The Journal (Her Master's Voice) (6 page)

A
s he came back he knew she would have felt abandoned. Painful though it was for him too, this had been his intention. He had needed to give her time to think about what she had done, to stew in her own guilt. There was nothing more he could have done last night. He knew that she would go through the self recriminations perfectly well on her own. By being there, he would have only reassured her and that was not what he wanted to do. To leave her alone, to be apart from her when she was at her most vulnerable would have been the cruellest cut of all.

He took his time turning the key in the lock as if further to test her patience.

He entered the study without a word. She was where he expected her to be, kneeling on the study floor. He stood silently, looking down at her, his hands behind him. He knew she would be longing to speak, to ask how his day had been, anything, but he also knew she would not dare. He took a deep breath in.

“Look at me.”

She did, without a moment’s hesitation.

“What would you do if you were me?”

She looked startled at the question and tried to answer him but simply stammered, obviously unable to think what to say. Quickly tiring of her efforts to speak, he jabbed back sharply at her...

“This would be a good time to use those things we call
words
we’ve often talked about. Speak, woman, speak. Make an utterance. What would you do if you were me?”

“Sir, I don’t know, I can’t... I can’t think in those terms, Sir, I don’t think I understand what you want me to say...”

Again, he cut her off.

“My, aren’t we wonderfully articulate today? Let me try a different tack; do you think I have punished you enough?”

Her answer was instant and instinctive.

“No, Sir, no. You haven’t punished me enough, Sir. What I did was so awful, Sir, I expect...”

This time a sublimely placed cough was enough to silence her.

“Come here.”

With all the grace she could muster she stood and approached him. She was gazing into his eyes all the time, never a flicker of a sideways glance.

“Then we are in agreement. Take off your panties.”

Without even a second’s pause, she did so. He took them from her and pushed them straight into her mouth. He had a pair of her tights in his pocket which he pulled out and began stuffing into her mouth until she resembled a hamster. He pushed them into her cheeks and as soon as she thought there was no more room, he found more room.

From another pocket in his immaculate suit, he produced a roll of duct tape. He tore off piece after piece, placing each layer in a slightly different place over her mouth, sealing and further packing the tights and panties.

He took one pace back from her, then with one single swoop of his hand he slapped her face, more to humiliate her than to hurt her. She managed to maintain eye contact for the relentless torrent that was to follow.

“You filthy cunt. You will never, ever do that again. Or anything like it. Am I making myself abundantly clear?”

She nodded but before she could have any thoughts of the humiliation being over, he ripped open her dress, exposing her breasts. He smacked them, too. Over and over and with no sign of a pattern or rhythm to his method. Again and again his hands made contact, sometimes just catching her fiercely erect nipples.

He grabbed her by the hair and tossed her from side to side. When she stumbled and was about to fall, he grabbed her hair again and pulled her up. Her screams muffled by the makeshift gag, his hands grasped ever tighter. Then he tossed her onto the floor where she lay for the longest time, not daring to move.

“Get out. Get out of the apartment and stand in the street. I’m not done with you.”

Her mascara all over her face, huge clumps of duct tape still over her mouth, she had no choice but to obey. As she reached the door, hesitating on the step, he kicked her ass further and further into the driveway. He opened the trunk of his car.

“Get in,” he said coldly. “Get the fuck in.”

She did so and the hatch was slammed down. He started the engine and the car moved off...

B
y the time I awoke fully, it was a bright, crisp morning. I quickly showered and changed my dress. I spent a long time cleansing my face of the mess from the night before and putting on fresh make up, trying to hide my puffy eyes from so much crying. I wanted to look my best for him for his return. He would return, I told myself. He had to.

Then I remembered what he had said – ‘Punish you more? Yes, I shall certainly do that.’ I closed my eyes, not wanting to think about what else he might do, and then found a glimmer of hope as I realised that if he was going to punish me more, he had to come back. I opened my eyes and finished putting on my mascara with a shaky hand. After I was done, I checked every last chore all over again.

I laid out his clothing for the day as I always did, as if he were there, and then went into the kitchen. I tried to eat breakfast, but could not manage to swallow even a bite of toast, despite not having eaten the night before. I made fresh roasted coffee in the pot in case he wanted some when he came back, but I couldn’t manage to drink any of that either. I knew I didn’t need to but I hurried through the apartment again for one more check that everything was as it should be.

The morning dragged on glacially slowly. Then I heard the car engine. I knew it was him. I rushed to the window to confirm it. He was home. If nothing else, he was home.

I almost ran into the study and knelt on the floor, where he would expect me to be. I was shaking all over again, wishing I had time to check the apartment just one more time. I kept telling myself over and over ‘It will be okay. It will be okay. Please let it be okay.’

I heard his key turning so slowly in the lock that I thought it would never end and then he was in the hall and walking toward me. He had had a haircut and he looked wonderful. He always kept his suit for work in the car and he had changed into that.

I lowered my eyes, suddenly shy, able to see only his shoes as he stood in front of me, contemplating me for a long moment.

“Look at me.”

I did, hope showing in my eyes as I gazed at him. His face was expressionless but still almost impossibly handsome.

“What would you do if you were me?”

He was asking me? I could barely splutter out coherent words. This was the last thing I expected to hear. I tried to think what to say. What on earth would I do? I couldn’t begin to imagine. I started to speak several times, trying to give him any kind of answer, but I couldn’t.

He snapped at me.

“This would be a good time to use those things we call words we›ve often talked about. Speak, woman, speak. Make an utterance. What would you do if you were me?”

I looked up at him, pleadingly.

“Sir, I don’t know. I can’t... I can’t think in those terms, Sir. I don’t think I understand what you want me to say...”

He interrupted me.

“My, aren’t we wonderfully articulate today? Let me try a different tack; do you think I have punished you enough?”

I didn’t hesitate this time. My mouth opened and I answered him almost before I even had time to think.

“No, Sir, no. You haven’t punished me enough, Sir. What I did was so awful, Sir, I expect...”

An eloquent cough from him was enough to prevent me saying anything else.

“Come here.”

I rose as gracefully as I could, my muscles protesting from everything I had gone through the day before. I walked towards him, gazing into his eyes all the time, not wanting to look away even for a second.

“Then we are in agreement,” he said. “Take off your panties.”

I reached under my dress and removed my panties, balancing carefully to free them from the high heels of my shoes.

I had barely straightened up when he grabbed them from my hand and pushed them into my mouth. I could taste myself on my tongue again but this time I was not aroused; not even a little. I was too worried about whether we would be able to recover from this and too busy wondering what he was going to do to me.

He took a pair of my tights from his pocket and pushed them into my mouth after the panties. My tongue was flattened right down and I was sure he wouldn’t be able to squeeze any more into my mouth, but he did, and then he duct taped my mouth shut, placing more and more pieces of tape across my face until he was satisfied.

He stepped back just a little and I wondered if that was it. Was this to be my only punishment? Thoughts were giddy in my mind and I really should have known better.

He drew his hand back and slapped me across my face, not hard but it was enough to make me want to look away in shame. I didn’t look away though. I wanted to give him everything; I wanted him to be able to see every last reaction.

“You filthy cunt. You will never, ever do that again. Or anything like it. Am I making myself abundantly clear?”

My eyes filled with tears again at his words but I didn’t drop my gaze. I nodded quickly, eagerly; hoping he knew I would never do such a thing to him again.

Without warning he grabbed the front of my dress and tore it open all the way to my waist, revealing my bare breasts to his gaze. He paused for a second and then began to spank my breasts hard, over and over again; sometimes catching my nipples, sometimes not. The pain was excruciating and I wanted to cover my breasts and protect myself. It was a struggle to hold my hands away, but I knew I daren’t risk any more of his anger and I clasped them behind my back.

He grabbed my hair, close to the scalp and threw me from side to side like a rag doll. Several times I almost fell but he simply grabbed my hair again to steady me. I wanted to scream, I wanted to yell; perhaps I even thought to beg him to stop but the gag held me silent. Then he threw me to the floor as if I was nothing. I lay still; feeling brought low and degraded, as if I were a worthless bundle of rags.

It was not over yet. Again he spoke and this time my blood ran cold.

“Get out. Get out of the apartment and stand in the street,” he yelled.

I scrambled to my feet hoping I had misheard, hoping that he wasn’t really going to throw me out.

“I’m not done with you,” he said, and I breathed a huge sigh of relief. I didn’t care what else he did at that point. I didn’t care at all, just as long as he still wanted me.

I reached the front door and hesitated on the step suddenly remembering that my dress was torn and my breasts exposed for anyone to see. I glanced onto the drive, wondering how I could ever have thought that the humiliation might be over but he kicked me onto the path, pushing me further down the driveway towards his car. He opened the trunk.

“Get in,” he said icily. “Get the fuck in.”

I hurried to obey, settling myself into the uncomfortable boot of the car. He slammed the hatch down hard. Shivering and shaken to my core, I heard the engine start and the car moved off...