Talia's Legacy

Talia sat in her studio chair where she normally performed all readings. It’d been a slow Monday morning, with few customers. This morning while waiting for the arrival of her next appointment, Talia found herself using her Tarot deck. A note pad and pen stayed nearby, in case Talia felt need to make note of anything.

When the trance fog receded from her vision, Talia viewed Tarot cards indicating strife, conflict and personal danger. An address was written on the pad, though she didn’t recollect it. Foreboding clouded her mind, and pervading her subconscious was a sense of sexual violation. Ripping the sheet from the pad, Talia hurriedly wrote a note on the next page.

No, means No. That means you don’t have my consent to do what you are undoubtedly planning to do to my body. I will be alerting the authorities to keep an eye on you. If something untoward should befall me, if you violate me, they will know it is you. Cease and desist any sexual fantasies you have on my account.

Madame Talia.

Without any idea as to whom it should be addressed, she’d started the note without salutation. That would have to be enough. She experienced an overwhelming urge to mail the missive without divining anything further.

Talia then stood and went to her desk to retrieve an envelope. Quickly, she addressed it using what she’d obviously written by her own hand on the previous sheet of paper. Into the envelope she inserted the note and sealed it. Talia placed the sealed note in the out-basket. Her receptionist and girl Friday, Janice, would affix a stamp later and mail it.

The sign outside the little gray craftsman style bungalow house read Madame Talia – Psychic Medium, Tarot Reading, Fortunes Told. Inside, Madame Talia prepared for her next appointment, unaware that it would be the person to whom she had sent the hand written note. The man approaching her studio, Chance, had never heard of her before that note arrived.

Chance’s appointment was in a few minutes. He wouldn’t be making Madame Talia wait. He stopped and took a breath before walking up the low stairs and opening the door. A subtle scent drifted in the air as he entered. He couldn’t quite place it. He wondered if it were there to confuse the senses of the clientele.

Maybe the scented air was supposed to add to the mystic ambiance, the same as all the artwork and symbols adorning the reception area. It was furnished with a handful of sparsely padded armchairs. There was no receptionist behind the mildly ornate desk at the moment. Chance sat in one of the chairs to wait. There were magazines strewn across a coffee table, but none of them appealed to him, most of them were about horoscopes.

A woman stepped through the interior doorway, looked his way and queried, “Chance?”

He replied in the affirmative, and she looked back through the doorway stating, “Madame Talia, your four o’clock is here. Also, remember I need to leave early today for the parent-teacher conference.”

Talia’s reply sounded a little bit irritated, “Who schedules a parent-teacher conference for a Friday evening?”

“The teachers…”

“Of course… Well, send my appointment back. I’ll be ready in a couple of minutes.”

The receptionist reached behind the desk and picked up her purse. After retrieving a set of keys, she walked to the front door and locked it.

Turning back to Chance, the receptionist stated, “The door is locked now, so nobody can wander in from outside. When your time is up with Madame Talia just push this button over here and you can exit and the door will stay locked after you leave. I’m going to be leaving in ten minutes.”

“I see. What about the fee for today?”

“Leave your address on this pad,” she indicated a pad on the counter, “I’ll send the bill to you by mail,”

“Right, okay. Good luck with the parent-teacher conference.”

The receptionist smiled and said, “Thank you.” She directed Chance through the doorway she’d exited earlier; and then led him to the seat at the table in the next room. Madame Talia was already waiting at the table.

“Good luck with your reading. Hopefully Madame will have good news for you,” the receptionist added as she left the room.

Chance studied Madame Talia as he took the proffered seat opposite her. She was not as old as he’d expected, but she wasn’t extremely youthful either. If he’d been pressed to guess her age he’d have thought mid to late thirties. The scent he’d noted in the air upon entry was definitely a bit headier in this room. It was still difficult to detect exactly what it was, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

Madame Talia studied Chance from behind eyes the color of jade. Her aquiline nose didn’t detract from her looks as it would’ve on so many. Her bow-shaped lips were tinted pale lilac. In dulcet tone she asked, “What can I help you with today Chance?”

“You don’t look like a Madame,” he deflected the query with a statement.

Talia thought Chance was trying to be cagey in avoiding her question.

She responded with, “Much like the Dread Pirate Roberts in The Princess Bride, I’m not the original Madame Talia. It’s more of an inherited title, if you will. But if that is all you are seeking today, this will be a short reading. Perhaps you could try a specific question. It will make it easier for me to get a reading for you.”

He pursed his lips for a moment before adding, “I’m kind of a skeptic, actually. Though I do have a more specific question for you to answer,” and reaching into his jacket, Chance pulled out an envelope with a handwritten address upon it.

The note showed signs of being opened previously. With a finger, he flicked open the envelope and retrieved the handwritten page within. Quickly he unfolded and slid it across the table toward her. As he did so, Chance asked, “Why did you send this to my address?”

It was a short letter without salutation, more of a note, but definitely informal. Talia remembered very well what she had written in that note Monday. It was not something she expected to ever see again. Much less in the possession of a man who’d received it.

A bit of color drained from her face, but she explained, “I had a premonition of that address... no, name, just that address, and that somebody living there would force themselves upon me. I have already spoken to the police about this. I would advise you to leave here now. You are no longer welcome.”

Chance didn’t move and gazed steadily at her with one brow raised, “Premonition, or self-fulfilling prophecy? I had no knowledge of you prior to receiving your mail. So I wondered if you were a one woman pre-crime unit. Tell me more about this premonition.”

Uttering an almost breathless, “No,” she sprang from her chair and started to run to the door opposite the one he’d entered.

Talia was no match for Chance’s quickness though. In two steps, he had one of her wrists in hand and planted his feet, arresting her movement and spinning her around. She attempted back-pedaling while twisting to extricate her wrist from his grip. She pulled and struggled, but couldn’t budge his fingers which seemed like an iron manacle. Neither did it work beating his hand with her fist, nor ineffectually prying at his thumb.

As her predicament became clearer and escape seemed impossible, Madame Talia took in a breath preparing to scream. Suddenly Chance paralyzed her solar plexus with a quick jab to the midriff, causing her legs to collapse while she fought her spastic muscles to get her breath back. In one deft movement, he used her helplessness to fit a ball gag in her mouth and buckled it behind her head. Still struggling to get air in her lungs, Talia weakly reached up to undo the buckle.

Tears started streaming from her eyes when she felt the handcuffs close on her wrists. Her fearful sobs were somewhat muffled by the ball gag. He let her cuffed wrist go momentarily and she went down on her back.

In a desperate move, Madame Talia folded one knee up to her chest and lashed out with a stomping action aimed for her attacker’s groin. If the kick had connected, it probably would have disabled him long enough for her to get away, but he’d brushed her foot aside. Screaming in muzzled frustration and launching a flurry of kicks and stomps at him, she reacted with fury when it only seemed to amuse him.

“Seems you still have some fight left,” he mockingly added, “Madame. Nice legs by the way.”

Her skirt was mostly bunched up around her upper thighs. Anybody, as well as Chance, would have had an unobstructed view of her panties. Talia tried to cover herself. In her distracted state, Chance reached out and grabbed the cuffs, hauling her to her feet. She tried kicking his legs again. When he avoided it, Talia stumbled and lost her balance. Chance wrestled her back to her chair.

It was a sturdy wooden chair, slightly ornate with scroll work and gaps here and there. He used a zip tie to bind the cuffs to the top back of the chair. It was awkward for her facing the back. The seat was about knee level and she could feel a bruise starting from being shoved into it.

Chance put his hand on Talia’s shoulder. She tried to shrug it off, but his hand kept sliding down her back toward her waist, then further down along her rear end. She shuddered at his wandering and unwanted exploration. She loathed the sensation. At the same time, Talia also realized it was the same sensation she longed to have of a lover caressing her. She groaned and tried to squirm away.

Her protestations were semi-muffled by the ball gag she was starting to drool around. Madame Talia’s mind went fuzzy temporarily, but the feeling of a cuff closing around her right ankle fastening her to the chair leg renewed her panic.

She struggled to keep her left ankle from his reach, but it wasn’t long before he wrapped his iron grip upon her and pulled it inexorably to the same state as her other ankle. She was well and truly trapped, and the feeling of helplessness built inexorably.

Chance’s hand lingered for a moment around the ankle he’d just secured. Talia stiffened, expecting to feel his touch running up her calf and on around to her inner thigh and beyond to a place she shuddered to think about. When that didn’t happen Talia’s mind began to ponder other possibilities given her predicament.

Would he kill her? Would he take his time raping her and then kill her? The dread fueled a couple of minutes struggling to break free from being bent over her chair. It was too solid for her to smash to pieces.

Twisting her wrists at the zip tie binding the cuffs to the chair; playing over the various scenarios in her mind on how she might effect her escape, it dawned on her that tipping the chair over would probably not be worth the effort. Even if she could tip it over from her awkward positioning.

The hand Talia would have sworn was still around her ankle, startled her when it pressed upon her back. Talia squirmed under the heat she felt between her shoulder blades. Suddenly, her note to Chance was once again in front of her. Both remained where they were until she ceased struggling.

She became aware of Chance’s scent mingling with the aroma normally permeating her studio. Vanilla Wafers steadily started to associate with what would be her memory of this day. Talia soon realized she’d never again be able to smell Vanilla Wafers without thinking about this violation.

Chance leaned toward her ear. His face close, breathing steady, it tickled along Talia’s neck. She felt a tingling sensation begin somewhere beneath her sternum. His low rich baritone voice intoxicated her ears, “I’ll ask again,” he stated softly, “Did you intend to entice me with this note? To trick me and entrap me? Did you think to manipulate me… into participating in your dark twisted fantasy?”

With each question, Talia shook her head, trying to convince him that those weren’t her intentions. With the last question, she let out an indignant squeal, which actually sounded more like an undignified huffing.

Chance crumpled the note inches away from her face, “Why should I believe you?”

The accusation stabbed at her heart and her hope deflated. For a short stretch of time, Madame Talia whimpered around the ball gag. She closed her eyes and wished desperately to disappear. When she could no longer see him or feel his presence close by, her fears receded somewhat.

Scanning her surroundings as best she could, it appeared he had left the room. Long moments of silence stealthily crept upon her, tangled and twisted her nerves. Soft twilight skies slid slowly across the small bits of window not covered by curtains.

Madame Talia strained to hear where Chance had gotten off to in the building. For all she could guess, he might be behind her just out of sight. The waiting while she was trussed up and vulnerable to rape and or murder was exhausting. The darker it grew outside, the more she dwelt on imagining her receptionist finding her on Monday morning; stripped, raped, bleeding and barely alive if not already dead.

Talia wondered what it would be like to have her womanhood plundered while she could only put up a token struggle in resistance. Would he take his time pulling her clothing off? Would it be a sudden violent rending of cloth; with her tattered clothing hanging in shreds from her mostly naked back while he took her?

Would he shove his member into her virgin anus? The more she worried, the less she paid attention to the tingling building up in her nether regions.

“No, not anal, please don’t let him rape me there,” she thought, but the thought inexplicable got her vagina wet. Talia flushed powerfully. Not only her face, but her arms and thighs turned hot from embarrassment. Perspiration built up on her upper back and her blouse clung uncomfortably to the moisture.

Talia whimpered and whined for a moment. Her drool from the ball gag dribbled down her chin and dripped past her arms onto the chair seat. She closed her eyes in self-pity and misery. When she opened them again the room had gone completely dark, the last light of the day fleeing from her predicament. She thought she felt her skirt being raised up and over her back. Talia steeled herself for the undesired but expected tug on her panties.

Chance’s hand pressed on her shoulder again. His hot breath on her neck and ear jolted her. Talia shrieked loudly into the gag. He waited for her hysteria to subside.

“I didn’t see any cameras about the place. You are either very clever or not really trying to record me. I did find your computer though. I’ll be taking it with me to study at my leisure,” he explained.

There was a click at one ankle and then the other, freeing her legs from the metallic cuffs. Following that, the zip-tie binding the cuffs to the chair top let loose. The sudden freedom almost caused Talia to collapse forward onto the chair. But Chance grabbed the handcuffs and steadied her.

He then pulled her close, gripping her shoulders. Talia felt the warmth of Chance’s face near her cheek. He said, “I’d better not see any police near my front door regarding our tete-a-tete. Do you understand? They won’t find me, but I’ll find you.”

With that, the handcuffs were removed and Chance disappeared into the darkness. A moment later, Talia heard the door close. The adrenaline crashing through her blood stream petered out. It left her so drained and weak, all she was able to do was collapse to the floor, back stiff and cramping. Her fingers were without the strength to remove the ball-gag from her mouth, and trembled for many minutes.

Talia had a daybed in the small back bedroom and eventually made her way to it. She lay down to sleep. It was a fitful sleep with dreams of being vulnerable again and roughly used over and over. She dreamed of her body betraying her and spasms of orgasmic pleasure washing through. All while pleading for more.

Talia woke up with her skirt bunched around her waist, her hand in her panties, and fingers soaked in her own sex juices.

“Oh God,” she groaned.

Over the course of the next few weeks Madame Talia did her best to get back to a normal routine. She tried not to dwell on being as helpless and afraid as she was that Friday evening. A security company was contacted and contracted to install a panic button underneath her reading table.

At the push of a button they would send a car to check on her. No longer would she need fear a man violating her inner sanctum here where she worked. She rearranged the furniture in the studio. She changed the scent she used to set the atmosphere as well.

Anything that reminded her of that evening, she changed to avoid the memory, but the more she changed, the more persistent the memory. Madame Talia didn’t believe herself to be an adrenaline junkie, but the thoughts of vulnerability and danger of being raped made her heart race and caused a flutter in her loins.

“This is ridiculous. I must confront my fear, right? That’s the best way to get over the fear and move on,” she thought one afternoon, trying to strengthen her resolve. Slowly she retrieved stationery and pen, setting it on the small desk she rarely used in the studio. It remained there for three days before she found the courage to set pen to paper and to start writing a note.

Dear Sir,

You violated me when you took the liberty to invade my studio, forced me into bondage and threatened me. After much consideration, I have resolved to have you arrested and punished for my mistreatment. I look forward to my vindication at your trial.

Madame Talia

Folding the note, she sealed it in an envelope and wrote the address on the envelope. She very nearly dropped the correspondence on the out tray. She stared at the letter in her outstretched hand. A premonition of extreme danger washed over her. This letter was addressed to a very dangerous man. Her heart beat heavily within her chest. Breath quickening and a flush of heat weakened her resolve. “What the hell was I about to do?” Talia wondered.

Madame Talia dropped the letter in the waste basket, collected her things and walked out front to the reception area. She spoke to her receptionist, “Janice, please reschedule my 4 PM appointment for another day. I’m going home now. I haven’t had a break lately and I need to get out of here for a while. You can take off early after you finish up.”

Janice gave her a conciliatory smile, “You deserve a break boss. Go have a glass of wine, or bottle…”

Fifteen minutes later, Janice went in to tidy up the studio. There wasn’t much tidying necessary, but she did see the lone item in the waste basket. Thinking Madame Talia had done so accidentally, she picked it out and applied postage. She would drop it off on her way home.