Proxy by Shonk Chad J

Author:Shonk, Chad J. [Shonk, Chad J.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Antithesis Publshing
Published: 2013-11-19T08:00:00+00:00

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XII: DOMINUS

EVERY TIME I WOKE UP IN BIJAN'S BED, it took a long moment of luxuriating in the silk sheets that smelled of flowered oils and sweat to remember where I was. When I did, the tsunami of hate and despair and gross crashed into me, and I had to get up and out before it pulled me under and out to sea.

Bumps erupted over my bare skin when it hit air. My dress was on the floor; I stepped into it, pulled it up and hung it on my shoulders. I wanted my jacket, but it was in my chest in my cube with my mobi and the other gear I wasn't supposed to have on me while I was serving my Dominus. I could hear the shower in the other room, which meant I couldn't leave. Not until he came out and gave me permission. I slid into my sandals, put on my serpentine jewelry, tied up my hair and, to complete my morning ritual, jacked a good-size dose of nitrocodone by way of the unit in my neck.

“Good morn, my flower.” Bijan stood in the doorway, his body still glistening, his omnipresent hair matted and dark. I hadn't heard the water stop running.

“Good morn, Antonius.”

“How did you slumber?”

I hadn't managed to put together one night of unbroken sleep since I had come to Bijan to beg for leniency on my debts.

How do you think I slumbered? I was lying next to you. Every time you touch me, I want to carve the offended skin out with a scalpel, I thought. “Just fine,” I said. “Dominus.”

“You've already donned your gown.”

“Should I not have?”

“I believe you should never be engarmented. You possess a body that surely drives Venus herself into fits of envious rage and fevered Sapphic madness.” Bijan had spent the first week trying to get me to talk like him, but I was willfully inept at it, and he stopped. “It is spitting in the face of the gods to cover it. But the everyday Muslims amongst whom we live still cling to their ancient mores and a ridiculous sense of shame.”

When he mentioned my body, I couldn't help casting a brief glance down across the landscape. I had lost three or four kilos during my month of bondage. I couldn't see my ribs, but I knew they had begun to show. Bijan had more food around than anyone I knew, but I had no appetite. I ate only what I needed to sustain me, and sometimes less than that, and it all tasted like dirt. I was sure the stimulants hadn't helped, either.

Bijan made no move for a towel and instead swaggered across the room towards me, drizzling water along the tiles. He had had so much to drink the night before, it was surprising to me that he could put one foot in front of the other.

“You're expected in twenty minutes,” I said, hoping to get his mind on the business of the day.

He placed

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