The bigger question I need answered is if I even want to be released.
Something about being in this dank basement, naked and stripped of every type of protection and mask I could possibly have, has enlightened me. This is who I am. Or perhaps, it’s who I want to become, because I’m certainly not fully me—at least not yet. But with my master's help, maybe I can become that.
“Will you help me?” I ask the empty room, knowing full well that I’m alone. “Will you help me become me again?” My voice cracks on the last word. Hot tears slip down my cheeks, sliding over my skin and falling onto my chest and dripping down to my breasts.
Why does that sadden me so much?
Without having to think deeply, I already have the answer. For years, I’ve molded myself into someone I’m not and into someone I never wanted to become. And for what? To ensure that someone would always love me? Why would I be so desperate for someone to love me?
Why does no one love me?
The question echoes through my brain, scattering all other thoughts and sensations from my body. It overwhelms me. For years, I thought I could only be loved for what I could offer others, but maybe that’s not so true anymore. Maybe, just maybe, there’s something about me that doesn’t repulse everyone, that might just attract someone.
Someone like BandAid42, like this person who’s been talking with me for months.
Because I’ve never lied to them.
Or hidden from them.
A door clicks closed. Shoes shuffle against the floor, but I don’t see anyone in the room with me. The air in the basementchanges, however, and I know I’m not alone anymore. Not that I ever really was.
“You’re back,” I whisper, my voice so quiet that I’m not even sure if they hear me.
My master comes closer, their boots shining in the dim light first before the rest of their body is revealed. Raking my gaze upward, I memorize absolutely everything I can, from the way they stand, putting more pressure on one leg than the other, to their narrow hips, to the lines of their body, and each zippered pocket on the leather jacket they wear that isn’t too snug against their body, to the wisp of curly dark hair just at the edge of their mask that I can barely make out in the darkness, but I swear it’s there.
I point my toes again, stretching my calves and thighs as much as I can. I don’t get the sense we’re done, not with the way they’re staring at me. But this silence isn’t loud or overwhelming. In fact, it’s so comforting that I’m fairly certain I can live in this moment for hours. Just listening to their breaths, my heartbeat, and the quiet of this room that brings me so much comfort.
“Do you think I’m done with you?” they ask, their voice a jolt of reality bursting through the serenity I’ve found.
I raise my chin, staring directly into those stunning caramel-brown eyes. “No.”
“Good. Your cunt is still too pretty for my tastes.”
Chapter 18
January 7
“Are you there?” I ask the empty spare bedroom.
I get no response. Again.
I swear every day for the last week, I’ve come in here and asked the same question, wondering where BandAid42 has gone, but I’ve gotten no answer. Even texts remain unread. I’m greeted with just silence. Are they even still watching me on the cameras? I’ve tried to entice them, masturbating and watching the camera, asking if what I’m doing is what I should be doing, and I still get nothing.
A week ago, a recording started through the ear device. At first, I thought it was a response, that finally they were talking with me, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. The intonation was wrong. The voice was the same as before, but this time it was void of emotion.
And that’s what I crave.
Instead, I was greeted with nothing more than degradation by a mechanical voice that had no interaction with me whatsoever.
“Slut. Bitch. Dirty. Disgusting.”
It’d just repeat those words nonstop.
I didn’t mind it at first, but the last few days I haven’t worn the ear device as often. I don’t wantjustthat. I want the teasing and the taunting, the interaction between BandAid42 and me. I want to know what I should be doing based on what they want. I wantthemto fulfill my desires, not just annoy me.
When I get no response this time, I slide into the chair at the desk and turn on my computer. Maybe it’s time that I dive deeper down this rabbit hole than I’ve gone before. I know BandAid42 told me not to before, but if they’re going to ignore me, it’s this or I give up.
I’m not ready to do that.
