Chapter Twenty One
Things were not going as smoothly for Brooke. More and more he was bedeviled with doubts and concerns he hardly knew how to articulate. It was mid-evening on a Thursday when he found himself standing in Stroud’s study, snarled up with the emotions of a guilty schoolboy called before the headmaster. Stroud was seated behind his desk, patiently awaiting Brooke’s revelation.
“I took Ever to the Knolls,” he blurted finally.
“She mentioned it,” Stroud replied with his customary reserve.
“What did she say?”
“Not much.”
“I’m not proud of it,” Brooke admitted.
“Did Ever consent to go?” Stroud asked.
“Yes. No. I don’t really know.”
Stroud smiled. “Are you still so unsure of her?”
“Hell, I don’t know. She goes along with all this like a well trained pet. God, she fulfills needs I didn’t even know I had! Maybe she only plays along with me because of you.”
“Maybe.”
“But she has needs, too!”
“Of course,” Stroud agreed. “Complex needs. She seeks to fulfill them by submitting to the needs of those who dominate her.”
“But what about her? Ever?”
“Ever the slave or Ever the woman?”
“Aren’t you splitting hairs?”
“No. One of the needs of the woman is to be a slave. The entire imperative of the slave is to meet the expectations of an exacting master.”
“I don’t see how she tolerates it.”
“She’s a masochist. It’s her pleasure to tolerate it. You must understand, this is Ever’s first real opportunity to steep herself in this lifestyle. She takes it quite seriously, which suits me.”
“But she’s afraid of you.”
“No, she isn’t.”
“Oh, Stroud, I’ve seen it.”
“It’s a cultivated fear. She must suspend disbelief well enough to convince herself I can enforce domination over her. That’s the majority of what you see.”
“And the rest?”
“The rest is genuine.”
“How do you justify that?”
“I don’t have to. Fear of me – of us. That’s what arouses her.”
“Well, I don’t think she wants to see me again.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Well, it’s apparent she hates me.”
Stroud smiled. “If you ask her, I’m sure you’ll get a different answer.”
“Ask her?”
“She’s very candid.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready for candid. Besides, we might find out you don’t know her as well as you think.”
“She’s moved in, you know,” Stroud said after a pause.
“Moved in? Here?”
“Not quite...”
Stroud opened the middle drawer of his desk and took out a key. “Come. Let me show you something.”
He led Brooke back to Ever’s little house. He keyed open the front door and switched on the downstairs light.
“Where’s Ever?” Brooke asked.
“At work,” Stroud replied, leading the way up to Ever’s bedroom/study.
“I don’t think she’d like us being here while she’s out,” Brooke said uneasily.
“We’re not here to invade anything,” Stroud said, “just to gain some insight.” He switched on the desk lamp which cast a warm glow over the majority of the room. “You tell me. Is this the environment of a victim?”
Brooke looked around. It was a comfortable little nest, neat, tastefully done. Throw rugs over wine colored carpet, surfaces polished, cozy bedside lighting. Along the wall from the French doors was a line of book shelves. More shelves were installed over the desk. Dictionary, thesaurus and other reference books.
“Late at night she sits here with the ‘works’,” Stroud said almost reverently.
“‘The works’?”
“Her works. She’s a writer.”
“I didn’t know,” Brooke said, looking more closely at the books on the shelves. Now he saw that many were actually note books of varying descriptions. “What does she write?”
“Erotica.”
“You’re kidding.”
“And she keeps a journal.”
“You’ve read her journal?”
“She’s opened it to me.”
“Now that’s a book I’d love to read!”
“It’s not the only one she keeps. There’s a diary exclusively for the slave personality.”
“You are kidding.”
Stroud smiled. “That, she won’t let me see. I don’t even know what it looks like.”
And Brooke could see that it made no difference to him. He could read the book now, or wait years for a glimpse into those secretive pages. He was in love with her.
Brooke’s small smile was tainted with sudden melancholy. In occasional fantasies he’d wondered what it would be like if one day Ever were to become his. Now he would never know.
“She’s an amazing woman,” he said.
“Yes,” Stroud agreed softly.