NERTHUS
“Do you want to tell me now, what the other thing is that she told you about me?” I’m lying on Arawns chest as I’m playing with his hand. “On top of me being a lesbian, I mean.”
“You had that swirling in your beautiful head all the time, did you?” he asks me, making me giggle.
“Yes. I’m way too noisy to be able to focus on something while I wait to be told something.” I say while linking my finger into his.
Kissing my head, he chuckles into my hair. “Didn’t bother me as you still focused on my cock pretty well.”
“You are such a pervert.” I laugh, shaking my head.
He groans as he shifts beneath me and grabs my hair to turn me around to face him. “Let me get us a bottle of wine, beautiful. And we can talk before I get hard for you again.”
Sitting up, I clasp my blanket to my chest, shielding myself from the cold the absence of his warm body next to mine envelopes me with.
“Should I be worried?” I ask him, listening to him rummage through his kitchen in the distance.
“You tell me, beautiful.” He answers from the other room.
He appears back in the bedroom with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Setting everything down on his sideboard, he pours the wine and passes me my glass.
“Maybe I will need it more than you.”
Pulling my legs beneath me, I cover my legs with the blankets. Taking a sip from my wine, I hum, enjoying the taste of it.
“So, what is it?” I ask him as he sits on the bed with a sigh.
He looks at me like he is sorry for what he is about to say, and I soon enough discover why. “It’s about Francis.”
“What?” I shift, feeling uncomfortable, and pull at my blanket covering me further up. “What about him?”
It takes me everything to push down the bile rising in my throat and fight the urge to just storm out.
“She said you were particularly fond of him.”
I scoff, even if he looks like he is not joking at all.
The audacity of that woman. Of all the things she could have said, she had to use this card.
His words feel like blades cutting my skin open, and I hate Bridget for even thinking such bullshit. Opening my mouth, I press my tongue to my upper teeth, shaking my head. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
“I know,” he says, surprising me with his understanding. “But you have to give me something. You have to talk to me about it eventually. She said certain things to me that you have to get out of my head now and set them straight for me. I’m sorry about this, but I can’t act like I didn’t hear what she said until you will be ready to tell me. I understand that it takes time, but you can’t keep pushing it down. I know that it will make you fall, but I will be here to catch you.”
Feeling my eyes tear up, I inhale sharply. Never had anyone said anything like that to me or wanted to know anything about me this much, thinking about making me feel better. I never talked to anyone about Francis and my family, and I was always convinced that I would be buried with it.
“I can’t! You would hate me for it,” I whisper, shocking myself with my own words.
Putting his hand on my cheek, he wipes away a single tear that escaped my eyes. “I would never. And with all the things I pulled during my life, I highly doubt that I would be the last person in the position to judge you.”
Lowering my eyes, I smile sadly and take a deep breath as if wanting to collect a bit more of my courage. “What do you want to know?”
“Did he help you get here?” He asks, making me nod.
“Yes, he organized that I could get into the whorehouse. He got the share of my profits as I was working there, and I had to respond to him. He decided everything. From my services to my looks, outfits, my working schedule, free time… He also decided which clients I had to take, and also sent some my way sometimes.”
Him clenching his jaw gives me the impression that my answer is angering him without measure.
“But as soon as I got my fake papers, I changed into another whorehouse in a new neighborhood and dropped all my clients, I didn’t talk to anyone. Just kept in contact with Bridget.”
He nods, pondering over something as he continues to look at me intently. “Who helped you pull that off?”
“Huh?” I ask, and he squints his eyes at me.
“Changing whorehouses and districts like this… This isn’t something a whore could pull off alone. Did someone help you?”
“Yes,” I clear my throat as I squirm under his intense gaze. “There was a sweet guy. His father was something higher, so, he helped me. He saved my life.”
“Okay,” he breathes out. “I’m not going to ask you who it was, but you would have to soon. Is that alright?”
I nod repeatedly and he pushes out another breath. “Okay.”
Shifting to sit on my heel, I lay my hand on his. I hope that he believes me as I whisper, “I was never fond of him, Arawn.”
“She said you were talking about him constantly. Because you lived for him. That he was your God.” He slips his hand from me, and I take a big gulp from my wine, emptying the glass in one go.
I shake my head, and I could throw up at just the thought of that. “I was living for him because I was his slave. I didn’t have a chance. He doesn’t know where I am now, and I don’t want him to know. If he were my God, I would have stayed with him back home. I would have continued to serve to his horrible sexual desires and wouldn’t have begged him to let me leave for New York in the hopes of earning more money for him.”
Feeling my throat choking with desperation, I push down the urge to gag at the memory. “He was obsessed with me. And I was his favorite toy. He never would have let me go, if it wasn’t for the promise that it would get him more money. My only luck was that he is greedier than he is horny.”
“So, you two are not playing me to get something from me?” He asks, and I laugh panicky.
“No, he is dumb and has no patience for any strategic plan. If he had wanted something because he had thrown me to your feet, you would already have heard from him.”
Closing his eyes, it takes him a few seconds before he speaks again. “What about the chair?”
“Huh?” I ask, feigning ignorance.
“The chair, Nerthus. Why are you so scared about being tied to a chair?”
Shaking my head, I scrunch up my nose. “I don’t want to speak about it.”
“You have to tell me!” He insists, his expression void of any emotion.
Pushing out a shaking breath, I blink while looking up at the ceiling. “He used to tie me down whenever he could. Soon, as I kept panicking more every time he did it, he started to find some sick pleasure in it to punish me like this. He tied me down on a chair to do as he pleased with me. Sometimes he even had his friends… Do I really have to continue?”
“No,” he answers, giving in at seeing my pleading expression, and I push out a breath of relief.
He passes a hand over his face, sighing deeply. “I want to dissolve our contract, Nerthus.”