Carla
Carla stood in front of her bathroom mirror, using a makeup wipe to remove her smudged eyeliner. As she did, she tried to sort out her wildly-conflicting emotions following her visit to Gio. It didn’t help that her ass was still stinging, and she knew she wouldn't be able to sit down easily for quite some time.
The residual fear from before their encounter still flapped madly in her chest like a trapped bat. She'd been sure that the safe words he assigned her would be ignored in favor of Gio's cruel pleasures. She'd been almost as certain that he'd torture and maim her, and that “playing” with him would end with her death.
So why had he obeyed the limits of the safe word? And why had he left her alive, when it would have made much more sense for him to get all the amusement he could out of her in a single night before silencing her forever?
She was relieved to have been proven wrong on both counts, but her curiosity wouldn't stop nagging at her.
He'd choked her, sure. He'd spanked her with his belt and bossed her around. But all in all, she'd gotten off lightly compared to a lot of things that Doms did to their subs—even under normal circumstances—and she knew it.
Could it be that Gio was genuinely interested in pursuing a traditional, long term Dom-sub relationship with her? Much of Carla's research on the S&M community had indicated that such relationships were based on mutual trust, so that might explain why Gio had been careful to respect the stated boundaries, especially during their first session.
Besides, if Gio really had convinced himself that he could continue to control this situation over an extended period of time, it truly demonstrated how inflated his ego was. That could be useful in tripping him up later on.
Then again, Carla also couldn't entirely dismiss the idea that this entire encounter had been nothing more than an elaborate mind game to lull her into a false sense of security, so he could exercise his sadism to its fullest extent next time when she least expected it.
These thoughts ran around in endless and exhausting circles as she wiped off her lipstick. She didn't know what to believe.
Worse still, she didn't know how to feel.
She'd initially approached the whole situation prepared to loathe it on every level. She'd expected to feel nothing but anger and contempt for Gio as he did whatever he wanted to her. She thought she'd have to pretend to go along with it even though she was repulsed.
Instead, once she found herself caught up in the moment with Gio, she had given herself over to it with hardly any resistance. Surrendering complete control of herself to someone else, even someone she despised, had felt oddly freeing. How could that be?
Carla's entire adult life often seemed to her like a never-ending rat's maze of decisions made under tremendous pressure, with the ephemeral promise of “career success” at its center. What did that success even mean to her anymore? A promotion? A medal? The respect and admiration of her peers?
Carla didn't even know anymore. All she knew was that every moment of her career had felt like a struggle for control of her own emotions and actions, since she knew how closely both were scrutinized by the men who worked with her.
This had been the first time she'd truly let go of all that since she joined the Bureau. And instead of feeling terrifying like she'd expected, it had felt like a massive weight lifted from her shoulders.
There had been pain, yes, and humiliation, but with them had come a clarity and focus she couldn't have prepared herself for. For a few moments, she didn't have to worry about keeping up the appearance of attorney Carolyn Aspen, or even Agent Carla Esposito. She'd just been a woman stripped of all identity, all ego and pretense, cuffed to a post and flogged until her entire sense of self narrowed in focus to consist solely of her next breath and her ability to obey.
Carla looked at herself in the mirror and shuddered. She wasn't comfortable learning these things about herself.
Whatever, Carla thought, shaking her head. You want to explore these urges and what they mean? You can do that. Go see a shrink, do some more research, find a nice dungeon, invest in a leather corset, anything you want. But first, you need to focus on nailing this hoodlum to the wall. Nothing else matters.
Her cell phone rang, and she picked it up to look at the caller ID. Part of her dreaded the idea that it might be Gio calling her back for another round in the attic, while a deeper and more shameful part of her was slightly disappointed to see Don's name and number on the small screen.
She accepted the call. “Hello?”
“Shit fire an' save matches, Carla! Where the holy hell have you been all night?” Don asked. “I've been callin' and callin', and no answer!”
Carla inwardly cursed herself for not checking the phone when she got back. “Sorry, Don,” she replied. “I went out for a long walk, and I forgot to take my phone with me.”
“Well, I hope you enjoyed the fresh air an' exercise, 'cause you damn near scared me to death,” Don said. “Never leave your phone behind again, gal, understand? I thought them goons had figured you out, put you in cement shoes, an' dumped you in the river.”
“Nope, they seem pretty clueless about me so far,” Carla reassured him. She hated herself for making Don worry, especially since she knew she'd have to leave her phone behind the next time Gio summoned her too. She'd just have to pray Don didn't decide to call while she was out again.
“That's good news, at least,” Don grudgingly admitted. “You found anything yet that we could use to take 'em down?”
“Still working on that,” Carla said.
“Huh. Well, now that I know you're alive, I reckon I'll let you get some rest...”
“Don?” she said timidly. She didn't know why, but she suddenly felt like she wanted to hear his comforting drawl and country-fried idioms more than anything else in the world. The reality they represented seemed like it was a million miles away from Gio and his room full of bizarre implements.
“Yeah, darlin'?”
“Can you...stay on the phone and talk to me about your family for a little while?” she asked.
“Lurlene an' the kids?” Don answered, confused. “You've never asked about 'em before. Why now?”
“Please?” Carla insisted. “I'd just...like to hear about something normal right now. Anything that's not this case.”
“All right,” Don said. “If it means that much to you. Let's see...well, Althea just turned seventeen last week, an' she's about to start applyin' to colleges. I keep tellin' her she's got the grades for the Ivy Leagues, but she says she wants to go to Texas A&M like her daddy. 'Gender Studies,' can you beat that? I told her, 'There's men an' there's women, so what's to study?' An' Lurlene, heh, she don't wanna get bogged down with the whole empty nest syndrome like when Ben left for the Army, so she's already lookin' into gettin' a realtor's license...”
Carla kept listening to the folksy twang of Don's voice until the sun started to come up.