Lost

Chapter 9

It took several more days, but the fuzziness again melted away and his thoughts settled back into some semblance of order. He was no longer Duncan MacLeod and his world had turned upside down. He understood the identity implanted in his head...breaking down and then building up. Why still remained the major question. Andre had used his immortality against him while torturing him...don’t think about that...but nothing since then has had anything to do with it. Duncan ran through his memory and came up empty. There was nothing about the name or this estate or any past immortals that seemed to trigger any reason for this to be happening. Methos! God, Methos, where are you? Please help me!

He looked around the sumptuously appointed room...Andre’s room. He closed his eyes in misery. He couldn’t even contemplate escaping this hell without incapacitating himself. You bastard...Why? An intense hatred welled up so strongly inside of him he couldn’t breathe for a moment. The surge passed with a muffled choke and he pulled in a strangled breath. He had never wanted to kill anyone so badly in his life. But, he couldn’t fight. Fear curled in his belly as he thought back to the room...not that room...but the one with the bed. It was in the room with the bed where they’d made sure he couldn’t fight. He knew there were injections and bright lights. He recalled searing pain and a voice droning something over and over. They’d made him think he was a woman. But not just a woman, he was also weak and vulnerable, completely defenseless against Andre...and completely dependent on him. She couldn’t fight, she belonged to Andre... needed to please him...she desired him. Although vague, the thoughts made her want...no, need to be filled...ease the empty ache inside of her. Only Andre could do it, only Andre could bring such pleasure when he filled her. She needed it... Duncan turned his face into the pillow and moaned, feeling the intense ache and need to feel a cock sliding inside of him replacing the fear...he had to have it. He grabbed the sheet in his fists, grinding them into his forehead as he desperately struggled against the desire raging through him. Dear God, it’s like fighting an addiction...

He heard a rustle behind him knowing it was Louisa readying his clothes for the day. Not a bath, please...not a bath. The thought of willingly sliding into a tank of water made him tremble and again that terrible fear was enough to stop the heat flooding through him. He heard Louisa open the shower door but felt only marginally better since he was already exhausted from his internal struggle. Bath or shower, at some point there would be water flowing over his face and he hated that.

“Come along, mon cher, let’s get you up and ready.” Louisa pushed aside the uneaten breakfast tray and gently pulled the edge of the covers out of the fisted hands. Sarah was getting better, but it would remain a struggle for some time, yet. Louisa pulled back the covers and was only slightly surprised at the dried blood staining the nightgown and sheets. Her employer was certainly a rough one, but her charge never seemed worse for the wear come morning...well, not physically, at least. Louisa quickly took care of the first part of their daily ritual.

After a few moments Duncan stood up by the bed and swayed, his anal sphincter clenching spasmodically from the water filling his rectum. His knees started to buckle but Louisa was ready and held him firmly with an arm around his waist and another under his arm. She led him gently to the dressing room and then bent to gather the edge of the nightgown, taking care to lift the gown slowly.

Duncan winced slightly despite how gently Louisa peeled the gown away from where the blood had dried to his skin. A sense of loss rolled through him as Louisa removed the bindings that held him. He wore the bindings all day and night except for when he bathed. That was another part of bathing he hated...giving up the only thing that made him feel less vulnerable. He felt safer when he was bound, as though that last vital part of him was protected. Louisa finished with the bindings and gently guided him towards the toilet. I should be doing this myself. I need to get clean. He moved away slightly, ignoring the surprised look on his keeper’s face.

“Well, you are better today! Maybe we can go out for awhile if you’re up to it, hmm?”
Louisa left Sarah to take care of herself and readied the shower. After a bit Louisa felt Sarah move next to her but wasn’t surprised to see her hesitation. Sarah’s initiative seemed to have evaporated in the face of one of her greatest fears…water. With a hand at her shoulder, Louisa gave a small push. “It’s alright, mon petite, I’ll help you.” Sarah trembled slightly but again surprised Louisa by stepping into the shower without a struggle. Thank goodness! Louisa gave a silent sigh of relief and handed Sarah a washcloth, watching to make sure she didn’t need any further help. She knew, though, that it would still be a bit difficult.

Duncan let the water stream down his side, tentatively moving in. He couldn’t duck his head into the water just yet. He needed to work up to that. He ran the soapy washcloth over the unfamiliar contours of his body, surprised again at the presence of breasts and the lack of hair. The presence of the tattoo marking his ownership caught his eye. He skimmed it lightly with a trembling hand and forced his eyes away. Instead he found himself mesmerized at the sight of the reddish/brown suds swirling down the drain as the blood washed away. The sound of that name brought his attention back to his task. He looked up apologetically at the gentle face of his companion on the other side of the glass door. The slender transgender male was his only friend in this place. He didn’t want to annoy her so he quickly finished washing his body. With that resolve he took a deep breath and moved his head into the stream of water. Despite his attempt to prepare himself he still nearly jerked back out but finally forced himself to get all of his hair wet although he kept his head bowed, not quite ready to let the water hit his face directly. Stepping back he grabbed the bottle of shampoo, his determination to get this part over with making his movements jerky and uncoordinated.

He was practically gasping with effort by the time he finished rinsing the conditioner out. Rubbing the water out of his eyes he was dismayed to find Louisa holding the face wash out to him. God, why is being a female so damned difficult? Why can’t simple soap and water be enough? He remembered the various bottles of rinses and washes that Tessa had filling the bathroom. He was always slightly exasperated at the process she went through to take care of herself although he did appreciate the final product. He just never thought he’d have to go through it himself. He was grateful she would never know what he was now.

The ordeal finally over, Duncan stepped out of the stall that was big enough for four people blindly taking the towel that was handed to him. Glancing around at the huge bathroom, he was surprised that Louisa wasn’t in the room. She’d obviously decided he was well enough to be left alone. Wrapping the large soft towel high enough to cover his breasts, he took another for his long hair. Leaning over sideways he began to rub the long tresses dry because he adamantly refused to wrap his hair in a toweled turban. Stepping back into the dressing room, he found Louisa lining up makeup and applicators, styling tools and hair products...or what he privately called the “implements of destruction”.

“Cherie, I’ve talked to Monsieur Lacasse and he said I could style your hair a bit, yes? I think you’ll be so pretty with a bit more curl...not everything one length...but it will still be long.” Louisa brought out a plastic cape and fastened it around Duncan’s neck. She combed out the long hair, now reaching down passed Duncan’s shoulder blades and kept up a running commentary. “His only requirement is that it stay soft and feminine. That’ll be easy with your gorgeous hair, mon cher, this texture is just perfect...”

Duncan watched without saying a word. He had no say in what he wore or how he wore it. Watching as she cut long layers into his hair, he listened peripherally while she talked about her brother (one of the guards) and how that connection had gotten her this job. She was happy working for Monsieur Lacasse even if he was a bit frightening at times... May you never learn just how frightening he can be..., Duncan thought darkly. Fear kept him in a constant state of turmoil. Although his days settled into a monotonous routine, they were punctuated by terrifying trips to the basement. And after every trip began the struggle to find himself again. One day, he feared, there won’t be anything left of him to find.

Louisa made some final snips at the hair around his face and proceeded to place rollers into the dark hair. Done with that part, she then inspected the dark eyebrows, plucking a few stray hairs to keep the beautifully arched brows in perfect shape. She knew that if allowed to grow in thickly again (like the horrible condition they were in when she first arrived) they would again give the dark face a heavy, brooding countenance that she simply didn’t care for. It was just so...masculine. And besides, her charge brooded far too much as it was.

Duncan never knew when he would undergo one of Louisa’s full treatments. Well, this one wasn’t too bad...at least he wasn’t getting a facial or full body whatever it was she called it. Those “spa” days, as Louisa put it were incredibly boring although Louisa seemed to regard them as a special treat. All Duncan really wanted was a chance to go riding, but at this rate that probably wasn’t going to happen. Hopefully tomorrow...

Duncan closed his eyes as the heat from the hairdryer blew quietly over his face. The gentle touches at his hands and feet let him know that Louisa was touching up his nails. What was the grand occasion this time? It was probably nothing...just another one of Andre’s whims about the appearance of his whore. Andre was a vain man...that was obvious as soon as Duncan met him at the dinner that night. So why didn’t he have a trophy wife or girlfriend? Someone he could parade around and show off in public...someone other than a freak like him? A freak that he kept locked up on his estate under guard, lock and key? And worse, subjecting him to the torture and mental control? Duncan shuddered at the thought of the basement rooms. He had to get away...he had to...to fight...

Louisa looked up at the shudder that ran through her charge. Not again... She quickly grabbed a towel and held it in front of Sarah’s mouth, hoping to catch any vomit. With her other hand she turned off the hair dryer and pulled it away knowing she needed to cool Sarah down.

Damnit! Duncan tried desperately to control his stomach as the bile rose at the back of his mouth, the shooting pains already carving streaks across his skull. So fucking tired of vomiting... He hated losing what little control he had. I’m not supposed to be like this! He felt a cool towel dabbing at his forehead and a soothing hand rubbing his back. Breathing deeply, he tried to still his trembling. He shouldn’t let his thoughts run off like that...shouldn’t think about that... Feeling completely emasculated, he felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes and refused to think about what caused them but he had no control over the despondency that flooded through him.

Louisa helped Sarah to the bathroom so she could wash her face and rinse out her mouth. It hadn’t been too bad this time...at least she wasn’t curled up on the floor in her own body fluids and tears. Memories of blood-stained sheets and clothes flitted through her mind. She wanted to tell someone...anyone...but who would believe her? There were never any marks on her charge...just this mental and emotional weakness. But Louisa wanted desperately to help, so she helped in the only way she could...by providing her friendship and care in whatever manner she was able. Someday, she vowed, she’d find a way to do more...

Louisa shook herself and got back to business. Her charge could definitely use some time out in the sun and she had to do something to keep Sarah from sinking down into one of those funks. “Why don’t we take a walk through the garden after lunch? There are some lovely blooms out. I’m sure we could pick some...how would that be?”

Duncan shook himself, only vaguely aware that he’d been asked a question. “Yes, that’s fine,” he answered, hoping it was appropriate. A deep depression seemed to take hold of him again. He had to shake himself out of it. He needed to think...not sink into a well of emotion. He took a deep breath and easily slid into a light meditation as Louisa finished whatever it was she was doing. He had to find a way out, but most of all he had to keep his head.

Finally done, Duncan gave only a cursory glance in the mirror. He saw his hair brushed out into soft curls that framed his face, held up on one side with a jeweled comb. The waves and curls fell around his shoulders in a dark cloud contrasting sharply against the soft cream sweater that crossed in between his breasts. He wore a slightly flared floral skirt with cream, rose and peach colored roses. Pearls and cream leather pumps completed his outfit. But the sight was so alien it was as though he was looking at a picture that didn’t make sense...and one that didn’t matter. They went downstairs for lunch.

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Andre stuffed the papers into his briefcase. He was anxious to get back to his estate to see his little pet. He was ecstatic with the way his plans were progressing and every moment brought him intense satisfaction. So many years ahead of them…and still there was so much more to be done and then he would have everything he’d ever dreamed of... His thoughts were interrupted by a quiet knock. Irritated, he motioned the man forward.

“Well…what is it?”

“Pierson knows, Sir. He grabbed one of the tails and told him to tell you that he wants Duncan MacLeod and that he’ll kill anyone else who follows him.” The man cleared his throat quietly and hoped his employer didn’t believe in shooting the messenger. Andre said nothing for a moment, but it was obvious he was very angry.

“I won’t tolerate sloppy work. Have the men that were following him removed.” That order came as no surprise to the man who knew that by morning there’d be two more bags of trash going to the incinerator. “Put a long distance team on Pierson, same orders.”

No expression crossed the man’s face...long-distance surveillance and sniper locations were a bit more difficult to work, but not impossible. “Yes, Sir.” No other response was needed, and the man felt a wave of relief as his employer waved him out.

Andre stared blindly at the wood paneling on the wall. How had Pierson determined that MacLeod was alive? He needed to look more closely at the man. Pierson obviously had to meet an unfortunate accident as well. It shouldn’t be a problem, and the information that Pierson was no longer alive could be used later should his pet need some more training. Arrogance and faith in his planning led him to believe it impossible to trace what had happened to Duncan MacLeod. There weren’t any leads for Pierson to follow...nothing to connect MacLeod to him or his companies. But it bothered him that Pierson believed MacLeod was alive. No...it had to be wishful thinking on Pierson’s part. He called for his men. He wanted a full report on all of Pierson’s activities. Time to see just what the man thought he knew.