“Thank you, thank you, thank you,”I thought towards him, staring at the items. Thomas had never given me such things.Only ever cold water and a ratty cloth. Never anything like this. Never such beautiful things.
“To say ‘thank you’ in sign language, you must place your fingers in front of your chin and move them down and out in a soft arc.”
An easy motion.
I did exactly as he said, wanting so terribly to express my gratitude. I hovered my fingers above my chin and moved them down and forward at the same time.
“You’re welcome,” he replied softly. He was quiet a moment. “Stop those tears of yours, Scarlett. They humiliate you and punish you and keep you on your knees because they know how powerful you could be if released from the cage they keep you in. Do your best not to cry in front of them from this moment forward. It’s time you start showing them how powerful you can be. Sometimes that begins in subtle hints. After all, tsunamis don’t just come out of nowhere, there are always signs to ignore first.”
My heart was beating against my ribs as I stared at that brush. Could he truly read my mind? Was it possible? How did he know that’s what I thought of him?
“Clean yourself up, little sinner,” he instructed, “and then you may change. All by your little lonesome too. I’m sure you can handle that. Do you know how to brush your own hair?”
Maybe it wasn’t because he could read my mind, because that was a ridiculous notion, perhaps our minds just ran along the same path. Parallel. His a little darker than mine, but I could catch up. I would catch up.
I tapped my finger. Of course I did. I brushed it out every day. Every night. I loved brushing my hair until it was soft and tangle free.
“Good.”
I thanked him again and grabbed the toothbrush first.
It took me twenty minutes to clean myself up and brush through my hair. The soap in that bottle smelled like citrus too. Citrus and the sea, it reminded me of him. Brushing my hair was incredibly painful, but this brush was easier to use than the one Thomas used. It broke through the tangles with ease, and when I was done, I set the brush down, my hair pushed behind my ears and waited.
“Do you need to be guided to your clothes?”
I remained as still as possible, knowing he was watching my hands. I knew how to get there just fine. It was eight steps behind the chair and lined the back wall.
“Go then,” he ordered me.
I stood and headed for the clothes, feeling those warm eyes on me with every step.
I had never gotten to choose what I wore in this room. Everyone else always chose for me. I had never truly cared, it was what was expected of me, but now I had those dresses that Azrael had put in here. Now I had things that I actually liked.
I lifted my eyes high enough to see the fabrics, lifting my hand to run my fingers along the edges of the clothes. My throat still hurt and so did my head, I had a headache pounding against the edges of my skull, but now I had Azrael’s session to look forward to. No more cocks. No more semen. No standing or kneeling for long periods of time. No hearing grunts and moans or dirty words coming from old tongues. Just Azrael and his quiet madness. Just the ticking clock.
I was almost at the end when I stopped on a beautiful red dress. Simple, no tulle or leather or a ton of ribbons in need of tying. I pulled it out and lowered it enough to inspect it without lifting my eyes too high.
It looked like I could just pull it on over my head and tie a little ribbon between my breasts to make sure the front didn’t fall too low.
I held it close and turned to the shoes, quickly picking out a pair of black boots that I had heard Thomas call combat boots once when he was talking about how much he hated them.
I picked them up, along with a pair of socks, and finally made my way back to my chair.
I set the boots next to the chair, set the socks on top, and placed the dress over the top of the back of the chair before stepping back and folding my hands in front of my hips.
He watched me carefully. “You can’t get out of that yourself,” he said almost to himself.
I couldn’t. It was a leather corset, pulled tight and tied in the back. I needed help.
Azrael remained where he was, quiet and watchful. It took about five Mississippi’s for him to finally step towards me.
My heart skipped when I saw his cane being leaned against my chair. Did I ever imagine Azrael undressing and redressing me? Never. I never thought anyone would do it outside of Thomas. He was my betrothed, but Azrael was now my owner. Technically, so long as he didn’t make me impure, he could see me in any state he wanted.
Even naked.
I felt it when he stepped up behind me, felt the presence of his body and where it warmed every part of mine.
I lifted my arms out of habit and waited, staring at that cane carefully. The dark wood of it, my eyes trailing up as far as I dared, only to find that he had leaned it in such a way that I could finally see what the top was.
