Restraint (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (21 page)

“He’s no
t dead. But he will wish he were,” Ezra promises.

I shake my head
no as I slide up Ezra’s body until our faces are even. I look him dead in the eyes and mouth
He’s mine.

“Fair enough,” he allows. “H
owever, I did punish him. I gave Cort a taste of his own medicine. It’s doubtful that he will talk for several days.” Ezra sounds so menacing that I shiver. His arms come around me, holding me, trying to warm me when he was the one that made me feel cold.

I look my question at him.
What was the punishment?

Ezra
says, looking me straight in the eyes, “I skullfucked him,” he deadpans. He says this with no remorse or embarrassment, and absolutely no emotion, like shoving your cock down another man’s throat is nothing.

A silent laugh bubbles up my throat scraping it raw. Surely he is joking
.

“No, Katya, I did to him as he did to you.” He’s serious.

How can he do that? He’d have to enjoy it in order to do it.

“The stuff I said to you as Kimber was real. I have no issue with Cortez’s mouth.
It wasn’t the first time, nor was it the thousandth time that he’s sucked me off,” Ezra says this as if he’s ordering a coffee, not admitting that he’s gay… or admitting that he just brutalized his friend’s throat, and he doesn’t feel badly about it.

“
Anyway, after you left my office, I decided I’d better watch the security feed of what happened. Did you really think it was me?” The disappointment in his voice makes me sob. Not only did I mistake someone else for my Master, but he witnessed it- my violation.

I sob harder when I
realize the stalking fucker hid cameras inside my apartment. I have absolutely no privacy. Always being watched, every moment of my life inside this building is a violation, whether it be a violation of my privacy or my body. I live and work in a giant trap.

I stop sobbing and start hysterically laughing when I realize that I feel like I cheated on my master with his lover, that I cheated on my faithless master…
and his faithless lover. The whole lot of them has absolutely no morals, and it’s insanity that I’m behaving as I am.

“I’m so
rry. I set this up to happen. As my partner, Cortez wanted to be with you, too. I’d made a promise to Cortez and my father a year ago, and I broke my word. I wanted you to myself, just us. My fears and jealousy manifested into reality. Cort did this to get back at me. He is a very jealous person when it comes to me. He and I have been having a lot of problems- most of them are my fault. I would love to promise you that he didn’t mean to hurt you, but I’m not so sure. I think he resents you because of me. But I can assure you that he didn’t know that was the first time you’ve ever sucked a man. Yet again, that is my fault.” His voice is laced with shame, guilt, and remorse.

Ezra
soothingly strokes my cheek, and I flinch when he hits the fingertip bruises along my jawline. The joint feels cracked or at least displaced.

It was definitely
Ezra who played Kimber. Her story was that she and her friends were abducted as teens, brutally raped, and made to rape one another. It’s a story that will stick with me for life. I’d thrown up after she told me. The only way I dealt with it was to pretend it was a fictitious story and not reality. I feel sick knowing that Ezra, Cortez, and Aaron all starred in the events that were reality. It was bad when I thought it was three girls. I don’t know why, but three strong boys being victimized makes it worse.

“I told you my story was truth,
” Ezra softly says, a hint of sadness filling his voice. I wrap my arms around him and hug. All is not forgiven, but I understand where he comes from. I know the pain and shame of being a victim. I know how it makes you feel weak, and how you will do unmentionable things to remove the weakness.

“I know you wel
l. So nod if I am right. When Cort came to you, you thought he was me, but his voice sounded too hoarse.” I shake my head. “Did you figure out that it wasn’t me when he took your mouth or when he offered you no Aftercare?”

I mouth
the word
both.

“You
were worried that we were both playing Master Ez and we were switching back and forth.” I don’t even have to answer that one. Ezra draws me tighter in his arms and deeply sighs.

“
I need you to know that this game was never about learning my name. It has always been attached to my identity. It’s not whether or not I am Dr. Ezra Zeitler or Master Ez. It is about who I am to you. Who we are to you,” Ezra says, shaking me a bit. “The game resumes tomorrow, Kitty Kat. Until then, it’s just you and me- Ezra and Katya.”

Chapter Twenty-One

My feet pound the ground with such force that it reverberates up my legs
and down my spine. The sharp snap of twigs breaking under the impact of my feet echoes in my ears. My breath saws out my lips, exhale clouding the air across my face… as I run- run for my life.

Another tree in my path slows me down
, and I have to veer around it or smack headlong into it. Roots upheaved from the ground catch my toes and upend my balance. I catch my fall with outstretched palms and lunge forward gaining speed. Droplets of blood nourish the earth from deep cuts on my hands.

Branches slash my cheeks and thorny vines snag my skin and clothing. My mind is clear of all thought except escape
. My hands instinctually rise and fall, protecting me from the brutal violence of nature.

Four bodies, blurry from motion, charge me from different sides- herding me, running me to ground as a pack.

I’ve walked this path since I was a child. I know every dip, curve, and incline. Up until just moments ago, this was where I went to clear my mind and seek solitude. Now, I run for my life, hoping my knowledge will pull me through to the other side- safety.

They run in perfect synchronization, breathing in harmony, legs moving with the same gracefulness. If it weren’t me or them
, I may have found their symmetry breathtakingly beautiful.

I speed up on the descent down the ravine. My sneakers skid on soft dirt and pebbles roll me
, making it nearly impossible to stay upright. I catch my fall several times by grabbing roots and branches. I acknowledge no pain from my palms that are rapidly beating with the pounding of my heart. I slide down the embankment on my rear. By the time I reach the bottom, my shorts are shredded and damp from blood.

They allow me no rest, for they are closing in from all sides. They try to pull me off my course. It’s working. I am no longer on the trail. I am beside it
, going at an angle. The one in charge is maneuvering me to his destination and I am powerless to stop it.

The primal, animal side of my brain already recognizes its capture. My body floods with adrenaline. A quaking rocks my entire body
, slowing my pace. I shiver in the cold, even as my body erupts with sweat.

My logical brain will not give up. Never give up. I will fight to my very death. My mind spins escape routes and defense plans as I am led, pushed, and driven by the unit.

My only escape is the lake. If I can get to the water, I can swim to safety. Like the trail, I know everything about the lake. The tree canopy casts rays of light for my path. The crystalline waters glisten invitingly, beckoning me towards its secure embrace.

The leader comes into focus just off to my right. I stumble when I see the fierce expression on his face, the look of triumph as he gains on his prize.

“It won’t be long, boys,” his smug voice sounds like broken glass to my sensitive ears.

He is in easy reach now. I veer to the left, away from his grasp, and miscalculate the trajectory of the other hunters. Arms enclose me from the side. I close my eyes in defeat.

“I’m so sorry,” a young voice whispers against my hair.   

I wake to a blood-
curdling scream…

They’re back- the memories. I’ve managed to keep them at bay for almost t
welve years. I’ve only spoken them twice, and never in their entirety: once at the trial and the second time at the parole hearing. Both times were unemotional accounts of the event.

I’ve lived my life avoiding all things that bring the memories to the fore. I’ve never cried or screamed or lashed out for the injustice dealt to me. There is no reason. You survive- endure. To give in to the emotions means they win. I was victimized for a few short hours of my life. I am not a victim. I didn’t break.

Twice the memories have corroded my thoughts in just a few short days: during my almost orgasm with Kayla and in the wee hours of this morning. That is my issue- their reoccurrence- not the memories themselves, or so I tell myself. I just want to put them back in their box and never let them out.

I’m never without the thoughts of my rape, but they are blurry copies of the actual event. I see bits and pieces with a film cast over the image. A scent or a sound will bring on five seconds of my ordeal with perfect clarity.

The reality of it is that I don’t remember my time on the forest floor. Oh, I know what happened to me, but my mind protects me from the minute details of it. I am thankful for my subconscious. This morning’s dream was the first time I was thrust back to the forest floor and made to relive the event as if it were happening in real time.

It’s what Dr. Jeannine has been pushing me to do. It’s what I’ve refused to acknowledge.
She says I will not heal without accepting the details. I think she is wrong and my subconscious agrees.

I blame
my actions on my lack of sleep and my frayed emotions. Both make me extremely ballsy. Even I can’t believe I am about to do this. I heard through the office grapevine that Adelaide Whittenhower is in the building.

I don’t know why the game is still on. I know that Kayla Cummings is my
so-called submissive, Temptation, but in reality Master Ez is just loaning her out for me to play with. I know that Cortez Abernathy isn’t Master Ez because Dr. Ezra Zeitler is. I know that Ezra pretended to be Kimber to promote his stalking. I know my apartment and job were provided by Ezra. I know that every move I make is seen because the bastard is filming me. I know that Ezra, Cortez, and Aaron were victims just like me. So why isn’t the game over? What else do I need to know? Or is it over when my queen captures his king on the chessboard? Ezra said the game is over when I know his real identity- the identity of who he is to me.

Never the less, my bad behavior is about to up the ante…
With a huge, cleansing breath, I enter Zeitler’s office without knocking.

Jesus, am I really doing this? I have nothing to lose, well, I guess my job. I feel like a suicide bomber. If I lose my job, I can go home and the memories will lock themselves away until the next parole hearing.

What I’m about to do will test Ezra’s patience. I don’t want to play a game, I just want him to tell me what the fuck is going on. Who is Ezra to me, and why is he doing this shit? Madness, insanity is the only excuse for my behavior.  Regardless, Ezra is a cheating bastard. I may out Ezra and Cortez to Adelaide since they both are playing outside their own bedrooms… and both are trying to play in mine. Both are corrupting my ideals. It’s not being unfaithful if Adelaide and Divina know that their partners are sleeping around… but I would’ve loved a choice in the matter.

My only excuse for my actions is that I subconsciously want to be beaten. Physical pain is better than the torture running through my mind. Overall, I feel resolved. Go ahead… beat the shit out of me, but please don’t make me
cum. It brings the memories and I want them to just go away. Bombs away- I release my inner bitch.

Ezra stares wide-
eyed at me from his desk.

Ade
laide stands behind Ezra with a possessive hand on his shoulder. Their framed engagement announcement and picture hangs directly behind them on the wall. What a beautiful couple they make. I wish they’d have left me out of their relationship. But somewhere deep inside me, a lonely girl cries, and she is screaming out her pain. She never feels like she is good enough- always someone’s dirty little secret.

Any part of Adelaide
that touches Ezra, needs to fry in acid. Great, my inner bitch is territorial.

“What up, Z-man,” I slur.
I flop down on the chair facing his desk. I’m wearing a skirt, and neither has to imagine what my panties look like. The black lace flashes like a billboard
open for business.
My conscious is thrilled that my lacy panties are boy-shorts instead of a thong. Yeah, even on days I want to act like a skank, skank panties do not manifest in my dresser.

“Are you feeling alright, Katya?” I almost lose my nerve hearing the concern in Ezra’s voice- almost.

“Late night, ya know- the usual,” I salaciously purr. The usual: nightmares of running through the woods being hunted by gang rapists. This is why Master Ez doesn’t frighten me. I have already lived through the worst, everything else pales in comparison. Even the sound of that in my own mind gives me pause. I’m losing it. I should abort my mission-
operation, game over
.