If I'm dreaming, don't wake me up. Even with the pain and the humiliation, she had never felt as alive as she did then. Her skin tingled with expectation as she waited for what came next, hoping it would be a chance to see the man of her dreams.
Lunch. She ate hungrily.
* * * *
Discipline was a daily class; she had to face Bertha again. The old woman merely smiled inscrutably. Carolyn dutifully took notes, attending her pen that she need not look at the teacher; the topic was restraint, physical as opposed to mental. “You'll learn of that another day.” Bertha spoke of what they might expect when first they were restrained, the panic, the feeling of claustrophobia. “When your eyes are covered, you feel enclosed, even out in the open. This is natural, but you will need to keep yourself calm."
"Why?” A young woman spoke from the front of the room. Her uniform was like Carolyn's, bare of patches. Another new girl? “Why shouldn't we panic, if someone covers our eyes?"
"If you wish to displease your masters, then panic away. But you are here to learn how to please them, no?"
Carolyn frowned. To please masters? Is that why I'm here? I don't think so, but … it could be. Part of it. I guess. Bertha continued, looking around the room. “Anyone can be frightened; there is no skill in that. It takes a certain person to delight in his own fear. To make of it a gift to his master, a spur to heighten pleasure. To obey, when instinct screams at you to fight, to protest. Not to ignore your fear, but to choose to listen to your master anyway. That is why you are told something of what to expect, to help you when your fear is loudest in your ears. You must listen not to it, but to your master. Do you understand?"
Her eyes locked on Carolyn's. “Do you understand?"
Carolyn gulped, and the hated flush rose again to her cheeks. “I-I'll try,” she whispered, and the harridan at last moved on. Squirming, wincing as rough lace scraped across tender flesh, she stifled a groan. Damn, that woman scares me! I wonder why. It wasn't the threat of the Enforcer, but something more. She seemed to give off a sense of immovable certainty, like a Sunday-school teacher or the warden at a prison might. “I know what's right, and you have no say in the matter.” There was no telling what she might do, if she thought it would be for the best.
God, I'm wet! How long ‘til I get some relief? The bell rang at last.
* * * *
Carolyn did not attend her last class for the day; with the young woman who had spoken, she was pulled aside. “You're wanted in the library. Come along.” They followed biddably, Carolyn trying not to wince as each step increased her pain. The analgesic had well and truly worn off.
She was still eager to come, even knowing how much it would hurt her already overused flesh. Swaying her hips, she made her way down a hall either too long by far or not nearly long enough, each step a new burst of pleasure-pain.
Six people sat in the room; Carolyn saw only one. The man from her dreams, dark mustache, white slash of smile. Her hand rose to her chest, to keep her heart from leaping forward. She took two steps toward him, but an attendant barred her way.
"Kneel."
She went to her knees, taking the position Jack had taught her. Beside her, the other woman was prodded into place. “Jennifer, tell us why you are here."
The woman sobbed, a loud, sloppy, liquid sound. “I don't kn-ow…” she whined. “I thought … but then…” She stammered for a while, but didn't manage a single coherent phrase.
"Carolyn."
She licked her lips.
"Tell us why you are here."
"I am here to learn.” She had been told to keep her eyes down, but could not resist a glance. He was there, real, within reach, had she but dared touch him. “To feel.” It wasn't enough. The set of his shoulders told her he waited for something. Her mind raced. What could she say, what did he want to hear? Discipline. “My place is to obey.” The words welled up from somewhere near her heart.
And they worked. He didn't smile, but she thought he came close to it. His shoulders relaxed, his chin dropped in kin to a nod. He was pleased, and knowing that made her insides melt. I pleased him. She felt she was glowing, head to toe.
"There is one here who wants you. Go to that person.” She rocked back on her heels and went to him. Kneeling as she had been taught, she dared to meet his eyes for one brief moment, then looked down, keeping her face tilted up at him.
"Carolyn.” That was all, he merely spoke her name. But her body tightened all at once, and then relaxed. Not quite a climax, but a strong burst of pleasure. Her breath rushed out, and she shuddered.
"Jennifer."
Someone else had spoken, Carolyn did not know who, nor care. She knelt, torn between yearning and satisfaction, wanting to look at him, but happy just to be there. The others dealt with Jennifer; Carolyn paid no attention, the sounds just background as she basked in his presence so close to her.
The attendant spoke again. “Carolyn, rise and follow.” She whimpered, though she tried not to, as she obeyed. Down a corridor to a hall lined with doors, but no windows. “This is your tutor's office. Be here tomorrow. That is all."
She found her way back to the dining hall, hands shaking with her need.
* * * *
The man from her French class, Tom, sat with her at dinner, telling her how things worked. “Tomorrow morning, after breakfast, you knock on his door. Do what he tells you, whatever he tells you, and you'll be fine. Disobey, and you could find yourself out of here. Tutorials take precedent over everything else; your tutor can take you out of classes, forbid you to sleep … anything he says goes, for as long as he wants you. But you still have to keep up with your class work. Have you memorized the rules?"
Carolyn had, so Tom started quizzing her on her French. Finding she had none, he shrugged. “You'll need a tutor."
"But, I thought I had one. Tomorrow morning, I knock on his door?"
"No, I mean you'll need to find someone to teach you to speak French. Your tutor has nothing to do with classes; that's something else. You'll need to make a bargain with somebody."
"A bargain?” Carolyn shook her head, completely lost. “Help?"
Tom put his hand on Carolyn's thigh. His smile reminded her of a jackal, though she'd never seen one. Without thinking, she pulled away from him, frowning. His sneer was menacing. “You don't have anything to offer, little girl."
Jack's voice came from behind. “Nor anything worth taking, right, Tom?"
Tom craned his neck around, took a good look, and spread his hands, displaying emptiness.
"You were just leaving, right? I'll take that seat.” When he was out of earshot, Jack directed her frown down at Carolyn. “Stay away from him; he'll just get you into trouble. Found a tutor yet?"
Smile bright as sunlight, Carolyn began to talk about her day.
The evening passed too quickly, in conversation and in study; Carolyn lost herself in reading about history. But when she lay her head on her pillow, her thoughts were not of Egypt-she looked forward, not to the past. Her dreams were all about her tutor, and what he might teach. Whatever it was, she was eager to learn. Proctors patrolled the dormitories, ensuring compliance to the rules. That night, several had to move Carolyn's hands above the covers.
Morning came, and she moved through the routine like a sleepwalker. Fear became arousal, which changed to terror, then desire, an unending loop. What would he want of her? Her heart pounded. What if she wasn't good enough? She couldn't even meet a small town's expectations; how could she expect to satisfy this man? She didn't even know what he would want!