Her Father, My Master: Enthralled (13 page)

To my surprise, I found out that
evening.

He had left me to my own devices
for dinner, and I decided to make something that I knew well, something that my
mom had made for me time and time again – New Brunswick stew.  I was surprised
to see that my master happened to have all the ingredients available, but I was
thankful, and dove into cooking it in the early afternoon.

When dinner time rolled around, Mr.
Hendricks entered the kitchen, and I proudly doled out a bowl of the stew.  It
was the first time I'd taken the initiative to make anything in his house.  I
usually had instructions on what to make, and a recipe to follow.  He froze
when he saw the bowl, though.

I felt nervous.  Had I done
something wrong?  “Is something the matter, sir?” I asked hesitantly.

“No, no,” he sat down at the
kitchen table, staring at the bowl.  “It's just that this was Molly's favorite
meal.  I never thought...” he trailed off.

I took my chance to learn more
about this mysterious woman.  All I knew of her was that Mr. Hendricks was
married to her, and he cheated on her, and he blamed himself for her death. 
“What else did she like?” I asked lamely.  I wished I could think of a better
way to continue the conversation, but I could never think well on the fly.  I
just wanted him to keep talking about her.  And I wanted to know more about
him.

“Roses,” he said.  “She had a rose
bush on our base housing.  And birds, she loved birds.  She loved being
outside.  And reading.  She read a book every week, it seemed like.”  He smiled
as he continued to stare at the bowl.  “I read more than anyone in my platoon,
because of her.”  He looked up at me sharply now.  “You have to understand
something, Krystal.  Nearly everyone cheats in the Marines.  The marines did,
and their wives did.  It was just this unspoken thing.”

“But you said Molly didn't,” I
replied, a little confused.

“You're right, she didn't.”  He
sighed.  “You could tell, when a guy's wife started cheating on him.  The
letters would stop coming, the care packages would stop coming.  Everyone on
base would relay how many cars were in your driveway, night after night.  There
was one guy in my platoon, Kenny.  His wife was fucking every man on base, and
some off of it too.”  He shook his head.  “But not Molly.  I never heard
anything like that about her.”

“But... why?” I asked, and he knew
what I was asking.  I wasn't asking why Molly never cheated.  I was asking why
he did.

“You have to understand, everyone
cheated.  Everyone in my platoon was convinced that Molly was cheating, and I
believed them.  I don't even know why.  I resented her, for being unfaithful,
for fucking other men in my bed, for loving other men, even though I didn't
have any proof at all.  And it was my undoing.”

“The accident,” I murmured.  I
almost didn't want to bring it up.  It's what stopped him from talking about
Molly to me the last time this was brought up.

“You know what it's like in the
desert?” he asked, seemingly changing the subject.

“No, sir.”

“I do.  I spent months there.  Have
you ever been the to beach?”

“Yes, sir.”

“It's like that, only drier, and
you can't escape.  Sand gets everywhere.  In your shoes, your socks, your
underwear, your pack and your clothes.  Even gets into your dreams.  The sand
and the heat drive you mad.”

“I didn't know that.”  I was
fascinated though.  I wanted to learn more.

“You know what it's like, being
surrounded by sex-deprived, testosterone ridden men, fighting a war for oil
magnates, for fucking fat CEOs sitting in America in their comfortable, air
conditioned offices while you sweat out your body weight every day?”  Though
the words were incendiary, he remained calm, speaking in a hushed, low tone.

“No, sir.”

“The desert changes you.  It
changed me.  I was never the same, after I came back from Kuwait.”

“Is that why you believed them?  About
Molly?”

He shook his head.  “I didn't
believe them.  I never really believed them.  I was a selfish young man, and I
just wanted to kill ragheads and drink myself to death over there.  I didn't
care about anyone but myself.”

“But, you're different now, right?”

“Not really.  I've just learned to
control it better.”

“Is that why you like control so
much, sir?”  I sat down at the table now, and my master began to eat his stew.

“Yes.  If you can control yourself,
you can do anything.  I hope I've taught you that much.”

“Anything, sir?”

“Well.”  He shifted in his seat,
and dropped his spoon into the bowl.  “Almost anything.”

“But you couldn't save Molly.”  It
was risk saying that, and I knew it.  The only thing making me even brave
enough to say that was the fact that I was wearing my leather collar.  I
brought a hand up and reflexively figured the smooth, warm surface.

“You're right, I couldn't, but I
hadn't learned control by then.  I was a stupid, stupid young man.  I was so
focused on myself that I couldn't possibly take care of another person.  I
didn't deserve Molly.  I didn't deserve to marry her, and she didn't deserve a
shit head like me.”  He sighed.  “I never loved another woman, after her.”

I don't know why, but I felt my
blood run cold, at that.  I already knew he didn't love me.  I knew our weird
relationship wasn't like that.  I knew he would never love me.  But I couldn't
help but feel a pang of something.  Regret?  Envy?  “What about Maddie's mom?”
I asked, tamping those irrational feelings down as curiosity got the better of
me.  I wanted to know more about him, as much as possible.

He snorted.  “Her?  She was a random
hookup, someone I found shortly after Molly died.  After I got back from the
war.  After the war ended.  I never loved her.  That was why she finally left
me.  She couldn't take it.”

“Do you love Maddie?” I asked.

“Of course I do.  She's my
daughter.  I don't regret what I did with Denise.  I don't regret her having
Maddie.  I don't regret marrying that woman.  But I didn't love her.  I just
wanted to give Maddie the kind of life I never had.”

“Your parents were divorced?”

“Oh yes.  My dad was just like I
was.  A loud, rowdy, randy Marine.  My mother hated it, she couldn't stand it. 
I don't even know how they met.  In high school, I suppose.  They never told
me.  They divorced when I was five, and my mom moved to Oregon, to join some
fucking hippy commune, as my dad put it.”

“You don't like that?”

He shrugged, and began to eat again as our topic veered away from the sensitive
subject of Molly.  “I never saw her after that.  It was like I didn't even have
a mother, since my dad never remarried.  I didn't want Maddie to go through
that.”

“That's really noble of you.”

“Noble?  Noble?  It's just the
right fucking thing to do.  Every child should have the benefit of both of
their parents.  I hated being in a broken home.  It made me a terrible human
being.  It was only through sheer force of will that I was able to overcome
it.”

“You're not a bad person.”

“Maybe I'm not.  But I've done bad
things.  Things I regret.”

“But you did good things too.  You
treated Maddie and Denise well.”

“I treated them like Molly deserved
to be treated.  I did it for Molly.”  With each word that he spoke, he grew
more and more introspective, and I could see he was falling out of the mood to
speak at all.  Soon, we would drift back into our roles.  It would be weeks, if
not months before I would get the chance to talk to him about this again.

But I hazarded to ask one last
question.  “This is why you're so focused on me having control, too?”

“It's something I want you to have,
for your own sake.  I don't want you to make mistakes like I did, in my life. 
I see Molly in you.  She looked like you.  She acted like you.”

I lifted an eyebrow.  “Is that...
is that why you picked me?” I asked in a soft voice.

He laughed.  “I didn't pick you. 
You picked me, remember?”

I did remember, those long months
ago, very nearly a year.  I blushed at the memory of that ridiculous, awkward
proposition, coming on the heels of Maddie cheating on my now-ex boyfriend,
Joey.  I wasn't proud of what I'd done, but I was glad to have done it.  My
master had taught me so much about myself, and the world.  Being with him was
no mistake.  I felt warmth flood my body.  I'd made the right decision, I was
sure of it.

“I do remember, sir,” I finally
replied, and he waved his hand at me in a dismissal.  I stood, and left the
room, wandering up to my own room to wait for him to finish eating, so I could
eat and then clean the kitchen.

It didn't take long.  My master was
usually considerate enough of me to finish eating quickly, and he was in his
study when I crept back down the stairs.  The house was silent, almost eerily
so.  I wondered if I ruined my chances for a play session tonight, with that
talk with him.  I didn't regret it, if I had.  I wanted to know more about him,
and now I did.  I knew why he craved control.  I knew why he wanted me to have
that control as well.  The information was indescribably valuable to me.

I sat on one of the bar stools at
the counter as I silently ate my stew.  I did miss him, though.  I had a
strange feeling that I wouldn't see him again tonight.  My suspicions were
wrong this time, though.

He came to me, just as I was
finished cleaning the kitchen.  I sensed his presence, but he didn't say
anything, and neither did I.  He simply wrapped his hands around my neck,
encircling his fingers around my collar.  I wondered for a moment if he would
choke me, but he merely removed the leather collar.  He fingers traced a line
around the metal one underneath.

“Come to bed,”  he commanded, and I
obeyed.

There was no play involved in our
session that night.  Mr. Hendricks apparently was not interested in the more
elaborate aspects of our play, not after than conversation we had.  He only
took me, and our lovemaking was intense and full of passion.  It was how I
imagined it would be, if he loved me.  If I loved him.  On some level, I did
love him.

But I had to control that feeling. 
My teenaged brain wanted to just fall for him, to fall head-over-heels in love
with this man, my master, but the logical part of me ushered that urge away. 
It worked, to a degree, but the more I knew about my master, the more I wanted
to love him.  It would be a mistake, though.  It would ruin everything.  I
couldn't afford to do it.

But it was hard, and harder still when 
he took me like this.  He was sweet, as sweet as if he loved me, and he kissed
me all over, from my flushed forehead, all the way down to my toes.  And he was
attentive, so attentive.  He made sure that I came with him, and he wasn't
rough at all.

I realized, as he fucked me, that
this was the most dangerous kind of sex of all.

“Oh, Molly,” he murmured into my
ear, his cock buried deep inside me, and I froze.  My entire body tensed up as
I realized what he was doing.  What he was playing at.  This was dangerous for
both of us, but I couldn't stop it.

And I couldn't help but feel a pang
– more than a pang – of anger, jealousy, and outrage.  It was the first time I
ever felt like I was being used in a way I didn't quite like.  But it was like
Mr. Hendricks was under a spell, and I didn't want to break the spell for him. 
My need to please him was greater than anything.  I bit my tongue, and kept the
safe word back and away from my lips.

I closed my eyes, and he gyrated
against me, moving faster and faster now.  He didn't utter Molly's name again,
but I knew what he was imagining, what he was thinking.  Faster and faster he
went, thrusting against me, his cock slipping in and out of me.  I could tell
from his movements that he was going to come soon.

And come he did.  He let out not a
bellow, not a possessive roar, but a more scaled back moan as he gripped my
shoulders.  His climax broke the spell.  He opened his eyes, and looked down at
me.  He almost seemed surprised.

“I'm... I'm sorry,” he said
quietly, pulling out of me and away from me.  He didn't even bother getting
dressed or cleaning up.  He simply left the room.  He left me alone.

What had just happened?  I laid on
the bed, trying to take it in.  My master didn't have feelings for me.  He
couldn't.  And I didn't have feelings for him.  He only did that because he
wanted to try to recreate what he had with Molly.  He was desperate for it. 
And I was so desperate to please him, I would let him do anything to me. 
Anything he wanted.  Even if it ended up hurting me.  Or him.

I sighed heavily and squirmed on
the sheets.  I hoped this wouldn't ruin whatever we had.

Chapter
11

The following weeks in the house
were strange, to say the least.  Mr. Hendricks seemed particularly quiet and
out of sorts, and he didn't engage in any play with me for a few days.  I
continued to do my chores, and I excelled in my schoolwork, but most of all, I
missed him.  Though he was in the house, I missed his presence.  He just wasn't
mentally there.  And I knew where he was.

With Molly.

His mind was with a dead woman, a
woman I'd never met, and a woman I could never compete with.  How could I
possibly measure up to a dead woman?  She would never make a mistake, while I
made many.  She'd never grow old in his mind.  She'd never falter in her love.

I tried to make myself not care. 
This wasn't that kind of a relationship, I repeated to myself, over and over,
day after day.  But Molly interfered with even what we did have.  My master
wasn't acting like my master.  He was just acting like a man, and a lonely,
tortured one, at that.

I just wanted things to go back to
normal.

Winter slowly melted its way into
spring, and for the first time, I found myself yearning to be going home.  For
one thing, Kandace would not be there, so I could relax a little more.  My
secret would be safe.  For another, tensions only grew with each passing day in
my master's house.  I could sense that we both needed a break.  We needed time
away from each other.