She is stunned. She doesnt know if she should cry, or go to sleep. She honestly has no idea what she should do.
She sits up, contemplating on getting dressed and leaving. It wouldnt hurt her any, to just walk out the front door, and not look back.
So, she slides off the bed, slightly wobbly, and walks to the armoir. She opens it up, and gets her belongings. Shes ever so quiet, she doesnt feel like looking at any of the gentlemen that kept her company.
She gets dressed, and pads quietly down the hall, into the living room. She sees Seth and Lawrence having a lively debate over some show thats on the television. They dont look up to see her standing there.
David is nowhere to be found. She assumes that he left, to go home, or wherever.
Her eyes are quickly scanning the room. She is standing by the table, with the quill and notepad.She spots Alex, in front of the fireplace. Hes trying to start a fire, but it looks like his Zippo is out of fluid.
Sophie stares at him for a moment, with narrowed eyes. She has an urge to yell at him, to humiliate him in front of his friends, in his own house.
Instead, she musters up all the self will she can, and gets an idea. She looks down at the quill, and the paper. She bends over the table, picks up the quill, and begins to write.
“Dearest Gentlemen,
I must thank you for the evening I have just experienced. Through your actions, your words, your demeanor, I now know that I can be, and will be a delightful slave to be owned. My eyes are open, my ears hear everything, and my lips are now sealed. I feel now, a graceness taking over my spirit, akin to how a grown kitten behaves. I dont know how I could ever repay your kindness.
Eternally,
S.”
She rereads her note, making sure it was legible, and everything spelled correctly. She quietly removes the paper, and starts to walk down the hallway.
She hears the front door opening, and continues to the bedroom. She lays the note on the table next to the cane and candle. She pauses for a moment to run a finger down the cane. She feels its smoothness, and gets weak kneed.
With her note finished, she turns back around to enter the hallway. As soon as she gets to the door, she walks right into Stephen.
She lets out a surprised gasp just as he shoves her backwards. She takes a couple of unbalanced steps backward, eyes wide.
“Steph-Sir. You, when, how??”
Her words keep tumbling out, when he places a hand over her mouth.
” Shh. Why are you dressed? Did someone tell you that you could leave?”
She shook her head as her eyes slowly lowered to the floor.
He is impressed at how quickly she becomes subserviant.
“Well? You do know how to speak. Answer me.”
“Well, I was left alone. Without words, without direction. And yes, I know, that was, the key word being was, my hardest limit. I made the mistake of telling Alex, and he just up and leaves. To be brutally honest, it made me angry. So I acted out. I took it upon myself, to get dressed. I wrote a note, dropped it here, and was just about to ask Alex for my shoes. I want to go home. Please, Stephen, I just want to be in my own bed, with my own thoughts.”
Stephen just laughs at her.
“You still think that you own yourself. Darling, you arent free to choose or decide what you want to do. I admit though, you have a certain glow about you. It suits you better.”
A tinge of crimson red spreads across her face. She was speechless. He rarely compliments her, so, she knows its genuine. She raises her eyes to his, and sees something flash in them.
“Get undressed, Sophie.”
She carelessly slips off her dress, and hurridly takes off her panties and bra. Her clothes are lying in a messy pile on the floor.
Shes standing in front of Stephen, naked, bare. Her legs are closed, eyes lowered, hands resting calmly at her sides. She wants to see him, to see a hint of desire in his eyes.
He steps towards her, and pushes her on the bed.
“Lay on your stomach, close your eyes, and be still. Fo your insolence, you will be punished by me.”
He walks to the door and shuts it. He sees the paper on the table, and is tempted to read it. But he ignores it, and picks up the rattan cane.
He slides it down her spine. She feels its smoothness, and wiggles under its touch. She isnt sure what it is, and shes afraid to ask.
Her question is answered when she hears a sharp whistling noise cutting through the air.
It lands perfectly on her upper thighs. She stifles a scream, eyes already pooling with tears.
” Count for me Sophia. Count. And I dont care how much it hurts you. And yes, it will hurt. And I give you permission to scream, to cry.”
“Yes Sir, I will keep count.”
And so he swings, swift, through the air. She counts, ten, thirty, fifty, times. Shes screaming so loud, her voice hoarse, her throat feeling raw. Shes hyperventilating, begging him to stop. She loses count at 52, and with the last stroke, she clenches her whole body, rigid. She lets out a horrible scream.
Her skin is striped, welted, bruised. Her body is on fire, beyond alive. She feels a faint breeze on her, and it causes her to shiver violently. Her eyes burn, shes all out of tears. Sweat covers her, giving off the illusion that shes glistening a red glow.
“Stop. Please. Stop. Just stop. Im begging you, Stephen. I cant take one more–” Her whispers are rough, scratchy.
He lands one more blow, and then sets the cane at her side.
“Im letting you rest for a few moments. Then we can go home.”
He strolls over to the couch, and sits in silence. He can hear her laboured breathing, he can see her marks clearly.
Stephen is indifferent to her suffering.
