by Poppet
Laying down beside her, I wrap her in my arms. Holding her, keeping her warm. Letting my body help to heal hers by returning thermal comfort. The stress of the late night, and chastising, allows me sleep. I will never get tired of a willing angel in my bed. Finding my own comfort in our bizarre dynamic, I slumber with my seraph.
~ Chapter 28 ~
In photography there are no shadows that cannot be illuminated.
~August Sander
Shauna:
Whenever I wake he props me up, making me sip liquids and soup through straws. Days run into each other.
All I seem to recall is him holding me in the bath, drying my hair, and putting me back to bed with tablets. Lethargically I stretch, testing my body's response. No pain. Sitting up, the room spins, forcing me to sag weakly back against pillows. The curtains are only half open, but something smells absolutely delicious, and I'm definitely hungry. He's got supernatural senses. I watch him walk into the room slowly, leaning casually against the beech chest of drawers opposite the bed. “Sleeping beauty finally wakes.”
My smile is automatic, it registers only after I smile, that my cheeks no longer hurt. “God sent you, didn't He?”
His smile is enchanting. He has perfect straight white teeth, a strong chin, in a smoothly shaven face. His skin is still youthful, with the only crinkles showing next to his eyes. Actually they suit him. They make him more handsome.
He unfolds strong, yet not bulky arms, strolling toward me and sitting down next to me. I could stay lost in his Java coffee eyes forever. A hand comes toward me to smooth the hair off my face, and without intending to, I flinch.
“Yes, He did.”
He pauses, retracting his hand with a reproachful expression in his eyes. I didn't mean to, it just happened.
“How are you feeling, angel?”
“Dizzy, hungry, but otherwise fine.”
He leans with one arm on the other side of my legs. Absently rubbing a hand over my thigh. “You're looking much better.”
Running a palm up his athletic arm, I stare deeply into his eyes. “Thank you Victor. You've been like a guardian angel to me.”
His expression squeezes my heart with its silent rebuke. “You don't know how many nights I've spent awake, wishing you'd slept over that night instead of going home.” I can't face that hurt in his eyes, retreating from them I stare instead at the way the blue t-shirt clings to his chest. “I just couldn't … I needed some privacy … some space.”
“But you left your sliding door open and the security gate unlatched. You know he's out there. Don't you care what he does to you?”
My disbelieving gaze jumps back to stare bitterly into his, “Of course I do.”
“I'm going to be a demanding boyfriend, Shauna. It's time you stayed here indefinitely. You can't go home alone until I know you are completely, one hundred percent, recovered.”
My heart just melts. I've never had anyone want to protect me like this before. “You got it.”
He smiles, leaning closer and delicately placing a kiss on the tip of my nose. “I've run a bath for you. Maybe after your bath we can eat together for a change?” Nodding, I silently agree. Unexpectedly he throws back the duvet, exposing my nudity, and possessively carries me to the bathroom.
“I'm sure I could have managed.”
“You just said you were dizzy. I'm not taking any chances.”
He lowers my legs into the white tub, waiting for me to regain my balance before releasing me. The wall opposite the bath and shower has a long mirror above the basins. So white in here it almost hurts my sensitive eyes.
Fascination grips me as I stare at my body in unashamed curiosity. Turning this way, then that, I inspect my back, my arms, my legs, using the mirror. It's like he can see what I'm thinking. He picks up a smaller mirror and hands it to me, before seating himself on the edge of the tub, facing me. Feeling slightly self-conscious, I inspect the inside of my thighs with the mirror. Shortness of breath causes my heartbeat to palpitate, and I lower myself into the frothy bubbles. Mild dread mingled with inquisitiveness grips me, leaning back I hold up the mirror to inspect my face. This isn't possible. I look no different to the day before Vengeance beat his god into me. I'm flawless. Well except for some bruising. But, I thought I was going to have marks for the rest of my life to remind me of that fucker. Wherever I had cuts, now it's as if they never happened.
Handing the mirror back, I notice the smug grin he's trying to suppress. “You did this?”
He takes it from me and places it on the vanity with a stretch. Dipping a hand into the bath, he extracts my foot, cupping the heel in a hand while his other hand kneads the sole gently. “I'm a cosmetic surgeon. There have to be some perks to dating me.”
I'm smiling so much it makes my cheeks ache. Wrenching my foot away with a messy splash, I scoot across the tub to wrap my arms around his waist. Squeezing him so tightly my arms shake. “Thank you! Thank you!”
His laughter reverberates deeply off the walls into the hollow space. A soul caressing sensation grips me when he hugs me back.
The conversation I've studiously been evading is unavoidable after dinner.
“Your Dad called. I told him I was your boyfriend and that you had a bad case of the flu.”
“Oh. What did he want? Did he say?”
Your Mum's physio is going well. She'll be able to walk again soon.”
“Well, that's good news.” I glance at him as I fiddle with my fork. His masculine hand covers mine, forcing me to rest the fork on my empty plate.
“Shauna …”
I hide my sigh and face his insistent countenance. “Yes?”
“Why didn't you call your parents? Why don't you tell them what's happened?”
Retracting my hand from his I fold my arms, considering how to say this without sounding judgmental. Swallowing heavily against a suddenly parched mouth, I finally look into his eyes. “They won't believe me.”
“But you have proof.”
“It doesn't matter to them. I'm the rebel. The bad child. From about the age of thirteen they washed their hands of me. It didn't matter if I got bullied at school, or what happened to me, they always said I was fabricating stories to get their attention.”
He leans back, a pensive expression marring his usual warmth. “But, they're your parents.”
“You say that like they owe me love and support. They don't share that perspective.”
“Why would they say that?”
“My folks went through a bad patch. My Dad left for a while. I was always getting into trouble at school. And they were called in together because of me. The school psychiatrist gave them the professional opinion, that I act out to get attention, because I don't feel validated at home. The cause was put down to their separation. But it's a label that stuck.”
“But they're together now?”
“Yes. Mum got pregnant with my sister. The golden child. And they decided to give it another go.”
“But people have died. You were kidnapped.”
“They don't believe any of it. They think I was prostituting myself for drugs and that's why I went missing. They think whatever I tell them is deviant and prearranged. Usually so I can take off with their cash for my secret life that doesn't exist.”
He holds my hand, seeming so concerned. “How do you feel about that?”
“They needed someone to blame for their issues. It landed up being the one thing that forced them to get married too young. I am the sole root of their problems.”
“But, this is your opinion, right?”
“Yes. I don't know what to think. The cops treat me like I'm hiding something, and my folks think I orchestrate everything to get attention. I've stopped telling them anything other than what they want to hear.”
“That you're fine?”
“Yes.”
“Oh baby …” He pulls me across to him, rubbing my arm and kissing my forehead. Pulling away he examines my face, wearing his tender smile, “Yo
u have me now. I believe you.”
Tears well up. He touches my soul with his genuine love. I place a soft palm against his cheek, closing my eyes to kiss him. Burying the emotional rush.
“You have been so amazing. I'd be dead and broken without you.”
“How is your body feeling now?”
“I think I can safely say work will resume tomorrow. Or I'll be back home to them, where I really don't want to ever go again.”
“Speaking of which …” He sits up straight, a smile playing his lips again. “I had a word with my editor. I thought you might be worried about your income after so long out of commission, and she says she'll give you some photos to rework for her.” He smiles wide, catching my nose in his fingers. “Maybe it can be a permanent thing?”
My spine turns into a rubber band with his consideration. “I don't get it. How can men like you exist? You are wonderful, patient, tender, loving, and yet there are men like Vengeance running around free, waiting to destroy what's beautiful in this world.”
“He didn't destroy us. Try not to think about him.”
I nod. Just grateful for everything. Including my health and being clean with clean teeth, all because of his amazing charity.
“I got your bank account details from your Dad.”
My heart sinks, feeling oddly short of breath. “Why?”
“I want you to know I'm dead serious about you. I didn't want you to have any reason to leave and have to move. So I deposited money into your account to tide you over. You can always pay me back. But I just wanted to make sure none of your debit orders bounced.”
“How long have I been out of it?”
“Three and a half weeks.”
“My God!”
This winds me. Staring at the smudges of the black marble of the dining table, I feel faint. Belatedly I stutter out, “Th.. thanks. Thank you … I … uh …”
He tilts my chin to stare into his eyes. “Just be there for me when I need you one day.” I nod, a smile summoned out of me by his amazing approach. I am so indebted, I can never repay him. “And love me every now and then. I miss your body around mine.”
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pull myself closer. I need to face this. I need to do this. I need him to erase the last memory for me, with one that's tender, loving and true.
Covering his lips with my own, I trace inside them with the tip of my tongue. I'm lifted to sit in his lap, a hand straying automatically to awaken my nipple. Conscious that I'm not wearing any underwear, feeling apprehensive when he hardens under my thigh.
My breath is shaky. I'm terrified.
He reads it as ardent fervour. Lifting me bodily, kissing me all the way back to the obsidian black of his bed.
•
The Watcher:
And I saw that it was good.
My son is a reason to be proud. I am unable to experience pride. I created everything. It exists because I exist. As a child he was petulant and rebellious. Quoting the words inspired by myself to prophets and men long dead, I disciplined him until he saw the light of my love. Illuminating his mind, I awoke his soul to the joyful rapture of union with his Father. I am his Alpha, and I created him to balance my endless creation. My son Omega. The victor of mankind.
His worldly name became Victor. I tested his faith relentlessly, taking away from him the things which he desired which were impure and would not nurture a righteous heart.
I am the watcher. I watch over my creations. It is right, it was always so, it will always be so. I showed him how to gather an army. But still I must watch him. Occasionally it occurs to me how his logical reasoning would interfere with his soul's blossoming, when a young child. It's my duty to ensure that the man he has grown into does not adopt that same resistance.
~ Chapter 29 ~
It is part of the photographer's job to see more intensely
than most people do.
~Bill Brandt
Victor:
Guessing the time she'd wake correctly, I stroll in after watching her from the newly installed cameras. This way she can never catch me off guard. I've enjoyed keeping her sedated, it reminds me of when we first bonded during her captivity.
There are certain things she does, which remind me that she contains a quality of innocence. Like the first time she saw her bed and squealed, “It's gigantimasaurus.” She's unique, in a naive way. That's what drew me to her. It's what made me want to save her.
Sitting down I examine her level of alertness. She seems fine. Staring deeply into her eyes, making all the right noises, I reach out to move hair off her rejuvenated face. Her reaction stalls my heartbeat.
Shauna, I've never had a turned angel live with me. Don't be permanently scarred. I've fixed the outside, but you are my Eve. Don't flinch from me, baby. I've had lots of time to reconsider my approach. You are mine. You are right where I've desired you to be. In my home, in my bed, sharing your life, thoughts and body with me. I no longer need to discipline you. I will blind you often, with pleasure.
Oddly, I feel elated when she hugs me. I knew she'd be pleased. I've made her favourite meal for her waking up dinner, butternut risotto. Father believes a man must be skilled and rely on a woman for nothing. There is nothing I cannot do.
At some point I'll have to put her skills to the test. Although her cooking skills don't interest me. What most women aren't aware of, is how what they eat can play a large role in determining the sex of their children. Red meat is reared with hormones to bulk up the animal faster, usually with testosterone. And the more circulating testosterone in a woman's body, the higher the chance of a male conception becomes. A largely vegetarian diet makes a woman's body too acidic. The body itself acting as a spermicide. I've fed her nothing but meat soups for almost a month. Priming her for tonight.
Perhaps we should move to a place with fewer neighbours in close proximity?
Her father calls her every second day. She gives the impression she loves them, and they her. He was seriously reserved with me answering her phone every time he called. But it is time they accept me as part of her life.
She's never going to leave me, it was time to cross the gap. I was persuasive, charming and naturally concerned for her ill-health. Alpha was right about parents too. They don't care if you murder prostitutes and sinners in your spare time, just as long as you're educated and earn a good wage.
Hell, I doubt if he really gave a damn.
Isn't parental motivation more the fact that they no longer have to be there for their children? A serious man in her life who can provide for her, means they can unburden themselves. She's become my problem, and he warmed up quickly after the initial interrogation. More than happy to give me her account details.
I sensed his relief at not having to be the one to bail her out. He made noises about the cost of health care for Linda after the accident, and I 'seem like a good chap'. Not to mention it helps my cause if she gets added pressure from them to marry me. I don't take a condescending tone from anyone, unless I get what I want out of the deal. And I've got it all. Her body, her soul, her gratitude.
Before her reserve returns, while she's feeling indebted to me, I must make my move. She hasn't been on contraception for weeks. It's a small window of opportunity, but one I must take. Father only gives me two years per project.
The only way to protect her is to make her legally mine. Or final judgement will be passed on her, and I know from experience that hers will be the death penalty. We're running out of time for her to become pregnant and legally mine. Personally I feel an intense sense of accomplishment.
Interrogating her at dinner, I learn what I could not know, and had to know. I needed to know if they'd come looking for her. Would they ever decide to visit and stay for a holiday? Now that I know the truth, I know her parents won't be a problem.
The insight as to why she suffers a low self-esteem makes sense now too. It makes her easy prey. This here is proof as she sits in my lap, running that slutty tongue in my mouth
.
The difference between then and now, is between a man and his woman, it's not slutty. She must be like this with me. Willing, compliant, and open to my advances. That is a wife's duty. She conforms to my requirements perfectly. The thought of my son growing inside her makes me instantly hard.
Picking her up, I walk with her to the bedroom, laying her down, rapidly stripping off my attire. Covering her, supporting my weight on my arms, I insert a knee between her thighs, easing legs apart. Except the little vixen sinks hard fingers into my shoulders, pulling herself away, snivelling. Good thing I kept her nails so short. I was afraid this would happen.
“I can't.”
Shaking her head at me, tears gush like a broken fire hydrant. Her sensual mouth twisting unattractively as she points between her breasts. “He broke me. In here.”
Laying next to her, I pull her to me, smoothing her long hair absently. “It's okay, baby.”
Almost wailing, she sputters out, “He … he …”
“He raped you?”
Nodding her reply, she snuggles into me, absolutely wracking with sobs.
I pull her on top of me, kissing her face as I lie relaxed, waiting patiently for the turmoil to subside. Which thank God it does after a few minutes. I'm still harder than petrified wood.
Choosing persistence, I caress her head and shoulders until she sits up to kiss me. Kissing her back I gauge how far I can go with this, by her response. Well she's not afraid to kiss me.
“Shauna, I'm not going to pretend. I want you.” Pausing dramatically, I let it sink in before offering solutions. “I'd like to help you get over this pain, this hurdle. I don't want him to lie in bed between us.” Gently caressing her breast as I speak, staring intently into her eyes. “I can take my time, helping you to relax, turning your body back into a pleasure zone. I can go slow, be gentle. I just want to love you.” Masking my face with twisted grief, “I've been so looking forward to your next orgasm.”
