Chapter 4 - Bound In The Dark

Have you ever given up so much control that you wonder if you'll ever get it back?

The question echoes in my brain as I take my place in the winding queue for morning coffee. It's been a full seven days since I left Thorn's flat. A whole week since he filmed me in a threesome and dismissed me at the finish with a curt, "We'll be in touch."

And since then?

Nothing.

No messages. No emails. Just a wall of crushing silence.

I order my usual double espresso and scowl at my abject humiliation.

How far would you like to go?

I should have said something smart and witty, words that would have made me sound more dangerous than I am. Instead, I mumbled a promise about doing whatever he wanted (serious lack of self-respect, I know). And thirty seconds later I was ushered out the door.

Talk about a come down.

So here I am. Waiting like a love-sick teen for a call that may never arrive. I resist the urge to check my phone for the eighteenth time this morning (I counted, obviously—I always count) as the barista pours the thick, holy liquid into a cup. My sensible side won't stop with the I told you so's, reminding me what a sad, pathetic slut I am for allowing myself to be used.

What if she's right? This fantasy of submission has spiralled so far out of control that I barely recognise my own face in the mirror. All I want is to feel the thrill of Thorn's voice, to yield to his command and do whatever he tells me.