To help steady myself, I began thinking, Claire would approve of this. I took a deep breath and wiped away my tears and start working the banking app until I landed on the QR code fund transfer tab. Bingo! I then put my burner phones in a row and started scanning and inputting random transfer amounts. Sebby again showed me why he is a good boy by being quiet the whole time. While I wait for confirmation for the transfers, I fed him another treat, and I move to the next step, cleaning up. 


I removed the platinum wearable from his wrist, used his lazy security cam remote access app and formatted the harddrives, then shut the system down for good measure. Pack up the hanky, pen and paper. Last but not least, a blackmail polaroid of his current state to make sure he keeps quiet. Click, the motors whirl, the trump card spat out. I was disappointed. Just a naked white dude caught in the middle of BDSM playtime… people are very forgiving towards alternative (non child involving) sexual preferences now, and the longer I look at the pic the more it resembles a screengrab of “Unexpected Predators Season XXX” than a blackmail photo, especially when his eyes are transmitting regret straight through the lens, making an effortless plea for sympathy. At this point, I somehow found myself asking questions, how many levels are there to ‘deserve’?


Only half of the transfers are confirmed. Fuck. Nothing else to do except constantly checking my watch, in this lull of inactivity, fear started creeping in, as much as I imagined myself as a psychopathic femme fatale out for revenge, and no matter how deeply I immersed myself in the role of a sadistic dominatrix, the fear of ending up in jail grows exponentially as time flows by. I had experience obtaining funds through devious means but gaslighting people into giving donations on an app is kiddie stuff compared to this ongoing endeavour. My thoughts drift back to fond memories of Claire. If only we had just skipped that one play party, we could have a future, Claire had just started to regain faith in intimacy, we could have taken trips abroad, experienced different kinks of different cultures, I could attend workshops to further my skill set, if only…


If only Seb had fucked an escort instead of cumming inside Claire, this villa would have been an exquisite weekend getaway fo her and I, we could have built a loving kink community in the dungeon, or hosted at-risk youths during the weekdays, Claire would have been proud, and truly happy… But if Claire had a different childhood, our lives probably wouldn’t have intersected… This thought made my heart sink into an pit, it seemed that no matter how the dice is rolled, Claire plus me would never equate to long lasting joy together.


Fuck. So be it, riches or not, without Claire, my future days will forever be suck into a constant loop of unsolvable ‘if only’s. I gathered the burners, didn’t care if the transfers are confirmed or not, trashed Seb’s phone with my heels, threw them all in my bag and walk away from this dreaded dungeon for good. But before I go, I decided to inflict one last act of torture, I whispered into Seb’s ear one, “Claire says happy anniversary.” 


HIS

FACE

HAS

NO 

EMOTIONAL

RESPONSE


This triggered me to place the handkerchief back over his face and I pour water, not with a glass but straight from the jug. I wanted him to feel what Claire felt. 


This handkerchief trick was an old Claire invention. I only thought she wanted to switch things up when she asked me to try it on her, our bondage breath play mask had broken and she told me this could be a cheaper alternative. I was hesitant, a mask has a safety valve, but one’s airway doesn’t have a valve to stop water. I tried to explain it to her but she was very combative,

“If you’re being such a pussy, I’ll write and sign a waiver, I’ll even pay for a notary if you want.”

I felt compelled to do whatever I could to satisfy her, so I agreed to pour one single teacup of water as a litmus test, and she reluctantly accepted. I watched the soaked handkerchief weighing down on her face, weary of what comes next.

“I feel NOTHING, more! Use a proper cup, for fuck’s sake.”

Claire lasted 9 cups of water before choking and tapping out, but with a wide grin on her face. 


“That’s not too bad.” she remarked. I can still vividly remember these haunting words. 


These words show up in my mind with regularity, pre-disappearance, post-disappearance; however, I was too obsessed with keeping a smile on her face whenever and however I can that I didn’t give myself pause and figure out what these words point to. I was too busy judging myself whether I was a good jester or not and I never noticed she had changed her phone’s wallpaper to a beautiful painting of Hamlet’s Ophelia drowning. When we went hiking in scenic fields I was fixated on being a perfect photographer and only thinking of taking the next perfect photo of us amongst beautiful flowers, never able to see beyond my tunnel vision as she wandered away looking for streams and ponds. I never thought twice when she was sewing flowers onto a new white gown. When the police interviewed me after her body was found, I only talked about her traumatic past with Sebestian and laying the blame on him, that I never looked inward and see that it was me that missed all the signs.


Memories turned into a self-reflective train of thoughts in the blink of an eye, and I awoke from this year-long illusion that Seb was the sole guilty party. I pulled away the jug and the handkerchief from the choking Seb and removed the gag and untied his upper body to let him cough up water. As soon as I was done freeing the ropes, I hid behind a spanking bench and started weeping. I missed Claire like never before, the suppressed memory of her telling me a final story roared back to life. I was hoping that occupying myself with this Sebestian crusade will distance me from grief but it’s only a stop-gap solution. Nothing was achieved, and I gained only a lifetime burden of always looking over my shoulder. As Seb’s coughing subsided I was expecting a round of expletives. 


“You have always reminded me of Claire. I am perverted but I still mourn her.” Seb’s voice started quavering.

“You would rather book a session with me than to honour her on her anniversary, don’t B.S. me” I was doubtful.

“I know what day it is today. When you requested a jug of water, I knew what was going to happen and I allowed it.” Sounding like a prick who HAVE to be the smartest person in the room.

“You understand you’re the reason why she left us, right?” I try to break down his mental defences.

“Yes. As I grew older and my family members started dying mysteriously in quick succession, I felt like they were paying for my sins and forced me to look back at my past evils. I donated my wealth to charities, I wanted to make Claire’s life the best there is but there is a hard limit to what I can do for her.” 

“Oh, you keep tabs on her?” Of course I know the answer is yes, but my mind is too exhausted to think of more clever questions.

“I pull strings to let her have the best jobs one could ask for. I seeked out her landlord to keep the rent lower for her while I pay for the difference. But I also know I have to make sure she doesn’t know I am involved. It wasn’t easy, I had to hire specialist consultants to do these. If I could, I would hire a round the clock therapist with her as the only client, but I can’t force her.” 

“Yeah, you can’t be both the victimizer and the healer. And your consultants suck because Claire found out she is working at your subsidiary anyway. Why did you still go to play parties if you are keeping tabs on her, weren’t you informed of her movements?”

“I keep tabs, but the anonymous nature of the scene makes it hard to identify who’s who … It really broke my heart when I hired a private detective after her passing to understand what went wrong and unearthed the kink connection. I really thought her life was going on well.”

“Yes, it was going on well. Until you fucking trampled all over it.”

“I know… I also know you have been a very loving partner. And a decent dominatrix.”

“...OK…” I hope he is not expecting a fucking Thank You.

"In some macabre way, I feel a connection to Claire during our sessions.”

“Fuck that shit!” I threw up in my mouth a little, then picked up the closest whip and lash out at him.

“I fully deserve this. I fully deserve it.” He muttered.

The word ‘fully’ made me stop dead in my tracks, my hands trembled and my legs gave out, I collapsed on the floor. I was reminded of my complicity, my ineptitude as a partner . 

“I also played a part by being so unaware…” I’m back to weepy mode again, and I hate myself. 

Seb untied his legs and helped me up, “I hope tonight is cathartic enough for you.”

“Won’t bring her back, won’t heal my guilt.” I ruminate as I back away from Seb, who then fished out a hidden pair of pants from a saddle stool and handed me a card.

“How about a 24/7 therapy service, in person, all paid for.” Still a control freak. 

“I’ll think about it.” Well I would never turn down perks. 

“Keep the money by the way.”

“OK.” Still not saying Thank You. 

“Feel free to use my security services to vet your future clients.” Hands me another card.

“...You sure you’re not using them to disappear me?” I really want to avoid saying Thank You, but also a genuine concern.

“You and Claire are a valuable lesson to me. If and when I start a new family, I don’t want to have memories of disappearing traumatized people.”

“How can you be sure history will not repeat when you’re a sick pedo?”

“I have spent quite a bit of money for treatments on this, also, having caused the suicide of one child is a pretty strong deterrence, don’t you think?”

“I’ll destroy you if you even think about hurting another child. I got to know quite a few hacker friends when preparing for tonight, and I have the photo.”

“Fair enough. But, one last thing I hope you’ll consider.” Hands me the final card.

Please don’t be “Let’s stay in touch.” 

“Can you sit on the board on this Sexual Abuse Survivors charity? I set it up but I’m totally hands off. Your   experience will be a helpful asset. Other board members have similar experiences as well, and I have a zero old farts policy. Would be a fun work environment, you'll get good pay… And keep you from thinking about another lousy stunt like tonight’s, you really could have ended up in a body bag, long before you’re able to set up anything with your hacker pals.”

“I’ll think about it.” The fuck do I know about board meetings.

“Please accept it… at least I could save one person I…” Seb paused and his eyes grew red with tears, I understood and relented.

“OK, I’ll accept it, but no keeping tabs on me, OK?”

“Sure. I trust that you can do good for those in need.”

“So, that concludes our session.” I put on my coat and grabbed my bag.

“Yes. Mistress.”

“Don’t get in touch with me without my say-so.” 

“Your command will be honoured.” 

Aww… I would miss this puppy. For a bit. 

“Stay. I’ll see myself out.” I could have commanded him to leave me the keys to the villa as well, but luxury wouldn’t help me heal.


I take a deep breath and walk out the back door, fully expecting a gunshot, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary except for a car service waiting for me. I pause to soak in the sun slowly rising in the background, the starting of a new day, and the possibility of my life progressing into a new phase. As I watch the trees, bicycles, houses, shops, people pass by through the car window, freeze frames from memories of the time with Claire slowly start seeping in, of us loving, hating, failing, dancing, whipping… How I wished these images can just fly into the distance and be reduced to a dot where it no longer mattered in my heart, but I also knew eventually the images will rebound from the vanishing point, but instead of dodging, I am ready to embrace them. Last night’s takeaway is, Seb may be the trigger and the gunpowder, but I was the gun barrel that allowed all the destruction to happen. 


I took a week off from my gigs and spent the time pieceing together some looks for my new job, whilst waiting for an artsy-fartsy delivery. I bought a print of that Ophelia painting and hung it on the wall as a memorial for Claire, sometimes I would see her face, eyes closed with a smile, along with her cute blushes, and I feel a certain calmful joy emanating from her, something that I failed to help her attain, but a reminder that I have to be more aware of what my future partner needs, and not what my ego yearned.