The daylight streaming into the curtainless room wakes me up. I open my eyes and sit upright immediately in a room that is strange to me. Through the glass wall I see the sweeping panorama of the lake, the distant mountain range, in flames from the rising sun, and expanse of barren land. As if I am in a lonely heaven, or hell! It takes a moment or two before I realise where I am. Oh, where is he? My man, redeem me.

I call his number. It is the third time ever. What number will be required? His recorded voice: 'There you are, my dear, alone, waiting for me, stripped of everything that was your life, your life reduced to waiting for me. And I will come. You may trust me. I will come, later, when you least expect me.
As for now, you are to carry out my instructions to the letter and do no more and no less than I tell you. Literally. You are hardly even to flinch an eye unless specifically instructed. Please take a pencil and a sheet of paper from the drawer of this table and write down the list of times and instructions that I will recite to you shortly. I will give you a moment to get ready.'
I write down a long list of the most detailed of instructions. When and where to sit, when to move a leg over the other, when to sit in front of the window with wide open thighs, when to stand up, when to lie down on the floor and stretch out, when to repeatedly scream out my name at the top of my voice until I can't continue, when to go to the kitchen, which cupboard to open, what food or drink to take out, to be placed on what plate or poured into what cup, when to pee, when to shit, when to lie down on the bed and finger myself for one minute, when to go outside and walk into the cold lake until the tips of my breasts are just immersed, how long to stand there, when to walk back to the glass facade and press my body against it, how long to remain motionless in this position, until my tied nipples start hurting unbearably, remaining motionless even when a fly lands on one of my buttocks and walks to my hole and around and around until I go insane, when to take a bath, how hot the water is to be, when to shave the stubbled private garden.
No one sees me do these things, I am convinced, yet I do them, religiously. He will come when I least expect him. I expect him all the time, therefore he does not come. Will he come when I have ceased to expect him? Oh, let me forget him.

I have just returned from the lake. I needed to run to it from the house as hard as I could, my breasts would bounce up and down, tightening the chain, which thereby would pull at my nipples, the discs between my legs would wildly clang. I was to dive straight into the water, stay under water as long as I could, stay in the water until I could not take it any longer from the cold. At 11 p.m., when the sun has long gone, I have dried myself and I sit near the window, thighs wide apart, my opening open to him, for when he comes, if he would come. The air is still warm. I fall asleep in the chair from sheer exhaustion and exasperation.

What went before - To be continued

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