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Review This Story || Author: Joanna O'Dwyer

Four Seasons

Chapter 3 Autumn

3 – Autumn

The air was cool, smelling of damp earth and rotting leaves, as the trees shed their summer finery and started to prepare for the winter to come. i never understood that…surely one should wrap up warm for the winter, not discard one's outer garb?

i blushed, though there was no one near to witness it. Hadn't i done that very thing? Was i not kneeling here in the grass, shivering and naked, shed leaves slimy beneath my legs, broken twigs jutting into my knees, the damp autumn creeping into my very bones? Was i not similar to a tree, following a cycle without end, the seasons of my life ordered and controlled. i had once felt comfort in that, comfort in knowing my place and my part in things, but now i felt i needed to be more like the tree, to wait in patience and observe, to accept the vagaries of life that were cast at me.

i did not feel so very stoic right now. The fierce heat of summer passion had been tempered by the cool autumn mists, and Master and Mistress had been busy with Their lives and Their work again. And then there had been the waspish words…and the long silences, the lack of attention. i was thankful for Their gifts but…

i winced as a wave of nausea washed through me. When was it that i had become so attuned to my slavery that any form of unworthy thought produced this physical reaction? Or was it just hunger? i had been out here for so very long, since the moon began to set behind the trees, its ghostly light rippling between the branches. i had watched silently as the rosy fingers of dawn probed the receding dusk, shivered as the early mist crept lasciviously over my prickling skin, fondling me with its clammy touch. And now…it was mid-morning, or maybe even early afternoon. The mist obscured what sun there may have been, and still i waited in that damp silent world.

An unbidden, unwanted, and long unused word rose into the forefront of my mind…why? i found myself mentally sampling the taste of the word and finding it rank and sour, like the crab-apples lurking in the long grass around me. It was a question i had not needed to ask in an age, and it was no less uncomfortable for that. But…why? Why had He led me out here, told me to wait until i was collected again?

i wondered if it had any connection to the raised voices, the harsh words that filtered down the stairs and through the bars of my cage this last evening? i had felt the atmosphere all evening…as i knelt at the table between Them, i could sense Them both avoiding each other's eyes. Dinnertime, once a time of joy, with happy and lively conversation to savour, even as i savoured every sliver of meat or piece of vegetable that They were kind enough to allow me, was once again a laboured, drawn-out ordeal. The only sound was the harsh crackling of fire in the grate, but its heat failed to extend beyond its own confines, and certainly did nothing to warm the atmosphere in that room. The bright colours of our summer together had faded and begun to dissolve into the grey of late autumn. There had been too many nights like this. As the year waned, so too did Their feelings. There was resentment and recrimination, hanging heavy in the air like a thick fog, stifling the joy. But i did not know why, or what had changed.

i knelt in misery that evening, even more so due to the dish that lay on the floor in front of me. So distracted were They by Their own brooding thoughts that i was superfluous, my food set down almost as an afterthought, instead of lovingly fed to me by the hands of my Owners. And so i knelt, as it grew cold in front of me, having not had permission to eat. They had not even taken the trouble to fasten my hands, and i fought to keep my wrists crossed behind me, my muscles tense and aching, though i doubt that Either would have noticed had my arms dropped limp to my sides. This merely increased my misery, and i strained to maintain my position, to be a good girl, in the hope that He or She might look down, notice me and smile, and bring some warmth back into this cold evening.

i was still forlornly hoping, long after dinner was over, and They left without a word. i finally rose on legs prickling with pins and needles, knowing that i must do what i must do, with or without permission. i looked sadly upon the table, my eyes starting to prick with tears as i surveyed the ruins of the meal and the ruins of the evening. They had hardly touched a thing. Gravy congealed in a brown sea around lost islands of potatoes and forgotten continents of sliced beef on Their plates. Broccoli and spinach slumped cold and lifeless in the serving bowl, undisturbed. All that had been touched was the wine. Both the carafes were drained, and the glasses empty. All around the shadows lengthened as the sun began to set, the last rays briefly touching the table setting then seeming to shrink away, not wishing to be tainted by the decay there.

i bent to pick up my own cold food, however i no longer had any appetite, and so placed it with the other evidence of my failure. Well who else's could it be? Perhaps the food was not well prepared, although i had thought it so. Maybe it was i who had let them down…

***

For the remainder of the evening i had set about my tasks, removing and disposing of the food, washing and drying the dishes, cutlery, glassware and cooking utensils, but it seemed like a Labour of Hercules rather than the usual joyous and satisfying service, performed from love.

He had disappeared…to His study, so i thought. i had heard the clink of a glass as i had slipped past on the way back from the kitchen, and the sharp crystalline retort pierced my chest. Master did not normally drink so. So much wine, followed by hard spirits from his drinks cabinet?

My legs were heavy like dead branches, as i made my way to Mistress in the lounge. It was almost a relief to drop into my position, to clasp my hands behind me again, and await her pleasure.

But there was no pleasure. She ignored my presence and, from occasional stolen glances, i could see that She was reading her book, or at least staring unseeingly at it and infrequently turning a page.

The large grandmother clock in the hall sliced the long evening down into countless little tediums, its deep tick cutting through the silence in that room. It was warmly lit by fringed lamps and the glow from the hearth, dancing over the browns and deep oranges woven into the rugs, and the dark cream of the sofa upon which She reclined, and was usually my favourite room in the house, a friendly and inviting place. But tonight the atmosphere rendered it dark and inhospitable; the colours lost their definition and became sludgy. Or were those the colours of my soul?

i was ashamed of the relief i felt when She finally rose and shut the book with a snap. i felt Her gaze rest upon me briefly and a spark of hope ignited in my heart, only to be snuffed out at Her words. "you are dismissed. Prepare for the night. Cellar cage."

And then Her soft footsteps receded over the thick rugs and the door clicked shut in Her wake.

i let the tears flow then. It was me…whatever was wrong was my fault.

***

Even later that night, as i lay curled in my cage, into which i had placed myself, the door unlocked, as They commanded the padlock, this feeling returned. i whimpered into the small rubber ball that i had strapped in my mouth, more for comfort than anything else, and shifted under my thin blanket, taking care not to let it slip off. i had clipped my own cuffs together behind me again for the feeling of security that i so craved tonight, and it had been difficult to arrange my covering thus restrained, so i did not want to lose it.

It was then in the stale chilly darkness of the cellar that i heard them. i could not make out more than mere scraps of sentences, but i heard my name…my real name, my old name, one i had almost forgotten, and strained to hear more. His voice was deep and harsh with fury, Hers shrill.

His: "…summer…trying to crowd me out…you and her…"

Hers: "…stupid…off and play golf…get drunk…could have joined…"

His: "…lapping it up like a little slut…your little toy…"

Hers: "…two's company…" and a final sentence, crystal clear and twice as cutting. "If you are bored, go and get your own!"

And then the reverberating crash of a slammed door, and quick, angry footsteps fading down the hall.

***

He had said hardly a word, as He'd woken me from my restless slumber and bound my wrists and elbows behind me with rough twine that made me flinch as it scratched at my flesh. A ring gag replaced the ball; the cold rubber coated ring prising open my jaws until they ached. i whimpered, hating this, but having no choice but to accept my…punishment. For what else could it be?

He had clipped on my leash, and led me out in the cold darkness, my bare feet sinking into the rank grass as i was tugged to the end of the garden, the darkest, dankest spot where the weeds grew and the water dripped from the leaky guttering of the old woodshed.

He bade me kneel in the debris of fallen leaves, and discarded twigs, and quickly bound my ankles, pulling my legs tightly together with more of the detestable twine. i bit down upon the ring gag, but it gave me no purchase, no comfort.

Finally, He stood back, regarding me. i dared to look up and saw with shock that He was unshaven and dishevelled, as if He had slept in his clothes. His expression was almost hostile, and my heart shrivelled to see it.

He spoke, His voice rough. "There you will stay today until you are collected again. Use the time and think." And with that he spun on his heel and marched away into the twilight.

And i had obeyed, as i always obeyed. i thought and thought as the chill seeped in, as my body seemed to join with the earth, as i imagined moss growing on me, just like that tree. All around was the sight and smell of decay, which mirrored my emotions only too well.

Their words echoed in my mind again, tarnished with the patina of…jealousy.

"Crowding me out!"

"Your little toy!"

"go and get your own!"

And i wept anew, knowing that i, who wanted so much to serve, so much to be one with Them, had started to drive Them apart. A gust of wind blew through the neglected garden and a leaf spiralled down in front of me and then another…and another…


Review This Story || Author: Joanna O'Dwyer
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