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of his
promise to keep and protect me. In an odd way, I hope it always hurts when he fucks me so that I can never forget I’m
his.
    I’m contemplating the perversity of my
thoughts when he slides open a pocket door in the rear wall of the
gym that I hadn’t even realized was there. Behind it is another
room, and I wonder why Travis didn’t show it to me on my first day.
Surely it’s another room of the house that requires cleaning.
    But then I catch a glimpse of what the room
contains, and I catch my breath. Now I am afraid.
    It wouldn’t be accurate to call the room a
dungeon, because it’s not dark or dank or filled with the skeletons
of dead bodies chained to the walls. But the implements it
contains would certainly be right at home in a dungeon. I catalog
them with a growing sense of hysteria.
    Leather straps, some clearly meant to be used
as restraints, others intended as whips.
    A variety of shackles and, yes, chains.
    A bench similar to the one in the gym, but
narrower and fitted with manacles clearly meant to hold the
occupant’s hands and feet in place.
    Finally, a set of ropes that hang from the
ceiling, the purpose of which I imagine is the suspension of a
human being. Of me.
    Madre de Dios , what kind of monster
have I given myself to?
    I glance furtively at the door that leads out
of the gym and into the main house. Can I make it in time?
    But of course, that’s silly. Where would I
go? I’m stark naked, and it’s the middle of the night. Even if I
made it to the street, which is unlikely, what then?
    “You’re not thinking of running away, are
you?” my master asks, his voice low and, unaccountably, a little
amused. He takes a step toward me and, reflexively, I take a step
backward.
    That’s a foolish move, because he’s instantly
right next to me, grabbing me by the arm. He marches me into the
room, where I get an even closer look at his instruments of
torture, items clearly designed for the purpose of rendering his
victims helpless. If this is what he wanted of the other maids who
came before me, I understand why they refused to obey.
    But I’ve not only agreed to obey, I’ve ceded
the one bit of protection I had. I’ve given him everything. Mexico
and certain death suddenly seem welcome.
    “Don’t be afraid, Gabi.” The words are so
gentle, so unlike his usual unyielding persona that my pulse slows
from sprinting to merely racing. “This room isn’t for punishment,
but for fun. For both of us.”
    Fun? Is he insane? “How can I have fun if I
am chained up and beaten?” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I
wish them back. Will he be angry that I’ve questioned him? Will he
chain me up and beat me here and now for my insolence?
    He slips his hand under my chin and lifts my
face. There is no anger in his eyes. In fact, what I see there
looks like…sympathy.
    “You will just have to trust me that, when
the time comes, you will enjoy everything here as much as I
do. Pain and pleasure are closely linked, two sides of a single
coin. You’ll learn as time goes on that I will never give you more
of either sensation than you can bear.”
    I want to believe him, but I’ve only known
him a day. The enormity and finality of what I’ve done by binding
myself to this hard, inscrutable man crashes over me like the waves
on the beach below his house.
    “In any case,” he continues, perhaps sensing
he won’t convince me right away that his intentions aren’t
malevolent, “I’m not ready to introduce you to this side of
pleasure just yet, so you’re safe from chaining and beating today.
It’s just that I keep all the toys in here, and I have in mind to
use some of the more…standard ones tonight.”
    My mind blanks out, refusing to contemplate
what “standard toys” might be. He leaves me and opens a cabinet,
retrieves a plastic box that’s about the size of two shoeboxes,
then returns to my side.
    “Go up to my bedroom now, Gabi, and lie down
on the bed. I have a small matter of