The weather was insanely perfect, Kat thought, following her master. Warm and very bright, the trees were flowering and the park was filled with picnickers and pet walkers and merrymakers and businessmen on their Blackberries trying to combine lunch, work and leisure. Kat thought it was a pity that the path they were taking was simply a means to an end: a shortcut to a business meeting and not a pleasant place for them to spend an afternoon. Kat was content to stroll quietly behind her master, but she thought she would have been a little more content if their plans were to pinic beneath the gently swaying dogwood trees. She mentally prepared a four-course outdoor meal and timidly thought of ways to convince her master agree to such an excursion. She thought that the promise of lemon-curd cupcakes and deviled eggs might be quite persuasive.
Kat was so distracted by her culinary plans, as well as the softly floating dogwood petals that she failed to notice the harried blackberry-sandwich-businessman who was barreling her way, head down and thumbs in motion. With a muffled thud, the businessman crashed into Kat, which sent both Kat and the businessman’s Blackberry reeling.
“Watch where you’re going!” The man snarled, looking about himself for his PDA. “If you broke my Blackberry….”
Kat, shaken and furious, shrilled back, “I didn’t break anything, asshole!!! You watch where you’re going!”
Nearly instantly, her upper arm was seized by a powerful and very intent hand. Walking quickly, with Kat in tow, her master marched over to the offended businessman, who was brushing grass off the battered but not broken equipment.
The businessman glared at Kat. “You’re lucky there’s no damage.”
Kat’s arm was squeezed a bit harshly, so she hurriedly blurted. “I’m sorry.” The squeezing hadn’t stopped, rather it had increased, and Kat knew the apology had been insufficient. She quickly continued. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and- and I was very rude. I’m sorry, Sir.”
The businessman looked tired. “Fine” he sighed. He nodded at the girl and then at her master and hurried away.
Dropping her arm, Kat’s master also began to walk away, Kat followed closely and a little to the left, not daring to rub at the sore spot on her arm. They walked silently for about half a block before Kat’s master turned to her. “You know I’m going to have to punish you for that, don’t you?’
Kat’s mouth was dry and she found it very difficult to reply but he was fuming and her failure to answer would only make him angrier. She nodded, and said softly, “Yes, Sir.” But her anger had not totally dissipated. “But, Sir, it wasn’t my fault.”
He glared at her. “Did you have to curse at him and make a spectacle in the middle of a public park?”
“No, Sir.”
He nodded and Kat followed her master out of the park. A few blocks later they arrived at their destination, The Hesston Building, and Kat had noted that the sky had started to cloud over. Her master had a one a clock appointment on the eighty-third floor and when they got on the elevator, Kat pressed the button and stood back quietly. She couldn’t look at herself on the mirrored paneling; even looking at her master’s Italian leather shoes was difficult. She settled her eyes in the corner of the elevator and left them there for the duration of the ride. The elevator ride was dreadfully quite. While Kat’s master was never given to a large amount (or any amount) of small talk, Kat knew that his silence now meant that he was angry with her, and that silence was painful.
When they stepped out of the elevator, Mr. Hesston was standing there waiting. “Ah. Johnson. You’re about thirty seconds late.” He smiled. “With your usual punctuality, that was nearly enough to worry me.” He smiled again and he reached out his hand. “Are you ready to sign the papers?”
Reaching out and shaking Mr. Hesston’s hand firmly, Mr. Johnson nodded and smiled. “Absolutely.”
Mr. Hesston turned to Kat. “And how are you today?” he asked cordially.
“Fine, Sir. How are you?” Kat found it excruciating to lift her gaze from the floor. “Someone seems a bit less loquacious than usual.” Mr. Hesston looked questioningly at Mr. Johnson.
Kat’s master looked at her absently. “She has a beating coming.”
Kat was blushing and highly mortified by the tears she was fighting.
Mr. Hennsen nodded to Johnson understandingly. “Well, we’ll try not to keep her waiting longingly.”
“Wait in the lobby, please.” Without another word, he followed Mr. Hesston into a conference room and left Kat standing alone, his sturdy footfalls growing fainter.
She found a secluded chair by a potted plant that was away from the elevators, windows, and the smirking receptionist. Kat found herself with nothing to do but think and she was thinking only of her upcoming punishment. The wait was horrible, but Kat dreaded most what would come afterwards. Her only distractions were those self-satisfied smirks from the receptionist and those only heightened her sense of humiliation.
When her master came out of the conference room forty-five minutes later, he was grinning; he was shaking hands with Mr. Hesston again and both of them seemed happy. Saying goodbye to Mr. Hesston, Kat’s master gestured for her to come, and she did, quickly. They walked silently again, this time to the parking garage.
The ride home was long. They were silent until they reached the interstate and it was Kat who tried to break the silence, her voice shaking slightly. “Did you get the contract, Sir?”
Kat could see his hands tighten slightly on the steering wheel and he looked at Kat sternly. “Yes, I did. Everything is signed.”
Kat could tell that he wanted her to be quiet, but the silence seemed even more oppressive than his irritation. “That’s good, Sir. You’ve been working hard on that project.”
His eyes flicked away from the road and settled on her and she flushed. He was irritated; his calm voice had a slight edge that let Kat know she was pressing at his patience. “Are you trying to talk your way out of a whipping?”
Kat’s heartbeat skipped and she lowered her head. She should have known better than to talk. She was in disgrace and he was angry with her. He didn’t want to hear her voice, but he had asked her a question and she had to answer it. “No, Sir,” she said quietly, “I-I know I deserve what I have coming.”
She felt her master relax, although his anger was still present.. They spent the rest of the drive home in silence, Kat fighting tears.
Once at home, inside the entrance way, Kat’s master slipped off his suit jacket and handed it to Kat, who wordlessly hung it in the hall closet. It wouldn’t be much longer now, she knew, and the tears were beginning to flow now, though Kat remained silent. He took his wallet out of his back pocket and put it, along with his keys, on the marble-topped hallway table. She turned back to face him and he lowered his heavy hand onto her trembling shoulder.
“Now, go get the strap.”
Kat nodded, her obedience forcing her to the hook where the strap hung, in her master’s closet. She felt its weight in her hand and desperately wanted to throw it away from her, run away and hide. She knew from experience that it would be much worse if she did. So, strap in hand, tears flowing already, she made her way back down the hallway as slowly as she dared.
He was waiting in the living room, in the usual location. He stood by the oversized green chair, looking calm but powerful, his work shirt rolled back above his elbows. Kat was crying fully now, ashamed of her cowardace, and handed her master the thick strap.
Slowly, he folded the strap over, its ends firmly clenched in his right hand. “Turn around.”
Kat lost her will to be obedient, lost her shame and her guilt. She felt nothing but fear of pain and desperation. “Oh, please,” she sobbed, “please.”
Her master’s face and tone remained calm and stoic. Kat knew that mercy was neither what she needed nor what she would receive. “Turn around,” he repeated, and Kat had no choice but to obey.
She turned slowly, sobbing, and she felt her master’s hand firmly bend her over the arm of the chair. Her face was pressed uncomfortably against the green embroidered upholstery, her toes barely touching the ground. Her master’s hand pressed down more firmly on her back and hearing the strap cut through the air, she felt its first angry blow against her skin.
She rebelled, her cries angry and her body tried to rear up, meeting only the firm resistance of her master’s left hand. Before she had time to calm herself, the strap struck again and again and Kat began bawling loudly, begging him to stop. Still the strap came down on Kat’s bruised and welted flesh, and it wasn’t until Kat had stopped begging her master to stop, stopped saying that she was sorry, and could only lie still and sob brokenly that her punishment was complete.
Kat’s master laid the strap down and kept his hand firmly on Kat’s back, allowing her to sob wildly for a minute more. When he released her, she rose slowly, and turned to face him, still crying. She could not bear to look at him, and when he raised her chin and wiped her face, she clutched his hand and hid herself behind it, sobbing into his palm. He placed his other hand on her forehead, her hair wet with sweat and tears.
He let her cry into his hand for a few minutes, and when she had calmed down slightly, he gently removed his hand from her grasp. He handed her the strap. “You may hang it back up now.”
“Yes, Master,” she whispered, walking back to his room, his closet. She returned to the living room.
Her master was calmly sitting on the sofa, reading that morning’s newspaper. “I’d like to have Chinese for dinner. I’ll have my usual, and you may have whatever you’d like best.” He lowered his newspaper and studied Kat for a moment. “After you’ve ordered, you may wait in the kitchen until it comes.” With a rustle, he was hidden from view.
“Yes, Sir.” Kat moved slowly into the kitchen, the pain on her bottom intensified by the movement. Using the beige wall phone from the kitchen, she placed the delivery order. General Tsao’s Chicken for her master as always, Lo Mien noodles for herself. Kat walked around the kitchen for a few moments, her arms folded across her stomach. Soon, she felt her guilt come back, and as she sat down at the green speckled Formica table, the pain from sitting felt deserved.
Her thoughts turned against her and she began to cry again as they berated her. “I was rude to a complete stranger, I cursed loudly in public, I caused a scene, I embarrassed my master.” She felt like a failure as a slave, a nuisance and a bother to her master. He deserved better, much better than her. She was an untrainable embarrassment. He should send her away.
Kat accepted the Chinese delivery with a face streaked with tears, but she tipped well as always, so the delivery boy discreetly paid no attention. Quietly, Kat carried the traditional white boxes into the living room and set her master’s food in from of him on a TV tray.
He was no longer reading the paper; he was watching television and Kat waited a few seconds for a lag in the football action to ask what he would like to drink. Kat then brought him his iced tea and chopsticks and then made herself a plate. She sat next to her master on the couch as usual.
It was not until he had finished most of his General’s Chicken that he noticed that Kat had eaten nothing.
“Is something wrong with your food?”
Kat looked up at her master quickly, her eyes still red and teary. “No, Sir.”
“Then why are you not eating?”
“I’m not hungry, Sir.”
Her master turned to face her more directly. “Are you pouting?” he asked sternly.
Fresh tears began to flow from Kat’s eyes as she looked at him, pained. “No, Sir. I’m just…I’m just sorry.” She began to sob again, and silently her master turned off the television. He reached his left arm around her shoulders and let her lie against his chest. She turned her head and cried against him.
He held her until she fell asleep, content to be in his arms, beaten and forgiven. He knew she would be sore in the morning, and very well-behaved.
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