Kate knew that Elizabeth was right. That’s what she’d have to do.
The evening had dragged by slowly. Kate felt lonely and miserable. Unable to concentrate on her book, she tried to watch some television. How she was feeling made the offerings seem even more banal than usual. The only break from her gloom came in the form of a phone call: Helen, checking that she was okay. What would she do without Helen? They spoke for a long while, and it lifted her spirits. Helen agreed with Elizabeth, she should go to see Graham Weston. He knew what had happened, Richard said so, but there had been no contact. Neither of them could offer a plausible reason why. They both agreed, she would go first thing tomorrow. Helen would sort everything out at the gallery.
Tuesday 27th May.
Trying to show a degree of confidence she wasn’t feeling, Kate entered the Oakham office. Her frequent visits there counted for nothing, she felt nervous, a stranger amongst the familiar. Grace rose from her desk looking uneasy, her greeting more formal than warm.
“I’ve come to see Mr. Weston.”
“I’m sorry; he’s not in the office.” The flicking of her eyes and her hesitant voice led Kate to believe that the reality may be different. She needed to sort something out; she couldn’t let it drag on any longer.
“I’ll wait then, if that’s okay?”
“As you wish,” Grace said.
Two hours passed, people came and went, mainly to the other offices upstairs. Nobody went in or out from Weston’s office. Kate’s mind ran through the fateful events for the umpteenth time. How she longed for Weston to emerge from his office and tell her she was to be severely beaten, oh what joy those words would bring.
But nothing happened. She just sat and waited. As the morning turned to afternoon Grace brought her coffee and biscuits.
“He’s really not here Kate, you’d be better to go home.”
“I’ve been at home stewing over this for three days, I need to sort things out.”
“I know, but I don’t know what else to suggest.” Her sympathetic look persuaded Kate to give up her vigil. Beaten once again she left the office. Rather than return to the gallery she spent a large portion of the afternoon in the coffee shop, thinking, contemplating and regretting. She pictured Lloyd’s smug face revelling in his victory. She had to do something. The only possibility which presented itself was to contact Weston through the Oakham website. Why hadn’t she done that before? It seemed the obvious course of action.
As soon as Oscar had been fed Kate turned on her laptop and logged on. ‘Password incorrect’ the new window informed her. Three more attempts convinced her that there was no mistake on her part. She’d been closed out of the site. She was an outcast, ostracised by the group. She’d committed the gravest error and was paying the price. Never had she felt so alone. She realised that her expulsion was not the result of refusing to suck the tramp, it came for refusing to obey.
The human reaction of self-preservation took over. She didn’t need them. She would do without them, without being beaten and abused. She would go back to her old life, she’d choose when to have sex, and when to say no. Sod the lot of them.
Her first act of defiance sprang to mind. She rushed upstairs and searched through the wardrobe in the spare bedroom. There they were; her black tailored trousers. I can wear trousers if I bloody well like-and underwear.
She found out, then put on, some panties and a bra followed by trousers. She was pleased that they fit well, ten months after they were last worn.
She returned downstairs to prepare a light snack. After forcing down the ham sandwich, she went back to the bedroom and undressed. The underwear and trousers just felt wrong, uncomfortable and enclosing. Who was she trying to kid? She didn’t want her old life back, or want to choose, she wanted to be told.
In desperation she sent an Email to Weston, no password needed, she knew the address off by heart. She had pleaded many times before, most often while being punished, but this was genuine cold light of day pleading. She would do anything, accept any punishment if only they would give her one more chance and take her back into the group.
Any punishment of theirs she could cope with, she was living with her own punishment; her rejection.
The night followed the same pattern as the previous three; in bed, alone and crying.
Wednesday 28th May.
“Kate, Elizabeth’s here,” Helen called upstairs where she was tidying the storeroom, “shall I send her up?”
“No, I’m done here I’ll be down in a minute.”
“How’s she doing today?” Elizabeth asked, unsure of how much Helen knew.
“She’s okay, stronger than people give her credit for. She’s not right though, she’d never normally have cleaned up that storeroom.”
“Wanting to keep busy I suppose.” Elizabeth stopped talking as she heard Kate enter.
“Hi, Elizabeth, sorry about that. Doing a bit of sorting out.”
“I’ll leave you to it then,” Helen offered, walking to the front of the gallery.
“No need Helen.” Kate turned to Elizabeth. “Helen knows the whole story, she’s been great. I fancy a coffee break anyway; shall we go round the corner?”
“You two go, I’ll look after things here, I’ll see you later Kate.”
Stirring her steaming coffee, Elizabeth asked what progress Kate had made.
“Did you go to see Mr. Weston?”
“I went, but I didn’t see him, I waited, for ages actually, but he didn’t show. Perhaps he really wasn’t there, I don’t know. I sent an Email last night but got no reply from that either.”
“They have to say or do something, one way or the other.”
“I thought about what you said, on Monday, and you were right.”
“Right about what exactly?”
“That I’d been looking at this whole thing in the wrong way, and what I wanted from it.”
“And what have you come up with?”
“That I’d been living under some stupid illusion that it was all set up for me, to satisfy my own kinky needs and selfish cravings. I set out wanting to be submissive, to serve other people, but I’ve ended up being the powerful one, thinking these people are doing this for me, to satisfy my need to be humiliated not to satisfy their own desire to be in control. My God, I even wanted Richard to change for me, to fit in with my pleasure.”
“You’re being a bit hard on yourself…”
“No, I’m not, I’ve been selfish. Richard couldn’t beat me but I looked for ways to urge him on, get him to be stronger with me. Even at the Boardroom, I loved it, having those people wanting to use me, do things with me, but not for their pleasure-to satisfy me. I was the one in control; they were all helping me get my thrills.”
“It’s not like that Kate; don’t beat yourself up over this.”
“But it was like that and now I’ve blown it. I’ve lost my chance to put things right. That saying was right you know: you don’t know what you’ve got ’till it’s gone.”
“I’m sure it can still be sorted. When does Richard get back?”
“Tomorrow, but I don’t know what he can do-if anything. I suppose I’ve learnt that they were in total control after all. It seems they also have the power to say no, and in this case they have. And now I’m powerless to reverse it, all I can do is keep begging for another chance. And I’m prepared to do that. I’ll do anything to get back what I’ve lost.”
“You have to keep at it Kate, I’m sure it can be worked out.”
“Thanks, I hope so.”
54
The traffic seemed to be fairly light for a Friday morning, easing the tension for Kate.
“How did you set this up”?
“I went to see Graham on my way back from the airport yesterday,” Richard said.
“You’re so good; I couldn’t even get through his door.”
“I can’t promise anything will come of it, but we can give it a try.”
“I don’t deserve you, you know. I’m sorry for letting you down.”
“I know, and we’ve been through all that, let’s move on and see what we can do.” Kate sat back and watched the city passing by. Grateful for the chance to even attempt an explanation of her failing. She swore to herself that any offer of retribution would be seized with pleasure.
Arriving with time to spare, they weren’t invited to go straight through. Instead Grace asked them to wait in the reception area. Kate chose to take the hard upright chairs closer to the office rather than the more comfortable sofa. She sat with knees together and fingers curled into tight fists resting on her lap. She hoped that her impatience would not be too obvious.
Her mind was drawn back to the first time they sat there waiting. That was just before Grace had stood and watched her suck Eric; how much had happened since then. During the fifteen minute wait Kate’s nervousness increased. In a failed attempt to distract her mind she watched Grace devote herself to her work.
Was that the whole point? Was the purpose of the wait to make a statement? Thankfully there was no more time to dwell on that one, the buzzer made her jump, and then it made her heart race.
“Mr. Weston will see you now, if you’d like to go through.” Grace said, holding the door open for them.
“Thank you.” Kate caught her eye as she passed. There was no smile just a barely noticeable nod. What did that mean? Was that good or was she just being polite?
“Hello Richard, nice to see you again,” Weston said, smiling, as he rose from his desk, “Catherine.” The one word greeting made her fearful. The atmosphere was not one of reconciliation.
“What can I do for you?” He knows very well what he can do for us, Kate thought, he just wants to hear it out loud, rub salt into the wounds. Richard stepped in.
“I’d like you to consider taking Kate back into service with Oakham.”
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