Meeting of the Six Kings Ch. 04

Day Three

Catrine was roused by an indifferent butler. He had come to escort her from Arick's chambers. As she exited his apartment, the King didn't bother to look up from his morning paper.

She should have felt relieved by his sudden indifference towards her. But, for as much as she had dreaded being in the presence of King Arick, she now felt equal dread in the idea of returning to Master Ryan.

'This is all that I am,' said the voice inside her mind.

The butler bid her to wait outside the door to Ryan's suite and she responded by dropping to her knees and lowering her gaze. King Arick hadn't returned her dress, so she knelt there naked and battered, shivering with both cold and nerves.

The knocking startled Ryan awake. He kicked over the still half-full glass of whiskey that rested on the floor beside him as he rushed towards the door. When he first opened it, he only noticed the butler and stood there momentarily confused. Then, he recognized the kneeling figure beside him.

He dismissed the butler with haste. He bent to take both of Catrine's hands before pulling her quickly into his room. He closed the door, locking it securely, before pressing his back against it as if trying to keep out the rest of the world. He was so relieved to see her. He breathed deeply, calming his adrenaline fueled mind, reassuring himself that she was back safely with him.

He advanced on her quickly and wrapped himself around her, hugging her close. He felt the now familiar feel of her hair against his cheek while her unique scent filled his nose. He was so happy to hold her that he didn't register at first that she had remained still in his arms.

"Catrine?" he spoke gently. He loosened his embrace, searching for her eyes, but she couldn't meet his. Her face was pressed against his shoulder, facing away from him. Her eyes shut tight.

"Catrine?" He whispered to her again, his voice filling with concern. He pressed his lips against her hair and muttered her name softly, again and again. His emotions practically shouting, but his lips barely making any sound.

A tear slipped down her cheek as he rocked her gently in his embrace.

This is all that I am.

She felt the remnants of Arick's brutal violation seeping down the inside of her thigh. It disgusted her. Shame overpowered her as she realized what they had reduced her to. What was left after so much savagery but the ghosts of her past and an endless, empty future?

This is all that I am.

His soft words, his warm embrace, his gentle touch. Ryan was everything she wanted and everything she could never have. She yearned for kindness, protection and love. She was crushed by the agony that it could never be hers.

This is all that I am.

There was nothing for her in his breathtaking embrace but pain; A pain worse than anything that she had experienced in her two years of servitude. A pain much deeper than anything her other masters had inflicted.

This is all that I am.

Tomorrow she would return to that warehouse, to those vultures, to await a new Master and his wicked plans.

How could she survive that, having felt with him what it was like to live again?

She shuddered violently and pulled herself away from his grasp. She needed to escape the comfort of his arms. She was coming apart and couldn't bare the idea of unraveling in front of him.

Not knowing how to escape him, she quickly asked, "Master, may I please take a shower?" But, she avoided his gaze entirely.

"Oh. Yes. Of course." he answered immediately, berating himself for not suggesting it. He released his grasp on her body and she scurried away from him quickly. He stood there, alarmed by her state, as he watched her flee from him into the bedroom.

She turned on the shower and stepped under its cascade. She had hoped it would sharpen her mind, but the effect was the opposite. Intense shivers traveled through her and she felt like her knees would suddenly give way. She pressed her hands against the cool tile walls as an intense wave of nausea overtook her. Stumbling once, she fell backwards and crumpled to the wet floor, sobbing openly into the spray.

—-

He had wanted to give her some privacy. She had clearly been distressed when she returned. But she had been in the bathroom for a long time. As the minutes ticked by, his mind pricked with alarm. He warred with himself, wanting to check on her but afraid of smothering her with his own worry.

He walked into the bedroom and heard the shower still on. He knocked and slowly opened the door, calling to her. When she didn't answer, he opened it fully looking towards the glass enclosure where he expected to see her standing.

She was practically hidden there. Slumped against the wall at the far corner. She seemed so small. As he neared her, he realized that she was shivering uncontrollably. The water had long since turned cold. He turned it off and knelt at her side. She looked like she had been crying, but she made no sound now.

He reached out to touch her, but stopped short. In the bright bathroom light, he suddenly noticed how badly she had been beaten.

"Shit." The word escaped his lips before he even realized he'd said it. He was stunned.

He cringed as his finger gingerly brushed the dark purple bruise on her temple and followed its trail to the cut on her lip. He was breathless as he brushed her hair to the side revealing deep bruises along her neck and over her shoulder. He took in the marks on her breasts, the bruising on her hip. Finally, he gasped in disbelief as he lifted her arms to his gaze, revealing the razor-like red gashes left by the cuffs.

He was sure there were more, but he had seen more than enough.

He jumped up and grabbed two large towels. He did his best to wrap her up in them, pulling her from the shower and carrying her into his bed. She hardly seemed to acknowledge his presence, her eyes looking at him, but not really seeing him there with her.

He used his actions rather than words to convey his remorse. He did his best to towel dry her hair and then brushed it out gently. He slipped a pair of clean panties over her legs. Then, on impulse, he grabbed his own t-shirt, a favorite from his alma matter, rather than her nightgown, and gently pulled it over her head. It comforted him somehow that he could wrap her up in a bit of himself, rather than placing her in some other thing that was a symbol of her servitude.

Resting her against the pillows, he pulled up the covers, tucking her in securely. He pressed his lips against her forehead, wanting to say so much but not knowing where to begin. When she didn't say anything more, he sighed and turned away. He walked out of the room, quietly closing the door behind him, leaving her to rest.

The emotions Ryan felt when Arick had taken her away began as fear. By the morning, that fear had morphed into anger. Seeing Catrine this morning, that anger had turned into deep sorrow. Yet, as he locked the door of the suite and strode down the corridor towards the Kings and his third meeting day, the sorrow had disappeared, turning instead into an iron-clad determination. He was no longer going to let them make up the rules.

——

He did little to acknowledge the Kings as he pulled back his chair and sat down to begin the morning session. He looked around the room and saw all the other girls tucked quietly into their places. Some looked a little tired, but none looked as battered as Catrine had when she returned to him in the early hours of the morning. For a moment, he thought Arick was going to challenge the fact that Catrine hadn't accompanied him to the meeting. Ryan threw him a threatening glance and the King held back.

Once Dutton opened the morning's session, Ryan feverishly made his final pitch for his proposal and his company. He knew that this was the moment that he was supposed to tie it all up and walk away with his shiny, lucrative contract. Although he had practiced this part extensively, as he threw himself into it, he knew that the whole emphasis of his pitch had changed.

This was no longer about power or resource development or energy policy. Perhaps it was never really about those things. Or, perhaps it was always about something more than just those things. He was certain that this passionate speech was somehow about him; his ability to sate the Kings desires, his ability to navigate their twisted labyrinth. It was an audition here in their inner circle.

And, while he couldn't exactly connect the dots, he knew that ultimately his make-or-break pitch in the room that morning was somehow linked to his ability to hold on to Catrine. He wasn't even sure that this made sense but he seized on it with a frenzy. It drove him as he carried himself across the room, talking avidly with the Kings about the future of their realm. It animated him as he illustrated again the possibilities and long-term gains from his plan.

At least it felt like something he could control.

When there were no more questions, he returned to his seat, satisfied with his presentation. The discussion had gone a long way to rebuild his own confidence. His mind had cleared considerably since the previous afternoon.

He was ready to play the next round of games with these Kings.

—-

When there was a break in the discussion, the butler appeared by his side, leaving two envelopes discreetly on his desk. The first, he realized with dismay, were the detailed instructions to return Catrine to that warehouse. The note was so sterile, so administrative, as though he were returning a rental car at the airport. His stomach turned as he read it over.

The idea of dumping her there and taking off; the idea of returning her to a life of endless terror and humiliation. To idea of never seeing her again. He couldn't begin to consider it. He set the letter aside, refusing to dwell on the possibility.

He picked up the other envelope and carefully slid his finger along the top. He peered secretively at the contents inside, but was careful not to remove them. This package was much more promising. He breathed deeply as he folded the envelope in half and tucked its contents into the pocket of his jacket. He patted it gently as if confirming it was safely hidden away.

The meeting finally wrapped up around lunch time. Ryan had been checking emails on his tablet and awaiting an opportunity to sneak upstairs to check on Catrine. He was startled when he looked up and saw King Hall standing in front of him.

Hall was the oldest of the six Kings and had been the quietest during the meetings. There was a dignity to the way he carried himself and a sharpness to his expression as though he was making fast judgments, but giving nothing away.

"Walk with me?" He said casually.

Ryan rose and was surprised when Hall took his arm and lead him towards the exit of the meeting room. They continued all the way down the long hall, coming to a stop just in front of the residence elevators. Hall pushed the button to summon one.

Hall regarded him for a moment. Then, with a tone that took Ryan by surprise, he patted him on his shoulder and said, "Why don't you go ahead upstairs? We will finish our discussions in private session this afternoon. We'll inform you of our final decision tomorrow morning."

Then, squeezing Ryan's arm to emphasize his point he added gently, "I had one like her once..." His tone wistful and full of melancholy as his eyes swam with visions from his past.

"Go to her now. She needs you."

Ryan regarded the words of this sudden confidant. He stepped into the elevator nodding his sincerest thanks to Hall as the doors closed firmly between them.

—-

Catrine was exhausted but she could not convince herself to sleep. Tightening her arms around her body and squeezing his shirt tightly against herself, she worked furiously to steady her mind. She had been terribly shaken by her evening with Arick. She ached everywhere, the dull pain a lasting reminder of his harsh actions and harsher words.

But his treatment of her, while brutal, had not been worse or more severe than what she had received at the hands of many previous Masters. It certainly hadn't been worse than the repeated deprecation and punishments she had endured during her long months of training.

She realized with sudden clarity that it was not Arick's actions, but Ryan's actions, that had left her so exposed to Arick's cruelty. She sat up against the headboard, suddenly more alert, as she considered this fully.

When she first met Ryan, she had hoped just for a temporary reprieve from the usual torment of her every day; his casual demeanor offering her a chance to rest and perhaps blend into the background. She had planned to get by on the fundamentals of her training and not worry that more would be demanded of her. He certainly had shown her kindness and decency.

But, she realized, their interactions had been much more complex than that; much deeper than that. She was so comfortable with him, more comfortable than she had ever felt with her other Masters, even the ones who were similarly kind to her. She had felt safe in his care, safer than she should have felt surrounded by the notorious Kings of the Capital. She had let her mind rest while with him, given herself over to a tranquility and a sense of peace that she hadn't felt since her childhood.

But, she didn't feel relieved now, despite all he had tried to offer her. If anything she was more uneasy than she'd felt in months, perhaps even years.

She was drawn to him. She wanted to know him in a way that she had never experienced. She wanted to look at his eyes and touch his soft hair and curl herself up against him. She wanted to feel the gentle caress of his fingers on her skin. She wanted to know the feeling of his lips against hers.

Thinking further, her feelings went deeper still. She wanted to know what made him laugh and whether he had a family. She wanted to know why he loved engineering and what drove his passions.

As she sat there, warmed by his bed, surrounded by his smell, and wrapped in his clothes, she wanted to touch his soul. She could shut the world out forever, knowing only the sweet serenity of her connection to him.

This, she knew, was impossible. But, they had one more day together. After that, she reasoned, she would face her life sentence.

——-

Finally ready to stir from the warm cocoon of the bed, Catrine rose gingerly and made her way to the living room. She still ached in a few places, particularly the spot on her temple where Arick had struck her. But, her energy was restored by the rest and her newfound resolve to carry on.

She walked over to the bar in the corner of the living room and opened the little wooden box of tea, its aroma wafting up to greet her. She took a deep breath, finding equilibrium again as she started the kettle.

Her reverie was interrupted as a sharp pang of hunger suddenly overtook her. She remembered that it had been a long time since her last meal, at least a full day now. She contemplated her options, realizing that she had few.

Glancing around, she spotted a purple biscuit tin behind the glass front of the cabinet at the top of the bar. She knew she was taking a chance. Compelled by her empty stomach, she reasoned that Ryan would grant her permission to take a cookie. She lifted herself onto her toes and reached up high to try to open the door of the cabinet.

——

He was almost certain she'd be asleep so he took great care to open the door quietly. He stopped suddenly, as he looked across the living room and spotted her at the bar. Her back was to him and she was reaching so high with her right hand that even her right foot had lifted entirely off the ground, leaving her standing on the very tips of her left toes. She appeared to be only a few millimeters from her goal.

She was still wearing his t-shirt. The bottom of it had lifted invitingly upwards as she stretched across the cabinets, giving him a full and unrestricted view of her long and lovely legs. Her well defined calf muscle strained with exertion and her other leg lifted gently, almost like a ballerina's arabesque. He could make out the tiniest fragment of the silk of her panties across the very tops of her thighs, muted lavender clashing wildly with the bright red of his college t-shirt.

He watched, fascinated as her fingertips finally cracked open the cabinet door and a small tin clanged loudly as it fell against the countertop. He heard her release a cry of victory as she pulled at the top of the tin and stuffed a biscuit into her mouth, moaning softly as it melted on her tongue. She turned to shut off the kettle and poured herself a cup of tea.

He was sure he was smiling like the Cheshire Cat, delighting in being a witness to this private moment of indulgence. Her unguarded actions so different from her usual careful composure. He couldn't help but feel like he was spying on her; not wanting to invade her privacy, but not wanting to interrupt her either. He was also greatly relieved to see that she seemed to be feeling much better than earlier that day.

Afraid she'd turn around to find him gawking at her, he decided to make his presence known. He grabbed the door handle again and made a loud show of opening it, making sure this time to attract her attention. She swallowed her cookie quickly, guiltily wiping the crumbs from the corner of her mouth, and turned to face him.

"Do you need any help over there?" He asked her casually as he walked by. She attempted to block the tin with her body.

"No, I've got it. I was just making some tea." She said with haste. Despite her earlier confidence, her hands shook with the fear of being caught taking something without permission. The habitual fear of punishment stronger than her trust in Ryan's intentions.

Ryan casually walked to the dining area and set down his briefcase, removing his tablet and phone and placing them on the table. He wanted to give Catrine a little bit of space.

"I'm so glad to see you're awake and out of bed. I thought you'd still be sleeping when I came up." He added, an attempt at easy conversation.

When he looked over, she was stiff, still standing guard at the bar. So, he added helpfully, "I think there's a tin of cookies or something over there. Feel free to help yourself. I may eat one too, come to think of it."

Her eyes widened as she realized that he had just acquitted her of her trespass. Relieved, she picked up the tin and carried it to the table, setting it gently in front of him. He turned to look at her as she stood beside him before reaching into the box and offering her a biscuit. She took it from his hands, glancing up to meet his eyes. Their sudden proximity making her nervous.

"Can I get you anything else, Master?" She asked him quietly.

He reached up and pressed one finger softly against the cleft of her top lip. His tone matching hers, he said, "None of that formality here, okay?"

She nodded her head once in understanding. She felt like she could hardly breathe as his finger traced the outline of her lips. His soft touch reminding her of the profound difference between him and all the others. The powerful current returning and passing between them as she looked him in the eyes.

He brushed her hair away from her cheek, revealing the purple bruise beside her eye. He stroked the edges of it softly. It made her suddenly self-conscious and she broke their stare.

"Does this hurt a lot?" Concern evident in his voice as he continued the gentle touch.

"I've had worse." She said faintly, still looking towards her feet. She squirmed a bit under the intensity of his examination, clearly uncomfortable with the subject.

He frowned and released her cheek. He ran his hands over her shoulders and down her arms. Then, he grasped her hands in his, raising them slightly and assessing her fully.