He lifted her in his strong arms and brought her into the bathroom. Setting her gingerly on the toilet seat, he opened the tap. Filling the tub with hot, steaming water, he led her to it and helped her get in. He was as gentle and solicitous as a father with her, rubbing her back and soaping her cropped hair. He muttered words of endearment and then she began to cry again, hot, cleansing tears.
She didn't really know what was happening to her any more. Here she was, raped, beaten, abused, humiliated by this awful man for the space of a never ending night. Then, instead of bolting from the apartment as soon as he let her go, she stayed and let him bathe her. It was so peculiar! She felt as if she had no will besides his, no power save that which he gave her. She could only sit helplessly in this hot tub, crying bitterly and waiting for him to comfort her.
Hank said nothing, but continued to wash her carefully. When she was done, he helped her out of the tub and dried her off. He wrapped his thick, plaid bathrobe around her bruised body and toweled off what was left of her hair.
"Would you like some breakfast?" he asked.
"Yes, Master."
"What would you like?"
"Anything you make."
"Some eggs?"
"Fine."
"Toast?"
"Yes, Master."
"Coffee?"
"Anything you are eating, I will eat."
Hank moved about the kitchen on quiet cat feet. He had slipped into a pair of jeans and a tee shirt. Valerie was amazed at the transformation. Last night, he seemed like the cruelest of jailers, a menacing madman, prepared to cut her throat. This morning, he was a lamb, caring tenderly for the very wounds that he had inflicted. She couldn't figure it out.
He finished the breakfast and placed it before her.
"Eat!" he commanded gently.
"Why not?"
"Help me!"
"What?"
"You must help me, Master!"
"All right," he said and began to bring forkfuls of food to her waiting mouth. He had to tell her when to chew and when to swallow, or the food would sit untouched in her mouth. All the while, her eyes held his in a rapt gaze.
It was Saturday and neither one of them had to work. Hank had planned to tidy up his apartment. He turned to Valerie and said, "You can go home now if you want to."
"I don't!"
"What do you want then?"
"To stay here with you, Master."
"I see. And do what?"
"It doesn't matter."
"If I let you stay, you must obey my every wish, my every command. Do you understand me?"
"Oh, yes, Master!"
"Otherwise, I will be forced to send you away!"
"No!"
"All right then. You gave me your word," he said, going towards the bathroom. "I need to clean up today," he continued.
"I can help!"
"Will you clean the bathroom?"
"Oh yes!"
"Fine, but wait here for a moment." He returned with a pair of handcuffs. Gently, he slipped one wrist into it and snapped it shut. He led her into the bathroom and fastened the other metal cuff to a pipe beneath the sink. The room was small enough so that she could maneuver around without too much difficulty.
"The cleaning things are in that cabinet. Do what you can, but try hard to please me!"
"Yes, Master!" she sang out as he went into the other room.
Valerie tidied up as best she could with her one free arm. She was able to get down on her hands and knees and scrub the floor. She could also reach the tub, the toilet and the bottom of the sink, with all its pipes. Things that were high up, however, were impossible and she fretted because she couldn't finish the job.
They spent the week-end together, in much the same fashion. Hank would order Valerie around and she would obey. He would also be forced to do things for her, or she simply wouldn't do them herself. She had been so upset about not being able to finish the bathroom that she had begged him to tie her up and whip her. He hadn't wanted to, but realized finally that it was the only way to quiet her. As he beat her, he began to grow hard and hot and had ended up fucking her as she crouched, bound and gagged, on the kitchen floor.
By Sunday night, however, she showed no signs of wanting to leave and he grew worried. Hank had done this routine often with women and the results were always pretty much the same. The most stuck-up, arrogant bitchy women would always yield in the end. He would tie them up and abuse them and then leave them for a while. Their spirits were always broken in a night or two at most. After that, they seemed to adore him and be ready to do whatever he told them. Usually, however, this meant that he and the woman would have an affair for a while and she would be willing to submit to him sexually for the duration of their time together.
Valerie was slightly different though. She only wanted sex when it was coupled with abuse and she seemed to want to stay with him night and day. He mentioned work to her, in an effort to make her come to her senses.
"Val, you know that tomorrow is Monday and you have to be at the office. Maybe you should go home and change your clothes."
"I don't want to go to work."
"But Val, you have to."
"Why can't I stay here and be with you?"
"Well, I have to go to work."
"I can stay at home and clean up for you."
"Valerie, what about Blair?"
"Blair?"
"Yes, Blair!"
"Well, what about him?"
"Valerie, he's your boss!"
"So I'll quit."
"He's your lover!"
"Not anymore!"
"Valerie!"
Hank became quite exasperated. He liked Valerie's body and she was without a doubt a great lay, but he didn't want to be playing out a fantasy with her for the rest of her life. He paced up and down his apartment, wondering what in the world he was going to do with her.
Finally, he got her into her clothes and decided to take her home in a taxi. He knew that if he put her in one by herself, she would say nothing. No, he would have to take her home and then leave her there. Maybe the more familiar environment would clear her foggy head. Something had snapped in her that night when he tied her up and he sought desperately to undo the damage he had done. "Val come on. We're going out," said. She didn't ask where, but followed him obediently to the door. On the corner of 79th Street, he hailed a cab. Giving the driver the address, they climbed in.
He took her upstairs and opened the door. Switching on the light, he sat down. She made no move to offer him anything, or to sit herself. She behaved as if she had never seen this place before in her life. He sat in a chair awkwardly and then got up. He paced around and finally said, "Look Val, I have to go now."
"Fine, we'll go."
"No, no, you don't understand. You are staying here. I am going home, to my place."
"No!"
"Yes, Val. You have to stay here now. This is your home. Tomorrow, you are going to get up and go to work. Is that clear?"
"No! You can't leave me!"
"I can and I will!"
"Master!" she wailed and her voice broke.
"Val…" he soothed.
"Don't leave me! Don't leave me!"
"Val, I'll run your bath water."
"Don't leave! Don't!!" she said, completely hysterical by now.
"Valerie, sh, don't cry!"
"If you leave me, I'll kill myself! I will! I WILL!" and her sobs rang out, piercing the night.
Hank was very upset. He felt that he couldn't leave her, not after what he had done to her. At the same time, he grew worried. Maybe he could stay here with her tonight, but he couldn't live here with her forever.
Valerie sat on the floor sobbing, her face pressed into the rug. He tried to help her rise, but she wouldn't budge.
"Come on, get up off the floor," he coaxed.
"Promise me you won't leave me! Promise me that! I'll do anything for you, anything!"
"I won't leave you, Val. I promise I won't leave you."