When I tried to get her to follow me to the kitchen, via
the service stairs, Tina began to shake as if she were terrified. When I
pressed her she shrank from me, then turned and ran to the gallery were I found
her on the bed.
Tina was laying there on her side, facing away, as I came
to her and sat on the bed. She had the four ropes clasped against herself and
was shaking from within, as I quietly sat and waited for her to turn to me.
Tina was crying, that I knew, but the reason escaped me.
It wasn't like I'd told her I didn't want her any more, and I failed to see why
she was unable to leave the ropes or why she seemed so terrified of the
kitchen.
Several minutes of silence passed as she lay there
crying, while I waited for her to recover from whatever had disturbed her.
Slowly her body reduced its shaking then eventually stopped. I reached out and
touched her shoulder and she gave no resistance as I pulled her over so I could
see her face.
It was streaked with the tears of emotion and her eyes
were still crying as she lay and looked up at me. We sat there like that for a
long time as she seemed to be relaxing slowly from her disturbed state.
Finally I asked what was so wrong that would make her
seem so afraid of the kitchen, or freedom for that matter.
Again her reaction was a series of facial expressions as
the thoughts my questions brought to her mind made themselves evident on her
face. They passed, one by one, in nearly the same order as they had in the
attic. "Interesting," I thought to myself as I watched, "Tina
seems unable to control the thoughts when I ask, but she never answers."
"Why won't you answer?" I asked.
Tina took my hand and pleaded with her eyes to stop. I
didn't understand, but I stopped, for now.
I pulled Tina to her feet and silently led her to the
dining room. It was elegantly furnished, more so in fact than the women's
dining hall on the floor below but much smaller. The table would have
comfortably sat four persons, but there was only two chairs evident in the
room. In the center was a silver candle and the tablecloth was linen with lace
overlay. It hung nearly to the floor on all sides and was fringed in lace.
There were two buffets, one at each end of the room, each
contained china of various patterns and table service of several different
styles. All of the furnishings were extremely expensive and rare. Nothing at
all like the plain china and silver in constant use in the dining room one
floor down.
I noted all these differences and wondered why for a
moment, when we heard Flow enter from the service stairs. I scared the old
woman so badly she almost dropped the tray of food she was bringing to Tina and
me when I touched her shoulder from behind.
When she had steadied herself, she followed me to the
dining room where Tina was waiting.
Tina and I ate at a table together for the first time
late that afternoon, as Flow did duty as server for us. As we ate in silence I
reflected how elegantly we lived here in my tower prison far above the city
below.
"I wonder," I thought, "if any of my
captors recognized the paradox."
"Some have." The voice entered my head like
thunder. Shocked and confused I looked around the room for the speaker, but the
only persons present were Flow, who couldn't speak, and Tina, who was busily
chewing her food. Both Tina and Flow smiled at me when I looked at them, but
they seemed to be quite unaware of the voice I had heard just then.
As we walked about the apartment after dinner, Tina clung
to my arm as we passed through the rooms that were my prison domain. It felt
good to have her near me as we slowly moved about the place and looked at the
impressive array of furnishings and appointments. As we walked, we talked of
what we saw, and wondered where everything had come from. She began to loosen a
bit as time passed and told me what she knew of those items familiar to her.
As we moved and talked, it became clear she was from a section
of society that lived without many comforts, as though she were trapped in a
cast system without vertical movement. If that were true it could be why she
was so desperately trying to stay in my graces.
Whoever had created this place had not intended it to be
a prison by its appearance. But if it weren't a prison, why the second attic
full of machines of torture. I shook my thoughts from me as we returned to the
gallery.
As we walked into the gallery I was stricken for the
first time at how bare the room was in contrast to the rest of the apartment.
While I stood thinking, Tina allowed Flow to bind her
securely to the freshly made bed while I simply stood and stared at the room.
When I came back to the here and now, Flow handed me a fresh skirt and indicated
it was time for me to visit the floor below. "Like a condemned man to his
execution." I said as she handed it to me.
Tina lay bound to the bed as I changed my skirt and
checked myself in the mirror Flow had produced. She was stretched tight by the
ropes but seemed quite happy to be back in their grasp as she beamed up at me.
"Odd" I thought, "she likes the feeling of
captivity."
I reached down and cupped her breast for a moment, then
left for the floor below.
Copyright © 1992
All Rights Reserved
Chapter 21 | Chapter 23
Index | Title Page
| Credits | Preamble | TOC