Enchained

by Chris Lange

  Holding his gaze, she expressed her desire. “Touch me.”

  For a second, he remained motionless. Then he moved, and she repressed a cry. Hands on her breasts, he rubbed her nipples with his gloved palms, his slow, burning circles making her want to touch him. When he pinched her nipples, she felt like grabbing the part of him she now craved.

  He pinched them, he stroked them, he twirled them. She sighed, she hissed, she moaned. She’d never felt that way. As he silently squeezed her nipples, her body yearned for more, for a deliverance that had nothing to do with locks and chains. She closed her eyes.

  The delicious sensations abated, and she experienced his hands over her body, her belly, her hips, her thighs. Arousing as his caresses were, the cold gloves felt wrong. She hungered for the touch of his warm skin inside her, the touch of him. She opened her eyes.

  “Take off the gloves.”

  The motion of his hands ceased. Arms dangling, he looked at her before taking a step back.

  What now? Did I say something wrong? Well, what did you expect, pal? You can’t kidnap a woman and assume she’ll just shut up. You can’t turn her on and have it your way. That’s not in the book.

  Whatever he had assumed, he’d made his mind up. He killed the movie. A short trip to the kinky cupboard, and he raised a blindfold before her eyes. The sight of the black fabric sent her pulse wild. Without the slightest hesitation, she nodded. He tied the blindfold tightly around her head.

  You really don’t want me to see you, do you? Not even your hands. Why? For the love of God, why?

  Shrouded in darkness, Jany heard a distinctive plastic sound. He was taking the gloves off. After that, she only listened to the thudding of her heart as the invisible man touched her. Warm skin on her pussy. Lively fingers cuddling her lips, breaking them open, ferreting out her clitoris, fondling it until her moans changed to deep-throated cries.

  “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.”

  Abruptly, the fingers left her. The wild sensations faded. Blindfolded and helpless, Jany stopped breathing.

  Chapter Six

  She thought she heard a sound, like a quick, shifting noise. Body tensed, hands balled into fists, legs taut, she felt at a loss. What was going on? Why had he stopped? What was coming?

  Two hands began stroking her thighs. Up and down, the gentle caresses on her skin made her legs quiver. Her body relaxing, she relished the soft grazing, the exciting touch aiming for the heart of her bush. Mouth dry, pussy wet, she moaned again when he applied pressure on it.

  As fast as they had faded, the torrid sensations she had experienced rushed back, fiercer and deeper. This time, he inserted a finger in her. She jerked from the amazing feeling, astounded by the force of her reaction, unable to bear the pleasure he was giving her.

  He wouldn’t fool her though. His finger had nothing to do with her burst of joy; his tongue had. He had penetrated her with his tongue, and he was licking her core.

  He had removed his mask.

  The thought of his nameless face buried in her fanny made her skin tingle. The foraying tongue set her ablaze; the sucking mouth liquefied her. She felt like an ice cream under a scorching July Nevada sun. Her insides melted. Everything she was dissolved into a single point of her body. Nothing else existed but the torturing fire he was fueling with his mouth.

  When his tongue reached her clit, she yanked on the metal rings. The chains jangled, deadening her unbridled yell. The fiddling tongue seared her oversensitive flesh, breaking her apart, propelling her mind into a world of ecstasy. Manacles biting her skin, head rocking, face contorted, her whole body taut as a bow, she let out a long, gut-wrenching wail.

  A sweet-and-sour smell abruptly reached her nose. A sudden emptiness between her thighs, and she felt a presence beside her face. A finger stroked her cheek, a light touch caressed her lips, blossoming fragrances nuzzling up around her. Her scent on his mouth? Then a warm breath against her cheek and a whisper in her ear.

  “Come for me.”

  Blind, she wondered if he observed her features strained with pleasure. Then she heard a shifting noise again, and she stopped wondering because between her thighs, the fire raged anew. Relentless and nerve-shattering, the sweet, abrasive tongue snapped her up, snared her, enslaved her. The heavy, easy strokes bowled her over, hurled her to the edge of herself. She came. Quick, violent spasms ripped her body, drawing forcible wails out of her. The chains rattled in unison, tugged by her twitching limbs.

  Life rushed back, yet she couldn’t think; she couldn’t breathe. Totally drained, she barely felt a touch on the back of her head. A harsh light stung her eyes as the blindfold fell off. She blinked. A faint ache toyed with her wrists and ankles as the manacles came off. She sagged.

  White mask secured on his face, the silent man helped her to the bed. Around her waist, his arm felt solid and hard. She collapsed on the mattress, the soft sheet welcoming her exhausted body. Breathing hard, she watched her tormentor go for the little jar of Vaseline.

  Sitting by her side, he greased the skin that had turned red. He rubbed her ankles and wrists, his gloved fingers light and gentle. As he applied the last touch, Jany placed an impulsive hand on his forearm, enjoying the mellowy feeling of his shirt.

  “What do you want?”

  He slowly removed his arm to put the cap back on the jar. Getting up, he gave her a long, unfathomable look before replacing the jar on the shelf and walking to the door. He opened it, his back to her, and stepped out. The lock was already clicking into place when Jany realized he had spoken to her.

  “I don’t want anything.”

  Shocked, she propped up the pillow and sat up. She hadn’t expected him to finally answer her question. Now he was gone before she could attempt to start a conversation. Relaxing, her body relieved from tension, Jany pondered on the words she had managed to extract from him.

  You lying shit! You do want something, I just don’t know what it is yet. But give me time, and you’ll see.

  The guy was a lying shit all right, but one who had the power to turn her inside out. Recalling the violent sensations he had ignited in her, a new heat wave threatened to take possession of her body. In Jany’s vocabulary, the word “awesome” sounded damn feeble compared to the shattering sensation she had experienced at his hands and tongue.

  He’d enjoyed giving her pleasure without asking for anything in return. Unfortunately for him, Jany didn’t believe in selfless acts, least of all since she had happened to see the bulge in his jeans. When he had brought the jar back to soothe her skin, the unforeseen protuberance had caught her eye. Even if he wouldn’t acknowledge the fact, her cries of raw pleasure had turned him on. He wasn’t an asexual entity after all. He was a man.

  Upstairs, a door banged. Had he gone out? Had he left her alone? Or was he playing a practical joke on her?

  Jany got up. First, she checked the basement door. No luck there. She tried the television but only got a snowy, crackly screen. Turning the water on, she stepped into the shower.

  She knew the sound of his voice now. Low-pitched and smooth. He hadn’t talked much, yet enough for her to know he was a complete stranger. She had a good ear for music. If she had met him before, his voice would have rung a bell. No bell, no alarm, no recognition.

  Water drenching her body, Jany closed her eyes. Something was happening to her. She had felt the first nudges; she had repelled them to the back of her mind. Although sheltered, warm, fed, and taken care of, she couldn’t afford the luxury of indulging in denial. She was having feelings for a ghost. For a faceless man who had kidnapped and chained her.

  Oh boy, that can’t be possible! How did this happen? How could I let it happen? Goddammit, I wanna wake up. I wanna die.

  Water pelting down on her, she pressed the sides of the shower cubicle and let out a long whine of despair. She stayed in the same position for a while, conflicting thoughts seething and churning in her mind, vibrant emotions raking her heart.

  He will take off
the mask. At some point, he has to. What if his face makes me wanna puke? What if it scares the hell out of me? What do I do then? Turn round and say ‘Thanks a lot, pal. That was fun, but I gotta dash now. See you around.’

  Jany stopped the water. Sooner or later, she would have to get out of the shower. Once dry, she looked around for her clothes, operating on automatic pilot. Sighing, she went to the high bookshelf separating her “bedroom” from her “torture chamber.” Ignoring the blue dolphin, she browsed through the collection for items of interest. She needed to take her mind off the masked man.

  By some extraordinary coincidence, her favorite books were lined up on one of the shelves. Right now, she wasn’t in the mood for anything familiar. Looking down, she picked up a thriller. The cover featured a running woman, face contorted in fear, chased by a man holding a gun.

  Run, lady, run, but don’t be scared. You’ve seen his face. There’s nothing to be afraid of, lucky you.

  Book in hand, Jany squatted. The lower shelf was devoted to music. Along with an MP3 player and headphones, dozens of compact discs lined the shelf. Without the energy to look through them, she just grabbed the MP3 player and went back to the bed. Propped up against the pillow, bedspread over her legs, she opened the thriller. Come on, running lady, humor me.

  Fourteen chapters later, and in spite of a great love story, the words seemed to jump out of the book. She let the novel fall on the carpet and put the headphones on her head. The first song was on the top ten list of her favorite ballads. Yet another coincidence? Hey, what are the odds? Sure, my friend. Take me for an idiot while you’re at it.

  Jany kicked the bedspread away. The heat must be pretty intense outside because it was getting hot in here. Lying down, she closed her eyes to listen to Bon Jovi’s “Bed of Roses.”

  A caress on her cheek woke her up. Eyes flying open, she saw his tall shape looming over her, his white mask hiding the face she now longed to see, the face she feared so much. He stepped back quickly and with a nod indicated the tray on the coffee table.

  She took the headphones off and sat on the edge of the bed. Her stomach leaped with joy at the sight of the beautiful plate. He had cooked different types of pasta in a rich, creamy sauce, sprinkled with grated cheese. Delicious aromas floating around, she realized hunger was gnawing at her. How long had she napped? What time could it be?

  “What time is it?”

  Picking up the fork, she dived into her meal, the first mouthful almost causing her to sigh. Absorbed as she was by the wonderful food, she still wasn’t about to let him build a wall of silence around him.

  “I know you can talk. I believe I asked for the time.”

  Refusing to raise her head, she focused on her plate. Admitting to herself that she had never tasted anything so good, Jany let him brood while she ate her pasta with great enthusiasm. Only then did she notice he was barefoot. Definitely a hot day. He had two feet, ten toes, ten toenails, the whole usual package attached to his ankles.

  “Nineteen hundred hours.”

  Although he talked like a regular G.I. Joe, she had goose bumps when she heard the velvety voice. Her appetite now gone for a ride, she sensed an opportunity, a breach in his bunker of silence and loneliness. Dropping the fork, she stood up slowly. Head high, fists on hips, breasts out, she challenged him.

  “Look at me!”

  Chapter Seven

  Behind the mask, the green eyes stabbed her, yet she could tell he was having a hard time avoiding her naked body. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. She took a step toward him. He stepped back.

  “Talk to me.” Keeping her voice leveled, she squared her shoulders. “I’ve had enough of this little hide-and-seek game of yours. I want an explanation now. You owe me one.”

  “Didn’t you enjoy it?”

  That low-pitched voice was so arousing that Jany had difficulty stifling a burst of desire. The velvety tune sounded like the feel of a fleece jacket on a winter’s night. Holy Jesus and all his saints, he’s talking. The guy is talking! Good work, Jany girl. Keep it up. Don’t falter now.

  “That’s not the point. The point is: why am I here? I know you planned all this….” Her gaze encompassed the room before coming back to him… “So don’t tell me you went through all that trouble just to give me orgasms.”

  He flinched. Not much, barely a slight shifting, but he flinched. She heard him sigh, but no words came out of his mouth. If she didn’t high-pressure him now, she would blow her chances for good. She took another slow step toward the masked man.

  “You know what?” She pointed at the metallic chains. “When I woke up in there yesterday, I mistook you for a friend of mine. Hey, don’t get me wrong. I’m not a big fan of the guy, but I wish I had been right. ‘Cause right now, I’d be dressed, blissfully alone, and safe in my house.”

  “Right now, you’d be dead.”

  What? Why dead? What’s he talking about? Is he trying to upset me? Is he making fun of me?

  “You’re a funny guy, aren’t you?” Jany’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Is it a new game? I hope you didn’t waste your day devising it because I’m not interested. Actually, I’m so not in a playful mood at the moment. I think you should watch your tongue.”

  She regretted her words as soon as they came out of her mouth. The reference to the way he used his tongue didn’t escape his notice either because he briefly clenched his gloved fingers.

  Without warning, vivid sensations gripped her. Reminded of his provocative tongue, desire shot through her, hardening her nipples, tightening her belly. This can’t go on. Get a grip on yourself, girl, ‘cause right now you’re just a horny bitch. Look at him. He’s nothing but an ugly bastard.

  Oh yeah? Honestly? But if she considered him a “good guy,” how was she to fight her natural instincts? To refrain her immoderate lust for her captor? How was she supposed to tell her body to shut the fuck up? Was there a psychology textbook available on Amazon.com?

  He gestured to the chains. When he opened his mouth, the worst part was that he sounded sincere. “This device isn’t meant for you. I thought you might find it interesting, but I’m not playing.”

  Although the white mask concealed his expression, Jany knew he didn’t belong to the frolicking kind. No, not that guy.

  “Aren’t you? Then tell me the truth.” The outset of a smirk lifted her upper lip. “Because so far, all I’ve seen of you makes me think of a sex maniac.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “Sure, I am.” The smirk on her face deepened into a scorn. “Prove it. Come on. Convince me I’m here for a reason. I mean, apart from testing your sex toys.”

  “I’m saving your life.”

  He was unbelievable. That was just pure wishful thinking on his part as her life didn’t need saving. From what? From whom?

  “By keeping me chained up and naked?”

  This guy must have the hots for her, so he had concocted a mystery story to back up his lack of courage. He had probably seen her in the street, felt attracted her, but never dared ask her out. As a result, he had kidnapped her. What a lot of guts that must have taken.

  Then he had put a mask on to spur her curiosity. If she could lift it off, even for a second, she felt certain she would see a regular guy. Probably not a Brad Pitt lookalike but regular. Was he aware of the consequences of his actions, or did he believe his own crap?

  “You have to stay here, it’s a…”

  He didn’t finish his sentence. Instead he stood there, his intense gaze burning her bare skin, her naked heart.

  “A what?”

  Silence settled between them. Not a wall yet but a strong barrier. Conscious they were tearing down whatever connection they had begun to build, Jany went for the oldest trick in the world.

  “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t desire me.”

  Stiff as a lamppost, he strode to the basement door as if she had slapped him or humiliated him. He was running away, and she had lost, for now. She called out
to him when she saw him grab the door handle.

  “Hey! If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like a coffee and my clothes.” Before he had time to vanish upstairs, she added as an afterthought. “Please.” Then the lock clicked.

  Bye Bye Birdie. Go, have a cold drink, cool yourself down. You can’t belt me, and you can’t get rid of me. I guess you’ll be back soon. Don’t worry, honey. I’ll be waiting. My patience knows no limit.

  Jany had time to finish her pasta, to find a comfortable position on the bed, and to read five more chapters before he came back. Eyes locked on page one hundred and eighty-seven, she listened to the soft shuffle of his bare feet on the carpet, to the tap of a coffee mug on the tray.

  No way I’m breaking the ice, pal. You have something to say to me, you act like a man. I’m reading my book.

  He moved out of her peripheral vision. Judging by sound, he hadn’t gone very far. Seconds ticked away, maybe a minute, and still not a word from him. Jany was staring so hard at page one hundred and eighty-seven, the words started knitting together. Knitting and weaving.

  “I brought you a coffee.”

  In a stupid, childish, teenage-like way, Jany’s heart collided with her ribcage. She raised her eyes to find him looking at her. He was leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed over his chest.

  “Oh, there you are.” She offered him a cute smile and casually put her book down. “Sorry, I didn’t see you come in.”

  “Who’s playing now?”

  Well said, big guy. Throwing her legs over the bed, she sat to enjoy her fresh coffee. Holding the mug with both hands, she took a few sips before engaging in probable hostilities.

  “Thanks for the coffee. Where are my clothes?”

  “Upstairs.”

  He could be so irritating at times. Banging the mug on the tray, she stood up to face him, not sure how this was going to end up. Before she could give him a piece of her mind, he uncrossed his arms, and raised a conciliatory, gloved hand.