Abandonment is a terrifying feeling.
Within seconds, they’d returned. Sounding angry and more aggressive than before – especially the vicious voice – they scolded me for panicking. Beneath the hood, I felt sheepish. I now realized that this little episode had been a device to test me. The Mistresses had merely stopped in another deserted carpark and stood beside the car to see how I would react. I guess those few minutes truly broke me. I had failed the test.
The rest of the journey to their lair was quiet. The sun had risen and it was an unseasonably warm day. Under the hood and the blanket, I began to drift in and out of consciousness. Perforating the drowsy fog, however, was an elegant scent. In the calmness that now pervaded in the car, I could finally relax and I breathed in that distinctive fragrance. Later I discovered that it, and the aggressive voice, belonged to Mistress Kali. To this day, if I smell that perfume, I am briefly transported back to the hours I spent as her captive. And, naturally, I long to back under her protection and authority. To be her hostage. To be hers.
Stockholm Syndrome? You’d better believe it.
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