One Way Street · Part 4

One Way Street · Part 4 (4/4)
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u’ve done. Sally is disgusted with you. No one will help you now.”

At some point the screams of agony settle down into constant sobbing. It was clear to Darla he was a broken man. It might take years of therapy in a mental hospital to restore his sanity.

Mr. G walked around the separating wall. Sally gestured toward Jimbo. “I’m finished. You can transfer him, as planned.” There was a callous disregard for Jimbo’s welfare in the tone of her voice.

Mr. G disappeared, pushing Jimbo’s restraint chair out to the hallway headed to…where? Darla had no idea but it didn’t sound promising for his future. Sally started to follow them, but just before she vanished from view she suddenly stopped, turned and came back to face Darla.

“You,” she began, “interfered. Sally never forgives. Sally never forgets.” Darla’s eyes locked with Sally’s bright blue eyes. Behind them there was a dead, hard coldness devoid of any humanity. For the first time in her life Darla looked into the empty soul of a true psychopath.

Blue Skies “Have a good trip, Sally. Remember, any time you’re in the Southern California area, just give me a call and I’ll send the plane to pick you up. I’d ask you to drop me an email now and then but on reflection that might not be a good idea.” Mr. G was walking Sally out to the plane back to Los Angeles.

“I appreciate the offer, Gary. Yeah, email is out of the question. Country of origin and all that, raises too many red flags when the traffic crosses borders.”

Mr. G nodded in agreement. “Anyway, your Jimbo was picked up by an ambulance this morning. I trust he’ll be looked after?”

Sally shrugged. “I don’t get involved in subjects after the job is over. Gary, if you want to continue in this particular line of business it’s better you don’t ask questions, and don’t try to follow up on your, umm, visitors. The money is excellent, but in return you need to cultivate a very poor memory.”

For one moment Mr. G forgot who he was talking to. Psycho Sally had such a disarming way about her; it was easy to dismiss who she was and what she did for a living. “Point taken, Sally.” He gazed up at the ubiquitous clear blue skies above. “Blue skies, smiling at me, nothing but blue skies do I see…” he sang in a horribly off key voice.

Sally actually started laughing, a rarity. “Very good, Gary, and so appropriate! You know, I was disappointed when I wasn’t able to have a long chat with your Darla. She is so interesting! I’d love to hear about her past.”

“Sorry, Sally, but as you know, I’m here to provide a service, and not judge my clients. Darla, well, she’s here for a specific purpose. I regret it doesn’t include room for your unique conversational skills. Decisions have already been made about her future.”

Sally shook her head. “That’s too bad, but I understand.” At the plane Mr. G handed over her luggage to the pilot. “Thank you for your hospitality, Gary. I hope we’ll see each other soon. You have a wonderful place here, so peaceful, so…isolated.”

Before she shut the door to the plane cabin she turned back to Mr. G. “The loose ends with Darla? Don’t concern yourself. I’m happy to help. It’s being taken care of as we speak. Her sponsorship is confirmed. All I ask, when she leaves, remind her that Sally never forgets.”

Graduation Darla sat up on her bunk. The last day, I’m going home this afternoon. An entire week of bondage and control; it was an experience she would always remember. No safeword, no way out, yet it didn’t affect her at all, at least not in a bad way. The plane would take her back to the outside world, to what now felt like nine to five drudgery. If there was an element of disappointment it was entirely because she knew it had to end.

Mr. G’s assistant, Darla still didn’t know her name, walked up to the bars of Darla’s cell. “You will wear this dress today. Mr. G asked that I inform you there will be a short ceremony to mark your departure. The uniform is traditional. I will not answer questions. Mr. G will come for you shortly.” She hooked the hangar on one of the cell bars and left. Faintly Darla heard the same speech being delivered to Anita in the next cell.

Last night Mr. G had left off the collar, without an explanation. Now it made sense; she couldn’t put on the dress over her head while chained to the wall. After taking it off the hangar she slipped it over her head.

There wasn’t much to it. It left a lot of skin exposed but did cover the essentials. What struck Darla as unusual were the letters “D. O. C” stenciled on the back. She had no idea what they signified.

A few moments later Mr. G appeared, carrying a canvas bag. “Good, you’re ready. If you would be so good as to turn and face the wall? We have a few hours before the plane is scheduled to leave. I like to end every guest’s stay with a little memento, something to help you keep the memories of your visit fresh.”

Darla turned to face the wall. She had no clue as to what he intended but his explanation seemed reasonable. Her memories of this place, while mostly positive, were clouded by that incident with Sally. And there was still that nagging feeling that the experience, while enjoyable, left her feeling vaguely disappointed, though she couldn’t put her finger on the reason why.

She heard Mr. G unlock the cell door. A moment later he wrapped a familiar chain around her waist, before locking it on with a padlock at her side. Looking down the ubiquitous pair of handcuffs dangled from the chain, along with something new. A connecting chain ran down to a set of leg irons, which Mr. G was busy fastening around her ankles.

“Face me,” he ordered, in that firm but not harsh tone she loved to hear. The handcuffs went around her wrists, not tight but close enough that she couldn’t slip out of them. She brushed against the collar hanging on the wall, behind her. Maybe I can wait here a while longer, nicely trussed up, chained to the wall, sitting on the bed while staring at the cell bars. I could ask…

No, she couldn’t. Mr. G clearly had plans of his own, and he was in charge. Whatever she wanted, it wasn’t important. Overpowered, helpless, the rising compulsion in her to obey him was too strong to overcome. Moving slowly she pulled on the cuffs. Cold steel had a certain unyielding quality that exerted its own authority over her body.

Mr. G took hold of her, his large hand easily wrapping around her supper arm. “Let’s go, into the hallway. Say goodbye to your room. I trust it was decorated to your taste?”

Darla almost laughed at his question. Objectively, the cell had to be the worst ever hotel room she’d ever been in. “Yes, sir. The accommodations were everything I hoped for, especially the, umm, rather unique wall decoration.” Sleeping while chained by the neck to the wall would be a lasting image in her head. “My only criticism, sir, is the paint scheme. It is a bit on the drab side.” That was an understatement. Everything was the same depressing shade of gray. She had to admit it did add to the ambiance of a prison cell.

Darla stood with her back to the wall while Mr. G closed and locked the door to her now former cell. “I’ve heard that from several visitors.” He leaned back, one hand on his chin, surveying the now empty room. “I see your point. However, we spent some time researching the color scheme before settling on this particular shade of gray. It may not be the most appealing, but then the comfort level of the occupant was not high on our list of requirements.” He smiled at Darla while replying.

“I can’t argue with your logic, sir.” A week spent in that tiny, cramped cage and already she was missing it.

“Congratulations are in order. You made it through the entire week without begging to end it prematurely. I’d say about thirty percent of our first time visitors can’t hold out. We still don’t let them go, of course. I honor my commitments. Was it difficult, making the adjustment?”

No safeword, I’d forgotten all about it. That by itself was a shock when she realized how she’d changed. “Since you mention it, sir, I didn’t have any problems, which is strange in itself. On the way here, in the plane, I worried about that, the part about not being able to call a halt and walk away. Even the first night, with that thing around my neck, it was scary. By the second night I wasn’t so frightened. I’m not sure when I simply began to ignore the fact I was in it for keeps, as it were.”

Here was an odd expression on Mr. G’s face. If Darla had to put a name to it, she’d go with relief, though it didn’t make any sense. They were headed toward the tunnel exit, what she thought of as the locker room. Anita’s cell was already empty when they passed by.

“Aren’t you curious about what’s on the other side of the door?” They came to a halt in front of the heavy door separating the tunnel and the rooms inside the mountain from the rest of the house.

Darla shook her head. “No, sir; I’m sure you’ll explain it all when I need to know.”

On the Last Day Darla stood at the back of the room, watching while Mr. G set up a camera tripod. Anita stood next to her, identically dressed in the odd uniform and wearing an identical set of chains. Behind them there was one of those height charts, like the type used in old mugshots.

“Remember Polaroid cameras? They’re still around.” Mr. G aligned the camera through the viewfinder. “Old fashioned, but there’s no digital record. I take a mugshot to commemorate your stay. I destroy the negative while you watch, so you get the only picture. We’ll start with you, Anita.”

Mr. G led Darla off to one side, out of camera range. “Stay there until I’m finished. Remain quiet.” He was assertive, apparently right up until the last moment. Darla didn’t mind.

“Okay, let’s get you centered. Look straight ahead. You can smile if you like, although if this were real you wouldn’t be feeling very cheerful.” He lined up Anita in front of the camera.

A whirring sound and the old style instant photo slid out the front. Mr. G placed it on the table and picked up his phone. “It needs a minute to develop. Let’s see how this one turned out before we continue, Anita.”

When the phone beeped Mr. G peeled off the backing and dropped it in a ceramic bowl. “A few more seconds to dry.” He held it up, by the edges. “It looks good. I don’t think we need another.” He placed the photo on the table.

Reaching into his shirt pocket he took out some keys. Kneeling down he removed Anita’s leg irons first, followed by the handcuffs and the waist chain. The combination went back into a canvas bag. “There you go. Now, let’s see about your clothes. I believe Irina had them dry cleaned. We have all the luxuries here, you know.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, rubbing her wrists. “Those things,” Anita pointed to the sack containing the shackles, “work far too well for my taste.”

He laughed, “That’s true. I’ve found not many care to wear them for an extended period of time. Come with me, I’ll get your street clothes. I hope the experience was all you expected?” Taking hold of her arm he led her over to a locker.

Darla watched from the sidelines while he opened the locker with Anita’s clothes. To Darla’s surprise Mr. G turned away from Anita while she changed. Both of them had spent much of the last week without any clothes and in full view of Mr. G. She’s on the other side of the line now, Darla told herself. Even if it was only for a few more minutes Darla was still bound, literally and figuratively, and so under Mr. G’s full control.

Mr. G struck a match and set fire to the photo negative. It flared up, from the chemicals, before disappearing in a pile of ash. “As promised, you get the only picture. You have my assurances there are no visual records of your stay here.”

She listened while the two of them talked about the prior week. They ignored her as if she was a piece of furniture. There were a few pangs of impatience but no real resentment.

Mr. G’s assistant came in from the outside door. “Irina, please show Anita to the plane.”

At the last minute Darla finally learned the mysterious woman’s name. She was out of sight most of the week, rarely appearing except to deliver food. It would be fascinating to have a long, uninhibited conversation with Irina. What went on behind those dark eyes? It was obvious to anyone she was completely dedicated to Mr. G. What was her history, how did she wind up with him? They were all questions that would remain unanswered, much to Darla’s disappointment.

The two women disappeared out the door. Finally, it was her turn. Except it wasn’t; Mr. G was disassembling the camera and tripod. What was going on? That’s when Darla noticed there wasn’t a second bag for her chains.

“You must know your stay here is at an end,” he began. “You recall I promised you would experience bondage and domination beyond anything you’ve experienced before. While I have tried to meet your expectations, I’m sure you are somewhat disappointed in the results to date.”

Darla stared back at him. The past week had been intense, but he was right. There was still something lacking. Perhaps it was the knowledge that whatever he did to her, there was always that deadline ahead, a guarantee she’d be free sooner or later. She did feel let down now that it was about to end. That didn’t change the fact she wanted out of the shackles.

“My one way street has a dead end, a fixed time limit. There’s no way around it, unfortunately. Before you leave, I do want to make some amends. I pride myself on customer service above all. With some help from your friend Sally I’ve taken some steps to fill your need.”

Need? That was an odd way to phrase it. And Sally was certainly no friend, not after that last look before they parted. Something was definitely wrong. “Sir?” She jerked against the waist chain in a futile attempt to raise her hands. “I don’t understand. Doesn’t the plane leave soon? I have to get back to Los Angeles. I don’t think I can travel like this?”

Mr. G raised a hand. “Patience, please hear me out. I could tell that dead end was on your mind. I wracked my brain, trying to find some way around it. I even asked Sally about it. By the way, she’s taken an interest in your welfare. She made some calls, and thanks to her efforts I can clear away the dead end blocking your personal one way street.”

Darla was lost. What was he talking about? And Sally taking an interest? That she found hard to believe. In any case, assistance from Sally was the last thing she wanted.

He turned toward the open door and called out, “Gentlemen, if you could join us?” She saw two large men walk through the doorway. Both were dressed in black uniforms, with polished boots and police style basket-weave leather belts around their waists. Their shoulder patches had a Department of Corrections logo. Shocked at the sudden presence of strangers she instinctively tried to back up.

“Oh, don’t worry about the time.” Mr. G dismissed her concern with a wave of his hand. “You’re not taking the plane. You’re not returning to L. A. anytime soon either. You will be leaving us, but your destination is in the other direction. It’s a place called the Center.”

What was he talking about? Her time here was at an end. She had to get home. “Sir? The week is over. I want to go back to the city, not to some other place. I have to go to work tomorrow.”

The two men took up positions on either side of Darla. They gripped her arms, holding her in place.

Mr. G shook his head. With a rueful smile he explained, “Work is the last place you have to go. Sally, she seems quite fond of you, helped us out with your disappearance. Your car will be found abandoned at a parking lot in San Ysidiro, within walking distance of the border. Cameras show someone who looks much like you, wearing your clothes, crossing into Mexico. After that the trail goes cold. When your car is searched there will be traces of drugs. You’re just another statistic, Darla.”

She struggled but hampered by the chains she didn’t get far. The two guards were both far stronger than her, and she was in no position to offer resistance. “Hold still, and don’t try that again.” She gave up; Mr. G had her neatly trapped.

“What could I do to surprise you, to deliver the unexpected, something beyond your previous experiences? No matter what I did, you knew it would be temporary. But what you would never expect is that it doesn’t come to an end. These officers,” he pointed toward the men on either side of her, “are here to transport you to another location. I’m not going to tell you where it is, but you will be confined there for quite some time. I can assure you no, umm, guest has ever left without permission.”

Darla again fought the handcuffs, trying to protest, to demand her release. The two men next to her tightened their hold, and the restraints did the rest. Tears streamed down her face. “Stop this right now! You know it’s pointless to fight back. Your protests won’t make any difference. From now on you will be told what to do. There will be no discussion, no compromise, no consensus, no bargaining. You will obey, or you will be punished. It’s that simple; live with it.”

Mr. G came close. “In the future you should take care of what you wish for. It may come true in ways you don’t anticipate. From this moment on you are ‘disappeared’. A few people may wonder what happened to you, but it will remain a mystery. None of that need concern you, for your destiny has already been determined. What happens now is inevitable, and for you beyond your power to control.”

“Please, Mr. G, don’t do this! This isn’t what I want.” Frantically she tried to think of what to say, how to plead with him to let her go. Maybe this was all a ruse, a little drama at the eleventh hour to trick her into panicking. If so it worked. She was terrified at the prospect of being kidnapped and condemned to slavery.

“No, I don’t see any point in hearing what you have to say.” Another shock went through her as her last hope was crushed. “I’m sure you think you can somehow persuade me to free you to return to your old life? Sorry, but no, that’s not going to happen.”

He nodded to the two men next to her. Mr. G reached out and put a hand on the cuffs imprisoning her wrists. “Right now you’re afraid of change. It will be difficult, but a year from now you will thank me. If you behave, work hard, perhaps it won’t take that long. If you choose not to cooperate, well, not much you can do about it, is there? The people who oversee you? They have all the time and patience in the world. You don’t have that luxury.”

Darla was in shock. She’d lost all control over her life, her future. Everything about her was now in the hands of strangers, with the authority to do whatever they pleased.

“I’ve enjoyed your stay here, and I hope you will eventually feel the same way. Until we meet again, I wish you well. Oh yeah, Sally asked that I remind you, she never forgets.” He stood to one side. “Take her away.”

Epilogue Mr. G opened Darla’s locker. Looking up he saw Irina standing in the doorway, watching over her shoulder as Darla was led away.

“Come on in,” Mr. G gestured toward the locker containing Darla’s clothes, waving his hand. “You can dispose of these. She won’t be needing them.”

“Yes, sir.” She has such a nice, soft voice, Mr. G thought. It relaxes me.

“Sir? May I ask? I saw the uniforms…”

Mr. G held out his arms. In a flash she was snuggled in his embrace, burying her head against his shoulder. “Yes, since you’re curious. She’s being taken to the Center. A certain business associate was contacted by Sally. He agreed to sponsor Darla. She doesn’t know it yet, but he will be carefully guiding her future for some time to come.”

“It will be…” Irina paused, looking for a tactful word. “Difficult, it will be difficult for her to adjust, at first.”

“She’ll manage. You did, and you’re better off for the experience.”

“Nine months, sir, I spent nine months in the Center’s Secure Area. It’s harsh, sir, daily life reduced to the essentials; perfection or punishment, with no middle ground.”

Mr. G pulled her close. “It was worth every minute, never doubt that. Eventually Darla will come to the same conclusion. Like you, she needs someone to show her the way.”

“Yes, sir, I do wish the best for her.”

“I believe we aren’t expecting any new guests until late this afternoon. It looks like we have some time to ourselves. What shall we do?”

“I look forward to finding out, sir.”

Darla leaned her head against the van’s window, resigned to watching the desert scenery roll by. They were on the dirt road, headed to a highway, and then to…where? She had no clue; she didn’t need to know. In the front one of the guards kept glancing back at her, through the security grill.

Better get used to it, she thought. Someone’s going to be checking on me constantly, from now on. One last time she jerked on the handcuffs. The problem with restraints is they don’t know when it’s time to stop working. Just that fast they went from plaything to the real thing. I’m a prisoner now, except I have no rights, no lawyer, and an indefinite sentence.

Mr. G did get it right. There was no nagging feeling of unfulfilled wish now. It was replaced by terror of the unknown that comes from a future where she had no say in what would happen to her.

Sally fastened her seat belt before glancing out the window. L. A. International, always busy with planes going in every direction. She was headed for North Dakota, to provide some consulting at a research facility there. Details on the assignment were few, which in Sally’s line of work was all too common. The plane began moving, heading for a nearby runway.

Darla should be on her way to her destination too. She had nearly spoiled the last job. Sally took pride in her results and did not tolerate interference from anyone while she was working. Darla might be safe from Sally’s grasp, but she would pay dearly for that one moment.

Psycho Sally leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, reliving that moment when she watched James’ self-esteem crumble. Darla would have her moments too, though Sally wouldn’t be there to see it. Perhaps one day their paths would cross again. However long it might be, Sally never forgets.

One Way Street · Part 4 (4/4)
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