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She heard him stand.
The water changed settings again, back the way it had been before he'd entered. The light rain rinsed away his mess, warmed her.
The door opened.
"I'll see you at lunch," he said.
It closed.
She curled to one side, and lay there long after he had gone. She didn't weep. She was through crying; she had sworn.
She tried to forget what had happened.
Impossible.
She tried to at least stop it from looping through her mind.
Nothing. She could still feel his gaze, still feel his semen covering her body, still-
She lurched to the drain, her stomach heaving. The vomit disappeared as fast as everything else had.
Strangely, after she was done retching, she felt better. Not okay, but better. She was able to stand, able to wash- and wash, and wash. She was sudsing herself for the fifth time when she realized she didn't know what the hour was- couldn't even guess how long she'd been in there, or when she'd started.
She scrambled out, and into a dress from the wardrobe. She didn't check the clock, knowing that if she did, she'd see she was late. She dashed down the stairs to the hall outside the dining room.
The door was closed, and she paused for a moment to catch her breath before going in. Paused to recover her courage.
Only for a moment.
She pushed the door open and walked in, gaze straight ahead. She saw Claude out of the corner of her eye, reading something, and a sharp pang went through her.
She ignored it and reached her seat without incident. Everything that had happened ran through her brain again, rekindling her queasiness, but that, too, passed.
The robots served the meal.
She ate without enthusiasm; ate because she knew she could be forced into the corner again.
How? she thought. How can he force me to do that?
Not just the corner. in the bathroom. And before, too.
The question rose in her throat and she forced it down. No doubt he'd punish her if she spoke up.
But she needed to know.
She found herself glancing at him, then back at her food, again and again. Each time she tried to find the nerve to say something- and kept failing.
Claude was listening in on this dilemma with considerable amusement. If she did manage to talk, he would shock her- he was somewhat dismayed he'd been so lax thus far.
He waited for her curiosity to get the better of her.
He waited, and kept waiting.
The girl was too afraid.
Her peeks at him were becoming an annoyance.
"What is it, Renee?" he finally snapped.
She froze and stared at her plate. Mumbled something.
"Speak up," he said.
She took a deep breath.
"I have a question, sir."
He rolled his eyes. "Yes?"
Another noisy inhalation.
"H-how did you make me do ... do those things, sir?"
He didn't bother to ask her what "things" she meant. "What if I told you I wasn't forcing you to do anything?"
She stared at him. Inside, she thought, I'm not stupid. I wasn't in control.
The silence stretched and then he broke it.
"You really want to know?" he asked.
Renee nodded.
"Hmm." He poked at his food. "What would you be willing to do for it?"
She shivered as a chill rolled through her.
What would she do?
I have to know, she thought. I can't fight if I don't even know how he does it.
But-
What more can he do? Moreover, anything he might do, he'll probably do eventually anyways.
That's later.
And later I might not have this chance.
I need this info.
She closed her eyes.
"Anything," she said. "I'll do anything, sir."
A slow smile crept onto Claude's face. "Then come here."
Renee didn't hesitate. She left her chair and walked to him only slightly more slowly than her usual pace.
He pushed his food away.
He examined the girl as she stood before him. The slight curves of her hips, her small hands clasped in front, the hair that was still damp spilling over one shoulder. She stared at the floor, her whole body taut.
"First," Claude said. "First, I'll set up some ground rules.
"No fighting me.
"The only words I'll hear out of your mouth will be demands for more. I don't want any more protests.
"Just those two. Understand?"
She bit a lip, then-
"Yes, sir."
"Good." He unzipped his pants. "Get onto your knees. You're going to try this again."
Renee dropped. She let him guide her head to his lap, when his penis bumped her lips, she opened her jaws.
It slid across her tongue roughly, saltily. She quelled the urge to vomit again, and focused instead on the job: just do what he wanted. Do what he said, and get the information. She had done this before, she could handle it.
She hoped.
Claude told her what to do.
Renee reached with one hand and hesitantly grasped the shaft of his penis. He grunted at the touch and drove forward, filling her mouth.
She panicked and unthinkingly began to jerk back, but he was already withdrawing. She glanced up and saw he was watching her, still with that same, harsh smile on his face.
His hands tightened their hold in her hair and yanked her away. He stood, dragging her up with him, and propelled her to the table.
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