Captive Heart

Tables Turned

There were times early on in our marriage when I felt most lost in my direction. I was a wife and mother, and underneath it all still very much his slave. Sometimes events would arrive to test me, and there were many moments when I felt lost and confused. I had for so long rescinded complete control, it was difficult to know when to seize it. However, this was one such instance.

Last night he became so ill I decided in a very unslave-like thought to take the task of Master Svend’s health into my own hands. Even if I angered him. I had decided he would not be working tomorrow at all if I could prevent it.

However, he did not know anything of my decision, it was pointless to plead with him to stop for he simply did not hear. He was so ill by bed time he merely climbed under the covers and let me put him to bed like a child. He fell asleep almost instantly, even with his difficulty breathing. I was glad I at least was recovering as I had caught the annoying seasonal malady first. I was still tired, but now I felt more capable of caring for him.

I waited until I was sure he was in deep sleep, oh his ankle or his wrist I deliberated, most undecided? It was heading towards midnight, already much too late to call his parents. I would have to call them early in the morning. I knew his responsibilities could not just stop, however, he had to have some rest. I touched him lightly, his skin was radiating fevered heat. He moved, and I paused do not let him wake up.

Ever so slowly I rolled the blankets from his ankle, exposing my target. He would be more comfortable this way even if it was riskier for me. Why was I doing this I cajoled, did I have a death wish? Did I not fear him as I did my previous Master? I really did not know the answer. I am sure he was just as capable of hurting me as Frej ever was, but I hoped he was possessed of more reason. I would never have attempted this with his younger sibling. The cold links passed about his ankle, the click of the padlock. He was going to be monstrously angry with me come morning.

I desired to sleep with him but I dared not, so I took some blankets and pillows and curled up on the lounge in the room beyond so I could hear him when he woke. I should just free him my mind reasoned before he knew of what I had done, but the other side of my conscience knew he needed to rest, and I hoped when he woke I could just reason with him. He was not his younger brother after all. I knew he had the capacity to reason, and he would behave in kind. He would see I was only looking out for his welfare.

Disjointed, troubled dreams were my lot, I woke numerous times unable for long moments to reason where I was. Finally yes, Master Svend’s lounge room would come to me and once more I would drift off into restless sleep.

It was unbelievably early, the phone was already ringing on his desk. These builders kept terrible hours. Oh lord don’t let it rouse him. My prayers answered I went into the office and muted the phone leaving the callers to the imposition of the answering machine. I located his mobile too and turned that off. He would be awake and angry soon enough. I sat in his large chair. I felt dwarfed in it. My eyes fixated on the phone that squatted on his desk before me. I still felt congested and tired. I needed to call his mother.

I held the receiver too tightly, silly really as she had always been so nice to me. I had nothing to fear from her. However, initiating that phone call was still difficult for me. I fretted listening to the dial tone. Her voice, kindly and soft answered. I stammered my few words. First the mandatory greeting and then right into the problem.

“He’s ill with the flu, he really can’t work today.” I pleaded.

She assured me in kind words telling me that her husband would fill in while he got better. She wanted to know if we needed help. I told her no we were quite alright, he just really needed business taken care of and I was looking after all his needs. She assured me not to fret and if we needed anything to call her. I mumbled my thanks and then returned to steal some more time on the couch before he awakened.

*****

“Lidia!”

I sat up, feeling at once sick and panicked. He sounded just like Frej, and his angry utterance from the room beyond took me back to another fearful age. The blanket clutched protectively about me I went into the room with shuffling steps to face his anger.

He had the covers thrown back and was looking at the chain about his ankle, and balefully at me. He cast me a challenging glassy-eyed stare clearly unimpressed, his skin still flushed with fever. For a panicked moment I wondered if he would break the bed, however his predilections were his own worst enemy. He had after all had that bed crafted for just such sinister purpose as holding a human bound to it.

His hand was on the chain, he was glaring at me. “Enough girl, free me I have work to do.” His demand was far from strong, but his low growl frightened me.

“You are ill Sir, you need to rest.” I hovered out of his periphery and hoped I could reason with him.

“ENOUGH!” He yelled, and the sound tore my ears.

It was all he could utter before dissolving into a bout of savage coughing, which covered my panicked squeal. I had never thought I could be this brave. Though I was wondering at this juncture was it truly worth it? One look at him told me though it was. Strong he may be, but even he was not indestructible. He was truly ill. Even in his angry protest, he was not strong.

“I called your parents.” I said patiently daring to come a little closer. “Your dad promised he will take care of work today while you rest, and tomorrow as well if need be.”

“It’s not your place girl!” He roared from the bed, his fists were balled tightly, and the veins stood out on his neck. “I have things to do, meetings, phone calls! I can’t just stop!”

If I had thought this would placate him I was wrong as he exploded into vile fury. Most of what he said was incoherent to me interspersed with wracking coughing. He swore, he threatened, and I trembled. I should not have done this but it was too late now. I was committed to my course. I thought maybe I should just retreat and call his mother again?

I didn’t know what to do. I stood transfixed as I listened to his threats, he was so worked up but I could see he was too sick to really fight. He paused, looked at me most distressed for some moments, and vomited ingloriously over himself.

The act broke his anger and he slumped down on the pillows beaten and clearly disgusted with himself. I dared to approach him then. His eyes were closed and he was breathing hard.

“It’s alright.” I said in reassurance, I touched his fevered skin, he was burning up.

“I’m sorry Lidia,” he whispered weakly.

He diffused my panic with his three words. He lay there and let me clean him up. It was strange to see him so vulnerable before me. He was always the provider, the protector, and now it was my turn to care for him.

“Sleep Sir,” I kissed him lightly on the cheek. His eyes were already closed and he barely responded with more than the tiniest sound. Since that time he has been a most gracious patient.

*****

Though he was inconvenienced by illness for a couple of mandatory day’s rest, he recovered swiftly. Unfortunately with it came his inquisition.

“We shall have no secrets Lidia.”

He looked at me across the tabletop in regal challenge, his long blonde hair framed his ruggedly handsome face. His gray eyes shone. The set of his mouth was grim. I looked to him in wordless fear, the color drained from my features. He knew of my crime.

I lowered my gaze I had no desire to challenge him or his powerful presence. I left my place and sunk to the floor at his feet, my lips brushing his toes in mute penitence, seeking forgiveness. He was quiet, so very quiet. I knew he was looking at me. I knew my lack of disclosure and his catching me out was enticing to him, both sexually and mentally. He fed on it just as his brother had done, perhaps all Masters did.

He let me sit, I was unsure what to do.Should I just admit my crime, or should I await his passing sentence? Old ways die hard, silence was my friend. He was recovered now and he was sharp. I knew his intellect could run clear rings around mine. I was swiftly learning unlike his younger brother I could not best him mentally either.

He stood, I did not move. He walked away from the table a short distance into the carpeted lounge area beyond. I watched his feet and waited for his lead. He paced the carpet as though he was deciding something.

“Come here,” he said finally.

He was pointing to the place at his feet. I did not rise, I crawled to him, and he smirked at me. He could have been Frej. My stomach twisted in tight knots.

Ready yourself for his hurt Lidia. You know the game, you know how it is played. He won, he caught you out and now you must appease him. A deep in-drawn breath of resignation. His words above me, were serious, blunt.

“You still call his name nights...Often.”

This was not at all what I had expected. I knew I dreamt of him, I did not know I spoke of him. I wilted under his stare armed with this knowledge.

“Stand up, look at me.” I climbed from my place, he put his hand beneath my chin and looked into my eyes.

“Never have you called me that word...”

The silence between us and something else, electricity.

“How can I lead you when you will not follow?”

I could not look at him, yet he held my face firm.

“I know I am just as guilty,” he said. “I catch myself comparing you incessantly. I shouldn’t, but I do.”

How I wished he had just found out about my blocking his access to my journal, at least it was straightforward, not like this convoluted matter.

He let go of my face, and I looked to the floor, he was walking about me in tight circles. My skin crawled beneath his sharp-eyed scrutiny.

“Who is he to you Lidia?”

A terrible question, it plunged me at once into a dark panicked void, and my mouth opened and closed. I found I could not answer.

“You still love him don’t you?”

The merest betraying nod in answer, and my hand was straying to cover his mark.

“Yes, I know,” he said. He did not sound bitter or angry. “I hope in time you can love me. However, love me or not you are and will always be mine.”

His words held such strict finality.

“It’s harder for you than I,” he said. “I can understand that. On the other hand she...........” He could say no more. He slapped his thigh with his hand and turned away from me. I was shaking.

He adjourned to his chair, the brown leather one with the studded arms. “Come here.” He requested in an icy voice. I complied. He took my wrist and before I knew it he had me tipped over his knee. “Tell me girl what is to stop me from making a profile on that site you write on, and gazing at your journal?”

I closed my eyes feeling so very, very stupid. He laughed heartily and then he hit me. I hated him then, I felt nothing but helpless hate. Hate for him, hate for his brother, hate for my father and every man I had ever known, but mostly hate for myself. He could hurt just with the palm of his hand like no man I had ever known. He made slapping a painful science.

He let me fall to the carpet red-faced, crying, and breathless when he was done. I looked up at him, his handsome face twisted with the semblance of a sad, wry smile. “No secrets Lidia, none. Understood? Now bring me some coffee like a good girl.”

Part of the punishment to serve him I deduced, hurting and wanting his love. He was reading the paper, did he notice me or did he not? I knelt holding his drink to him as he wished to be served, he looked over the paper at me but did not move. The proffered cup was burning my hands. He was ignoring my discomfort.

“Who am I, Lidia?” He remarked through the newspaper.

The smallest incoherent noise from me in answer. His gray eyes captured mine over the top of the newsprint and on seeing them something broke deep within.

“Master Sir, you are my Master.”

He was removing the coffee cup hastily from my hands, and not a moment too soon before I spilled it on the pristine white carpet.

He was on his knees holding me. I was crying profusely against his chest and into his hair.

“Never be afraid to admit it Lidia, never be afraid.” He was kissing the top of my head holding me tightly and close. “You really can tell me anything, anything at all.” I knew he meant what he had said.