“Where is Alexander?” I asked boldly. I knew Elodie wasn’t around – she’d left to take care of a sick nephew. But I needed Alexander. He would stop her.
“He’s busy,” she responded dismissively. “He told me to get started without him.” Her gaze turned cold. “I did tell you to kneel, but perhaps you didn’t hear me. This is your only warning.”
I slowly got to my knees. It was six in the evening. After talking to Lucien, I’d gone for a long walk, then sat in a café for hours on end before returning to the house. Where could Alexander be? He was usually at home by this time.
“That’s much better.” She rose to her feet in a sleek motion and walked towards me. I fought to keep my fear hidden from her. I would not panic in front of this woman. Though she didn’t remember me, she’d seen me beg once in Dylan’s stronghold. She would not see me beg again. “You have a dying sister, don’t you? It’s best to stay cooperative, unless you want Alexander to end your contract without paying you.”
She circled me slowly. I fought to keep my eyes on the floor. “I like playing with my toys,” she purred. “Though,” she giggled and the sound was especially vile coming from her mouth, “sometimes I break them.” She shrugged. “Collateral damage, is it not?” She leaned so close to me that I could smell her sickly sweet breath. “Madame Lorraine,” she spat those words out, “won’t let me participate in her auctions. Sanctimonious bitch. She doesn’t know I have Alexander wrapped around my little finger.” She laughed mockingly. “He wouldn’t deny me anything.”
In my head, I was frantically evaluating my options and realizing I didn’t have any good ones. I could take Sylvia in a fight. If need be, I could kill her with my bare hands, but then, Ellie Samuelson would be exposed.
Jenny Fullerton, sweet little Jenny from Cleveland, who had never left the United States and who was terrified of her former master? That girl would not be able to kill Sylvia.
If I fought back, my cover would be shattered and I wouldn’t be able to get to Hanoi. To Dylan.
But if I endured, Sylvia would beat me and try to break me. I knew she liked blood and pain and tears. She exulted in them. She would feed off my fear and my terror.
Fight or endure – those were my choices. Except, there were no choices.
The words I had said this morning to Lucien came back to me. Dylan is the only thing that matters. I had to endure. I had to believe that Alexander would return any moment. I had to trust that he would keep his promise to me. It was the only way.
I stayed silent, my eyes lowered to the floor. Though I never forgot anything, this feeling of fear that clenched at my gut had receded in the last few weeks with Alexander. Kneeling in front of him, I’d never felt this shiver of panic run through my body. The only tremors had been ones of anticipation and lust.
Not so now. Now, I was just afraid. There was no pleasure to be had.
“Follow me,” she said coldly. I started to rise and her stiletto ground into my back. “On your knees, slut. Slaves crawl.”
I obeyed her, struggling to control the fear and the anger. Dylan had called me a slut and a slave. For two years, he had raped and tortured me. It was only my need to see him dead that prevented me from fighting back.
Sylvia Anliker is lucky, I chanted in my head. I held on to the thought that if I wanted to, I could kill her with my hands. This time, I could fight back and win. I only endured because of the greater good, because of Dylan.
Yet as I felt her cold eyes boring into my back as I crawled up the stairs, it was hard to remember that thought. As she nudged me with her shoe into the playroom, it was hard to stifle the instinctive panic. When she reached for the cane, staying passive and obedient was the hardest thing I’d ever done in my entire life.
“Get naked,” she ordered. I complied without demur. Please, Alexander, I begged silently. Please come back. I need you.
Fear was clawing at my insides as she pulled out a spanking bench from the large closet where Alexander stored his equipment. Her hands caressed the canes and sent fresh terror through me. I had to protest now. If she tied me down, then my choice was stripped away. Restrained, there would be no choice other than to endure. This woman relished torture. She would enjoy keeping me in agony.
“Sir doesn’t cane me,” I said quietly.
She slapped my face hard. The sound of it ricocheted around the room and I fell back, losing my balance. “You worthless whore, did I give you permission to speak?” Her voice was menacing. “Open your mouth.”
She opened a drawer that Alexander had never touched and drew out a penis gag. I shivered as the toy came into view. The gag had a cord dangling from it and at the end, there was a rubber pump with which she could inflate the gag larger and larger, effectively choking me. I wouldn’t be able to scream for help.