Rain - Part 2
#2 of Rain
Rain - Chapter 2
The fox rolled onto his back, slowly opening his eyes. He could see nothing; the room he was in was pitch black. His eyes, opening more and more, were of no use to him. By some miracle, however, his arms were free. It was the first time he had woken up comfortably and not been tied to something. He stretched across whatever it was that he was lying on. It was soft, and there was a blanket on him, but that was all he knew. His arms sprawled to opposite extremes of his body, and then a little more. It felt good to stretch; he hadn't been able to do it for such a long time due to tight, binding ropes. The fox yawned, curling his tongue at its end. He retracted his arms to his side and let himself relax. He laid still, limp, collected, with the only noise coming from his restful breathing and the soft tap of the rain on the roof.
His cool state was flared as he realized something. His heart pounding, the realization that he was inside dropped on him as though Thor's hammer had struck. Inside meant trapped, trapped meant pain, and pain was bad. The otter was surely about, and he had a short time to escape his new fate. The quickened pace of his heart increased as he attempted to jump from whatever he was on. His efforts only constricted him, though. His relaxation was now tangled in a mess along with his limbs. The blanket that had provided him warmth was now truly doing its job as the fox's blood boiled in terror. He panicked. His arms flailed franticly, but all he succeeded in doing was getting himself even more trapped. Kicking his legs at full strength did little to nothing to help the situation. His brooding thoughts sliced his mind as escape became lost. He could not circumvent the situation; he had failed.
Determination exploded one last time inside of the fox, and with one last attack, he shredded his restraints. They shot off of him, but he shot off of the platform. His momentum swung him to his right, and plunged him off. He slammed his head on something, and within seconds, was out of it.
Linda flicked on the lights to her room. What she saw shocked her. Her bedspread was tattered, there was blood on the corner of her nightstand, and her new slave was lying on the floor, lifeless. Rushing over to his aid, her muzzle hung agape. She knelt to his side, and pulled him out of her sheets. He had obviously hit himself hard. A small cut was his trophy to his accident. Linda parted the fur on his head, and found it next to his ear, which was dropped. It didn't seem bad, certainly not bad enough to knock a fur out. He had probably fainted from fear. Linda licked her thumb and wiped away a bit of the blood. Not that it was really bleeding, but blood was still there. She picked him up, and even though she wasn't that strong, lifted him with ease. Using two of her free fingers, she opened the door to her private bathroom.
She set the fox on her toilet. He had to be stopped from falling over a few times, but eventually he stayed still. A small white cabinet above his head had what Linda wanted, so she carefully stepped up to it by having one leg on each side of the toilet. The door creaked open, and a small box was resting next to a bottle of pills. She took the box and went on to open it. It was reluctant to make itself accessible, but with a small fight it popped open. The otter pulled out a small bandage and quickly applied it to her slave's wound. He groaned, but remained unconscious. Linda nodded at her handiwork. She had been quite the medic over the past day. Patching up the fox's gash on his stomach and tail was no easy feat. But the white gauss that encompassed the trauma was proof that she had a good skills with band-aids. She smiled at herself, and picked the fox up again.
She carried him into her living room, which was directly below her bedroom. The couch seemed like a good place to set him down, so she did. The light, starved fox slid from her arms and onto the sofa. Linda picked up his head and gently slid a pillow underneath it.
"Well, I found what the noise was," she said.
"Heh, I see that," said another otter that was sitting in a chair that was next to the couch. She had blond hair, and deep brown eyes to match her fur. This was only a slight contrast to Linda, whose only major difference was that instead of having hair, she only had her natural fur.
"So, what happened? He looks hurt," the other otter continued.
"Oh, yeah. He fell and thumped his head on my nightstand. He got himself good," Linda replied. She looked at the fox as she sat down in a chair next to her fireplace.
"Hmm, well, as I was saying, do you want to go swimming? I mean, it's such a nice day, why waste it?" the other otter suggested.
Linda pondered it for a moment. Could she leave her slave alone in his condition? He was sleeping, so he couldn't really be too much of a problem... "Alright," she said, "I think there are some towels already outside. Let me just get undressed..." Her voice trailed off as she jumped out of her shirt, then her jeans, and lastly her bra and panties. The other otter did the same.
"Well, then, let's get going," Linda said when she finished. A nod of agreement was returned, and they walked out the sliding glass door that linked the living room to the back yard, where there was an in-ground pool. The soothing sound of the graciously light rain filled the house as the opened the door and ran into the pool.
With a sudden jolt of fiery energy, the fox shot to life. A terrified expression dawned his face as he struggled to remember where he was. It was not a long battle with his memory, and after about a minute, he clearly recalled that he was in the otter's house. Hysteria kicked him, and he flew off the couch he was on. He didn't get up immediately, despite the fear. Instead, he remained on the floor, and took a second to do something that so many slaves could not - rationalize. He perked up his left ear, and waited. To his pleasant surprise, he didn't hear anything. His tail twitched at this, as this meant that the otter wasn't around. This was good; he could get off of the carpet.
Slowly standing, his tail between his legs, the fox silently scanned the room. It was a large room, with white walls. A fireplace aided two lamps to keep it lit, as the sun was not shining any hope into the room. Despite it being large, it was cozy. It had an open way into what seemed to be the kitchen, a large window that was covered partially by curtains, and a corner that looked like it led to the entrance of the house. The furniture in the room was oddly nice too. There was a nice armchair next to the couch he had just awoken on, and there were plenty of pictures of his new mistress and another otter that had blond hair. There was no tile, only carpet, which made everything seem nicer also.
When he finished admiring the room, he looked back at the kitchen entryway, for next to it was a glass door that he assumed led to the back yard. That would probably be his best way out. He had no plans to stay and get beaten to oblivion. No, it was run or die. That in mind, the fox went over his plan. He would slip out of the door, scan the backyard, and if all was safe, run like hell. It wasn't very elaborate, but it was the best he had. He also hadn't exactly thought it through; it was a spur of the moment. But this seemed to be his only chance. He would not lose it. Sighing, he headed towards the door.
It opened with no noise, and he absconded to the yard. It was drizzling, and a bit windy, but still light out, so he would have to be especially careful. He attentively closed the door behind him, and proceeded with step two of his jerry-rigged plan. He scanned the yard. With no one in sight, he crept off the porch, and onto the lawn. To his dismay, his owner appeared out of the pool that was in the center of the yard. She noticed him, and had a confused look on her face. The other otter soon appeared behind her, and mimicked the fox's owner with a confused look. They were both at a loss, and were blatantly unhappy. He was screwed now.
Linda hoisted herself out of the pool and said, "What are you doing?" Her tone was unintentionally aggravated, but she paid no heed. She approached the fox, expecting an answer. Instead, he fell to his knees and put his arms up in defense. His head was ducked, his ears were limp, and his tail was tucked between his legs. The poor thing was terrified. Linda walked closer to him, dripping water behind her.
"P-please, I-I'm sorry!" he burst out. Tears dripped from his eyes as he began shaking, anticipating a beating. Trembling, he took in a deep breath, and began muttering the word 'sorry' repeatedly. He stiffened, waiting for the first blow. But it didn't come. Sitting still for a while, the fox's eyes clenched shut, confusion began to grow in the fox. His breathing became very light; so light, in fact, that it was hard to tell that he was breathing at all. He seemed to be a statue, the only thing showing life was his shaking.
Still, no punch was thrown. The fox was now confounded. Why hadn't he been hit yet? He slowly opened his eyes, and got a small peak of something terrifying. The otter was sitting in front of him, smiling. His eyes shut tight once again. The only time his previous masters smiled was when they had a new form of torture to test out on him. He learned that smiles equal pain. And now that the otter was smiling, pain would ensue. He was sure of it. But it didn't. The fox felt nothing but the cool wind once again.
Worry ran through him. If he hadn't been smacked by now, then there was probably a horror in the works. He peered out once again, expecting to see something awful. But, rather than something terrible, he found a welcomed sight. The otter was gone, and all that was in front of him was wet grass. He searched for the otter, but it was rather limited. He didn't check behind him.
When he felt a wet paw on his shoulder, he freaked. With a yelp, he fell face first to the ground, slamming his face once again. It hurt, but he had no time to wallow in the pain. He jumped up, and tried to crawl away. He came to no avail, though, and was pulled back by a pair of wet paws on his sides. He was much too weak to struggle, and was pulled back easily. He still struggled, and he put forth all the resistance he had at his disposal, but it was still not enough. He fell into a wet trap that was his mistress.
Linda grabbed the frightened fox and yanked him in to her. He desperately tried to escape, but he could not break free. She refused to let go. She pulled him close to her, and wrapped her arms around him. At once, he froze. He ceased his struggling, and his breathing became shallow. Linda kept him in her arms, hoping that he would realize that it was more of a hug than anything. She loosened her hug in an attempt to calm the frenzied fox. He was tense, and with good reason. Most other furs had different, harsher views on how to handle their slaves than she did. With that in mind, she decided to comfort the fox.
"Shhh, don't worry," she breathed into his flattened ear, "I won't hurt you."
She got no direct response, so she decided to try something else. She stood and wrapped a towel around her. The other otter had already wrapped up and went inside, so she decided to follow. She picked up the fox, and was hit with more struggling, but easily subdued it. Linda went into the warm house, her slave in her arms.
She put him on the couch, and dried off. It wasn't hard to; the water pretty much rolled off her fur. She finished and decided that she could wait to redress. Instead, she sat next to her fox. His ears were against his head and he was holding onto his tail. It seemed to comfort him.
Linda got closer and asked, "What's your name?" She already knew of course; it was on his paperwork. But still, it was a great way to see if he would at least respond to her. To her delightful bewilderment, he did.
"Its T-Taylor, m-mistress," he quietly stammered. Linda watched as he shifted restlessly.
"Well, Taylor, my name is Linda, and I want you to know that I won't hurt you. You don't have to fear me. I'm not cruel. I promise to protect and take care of you. Believe me, I -" She was cut off by the sound of rummaging from her kitchen. "I'll be right back. I think my sister is getting into something."
She stood and headed to her kitchen, where she found her sister ransacking her fridge. She walked over to her and asked, "Alright, I'll bite. What'cha looking for?"
"Cheese. Pepperjack, if ya got it," her sister replied.
Linda rolled her eyes and said, "It's right here Sue." She reached in and pulled it out. She was about to hand it off to Sue, but stopped. "Wait, let's make some nachos!"
"What? It's only nine in the morning," Sue said. Linda seemed to think about it, but her thoughts were absolute.
"Yeah, why not. Besides, I bet Taylor's pretty hungry too. So, come on! We had a light breakfast anyways," she said. Sue hesitated, but eventually agreed.
Taylor breathed a sigh of relief when the otter was gone. He sank down onto the couch and relaxed. He was astounded that he hadn't been beaten. It was insane to think that he wouldn't be hurt for trying to escape. Staring at a wall, he pondered what his mistress had just said. 'You don't have to fear me.' Anyone who told him that would obviously be lying, except for her. Maybe she was different... His thoughts were slaughtered by a massive wave of hunger that swept up his curled gut. He gripped his stomach and groaned. The last time he had food was three days ago, at the holding center. He had had water of course, but not food. Then he thought about something else his new mistress said. 'I'll take care of you'. Did that not mean she would feed him as well. He glanced at the kitchen. It would be a dangerous move to go into it. But, if his mistress meant what she said... He sluggishly rose to his feet, and headed for the kitchen. He made himself look as submissive as possible, in hopes that if they did get angered with him, they would go easy with the punishment. He stood outside the entrance to the food haven, and listened to his stomach. It was screaming at him to pursue, but his mind was beating it down with fear. He was in full self-preservation mode, and it was tearing him up, both physically and mentally. But, his stomach won in the end, and he slowly stepped into the kitchen. Besides, there wasn't much that the otter could do to him that hadn't already been done.
He stepped in, his head ducked. He walked over to his mistress and fell to his knees. This was not unnoticed.
"Oh, hey Taylor, did you need something?" Linda asked. Taylor was quiet for a second, then opened his mouth to speak. He stopped before a sound emerged, though. He smelled food. Sniffing, he tried to trace the source. He was successful, and found three bowls of chips, topped with cheese, green onions, and pulled pork, sitting in the oven he was next to. His eyes widened and his mouth watered at the sight.
"I'm fixing some nachos," Linda giggled. "And from the look of it, they're done. Here, watch out," she said, opening the oven. Taylor jumped out of the way, afraid he had done something wrong. He wasn't hit, though, so he went back to twisting his bushy tail. Linda took out the three bowls and set them on dish towels, so that they could be held without scorching anyone. Sue poured three glasses of milk, and set them next to the bowls.
Sue took a bowl and a glass of milk, and so did Linda. Taylor, however, just sat there. "Taylor, that's your bowl and milk. Grab it and lets go watch a movie, okay?" Linda said. Taylor was shocked. He was just given food by the fur that owned him. This was unheard of in the slave 'community'. Anyone who did this was pretty much a saint!
He grabbed the bowl, and yelped. It was much too hot. He looked at how the others were handling theirs, and figured it out. He picked it up right, and grabbed the milk, before following the otters into the living room.
"Sit here," Linda patted him a spot on the couch next to her. This astounded him too. He was just being let on the couch! There had to be something wrong with his new mistress. It was very strange to be this nice to something valued as property.
He sat next to her, and looked at his bowl of chips. He sniffed them, and picked one up. It was very hot, but he didn't care. He shoved it into his mouth, and even though he burned himself, shoved another one in. And another. And another.
"Whoa, whoa, calm down. You're going to choke if you eat like that. Eat one at a time," Linda said, turning on the television. Taylor stared at the nachos and swallowed the huge bite he had. It hurt on the way down, but it got there, and that was all that mattered to him. But, for fear of punishment, he tried moderation.
"What do you want to watch?" Linda asked.
"Oh, let's watch Sex and the City!" Sue said.
"Not you, him," Linda said with a slap to Sue's hand.
Taylor was too busy trying to stop from shoving more than three chips in his mouth to notice the question directed at him. "Hmphff?" was all he said.
"What movie do you want to watch?" Linda repeated. All Taylor did was give a shy shrug and continue eating. Linda sighed, and reluctantly put on Sex and the city. Sue was definitely happy with it though.
Taylor didn't care, all he knew was that things were going good for him. And they did for the rest of the day. He actually got to watch t.v., and he got fed, and he was treated as a fur, not property. It was actually a system shock. It was absolutely out of the norm.
Late in the afternoon, after Sue had gone home, Taylor was just sitting on the couch, waiting for his new mistress to return from the bathroom. He had it made, even if it was probably all a lie. He didn't trust Linda very much, but for now, she was alright with him. Well, as alright as she could be.
She returned with something in her hand. It was a small, red composition notebook. "Hey, Taylor, I was given this when I bought you. They said it was the only thing you had. And if you don't mind me asking, why is it red? I mean, I can see the black in it. And what is is?"
Taylor snatched it from her, and held it like it was a child. Linda almost snapped at him, but decided to be nice. It was obviously important. "It's red because... because I bled on it...and it's my poetry book."
"Oh, I...I'm sorry to hear that. Well, I you don't mind, I'd love to read one of your poems," Linda said tenderly.
Taylor didn't want to. He was afraid of what she would say, or what she would do. He couldn't lose this book; it was the most important thing in his possession. Well, it was the ONLY thing in his possession, but that was beside the point. Unfortunately, how does one say no to someone who has ultimate power over him? Reluctantly, he handed her the book.
"Aww, thank you," she said. Taylor just receded into himself and played with his tail.
Linda opened the book to a random page, and after flipping through some of the worn pages, found a poem called 'Pseudo'. She started reading it aloud, with only the fireplace to light her view.
She began:
Pseudo
Stars smiled down,
Upon one and his love,
On her no frown,
From him a hug,
They hold each other,
The moon in their eyes,
He kisses his lover,
In it no lie,
But I am awoken,
By the cool wind's soft song,
No words are spoken,
I was alone all along,
Caught in confusion,
I felt my heart pound,
I cried for the illusion,
And stars smiled down.
Linda, with a tear in her eye, looked up at Taylor. He had tears streaming down his face too. They stared at each other, their tears glistening off each other. It was silent, calm, smooth, and sad, and as no words were spoken, the rain continued to fall.