus.
“No. I imagine that night will be unforgettable for both of us. I assume if we could redo it we both would have wished that it didn’t happen.” Combat was something she was used to against others, but never this much herself. Usually committing to a task was something she could just do, or she reasonably understood an inability to do so. However this constant battle against her emotions, the aspects of her being that defined her desire to live. She held her one eye gaze, clawing forward with more.
“Have you considered other consequences, sir?” She clenched her fists feeling the tips of her claws when she loosed the query.
“That depends? To what in particular would you be referring?” His response didn’t feel empty. As though there was a hint of curiosity over something he may have missed.
“Did… you didn’t… sir, is there any contraceptive measure involved since t-the.. Ah… the…” She shuddered, closing her eyes as they swelled. Her body went into a cold sweat for a moment as flashes of it all came back.
“I.. see. You are questioning if the incident could have caused an unwanted pregnancy.” hearing it out loud stole her breath for a moment. Her eyes slowly cracked open to see his posture, his response. He was holding a hand to his chin letting himself focus.
“That is an actually meaningful concern. It should be possible for me to acquire some means of post insemination contraceptives of some sort. However they are likely not guaranteed to be effective. There is the possibility that the act simply didn’t produce anything, however there is no way to immediately know. I will act upon the negative outcome and focus on assuring that if you are in fact pregnant, we abort with whatever means are at my disposal before it becomes problematic.” It was, again, so reductive and static. Only considering the physical aspects of it. It was really like he was a machine parading as a mortal. She felt so hollow, so empty. She had heard of the concept of objectification and reduction but it’s like there wasn’t a point in his projections where she was a person. Just a variable.
“Otherwise I imagine that I’ll have to secure some alternative means. I will look into other methods, in the meantime keep me apprised of your condition. I assume that you would prefer to avoid such an outcome as baring my child; at least as things are now,” Finally his words targeted her and it was a slap, a gentle one but a strike nonetheless, she shot back.
“Is this it then? Am I to be locked in this basement till I die sir?” He moved, as she instinctively tried to wince. Locking her body as she resisted the action, did she really think that she could sentence herself to a never ending battle with him? It seemed that surrender was what all the rest of her wanted… but if she gave in… why not just die? It doesn’t matter what her body wants. He finally spoke as she blinked in surprise, reprimanding herself as she pried her one eye open.
“That depends on behavior, your actions. Eventually there may be a time when you are trusted to do more than simply live in a cell. However that day may not be as close as you either of us would desire. It is possible that there is a life for you beyond this cage, that depends on you though.” Her scalp began to pry a scowl from the wretched mask of tepid submission she wrestled with. His graceless neutrality masked the monster that wounded her. Now she had to cower behind instinct, left to languish in all the would be’s and what if’s.
“Based on your recent behavior. That time might be far off. I have had to augment my security and alter how I manage handling you further to assure there are no possibilities of escape…” He eyed her ruminating on something as she struggled to maintain a through line on her emotional state. Smoldering rage rekindled yet constantly diminished from the inscrutable ephemera that was her drug addled anxiety.
“On such a note, I must insist upon one more thing.” Reaching into his pocket he produced a plastic scroll of tools that he lays out next to the empty plate. Filled with various tools that she was actually familiar with for once. It was a tool kit for maintaining one's claws. Turning he moved over to one of the drawers before coming back over to the cell. She recoiled from the edge of the cell as he attached a horizontal metal clasp to the bar near her bed that had two leather restraints on either side. Seemingly designed to hold her hands out of it.
“I delayed it yesterday as I was focused on things more for today as well as the next week. I had forgotten until I made a note of it. You used your claws against me. Something I should have accounted for earlier but didn’t imagine I needed to. I aim to assure that all the tools of your escape are mitigated. Now put your hands here.” he looked at her expectantly, his gaze locked on with purpose. It took a moment to ground herself between the waves of sensations, as she knew he would not have patience. She crawled up slowly to offer her hands.
He seemed to respond in kind, slowly binding each arm in the leather restraints pulling fairly tight so she couldn’t move.
“This will be quick, quicker if you don’t resist.” he turned to the tools aligned next to the plate and began working. His pace demonstrated veterancy with the task, though he was fairly rough with her hands, grasping them and forcing the claws out fairly far as he searched how close he could get it down without harming the quick. Moving from snipping to filing it down and then onto the next, Shifting tools between fingers silently. It was almost boring till he spoke.
“That should do it, another issue dealt with.” he started to undo the bindings.
She pulled her hands back to her feeling them. Her focus was on what he was doing so much that the sensations over her fingers felt strange. He started to fold up the kit into the scroll again after organizing it.
“Now with your primary method of causing significant harm being properly blunted, the last unaccounted for aspect of your escape has been accounted for. If we are being honest, I had both the key to the cell and your collar on me at the time so I could wash you, which I imagine you were relying on. You were close to escape. After taking some time to consider what you were doing I realized that you would not have attempted what you did if you didn't think there was a way out afterward. To remove that possibility I have decided that I will not be bringing the keys to your collar unless you are significantly restrained.”
“Your collar serves to keep you within the cell should you find a way to open the gate. The keys will be stored far away, at much inconvenience to myself but if it is what is necessary to curb such behavior. Before I remove your collar, you will be restrained; at which point I will leave to retrieve the keys to your collar. I will then leave the restraint keys at that location before returning to you and removing the collar. Once I am finished the process will be repeated in reverse. Even if you were to incapacitate me you would be trapped down here regardless.” There was an almost tangible animosity coiled in his voice.
“You will remain attached to this cell until I decide otherwise.” Flung out like a whip cracking against her back. The pain stunned her as she sank back, not just from the conversation but from reality. Pushed by the weight of his statement, or perhaps dragged down by it.
A numbing monody in her mind. Lost within the ruins of her former grandeur was an echoing in the fog. Some deeper wound ascribed by her failure as he dispensed the commentary of her actions as though they were incidental. Her outward expression seemed to have become somewhat more placid as she was stuck in viscosity of her realization, her failure. The numbing ennui brought her down. Her mind cast off into the distance while her physical form crumpled in the absence of its conscious mind. Some vacant doll rendered unto rigor mortis by paralyzing lament.
To know that she was close and failed, at what could have been her only shot now that he had rectified the weakness she spent weeks exploiting. She assumed as much, yet having the bitter thoughts she had brushed aside for the past few days rendered before her was the twisting of the dagger. Emotion, despite not being monosyllabic in language, it was in tone. As the depth of the varied conscious forces in her mind were barely functional as they had always been over her last several weeks of life. Shock faded as her captor moved, some klaxon within her mind prying her to meekly respond.
“I… I see… sir…” Tears bubbled up around the edges of her vision while she swallowed the poison of his words. So diminished from what she was it was becoming hard to remember. Had it even been a month? Was she a coward? Was it even worth it?
“I… am going to rest… if there is nothing else sir.” Speech stretched from her lungs out with a muffled monotone that seemed to have some effect on her captor as he began to rise from his seat.
“You finished your meal so this is permissible. Enjoy your time as we return to a more regular schedule in the coming days.” cleaning up for a moment was loud as she slowly collapsed onto the bedding, her every action taking immense effort as she grasped for the sheets in a mass on the cold concrete floor. Despite how loud he was she was barely perceptive of her captor as he folded up his chair and moved the table aside, collecting the plate and cup. Only for a moment was she brought back when he spoke while closing the door to the basement stairs.
“Hopefully you will be functional by then.” His static speech dispensed with a less than veiled contumely slit into her back as she lay there.
A hollow ringing filled her mind which was left barren in despondents. Yet this blow against a wounded soul sparked bitter embers beneath. She closed her eyes as the tears dripped down, gritting her teeth. If she had come close to success, then she could do it again.