Joseph

 

 

 

She struggles a lot more than any of the others have. Her desperate attempts to fend me off are like an unsuspecting victim who is trying everything to prevent the inevitable. If I hadn’t pressed the soaked cloth against her face fast enough, she would have yelled out for help, even though that’s not part of the plan. She can struggle, she can try to fend me off, but she cannot make any noise to attract the attention of bystanders.

Her limbs go soft within seconds, and all her weight drops into my arms as she loses consciousness. I have to act fast because she won’t be out for long, and I’m not too familiar with this part of town. There could be people walking by any moment now.

I quickly drag her over to the car, lift her up and lay her down on the backseat. I scan my surroundings to make sure no one witnessed this, before hurrying over to the driver’s side, positioning myself behind the wheel.

My pulse is racing when I push down on the gas pedal and drive away from the scene as fast as possible. This rush of adrenalin is all part of it. The worry about getting caught, her short but intense struggle, having her in the back of my car, helpless, and soon to be at my mercy. The entire time I’m driving to my place, I’m worried that someone might follow us, or someone might see her motionless body in the back seat when I have to stop at a red light. Anything. There are so many things that could go wrong.

But none of them happen.

Her daze will only last long enough for me to get her home. I glance back at her through the rear mirror time and again, just to make sure that she really is still passed out. Some of them don’t inhale enough and simply faint due to the shock of being abducted. In those cases, they awaken within five minutes, and it’s always a risk without any restraints.

But in her case, the drug seems to have worked. She doesn’t wake up the entire drive. It takes almost an hour for me to get out of the city and reach my residence on the outskirts.

My domestic staff has been informed that this week marks the beginning of another “thirty-nine,” a code word they invented to let each other know. None of them know the full extent of what I do with these women, but they are up to speed with as many details as they need to know. They know about the agency and the kind of services I take advantage of. They have to know the bare minimum so I can have the space I need, that we need.

But they don’t have to know everything about it, and most of them don’t—or wouldn’t—even want to. They merely think of it as me having a secretive play partner for thirty-nine days every so often. “Thirty-nine” is their signal to stay out of my way as much as possible. None of them ever enter the uppermost floor, and only one of my staff has ever even seen the rooms up there. Marcus, the head of my cleaning crew, had to sign a full disclosure agreement before I hired him for this particular job, so if he ever jabbers to anyone about it, he understands the seriousness of the consequences he will be dealt.

The house is completely empty tonight, just as I have asked. My staff won’t return until I call for them. My beautiful renovated Victorian mansion awaits at the end of the dark driveway, seemingly harmless, but filled with all the tools I need to fulfill my darkest desires.

I park the car in the driveway and pause for a moment, my eyes glued to the rearview mirror. I can see her laying on the back seat, still unconscious and unaware of what will happen to her over the next thirty-nine days. She may have signed up for this voluntarily, she may even be into this sort of thing —or she is just here to endure a little more than a month of tortuous and sadistic hardship in exchange for an amount of money unattainable through traditional means. After this, she may never have to work again, if she doesn’t want to.

Eventually, I will get to know all about her, her secrets, her fears, her desires, her dreams. I will be as close to her as anyone has ever been before, and I will make her do things she never thought possible. I will expose a new side of her, a side that will be exclusively mine. Forever. Even after we’re done here, that side will remain with me, and she will share things with me that she would never share with anyone else.

They all do.

It’s all part of it. The pain, the sex, the intimacy, the humiliation, the revelation.

My impatient body craves her without even having seen her face. The tension of the first few days is one of the best parts. It may take days until I fuck her, but my cock is already yearning to be buried deeply inside her, straining painfully against its fabric cage, as I get out of the car and walk around to the passenger side.

The first thing I notice when I open the door to the back seat is that she’s not wearing her mask. I can only see parts of her face because it’s hidden behind the massive collar of her fur coat and her tousled hair.

I only catch a glimpse before I tear my eyes away, cursing as I turn around.

Why the fuck is she not wearing her mask?

I avert my eyes and wonder what I should do. She isn’t even inside the house yet, but she has already amassed two strikes for punishment. Drinking and forgetting to wear her mask. This hasn’t happened before.

Breathe, I tell myself. I clench my fists in anger and close my eyes, as I take in three deep, cleansing breaths to calm myself.

She will get punished, but in due time. And I won’t ruin this for myself by looking at her face before I am ready, before it’s time.

I grunt with anger as I take off my scarf and open the door to the car again, making sure not to look directly at her as I wrap the garment around her face.

Done.

I saved myself from immense disappointment, and cannot help but smile as I carry her inside, eagerness building in my gut for the actual reveal.