Behind Closed Doors (On Hold)

Hurtful Words

The words struck a chord with me; and not in a good way. I might have my body touched for a living, but having no control over it is not something I particularly want.  At work, we at least have some control of the fact that if the client gets too dominant over us that we feel under pressure or in danger, we have people conveniently on stand by if anything like that happens; which it rarely does.

Although I work in the industry that is frowned upon, you could say that I worked in the high-end part of it.  Being dominated in any context isn't something I've tried but from experience, I feel more comfortable being the dominatrix. There's just something about being able to control and manipulate someone into doing something that you wish to see them do. The best thing is when you tease them just to get on their very last nerve.

However, the feelings and thoughts swimming in my head are nothing compared to the feelings I felt then. Thier completely the opposite.

Carrying me on his hip, he starts to bounce me on his hip while walking down a corridor. The corridor is dark and smells like it hasn't been cleaned in over a decade. The decor of it was strange though. I would have expected to see what I saw in the other room I was in; cobbled walls with layers on layers of grime from heavens know what. Dirt everywhere you look swallowing anything of colour with it. But this corridor was anything but that.

Although the dirt and decay remained, it was in far less quantity than what it was in the prison cell. The walls were covered in flowery wallpaper that peeled away at the edges, revealing the damp wall behind. The damp on the walls almost took over the whole wall but it was still clear to see that there is wallpaper clinging to its last life line. Paint chips were scattered on the floor from the rotting skirting boards on to the hard oak floor that looked to be newly varnished.

What's the point of refurbishing the floor but not the whole corridor?

The over head lighting dimly lit are way just enough to see a few steps in front of us. Looking up at the monster, he doesn't seem fazed by the darkness, as if it's easy to see where he's going in this sea of darkness. I feel him tense from under me. 

Studying him closer I notice he has a scar running horizontally over the middle of his nose. The scar seems faded and you can tell it's old, but the deep groves tell me it will never heal fully, always leaving a trace of itself.

I wonder how he got that?

As if sensing my gaze on him he turns to look me in the eye but before we can make eye contact, I turn away and look down the corridor. I can feel his lingering gaze on me as we continue to walk down this never ending hall way. How long is this thing? A few minutes pass by before I finally feel his burning gaze leave the side of my face.

Now, you might be wondering why I'm not trying to fight him and not trying to escape. Well, you try and be in a cramped cage as long as I did. Do you know what that feels like? No! So don't complain. I still don't have all the circulation fully through all my limbs and am completely drained of energy right now, so I'm not going to use the little energy I have and get a couple of steps that is just idiotic. I would rather save all my energy for the right moment and make it all the way out of here in one go. Although, at this rate, it'll be a couple of days. Being deprived of food and water really has its consequences.

Jolting me out of my thought is his abrupt stop out side a large Victorian white door. Just like before the doors paint is chipped almost everywhere. Without even looking at me he opens the door and we are met with nothing but darkness. Again? He must really like the dark. This room was smaller than the other room. I could tell with the way my breathing didn't echo around me as much compared to the other rooms. The sound of a lock behind us was the only thing I heard other than both are breathing.