Black Rose

Say Grace.

Once Blake left, I just stayed still for a while, staring at the door, processing what happened. I half expected him to return for another round of torture.

But no — he was gone.

At least for the moment.

I shifted and quickly realised that there wasn't much moving room in the harness he had wrapped me in. The most I could do was lean back a little on my legs to give my arms a little bit of a break, but even that was barely more comfortable.

So I resorted to just waiting and trying not to think about what had just happened.

But as the times will tell, the harder you try not to think about something, the more you are going to think about it.

As such, I did think about it. The events played over and over again in my mind, a sick loop I couldn't control.

His fingers in my hair. The sounds he made. The brief moments I could breathe before being forced to take him again.

It was crouched there on the floor, reliving the ordeal, that the tears came. Hot and heavy, I tried to hold them in, but it was no use. There was no way of stopping once they started.

At some point, I ran out of tears, and for a while, I just silently sobbed. Then I got too tired to cry, and I just crouched there, feeling heavy.

"Ophelia."

I looked up.

Gwen was stooped in front of me, a crease in her brow, a concerned look playing across her face. Behind her stood Blake, looking down at the two of us with a somewhat annoyed look.

"Take her out of that harness, Iris, and get her dressed, then bring her to the kitchen." He said, and dropped a familiar black dress at the floor by his feet. "The longer you leave me waiting, the worse it will be for the both of you, so save the monologues for another time."

He turned and left. I watched him go, then looked down, not wanting to look at Gwen. She let out a sigh and wordlessly started undoing my bonds, letting me out of the knelt position. When I was free, she helped me up onto my shaky legs. She picked up the clothes from the floor and handed them to me, and I quickly put them on, trying not to think about how intently she was staring at me. When I was dressed, I turned back to her, and our eyes met for the first time since she had come down here.

A wave of fresh betrayal and pain washed over me as I looked into her dark brown eyes. I felt the tears beckon again but blinked them away. She noticed and gently took my arm in an attempt to comfort me.

"Ophelia, I'm sorry–"

"Don't," I said quietly, cutting her off. I shook my head. "I don't want to hear it."

She flinched. "Please, if we just talk, I can explain everything."

I pursed my lips and pulled away from her grasp. I stared at her for a moment, then shook my head. "Come on. Master is waiting for us."

It was evident from her face that my choice of words stung, but I didn't let myself feel remorse. Instead, I moved past her to leave. After a moment, I heard her follow.

Out the door, down the hallway, to the kitchenette and living room.

Blake was standing behind his chair, at the dining table, waiting. I was shocked to see the table set with an elaborate feast, with what looked to be roast beef and potatoes, salads, garlic bread, and even some macaroni. Blake nodded at me as we came in. "Good to see you're finally listening to me, my rose."

I just pursed my lips and looked down, shocked at the spark of pride within me at his words.

He chuckled. "Nice and quiet, I see. Tell me, my rose, how are your arms feeling today?"