Read Puppet On A String Online
Authors: Lizbeth Dusseau
Puppet On A String (17 page)
Coming back after five years was easy, though once
“You were almost frantic on the phone,
“It’s such a long, sordid story…and to be honest, I don’t even remember where we left off. I think that’s where I’d like to begin.”
“I believe you quit coming after you ended your relationship with Mr. Darcy. The last entry I have in your file, you were quite pleased to be working at the coffeehouse with your friend, buying a piece of the business and starting a new life on your own. You’d worked for months to bring yourself to the point that you could leave the man.”
“Yes, that’s right. I remember that now.”
“So, do we begin there? Or is there something more current you need to talk about?”
“Both I think. You see I never actually broke with Mr. Darcy…not completely.”
“Oh?”
“I wasn’t living with him as I had been. I did break that off, but I needed money…” She laughed nervously, “Isn’t that always the case?” She blushed revealing this, as she would blush before when revealing sexual information to the therapist. “Mr. Darcy, rather Clive – I’ve called him Clive since I quit being his slave girl. Clive had assignments for me where I could earn extra money. The first was with another sadist, someone he knew from his kinky sexual underground. He explained my mission as having a dual purpose. He was quite sure that I would suffer if I went cold turkey off the masochistic sex. He said I’d have nightmares and obsessions. That if I tried to renounce that lifestyle, I’d end up unhappy. I disagreed with him. I was certain that I didn’t need his hard brand of sex or anything associated with it. But he was right. I began having nightmares and obsessions. I know now that I could have eventually come to terms with that…but I was still just twenty-three and naïve about the world and myself. I returned to him two months after our break-up, a month after my last visit with you. I told him I’d be interested in his plan…
““It’s a simple arrangement,’ he said. ‘The man has needs, you’ll meet those, surrendering to his fetish, nothing more than that. He has a wife he loves, a life he cherishes. He needs you only to satisfy this one troubling corner of his life. It’s not actually troubling for the man. He loves his sadistic nature as much as I do mine; he just has a few more complications and I have arranged to see his need is met. You’ll provide that for him.’
“And that’s it?” I asked the man.
“‘Almost.’ He smiled in that shrewd way he had and went on to tell me that the man, Greystoke, was involved in some nasty and illegal business with known criminals. Clive was investigating him for some government agency, although he didn’t elaborate about that, he never did. He needed me to find out as much as I could about Greystoke. When I had the chance I would pick up the raw details of his life, the comings and goings, his travel plans, names of people he spoke with on the phone, that sort of thing. It was potentially a long term assignment. Not much could be gleaned unless I was there often enough to win his trust. The man had no idea what Mr. Darcy’s business really was. I mean everyone knows the man is a philanthropist, that he has a number of large corporations under his umbrella, but his intelligence operation…the network of private spies, the government connections, Greystoke had no idea about that.
“So, I took the job. By then, I was salivating for the kind of rough sex that had me unable to break with Clive even when I wanted to for so long.”
Shelby was fidgeting and nervous, wringing her hands in the old-fashioned sense, retreating again to child-like behaviors – biting her lip, sheepish smiles – suddenly the same bashful girl that had first come to Dr. Ramsey some years before.
“Tell me about this Mr. Greystoke,
The question was logical yet her nervousness shot up like a feverish temperature. This was what she came to talk about, but at first the words did not come out all that coherently.
“I arrived at his house and he showed me to his private room. It was weird, frightening. A total stranger. I’d been with strangers before, but never alone. Never alone like I was then. Greystoke was younger than I imagined he would be, the kind of man who makes me instantly on edge. All I could think of was fucking him…and suddenly, he’s on me. He walks around me, stalking me, his eyes looking as if they are removing my clothes. I tried to run from the room but he pulled me back. He locked the door, pocketed the key, twisted my arms behind me and then threw me over the end of his couch and thrashed my ass with a tawse until he ripped my skirt to shreds and I was down to nothing but my panties. I almost came in that fury of emotion – although I don’t think he knew that.”
“‘That’s punishment,’ he told me. ‘You’ll get more anytime you defy me. I have paid good money to use your body, which means that I really don’t care what you feel about the situation. Darcy assured me that you were owned property, his to do with as he saw fit.”
“I agreed with him. It wasn’t true that Darcy owned me – at least as far as I was concerned. But I had to agree with the man. I suspected that Mr. Darcy had given him that kind of guarantee, so Greystoke would know to trust the arrangement.”
“I have to,” she answered, although she felt more shaky than ever. Screwing up her courage, her story continued. “Once it was clear that there was no turning back, Greystoke tied me into an intricate body bondage and suspended me from the ceiling, practically upside down, my hands behind my back. My sex was bared, in fact, I was completely naked with my sex splayed wide so he could do whatever he wanted with my pussy and ass. I hung there until every muscle in my body was screaming. He seemed to know this. Maybe I was beginning to get restless inside the ropes – I hardly cared by then –
or maybe he just knew by instinct.
“You think he would have let me down, but instead, he began to beat me, systematically, methodically.”
“How did that feel to you?”
As if she’d run out of breath,
“What was Mr. Greystoke like?” the doctor asked.
“Handsome. Older. But not as old as Clive and he was truly handsome. Dark skin, dark hair, sophistication oozing from every pore, and such a polished way about him. He had a critical eye he would train on me in a demeaning way. Never, not even once did he praise me, although I sought his praise. Just once, I wanted him to tell me that I’d done my duty well.”
“And he never did?”
“No.” She shook her head, adamant about this fact.
“What else did you feel for him?” The question seemed purposeful with the doctor’s unwavering eyes bearing down on her.
“How did you know that?”
“My heart started to beat so strangely. He was all I could think of morning and night. I was fixated on him, lusting for him. He tied me up every time I went to his house for a session. The bondage became more and more intricate, more confining and extreme, and I began to yearn for the tight feel of his ropes. I could feel my body giving way to him, knowing that if I just let go and did everything he wished, he would love me too.”
“And did he? Did he love you too?”
“No.” Her voice turned hard and bitter. “Not that I could ever tell. But I kept trying to win his approval. He fisted my pussy once. I was suspended, and he held my swinging body against his while he worked his fingers into my cunt. My pussy was so small, his hand so large that it seemed impossible. But I willed his hand inside me. I worked with all my might to let go and allow him in. I thought that maybe this would make him love me – or at least show me some affection.
“But he was utterly cold—” She left off there and in the quiet that followed she let her own words sink in.
“So, you were in love with a man who could not reciprocate your love.”
“That’s it. I feel like such a fool for trying.”
“Did you feel like a fool then?”
“No, I was too naïve to imagine that possibility. Men are like that, withholding of their love until I proved myself to them. That was what Mr. Darcy made me believe, Greystoke was no different.”
“You believe all men are like that,
“I honestly don’t know,” she answered.
“We’ll take this up in your next session. I assume you’re coming back. I certainly think you should.”
There was no doubt in
After she left Dr. Ramsey’s office,
Chapter Twelve
Session Two
“…Mr. Darcy insisted that I come see him after my first session with Greystoke, then after every session that followed. Debriefing, he called it. I’d told him on the phone that there was nothing to tell him… no pertinent tidbits. I had no liberty when I was suspended, there were no conversations to overhear. But of course I went to Mr. Darcy’s office as he ordered. Like maybe my brain was still hardwired to respond to his demands. I silently, fumed when he ordered me to remove my clothes.
“‘I put you in the man’s hands,
“So, I removed my clothes and stood naked for him, while he inspected my body with a cold stare. He grilled me about the session with Greystoke. What kinds of things was I made to suffer? Could I take the bondage and the beating? Of course, I could. He’d trained me for nearly five years, what did he expect? There was nothing that Greystoke did that Mr. Darcy hadn’t already done to me and I’m sure he knew that. But he said that he didn’t trust the man and wanted no harm to come to me.”
“What is it you need to say?” Dr. Ramsey finally interjected into her remote and brooding silence.
She looked up, eyes stark. “I hated that when Mr. Darcy looked at me there were still feelings in me springing up out of nowhere. He made me confused, made me think I still wanted him, that I was still as much his property as I’d been before. After he finished with me, I’d get dressed, hating that he was still so much in control. I tried to swear him off. I really did. But after every session, it was always the same. I guess I needed Greystoke more than I needed to be done with Clive. I was so obsessed with the man that I couldn’t give him up. Clive knew this and used it to get what he was after.”
“How is that?” the doctor asked.
“Most of the time when Mr. Darcy made me strip, the inspections were impersonal. He was as cold as my cold lover. But then there were some days when…oh! I don’t know…he was in a different mood. I suppose I was too. That old spark was there. He’d start slapping my breasts or my ass or my pussy and I’d respond. I always responded to those things; that was something I couldn’t help. And when his fingers slipped into my ass or vagina, I knew what would come next. By then, I’d become addicted to the sensation. His cock would follow and we’d be fucking just as we fucked when he owned me. Brutal. Direct. Insensitive. I didn’t regret it. But I didn’t like it. And like Greystoke, he’d withdraw when he was done and send me on my way, ordering me to be gone…like his slave again. Actually, I think he treated me more like a slave then than he had before. At least when we were involved, there would be some kindness, some sort of affection, a smile maybe. There was none of that during those dreadful ‘debriefing’ sessions.”