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Open doorBy: Andrew Bonzua (a. k. a Andrew M. Bosnjak)The door was open, and she had seen him drive off. Surely he wouldhave a copy of his own books in his home! Why, she could slip in andtake a look, and leave again, and he would never know.She did not know why this idea slipped into her head. She would neverhave thought of such a thing, usually. But it was true: here was anopportunity to read the very works she had been so frustrated in tryingto find. A silly thing, to be unable to buy or borrow books, theauthor of which lived in one’s own town.And it wasn’t as if they were cult books, for which doing such a stuntwould be attractive and daring, and something to brag about. Theywere on history, and academic theories; slightly dated texts at that.But what she heard of them hinted at great ideas which fascinated her.And the more trouble she had finding them, the more she wanted to seethem.She walked right up to the front door, and went in. There was a studylike area near the kitchen, lined with bookshelves. There, the textsof many authors were arranged in alphabetical order by authors name.For one brief moment, the name of the author whose house she was nowin escaped her mind, but then, her eyes fell upon his name in the H’s,and she beamed with pleasure. They were humbly categorized with theothers, and were not set apart. They were slender, over sized books,hard cover in cloth, and they reminded her of the music scores she gotfrom the library. She took the set from the shelves and carried theminto the dining room.On the way there, she noticed a storage room, or pantry, and thought“should he come back, I can hide in there.” She tested the door,only to find that it could not close all the way. At least it wouldblock her from view from the front door, and if he walked withoutlooking backward, she should remain hidden. She then went to thedining room, and spread out the books. She took the first one in theseries, and began skimming through it.Ah, but they were fascinating! She was soon drawn into the texts,reading them passages hanging on every word, gazing at the colorplates of manuscripts she had never seen before. And his theoriesdelighted her mind, she felt like singing, like crushing the book toher head as if she could push all the words into her brain at once.One part of her demanded she keep reading the way a thirsting man’sbody demands drinking; another part of her was so over charged withideas and thoughts, she needed to lay the book down to digest andferment the kaleidoscope in her mind.Then she heard him at the door. For a moment she thought of restoringthe books to their place that he not suspect an intruder, but sherealized she had no time for that. She whisked herself into thestorage room, and pulled the door as shut as she could. She dared notlook out the doorway, for fear he would she her as well as she sawhim. She heard him enter, and sure enough, he walked by. But now hewas in the kitchen, and could see the door to the pantry through theopen-work bookshelves between them, and he had a clear view to whereshe stood, were he only to turn towards her. He could turn at anymoment, or perhaps even see her reflection in some stray kitchenutensil. With that thought, she broke for it.She exploded out of the pantry, and in a few steps gained the door. Hewhirled as he heard her, but he was much older than she, and slower.The screen door crashed shut behind her as she burst from the house.She crossed the driveway, running along the house, and it was in hermind that she go around the house to the woods in back to make herescape. But then as she rounded the garage a dread thought came toher: he was a hunter, and he owned rifles, and kept them handy. Wouldher shoot her? Her skirt was white, like a swan; she remembered astory in which an archer shot his true love while she wore the guiseof a swan, and in truth she did not know why she thought of that storyin that second. But moved thus, she darted into the cluttered garage,to hide.He entered the garage, searching, and she could not catch a glimpse ofhim for fear of betraying her location; she could only crouch andwait. At last she decided she would break for it again. She sprangup…and found herself face to face with him, and he stood between herand the road. His face was lined, and weathered, his hair was white;his face showed no emotion. He seized her right arm, and pushed hertowards the door to the house.She entered the house again, this time by the kitchen door to thegarage. But to her surprise, there were people there, idly chattingand sitting about and browsing thought magazine on the coffee table.Perhaps they entered with him? He did not get a chance to sayanything, for he was immediately hailed, and corralled by guests whojust *had* to speak with him. And more people were entering. Shefound herself unescorted again. She wandered about, acting as casualas she could manage. After a while, she worked her way back towardsthe front door, and she espied a woman calling a cab company.She requested, in her most offhand manner, if the woman could ask thatthey send a cab for her too? And the woman did indeed. It was ashort wait, when she saw a cab down the street. She stepped outside,unhindered. Walking down the driveway, someone asked,“Do you know how to get to Civic Center?”She wracked her brains; “I’m sorry, I’ve been away from the area forquite a while, and I can’t remember the names of the highways…areyou familiar with the county? You know the triangle? And the 23runs along here,” she illustrated in the air, “Right here is theCivic Center.”“Thank you.”At the end of the driveway, there were three of her friends. Theyhailed her, and looked surprised to find her there, but she did notget a chance to speak with them for the cab pulled up, and she wishedto dally no longer.She did not know why she returned, but she indeed foundherself at his house again. Some part of her, a part which staunchlywould not talk to her conscious mind, guided her limbs to convey herhere again. Some vague and nebulous, unnamed emotion roiled in hermind: a desire? a wish? a certainty? Again the door was open, andagain she entered.She saw the living room, the kitchen, the dining room, the pantry, thebook shelves were his works rested. This time she passed them by, andwent further into the house. She left the darker, wood paneledrooms, and came to a chamber where the walls were painted the faintestshade of blue, and the floor was carpeted in thick off-white pile, andgauzy white d****s hung along the windows. Nothing like furniture wasin this room, but fethiye escort there were two manacles set into the floor, severalfeet apart, and two manacles hung on rods from the ceiling, above theones on the floor. Nothing else disturbed the emptiness, thestillness, of the room.She examined the manacles; they were cleverly designed. They all layopen, each one a half ring, hinged to its other half, which in turnwas fastened to a ceiling rod, or to the floor by a shorter rod. Inthe second half-circle lay a lever, such that if on should put one’slimb into the embrace of the connected half, the other freely hingedpart, would be snapped up, and over, and around one’s limb, to lockinto the closed position. And moved by what she knew not, she didthis.First she removed her sandals, and stepping out of them, she walked toa place between the manacles. She spread her legs, and set one ankleagainst the inner arc of a manacle, and as she pressed *snap!* theother half closed about the end of her slender leg. She then reachedup, and pressed the wrist of the same side into the hanging mechanism,and it too closed with a satisfying //click//. She reached her otherleg towards the respective bond; only with much straining was she ableto reach far enough to set her other ankle in. But now, the lastmanacle hung on it’s rod above and beyond her reach. She pulledtowards it, but the spread of her feet kept her from attaining thelast ring. Then, there were hands on her waist, from behind, liftingher up, lifting her strongly, so that the steel at her feet pulled herlegs unrelentingly to earth. And with that, she set her wrist intothe manacle, and it clicked home. She hung there, most of her weightborne by her arms, her feet barely touching the floor, imprisoned.He walked around her, to stand before her. His gaze took her in, andshe looked back at him.He wore nothing but billowing draw-sting pants. Though his hair wasgray, right down to the wisps on his chest, his muscles were stilldefined, and he had lifted her with apparently little effort. She couldnot guess his age; she knew those books had been published a long timeago. Now his weathered face bore a pleased smile, and shone withwarmth. His eyes were a very clear blue.She was young; just a woman, but definitely a woman, having leftadolescence behind for good. Her dark hair hung in a sea of wavesabout her pale neck, her shoulders hidden in all but curve by herblouse of deep electric blue. Her cheekbones were faintly defined,and her jaw like the line of a heron’s wing bounded her oval face.Her arms, too, where like wings, stretched out and taught, or like thearms of an angel raised in supplication or adoration of heaven. Herankles were slender and delicately curved; a long white starched skirthung from her slender waist. Her eyes were black like night.Her eyes rested on his face, as with a tug he loosed the drawstring ofhis pants, and they felt to the floor; his gaze did not leave herface. She heard a crinkling, and rubbing sound. He lifted her whiteskirt, and with a pair of scissors he materialized from where she knewnot, he snipped her plain white underwear from her body. He steppedup to her, his body touching her. He reached around her and grippedher thighs from behind, and lifted her again, stepping forward as hedid, and setting her onto him, her cunt driven down onto his member byher own weight. Breath escaped her lungs like an un- articulated sigh.Now she gazed over his shoulder, but sight was lost to her as all herattention was drawn to her nerves, inside and out. In some distantpart of her mind the thought flared ///A condom! How good, and kind,and caring he is of me! How fine he is!/// Then there was no moreeffort left for words in her mind, as he began to stroke into her.She could not effectively move with his rhythm, for she had nomanoeuver ability to balance, but he steadied her with his hand on herthigh, and his strong steady pushing into her accounted for all themotion that was needed. It reminded her of oars, pushing against thesea.When he came, she knew it by the tightening of his muscles, but he wassilent save the single hard expulsion of breath. His worn cheek layagainst her own smooth face for some moments longer, then he withdrewfrom her body, and stepped back. Her skirt fell about her legs again.He spoke.“I set a suggestion into your mind, a vision, before you left here.To this you could have two responses. You could flee from here infear, forever shy of this place and of me, never to trespass again.Or you would return. The suggestion was this: were you ever to enterthis house again, you would become mine forever. The choice betweenthese two would lie in your own nature.”She said nothing, and her face showed little, but he knew his wordsspoke into the heart of her and she understood and followed everythinghe said.“What is your name?”“I do not remember, Master,” she answered truthfully, “But I know Iam your slave.”“And what is my name?”“I do not remember that either, Master.” She added after knottingher brow briefly in thought: “I call you by the title `Master’because it is what you are to me.”“Good, my dear. I think you shall find me a pleasing Master. I havenever been exceedingly lusty, and I have somewhat less interest than Idid when I was younger. But I still desire the use of your body, andyou shall not go without. I seek to have, also, a woman who body Imay play with, experiment on, toy with. There are many things which Iwish to do to your flesh, and to your mind. I will reprogram you mindso that you will unable to disobey me; what I say will be like yourown will in your body. ” He paused a moment. “Does this pleaseyou?”“Yes, Master, it pleases me.”He smiled warmly at her. “Good, my love. Let us begin.”He left the room, and she hung there patiently. When he returned, hewore a white robe which hung to his ankles, and he carried a ring ofkeys and more manacles in his hands. He unlocked her ankles, then herhands, carrying her limbs down to ease the pain of their release,stiff and sore he knew they would be. He kneaded her shoulders for amoment, then he brought her wrists together behind her back and lockedthem that way. He fastened a loose loop of chain about her waist,from which hung another length of chain to her knees. He put amanacle about each ankle, and these were connected by a chain in themiddle of which met the length from her waist; in this way the chainof her hobbles would be lifted from the floor so she would not trip.Then he locked a wide steel collar about her neck, and from thiscollar was a chain escort fethiye leash.With one hand at her lower back, and one hand holder her leash, hesteered her out of the room by way of a doorway on the other side fromwhich she entered. They passed through a small hallway with pleasantsmall floral print wallpaper, a small antique table with a vase offlowers, all reminding her of an apocryphal aunt’s home, and then theycame to another room.This was about the same size as the last room, but far more cluttered.This seemed more like a study, and bookshelves overflowed with papers,loosely bound texts, bric-a-brack and personal artifacts. There werecabinets along another wall, and there was a desk mostly covered bypaper. But also on the desk was a computer, and around this computerwas clear of the general clutter.He left her standing in the center of the room, while still holdingher leash, and opened up a cabinet. He pulled from it a large deviceof wire and metal rods and plastic bands. He set it precariously on astack of papers on the desk, and closed the cabinet. He fastened herleash to a ring set in the desk; he had her kneel. He fiddled withthe device for a moment, then it opened up, in some fashion, and heset it about her head.The thing reminded her of a halo brace, and indeed with the twistingof knobs, the screwing of cranks, and the snapping of snaps the devicegripped her head firmly, and pressed against her skull in numerousplaces. A large multi-colored ribbon of wires ran from the device toa pronged end, which he plugged into a box attached to the computer.She merrily laughed inwardly to find that she would be re-written onan Amiga.He sat himself at the desk and began to type at the keyboard.Kneeling by his side, she laid her head against his thigh. Hegrinned at her, and reached through the wiring to rub at her jaw linefor a moment, then returned to the machine. As she lay there, shefelt dancing on the inside, like a flight of butterflies in her heart,but she had no inclination to move from her position against hermaster. After a few more commands, he looked at her again, thentapped one last keystroke.She felt a fleeting feeling across her mind, like a high cloudscooting across the sky, a feeling that was more an awareness than anemotion. She neglected her vision, her hearing, and all her outwardsenses, turning all of her awareness to what was happening to hermind. She opened up all of her mind to this faint thing.She felt as if she were in midair, falling or flying, then. And shefelt as if there was someone who’s thinking she could hear, or feel,or know. Then, instantaneously, with not transition, she knew shewould not disobey. She could ///remember/// being able to disobey,but she no longer could. And it was not even a realization aboutwhether or not she *could*, but rather the understanding that never inher life would she disobey her Master. But she had not wanted tothen, and was no longer capable now, and could not longer conceive ofherself disobeying. Freedom from his will passed entirely from herunderstanding and ability and desire and all her soul.Then there came into her mind another understanding, or rather, therepassed from her other knowings. Gone was the worry that she mightleave, gone the idea that she someday would not be his slave, gone theconcept of being not his, gone the idea of having an identity of herown. All questions of permanence fled: she knew she was oncesomething else, free, but she could no longer imagine it, or hold suchan idea for herself in her mind.Certainty came to her next of his love and caring for her. It waseternal, and undivided by any other loves he indulged in. She knewthis, and became removed from any jealousy. She came to know that hewas capable in what he promised her, and would not fail her. Of thesetwo things trust is made, and forged in her was an absolute andunquestioning trust in him. She knew, for instance, that she wouldhave no desire to preserve her life should he tell her it was to end.And she knew then, that he *understood*. He understood her need forpain. He understood that every blow and every cut would convey loveas a kiss does, and she understood that every blow and every cut was agift of infinite loving. Every agony he inflicted would be his giftand his testament of love to her. She knew she would be made tosuffer beyond her ability to endure, because he cared. She knew thathe would understand every scream and every whimper to be not a wishfor the pain to end, but a sound her body demanded she make; she knewshe need not be silent for fear of making his ministrations cease. Itwas a promise written on her soul, “No matter what you do, I will notstop, you cannot make me stop. I will make you *hurt*.”He watched on the screen as the machine wrote in her mind what sheshall be for the rest of her life. There was a gauge that showed herresistance to the imprinting: in truth, there was no resistance. Hermind welcomed these thoughts, beliefs and tenets with completeacceptance. He watched as the machine remade her mind, with a delightand awe he rarely felt. She wanted to be his as much as he desired toown her. It seemed to him to be a miracle, and he felt a desire tothank some nameless deity that such a creature could exist, that acreature existing could be so perfect for him, could be his true mate.He did not have to reprogram her. She had fallen in love as he tookher in the chains. She would have obeyed as best any natural creaturecould physically obey. But then again, he did need to reprogram her.They both needed it. He needed to know her faith and love wereabsolute; that is what his heart needed. And it was also his gift toher. The programming went well beyond her consciousness,circumventing her own thoughts. Things she would have been physicallyincapable of doing at his order, such as “Go to sleep”, her newprogramming would obey; he was programming the controls to her body,not just her mind. If he did not do this, she would fail, and itwould wrack at her, and grieve her; now she would not have to endurefailure at what she wished to be able to do.He scratched her scalp idly as the machine whirred away. Then it wasdone. He shut down the master program, and unplugged the headset.She lifted her head from his leg, and looked up in his eyes. Hereleased her head from the mechanism, and set it on the desk. Hereyes were choked with emotion, but were dry. With a soft rustle of avoice she said,“Thank you, Master. Thank you for making me this.”He lifted her up and kissed her then, and she responded with all theardor in her overwhelmed fethiye escort bayan heart. He took the chain from the desk, andlead her forth again.This time, the came to a room that looked of japanese style; two wallswere of rice-paper panes in wood. Racks lined the other austere,white, walls, bearing all manner of instruments. A pallet lay on thehardwood floor by one wall. A low table held a lantern, a sprig offlowers, a white cloth, and a pitcher with a glass. He unlocked herhand from behind her back, and helped her strip off her clothing.Folded these were put on the table, with his robe.He locked her hands to a sturdy chain from the ceiling. He took thewhite cloth; with one hand gripped her hair and pulled back her head,and with the other he forced the cloth into her mouth. There was muchof it, and it would not all fit in her mouth. He pulled it out, andtwisted one corner, and forced it back into her mouth. “Swallow,”he commanded, and she let the cloth into her throat. This time he wasable to press all of the fabric into her. She gagged fiercely againstthe mass filling her throat, but so tightly was the cloth packed shecould not even vomit, neither could she move her jaw at all.He took a roll of tape and a squeeze tube from the wall; he smearedthe substance in the tube on her lips, then sealed over her mouth withthe tape. The distress of gagging against the cloth surged adrenalinethrough her, and her breath came ragged and panicked through hernostrils. She managed to control this quickly and her body stoppedspasming as violently.He took a heavy stick from the wall; it was black and had a grip atone end: a billyclub. He met her gaze once. His face was filled witha zen-like calm. She matched this within herself. Then he broke gazewith her, and raised the club.With a snap of his wrist and flex of his shoulder, the club hit herwith a meaty ///thunk///. He was older, but he was not weak. Thatblow summoned more force than she had ever seen used against a livingperson; nothing was held back. Wasting no time, he recoiled, andclubbed her again. Her breath was forced from her lungs.He proceeded to beat her. Each blow was a study in technique, aperfect culmination of study and skill in force and aim. Tearstracked down her cheeks, and she grunted and moaned and shrilled andgurgled in pain around the gag but all of these sounds were muffledalmost beyond his hearing. He walked about her as he beat her, beingcareful not to do any severe trauma to delicate areas, such as herk**neys. Blows fell across her belly, across her shoulders, herthighs, her breasts, her ribs, her calves. After a while, he ceased,and poured a drink of water for himself from the pitcher; he sipped atthe water for a time. Then he began again.She passed beyond tears, grunting faintly only because some blowspushed the air past her vocal cords. All of her awareness compactedto the immediate room. Her mind filled with the perfection of theconnection between swinging hardwood rod and her flesh. Each swingwas a need, and that need was fulfilled by her soft body accepting andintercepting the motion, stilling it and absorbing it. Each volume ofher body was a need, and the force of each impact dispersing deepthroughout her muscle was a fulfillment.She did not realize when he stopped, for her body hurt so. But it wasthe jingling of the keys and he reached up and unlocked her thatalerted her to the end of the ordeal. The manacles fell from thechain and she collapsed into his arms. He bore her down to the pallet,and cradled her in his arms. He smiled at her.“See,” he said stroking her throat, “You no longer gag.” Shenodded faintly, her head resting against his chest. He ran his handsover her bruising body. Her breath wheezed in and out of herconstricted air passage, but it no longer distressed her.He pulled the tape from her mouth. Then he pulled the damp waddedcloth from her mouth. She gagged a bit as he drew the last of it fromher upper esophagus. He massaged her neck around the collar, then sather up. He ran a short chain though the loop about her waist, andfastened each end to a wrist manacle. He stood and donned his whiterobe; holding her leash, and said, “Come with me.”He stopped in the hall to open a closet and get a pink shift for herto wear. It was light and pleasant against her skin. Then he leadher to the kitchen. It seemed strange to be in this place again whilein chains, but strangenesses were no longer her concern. He rummagedin the refrigerator, and put a handful of vegetables on the counter.He leashed her to the counter. He got a knife, a parer and a cuttingboard.“Wash, skin and chop these,” he instructed. She went to her taskwith a will. Her motions were clean and efficient, and she wascapable with the knife; but she found the limits on the motion of herhands to make her work challenging. She did not let it deter her. Heprepared meat and when they were done, he began cooking it, and sheset the kitchen table. Together they worked.When it was done, they brought the food to the table — her chainreaching that far where it was fastened, and sat to eat. She foundhis cooking very pleasing, and ate with a relish and a gratitude shecould not remember ever experiencing before. When she had cleared herplate, she realized that her Master was still eating. Her mind reeledfor a moment: had she erred? He laughed softly at her like onelaughs at the timidity of a c***d. He picked a slice of carrot fromhis plate and held it forth to her. She took it delicately in herteeth, and chewed it slowly and thoroughly; it hurt her abuse throat alittle as she swallowed. She licked his fingers clean.He laughed merrily, and slapped his thigh in summons. She fell to herknees at his side, and as he ate he would occasionally feed her fromhis hand. When he was done, he had her lick the dishes clean; sheclosed her eyes and hummed with pleasure as she did. They finishedcleaning in a more ordinary manner, with a dishwasher, and puteverything away.He brought her back into the further reaches of the house, and theycame to his bedroom. He stripped her of all but her manacles andcollar. He laid her down in his bed and locked her leash to theheadboard. He laid down beside her, and pulled the covers over them.He took her in his arms, pulling her back to his chest, and curlinghis knees against the backs of hers.“Did you like that?”“Yes, Master.”“Would you like to do that every day?”She thought about the question for a moment.“I would like to feel like that every day, but I would be afraid Iwould become acclimated to it, Master, if it were always the same.”“I have many, many ordeals to put you through, dearest. Go to sleepnow, and tomorrow there will be new acts to endure.” He kissed herbehind her ear, and with his face buried in her tresses, she fell intoa peaceful slumber.

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