Enchained

by Chris Lange

  “I lied when I said I didn’t want anything from you.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “The fact is I’m very attracted to you.”

  “You see, there are other ways to seduce a woman.” Perceiving his admission had been a hardship, Jany tried to keep laughter off her voice. “Like approaching me. Maybe inviting me to dinner. You know, the usual. I assure you, most of the time it works.”

  “You don’t understand.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to touch you. I can’t…” He seemed to be looking for words. “I can’t be inside you.”

  Does he take me for the Virgin Mary? That would be a first. Damn it, is he a eunuch? Can’t he get it up?

  Although his words could be easily misinterpreted, she knew he wasn’t being harsh on her. She also sensed they were going straight to the wall if she didn’t act. Besides, his velvety voice was working its mojo on her, and she wanted him. I might regret this later, but to hell with his ugly face. Holding on to the fierce green gaze, she came up to him.

  “That’s too bad because I’m gonna unbuckle your belt now.” Closing in on him, she paused inches from his tall body. “And if you want me to stop, you’re gonna have to make me.”

  Chapter Eight

  Her hand hadn’t yet reached his belt when Jany noted the front of his jeans pushing outward. So he could get it up. As she unfastened the buckle, a gloved hand gripped hers. She raised her face to see the white mask moving left to right.

  “I won’t do this.” His deep voice rumbled.

  Her spine tingled. Regardless of his assertion, his obvious desire swept away her last reservations. Hand held but within stroking distance, Jany gave in to the irresistible impulse bidding her to devour the forbidden fruit. Or to be devoured. Pulling her hand free, she threw her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his.

  He seemed to be hit by a jolt of electricity. He shivered, wavered for a second, then seized her fiercely. An urgent, aching moan filtered through the mask as he crushed her body on his chest. Arms around her, his grip was powerful, almost painful.

  Encased in his tight embrace, she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t control the erratic flow of her pulse. She felt his heart beating, drumming against her cleavage. Standing on tiptoe, she brushed past his mask to bury her head in his neck, eliciting another poignant moan.

  His profound cry from the heart moved her. He was holding on to her as if he needed to be rescued, as if she was an anchor in a raging, dissevered ocean. An unexpected emotion gripped her throat, wrenched her stomach, and weakened her legs. For a shattering moment, they clung to each other.

  He released her only to slide down in a slow motion. Timid hands outlined her figure, nervous fingers delineated her breasts, her waist, her hips. Without a word, he knelt. When he raised his head, his intense gaze pierced her heart.

  “Close your eyes.” He murmured.

  The mesmerizing stare felt like an urgent plea, a fervent prayer for safekeeping and salvation. He was going to remove his mask, and he was placing his trust in her. She closed her eyes.

  Once more, she heard a slight, shifting sound. In the silent bunker, life seemed to forfeit its clutch on reality. Nestling between her thighs, a warm mouth drew her lips in, gently licking them, nibbling, nipping.

  Opening up like a sunflower in July, Jany sighed when his mouth licked her, when his tongue lapped its way into her. Her blood bounded in her veins, connected to the rushing sensations dizzying her. Eyes shut, she swayed from side to side, immersed in the steady beat of his staggering tongue.

  She wanted to open her eyes; she longed to look upon the unmasked man. Yet they had a tacit understanding, an implied promise she was reluctant to break. Her lids rippled.

  Jany girl, you’re such a hypocrite. You won’t open your eyes because you’re scared shitless of ruining one of the best moments of your life, because you’re terrified of what you might see, because you will cower and shut down if he’s not what you expect. You know you have it in you, but this is no effing game, so don’t fuck around. You think you’re brave, but you’re just pathetic.

  She sealed her lids tight. His hands on her thighs, she felt his tongue move back to find her clitoris. As he caressed and licked, a surge of pleasure rocked her, quelling her fears. Even in the way he sucked her, she sensed thoughtfulness and respect. At that precise instant, she craved his touch and strength. She yearned for his love inside her needy body.

  Eyes closed, she rested her hands on his head. Soft hair tickled her fingers, and his darting tongue slowed. The sudden change of rhythm spurred another burst of pleasure, driving her heartbeat wild.

  She had to catch her breath before expressing her desire. “Put your mask on.”

  The avid licking stopped. His hands left her thighs; then she heard the same noise as he concealed his face. Even though Jany figured he didn’t know what to expect, he respected her wish.

  At last opening her eyes, the sight of the familiar white mask gave her comfort. Still, she wondered about his feelings. Was he disconcerted? Relieved? Annoyed? When he stood up, she took his hands in hers. Walking backward, she led him to the bed.

  Facing each other, he let her unbuckle his belt. His jeans and underwear fell down without any reaction on his part. But as she twisted her fingers around the top button of his shirt, his eyes seemed to burn through her mind. He grabbed her by the shoulders.

  “No.”

  So she slid her hands down his shirt, feeling firm muscles and warm skin underneath the thin fabric. Down she went in a slow motion, her light fingers encircling his hard-on, enclasping it.

  He gasped. Jolted, electrified, his erection stiffened like iron. His hands on her shoulders, they stared at each other, his heavy breathing muffled by the mask. As she relinquished her grip on him, he turned her around in a swift move. A slight pressure on her back, and she bent over, hands on the mattress to catch her balance.

  Dear God, he’s gonna do it.

  Breath caught in her throat, pulse pounding in her ears, stomach cramped from anticipation, she stretched her legs and stuck her butt out. Offering him her most intimate part, she tensed. Dear God, he’s gonna do it!

  He pushed his cock into her. Seizing her thighs, he penetrated her in one go. She was so ready for him, he just sank in. As their bodies connected, his harsh grunt enfolded her irrepressible moan of pleasure. Then he moved.

  Nails digging into the mattress, she huffed when he withdrew only to plunge into her again. Tightening his grip on her thighs, his unequivocal tension exalted her, his cock inflamed her, his passionate stabs robbed her of rationality. Unable to restrain her excitement, she started whimpering as he brought her to him again and again.

  As if her cries struck a chord in his heart, he rammed into her. After that, all heaven broke loose. Grabbing her waist, he ravished her. His quick, powerful thrusts sent her mind reeling. His rapid, violent shoves had her teetering on the brink of orgasm. His heart-bleeding, raw grunts pushed her over the edge. Crying out, she climaxed full force, feeling his cock buried in her, feeling his body trembling from the ferocity of his own pleasure.

  Panting and sweating, flesh into flesh, they slowly came back to themselves. She loosened her hold on the sheet. He withdrew.

  Slumping on the mattress, head down from weakness, she attempted to structure her scattered thoughts. So many things she wanted to tell him, to hear from him, to share with him. Distraught but not lost in the workings of her mind, she realized their lovemaking had changed everything. Now more than ever, she had to talk to him.

  When she heard the sound of his jeans being clumsily pulled up, she raised her head. A little confused, not quite out of the bliss he had given her, she wavered. Before she had time to keep him by her side, he was out the door.

  He fled.

  Chapter Nine

  Jany dragged herself to the shower. Inside, she turned on the water and sat on the white, stainless surface. Legs drawn in to her breasts, arms around her knees, head restin
g on her kneecaps, cool plastic under her buttocks, water cascading down on her hair and back, she withdrew into herself.

  I’m in deep shit. Way shittier than I ever was with Billy. Gosh, if you weren’t such a nerd, Billy, I’d miss you. Okay, you’re boring, but with you at least, I know where I stand. What now? What should I do? That guy is a real person with real feelings. Dear God, I need a little help here.

  She wasn’t fooled. Although he had jumped her bones pretty roughly, what they had just shared couldn’t be called sex. Not in a million years. Like two souls in desperate need of a haven, they had made love. Real love.

  Out of the blue, Jany was reminded of a true story she had read a long time ago about a woman who had fallen in love with her abductor. Not only had the psychopath kidnapped, beaten, and raped her, but he had held her prisoner for weeks before she was finally rescued by the police. As unconceivable as it sounded, the woman had claimed to be in love with him.

  There’s a name for that, the what-do-you-call-it syndrome. Well, screw you damn syndrome, I don’t wanna be that woman. Do you hear me? I don’t want to and I won’t. Oh yeah, it was all nice and easy for her. She knew the face of her tormentor. Mine is wearing a freaking mask. Sure, she got a bit roughed up around the edges, but so what? She got rescued, didn’t she? She got her happy ending, didn’t she?

  Unlike the tortured woman from the true story, Jany had been treated with respect and kindness, the recent lovemaking being an obvious conclusion to her non-victim condition. Water raining down on her, she closed her eyes and squeezed her knees, gently rocking back and forth.

  He’s not a psychopath. For God’s sake, he’s just a loser probably stranded by his lousy girlfriend, and now he’s unable to ask someone else out. I bet women scare the shit out of him, so he goes to buy sex toys and blindfolds thinking it’s an awesome way to score. It kinda sets him apart, doesn’t it? But what if I’m wrong? What if he’s no oil painting under that frigging mask?

  Eyes shut, lips pursed, she recalled his hands gripping her waist, his powerful thrusts inside her body, his impelling grunts as he wrung unrivalled pleasure out of her. An unsettling image, a distressing sensation that her mind couldn’t yet process with any kind of efficiency. Hunkered down, rubbing her hands on the length of her arms, Jany started crying.

  Why can’t I be happy, carefree Cinderella? One thing’s for sure, I wouldn’t be trapped in that bunker. I’d be smiling, dancing in a beautiful clearing, singing my head off, waiting for Prince Charming. That’s what life is about, isn’t it? Birds, songs, Goldilocks, and the Seven Dwarfs. Maybe if I stay in the shower long enough, an unmasked Prince Charming will break the door down to ravish me out of this basement. Then he’ll kiss me, and we’ll live happily ever.

  Her tears dried out. Jerked out of her daydream by a startling thought, Jany’s eyes flew open. A kiss? Standing up, she realized she had never had sex before without kissing her partner. How was that for a revelation? A tune began spinning round her mind, an old Meat Loaf song, the lyrics coming back to her as she started humming ‘A kiss is a terrible thing to waste’.

  Grabbing the bar of soap, she set about washing her body. Getting out of the shower, she shook her head, dried her hair as best she could, wrapped the bath towel around her, and jumped on the bed.

  How come I didn’t think of the towel before? Sure as hell, it doesn’t look like a ball gown, but I wouldn’t have been so naked. Has my common sense gone AWOL? Am I losing my marbles? Am I that desperate to display myself? For Christ’s sake, I’m not a cheerleader anymore.

  Whatever. The headphones lying by the pillow, she considered passing time with music in her ears, but the thought of listening to all of her favorite ballads didn’t appeal to her. The mystery novel felt like a better shot. Head cocked, she was bending to retrieve the book when she saw it. The basement door was ajar.

  Her heart missed a few beats. She must be having hallucinations because no other explanation made sense. Transfixed, she stared at the door, waiting for him to push it open, waiting for the mirage to be dispelled. She remained in that frozen posture until her heart rebooted, her stomach unclenched, and air rushed out of her lungs. Inhaling, focusing, Jany regarded the enigma with clear, unbiased eyes. The door was ajar.

  Okay. Don’t fret, Jany girl. He’s gonna push that door in a second. He has to; he’s never left it open before.

  She sat on the edge of the bed. Nothing happened. Only a drip from the shower, the soft sound of her fingers crumpling the sheet, the loud thumping of her heart. What now?

  Then again, he left in such a hurry he might have overlooked the door. Have to say, that was one hell of a session.

  She got up. Moving quietly, she went to the door. Nobody seemed to be standing outside. Edgy fingers on the handle, she poked her head round the door. An empty, lit stairway stared back at her. The way looked clear. Still half-in, half-out, she hesitated.

  What’s the risk? Getting caught? Even so, you know he won’t hurt you. This is your chance. Go for it!

  Unless the risk had never been about getting caught. Unless it now came down to not getting caught. What then? Walk out the front door, run to the nearest populated area, get in a taxi, reach home safe and sound wearing nothing but a towel. Out of the basement, out of the house, and free. Yet freedom also meant never seeing him again.

  Come on, girl. You’re turning into a real drama queen here. Enough of that schmaltzy crap. Just because he rocked your world doesn’t mean he’s your soul mate. Get a grip, would you?

  Taking a hushed breath, Jany got out of the basement. Step by step, crouching, she worked her way up. Thanking the heavens the stairs didn’t creak, she squatted on the landing. Ears pricked, fearful the beating of her heart would muffle noises, Jany observed her surroundings.

  Straight ahead, about thirty feet away, the front door looked ominous. Between there and Jany, two doors on the right stood closed. Bedroom? Living room? Kitchen? He could come out of there anytime. The longer she waited, the easier for him to stumble upon her and drag her back downstairs.

  On the left side, the nearest door was open. Before making a run for freedom, she had to make sure he wasn’t in that room. With stealth and a little bit of luck, she felt confident she was about to hit the jackpot. Standing up, shoulders hunched, she inched her way forward. Caution foremost in her mind, she almost made it to mid-landing. The front door appeared so close she might have touched the handle.

  Then she heard it. As she took another step, the distinctive sound of running water reached her ears. Heart messing with her sense of hearing, she halted. The masked man was in that room, and he wasn’t going to spend the next few hours in there. If she didn’t act fast, he would lock her up again.

  Which way? The basement or the front door? I’ll never make it outside, not if I have to go past him. Downstairs is much safer. I’ll just have to bide my time, but downstairs is a way more sensible option.

  Jany crept forward. Catching her breath, enraptured by the gurgling water, she stopped by the door frame. He believed himself to be alone; he must have removed the mask. Repressing a shiver, she realized she wanted to see his face. She needed to see his face. She squatted. Keeping her head as low as possible, she peeked into the room.

  Still barefoot, his back to her, he was standing in front of the bathroom sink. Except for a small, bright light above the mirror, the room lay pretty much in shadows. Still, Jany could view most of the bathroom. Glancing up, she saw the brown shirt and the dark hair without the elastic black band holding the mask in place. Then she looked directly into the mirror. Head tilted to the other side, foam on his cheek and chin, he was shaving.

  Fully revealed, the green eyes pierced her heart. In them, she could sense pain, loneliness, and despair. Yet they weren’t seeing her. Focused on the movement of the blade, the mesmerizing gaze seemed a world away. Stroke after stroke, the unmasked face appeared in the mirror.

  Crouching in the shadows, Jany barely suppressed a cry of surprise.
Eyes wide open, riveted to the naked face, she discovered the most handsome man she had ever seen. Stunned, drained of strength and sense, her mind unable to understand what her eyes were seeing, she froze.

  Holy shit, this is impossible! I don’t get it, I can’t get it. What the heck is going on here? The guy’s a freaking hottie. He’s a dream stud. My God, he’s so gorgeous I could eat him up. Wait a minute, I kinda did. Wish I had taken the mask off sooner. Oh boy, I’m gonna pass out. Did I really make love with Mister Hunky here? Wow! Call me Daisy and spank me! On second thought, I think I’m gonna stick around for a while. I might even chain myself up in that cozy basement. What on earth was I afraid of?

  Cheek fresh and smooth, he tilted his head to the other side. The right side of his face invaded the mirror, and Jany recoiled in horror. She fled.

  Chapter Ten

  Sprawled on the bed, flat on her belly, head buried under the pillow, Jany let out the terrible disappointment clutching her chest. Although she had been preparing herself for the worst, deep in her heart she’d had hoped for the best. Eyes squeezed to drive off the nightmarish vision, legs kicking the mattress, arms clenching the pillow over her head, she cursed the day vanity had taken over her sensibility.

  But she hadn’t been dreaming. She had seen the ghastly face in the mirror, and no amount of eye-squashing would make reality go away. Because she had witnessed the deep, puffy scars covering the right side of his head, crisscrossing his entire cheek, slashing half of his chin. They must be knife injuries; however, they looked more like trenches than gashes. How could she ever get rid of that dreadful sight? The face of a monster.

  Yet in the middle of her shocked and jumbled thoughts, a truth showed its own monstrous face: where had her compassion and sympathy gone? Had she lost them during her teenage years when her world revolved around cheerleading and being popular? Had she ever had them in the first place?