Page 41 of The Labyrinth

Rissa, somehow, seemed to see past all of that. She didn’t care about the dirty things I enjoyed, how I liked watching her cry, making her hurt. I thought looking into a mirror would make me hate myself more. Make me feel tainted and twisted. Instead, it made me feel whole. Like I was seeing the full version of myself for the first time. Maybe all along it wasn’t that pieces of me were rotten and decayed. Maybe they had just been missing, waiting to appear when I needed them most.

Maybe that’s what Rissa was. My missing pieces. The mirror I never wanted to look into. Now it was here, in front of me. I couldn’t help but clear away the smudges, desperate to see everything clearly for the first time. I pulled her behind me now, leading her down the stairs, past the kitchen, to one of the many rooms I never went into. I swung open the double doors, leading Rissa into the ornate dining room. The one I hadn’t entered since that fateful night so many years ago.

The one where I told Iris to meet me.

The one where my father found us, tossing me against the wall while he shook her body, roaring in her face.

The room I never quite recovered from.

Maybe it was time for a new set of memories here. Ones Rissa could help me with, wiping away the stains of the past. She seemed quite concerned that Iris had gotten to clean and cook for my father, as if this was a gift Rissa herself hadn’t received. But if she seemed so desperate to clean for me, then she could clean for me. I just didn’t think she was going to enjoy it as much as she thought she would.

She wrenched her wrist out of my grasp. “Why did you bring me here?”

“You wanted to clean,” I explained as calmly as I could. “I brought you to a room that needs cleaning.”

“You want me to clean all this?” Rissa looked around the room, spinning to take it all in. The pale walls reflected the shimmery light of the chandeliers. It was a large room, and like most of the house, it was cold. A massive dining table encompassed most of the pale marble floor, with oversized wooden chairs surrounding it. My father used to wine and dine his guests here, stuffing them full of lavish food and plying them with rich drinks so he could get his way. If I hadmyway, I’d burn it all.

“Yes.” I left her momentarily, striding over to the closet I knew housed the rarely used cleaning products, bringing back a bucket, mop, dust rags, and a whole host of cleaning paraphernalia. “Don’t let me stop you from starting. I know how much you were looking forward to this.”

Her eyes grew wide as she stood in front of the supplies. “You’re fucking serious.”

“I am.” I grabbed a chair and dragged it across the room, the wood scratching against the floor as I walked it over to the wall. I took a seat, crossing one of my legs across my knee. “Please. Begin.”

“And you’re just going to watch me?”

“Yes.” I smiled, confusion clouding her face. This was the twisted part of me I didn’t get to stretch all too often. The one who enjoyed playing with minds as much as I liked tormenting bodies. “But, Rissa. I’ll need your dress.”

The information sank into Rissa’s face. I expected a fight, or for her to snap at me. But she merely narrowed her eyes at me, and pulled her dress over her head, tossing it at my feet. “Happy?”

My smile grew. “Aren’t you happy? Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Rissa picked up the bucket, and left the room. A moment later she was back, steaming water nearly sloshing out the top. She picked up the mop, taking to her task slowly at first. But then she gained rhythm, and I realized that whether she liked it or not, she found the job soothing to her soul.

I sat in my chair, and watched. I enjoyed the way her breasts swayed as she pushed the mop. Grew hard eyeing her perfect ass as she knelt on her hands and knees with the scrub brush. I watched, knowing she could feel my gaze. She could feel it searing her, splitting her in two. Every so often she would look over her shoulder, or peek out of the corner of her eye. It was unsettling to have someone watch you. I knew this. I knew it well. For someone to watch you, and not speak, it was a torture all in its own. I didn’t let my eyes drift off her slender form, and made sure to lock gazes with her whenever I got the chance. I wanted to touch her, to fuck her, to make her scream. But that wasn’t what this was about right now.

So, I watched. She didn’t like it, of that I was certain. But she wanted to clean, and I wanted her to realize she had nothing to worry about. What better way would prove that than not taking my eyes off her? She would snap soon enough. It was just a question of if she would get angry, or if she would try and get her way. I couldn’t be certain which way Rissa would go, but I had to admit it was nice to build new memories in this once-cold room.Goodmemories. Memories that deserved to linger, to carve out space in the recesses of my brain.

I didn’t have to wait too much longer for my answer. Rissa was beginning to slow, the scrub brush stilling in her hand. She was thinking about something. How badly I wished I could see inside that perfect head of hers. Eventually, she sat back on her heels, a smile crossing her mouth. Her breasts were perfect globes, and I wanted to wrap my hands around them something fierce. “Don’t you think it’s clean enough, Master?”

I shrugged, dragging my fingertip down the arm of my oversized chair. It seemed she had gone with trying to get out of it. I knew it would get to her eventually. My eyes must have been hot on the smooth flesh of her back, boring holes right through her soul. “Do you really think you’re done?”

Rissa shook her head back and forth, tossing her hair across her bare shoulders. She looked up at me from under her dark lashes, a sweet temptress attempting to control her powers for the first time. I was curious to see how far she would take this, how desperate she was for me to claim her as mine once more. “I just thought, maybe there were other things you’d want to do.”

I didn’t look away from her bright gaze. “You wanted to clean, deliciae. And I want you to be happy. What else could I possibly want?”

She licked her lips, her tongue caressing the sweet swell of her full mouth. “Me.”

I bit my lip, imagining it was hers. She knew me too well. She knew the cravings that controlled my body. But I wasn’t sure she had really learned her lesson. I leaned forward, hands on my knees, my body compelled to draw closer to hers, even as my mind bade me to stay in control. "The only way I want you is crawling on your pretty little hands and knees, begging for me.”

Rissa’s eyes darkened. Something inside me called to her, to the darkness she kept so well hidden. She liked being told what to do, despite her wild need for independence. She liked the contrast it gave her, the false sense of safety. She wanted me to be harsh, as much as she enjoyed defying me. Rissa put the scrub brush down, and crawled toward me. I wanted to bottle the look in her eyes, to consume it whenever I needed. Rissa, crawling naked on the pale marble floors was enough to overwhelm a simpler man.

Luckily for us both, I was in no way simple. Rissa didn’t break eye contact the entire way, moving languidly as if she had all the time in the world. Somewhere, she knew the curse she was casting over me, the way my obsession twirled around my bones. I was poisoned by her, growing sicker by the day, but the toxin was also the cure, and how did one survive then?

She knelt between my legs, looking up at me with wide eyes. “Did I do a good job, Master?”

I knew what she wanted. She wanted me to tell her she was a good girl, and she had listened so well. She wanted praise. She wanted affection to warm her heart. But I wasn’t in that kind of mood today. I was in the mood to make her suffer for her love, so she never again doubted how much she meant to me. I lifted my booted foot, lowering down on her shoulder to push her lower to the ground. “I told you to beg.”

I didn’t miss the smirk that crossed her face as she sank to the floor, falling to her hands once more. “I’m sorry, Master. Please.”

---