by Jaden Wilkes
“What do you mean you can’t let me go?” she asked as her voice broke into a sob. “Why can’t you just get up and open the door and let me go home?” she asked again.
He took a step back from her body and examined her again. She was simply gorgeous and he clearly didn’t have it in him to kill her, but he couldn’t let her go. Perhaps he didn’t want to let her go. Letting her leave meant she would go on and live her life, have her freedom...fuck men and have a future that did not include him. He wasn’t ready to admit it to himself quite yet, but he simply could not let her go. He saw her as the reason for his self-awareness, and he wasn’t ready to let her slip away. He didn’t want to fall into that pit again, and thought she might be the one to help him stay out.
An idea began to germinate, a plan to keep her with him and still maintain his self-control. He would own her.
He spoke in a calm voice, as not to startle her with his decision, and said, “I have decided that you will stay with me. I have never had a pet, but I think I will make an exception for a girl like you.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked. “You want to make me your pet? To fuck me?”
“That’s not it exactly,” he said and moved beside her on the table. He himself was working out the terms of this arrangement as he spoke. “You need to earn your place in my household. You need to earn my cock. I won’t fuck you until you are begging for it.”
“But I won’t, I never will.” she exclaimed and tried to push herself up. “You just tried to kill me, how could I ever fuck you? How could I ever want you? I never, ever will.”
“I beg to differ, little dove. I could have killed you, but I didn’t. I chose to keep you alive and I am choosing to keep you with me,” he said and paused as his decision solidified in his own mind. It was done for him; he was never letting her go. He continued, “Once you realize that I could kill you at any moment and choose not to, you will be on your knees pleading for your life. After I am done playing with you, driving you mad with lust, you will beg me to fuck you. For now, I will leave you alone to think about your predicament,” he said, tightened her ropes, left her on the platform and turned to leave, “but guaranteed, one day you will beg for my cock.”
Chapter Twelve – Columbia
She sat in the darkness behind her blindfold and squeezed her eyes shut. Tears continued to flow in spite of her attempts to stop them. This lack of control was insane, she had endured years of abuse from her father, why was she so dangerously on the precipice in this situation? She felt as though she were standing at the edge of a great gulf of emotions, things she’d never felt before, things that terrified and fascinated her.
In losing control of her freedom to him, she had finally lost control of her tightly guarded emotions.
She sobbed until she felt she had nothing left. Her face felt slick with snot and she tried to wipe her cheek on her arm. She started to shiver, in spite of the room being a comfortable temperature. She thought it must be from her nerves, her fear.
She thought back to a self-defense course she had taken in grade ten. It was boring and covered a lot of the same things she’d heard a million times before, but she still remembered it. She would be ready the next time he came in; she would try to make her escape before he took more control of her.
She slept, as best she could on the hard chair. It was uncomfortable, built for design and not for sitting this long. Her head kept falling forward as well, jerking her awake into confused moments of panic.
Some time later she heard him unlock the door and come in the room. He walked to her side and was silent. She didn’t know what he was expecting, so she said nothing, waited for him to make a move.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
“I told you,” she replied.
“I went through your phone,” he said, “It’s not your phone, is it?”
“No, it’s not.”
“Who is he? Your boyfriend?” he demanded.
“No, I just met him,” she said.
“So he won’t care where you are, he’ll just want his phone back,” he said. “Does he work for me? I will leave it in the kitchen for him to find. He won’t think twice about you, he will be so grateful to have his phone and his job.”
She was silent, she knew this was true. Marco owed her nothing; she was nothing to him. Why would he think twice if she disappeared?
“I’ll take your silence as acknowledgement that nobody cares if you are here,” he said at last. She didn’t reply to this either, knowing her silence was speaking more than words could.
She didn't know how to answer any of his questions at this point, didn’t understand why he would think she was a killer. It didn’t matter though; he needed to be convinced to let her go. If she told him her name and he discovered she truly was a nobody, he would have no reason not to kill her. She wanted to survive so she could return home and rewrite her life. She would leave, take Eden with her. She would move in with Nan if she had to, but she knew her time being used by her father was done.
He finally approached her chair, sat opposite of her and she knew this was her moment to connect. He demanded her name but she refused, he punched her and terrified her, but she was resolute in her conviction. She would not crack. She would not let him find out she was a nothing, easy to kill and dispose of. She would not let him know how unimportant she was.
When he lifted her from the chair and slammed her onto a table, she was overwhelmed by his size, the pure raw animal strength he possessed. She was trembling but had gone into escape mode. She lay on the table and felt the sting of a whip on her tender stomach and yet she refused to tell him anything. She felt as though she were back home, suffering abuse at the hands of her father. She had endured this sort of physical attack hundreds of times since the moment he had moved into their lives; she knew how to handle it. Her mind retreated and she closed her eyes, able to endure.
Finally she thought he was ready to take her life, to cut her throat and end it. Her senses were on fire, each nerve ending alight with anticipation over her final moments. She cried out and tried to push him away, fought him as he held her down, gasped what she thought was going to be her last breaths.
But the captor didn’t kill her. She felt him tracing his finger along her skin, caressing her scars with the touch of a lover. Her body responded and she trembled, waiting to find out where they led.
He found her center, her clit. She had never been touched while so present in her body, so aware of her flesh. She was expecting death and instead found pleasure. He began to stroke her pussy, playing with her until she was near mad with lust and driven towards a crashing orgasm.
It would have been her first. The first with her mind fully present and aware of the sensations being wrought upon her body. Her body had betrayed her before, but her mind had always been able to flee until the act was over. She was ready to feel this though, to let every nerve ending explode as she reached the culmination of the intense sensations she was experiencing.
But he stopped. As she was ascending the peak of her most intense experience, the fucker pulled back and left her panting in the empty space. Humiliation slammed into her again and she withdrew back into herself.
Her mind was a maelstrom of emotions, she didn’t know if she wanted to die, or if she wanted to live. Did she want to run or did she want to come?
When she felt his hand around her throat, she fought as hard as she could, but somewhere deep inside she found a place of calm in the center of the storm. She wanted to live, her body reacted and she gouged and kicked him as much as she could, but her mind reached a state of serenity and time seemed to stand still. She didn’t think he would go through with it. She had nothing to base this assumption on, but she felt a strange nagging sensation that he would let her live. So she gave in, she allowed her body to go limp and she rode the waves of adrenaline until she almost passed out.
When he pulled away, she knew he had kept her alive for a reason. She demanded to k
now why, but he did not answer her at first.
“I can’t do this to you,” he said at last, his voice calm but she sensed a quaver that betrayed his own emotional turmoil. When he confessed that he had kept her alive, unable to kill her, she felt an unimaginable thrill of joy race through her body. She knew it was ridiculous, probably a symptom of some mental disorder, but she wanted him to want her. She didn’t know why, but she wanted to be valued enough by him to be wanted, to be kept alive.
She never imagined that this meant he would not just keep her alive, but he would keep her. She might never see her sister again, she might never escape this man who terrorized and fascinated her so. He declared that he now owned her like it was nothing, an every day occurrence in his life. Perhaps it was; she was probably not his first pet. She felt an odd stab of jealousy at the thought. How sick was she? That she craved being special in his world?
He got up to leave, left her on the hard platform, draped a blanket over her and headed to the door. She didn’t want him to go though; she needed him to stay. She needed to connect with him, but she also needed to find out more about him. What about him lured her in, what about him made her think about staying, even if it was in passing. Why would she have even considered it? What was it about this muscled, savage criminal that made her body react this way?
She desperately wanted him to come back. She didn’t know why, but she wanted him to stay with her. Instinct perhaps? But why? If anything she should want him to leave her alone.
But if she were left alone, she would never get away. He would lock her in and the room was probably very secure. Besides, she didn’t even know where she was inside the expansive penthouse; she knew it was multi leveled. How would she even find her way back to the kitchen?
Out of nowhere she remembered a tip she’d heard years before, some talk show had been doing a program on women’s safety. The irony was still not lost on her that the biggest monster she needed to protect against owned the very home she lived in. Something came back to her though, a way to save oneself when kidnapped. And this is what she was, she supposed. Kidnapped.
The security expert had cautioned that to be dehumanized was to be a victim. If the kidnapper no longer saw you as human, you were easier to dispose of.
Columbia decided to make sure she was damn hard to dispose of. He already knew her name, and he’d already decided he wanted to allow her to live, so she would interact with him in any way possible. She wanted to connect to him on some level that forced him to acknowledge that she was a human being.
“Wait,” she said as he was leaving the room. Even with the blanket on her, the platform was so hard that she wouldn’t be able to sleep. She was too wound up and too trapped in her flesh at the moment to get any rest. She heard him stop in his tracks and listen. “Please,” she continued, “don’t go. Don’t leave me here. I want to tell you something.”
He paused and she could almost hear the gears in his head turning. “I’m listening,” He replied at long last. Her heart was elated, which was ridiculous given the current situation. Was it possible that she was developing a crush on the man who was holding her captive?
Ridiculous, but beyond wanting him to save her life, she wanted to know more about him. More about the man who possessed the brilliant blue eye she had caught a glimpse of, the man she knew nothing about, not even his name.
“Please, sit near me,” she said and held her hand towards him. He hesitated; she could read it in the silence of the room. At long last she heard his footsteps make their way back to her side. He dragged a heavy chair across a smooth floor and he settled near her head.
“What do you need to tell me?” he asked, “Are you ready to beg for my cock?”
She barked her laugh, a single staccato note in the open space. “I didn’t think anything else was an option. I simply want to tell you a story.”
“A story?” he asked. “Why would I waste my time with a story?”
“It might help you decide,” she answered, holding out her hand for his.
He hesitated again; she could feel it this time as surely as she felt her own heart beating. Three small flutters of her heart passed, and finally he reached over and gripped her hand in his. His flesh was dry and warm, his hand enormous and vaguely comforting. The hand of a criminal, a murderer most likely, but the hand of a lover if given the right combination of things in the world. “Tell your story, little dove,” he said and gave her hand the smallest squeeze, as though he thought he would break her. It was the strangest feeling; the hand that had almost choked the breath from her body now hesitated at simple human touch. Her captor was a complicated man, perhaps as complicated as Columbia herself. She settled in and felt oddly at home.
“Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess,” she started.
“Wait, you are telling me a fucking fairy tale?” he demanded, “I don’t have time for this.”
“Please, just listen. There’s no reason to be so rude about it,” she chastised him gently, careful not to push his limits. “I think it’s important for you to hear this.” She wanted to get her story out, for him to hear it before he made his mind up to keep her. She wanted him to understand the why behind her scars.
“Fine,” he said and settled into the chair, his hand still engulfing hers. She heard the chair creak under his weight and knew if she ever possessed the heart of a man such as this, she would never spend another moment afraid. The things that went bump in the night would cower in the shadow of this killer.
“Ok, I’ll start over,” she said and started her story once more. “Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess. She met a handsome prince and they fell in love. They had a beautiful daughter and all was good in the kingdom.” She sensed he was getting restless so she knew she’d have to keep it short.
“One day a hideous thing happened. The handsome prince died and left the princess and his daughter alone in the world. Terrible things befell the two of them until one day they had nowhere left to live. They had to find another kingdom in a far away land. The princess packed her daughter up and moved to a large place, a city. At first the daughter was scared because the princess had to leave her alone all the time while she worked. After a while though, the daughter became brave and was happy to be on her own.”
He cleared his throat and shifted in the chair. Columbia was pleased that he did not take his hand back. She loved the sensation of being held by him, she hadn’t been aware how lacking her life had been in terms of simple touch. She vowed that if she made it out of this alive, she would hug Eden more...if only to reassure herself that she was a human being deserving of physical contact.
“The princess came home one day and told the daughter she needed to take some treats to her grandmother’s house. The daughter was very young but not afraid so she did not mind such a task. Along the way a Big Bad Wolf found her and followed her. He wouldn’t leave her alone and asked her all about her grandmother and where she lived.”
“I think I’ve heard this one,” he interrupted suddenly. “In my country we call it…. well, something about her being little and wearing red.”
“This is not the same story,” she replied, cutting him short, and continued. “The Wolf followed her to the grandmother’s but then took her home. Everybody was happy because it seemed like the Wolf was going to be a good replacement for the dead prince and take care of the princess and her daughter. Only the daughter knew this wasn’t the case. For when she went to bed at night she would find the Wolf in her room, waiting for her. There was no fairy tale banter about big eyes and big teeth,” she said. “This was silent and fast, the Wolf knew what he wanted and the little girl couldn’t do anything about it.”
She heard him draw a breath in and exhale, as if buying time to gather his thoughts before he commented. Finally he said, “In my country, there is a hunter who kills the Wolf and saves the little girl. Where is he in your story?”
“In my story nobody saves her. Besides, did you ever think
that she didn’t want to be saved?” Columbia said. “Maybe she needs to learn how to save herself.”
“No,” he said, “I’ve never looked at it like that. But if there is no hunter in this story, maybe there’s a part of the little girl that wants to be devoured.”
“Is that what you plan to do?” she cried out and laughed, a sound tinged with hysteria. She was trying to sound brave, but her voice kept betraying her fear, as easily as her body betrayed her need for pleasure, for contact.
“No,” he answered in a low voice. He dropped her hand and pulled his away. “But is that how you see me? In this story am I the Wolf?”
“I don’t know yet,” she said and squeezed her eyes shut again. “Is that how you see yourself? It feels like you might be.”
“How? I am not intent on devouring you, little dove. I am intent on keeping you with me. Why would I consume the very thing I plan to posses? What was the purpose of this little tale?”
“That thing you did? Getting my body to respond?” she replied, “That’s not new, my body might want it but my mind never will. I wanted you to know this. I think this might make you crazy enough to destroy me, to become the Wolf.”
“This is all based on the premise that you do not want me,” he said in a calm voice. “I think we both know that this is not a fact, there is some part of you that is already craving me back on you, touching you like that. Your body betrays you, but your mind will follow. Your mind will learn to want it as much as your treacherous body, I promise you that. I am no Wolf, little dove, I am the hunter, I am the woods, I am the cabin, I am everything in the story. I will become your everything and you will learn to give yourself willingly to me...body, mind and spirit.”
She shuddered and knew there was some truth to what he said. He had planted a seed with his touch, and somewhere in the back of her mind it was growing. She heard a small voice constantly asking the question what if he had not stopped? “So in the end I might wish that you had chosen to destroy me, if everything I am belongs to you.”
