A Starr is Born

After the Joker told me to get to work, I blinked once, wondering what exactly that meant. Instead of backhanding me into the cabinets like I expected, he kindly explained to me that it’s my responsibility to keep after him, do his laundry, make him dinner, and amuse him. He didn’t extend upon the latter of the list, but I remembered all too well, “I’ll keep you around for as long as you entertain me.”

To justify my predicament, I figured that I have to treat this job the same as I treat my job at Joe Schmo’. While I don’t “believe” in it, necessarily, I believe in doing the best I can at it. Of course, failing to do my job at Joe Schmo’ would result in getting written-up, not raped, mutilated, and murdered.

I was given a room all to my own. The house was a lonely place, and it had death’s energy. It seemed old, static, underused. It was, after all, a huge house inhabited by one man who was on the verge of death. I should know. He used to bring his son into Joe Schmo’ all the time to discuss the technicalities of his will. I guess it turns out someone else has inherited the place.

In my first day, the Joker was around only sporadically. In fact, I rarely saw him at all, aside from meal time, which I think was really his breakfast. He kept bizarre hours, and I had to try to keep up with him somehow. His men would come in and out, but they would try their best to avoid me. The Joker told me he made it clear to them that I was his property, and they respected that.

I kept up with my duties, for the first day. Someone had the bitch job of bringing in groceries and necessities. I cooked something that must have been satisfactory because he walked into the kitchen, and finished his food within minutes, and just left. There were even a few dresses left for me in my quarters when I went to bed that night. I cringed thinking it would be a French Maid get up, or something like that, but all the dresses were surprisingly tasteful and surprisingly flattering. It wouldn’t be beneath me to admit the man had some good taste. It made me feel slightly more human than being in my Joe Schmo’ rags.

He made it clear to me that I, of course, was not allowed to leave the premises. If I were to leave, his men would have permission to ambush me, tie me up, and leave me to him, where he promised me I would not like the outcome. I decided to trust that he wasn’t bluffing.

I survived the first night, without at hitch at Joker Manor. Now, it’s the second day, and it’s midnight. This appears to be a prime time to get ready to wreak havoc, so I figure I must be as safe as I can ever be. At this point, I’ve been a good girl. Hoping he has perhaps let his guard down, if only a little, I decide to push my luck. I have free liberty to the entire house, which isn’t much considering there’s no computer and all of the phones have been ripped out, but that’s not what I’m looking for. What I’m looking for is my blazer. The forest green one, which contrasted perfectly with long auburn tresses. I’m not looking to make any fashion statement. I’m looking for my cellphone.

I go down the stairs, innocently enough, and have to pass by the front door. I see some type of clown goon standing on guard. He peeks in through the window to watch what I’m doing. I go to the kitchen, innocently enough, to drink some water. I make eye-contact with him, very deliberately, while sipping my water. I wave very seductively, and he turns his head immediately, apparently afraid he might have violated one of the boss’s “rules.” Good.

I bolt to the basement. I go down the creaky stairs, very cautiously. If anyone asks, I’m looking for something to clean. The coast is clear, as far as I’m concerned. It’s desolate. Keeping look out on me, I’m hoping, is one of the Joker’s lower priorities. I set my sights on the door to the garage. I walk briskly though the Master of the House shouldn’t be back for hours.

The door opens and parked inside the garage is the very van I saw in the parking lot that fateful night. I check behind myself once more and go.

I go to open the car door, and it actually opens, and there it is sprawled across the back seat. I know the man’s thorough, but I’m hoping that maybe checking my pockets escaped his mind when he was molesting my unconscious body.

I climb into the back seat and look through the pockets, frantically. My heart is racing. I feel the familiar bulge, and I find exactly what I’m looking for.

My cellphone.

The battery is almost dead. I have hundreds of missed calls. I hope it has the juice for one last call. Shit. Should I call my mother, should I call the police? Who should I call?

I flip it open. I press 9-1-1. It rings, but just as it rings, I find myself in a chokehold, unable to breath.

“I’d drop the phone if I were you,” it was the all too familiar voice.

I hear the voice on the other line. He growls into my ear, “drop it!”

I drop the phone, and he grabs it and throws it against the opposite wall of the garage. It shatters.

He brings his attention back to me, “What do you think you were doing?”

I can’t answer. I can barely breath. He lets go, slightly. I whimper, “I’m sorry.”

He laughs, and I can feel his spit spray on the back of my neck.

“That wasn’t an answer!” He climbs onto the backseat, behind me, pushing me more into the car, his body completely over taking mine easily.

“That was a very stupid thing to do, Auburn. You could have had me caught, ya know.” He presses a little hard, “You could have had the cops track me so easily here, you know that?” I know I have to answer him, or I’ll suffer, but I can’t.

“You know the rules, answer me,” he growls, his voice full of fury.

He applies even more pressure, as if to mock me, knowing now there isn’t any possible way I could answer him.

Just when I think he’s about to destroy me, he releases the grip, ever so slightly, to allow me to breath,

“Of course you knew what you were doing, Auburn,” he says, almost gently. “You knew exactly what you were doing, and here I thought you were going to be easy to break in, but you know what I realized, Auburn?”

Does he want me to answer him?

“I haven’t had time to play with my new toy,” he says, his voice a bit more mirthful, which doesn’t make it any less terrifying.

He takes a fistful of my hair from the back of my head and pushes my head down over the arm he has around my neck. I submit to his touch because I have very little choice. I know no self-defense, but I have a feeling there’s no adequate training one can have for being in this predicament.

He senses my calm, so lets up just a little more, but he still has his one arm around my neck, and the other one holding my hair, exposing my neck to his warm breath.

He toys with my head as he says, “You know, there are so many wonderful places to play with. Your pussy can wait.”

I can feel him coming closer, and I try my best not to squirm, even though the last place I’d want him to touch is my neck. My heart is pounding, thinking he’s going to take out a knife and slice right into it, but instead, he places his nose on the base of my neck, right on my spine. I try to remain silent at his touch because I know he wants to hear me scream. He traces his nose all the way up the back of my neck, until he reaches the place where my hair starts. My hands grip at the car seat, trying to find somewhere to release my tension.

He lifts his head, and I can feel him take note of the way I’m about to pull the car seat apart.

“Oh, you’re excited.”

But I’m not, I swear to myself. Well, I am, but not like that. I’m not used to being so vulnerable and having to submit so easily to someone else. I always felt stronger than that.

He contemplates for some time, keeping me in my place, and then, he brings his tongue to the base of my neck. I let out an involuntary gasp. My whole body shivers, as he traces his tongue all the way up my neck. I can’t help but squirm uncontrollably now, trying to get away from his touch. The cold garage doesn’t help in cooling the places his tongue just traced.

In response to my squirming, he puts his whole body weight on top of me, pushing me into the car seat, and now he’s savagely attacking the back of my neck with his tongue and lips, all the while laughing as I squirm uncontrollably.

He releases me and gets up from the car seat, and I lie on the backseat, panting heavily. I can feel him standing over me, his smile penetrating my soul at my most vulnerable.

“You can go to bed now,” he says. I hesitantly push myself up from the backseat and walk out of the car, my whole body shaky. He watches me as I steady myself and turn to leave.

As I turn to go, he grabs me by my hair, again, and turns me to face him. I realize just in time he’s about to force his lips onto mine, and I bury my face into his jacket as to avoid his lethal kiss. He allows my head to rest in his jacket as he strokes my hair.

“It’ll only be a matter of days before you let me in. Every lonely pet seeks the affection of their master.”

He pushes me away from his body. He takes a good look at me in my disheveled state. I’m trying my hardest not to cry.

“Go,” he tells me, and I run up the stairs before he has the chance to change his mind.