Third assignment for Mishka

[Mishka]

Monica wielded the broom as if earthly time was quickly running out and eternal damnation awaited anyone who left an unswept floor. Dumping the contents of the dustpan into the garbage can and tossing the broom into the closet, she kneeled in front of the door as her Master’s key turned in the lock.

“Hello, Love,” he said with a smile, stuffing the small pile of mail into her mouth and walking into the kitchen for his dinner. She stood, her heartbeat slowing from her cleaning frenzy. She placed the pile of bills on the desk for her to fill out before he left for work in the morning.

“How was your day, Sir?” she asked, following him into the kitchen, and giving him a routine kiss on the lips. He grabbed a handful of nuts to nosh on and went to fix himself a drink.

“Fine, fine. Busy as usual.” He sat down at the table sipping his scotch. Monica removed the casserole from the oven and carried it to the table. She served him a large helping and returned to the kitchen to get the vegetables. After serving she took her place, sitting on the floor next to his chair. After a few bites he placed a small bowl with a helping for her on the floor.

“How was your day?” She stopped mid-bite. He rarely asked her about her day. They spoke of other things usually. He set her daily routine, so the only reason to discuss it would be if something were going to change, or, God forbid, she had neglected something.

“The same, Sir,” she gulped. She sat up, and he petted her head. He smiled.

“The way you were crashing about before I came in, I thought perhaps you had to rush to get your chores done. My schedule for you is well planned. So what were you doing today?”

It was now or never. Bravely, she stood and looked into his eyes. She reached up and unbuckled her collar and placed it gently on the table. “Packing,” she whispered.

He was dumbfounded, she could tell by the look in his eyes. He wasn’t expecting this. She must have been a confusing slave to live with. Her chores would be done perfectly one day, and the apartment was a mess the next. She used to accept punishment without argument, even gratefully, but for several months she took it with resentment. Today was the same. She had packed some things, hidden the boxes, made phone calls to make changes on the bills. He never looked at them; only she handled their finances, so he had no idea. Then she caught up with her chores for fear of failing in her duties. Hence, her frenzied state when he came home.

She walked to the bedroom and dressed. She took her suitcase out from under their bed. When she looked up there he was in the doorway. “At least stay and explain.” She didn’t want to speak, so she just looked at the floor. She was hurting the man she loved for 10 years, who she was bound to. “Please.”

Her head snapped up. She hadn’t heard a request for nine and a half years. She swallowed. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t live like this anymore.” It was true. It shocked her to see the change within herself. “I don’t want to stay at home all day. I don’t want to cook for you. I don’t want to clean the apartment just the way you want it. I don’t want to be punished anymore.”

“When did this happen?” he asked loudly. She could see his shock, anger, confusion, and sadness all crossing his face.
“Nine months ago. I looked out the window and wanted to go out, but couldn’t. I was in shackles that day. I hadn’t done the bills the night before, so you put me on house arrest until it was time to go grocery shopping again. I needed to get out. I thought I would go crazy if I didn’t get outside. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I opened every window but it didn’t help.”

“You’ve never said a word.” He stood rooted to his spot on the carpet.

“I made a promise. I thought it was PMS,” she laughed weakly. “I would be fine and then it seemed like I had never been fine. The bad days made all the good days seem small in comparison to how miserable I felt. Then when I was fine again, I thought the bad days were just a blip.”

“Why are you leaving instead of talking to me about this first? You disrespect me that much? You had to do THIS?” His hand took in the suitcase, and her closet half empty, and his eyes widened. He never raised his voice, or lost his temper. This would be as far as he would go in front of her.

“I did. Four months ago. I tried several times and you gave me pats on the head, some spankings for being a “bratty” sub, and you smiled. I thought you knew when I was being serious. I’ve tried since then, but I just didn’t know what to say. Everything I rehearsed in my head was too confusing to put into words.”

He walked towards her, rubbed her arms with his hands, as if to warm her heart by warming her physically. “Don’t do this. Not this way.”

She looked up at him and asked, “I have to pack up and go for you to hear me out?”

“Where were you planning to go? Who knew about this before I did?”

“Just Maddie. She needs a roommate while Helen is away.” He looked down at the floor and let go of her arms. She didn’t want to talk anymore. Not right now. They would talk later. She walked to the front door.

He turned around to her, “How long?” She stopped to face him, too. “How long will Helen be gone?”

“Just the summer.”

He nodded. “You’ll be back for things.” She nodded. “We need to talk more about this.”

She stood silent for a minute. This was a good thing, she thought. This would work out for the best for them both.
“I hoped you’d want to.” Then she left, closing the door softly behind her.