by Kitty Thomas
“No,” Ari said. “Never.”
“How is that going to work? You'll get bored eventually. When you do, what does that mean for me?”
“Look at me.”
Scared green eyes rose to his.
“You are mine, little one. It doesn't matter how we got here. We're here. Can you honestly say you don't want the things I can give you?”
She remained silent, but they both knew he was right. The way she responded... the fantasies she'd admitted to. The things she needed. The things he could provide. At this point with all both of them had gone through, it was foolish to deny the alchemy that had taken place between them.
“What would you do if I let you go back out into the world? What are you losing out there?”
“Nothing,” she whispered.
That single word confirmed everything he'd suspected since he'd first laid eyes on her. That stark, hollow loneliness. He'd wanted to take her out of that loneliness from the moment their eyes had first locked. Maybe he'd always known. Even when it seemed impossible, and she'd been the one in control. She was always supposed to be his.
“So you will obey me, and I will take care of you and give you pleasure. It's very simple.”
“And when you get tired of me?”
“Oh Claire, I will never get tired of you.”
She remained silent, likely doubting the promise in his words. Eventually she would know it was true. Fate had given him this girl, and he wasn't about to reject the generous gift.
Claire woke the next morning in her bed in the nook, the chain secure around her ankle. Ari had slept downstairs in his own bed. He hadn't fucked her yet. He'd allowed her an entire day free of that intrusion, even though they both knew she wanted him inside her. She couldn't deny it even to herself. The possibility of their joining and the anticipation of it hung on the air, a palpable pleasure.
Even as she wanted him, she was afraid. What if she had a flashback? What if she couldn't handle it? Even though they hadn't had sex, everything he did with her was somehow sexual and promised dark carnality which she both wanted and was afraid to taste at the same time.
The way he'd started feeding her from his hand. The kneeling. Her nudity. The obedience. The way he'd bathed her the day before. The way his fingertips had gently caressed her old, faded scars from a more violent captivity.
While his bedroom was a bright white windowless cave, she'd found when the blindfold was removed that his bathroom had huge floor-to-ceiling windows. It seemed so strange to have no privacy in the bathroom. But the enormity of his property and the protected gates around it ensured no one could peep inside. Still, it had been both nice and strange to sit in a tub and be able to see the trees next to the bathroom while red birds twittered away in the snow-covered branches.
Claire's face flamed as the memory shifted away from the scenery and to the feel of his soapy fingers caressing her breasts and stroking between her thighs. The careful, deliberate way he'd touched and watched her and the helpless way she'd opened herself to that touch. She hadn't offered him the slightest resistance after her punishment in the dungeon, and it wasn't from fear of the whip. She couldn't even pretend she didn't want his hands on her. Even now, she was too aroused by the sharp memory to deny it.
From the moment that first whip lash had fallen across her back, she'd had little room for anything in her mind but Ari. Instead of waking with some awful memory of the basement, she'd woken with the memory of his large hand between her legs making her come, first lying spread open across his bed, and then later in the bath.
“Claire?” Ari called from the main level. His deep, growling voice caused her stomach to flip.
“Y-yes, Master?”
She quickly crawled out of the bed to kneel on the floor as he climbed the stairs. Her gaze dropped to the ground. He hadn't told her to look at the ground. It was just hard to meet his gaze after the things she'd been thinking.
“How long have you been awake?” he asked.
“I-I don't know. Maybe fifteen minutes?”
“Why aren't you touching yourself like I told you to? Every morning. Was I not clear enough?”
She felt herself go rigid under his scrutiny, unable to respond to his demand.
“I want to wake up every morning to the sound of your orgasm,” he said. “I woke to very disappointing silence this morning. Do you want to disappoint me?”
“No, Master.” She felt tears begin to slide down her cheeks.
“Good girl. Start. It's not a wake-up call, but watching a live show is nice, too. I might be moved to forgive you for the disobedience this time. But don't make it a habit.”
“Master, I can't.”
“Why not?” His ice blue gaze froze her from the inside out. There was a hard challenge in his eyes.
“You know why.” She held her breath. She just couldn't... think those things and bring herself to orgasm. She'd thought she could. She'd rationalized and reasoned and justified. It wasn't as though thinking these forbidden thoughts changed her situation in any way. What harm could it do now?
“Lie back on the bed and spread your legs.”
Claire obeyed the command. This was so much easier. He told her what to do, and she did it. After all, how could she refuse? There was a dungeon downstairs. And whips. And it wasn't as though he needed props to be a threat. He was so tall and broad and muscled.
He owed her so much pain for what she'd given him. They both knew that. It was easier to follow his orders than to initiate these things on her own. She could admit that she wanted him and even the sexual fantasies he promised to fulfill, but she didn't know if she could surrender fully in her own mind. Giving him what he wanted this time meant not just giving him her body, but letting him control what she thought about because the only way to perform the physical act to completion was to let those dark thoughts free from their cage inside her mind.
Her gaze drifted to his chest. He was tall and broad but his muscles weren't bulky. He'd lost some weight in the time she'd had him, but he hadn't had bulky bodybuilder muscles even then. Ari's muscles were all about performance. Strength. He was sleek like a jungle cat. And he had that V that dipped underneath his jeans taunting her. She could see he was hard and ready. Yet he hadn't made her touch him or suck him. He hadn't fucked her yet.
She licked her suddenly dry lips.
“Was there something here you wanted?” Ari asked, a smirk inching up his face. Yeah, he knew how appealing he was. He was just as beautiful and dangerous as the animal he reminded her of.
Claire didn't have an answer to his question. She was afraid to say yes, but she couldn't say no.
Mercifully he didn't push.
“Tomorrow you will do this without my help. But today I will give you the images you need to get off. Put your hand between your legs and start rubbing your clit. And don't take your eyes off mine. If you want even a little privacy for your morning orgasm, you'll do it on your own in the future. I can either just hear it, or I can hear and watch it. Do you understand?”
“Y-yes, Master.”
He might think it was harder for her to look in his eyes to do this, but it wasn't. Following his direct orders, convincing herself terrible things would happen if she didn't, all so she could let go and feel pleasure... it was so much easier than dredging up those fantasies she'd kept locked away for so long. But for today at least, Claire could leave that box closed and locked. She didn't need it.
Ari began to paint a picture in her mind. “Let me tell you what will happen between us, little one. I want to be sure you understand it fully. I am going to train your body to obey my every command. I plan to train and use every hole. You will learn to properly offer these things to me for my pleasure.”
A gasp left Claire's throat. Her hips moved with her fingers as she stroked herself. His words made her pussy ache from the need for him to fuck her. And that low growl in his voice. It was as if his voice alone could call forth the wetness that already began to coat he
r fingers.
“You will kneel and crawl and obey. That is your life now. The only thing you concern yourself with from now on is what will please your master. I'll take your mouth and teach you to suck and swallow like my good and dirty little whore.”
A whimper. “Master, please...”
“I'll take you down to the dungeon, tie you down and paddle your ass. When the wetness is dripping down your thighs from the paddle, I'll fuck your tight little cunt. Once I'm pleased with that, I'll start training your ass to take me...”
Ari couldn't get any further with whatever else he planned to say because Claire couldn't hold back the orgasm any longer. She moaned loudly, not caring about the sound. He wanted to hear it, after all. She writhed and bucked against her fingers giving him everything he'd demanded as she took her own pleasure.
Finally, her orgasm subsided. She lay on the bed, her breath still coming out in pants, her gaze still locked with his.
He smiled. “Good girl.”
29
Ari went to the closet and grabbed a blindfold and took the key to the chain off his dresser then he went back up the stairs to her. This time, he didn't have to tell her to kneel. She did it easily. He stroked her hair, and she leaned into his approving touch.
Ari unlocked the chain and carried her downstairs to the bathroom.
“Use the bathroom, brush your teeth, and take a shower,” he said before leaving her alone. He'd be glad when she was free to roam the house, but for now, this level of dependence would more tightly forge the bond he wanted between them. He wanted her to remember that every bit of pleasure, every small comfort, every basic need, came from him.
He stepped back into the bathroom when she was in the shower and sat on the edge of the tub to watch her. The shower didn't have the standard mottled glass that blurred the edges of naked bodies. It was clear and smooth, revealing everything to his greedy gaze.
She flushed when she noticed him watching her, but she didn't stop. He wondered when the shy blushing would stop. Ari would miss it when it did. He considered getting in the shower with her, but she was still adjusting to her new situation. He knew he was large and intimidating, and even though it was a big shower, he didn't want to make her feel unnecessarily threatened.
At least he wouldn't have to leave her today. Even though Claire thought he'd gone out to the store and left her alone, he'd decided instead to have groceries for the week delivered so he could focus on getting work done on the project. The combination of isolated captivity and this growing contentment over his new acquisition acted as a catalyst for the creative flow.
It had been shut off for weeks, but instead of slowly creaking back to life, the inspiration had flowed through him like water. He'd worked well into the night and had made a lot of progress on the plans. Creative and structural problems which had plagued him before Claire, had magically seemed to unlock, giving him all the answers he needed to meet his looming deadline.
When Claire shut off the shower, Ari stood ready for her with a large fluffy towel. When she stepped out, he dried her off and wrapped her in it.
“Sit,” he said, indicating the place he'd been sitting, “And enjoy the show.” He winked at her, and she flushed again.
Claire tried not to ogle Ari in the shower. She shouldn't want him so much. Then again, she knew first-hand how terrible captivity could be when you didn't want to be touched by the person who held your life in their hands. Was this the better option? To be held captive by someone who lit all your nerve endings on fire in all the best ways?
She thought about her abandoned apartment in the city. She couldn't imagine ever going back to that place again. She couldn't imagine standing there, alone in her kitchen staring at the front door, willing herself to step outside. And now she couldn't go outside at all. Not unless Ari decided to take her out. And why would he? It would be too much of a risk.
Her supposed freedom in that apartment had felt too open-ended, like it could stretch out forever without another person ever joining her in her life. Such a thought should have given her comfort after the basement, but it didn't. With too many possibilities and options, her world had narrowed and closed in on itself so that the simplest tasks became Herculean. And now? Now everything was so small, except for the larger-than-life presence in the shower. And it somehow felt better than what she'd had.
She should have been happy about her escape from the basement, her freedom. But how could she ever be normal again? Or happy again?
The worst thing had been the loneliness. She had no one she could share her experience with, no one who could understand. But Ari understood. They'd each taken turns playing both roles in this drama. He filled up all the empty spaces. The screaming void of a solitary person with no companion was gone forever now. And even though she knew she shouldn't, a part of her trusted this fucked-up bond between them. It felt strangely structurally sound.
The water shut off, and Ari got out of the shower. She watched the water drip off him as he bent to pick up a towel from the bottom shelf of the towel rack. But when he stood again, she got a view of the marks she'd left on him and winced. It was worse without the bandages hiding her crime.
He dried off and left the bathroom without even glancing her way. She sat there, wondering if she was still supposed to stay here or follow him.
He'd left her a brand new toothbrush still in the package, and there was a little space in the toothbrush holder beside his for hers. It felt so oddly domestic in spite of everything to brush her teeth and put her pink toothbrush in the holder next to his green one. It still seemed impossible that he hadn't locked her in a cell like the one she'd kept him in.
He hadn't drugged her, or made her sleep on the floor or threatened to kill her or made her bleed. Or yelled at her. He'd given her a warm bath and a hot shower. Never cold water out of a bucket with a sponge. And he'd held her when she'd had the nightmare, not fucking her when she knew he wanted to. All these things felt like small kindnesses in light of the evidence of her own violence she'd just seen on his back.
Ari returned wearing a fresh pair of jeans but no shirt.
“Will I ever get clothes again?”
A smirk inched up his cheek. “Eventually. Maybe.”
It was then that she noticed the blindfold he held in one hand.
“Close your eyes.”
Claire closed her eyes and didn't even flinch when he secured the blindfold, though her heart thundered in her chest, wondering what was coming next. She worried her mind might snap out of the way this man seemed to have hypnotized her. She worried she might stop wanting him and this twisted thing growing between them. Ari took the towel off her, but he didn't leave her naked. A few moments later he was helping her into a bathrobe.
Then he scooped her up and carried her from the room. He didn't take her down any stairs this time.
Ari stopped and set her on her feet on hardwood floor. He removed the blindfold, and she took a moment to look at her surroundings. They were in the kitchen. White, gray, black. It was a very modern kitchen with a large stainless steel island that somehow looked stylish instead of cold. Along one wall beside a long blond wood kitchen table was a sliding glass door. Snow fell in big fluffy pieces, gently landing and collecting on the frozen ground.
Ari began taking things out of the refrigerator and started making breakfast.
Claire couldn't remember the last time it had snowed so much in January. She moved to the table and ran her hand along the natural finish.
“This table is amazing,” she said. She'd never seen a table like this in any store or even design catalog. It was simple, yet elegant. Sturdy. It felt like it could last centuries.
“I made it,” he said.
She glanced up, surprised. “You made this?” For a moment she forgot the circumstances between them. She had to take a break from reality to marvel at this table.
“It's beautiful. Is that what you do for work?”
She watched as Ari kneaded and ro
lled out dough on the stainless steel island. That island wasn't mere design. It was practical. This was not a man who did instant biscuits out of a tin, she realized, cringing again at all the canned beef stew she'd fed him. He must have been going out of his mind for real food and this kitchen.
“No, not work. It's just a hobby.”
“What do you do for work?” He had to be independently wealthy. Any job would have fired him after a three-week unexplained absence. Another wave of guilt washed over her at all the ways she'd fucked up this man's life.
He stopped working the dough and gave her a stern look. “Are you forgetting yourself, little one? We're getting awfully casual here.”
“I-I'm sorry, Master.”
He nodded and went back to the dough, clearly not prepared to talk about his work, whatever it might be.
Claire looked back at the falling snow. A fox stood outside the door, only feet away, staring at her. She yelped.
Ari came over to where she stood to see what had caused that sound to come out of her.
“The fox?” he asked.
She nodded. Claire had never seen a fox outside a nature show.
“Yeah, that's Arnold.”
“You have a fox?”
Ari went back to his work, flipping some breakfast ham that he'd started frying in a skillet.
“He's not my fox. I found him injured on the property last year. I guess he was lost, and he couldn't feed himself because of the injury. So I kept him safe and fed him. When he got better he disappeared back into the woods. I thought he was gone for good, but he kept coming back. Probably because I keep giving him scraps.”
With that, Ari picked up one of the frying pieces of ham off the skillet and tossed it out the door into the snow. The fox ran after it.
“But you named him,” Claire said.
“I couldn't just call him hey fox. I had to call him something.” Ari went back to breakfast, placing the carefully cut biscuits on a pan and sliding them into the oven. He started a pot of coffee.
