by B. B. Hamel
“Not bad,” he muses and carries the bag over to me. “Here, these should all fit. Wear whatever you want.”
I take the bag and dig through it. There are shirts, shorts, pants, bras, and underwear in there. But no socks and no shoes.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Sure.” He takes my old clothes. “I’ll wash these for you.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s fine.” He pauses, staring at me, and I know he’s thinking about what’s underneath my new clothes.
I want him to think about it, I realize suddenly. I want him to imagine my body. He clearly liked it, and I have to admit, I liked him looking at me. I’ve never been given that kind of attention before in my life and it felt so good.
He turns away from me. I can tell he doesn’t want to. I can see it in the tension of his body.
“You should get some sleep,” he grunts at me. “I bet you haven’t slept much on the road.”
I bite my lip. He’s not wrong. I think back to all the fear, the terror of sleeping out in public, the desperation…
“How do you know that?” I ask him.
“You’re not the first drifter to pass through,” he says. “I’ve heard the stories. And a pretty girl like you…” He looks back at me. “You’re lucky I found you.”
“Yeah. Lucky.”
He watches me before shaking his head and walking to the stairs. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he says.
I watch him slowly climb up. I don’t say anything, even though I want to ask him to stay.
I want to know more about the man that’s keeping me captive. I want to know more about the man that’s driving me absolutely insane.
Maybe my parents were right. Maybe I am full of demons.
But no, that can’t be right, because this feels too good.
“See you soon,” he says, disappearing upstairs.
I hear the lock thunk shut. I’m left alone in the little basement prison apartment with a bag of clean clothes and the television.
6
Rhett
I wake up with the hardest fucking morning wood I’ve ever had in my life.
I thought about her all night. I wanted to go back down there, rip off those clothes, fuck her rough and deep and take what I need. She’s so fucking gorgeous and she’s down there, right down there, begging for me to come fuck and ravish her.
But I don’t. Not yet. She needs to rest, to get her strength up. I wasn’t kidding when I said life on the road is hard.
But fucking hell. My cock just won’t relax. I get up and manage to control myself before showering off and heading into the kitchen. It’s early, just a little past seven, and I don’t know how long she’ll sleep.
I don’t really care. I make her some eggs and coffee, and head downstairs, my heart beating fast in my chest, my cock already stirring.
Fucking hell. I keep seeing that body. Perfect tits, amazing ass. And she says nobody’s ever seen her naked before…
Fucking shit. I think she’s a goddamn virgin like she said.
Maybe she’s lying. There’s still the possibility that she’s savvier than I realize. Maybe she’s a smart drifter, good at lying. Maybe I should be more careful around her.
But I don’t think so. I saw the way she looked at me last night. That was pure lust in her eyes. She liked that I was staring at her body. She liked taking her clothes off for me.
Nobody’s ever given her that kind of attention before. Well, she’s about to get a lot more of it.
The lights are off in the main room. I carry her breakfast over to the kitchen and place it down on the table. When I’m done, I walk back to her bedroom and open the door.
She’s lying on the bed in a tangle of sheets. She sits up on one elbow, staring at me, wearing only a pair of panties and a plain white t-shirt, her nipples hard under the thin white fabric. Our eyes meet and she doesn’t look afraid.
I walk toward her. “Morning,” I say softly.
“Morning,” she whispers.
I stop at the end of the bed. She stares down at me, not moving, not covering herself up.
Fucking hell.
I can’t handle it anymore.
I reach forward and grab her ankle. She bites her lip as I pull her toward me. She slides down the bed as I tear the sheets away. She gasps as I grab her hips and pull her against me, legs off the end of the bed.
I grab the hem of her shirt and lift it over her head. She digs her fingers into my lower back and stares up at me, nipples hard, mouth hanging open.
I grip her chin, tilt her toward me, and kiss her.
She doesn’t hesitate or shy away. She kisses me back like she’s been expecting it, dreaming about it, wanting it all night long. And I love it, her tongue in my mouth, her taste on my lips. She’s fucking incredible, that kiss, that soft little moan she makes as I cup her breasts and tease them.
She groans when I drop down onto my knees. I pull her legs open wide and kiss her chest, licking her nipples, teasing with my tongue and teeth. She groans when I kiss her neck and pull her hair back tight. She gasps as I kiss down her body and pull her panties off.
She raises her hips as I slide them down over her ass. I kiss her inner thigh, up around her pussy and finally lick her top to bottom, tasting her dripping wet cunt.
I knew she’d be wet for me. I knew she wanted this as much as I did, but god damn. It still drives me wild, this gorgeous girl, this fucking virgin. She’s my goddamn captive and yet she wants me to suck her little cunt as badly as I want it.
I push her back down onto the bed and lick her pussy. She groans and rolls her hips, a little awkward at first. I bet she’s never had a man’s mouth between her legs like this before.
“Just relax, little Emma,” I say softly as I press a finger inside her. She gasps and looks at me, pretty lips parted. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.”
She moans as I suck and lick her clit. She rolls her hips and I pull her tight against me. I have to keep her legs spread wide, her hands pinned down at her sides. She wants to wriggle away, but I won’t let her escape.
“Let me lick his cunt,” I growl at her. “Don’t try and fight me.”
“Please,” she groans. “I’ve never… it’s too much.”
I laugh and slide my fingers inside of her again, stroking in and out. “You think it’s too much? Girl, you haven’t felt anything yet.”
She moans as I suck and lick her clit faster, fingers sliding in and out of her pussy. Her eyes are wide with shock and pleasure and she’s moaning, losing herself, loosening up as the pleasure takes over.
I’m not a nice man. I’m not a gentle man. But I take her to her limits and beyond, sucking and licking, pushing her body with skill. She responds to every touch, every lick, every stroke of my fingers.
I can read her like a book, play her like an instrument. And god damn, I love it. She’s fucking wild, delicious, beautiful, and untouched.
I’m going to touch her. I’m going to make her all mine.
By the end of this, she’ll know exactly what it’s like to get fucked by a man.
I keep going, fingers stroking, tongue licking. She doesn’t take long, not long at all. She’s moaning loudly and rolling her hips and soon, I can tell she’s close. I can tell she wants to come.
I wonder briefly if she’s ever gotten off before.
I don’t care. I keep going. I push her to her limit and right to the edge.
“Come for me,” I say, stroking her.
“Oh, shit. I don’t know how.”
“Relax and let it take you.”
She groans as I lick her faster. She rolls her hips again and I press my fingers deeper.
She gasps and I can feel it. She comes hard, moaning, her whole body twitching and shaking. I keep going, licking her through it, making her come so hard her voice almost goes hoarse.
But slowly, she comes down. When she’s done, I stand up and step back, staring down at her g
orgeous naked body. She’s sweating and breathing hard, staring up at me with shock and lust in her eyes.
“I brought you breakfast,” I say. “It’s in the kitchen.”
I turn and leave the room.
I have to shut the door behind me. Holy fucking damn. That girl is gorgeous, so fucking beautiful. I bet she has no fucking clue what she’s doing to me.
I hurry away, heading back upstairs before I lose any more control of myself.
7
Emma
A s soon as I finish breakfast, I know I have to get out of here.
It’s not that I feel like I’m in danger. Actually, I probably should be a little more afraid for myself.
I mean, I’m locked in this guy’s basement and I barely know anything about him. I know he’s the chief of police, so I should be able to trust him, but…
There’s something strange about him. He’s handsome and charming and he makes my stomach do flips when he’s around, but it’s strange. I mean, I don’t understand why he has this prison in his basement at all, and why he just happened to have some clothes for me.
I’m not sure I believe a lot of what he’s saying.
Still, none of that is what’s making me want to escape. So he has some secrets and he’s not telling me the whole truth. I’ve been living my whole life with people that keep things from me, want to hurt me, want to abuse me, destroy me. Rhett isn’t nearly as bad as my parents are.
It’s everything else that makes me want to run away. It’s his hands on my body, his mouth between my legs. It’s the way I so readily took my clothes off for him like it was no big deal. It felt so good to let him watch me naked, to let his eyes roam my skin, and then later…
I’ve never felt that before. I mean, I’ve touched myself in the middle of the night when nobody would hear me. I even gave myself an orgasm once or twice. But that, what he did…
It was amazing.
Holy shit, it was amazing.
Now I get why people are obsessed with sex. It’s incredible, it feels so freaking good, and I realize just how much I’m willing to give up to get another taste of what he can give me. His mouth between my legs was so dirty, so filthy, and so wrong. I was raised to never, ever let a man touch me like that, and part of me still clings to those old ideas.
But that only makes me want it even more. That only makes it so much hotter, so much dirtier. Every time I think about him feeling my breasts, teasing my hard nipples, tonguing my wet pussy, it drives me totally wild with how wrong and how right it felt.
I think I’d do anything for another taste of that. Which is why I have to get out of here.
I don’t know what I’m willing to give up to him if he can keep making me feel that way, and I don’t think I want to find out.
It terrifies me just thinking of losing myself to this man. I can already feel part of me drifting away, some part of me deep down yearning for him to take me, control me, give me what I want, tell me what to do. I crave that kind of master, that kind of domination. Maybe it’s because of the way I was raised, I don’t know, but it feels good to do what he tells me to, and to let him do whatever he wants to my body.
I think I’d beg him for more if he asked. I think I’d let him do whatever he wanted.
I have to get out of here before I lose myself completely. I know I’ll let him take me and control me and I know I’ll love it. I know it’ll feel so good to lose myself to this man.
I can’t let it happen, though.
After I’m done eating, I clean my plate and I start looking around for some way out.
Just like he said, there are no windows. It’s a little spooky, and I realize now that I’m basically completely in the dark down here. Aside from the television, I have no access to the outside world. It could be the middle of the night right now for all I know.
Okay, so, no windows. I check everything, all the seams, maybe for a vent I can crawl up, or maybe an old fireplace, I don’t know, something. But of course, there’s nothing.
Finally, I come up to the door.
It’s heavy and thick. I think it’s made of wood, and when I push my body against it, nothing happens. The door doesn’t budge.
I frown and test it some more. I push harder, but nothing. I wait between tests to catch my breath and to make sure he’s not around to hear before I start to slam myself against the door, over and over again.
I kick it, bash it, push it, but nothing. It doesn’t budge a single inch.
I remember seeing the lock from the outside. It looked big and steel, the sort of lock that I have no hope of breaking. I’m not a big person at all, and I don’t weigh all that much. I don’t think I could break down a normal door, let alone one that’s been reinforced.
I slink back down into the basement after having bashed myself against the door over and over for at least a half hour. It didn’t move a single millimeter that whole time.
“Shit,” I whisper out loud to myself. “Shit, shit, shit.”
I can’t break out. There are no windows, no way up except for that door. Which means I’m going to have to wait for him to open it if I have any hope of getting away.
Maybe I can attack him, knock him out, sneak upstairs. Maybe I can lure him down then make a break for it while he’s looking for me. Actually, that’s not a bad idea, but…
Where would I go?
I have a vague memory of where we are relative to the town. I think I could point myself in the right direction if I could get out the front door.
But we’re deep in the woods. If I did get past him and up the stairs, I’d have to go outside, into that forest. I don’t have shoes or socks, so I’d be running barefoot.
He’d catch me. There’s no doubt in my mind. Even if I ran as fast as I could, my feet would break and bleed and he’d hunt me down with ease.
I curl up on the couch, not bothering with the TV. I keep trying to picture some way out, but with nothing on my feet, and no way to break free, I have no clue how it’ll even be possible.
Maybe I really am stuck here.
Maybe that’s not such a bad thing, and that thought scares the hell out of me.
* * *
I spend the day huddled on the couch, staring at the TV, and sleeping.
I don’t dream much. I never have, even back home. I think it’s because dreams never held much good for me. I know people always talk about dreams as these beautiful things where you can be anything, but my dreams never had any of that. Maybe because I could never see myself doing anything more than what my parents told me to do.
I don’t know what time it is when I hear footsteps on the floor upstairs. I sit up straight and listen as the steps move around the house. They’re heavy at first and lighter after a minute or two, I think because Rhett took his boots off after work.
So it must be late in the day then. I sigh and stretch. I slept away most of my time, when I should’ve been up and planning how the hell I’m going to get out of here.
The steps stop for a while and I sit there in silence, straining to hear anything. I mute the television and close my eyes, picturing the upstairs the best I can, although I only saw the main living room and the basement door. There were other rooms toward the back of the house, but he didn’t take me to any of those.
Suddenly, the door unlocks with a thud. I nearly jump out of my skin as the door opens and shuts, and he slowly comes down the carpeted stairs.
He smiles when he sees me. He’s wearing a faded crewneck sweatshirt for some school I don’t recognize and a pair of old jeans. He’s holding something in his hands, and it takes me a second to realize that it’s a belt.
“Emma,” he says, stopping at the bottom of the stairs.
“What time is it?” I ask him.
“Six in the evening. Have you eaten yet?”
I shake my head. There’s not much down here right now, although he promised he’d bring me more food.
“Well, I’ll make you something in a little while,” he
says, walking over to the kitchen table. He puts the belt down flat on the table, folded once over itself. He turns to me and smiles again. “What did you do with yourself all day?”
I shrug a little, heart beating fast. “Nothing really. Slept, watched TV. Not all that much to do down here.”
“True,” he says. “Sorry about that. I’ll think of something to bring down for you, something entertaining.”
“Thanks,” I say, looking away from him.
I’m so nervous and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t approached me yet. He hasn’t taken a single step in my direction at all, which is strange. He’s looking at me with a smile on his lips, but it doesn’t feel like a warm smile, not at all.
I’ve seen that smile before on other people, and it’s never a good thing.
“What else did you do?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I say, pulse quickening even more.
“Are you sure?” he asks softly. “You weren’t… up the steps?”
I nearly stumble backwards. I feel dizzy as fear rushes over me. “What? I, I mean, no, of course not.”
He sighs, almost like he’s disappointed. “You really shouldn’t lie to me, Emma.”
“No, I’m not lying.”
“Emma.” He walks closer to me now and his smile slips away. “What else did you do today?”
I stare into his eyes now and I know he knows. I don’t know how, but he knows I was trying to break down the door. He saw me, or heard me, or maybe there’s a camera in here. I’m suddenly afraid. He could be watching me at all times and I’d have no clue. I didn’t see any cameras, but the guy’s in law enforcement. I bet they have tiny little cameras I’d never, ever notice.
I don’t know what to do. I think about lying again, but the fight suddenly runs out of me. He knows too much, he has too much control. There’s no use in fighting him, he’s only going to win in the end.
“I tried to open the door,” I say softly.
His smile comes back, although a little less happy this time. “You did,” he says, more a statement than a question.
“I just wanted—”
“You wanted to get out,” he says.
