Chapter 29 : Her Decision...
***Adrian...***
*This is my fault. I should've got rid of the clothes first.*
With a last uncertain glance at Pearl, I leave her in the bedroom to strip out of her clothes and jog to the bathroom to run the shower. Adjusting the temperature, I let the water fall and quickly run back into the room.
Only to find her sitting on the edge of the bed, naked. All of her hair gathered over her left shoulder, barely concealing her other breast. She stares vacantly in front of her, shaking like a leaf caught in a whirlwind. The cold is slipping into her bones.
*Shit.* This is not how I had planned this night to end. She can't fall sick on me now.
I'm stuck in the endless cycle of misjudgements, regrets and self-loathing, because I'm getting acutely aware of the mistakes I can't stop repeating, unintentionally or deliberately.
*How could I be so blind? How couldn't I see it before?*
Approaching her, I take her hand and help her rise to her feet. Her knees buckle and she falls into my arms, gasping. I catch her and quickly lift her up off the floor. Inside the bathroom, I carry her into the shower stall and set her down on the bench then back out to get rid of my own clothes. Down to my underwear, I reenter the stall and close the glass door.
Finding no outlet, the water vapours from the hot stream fog the glass and turn it opaque. Through the slight mist, I watch my Esclave with a heavy heart and depression clouding my thoughts. I watch my Esclave wilt in front of my own fucking eyes, feeling even more helpless then how I had felt when I couldn't save the first girl I had rescued and brought to the Rehab. It was way back when the estate was still in my mother's hands.
I know that I have to do something. I need to bring her spirit back to life. But so far, everything that I did to make her stable for me to proceed, had only led to more disastrous turns in events, with her getting worse and worse. She looks so fragile right now; I'm afraid to even touch her, as though she would fall apart if I did.
Left with no other option, I talk. Not from a place of supremacy or need for control and dominance over her mind and body. I speak from a spot of fear; the fear of a man losing the only hope of light and happiness in his life.
“When George called me and told me that he couldn't find you at the airport, I was sure you had seized the opportunity and escaped. Even after reassuring Mason that you would return to me, I thought you'd go back on your words and flee.” With no idea if she's even listening to me, I continue, “but I should've known better. I should've known that you're not like me.”
This captures her attention. She moves her head ever so slightly, shifting under the rush of water pelting her back.
“I was angry, not at you but at myself. I still am. And when I am angry, I make rash decisions. Because my anger has always been my weakness, a way for wayward thoughts and ideas to possess me and drive me forward for all the wrong reasons. I had decided that I would do all kinds of wrong things to you when I would get my hands on you. Then I saw you at the airport…” I trail off when she suddenly raises her head, looking at me through the thin fog with that same look in her eyes, dead and hollow as the drug-induced oblivion I spent half of my life in. “...And couldn't believe that I had let my thoughts plummet so far into hell.”
It sickens me, fills me with abhorrence for myself, to know that I did this to her. The exact same thing that my mother did to me, all the while telling me that it was for my own good.
I avert my gaze to the marble floor. It doesn't help. I can still sense her eyes on me, full of… emptiness. I swivel back to exit the stall and freeze with my back to her when her forlorn whisper trickles my ears.
“Do it to me now.”
I don't turn back to face her, as my heart begins to pound for a whole new reason. “Do what now?”
“Do the wrong things you wanted to do to me.”
This time, I dare to face her, my mind in a riot. “I can't. Now that I have you here with me… it's all gone. The anger, all of it. I have you and that's enough.”
“Not for me.” She climbs to her feet and manages not to drop back down. “That's not enough for me.”
“You want me to hurt you, huh? You’ve been running away from me for the same reason. Now you're asking for it?” I try my best to keep the hysterical edge out of my voice, but it certainly affects my temper. My guard goes up, pushing her out and away. “The cold has gone to your head. You're not well. You need rest. We'll talk tomorrow when you're yourself.”
I take hold of her hand. She twists out and away, allowing a bitter cold laugh to hurt my mind. “How do you expect me to become myself again, when I don't even know who I am!?”
“Get some sleep first, then you'll have all your confusions and questions about your origin sorted. Come on.” I move to grab her again. She skitters away, surprising me by her quick reflex when she doesn't wobble or black out. Shouldn't she be exhausted by now?
“I should be. But I'm not.” She retorts in a sharp voice and I realize that I had spoken the thought out loud.
“We are done here. Get out of the shower and dress up.”
“You would send me to bed.”
I don't bother to argue. She knows that's exactly what I'll do.
“Fine then. Do whatever you want.” I slip out of the stall and grab a towel for myself as I make my way out of the bathroom. Within the moment, I hear the water cut off, followed by silence.
I know I should not look back, but a part of me worries that in her current mental state, she might try something stupid. Turning around, I don't even have to lean back and peer inside the bathroom. Pearl stands right behind me, gloriously naked and dripping all over the floor.
“Go ahead, leave. Why stop now?” She taunts and I'm surprised to find something even darker than dawn sneaking into her eyes, filling the chocolatey rings around her dark pupil.
Holding onto the shredded pieces of my control, I don't say anything, just take off my towel and wrap it around her. She shrugs it right off and my hold loosens.
“Does it bother you to see me naked now? Or have you started to really care about me, huh?” Sarcasm drips from her hurtful voice, like the water droplets sliding over her smooth, flawless skin.
*Too flawless. So unreal.*
*A few scars here and there from a whip or a paddle may make her more real.*
I shake my head, anger and horror filing away the incredibly appealing thoughts. *Fuck, she’s getting under my skin.*
“Are you seriously trying to provoke me?” I take a step forward, erasing the last inch between us, hoping fear might help her to back off.
Her breathing shallows as she stares up at me, turmoil evident in her eyes, but refuses to back down. Instead, she presses her perky, round breasts against me, causing my erection to harden within the cage of my wet underwear.
‘‘I think I need it, Adrian.’’ She whispers in a delicate yet broken voice when I don't allow my expressions to change and satisfy her. In an unexpected move, she places her damp palms over my chest. All her attitude and boldness hidden away from me.
Her feminine voice, filled with evident desperation that I appreciate, almost steals my restraints when she says, ‘‘I need you to make me feel. Anything. I don’t want it. But I do need it. I need you to be my master, command my body like nobody else can. Show me how far you can go. I don’t care if I get hurt in the process. I just want to trust someone for once and not be led down.’’
I study my Esclave in astonishment, wondering where the hell all of this is coming from. Her vulnerable expression and body openly invites me to manhandle and menace her. For a moment, I think she's fucking with me to see if I'll jump at the opportunity. But as she maintains her dead stare, with all her cards laid out on the table, I realize she's being earnest.
*She really does want it.*
And no matter how screwed up it makes me, I feel glad that she wants what I can give her. Now, I just have to figure out how to transform her hatred for me into love, before I indulge her into my desires. I love her and I need her to know that during everything I do to her. It's no longer about just taking and giving.
It's about possessing and never being free again from each. I'll be truly helpless after I let her into my head and my heart. I won't be able to give her up like before, I'll chain her to myself if I have to. I won't be able to let her go if she decides she hates me after I'm done with her and wishes to leave. I'll keep her with me, even if she continues to hate me for the rest of our lives.
But looking at her state right now, I know that reasoning is not possible with her. She's in too deep. Whatever it is, which is swirling in her eyes and clouding her judgement, has taken over her consciousness. And I can see only one way to bring her out of it, which is going to be utterly painful for her, given my past observation of her pain tolerance.
*She's not made for this.*
But with proper guidance, I think I can mold her to be what I want and what she needs to be, in order to fit and survive without earning too many scars.
Backing away from her, I break away from her penetrating gaze and speak in a smooth, controlled voice, or at least I try to imitate that tone. “Go and put on a shirt dress from my closet with nothing underneath but your panties. I want all black.”
“But—” She begins.
“No objections, or I'll lock you in here. Got it?”
Silence, followed by a deep exhale. “Yes, Master.”
I lock my jaw. Refrain myself from making eye contact. “Last room on the left, at the end of the east corridor. You have 15 minutes. If you don't show up, then I'll escort you to New York myself first thing in the morning.”
With that clarified, I shut the door behind me and force myself to leave.
*The decision is hers now.*