12th May Cont...
I can't just sit here pretending to be OK. But I'm too scared to do anything else.
Because all the time you're sitting at your easel painting, I know you're thinking about the video you just watched of me playing around with three other people less than 24 hours ago.
What the hell was I thinking but I wasn't thinking – that's the whole point – and it was Roxy, who gave me that last blue pill. And my legs did turn to jelly, and I did feel like my mind was floating away – all the things that you described, are all the things my body felt.
Did Roxy do that deliberately? Did she give me something so that I wouldn't make decisions in the way I would normally make decisions?
Would I have done what I did in the cage if I hadn't taken that pill? Or would I have remembered your face, heard your words in my head, saying "You're mine"?
If I hadn't taken that little blue pill, would I have backed back out of the cage, walked down the stairs and got myself into a cab home?
Or would I have done exactly what I did? Is falling into the vibration of desire, with three other people I hardly knew something I would normally do?
It's just not me. Threesomes, let alone foursomes, have never been my thing. All that mixed chemistry of emotions. I can just about handle one other person, in addition to my own emotions.
That's why I've always had a Daddy or a Sir, because what I crave is intense intimacy. Intense emotion. Being the favorite, being the chosen one, and choosing one other to adore – even as they destroy me – even as I am left to build myself anew.
I don't do multiples. I want a relationship where I am the sub and you are the dom, and nothing and no one can shake us. Where we have each other's backs, where we protect each other.
I kind of had it with Daddy Jameson...but it was different to this...to us...to you.
In someways Jameson's the father I never had – caring, nurturing, proud. Oh, he can dominate – make me his – when he wants to – but he's also happy for me to fly free. Never jealous and always proud .
But you, you need me to be yours. As much as I am needy to be yours. This constant ache I have for you when you're not here, that's all part of it. Part of my desperate desire for you.
You do own every part of me now. And even though I know I should be running in the other direction - because you are from the same criminal underworld as me - I am not.
Even though there is a minute possibility that under exactly the right terrible pressure, you could rat me out – I am still not running. I am still here.
I put down my pencil. Push my typewriter to the floor with a massive crash and stand from the chair. The chair falls behind me. I do not turn around to look at you.
'Amber?' Your voice has a warning tone. I pick up a pencil from my pot, snap it in half, then pick up another, and another, and another, until all eleven pencils are snapped.
I hear your chair scrape on the floor boards, see your reflection in the window as you stand. Your hands stay still at your side.
I pick up a pot of ink, unscrew the lid, hold the pot in the air and pour it over my desk, and then another, and then another, this one I pour over my head.
The ink drips down my face, mixing with my tears.
'Turn around, Little Doll.' Your voice is deeper than I've ever heard it, a thick syrup of command.
I turned to you, black ink, dripping down my face – I am as brittle as a candy cane.
'Knees. Now,' you say. Still not moving.
I drop to my knees, head, lowered, eyes on your feet.
'Are you submitting to me,' you say, and your tone is Vanta black.
'Yes, Sir.' As dark as your tone is – mine matches it.
'And are you going to listen to me, do as I say, let me protect you?'
'Yes, Sir.'
I hear your breath, deepen and slow, I dare to look up, and your eyes are soft.
'Crawl to me,' you say.
I crawl to you, kneel at your feet. You run your hand over the top of my head, and say, 'Good girl.'
I look up at you, I can hardly breathe. The relief of those two words, and of being at your feet with you, looking down at me. The way you look at me is indescribable. Fire and air, earth and water, all contained in your expression, along with some other element I have no words for. You are impossible to read.
'Thank you, Sir.'
You groan, and an involuntary, 'Fuckkkkk,' comes out of your mouth.
I know not to celebrate – I know there is still work to be done to secure this thing we have. But secure it, I will. I'm not going to lose you, because of some little blue pill, and a fair weather friend. I decide on you.
It's you I will place my trust in. I will put myself in your hands, and to hell with everyone else. Roxy. Freya. The not-hot-barman. Roxy's exes. I have no idea who any of those people are, or what any of last night meant and I don't care. I want you and I'll burn down every other thing in order to have you.
And so I say, 'It was Roxy that gave me the pill, Roxy that pulled me into the cage, and without that pill, I don't think I'd have done it. But I still don't want you to go after her. Please. If she's part of something – some bigger plan - and you go after her, wheels will be put into motion that no one can stop. You have my trust, you have my submission, now I'm asking you to please trust me on this. There are things at play that I don't understand but as soon as they become clear, I will tell you.'
You rock back on your feet. I can see you desperately trying to contain your monsters and then you do something I never in a million years believed you'd do.
You drop to your knees facing me, and say, 'OK. I won't put anything into motion that can't be stopped. I promise. But that means it's you and me now, Amber. We can't trust anyone else. Not anyone at all, do you understand?'
And I know, even without you saying it, that you're not talking about Roxy, or Freya, or any of the others – you're talking about Jameson. You're talking about daddy.
'I understand,' I say, feeling like I've broken a promise that I've held forever. 'Just you and me.'
You look me in the eye, and I feel the connection of you all the way through to my soul, as you say, 'We play the game with everyone else, but not each other. And when we're both ready, we can tell each other what game we're in. But for now, know that whatever happens, if we fall, we fall together. Me and you.'
'Yes, Sir.'
You push my hair from my face, and say, 'I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, Little Doll.'
I nod, and say, 'Except you, Sir.'
A smile kicks at your lips, as you say, 'Except me, Little Doll. But only if you've been a very bad girl, only if you deserve it, and only if you want it.'
'I want it,' I whisper. 'Please, I need it.'
Your eyes flare, your monsters ripple under your skin as you twist my hair around your hand, raise yourself to standing, and say, 'Be careful what you wish for, Little Doll....'