Island IV – Meetings · Part 11 (11/21)
Previous · Next
Róisín nodded and sighed. “So they are, sir. Difficult but manageable, that’s how I’d describe it. Naturally there’s the curfew, to start. If for some reason I’m not home in time then I’m stranded wherever I wind up. You have to come and get me. Plus, there are the no-go areas, off limits to me unless I’m escorted. If I visit a store or restaurant, I have to scan my travel permit when I enter and leave; you get a report on all that. I’m not allowed to drive so you have to make transportation arrangements for me if I am to leave the house on my own.”
Alex knew about that last part. At first it bothered him, implying he couldn’t trust her. Now he saw it in a different light. Like everything else on North Island, the regulations were designed to make her all the more dependent on him. Any twinges of guilt about it were fast disappearing. He needed to be her provider, the one who fulfilled her every need. Maybe it’s the complement to her pleas for more supervision, he thought. Good or bad, I’m not going to discourage it.
Trust Issues The bank debit card arrived two days later. Róisín was in the living room, checking on new movies. He saw her glance down the hallway to the door while he was signing for the delivery. Evening deliveries weren’t common, though for items that required a signature he had to be home.
When he walked into the living room, she immediately placed the TV controller on the coffee table. Alex paused to carefully scrutinize her posture. Ankles crossed, knees together, hands palm down on her dress, everything lined up to perfection. As always, he saw the irony in how he was compelled to check that his own demand about her sitting position was rigorously enforced. And it was doubly ironic that if he failed to check the consequences were actually far worse for him than if she forgot. High standards; I insisted, I can’t dodge my part in enforcement.
He held up the envelope. “Good news!” He tore off the end and shook out the cards. “This is your revised travel permit.” He placed the first card on the coffee table. “I decided to increase the curfew start time, so you will have to be watchful about restricted hours.”
Róisín leaned forward to look them over. Her hands remained in position, palms down on her dress, so she couldn’t touch them. “Not my most flattering picture, sir.” He flipped it over so she could read the back. “No other restrictions, sir? That’s very thoughtful.”
“And this one is your bank card.” Alex chuckled while examining it. “Very pragmatic, a debit card is not cash, therefore you can use it for purchases.” He held out the card for Róisín to study.
She sighed, “same picture.” She glanced at the front and back. “No restrictions on this card? You’ll have to instruct me on how I should use these, sir. There should be a procedure about how I may ask to use them, where I can go, and what type of purchases are allowed.”
“In due time,” Alex replied. He picked up the cards. “For now, if an opportunity arises you may ask to go out on your own, except it must be at least a day in advance. I’ll go ahead and authorize your cards for one month at a time. We’ll discuss the debit card balance the day before you need to use it. Any problems I should know about?”
Once again, she looked like she was about to burst into tears. “Hey, what’s wrong? I figured it would be a relief to get out on your own for a few hours.” Alex put an arm around her shoulders. The reaction was so unexpected Alex wasn’t sure how to handle it. His plan to bolster her self-confidence was going well. I touched on some kind of emotional hotspot, but what affected her so much?
Róisín leaned her head against his chest and raised her eyes to look up at him. “You trust me, sir. It’s been more than two years since I had a travel permit, much less a debit card. I promise you’ll never have cause to doubt me.”
What brought that on? Alex had given his word he wouldn’t pry into her history with her prior owner, yet he had to wonder at her treatment. What did she mean by trust? The idea the cards could be used to engineer some kind of escape off North Island was ridiculous, not that he believed she would ever attempt to run away. It must be something else, something far deeper.
“I want to know what’s going on,” he demanded, adding a bit insistence to his tone. “What’s with this trust issue? Tell me.” Alex ended on a firm note, leaving her little wiggle room to dodge.
She sat up straight and took a moment to regain her composure. “My former owner, sir, he was having issues with my behavior. After a long lecture on how I had disappointed him, he announced I would have the travel and debit cards taken way indefinitely as punishment for my poor conduct. Since I could not follow even simple rules it was impossible for him to trust me being out on my own.
“I tried so hard to do better, sir. But it was never good enough.” Alex could hear the pleading in her wavering voice. “All I accomplished was to add to his anger. A week later he took away my phone and laptop, isolating me. Honest, sir, I worked day and night to overcome my failures. I was never good enough.”
Alex started at Róisín, stunned by what he heard. That jerk had virtually shredded every last bit of her self-esteem. It confirmed what he assumed about so much of Róisín’s personality. Her need for micro-management also stemmed from her fear of repeating what she believed to be past mistakes. He was sure there had been no such slipups. Her revelation confirmed his plan must be the right way to handle her.
“Sir? Should I…” She halted the instant he raised his hand.
“Give me a minute or two to consider what you’ve told me. I get the general idea; you don’t need to continue.” Once again, the question of how to rebuild her confidence? That begged the larger question, how did she measure her own success?
The direction of this conversation had to change, immediately. “Stand up, hands behind your back, now,” he snapped out the order. Commands like that were guaranteed to distract her from unpleasant thoughts.
One area where Alex’s “high standards” plan had shown immediate results manifested it’s premise of pride in perfection in the way she responded. From head to toe there was a “one right way” she never failed to attain. He took his time to enjoy her little performance. She would patiently wait as long as necessary while he scrutinized all the tiny details that must be delivered to him without any imperfections.
He ran his eyes up and down her form. Feet together; knees not quite touching; back as straight as a steel bar; hand precisely centered; fingers straight and pointed down; head up, rigidly held to the front; shoulders back; and all in a pose she would maintain until he gave his permission to relax. Róisín delivered the same breathtaking performance every single time. Could she do better? Alex didn’t think it was possible.
He reached behind his back for the pair of handcuffs resting in their holder on his belt. He had his part to play in completing the ritual, every bit as important as her own efforts. She remained immobile, frozen into a statue, while he slowly closed the metal bracelets around her wrists. Alex counted off the clicks of the ratchet, until he reached the correct number that ensured she was bound securely. She knew that number too, and would never forgive him if it wasn’t right.
“Hold still,” he told her, well aware the need to say it wasn’t necessary. He used both hands to run over the cuffs on her wrists, testing by feel to see if they were too tight, or worse, too loose. I do enjoy seeing her like this. She wants to please me, and this is one way that works.
When he moved his hands to her arms it was the unvoiced signal that his order was finished, releasing her from the self-imposed rigid posture even as it deprived her of a significant amount of freedom. She turned her head ever so slightly, to better gauge if she had met her obligations. Alex didn’t miss the slightest of smiles when she saw his visible approval of her success. This is what it takes, he realized. This isn’t insecurity; it’s pride in the making.
“New master, new rules,” Alex announced. “No more guessing games; my promise, you will be told exactly what to do. If, for whatever reason, you cross a boundary I set in place, you will inform me about it immediately. I’m not out to trap you, Róisín, that’s not who I am. If there really is a question of trust, it should be concerning how well you trust your own judgement. Don’t second-guess your intuition.”
It would take more than words to accomplish his fine declarations. Róisín needed to see tangible results before believing in herself.
In Public Online Alex was positive Róisín’s attitude had swung to the positive, after their talk the previous evening. She still insisted on a nonstop string of requests for permission that he would sooner leave to her discretion, although that was out of the question. I suppose it could be labeled as a sort of therapy, he told himself. Of course, that’s about as self-serving as it gets.
Over dinner he revealed the good news. “Your laptop and phone are ready. They’re out in the car. I’ll bring them in after we finish eating. I’ll need to know how your social network is set up. I assume I’ll have to sign off on something?”
“The way it usually works, sir, is I let my friends know I’m back online and have your consent to contact them. I’ll give you the names and you can grant permission through the contacts whitelist. Then you’ll get an email from their owners letting you know there’s no objection. If you’re not satisfied you can remove the name in my contacts whitelist. If you don’t object, you don’t have to do anything else. I am limited to the names you approve. Same for web surfing, you must set up online rules governing where I can go and what I can search on.”
Alex shook his head. “That’s far too much work. This is what we’ll do instead.” He secretly loved the moments when he could issue decrees from on high, without any push back. “I’m going to disable all the whitelist functions and web access rules. If a problem develops then I’ll tell you who or what to avoid. Otherwise, your access will be unlimited.”
Róisín stared at him, mouth agape. “Unlimited?”
Alex frowned in mock irritation. “I believe that’s the word I used. That doesn’t mean you won’t have restrictions.” Great, now I have to come up with something. Way to go, paint yourself into a corner, Alex.
“To start, you are forbidden to search for anything related to the Meiji Restoration, or any Japanese history before 1900. If you happen to encounter a reference, you will make a note of the date and time, the website, and report it to me as soon as possible. You will be diligent in halting any searches if they lead you to forbidden territory. That also applies to conversations, online, by phone or in person. You will excuse yourself with the explanation you are not allowed to continue. I’ll be adding more areas in the future, so you will want to keep a written list handy.”
She stared at Alex, wondering if he was making a joke or being serious. Better to err on the side of caution. “Yes, sir, I will. Uh…I don’t even know what this restoration is?”
He struggled to keep a straight face. It was a silly directive, she knew it, he knew it, but that was irrelevant. “Good, keep it that way. It’s recent Japanese history, by the way. That’s all you need to know. I will not discuss or explain why I ban certain topics.”
Róisín decided he was serious after all. “Of course, sir, you know best. I’ve never been allowed to surf websites on my own before now. I promise, sir, I’ll abide by your instructions on places to avoid.”
That was too easy, Alex concluded. “Now that I think about it, I didn’t go far enough. You are forbidden to read anything about Japanese, Chinese or Korean history, up to the current day. I know, stories will pop up in the news. You will see the headlines, that’s unavoidable, but you can use those as a guide on what to skip. I appreciate my limit will be difficult to maintain. You will find a way.” He ended with that matter-of-fact tone that ended any further questions.
She’ll have to take me seriously, with a broad boundary like that. The task wasn’t impossible, though it will require considerable diligence on her part. “From time to time you will inform me on how well you avoid the prohibited websites and stories. I want to hear from you, about how my rules, my oversight, is developing.” There, make me sound selfish; she won’t realize the real reason for what must be a ridiculous ban.
A Plea In The Night Alex was sound asleep when he woke to find Róisín clinging to him, shaking in fear from a nightmare. “Please, sir, don’t sell me! I’ll do better, if you give me a chance.”
She shook her, to wake her up. She opened her eyes, blinked a few times, and then began sobbing. He took her in his arms and held her, whispering that everything was fine. Her shivering gradually subsided when she came fully awake.
She nestled in his arms, using her own hands to pull his hold around her tighter. “I’m sorry I woke you up, sir.” She started to let go of his arm. “I’ll go sleep on the…” Her idea of getting out of bed came to an abrupt halt when the chain linking her ankle to the corner of the bed pulled taut. Asking to set out of bed was a request he decided to enforce in solid, physical form.
“There’ll be none of that kind of talk,” Alex rebuked her. “You will stay right here. You had a nightmare. Tell me about it.” Pressed against him, Róisín felt warm and inviting, as if they had been made to fit together. Her bare, silky-smooth leg rubbed against his, which brought up temptations he had to put aside for the moment.
“The worst kind of nightmare, sir, because it seemed so lifelike. I was in a closet, ordered to stand in a corner, facing the wall. The door was shut; I was in the dark. I could hear you shouting at me, saying I was so disgusting you couldn't even bear to look at me. I wasn’t worth the effort any more. You were going to take me to a brokerage first thing in the morning. That’s when I woke up.”
“Your dream will never come true, Róisín. I’m not the same man as your previous owner. I can’t imagine something like will ever happen. No matter how angry I may get, it will never reach the level where I would part with you. Whatever else may be, we are joined forever and a day.” He kissed her forehead. “Why would I ever give up such a valuable treasure as you? I may not be the smartest man on North Island, but I’m sure I’m a lot brighter than the man that didn’t want you.”
“Really, sir? You mean it?” He could hear the relief in her voice. To his ears his little speech, while heartfelt, as usual sounded trite and rehearsed. To Róisín it went a long way toward calming her fears.
“If I didn’t mean it, I wouldn’t have said it,” he told her. “I will withhold from you if I am convinced it’s best, but I’ll never lie or deceive you, Róisín.”
“Yes, sir, when I need to know. I can be very patient when you don’t give me a choice.”
Alex had to stifle a laugh. “Ahh, Róisín, you have a talent for stating the obvious in such a pleasant way.”
Dilemma In the morning Alex still had a difficult question rolling around in his head. Róisín was asleep when he woke up, so he left her in the bed. While shaving Alex stared at the mirror, trying to resolve some conflicting emotions.
Okay, Alex, you have to make the call. Either he put a stop to her increasing reliance on him to micro-manage her life, or let her keep going until she wasn’t able to get through even the simplest daily routine without his constant input. Sure, he had his plan, but was that just a rationalization? Under normal circumstances the answer was simple, call a halt to limit her dependency. However, this wasn’t anything like normal.
Róisín’s plea last night, not to sell her, spoke volumes as to how traumatic sudden rejection had affected her. Alex began to understand just how close she had come to a complete breakdown before he bought her. She was terrified it would happen again. Any action on his part that hinted in that direction might have unpredictable consequences.
As if that wasn’t enough, he had to confess to a selfish, even sinful indulgence. It was difficult to admit, but Alex didn’t want to put a halt to her “need”. In his entire life he never imagined he would have such incredible power over someone, especially a woman like Róisín. Not only didn’t she fight against his control, she actually worked to extend it in ways he never considered.
Alex had become her rock of stability, and she was doing everything possible to cling to it. The speed at which she figured out how to get to him was unsettling. Even though he might have all the power in the relationship it was still far from one-sided. Róisín instinctively knew what it took to persuade him to head in the direction she sought for the two of them. Sure, Alex could always say no, except she’d woven a web in his head that inexorably drew him in.
“Sir? Are you in there?” she called out, with just a hint of worry in her tone.
Alex came out of the bathroom, wiping his face with a towel. “How’d you sleep last night? Ready to get up?” He pulled off the sheet covering her.
“Best night in weeks, sir. I’m okay for now if there’s something you need to attend to. I will need to get up in about half an hour, or else the bed will be a mess.”
He went around to his side of the bed, opened the drawer in the bedstand and took out the key. She watched him but said nothing. At the foot of the bed, he reached down to unlock the shackle on her ankle. “You may leave the bed and take a shower.” He gestured toward the bathroom.
“Yes, sir. Will I be allowed to dress today? Should I pick out something for your approval?”
She looked up at him expectantly. She had been so persuasive when explaining how well she slept at night if she were chained in place that he quickly gave in. Not that he objected; his only regret was he didn’t think of it first. Last night he was glad he listened to her.
Two days ago, she started in with her clothes. If, and only if, he agreed she could get dressed then he also had to approve what she could wear. There he decided to draw a line, ordering her to make a choice first. Once again, she’d somehow zeroed in on what would please him. He had to specify whether she should select a dress or a skirt and top. He still didn’t quite understand at what point he’d compromised on his original intention not to get involved in the details.
“I came to a major decision about you this morning.” Her expression immediately went to apprehensive.
“Sir, I…” she began.
“Remain silent until I allow you to speak.” That cut her off immediately. “Don’t panic. I think you’ll approve of what you hear.” Alex grabbed the chair next to the dresser and sat down next to her, by the edge of the bed.
“Here is my dilemma. All this supervising you, far more than is usual, worried me. I believed it wasn’t healthy, the way you are so dependent on me. What’s the right thing to do? While staring at myself in the mirror I found the answer.”
He could see Róisín was anxious. She had that look that said she expected a severe reprimand, if not outright punishment for failing him.
“What I had to admit was I don’t want you to stop, or even slow down. Róisín, you are to keep on pointing out ways I can exercise my power over you. I’ll try to contribute, but I have to admit you are in a much better position to bring the, umm, possibilities to my attention.”
When the tears began to flow, he took her hands and lifted her up. Taking her in his arms he held her tight. “That’s an order, in case you have any doubts. If I catch you holding back, I will be quite upset. There are no boundaries; if I don’t like the idea, I’ll let you know and we move on. If, when that happens don’t be discouraged. Your job is to bring suggestions to me. My job is to decide which ones we’ll use.”
She clung to him, her head on his chest. He could feel the tears falling from her cheeks.
Tom’s Story
It Ends Today “No way I can get you to change your mind?” Even as he asked the question sounded like childish begging. From the expression on her face, it was obvious all he’d accomplished was to confirm what she knew and he suspected.
After the first year Tom had been full of unbounded optimism. He and Greta were made for each other, and nothing would ever come between them. The first, one year agreement had come and gone, not exactly perfect but they’d both worked hard to make it a success. Then came the renewal and the unstoppable downward spiral to failure. The current agreement expired at noon today. Greta had been emphatic that she wanted out.
“No, sir,” she replied. “It’s over and it ends now. We have to face the facts; we are not compatible. There’s no blame, no acrimonious parting. I do wish you well.”
The harsh reality that he didn’t want to admit left no doubt she was right. He slid a plastic bag across the table. “Here’s your passport, your checkbook and bank cards, driver’s license and all the other documents you had to surrender. Are you sure you don’t need any money?”
“No, sir, I’ll be fine on my own. Don’t worry about me.” She stared at the bag but didn’t pick it up. “There’s still fifteen minutes to go, sir. You don’t mind if I wait?”
Technically she did belong to him until noon. Greta had always zealously adhered to the laws regarding collared females. Which reminded him of one last task. He stood and walked back to the safe. She turned her head to watch but said nothing.
He came back and sat down, placing a low, flat cardboard box on the table top. They sat at the table, sipping their cups of coffee in silence. When the clock in the living room chimed the noon hour he stood up.
“Stay where you are for one more minute. I have something for you, before you go.” He walked behind her, parted her hair and inserted the key in her collar. Turning it, the click of the lock was loud in the quiet. He pulled apart her collar and removed it from her neck.
She raised a hand to her throat. “Odd, it’s like a part of me is missing.” Tom didn’t miss the subtle shift; she no longer used “sir” when addressing him. If he tried to order her around now, she had every right to tell him where to go and how to get there, in the most colorful terms.
He placed the now empty collar in the box, along with both keys. Closing it he pushed it toward Greta. “It’s yours. If you ever decide to wear one again, it has your registration number on it. If nothing else, think of it as a memento of our time together.”
The doorbell rang. Greta stood up, opened her purse and dropped the plastic bag with her papers in it. She turned toward the door, hesitated, and then reached down to pick up the flat box. “Thank you for not making this unpleasant, Tom. I guess this is goodbye.”
Extreme Measures “Have a seat, Mr. Cooper.” Ray Madsen gestured to a chair facing his desk. “Thanks for making the trip. I know North Island isn’t exactly the favored destination for our neighbors across the Channel.”
“I don’t mind,” Tom replied, “although given the reason for this visit, I’ll concede this is the best place for introductions.”
Straight to business, Ray appreciated having to skip the usual socializing. “To be clear, you are looking for a companion, of the female persuasion, without the irritations of the usual South Island agreement system?” He leaned back in his chair, carefully studying the man across from him. According to his form he was a career fireman, specifically Search and Rescue, therefore used to quick, decisive action. Plus, he was a vet; two tours of duty in the Army, serving on front line helicopters rescuing downed pilots and handling medevac dust-offs. No, there would be no need to speak in euphemisms.
“Yes, I am.” Tom met Ray, eye to eye. “As I stated, I’ve recently exited from a failed agreement type relationship. To be blunt, the fault was primarily mine. Much as we enjoy success, it is our failures that teach us what not to do next time. I’ve gone over what I did wrong in great detail, these last few months. It won’t happen again.”
Ray nodded. “When it comes to long term relationships, we often blow it the first time. I can make allowances for that. A record of the same thing happening two or three more times, that gives me pause.
“There are many misconceptions about brokerage houses on North Island. I don’t mean to badmouth the competition, but sad to say in a few cases the poor reputation is deserved. I like to think Madsen Brokerage doesn’t fall in that category. We do not mistreat the women who find their way here, nor do we do business with the mental cases.”
“Assuming I’m not disqualified as one of your ‘mental cases’, can you make a recommendation for me, out of your inventory?” A nice euphemism, inventory, Tom joked to himself.
