Part 5: “The Disappearance of Emily Bennett”

Part 4

The large room was a brilliant white. The walls, the furniture, the bedspread. Everything pure as the driven snow.

Except me.

As much as I’d wanted to leave everything behind, there was no leaving what was inside of me. All the memories and experiences and insecurites and worries. All those things were right under my skin waiting to erupt and fuck this whole thing up.

But, he’d promised he could make those things matter less. Maybe even not matter at all. He promised to help me forget. Said he was a master at what he called “disappearance.” That he could make the person I was give way like a seed to the person I could become.

It was an enticing offer.

And while I could look around at all of this opulance, and even look forward to the experiences he could give me, I wasn’t so sure any of it could make my bad decisions stop mattering or my mistakes seem like opportunities.

I was willing to try, though. Nothing else had worked, and with two months of saved up vacation, I’d decided this was just as useful a “getaway” as heading to the Bahamas and reading on the beach, drinking fruity concoctions with umbrellas. It was at least unique and new. Not your standard B and B.

No phone. No way to contact family or friends. No outside influence. The only things I’d have would be the things he let me have. The only things I’d do would be the things he let me do. I was completely at his mercy. For two fucking months. BDSM bootcamp.

I glanced around my room, and all I could think was “pure.” How was I not going to fuck this up?

I didn’t need to dress for dinner, but the young women had drawn me a bath that smelled of jasmine and lavender. It seemed an odd combination, both sensual and calming at the same time. I stepped into the hot water and let myself sink under, holding my breath, my ears and eyes shutting out the world. I stayed under as long as I could, and then rose slowly up, letting just my head pop out of the water, laying back and closing my eyes.

I’d arrived at five o’clock, and I had until eight to relax before dinner.

On a small table beside the bath, a glass of wine sat, and beside it…a stack of books. It all seemed so decadent to me, the soft light, the wine, the warm water, and the time to myself. Nothing I would give myself at home.

I took the moment to collect my being. The places he had touched. My cheek, neck, behind, cunt. All of it pulsed slowly beneath the skin, as if electricity had been injected by his touch. Sensations I’d not felt in too long.

Reaching out, water dripping onto the tile, I took the glass of wine, tasting the fruit and spice as if it were the first time.

Part 6

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