On Dangerous Borders

After I showered and was made to dress in skimpy pink lingerie that left little to the imagination, my hand shook when I reached for the bathroom door. It creaked open as if groaning at the thought of what might await me on the other side. Maybe Esita’s rapid personality change was just some part of a game she was playing. On shaky legs, I stepped out into the short hallway just outside the bathroom. I hadn't seen the rest of the house, but it seemed small and simple, just as the last house had been. Kitchen and living room to one side, bedroom and bathroom to the other side. I glanced directly across from the bathroom into a darkened room, which appeared to be the bedroom. Barefoot, I slowly moved up the hall, with the living room to my left and the kitchen straight ahead. I was unsure of Esita’s location within the house. I strained to listen for any sounds around me. Just when I was beginning to wonder if I was in the house alone, Esita stepped out of the living room and appeared to me as I'd never seen her before. All she wore was her bra and panties. Her jet-black hair hung straight down her back. If it weren't for the situation at hand, I would have been totally turned on. Esita was breathtakingly beautiful. “Turn around and walk down the hall,” she commanded. For a split second, I wondered if I should stay put and question her, or if I should just do as I was told. Deciding I was best off doing as I was told, I turned and retraced my footsteps. “To the left,” she said sternly. I stepped into the darkened room that was across from the bathroom. Esita's hand roughly pushed me further into the room, and then she flipped on the light behind me. The room was small and sparsely furnished with just a double bed, a nightstand, and a dresser. The worn carpet beneath me felt rough on my feet. She then pushed me onto the bed and had her way with me for the rest of the night as darkness descended in the sky and in my heart. Sometimes she was rough and sometimes she wasn't, but I refused to let my body give in to anything that might have otherwise been very pleasurable. Without being offered any food or drink, Esita gave me a toothbrush and told me to brush my teeth and use the bathroom before bed. I did this and then stepped out of the bathroom. Reminding me that I had absolutely no place to go and that I would accomplish absolutely nothing but getting my ass beat, she warned me to stay put while she did her own thing in the bathroom. As soon as she shut the door, I quickly threaded my way through the house, taking notice of things, including where any landlines might be located, but I didn't see any such thing. My laptop was nowhere to be seen, and neither were any other types of computers. I looked longingly at the front door just a few yards ahead of me. Knowing how pointless it would be to run out the door stark naked, and fully believing that it would earn me quite an assault, I simply returned to the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. Seconds later, Esita entered the room and ordered me under the covers on the far side of the bed, farthest from the door. “You are to remain quiet for the rest of the night,” she told me. “I am going to bed now and so are you. You will not leave this bed or this room under any circumstances until I awake in the morning.” “But what if I have to pee?” I asked. “Hold it in!” she said coldly. “Can I just ask you—” “Shut up!” I wanted to cuss her out, grab some clothes, and storm out the door, but I didn't have the guts to do so. Even if I could escape, where would I go and how would I get home? The police couldn't help me since Esita was the police, but even if she wasn't, I knew I couldn't trust the police to help me. My only hope was to not only escape the house but escape the country, and I honestly didn't see how in the world I was going to accomplish that. I sighed in defeat as my eyes adjusted to the darkness around me. Esita had shut the bedroom door, so I was unable to see into the hallway. I turned my head a few inches to the right. Only a very faint, soft glow of light seeped through the curtains in the room’s only window. Daylight came, and the sound of movement woke me up. Esita was busily moving about the room. As the memories of the previous night seeped into my mind, I wondered which was the worse situation: being back at the jail or being with Esita. Well, Esita's bed was a lot more comfortable than the jailhouse bed had been, and at least now I only had to deal with her. “Get up,” ordered Esita. With great reluctance, I pulled myself upright, even though I wished I could go back to sleep and stay there forever. “Use the bathroom, get dressed, and go into the kitchen.” I did as I was told and was glad that, rather than lingerie, I was given a simple blue cotton dress that hung just below my knees. I was a bit surprised that I wasn't made to put pants on and even a hijab, but then I realized that if Esita had wanted me as her sex slave, then she wouldn't want to wrap the goods up too much. I stumbled out into the kitchen, wondering what would happen to me if I were suddenly scared and perhaps several sizes larger. The kitchen smelled of grease and cholesterol as I stepped into it. It was small and tidy but looked dingy and old. “Smells good,” I said with false cheer, figuring that I ought to play nicey-nicey and get on Esita's good side. “Do not talk unless you are spoken to,” Esita said. I was dismayed that I didn't at least have the freedom to speak because then I might be able to find out more about just what was going on, what I was up against, and what the future may hold for me. Maybe if I adhered to her rules, however, and was an obedient so-called slave for a while, she would trust me a little more and give me more freedom. She pulled the pan off the stove and then slid some food out and onto a couple of plates. I wasn't sure what I was about to eat, but it smelled like bacon and eggs to me, with maybe some toast on the side. Esita set the plates down on the table, and I suddenly realized just how famished I was. I didn't care what it was or how awful it tasted. I was too hungry to care. The hard-boiled egg was a bit bland, and the bacon wasn’t really bacon. I wasn’t sure what it really was, but I ate it anyway, including the fresh fruit that was put out before me. “Do you always eat like this?” Esita asked when she saw how hungrily I ate. I nodded and said, “When I haven't eaten in so long.” I finished my food and sat back to wait for her to finish hers. She never offered me seconds, and I wondered if that was to keep me from gaining weight. “You look beautiful today,” I dared say. She clanked her fork down so hard on her plate that I thought it would shatter. Her dark brown eyes appeared to turn to a frightening shade of ebony black. “What did I tell you?” Afraid to even utter an apology, I simply put my head down and gazed at my empty plate. A moment later, I took a few sips of my tea. My mind ran off in a million different directions. Just what was it that she had planned for me? Did she really expect to keep me a prisoner in her home for the rest of our lives? But what about when I got older? What if she got sick of me? What if she got sick and died? When Esita finished eating, she rose from the table and told me to clean up. She then headed into the living room, and a moment later, I could hear a TV show playing, but I couldn't understand any of it because it was in Urdu. I got up from my chair and carried the plates to the sink. I wasn't the least bit surprised to find that there wasn't a dishwasher and that I would have to wash the dishes by hand. I was just finishing up washing them and placing them into the strainer that sat by the sink when Esita re-entered the room. She inspected the plates and silverware, obviously checking to see how well I had cleaned them. Esita then turned to face me, and I wondered what was coming next. She ushered me ahead of her and into the living room. The room was well-lit due to the sunlight streaming through the flimsy curtains, and there were many plants scattered about the room. The room looked more shabby than comfortable and cozy, with its tattered carpet, worn sofa, and peeling paint on the walls. I looked longingly at the door and then turned to find Esita staring at me intently. “Don’t even think about it,” she warned. “You are mine. Take off your clothes.” Once again, I wondered if I should protest and not give in so easily to her, and once again, I considered how much bigger she was than me and how I had no place to run. With deep regret, I peeled off my clothes, anger slowly replacing my desperation.