But I take pleasure in the game. I can’t deny it. I love the smell of apprehension and the dilating of pupils from fear. And my enjoyment of it has nothing to do with Mr. Black, that’s all me, Victor. It’s the sadist in me. However, it’s not the deliverance of pain that I crave, it’s the feeling of authority and power that surges through me when I have complete control over another human being. It’s the gift of submission given willingly that I can’t live without.
I can’t give that up. I won’t. I couldn’t even if I tried. There has to be some way to find a middle ground for what my mind craves and my body needs; some way to accept that part of me that I find objectionable and make it acceptable.
Where there’s a will there’s a way. Elsa has taught me that. And I will find a way to come to terms with my inner darkness. What other choice do I have? None if I want to keep my sanity. But what good is my sanity if Elsa isn’t there to catch me when I fall? And I will fall. I’m already falling. Slowly at times, uncontrollably at others, but always, steadily I’m descending downward in an endless spiral... I pray she catches me.
18: Consistent
Two days had passed since Victor’s horrific revelation and the day that would go down in history as Elsa’s worst and most cherished time with him. The way he took care of her, his kindness, his attention… Those moments would forever be etched into her memory. The rest of that day, she just wanted to forget.
As nice as her recollections of his gentleness were, she was still on edge after being attacked, and found it hard to concentrate at work. Mr. Black’s rules were still running in the background, adding to her anxiety. The game wasn’t over yet; she knew that much. If there was anything she could count on, it was Victor’s consistency to always keep her guessing and Mr. Black’s ability to find new ways to torment her.
When she received a mysterious text message to meet him at a historic hotel downtown, she knew it was time to repay him. After what he had shared with her, it was the least she could do for him. The very least.
The message read very similar to the one on the night of her birthday, but she doubted there would be any male-on-male action again in her near future after her hissy fit. Too bad for her. Thinking back, she had been an asshole for having interrupted what could’ve been the hottest thing she ever witnessed.
She set aside her work project early and texted her brother. She didn’t have the courage yet to tell either her mother or brother about the attack, especially after Nick found out about Victor.
In her message folder, three more texts popped up from Nate. She stared at her phone for a long moment before deciding not to open them or respond. His visit to her house the previous night hadn’t gone well. After reading her name in the paper about the assault, they ended up in a heated argument when he demanded answers. What did he want to hear? Sure as hell not the truth.
What was the truth, anyway? She had lost track of what she had made up in her head and what was reality. Victor always had that effect on her - blurring her mental ability to make sense of things and wrecking her ability to see logic. He had done it before and this time was no different. Even though she had tried, her time with him was turning out exactly the way it had before – with her falling for Victor and their inevitable demise looming in the background. All it would take for the game to end would be for Mr. Black to rear his nasty head and do something irreversibly fucked up.
Like threatening to burn her with a cigarette or hitting her again.
The memory still lingered like an unwanted lover. Like Nate. And like Victor. Both of them wanting what she couldn’t give them… her heart. Both of them not giving her what she needed… their love.
“Fuck my life,” she grumbled under her breath.
It really was fucked and so was she, both literally and figuratively speaking.
*
An hour and a half later, Elsa arrived at the hotel.
Her instructions were to shower at the Washington Hotel and dress in the attire Victor had provided for her. The front desk had a key waiting for her, but she was too taken aback at the beauty of the lobby to pay attention to what the clerk was telling her. The many times she had driven past the hotel, it reminded her of a castle she had seen in pictures when she was a child. Taking in her lush surroundings, she tried to imagine what her fate for the evening was. The elevator ride to her top floor suite had her nerves on edge as she tried to mentally prepare herself for repayment. She hoped it was Victor coming out to play and not Mr. Black.
When she entered the room, she was staggered at the opulence and elegance within the suite. With surroundings like this, she would rather spend the night in than go anywhere. That feeling became even more prevalent when she saw the attire that he had laid out on the bed. With each garment she picked up, a sinking feeling came over her.
The red, leather skirt was too short, and the black mesh top and silk tank underneath too revealing. A small package and two boxes lay next to the outfit. Inside the package was a pair of black fishnet hose and within the largest box, a platinum blonde wig. The smaller box contained every kind of make-up fathomable. Under the wig were specific instructions on how he wanted it styled and how he wanted her make-up to be applied.
The next note, hidden inside the pantyhose, delivered the bad news.
Wait for me in the hotel lounge in exactly one hour.
-V.
Her insides roiled with disgust and anger. A damned prostitute. That’s what he wanted her to look like. A hooker. Who the hell else would wear this get up? No respectable woman would wear an outfit like this. Not even to a night club. She should know. She had done plenty of unrespectable things in her life, including picking up men at a bar for one-night stands and engaging in less than safe behaviors. And accepting Mr. Black’s initial offer. But not once had she ever worn anything so trashy.
She would totally wear something like this for a night in, to role play or get kinky, but to be seen in public like this? What if someone she knew saw her?
She tossed the wig aside and plopped down onto the bed. Irritated, she swept the clothing aside roughly and crossed her arms over her chest. This was such BS.
Only a second later, her phone chirped.
MrBlack: Don’t be late.
Of course she wouldn’t be late. She hadn’t been late yet, had she? She was following his damned rules.
Quickly, she showered and stiffly, she dressed; going about the tasks as if she was watching herself from above. Emotionless. Robotic. Unfeeling.
Walking back into the bathroom to put on the wig, she was struck with how uncomfortable she was. The leather squeaked against her bottom, the fishnet on her thighs itched, and the mesh top that sat mid-navel scratched against her skin. She tugged the skirt down, but it was pointless. This was as good as it was going to get.
Following the directions that were included with the wig, she placed the thin hairnet on her head first, and then the wig. She poked and stabbed at it with a comb, ratting the ends as per Victor’s instructions. When she stepped back, something on the floor caught her eye.
A price tag from the wig had fallen out that read $2,432.00. She gasped. Who the hell paid that kind of money for something that would only be worn once? How much disposable income did Victor have? She knew he owned a lot of property, but she had no idea he was that wealthy. With that kind of money, he could have any woman he wanted so why was he bothering with her?