WHO'S THE MASTER

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Part 1: You've Been Served

Amalea awakens and observes she’s not in the city anymore. This is Amalea’s POV...


The slam of the car door jars me with the sound and shakes my body. It wakes me with a start. I feel groggy and have a bit of the cottonmouth. My vision is blurry for a second as I blink my eyes with the light that floods from above.

Fuck!

Where am I?

How long have I been asleep?

Wait… it was night outside my favorite pub run by my ex Manny when Sam shows up uninvited saying how we need to talk. Wasn’t it? While the dark seems to dominate the sky now, I watch it and see the subtle shift. It gets lighter outside to my amazement.

I gaze around at the outline of tall fields trying to see if I recognize anything. I don’t. For the first time, I worry because this shit has gotten real. The familiar city lights are long gone! In its place, wide open spaces arrest me under gloomy skies.

The SUV’s back door opens drawing my attention. A blond-haired man with average height and build who looks like Sam unchains me from the handle above. The cuffs locking on my wrists together remain. I stare up at him warily. Despite how I fight him, Sam drags me out of the vehicle.

“Let me go!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “Help!”

The noises I have grown accustomed to are vacant in the middle of nowhere. No honks from vehicles in traffic, chatty pedestrians in deep conversation, or blaring sirens of emergency vehicles. Because there are no trees near, no birds tweet. I hear plenty of creaks and buzzing of bugs.

“Help!” I scream anyway while kicking my legs.

Drizzles of rain fall upon us as Sam tosses me over his shoulder like a slab of meat unaffected by my struggle. Scratching my head, I pull the wayward bobby pin that’s been stabbing me from my pinned-up hairdo. I always use way too many, and my hair remains in place while I fiddle with the pin that no longer bothers me.

“Scream all you like. No one but me can hear you,” Sam says in a calm, clear voice.

No lights do I note around us for miles to comfort me. No houses appear in my immediate sight either. Only fields of tall crops like corn encroach upon us. Oddly, my mind turns to Stephen King’s “Children of the Corn,” and I shiver with the cold wetness causing my thin blue blouse and narrow skirt to stick to me.

“I want to go home! Now!” I demand sternly, but my kidnapper does not answer me or return me to the SUV.

As I kick and scream, Sam ignores me. He walks toward the dark farmhouse he’s parked near. I am thankful when he steps on the porch that creaks so we are not in the rain. The wind picks up in speed causing me to shiver from the cold and fear creeping into my heart.

“Sam!” I shout, but he only enters the dark house without saying a word. He slams the front door shut and then flips on the light. What I see makes me gasp. I’m greeted by standard country comfort. Hardwood floors, pictures on the wall of farm life, and cozy furniture that looks lived in. There’s warmth here.

Sam walks straight to the back of the house toward the kitchen and another door. It’s locked, and he pauses with the key.

“Are you listening to me?! Sam!” I continue to yell.

The new door opens, and we descend the stairs. The door swings shut after us and makes me jump. Only Sam’s footsteps do I hear in the dark when the lights flicker on to a sight that makes me cringe. We reach the bottom where he settles me at last on my feet, but I find it hard to stand straight, astounded by what I see surrounding me.

The light that flickers on is not harsh but soft. Red. It’s enough to let me see the wooden benches of all sorts. Whips and paddles hung side by side on the walls in varying degrees. Metal shelves fitted with several drawers in them line other walls. Who knows what nasty toys fill them? Chains hang from the ceiling.

After seeing this room fit for any sadist, Children of the Corn is tame in my mind. I enter a medieval torture chamber! “What the fuck?!”

“Fuckin’ you is exactly what’s on my mind,” Sam says with a wicked grin.

“Ohhh, no, you won’t!” Amalea shook her head.

“You can’t know how long I’ve wanted to, Amalea. I never knew you felt the pull between us. I suspected it. Not until that kiss in my office did I know for sure. I knew you were the one.”

I dare lift my eyebrow at him. “The one for what?”

Sam tilts his head at me. “To be my love slave, of course.”

“Fuck you!” I shout and run for the stairs that lead out of this chamber of horrors.

Sam yanks the chain linking to my cuffed wrists he still holds. Like a life-sized yo-yo, I rebound to him and fall into his arms.

“I know you want to, Amalea. You don’t need to be strong for me. Give me all the control. Let me be responsible for it, and the pleasure you deserve.”

His face is earnest in the soft light, and I want to believe him and his imploring green eyes. I really do. For a second, I even consider it. Okay, maybe two seconds, but that’s it! Not every day does a girl get hit with a lie like that. The pleasure I deserve? Really? Doubtless, I never hear that said to me before.

Frankly, it’s not in my nature to give in or submit to anyone. Although I’ve done it for eight hours a day, five times a week since coming to work for Sam, this is the one exception. My reasoning behind that is how this job will look on my resume. A Fortune 500 company carries some weight still. Like anyone my age, I would like to advance my career. I have many years to go before I can think about retiring, but I’d like very much to have enough to live comfortably and enjoy my golden years without fearing the cost of living forcing me to have to work.

On the flip side, I’ll be damned if I surrender in the bedroom, too. Fuck that shit! I suppose I should have warned Sam about this part of me? Nah! This is too much fun as it is. Besides, what happens in my bedroom I never discuss, anyway; not even with my closest girlfriends or Deidra. I don’t do relationships, and most of my couplings don’t last because the men I meet dislike taking second fiddle to me and my peculiar demands.

When Sam and I stand up straight, I lift the chains from around me and snap the handcuffs that were on my wrists on his. I smile big when he realizes what I’ve done.

“A-Amalea? What? H-how did you...?” he tries to ask, completely baffled as he raises his cuffed wrists.

I chuckle with perverse delight. “You never saw when I pulled the bobby pin from my hair, huh?” I show him the bobby pin I carefully bent the way I was taught. Before slipping it into my skirt pocket, I marvel at how rusty I am in the task but manage it just fine, eventually.

Sam shakes his head, but his green eyes never leave me.

“Yeah, as a teen, safe boys were never my thing. I liked to fuck with the baddies, just like my older sister Rayna, but worst I think. I thought of it as a competition. Those bad boys taught me a lot especially about how to pick locks among other things. Those other things are what you are going to learn about right now.”

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