Monday morning at work, Valerie glowed with the happy serenity of one well satisfied. Her well-being spilled over for the next few days, but soon, little things began to irritate her and she was restless and agitated once again.
For one thing, Hank Stone was a constant annoyance. He was always cold, always aloof, although she could see that he had warmed up a little to another woman in the office. It bothered her even more because the woman, Julie, was not especially pretty. Thin and dark, she had a rather pallid race and no tits to speak of. Valerie was furious, especially when she overheard Hank telling some other man in the office how he thought Julie was very smart and was urging her to apply to law school.
One night, Valerie arranged things so that she and Hank would have to work late. She also arranged it so that they would be alone at the office. She had every intention of getting some kind of reaction from this guy.
After everyone had left, she called him to her desk and she waited until he had gotten a chair. As they talked, he kept get whiffs of his intoxicating, male odor. It was driving her nuts.
She went over to a filing cabinet to get something and when she sat down again, she crossed her legs so that her skirt rode up and her legs were revealed. He didn't even look once, the bastard!
Next, she tried leaning over, so that her boobs swung before him, showing off the ample cleavage. He didn't bat an eyelash. Valerie was so angry she could spit. She remained bent over like that for a long moment, waiting for him to look up. He seemed, to know what she was doing and refused to give in. His eyes never once so much as glanced at her proffered breasts.
Finally, she sat down again. She was fuming. They kept working for while and then she got up again.
She didn't quite know why she rose, but she was restless and needed to move about for a minute. She crossed the room and looked out at the busy street in the growing dusk. From here, New York was safe, a glittering array of lights and stars. She turned back to Hank. His eyes were still on the work in front of him.
Walking back to the desk, she very carefully and deliberately came and stood beside him. She let her thigh rest up against the hard square of his shoulder for a few seconds, sure that he could smell the aroma from her pussy, which was dangerously near his face.
Not looking at her, he moved his shoulder away and continued to write. In a rage, she snatched the pen from his hand and grabbed the thick, strong wrist. "What's wrong with you? Why are you teasing me, you bastard? Why won't you look at me? Look at me! I said, LOOK AT ME!!!" she screamed.
"Why Miss Jones! You're raising your voice!" he said, calm and mocking.
"You're damn right! I'm sick of you! So aloof, so snotty! Who do you think you are?"
"And I could ask the very same of you, you narcissistic bitch! You think that because you show me your tits or your legs that I'm supposed to come running like a dog with its tail wagging! Yeah, don't think that I don't see you, you brazen little Jezebel, you! I've watched you strut and preen! Well, that wimp Eldridge might take that shit, but not me! I won't put up with that nonsense from anyone and certainly not from a little empty headed ninny like you! You're so stupid that I'll bet you can barely read! You work here because of your tits and ass bitch and when they go, so will you!"
Valerie was so stunned she could hardly speak. When she did, it was no more than a whisper.
"Why do you hate me so much?" she said, her lips trembling.
"I don't! I've simply told you what I think, which is something I should have done ages ago and you would have stopped pawing me. Now look, let's get to work, or I'm going home!"
Valerie struggled to control the tears. She had never been so humiliated in her whole life, not ever! She knew that she could tell Blair he had insulted her and get the bastard fired, but somehow, even that would not erase her stinging shame. No, it had to be something else.
Sitting down again and wiping her eyes hastily, she said, "Well, Mr. Stone, thank you for your candid opinion of me and my qualifications. Now, I think we should finish this project…"
After they were through, he bade her a curt good-night and quickly left. Alone at last, she indulged in the luxury of hot, scalding tears that rained down over her pretty face. No one had ever said such things to her, no one! She cried and cried, burying her head in her arms and feeling the shame wash over her again and again.
When she had calmed down enough to go out into the street, she stopped by a phone booth. Knowing that she was a fool, she looked up "Hank Stone" in the telephone book that was underneath the telephone.
She dialed the number and listened to the melancholy ring, five, six, seven times. She guessed that he wasn't in and was about to hang up when she heard the small, "Hello?" from the other end of the wire.
"Hank? It's Valerie. Valerie Jones."
"I was expecting you to call."
"You were?"
"Yes. After you finished crying, you call. Your kind always do."
"How did you know that I was crying?"
"I just knew."
"Hank, I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"Oh… I don't know… couldn't we make it up somehow?"
"How?"
"We could have a drink together maybe. I'd buy it."
"When?"
"Now?"
"What about Eldridge?"
"What about him?"
"Aren't you seeing him tonight?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I'd rather see you."
"Come on, the whole thing."
"I want to see you more than I want to see Blair."
"More than anyone?" he prompted.
"I want to see you more than anyone."
"That's good. Come over."
"Now?"
"Where do you live?"
"Look it up, cunt and hurry!" he said and hung up.
She did as he told her and hailed a taxi up to the East Eightieth Street address that she found. She rang the bell and waited. No answer. Could the bastard have gone out? She rang again. Still no answer. She grew upset and furious. Why had he done this? He invited her over and ten minutes later, he's out the door. She rang a third time. This time, he buzzed back. Relief flooded over her and she raced up the steps, not bothering with the elevator.
He was waiting at the door and let her in without a word. He had changed from his work clothes and was wearing a pair of very tight black jeans. No shirt covered his hairy chest and she was free to drink in the power of his massive arms and torso.
He still said nothing and sat on the couch. Somehow, she was afraid to sit down without permission. She said in a quaking voice, "May I sit down?"
"Not yet."
"Oh," she said and fell silent.
"First, you must fix me a drink. Then perhaps I will let you sit down."
"What sort of drink would you like?"
"A gin and tonic."
"Gin and tonic," she repeated and went over to the small bar in the corner.
"That's good," he said as she handed it to him.
"May I sit down now?"
"First, take off my shoes." Valerie bent down and did his bidding.
"Is that better?"
"Well, my feet are still hot. Lick them."
Valerie knelt on the floor next to the huge man and drew one of his feet up to her mouth. He kicked her sharply in the head. "Who said that you could do that? Get down on the floor and lick!"
Valerie out his foot down and pressed herself into the floor. Her tongue, moist and pink, slithered out of her mouth and began to lick his thick toes. She drove her tongue between them, sometimes taking the whole toe into her mouth and caressing it with her tongue. He moved his feet slightly so she could reach the soles, but only enough so she could barely get her face between them and the floor. Face pressed down, his foot virtually squashing her, she continued to lick.
He kicked her away sharply, saying, "Enough."
He stood up and said gruffly, "Strip, whore!"
Valerie stood too and her shaking hands peeled off her clothing. Her dress first and then her slip. Soon she was, in her panties and bra.
"More," he commanded. A single word was enough. She tossed off the flimsy under garments and stood there looking at him. He did not seem to be at all aroused by her body. Her milky flesh and long hair did nothing to make his cock rise. She was utterly shamed. Never had she stood naked before anyone who had not responded to her sheer physical beauty.
He turned and walked out of the room. She didn't know what to do, so she stood there, her ravishing body alternating between chills and hot flashes.
Time passed and he stayed away. What could he be doing? She craned her head in the direction of the other room. She was able to see him, barely. He was seated on the bed, reading something, a newspaper. A newspaper! Here she was, naked and waiting and that man read a newspaper! If she hadn't been so afraid of him, she would have laughed out loud.
She turned way and looked out the window. Her arms crossed around her body, she watched the dark sky. She didn't even hear him come in and she whirled around in shocked surprise as he grabbed her by the hair.
As he dragged her along the floor, she was able to see that he had changed once again. A fierce black leather mask covered his entire face and was naked save for a black leather jock strap and heavy black leather boots. The mask had holes for his eyes, nose, ears and mouth, but the overall effect was eerie, like an executioner. She shivered as she looked at him.
He pulled her over to a metal chinning bar that hung suspended from the door way of the kitchen. In a moment of terror, she tried to bolt, but the attempt was useless. He smacked her across the face with such a hard blow that she thought her nose might be broken. The blood trickled from it, but she dared not wipe it away.
He bound her wrists together with a length of long, black leather cord that cut into her skin. Then, with the same violent economy of gesture, he pulled her arms up above her head and fastened them to the metal chinning bar.
It was too high for her and the muscles in her arms were painfully pulled and stretched as the bound her tightly to the rod.
He walked into the living room and fetched his dirty socks. Before she could utter a cry, he stuffed them into her mouth, all the down her throat so that she feared she might throw up from the smell. He did not cover her eyes, but he put a tight cloth around her mouth so that she would be unable to spit out the filthy socks.
He went into his bedroom and again, remained there for a while. She was hanging cruelly, her limbs wracked and aching with pain, her mind fearful and tormented by wondering about what he would do next.
He returned with a pair of tight, black boots with pointed toes. He shoved her feet into them. Even though they were sizes too small, he forced her delicate feet into the loather prison. He bent down again, to get something else he had left on the floor and she nearly passed out when she saw the whip.
It was huge and fearful looking, with a long, serpentine end from which dangled a spiked metal ball. Her eyes closed for a moment, feeling faint from the awful stench of the socks and the certain knowledge of the pain she was about to experience.
She did not have to wait long. The first blow landed across the front of her body, branding it with a huge, scarlet gash. The sharp metal dug into her skin and gouged out an angry wound in her soft inner thigh.
Tears sprang to her eyes as he continued to beat her, slowly at first, taking his time. He hit her as an artist, waiting to see the furious gashes appear and then deciding where to place the next one. Her breasts and thighs and stomach were soaked with her blood and the cruel whip kept up relentlessly, ignoring her streaming eyes and vain strugglings.
Had she not been crying so hard, she might have seen that now, only now, did Hank's tool begin to rise. If she could have seen it, her eyes might have popped out of her head when she saw the throbbing tool slowly harden and rise to its full ten inches. He stripped off his jock strap and fondled his magnificent meat as he whipped her.
He moved back, to whip the soft tender pits of her arms and she twisted and turned, trying to get away.
Then, as if tired of the bloody mess in front, he moved around in back of her and commenced whipping her tender buttocks and, narrow spine. Crack! Crack! Crack! The only sound in the room was the furious sound of the whip, beating out its endless tattoo on her poor, broken flesh.
His cock grew and grew, the purple head flaring out, as he continued to beat her. With a sudden gesture, he hurled to whip to the floor and pushed past her shaking wet body to go into the kitchen.
Her eyes were so dazed with pain that she could barely see, but she was able to make out what he war returning with now. Vinegar! Oh no, God no! But his twinkling, bitter eyes told her it was true. He poured it out onto a cloth and moved towards her body. She cried out, even though she was gagged, as the first touch of the burning stuff was placed upon her torn and mangled body.
Her body writhed furiously, shaking as if she were experiencing a fit, as he lovingly anointed her wounds with the liquid. It burned and stung, piercing every nerve, every cell of her being. Her body felt as if it were on fire and the tears poured faster and faster down her face. She was covered with it now, a stinging bloody mass that was no longer human, it was so consumed by pain.
It was merciful that she didn't know that this was only the beginning. As her writhing subsided, Hank put down the vinegar and walked out again. She heard him turn on the television and wondered how long he was going to leave her here, hung from the metal pole.
She heard the start of a movie and the slow minutes ticked by as the movie droned on and on.
Her eyes grew dim from the pain and the sound of the television began to be a meaningless blur in her ears. After a while, she was aware that the sound had changed and that Hank was now watching the news. That meant she must have been here for at least two hours. Her skin was still smarting painfully, as if it were dried leather that were about to peel right off of her tortured frame.
The minutes went by, agonizing in their slowness. Her arms and back were being rearranged. She was sure that she would never move with the same ease or grace again. Her body was painfully being altered to some new shape, to suit some new purpose. Although she didn't know it yet, so was her mind.
The television continued, but Valerie was no longer able to make out the distinct sounds. She had passed on to a quiet, almost serene state, where the pain did not subside, but where she grew accustomed to it.
In the midst of her semi-trance, Hank returned, in all his full, menacing glory. His lip curled slightly as he looked at her. She was so fearful when she saw him that she didn't notice that he had a large, spiked dildo in his hands and something else draped across his arms.
Moving silently towards her, he waved the dildo in front of her face with evil glee. Had she not been gagged with the socks, he might have forced it down her throat and made her give head to the plastic dick. Instead, he would have to choose between her other available orifices.
The dildo was made out a very rigid, hard plastic, so that where ever he chooses to put it, it was bound to cause her great torment. He placed it between the lips of her cunt and then moved it around to her asshole. He kept switching it back and forth between the two holes, so that she would never know which one he would finally choose.
The large pink rod looked good as it was about to slip into her pussy, but Hank realized with some annoyance that the view was partially blocked by the fine halo of pubic fuzz that surrounded her cunt lips. 'Well, it will just have to come off!' he thought. He put the dildo down for a moment and went into the bathroom. Valerie grew nervous again, not knowing what to expect from him.
He came back with a razor and she felt everything grow black before her eyes. She really believed that he meant to do her some serious harm. She hadn't seen the can, of shaving cream that was in his other hand. If she had, she might have realized that humiliation and not murder, was his intention.
He grabbed her legs with one of his enormous hands and told her to keep still. Opening the can of foam, he squirted it out into a large cloud on his free hand and started to apply it to her cunt.
Valerie struggled against him, but a stunning blow to her cheek made her grow quiet. Lifting the razor blade up to her terrified eyes, he said, "Look bitch, you just better behave! If you cause me any trouble, I'll use this to slice off those nipples of yours, so watch it!" Valerie believed that he would keep his promise and she kept very, very still.
His hand moved back to her crotch, as he carefully applied the white foam. She winced at the first touch of the metal, more out of shame that out of actual pain. He was a neat and expert barber and within minutes, he had shaved her pussy clean.
He moved past her into the kitchen to get a damp cloth. Valerie realized with horror that he had wet the rag with vinegar. It stung bitterly as he applied it to her shorn crotch. Looking down, she could see how truly naked and vulnerable she looked without the protective covering of golden fur. The bare mound looked pitiful in the bright light and she turned her, head away so that she wouldn't have to look at it any longer.
Hank was pleased with his work. It was all a part of his plan to humiliate her totally, to bend her to his will. He reached up and caresses a lock of her shimmery blonde hair.
Valerie eyed him nervously. She knew better that to trust the tenderness she felt in that touch. Her fears were realistic, for in the next moment, she saw him take a large pair of scissors and playfully snip a few strands of her hair.
Once again, the stream of tears poured unchecked from her eyes, but she didn't even, try to struggle. He clipped off the long hair of which she had always been so proud, humming a little tune as he did it.
After he had clipped her tresses to a short and rather unruly mess, he returned the scissors to the table. She was worried that he might decide to shave her head entirely, but apparently, he was not going to do it now.
Hank was quite excited by this time. He had not yet come and the sight of the beautiful woman's naked distress was making him very hot.
He decided that he would fuck her cunt. He drew a tall stool from the kitchen and placed it next to her. He sat on it, so that his raging cock was exactly at the level of her pussy. Taking the dildo from the floor where he had put it, he aimed it at her ass crack.
First, he slipped underneath her and drew her body down to meet his. The huge ten inch member was so big that he could barely get it into her lips. Secretly, he was delighted, for he knew that it would hurt her more. Pushing her legs apart as far as they would go, he bore down on her lower back with his other hand and shoved his dick deep inside of her.
The flaming rod almost cut her in two, but. Valerie almost welcomed the sensation. At least he wasn't beating her for the moment and she had to admit that she had never felt a dick that big and fat in all her life.
As he was cramming that amazing tool into her pussy, he put the inflexible dildo near her ass and started to shove it in.
It was extraordinarily painful and Valerie felt pain shoot through her like a searing knife. After he had rammed the brutal thing into her, he left it there and continued to fuck her pussy from the front.
He was able to reach up and bite her nipples, which Valerie secretly loved and she grew, hot despite the awful pain. He sensed that she was aroused and he picked up something from the floor.
She couldn't make out what the strange contraption was, it had nasty looking little screws and clamps. Using only one hand, he was able to slit one of the things onto her left nipple and then he fitted one onto the right nipple. The little clamps squeezed the delicate flesh of her nipples, twisting both of her breasts into an odd, unnatural shape. She feared they might burst from the terrible pressure. The pain was terrible, for her nipples were so sensitive. It felt as if a snake had sunk its vicious fangs into her innocent tits and would not let go.
He kept fucking her, harder and harder, so that she felt that her inner walls her aching and bruised. His movements were wild and erratic and conformed to no recognizable pattern.
He fucked her shaved cunt like a wild man, uttering deep, low growls and as he came, he sunk his teeth into her belly, wanting to taste the salty blood.
He moved away from her slowly, but left the cruel dildo lodged up her ass. Stripping off the black leather garments, he turned to her airily and said, "Good night, Miss Jones. I hope that you will be very comfortable tonight. I'll see you in the morning!" With those words, he turned and walked out of the room. She could hear the sounds of the sink and she realized that he was preparing for bed. Her mind revolted against the knowledge that he meant to leave her here, hanging like a carcass, all night long. Bitter, hot tears scalded her face, worse and more galling than vinegar.
She listened for a few more minutes as Hank put on the radio and got into bed. Then, he shut the lights and very soon, she heard the gentle sound of his snores.
Her mind was so dazed by the pain she had been forced to endure that she was unable to concentrate on any one thing for too long. After a while, she realized that she had to urinate, but that she couldn't get down. Her bladder grew swollen and she wondered if it might burst inside of her. Tears trickled slowly from her eyes as she tried to think of something else to take her mind off of the intense pain caused by needed to urinate.
Finally, she could bear it no longer and she let herself urinate all over her legs and the floor below. She was so ashamed of herself! There was a wet, sticky mess all over her legs and a huge puddle on the floor. The smell was quite unbearable to her and she feared she might throw up from it.
It seemed to fill the whole kitchen and was so vile, that it counterbalanced any relief she might have felt in emptying her bladder.
The night was an eternity. Her arms and back were beyond pain. Her wounds were still painful and sore. Some of them had begun to heal, but others were still angry, bloody gashes. Her tits aches inside of the cruel vise and her head reeled form the lack of sleep and the awful stench she was forced to endure.
Valerie drifted in and out of consciousness. Her mind spun, crazily at times, sluggishly at others. She began to hallucinate. She was sure that there were rats in the room, who would come to gnaw on her live flesh. Or else she was certain that there were birds in the room, vultures or bats who would peck her eyes out.
Gradually, it grew light and soon, the morning sun streamed in from the kitchen window behind her. Her eyes closed for a brief spell and flew open when she heard Hank come into the room.
His eyes were filled with sleep and his naked body looked much less menacing than it had the night before. He said nothing, but looked at the urine that was all over Valerie's body and the floor below her. He glared at her, but said nothing.
She cringed as he came near her, but he only removed the awful dildo from her ass. Then, to her amazement, he unbound her arms from their cruel shackles. She was too weak and dazed to move and collapsed in heap on the floor, oblivious to the urine that was still there.
"You can remove the gag from your mouth if you want. And the nipple clamps," he said calmly.
Valerie said nothing. She simply sat there, as if in a coma. Finally, he came behind her and helped her off with the gag and the clamps. Still, she did not move. Her will had been broken somewhere in the night and she lost the power to do anything, for herself. Hank looked at her and said, "Would you like to bathe?"
"Only if you'll help me, Master," Valerie whispered. Hank grinned; it had worked. She had used that name this morning with no prompting from him. It was only the first lesson, but he could see that it had worked very well, very well indeed.
He lifted her in his strong arms and brought her into the bathroom. Setting her gingerly on the toilet seat, he opened the tap. Filling the tub with hot, steaming water, he led her to it and helped her get in. He was as gentle and solicitous as a father with her, rubbing her back and soaping her cropped hair. He muttered words of endearment and then she began to cry again, hot, cleansing tears.
She didn't really know what was happening to her any more. Here she was, raped, beaten, abused, humiliated by this awful man for the space of a never ending night. Then, instead of bolting from the apartment as soon as he let her go, she stayed and let him bathe her. It was so peculiar! She felt as if she had no will besides his, no power save that which he gave her. She could only sit helplessly in this hot tub, crying bitterly and waiting for him to comfort her.
Hank said nothing, but continued to wash her carefully. When she was done, he helped her out of the tub and dried her off. He wrapped his thick, plaid bathrobe around her bruised body and toweled off what was left of her hair.
"Would you like some breakfast?" he asked.
"Yes, Master."
"What would you like?"
"Anything you make."
"Some eggs?"
"Fine."
"Toast?"
"Yes, Master."
"Coffee?"
"Anything you are eating, I will eat."
Hank moved about the kitchen on quiet cat feet. He had slipped into a pair of jeans and a tee shirt. Valerie was amazed at the transformation. Last night, he seemed like the cruelest of jailers, a menacing madman, prepared to cut her throat. This morning, he was a lamb, caring tenderly for the very wounds that he had inflicted. She couldn't figure it out.
He finished the breakfast and placed it before her.
"Eat!" he commanded gently.
"Why not?"
"Help me!"
"What?"
"You must help me, Master!"
"All right," he said and began to bring forkfuls of food to her waiting mouth. He had to tell her when to chew and when to swallow, or the food would sit untouched in her mouth. All the while, her eyes held his in a rapt gaze.
It was Saturday and neither one of them had to work. Hank had planned to tidy up his apartment. He turned to Valerie and said, "You can go home now if you want to."
"I don't!"
"What do you want then?"
"To stay here with you, Master."
"I see. And do what?"
"It doesn't matter."
"If I let you stay, you must obey my every wish, my every command. Do you understand me?"
"Oh, yes, Master!"
"Otherwise, I will be forced to send you away!"
"No!"
"All right then. You gave me your word," he said, going towards the bathroom. "I need to clean up today," he continued.
"I can help!"
"Will you clean the bathroom?"
"Oh yes!"
"Fine, but wait here for a moment." He returned with a pair of handcuffs. Gently, he slipped one wrist into it and snapped it shut. He led her into the bathroom and fastened the other metal cuff to a pipe beneath the sink. The room was small enough so that she could maneuver around without too much difficulty.
"The cleaning things are in that cabinet. Do what you can, but try hard to please me!"
"Yes, Master!" she sang out as he went into the other room.
Valerie tidied up as best she could with her one free arm. She was able to get down on her hands and knees and scrub the floor. She could also reach the tub, the toilet and the bottom of the sink, with all its pipes. Things that were high up, however, were impossible and she fretted because she couldn't finish the job.
They spent the week-end together, in much the same fashion. Hank would order Valerie around and she would obey. He would also be forced to do things for her, or she simply wouldn't do them herself. She had been so upset about not being able to finish the bathroom that she had begged him to tie her up and whip her. He hadn't wanted to, but realized finally that it was the only way to quiet her. As he beat her, he began to grow hard and hot and had ended up fucking her as she crouched, bound and gagged, on the kitchen floor.
By Sunday night, however, she showed no signs of wanting to leave and he grew worried. Hank had done this routine often with women and the results were always pretty much the same. The most stuck-up, arrogant bitchy women would always yield in the end. He would tie them up and abuse them and then leave them for a while. Their spirits were always broken in a night or two at most. After that, they seemed to adore him and be ready to do whatever he told them. Usually, however, this meant that he and the woman would have an affair for a while and she would be willing to submit to him sexually for the duration of their time together.
Valerie was slightly different though. She only wanted sex when it was coupled with abuse and she seemed to want to stay with him night and day. He mentioned work to her, in an effort to make her come to her senses.
"Val, you know that tomorrow is Monday and you have to be at the office. Maybe you should go home and change your clothes."
"I don't want to go to work."
"But Val, you have to."
"Why can't I stay here and be with you?"
"Well, I have to go to work."
"I can stay at home and clean up for you."
"Valerie, what about Blair?"
"Blair?"
"Yes, Blair!"
"Well, what about him?"
"Valerie, he's your boss!"
"So I'll quit."
"He's your lover!"
"Not anymore!"
"Valerie!"
Hank became quite exasperated. He liked Valerie's body and she was without a doubt a great lay, but he didn't want to be playing out a fantasy with her for the rest of her life. He paced up and down his apartment, wondering what in the world he was going to do with her.
Finally, he got her into her clothes and decided to take her home in a taxi. He knew that if he put her in one by herself, she would say nothing. No, he would have to take her home and then leave her there. Maybe the more familiar environment would clear her foggy head. Something had snapped in her that night when he tied her up and he sought desperately to undo the damage he had done. "Val come on. We're going out," said. She didn't ask where, but followed him obediently to the door. On the corner of 79th Street, he hailed a cab. Giving the driver the address, they climbed in.
He took her upstairs and opened the door. Switching on the light, he sat down. She made no move to offer him anything, or to sit herself. She behaved as if she had never seen this place before in her life. He sat in a chair awkwardly and then got up. He paced around and finally said, "Look Val, I have to go now."
"Fine, we'll go."
"No, no, you don't understand. You are staying here. I am going home, to my place."
"No!"
"Yes, Val. You have to stay here now. This is your home. Tomorrow, you are going to get up and go to work. Is that clear?"
"No! You can't leave me!"
"I can and I will!"
"Master!" she wailed and her voice broke.
"Val…" he soothed.
"Don't leave me! Don't leave me!"
"Val, I'll run your bath water."
"Don't leave! Don't!!" she said, completely hysterical by now.
"Valerie, sh, don't cry!"
"If you leave me, I'll kill myself! I will! I WILL!" and her sobs rang out, piercing the night.
Hank was very upset. He felt that he couldn't leave her, not after what he had done to her. At the same time, he grew worried. Maybe he could stay here with her tonight, but he couldn't live here with her forever.
Valerie sat on the floor sobbing, her face pressed into the rug. He tried to help her rise, but she wouldn't budge.
"Come on, get up off the floor," he coaxed.
"Promise me you won't leave me! Promise me that! I'll do anything for you, anything!"
"I won't leave you, Val. I promise I won't leave you."
She covered his feet with kisses and let herself be lifted off the floor. He rummaged around the cabinet for a while and found a bottle of Scotch. He decided that they both could use one, so he poured two drinks. Then, he helped her bathe and he put her to bed. She had just about stopped crying by that time and her eyes were huge and swollen.
He stayed by her bed until he heard the sound of her regular, steady, breathing, which assured him that she was asleep. He got up and went into the kitchen. As he listened to the slow, measured breathes that she took, Hank stared intently out of the kitchen window, oblivious to the seething city below him, lost deep in his own thoughts.