Tamed: (A Dark Romance Kidnap Thriller) (The Dark Necessities Trilogy Book 2)

by Felicity Brandon

  She stared into the blackness, reaching forward with her hands to feel the cool bars in front of her. How had it come this, she wondered, gloomily? Who was Connor, and other than degrading her, what made the guy tick? She had to understand how he worked to have any chance of getting out of this. What was it he’d said to her before the trip to the woods? That he’d chatted to her online in her readers group? As Molly blinked into the darkness, her mind flashed back to those many times she’d interacted with readers in the group. Not once had she ever suspected any of them capable of something like this. In fact, she’d wrongly assumed they were all women. Had she inadvertently shared something personal about her life? Had she somehow helped him to capture her in the first place?

  At that moment the dark reality of her situation hit her in earnest. All this time, Molly had managed to live in denial, functioning only on a moment to moment basis. She managed each new indignity, trying to stay in favor with her captor, and trying to stay alive. Now, in the grim, black basement, she finally allowed her mind to remember everything she had left behind; everything she had lost when he took her. Hot, sorrowful tears filled her eyes as she permitted the memories to come. Images of her apartment came to mind, the room she used as a study to write, the cozy kitchen and the beautiful bedroom she’d spent months decorating. And then, as if the plug had been released on her emotions, memories of her friends and family flashed behind her eyes.

  In her mind’s eye, her best friend, Suzy, appeared, the sound of her laughter ringing around the empty blackness. Molly sobbed as she recalled their many chats, discussing how Suzy and Steve’s marriage was going, and which man crush had most recently captured Molly’s imagination. The most recent had been Shaun. An image of the man she’d been dating materialized in the darkness. Shaun was strong, smart and attentive, but there was something about him that just didn’t seem to set her on fire. He wasn’t edgy enough, or sexy enough. He wasn’t dangerous enough. Molly laughed out loud at the idea now, or as best as she could in the awful gag, thinking what she’d give for a day with Shaun for company, instead of the psycho control-freak upstairs.

  Her mother had liked Shaun. In fact, she’d liked him a lot. With hindsight Molly could see that was part of the reason she’d gone off the guy in the first place. Her mind flitted to her parents, and large tears welled in her eyes again. What must they be thinking by now? Surely, they would have realized something was wrong when she never returned to the United States, but they’d never have imagined their only child locked inside a metal cage in an English basement. A part of her hoped they had called the authorities, and begun the search, but another part of Molly hated the thought of them worrying about her. Her father’s health hadn’t been great for years, and the stress of her going missing might be too much for him to handle.

  Perhaps her mother would get in touch with her assistant, Hannah. They’d been friends for a while, so it was entirely possible the two would liaise. What would Hannah be thinking now? However long it’d been since Molly went missing, it was long enough for Hannah to be sick with concern. The thought of her friend and ally being consumed with woe on her behalf made Molly feel beyond guilty. Hannah was such a free-spirit, yet as Molly’s assistant, she was also a God-send. She had her diary organized every day, and she managed all the administrative crap which frankly Molly didn’t have time for any more. Better than that though, Hannah was a great friend. They’d been on countless author events over the years. They’d worked together, laughed together and cried together, and helped to support a dozen or more of Molly’s new releases.

  Those days felt like a lifetime ago now. As if to reinforce the point, her knees began to ache, and she shifted her position, moving as far as the leash secured to her collar would allow. Misery at her sense of loss began to turn into low, simmering rage, and Molly sent her small fist crashing down hard against the plastic floor. She yelped as best she could as the force of the impact resonated up her arm and shoulder. Whimpering mournfully, she twisted her tired body into yet another position. Damn it, there was no way to be comfortable in this stupid thing. Grown women were just not designed to be forced into cages.

  Resting her back against the bars facing the basement steps, Molly forced a breath through her nose. This was easier said than done when she was upset, but with her mouth out of bounds, it was her only option. Sitting back on the dildo lodged into her ass, she fidgeted again. She had to get a handle on herself. She had to control her emotions before they became more dangerous than Connor himself. Being upset and angry was fine, she figured they were pretty normal responses under the circumstances, but if she wasn’t careful, her thoughts were going to push her over the edge long before the cage did.

  She glanced down at her body in the dim light, tracing a line over her knee with her left hand. How long was he going to make her stay in here? How long was he going to punish her for? Her breath caught in her throat as she considered something else, the very real possibility that this wasn’t the punishment at all. This could just be the pre-cursor – the warm-up for what was to come. Molly knew this room was filled with all sorts of torturous devices, each designed to bind her, or inflict pain in some cruel way. Connor could do whatever he liked. The man had been predictably unimpressed with her when he’d finally found her by the road-side. He could keep her in the cage for days if he wanted, or he could drag her out to splinter her backside with some other grotesque paddle, before forcing her right back inside. There was literally nothing that she could do about his choices, not now that she’d messed up and been caught by him, again. She was literally fucked.

  A low sob caught in her throat as the weight of the realization dawned on her, and the tears, so recently halted, fell hard and fast once more.

  Chapter Twelve

  His pulse was racing as he pushed back the basement door, descending the steps in a matter of seconds, the silver laptop under his arm. Her eyes were on him already; he knew it without looking. He could feel the weight of her stare. Connor intentionally avoided her gaze as he made his way into his play space, putting the laptop down in one corner. He knew she was desperate. Who wouldn’t be after hours locked in the cage; gagged and bound, with only the endless darkness for company?

  Her whimper broke the strained silence, and the corners of his mouth rose at the sound. She was desperate, alright.

  “And how is my pet?” he asked, finally allowing his gaze to fall over the cage to his right.

  His cock swelled at the sight of her, exactly where he had left her immobilized earlier. Her eyes were wide, swollen and red after the hours of angry tears he’d witnessed via the laptop. She writhed on the floor, shifting the weight between her elbows and knees. Connor could only imagine how agonizing those joints felt by now, all of her body weight forced upon them hour after hour. It must be hell. So why did the thought make him so damn horny?

  He lowered his body down to her level, eyeing the lead which secured her collar to the bars of the cage. Molly watched him intently, her stare fit to burst, though her mouth was still unable to vocalize her concerns. Reaching into his pocket, he knew he was smiling as he produced the small key which would liberate her. The look of the thing sent her into a spin, and she was panting as he creaked the lock open, pulling the door toward him.

  “Calm down,” he told her. “I know you want out, so you need to behave.”

  Molly blinked at him. She was clearly trying to calm herself, but not having so much success. Still, he appreciated the effort on her part. His right hand rose to her mouth, tracing a gentle line around the outline of her lips. Forced open by the severe dental gag in her mouth, her jaw had to be aching like hell by now, but still, her mouth looked fabulous this way. For a moment he once again considered bringing her out of the cage and fucking that sweet mouth. The thought was tempting, his cock throbbing urgently in his pants, but no – she was punished enough. Maybe he’d incorporate some more of her amazing cock-sucking skills into play later.

  Slowly, he untied the
chain which secured her collar to the side of the bars, effectively freeing her neck. She shivered at his touch, although the basement was a cozy, warm temperature. Had she missed him, perhaps? Or, maybe she was just anxious about what would come next. A fact she had every right to be.

  “Out you come,” he ordered sensually.

  She shuffled forward as much as her stiff joints and the chains at her limbs would allow. As she moved, he stalked to one of the nearby black cupboards, retrieving a large green blanket which he splayed over the ground beside her cage. Once she was free of the thing, he swooped, capturing her in one swift motion. A cry of pain rose from her throat, a product of the many hours she’d spent doubled over in the cage. Her freed limbs would no doubt be in agony for a while.

  “Hush,” he told her, gently lowering her shaking body onto the lush blanket.

  Molly collapsed against it, her limbs exploring their new-found freedom tentatively. He knelt down beside her trembling body, capturing her chin with one long finger.

  “Are you going to be a good girl, or do I need to chain you?” His voice was like a seductive purr, and her wide eyes darted toward him. Gagged, she obviously couldn’t reply, but her head shook violently in response. It occurred to him at that moment that even though her hands were freed, she hadn’t even tried to remove her gag. He felt absurdly proud of her at the realization. Maybe the cage really had made her contrite this time.

  Connor’s palm slid from her chin to the evil-looking metal at her mouth. “Let’s remove this, shall we?”

  Now she was nodding and the tears were already flowing. Without moving her, Connor tugged at the buckle at the back of her head, slowly releasing the clasp to liberate her mouth. As he pulled the gag from her body, Molly’s hands rose to her jaw. A low sob caught in her throat.

  “Oh, my God…”

  The words were like a trail of fire, burning him as they fell from her lips. Connor couldn’t tell if it was pity or arousal which hummed loudest within him at that moment.

  “Rest,” he told her. “That is not a suggestion.”

  Frightened blue eyes rose to meet his, or maybe it wasn’t fear, maybe it was only trauma. She’d been in the cage a long time, and he knew it would take at least that long for her to recover. He strode to the open cupboard, selecting a second, equally snug-looking blanket. Returning to the quivering pet, he covered her nudity and sat on the spanking bench nearby. Connor watched the tears flow for a few moments, conscious suddenly of how dehydrated she must be.

  “You can answer my question now,” he began softly. “Are you going to be good, kitten?”

  Molly’s lips parted, and he watched as she closed them again, swallowing hard for the first time in hours. “I’ll be good,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. She sounded weary, desperate. Punished.

  “I hope so,” he told her as he rose from the bench. “Because you know what will happen to you when you disobey me, don’t you?”

  She nodded slowly, the motion in her neck apparently painful. “Yes, Master.”

  He surveyed her form swathed in the blanket and walked quickly to the nearby refrigerator. As bright light spilled over the dark tiles, he turned to see his pet. She hadn’t moved a muscle. Grabbing the bottled water, and one of those high-energy bars from the shelf, he swung the door closed and returned to her, crouching by the side of her face.

  “You need to drink,” his tone was conversational, but it wasn’t a request.

  “I can’t sit, Master,” she sobbed. “Everything hurts.”

  Connor’s cock sprung into life at the sound of her plea, but he ignored its insistent pulsing. “You’re dehydrated,” he continued. “You have to drink, pet.” He placed the items down on the tile beside him as he shifted to his knees and reached for her. “Here, let me help you.”

  Her face flinched a little as he approached, but she didn’t try to resist. Probably she was just too exhausted. Connor seized the opportunity though, cupping the back of her head and drawing the weight of her body north toward him.

  “Oh, fuck,” she spluttered as he brought her to a sitting position. “Please, stop!”

  “Shhh,” he soothed her. “You have to move. I’ll help you take the strain for now, until your strength returns. The pain will go in time.”

  She laughed dryly. “No, Master,” she mumbled. “This pain will never go.”

  Their gazes locked for a moment. There was a flare of defiant strength in those beautiful eyes, and Connor smiled at the sight. There was his girl; his pet, she was still there, after all.

  “It will,” he assured her. “But if the memory lingers, then good. It will serve its purpose, my little pet.”

  “Its purpose?” She sounded weary with exasperation.

  “Mmmm, yes.”

  “To keep me in my place?” she queried, her tone quiet despite the willful implication in her words.

  “Smart girl,” he told her, petting her hair as she sat beside him. “You are learning. Now drink.”

  Connor lifted the bottle, opening the sports cap and holding it out for his pet. Taking a deep breath, she leaned for it, parting her lips and suckling on the cold water. He had an idea how good that must taste after so many hours with no refreshment at all. She drained most of the bottle at that first sitting, but he sat with her while she rested between drinks, feeding her chunks of the cereal bar from his hand.

  “Good, kitten,” he murmured as she finished the last of the water, her dark lashes lowering at his compliment. “Now you rest, get some sleep. I’ll be here waiting when you’re stronger.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Pain pounded with dull regularity, exploding occasionally somewhere on her body as she flexed a muscle, or moved a joint. She knew she was breathing, and she had enjoyed the cold water and food, even if he’d more or less forced the carbs past her lips. It had been hours since she’d last eaten, maybe days, and she knew on some level she was hungry. She supposed that she was grateful for the nourishment, but beyond that nothing else was clear. Connor had helped her lay back down against the soft blanket beneath her flesh, and Molly watched as he sat on the spanking bench, firing up the laptop.

  She tried to focus for a moment, her brows knitting as she struggled to recall even the most basic information. How long had she been here now? How long since the signing? With a sigh of resignation Molly realized that she had no clue. All there was now was Connor, the pain and the exhaustion.

  It didn’t take long for sleep to come, and when it did, it landed on her like a wall. Obliterating the dim light in the basement, her lids fell shut and Molly gave herself to the freedom of slumber. In sleep there was some peace, some seclusion; some freedom from the pain. Her dreams were punctuated by fear and fury. Someone was chasing her, but somehow, she could never identify the face of oppressor. Was it Connor lurking in the shadows, following her through the darkness? Or, was it one of the many dark heroes she had penned over the last five years? There had been dozens of them, each as slick, twisted and handsome as the next, and twice as devious. In her sleep, the reality dawned on her. Connor was the perfect personification of those men. He was intelligent, determined, scarily strong, and devastatingly gorgeous. And of course, he was also an absolute sadist, a guy who not only enjoyed inflicting pain on Molly, but also, and she sensed more importantly, got off on her complete and utter denigration. That’s why he kept her as a pet, leashing and caging her, keeping her in her place.

  The dreams took on a new and even more disturbing quality. She could feel hands touching her, clawing at her nudity before their digits shifted to soft trails and caresses. Molly’s mind lurched from one sensation to the next. She hated being pawed at, handled as though she was nothing but broken meat, and yet the softer touches made her moan and writhe, her body coming to life underneath the unknown fingers. Squirming in the darkness, she struggled to take another breath. The hands had moved impossibly fast, in that way they can in dreams, and now they were at her neck. Around her throat.

  I
can’t breathe.

  The thought flittered through her mind as the digits applied pressure.

  Please, I can’t breathe!

  Still the weight of the fingers tightened against her neck, slowly limiting Molly’s air supply. Panic whipped through her brain, forcing adrenaline to fill her blood, but still, it wasn’t enough. Molly just wasn’t strong enough to take another breath.

  Her mouth opened, her jaw still aching, a legacy of the cruel dental gag. “Please, no!” She was calling out now, but her voice was barely even a whisper. Inaudible. “Please.”

  She drew in as much air as she could muster and screamed, propelling the breath out for everything she was worth. The sound of her agony resounded in her ears, the noise forcing her heavy lids open; waking her from her slumber.

  Connor’s face appeared in her line of sight, his proximity making her flinch. “What’s wrong?” he demanded, his expression visibly shaken.

  What’s wrong? She wanted to laugh. The man who had taken her, done this to her, reduced her to this. He wanted to know what was wrong? It was so absurd. Yet there it was. He was there, apparent concern etched into his irritatingly handsome features.

  “Bad dream,” she sighed, wincing as she tried to change position.

  Fresh shoots of pain screamed in her hips and knees, but her eyes were so heavy, all she wanted to do was close them again. As her lids flickered shut, she felt the touch of his hand at her cheek.

  “Still tired, pet?” he probed.

  The sound of his voice was tender, but there was an edge to it.

  There was nearly always an edge with Connor.

  “I am so tired… Master.” She added the final word against her better judgment. Molly may not know the man that well, but she knew him well enough to know what he wanted to hear.

  As she peeled her eyes open again, she caught sight of his expression. It was ferocious, as usual, spearing her with an intensity she wasn’t prepared for.