Behind the Mask

Chapter 20

Trigger Warnings: abuse, child neglect, sexual assault, grooming

North's POV

She sat quietly playing with the buckle on her purse as I drove. "So do you want to talk about it?" I finally asked, glancing sideways at her.

She let out a long sigh, "What? About the fact that I crashed into your home then made a fool out of myself with my personal issues and feel like I need to disappear from the planet or die of embarrassment? Or were you simply talking about the weather?"

I choked and busted out laughing - gods this woman really didn't have a filter! "I guess we might need to narrow down that first part," I finally said. "To begin with, you did not make a fool out of yourself in any way, Ris. In case you didn't notice, I, well, um, I sort of have a fondness for littles. So you slipping was just fine with me, with all of us actually." I cleared my throat, "Gabe has the same affinity, and as you noticed, Sean slips sometimes too. It's nothing to be ashamed of, it's just part of who you are."

I felt her hand slip around my wrist, "Thank you," she whispered softly. "I'm sure you already figured it out, but that's the first full slip I've had since Winston died. My parents always told me it was wrong and there was something wrong with me for doing it." She got a far-off look on her face and mumbled under her breath, "Then again, my father also thought everything I did was wrong."

I moved my arm and took her hand in mine. "Can I ask you about something? You mentioned a smelly man last night when you were upset. Do you remember who or what that was?"

I instantly regretted asking as her face went pale and she began to shake violently, her hand clenching around mine tightly. "Pull over," she said, and I barely managed to reach the side of the road before she opened the door and threw up. Putting it in park, I reached over and held her hair back as she got sick again. Once she'd closed the door, I fished around in the console for some mints and water. "Sorry," she said.

"No, I'm sorry I asked. Obviously, it is a sensitive subject. You don't have to tell me, Ris," I gave her hand a squeeze and started to put the car in drive, but she stopped me.

"If I tell you, can you explain to the others? I don't think I can say it twice - well that or I won't be eating for a day or two," she gave me a weak smile trying to lighten the mood. I nodded and waited for her to explain. I was not prepared for what she said.

"When I was growing up, my father ran a very strict household. He was quite disappointed that I was a girl, and he never attempted to hide that fact from me. He wanted a son to carry on the family business, and when my mother suffered an injury after a riding accident and lost the ability to have more children, it changed him. He had never been an affectionate man, but now he was cruel and took pleasure in degrading and humiliating my mother and me both." She kept her eyes focused on some imaginary spot on her skirt as she continued to speak. "At first it was small things. I was nine when the accident happened, and I just thought it was normal - you know how kids convince them that things are okay even when they aren't, but by the time I started having my period, I couldn't deny that everything about my family was wrong, horribly, horribly wrong."

"Ris, you don't have to tell me if it hurts you," I said gently, reaching out for her arm, but she pulled away.

"No. I need to tell someone. Hell, I never even told Winston all of it," she gulped, fighting back her tears. "My father used to host parties at the house. My parents were very into BDSM and were swingers. Usually, I would just stay in my wing of the house and keep headphones on to avoid the music and sex noises, but this time, father made me attend." She turned to me with a fragile look, "I was twelve, what kind of bastard takes his twelve-year-old daughter to a fucking orgy?" She cleared her throat and continued as I held her hand in mine again. "Mother wasn't happy, but she will never stand up to him. He's broken her to the point that she can't breathe without his permission. I guess he thought it was time for me to be broken as well. He had arranged for me to meet one of his associates - he always smelled of stale cigars and cheap whisky - the smelly man. The man was only a couple of years younger than my father and had lost his wife a few years earlier. Father said the man needed someone to look after,  and could help teach me how to be a good wife and mother."