When she got back into her car, programmed her GPS, and started the long drive.
"You have arrived at your destination," the GPS unit informed her politely. Through the twilight haze, Clara stared through her windshield. As much a she didn't like to admit it, Clara couldn't help but be impressed. Spread before her, there was a large farmhouse, though really it seemed more like a mansion. While the surrounding environs were more like wild rivers and woods, the grounds were well kept. To one side, there was a field of bright green grass. To the other, there were crops like corn and wheat.
"What have I gotten myself into?" Clara asked no one in particular.
Opening her car door, Clara wondered how she was supposed to approach this situation. She didn't have his number and couldn't call. Part of her wanted to simply flee even as she realized that wasn't the possibility. Where would she go? What would she do?
Before she could lose her nerve, the main doors opened and Eric strode outside. In his dark pants, dress shirt, and tie, he looked like a lord of corporate finance, someone used to wielding total authority. When his gaze fell on her, Clara couldn't help but feel nervous. This was a new side to him, one she couldn't entirely explain.
Rather than approach her car, he motioned for Clara to come to him. Reminding herself how little leverage she had, she took several steps.
"You're late," he told her. His eyes darkened, "I don't tolerate tardiness from my chattel. If you fail to follow my orders or if you decide that you can't handle this, you are free to leave at any time. However my previous statement stands and I will go to the police. Tell me understand.”
Clara licked her lower lip. Her throat and mouth suddenly felt very dry, and she managed to nod and say, "I understand."
"Follow me," he commanded. Without pause, Eric headed back inside. Clara scampered after him.
For the next few minutes he showed her around his house. Clara couldn't quite believe it. How could you have a place like this? Assuming it had to have been an inheritance or something along those lines, she tried not to resent him for the obvious wealth and power he had at his disposal. Each room had been adorned with fine art. Sometimes those pieces were small statues of marble or obsidian. At other times, there were paintings of far-off places. Clara couldn't help but feel as though she were in some high-end museum or extraordinarily posh business.
The rooms flashed by in a dizzying haze. It was hard to concentrate, especially because she still didn't quite know what he wanted her for. As he explained some of the history of the house and a few select items, Clara didn't dare interrupt. So instead she followed him around like some obedient schoolgirl.
"This is where you'll be spending most of your time," he finally informed her. Eric and Clara stood outside a single door. Unadorned, it looks like it might lead to a linen closet or something else equally innocuous.
He paused, giving her the chance to finally ask. In spite of her nervousness, Clara Forrester voice to work, "Eric, what am I doing here? What do you want from me exactly?"
For a moment, expression did not change. He watched her, appraising Clara. She couldn't help but feel like an animal on display, one which was about to be put up for auction. Pushing back that absurd notion, she did her absolute best to hold her ground. Even then, she blinked and glanced down, unable to match the ferocity and power of the man standing before her.
"Clara, you did something very wrong. Now I get to do something very wrong as well." When he came closer, so post this could feel his breath on her cheek, she felt that same tightness deep down her core. This wasn't the same man she worked with. He was different. He was allowing her to see an entirely different side of himself, perhaps a truer side. "I'm going to make you into my possession. I'm going to make you please me. I'm going to reshape you into
"You have arrived at your destination," the GPS unit informed her politely. Through the twilight haze, Clara stared through her windshield. As much a she didn't like to admit it, Clara couldn't help but be impressed. Spread before her, there was a large farmhouse, though really it seemed more like a mansion. While the surrounding environs were more like wild rivers and woods, the grounds were well kept. To one side, there was a field of bright green grass. To the other, there were crops like corn and wheat.
"What have I gotten myself into?" Clara asked no one in particular.
Opening her car door, Clara wondered how she was supposed to approach this situation. She didn't have his number and couldn't call. Part of her wanted to simply flee even as she realized that wasn't the possibility. Where would she go? What would she do?
Before she could lose her nerve, the main doors opened and Eric strode outside. In his dark pants, dress shirt, and tie, he looked like a lord of corporate finance, someone used to wielding total authority. When his gaze fell on her, Clara couldn't help but feel nervous. This was a new side to him, one she couldn't entirely explain.
Rather than approach her car, he motioned for Clara to come to him. Reminding herself how little leverage she had, she took several steps.
"You're late," he told her. His eyes darkened, "I don't tolerate tardiness from my chattel. If you fail to follow my orders or if you decide that you can't handle this, you are free to leave at any time. However my previous statement stands and I will go to the police. Tell me understand.”
Clara licked her lower lip. Her throat and mouth suddenly felt very dry, and she managed to nod and say, "I understand."
"Follow me," he commanded. Without pause, Eric headed back inside. Clara scampered after him.
For the next few minutes he showed her around his house. Clara couldn't quite believe it. How could you have a place like this? Assuming it had to have been an inheritance or something along those lines, she tried not to resent him for the obvious wealth and power he had at his disposal. Each room had been adorned with fine art. Sometimes those pieces were small statues of marble or obsidian. At other times, there were paintings of far-off places. Clara couldn't help but feel as though she were in some high-end museum or extraordinarily posh business.
The rooms flashed by in a dizzying haze. It was hard to concentrate, especially because she still didn't quite know what he wanted her for. As he explained some of the history of the house and a few select items, Clara didn't dare interrupt. So instead she followed him around like some obedient schoolgirl.
"This is where you'll be spending most of your time," he finally informed her. Eric and Clara stood outside a single door. Unadorned, it looks like it might lead to a linen closet or something else equally innocuous.
He paused, giving her the chance to finally ask. In spite of her nervousness, Clara Forrester voice to work, "Eric, what am I doing here? What do you want from me exactly?"
For a moment, expression did not change. He watched her, appraising Clara. She couldn't help but feel like an animal on display, one which was about to be put up for auction. Pushing back that absurd notion, she did her absolute best to hold her ground. Even then, she blinked and glanced down, unable to match the ferocity and power of the man standing before her.
"Clara, you did something very wrong. Now I get to do something very wrong as well." When he came closer, so post this could feel his breath on her cheek, she felt that same tightness deep down her core. This wasn't the same man she worked with. He was different. He was allowing her to see an entirely different side of himself, perhaps a truer side. "I'm going to make you into my possession. I'm going to make you please me. I'm going to reshape you into