by Taft Sowder
The drive home was less than eventful. He couldn’t quit thinking about the blonde. He had made another date with her for the next week, and he wanted her. Ever since he had taken Amber, he had a burning sensation, a need that fired inside, screaming to him to take the girls he saw. That was the first time he had acted on it, and it felt good. She called him Frank, and she did things to him that even Loretta had never done, things that made him feel powerful. She made him choke her, made him take her and made him take control. She didn’t have to push hard though. Just under the surface there was a beast of a man, waiting to unleash his dark and dominate side. He pulled her hair and choked her with his hands; he forced his penis into her throat and pounded her face until she vomited on the floor. He pounded her vagina; beat it like a drunken parent would beat an abused child. He took her asshole too. It felt good, and it was tighter than the overused love-hole that she called her twat. This had been one experience he would never forget. One thing that he knew would stay with him. She told him that next time she would play rough. He hoped she would.
He pulled the rental car up to the curb, and he saw police cars were parked at the end of the block. Their lights were flashing but no sirens. He was curious, though his mind was elsewhere.
Loretta met him on the porch, her mouth agape, teeth showing in a big smile. Her eyes sparkled with childish excitement, more than she’d shown in years. What had she done? She looked down the block and nearly jumped up and down when she saw the police escorting someone from the house down the way. Then she ushered him inside as if to hide. “Quickly,” she said.
“What was that about?” he asked.
“We don’t have to worry about the girl in the basement anymore.” She smiled seductively. “Are you ready for Thanksgiving?” she asked, changing the subject.
He looked at her, not wanting to question her methods or know the details, but relieved that she took care of it without prompting. He was curious however what she had planned for Thanksgiving dinner. “What are we having?”
“What do you have in the freezer?”
He smiled, “Frank did have good taste.”
She returned his smile. “Then we shall feast.”
There was a silence that came over the room, and they stood together enjoying their small victory, but knowing that there were many other battles to come if they were to keep the family alive, if they were to keep themselves above water.
* * * *
“It’s time to eat,” a female’s voice said in the darkness.
Amber moaned. She felt like shit. Her head hurt, she was dehydrated, she was weak overall and she just didn’t feel like fighting anymore. There was no reason to live; they would never let her go.
“It’s time to eat,” the girl repeated.
A plate of food was pushed toward her; she didn’t even bother to look up. Taking the slop in her fingers, she mashed it to her mouth and chewed loudly, smacking sounds coming from her lips. It tasted awful, and she knew that whatever was in it would make her pass out again, but she was starved. Unless she wanted to lie on the cold, dirt ground and starve to death, she would have to eat. The dog was gone by now. Someone had removed it, probably while she slept. The carcass had lain in the same room with her, though, for a long time. A dark and primal instinct called to her that food and nourishment lay just beyond her grasp, but she refrained from acting on it.
“It will be Thanksgiving soon,” the girl said.
Amber more or less ignored the words; otherwise, they would have cut deep like a surgeon’s scalpel. It was not something she wanted to hear. Though, she had no real family, the girls from the corners would have made sure she was taken care of Someone would have required some company on the long and sometimes lonely holiday weekend. She could have provided that, traded for some cash and a nice bed and good food. She could have even been free from that life by now. It wasn’t like hooking was something she planned to do for the rest of her life. It was just a way to get by, a way to live, but not a choice way to live. The choice way to live she had seen before. She knew what it looked like, knew what it smelled like. She thought at first that her captors had a choice life, but she could see that they were far beyond repair. In a way, their lives now were worse than her life could ever have been. At least she didn’t mutilate people for shits and giggles.
“You’ll be eating with us,” the girl said, still trying to make small talk while Amber ate.
Amber stopped shoveling food in her mouth and wanted to speak, but couldn’t remember the girl’s name. Instead she asked, “What was your name?”
The girl hesitated. An odd, several seconds of silence hung in the air. “Jessica.”
“Jessica, why won’t you let me go?”
Another odd silence hung before the answer finally spilled out. “Because I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re part of the family now, and family stays together.” The answers were simple, not requiring thought, as if they were programmed into her. Amber thought better of it, realizing that the girl really didn’t know.
“Jessica, do you think this is what I want?” Amber asked, continuing to use her name, hoping that it would pry something out of her or prod an open nerve that might spur the girl to set her free.
Jessica was quiet for a long time. “I don’t know what you want, but I have to do what they tell me. They are my parents. Don’t you have parents?”
“I had parents, but they didn’t love me.”
“Did you do what they said?”
Amber got quiet this time, thoughts of her past came rushing back to her. She remembered the way that her father beat her mother and forced himself on her. Then she remembered when her mother left her father. Those were happy times, before her mother turned to drugs and hooking. She had to pay the bills though, that’s what Amber always argued in her head. Until she met that man and ran off with him. Her mother had always tried to make her life better until then. She tried to keep her out of harm’s way, but she never prevailed; there was never any real stability to her life. She began to cry.
Jessica sat on the cold ground, not far from the girl tied to the wall. She couldn’t remember her name either, but she hoped that she could make it better. “There, there,” she said, “it will be alright. You’ll see. In a couple of days, you’ll see how everything gets better.”
Jessica left the crying girl in the basement, still chained to the wall. She locked up just like she was supposed to, but she felt a twinge inside that told her she was wrong. It was the same twinge that she felt whenever she would flirt with an older man, when she would go down on her teacher, or that told her that this guy or that guy was the wrong guy for her. She knew the feeling well and knew what it meant.
She ignored it.
Chapter Seventeen
Amber was drowsy. She didn’t know what day it was, or for that matter, even where she was, but she knew she was no longer cold. The light blurred her vision, and her head was spinning. She heard voices, but they sounded distant or slow, like a dazed and confused scene from a movie. She had only felt that before when she was really high, but that was something she chose to do, knowing what induced it. Now it was scary and strange. She tried to pry open her eyes and focus, but it seemed an impossible feat. The room spun; she felt sick to her stomach, but did not vomit. She didn’t even heave. She lay her head back and felt a soft padding, not the rock hard ground she was used to. Maybe she had been rescued; maybe she had gotten away. That was her hope anyway: that someone, anyone had found her or found out what they had done to her, and that she had been saved.
She forced her eyes open again. This time the lights stung her retinas, but she tried with everything in her to focus. The room was a blur, and she heard more voices, several of them. She could see shapes moving about and assumed they were people. She tried to speak, but her throat was dr
y and sore, and her swollen tongue felt like sandpaper. She coughed a dry and hard sound coming from her throat.
Laughter echoed in her ears; it sounded deep and masculine at first, but then went higher pitched and more childlike. It was that woozy feeling that caused the sounds to come like that. She tried to move her arms; she wanted try to reach out and touch one of the blurry shapes. The laughter continued, and she struggled against restraints. She knew then that she was not free, that she had not been rescued. That brought tears to her eyes, not many because her body could not bear it, but there were a few that streamed down her cheeks.
There was more laughter, and the dizziness made her cry that much harder. The tears were not coming, only the feeling of sadness and hopelessness. She had nothing.
A voice spoke as one of the shapes came close to her. “Happy Thanksgiving, Dear.” The voice faded in and out, but she recognized it as the woman that had brought her home that day.
That day. She cursed that day, which was the worst day she ever had. If it hadn’t been for that day, she would not be here right now. She would be safe in the arms of a paid lover. She would be enjoying a nice dinner at a five-star restaurant.
“I don’t think she’s with us,” Loretta said to Herman.
“She’ll come around.”
“What’s for supper? I’m starving,” Bobby said, eyeballing Amber, lusting a young boy’s lust. He didn’t know what he would do with her, but he knew that there was fun to be had.
“Don’t look at her like that, Honey,” Loretta told Bobby.
“What are you going to do with her?” Jessica asked. “Will she be like my new sister?”
Herman stared at her. “Yeah, just like your new sister.” He smiled. He was staring at her with lust as well, but he knew what he wanted to do with her, and he would do it again soon. Loretta didn’t approve, but he didn’t care anymore. Frank was now the more dominate of his sides, and Frank did what Frank wanted to do without regard for other people’s feelings.
“Let us pray,” Loretta said.
They all stood, all except for Amber. She was still tied to the chair, and didn’t have a clue what was going on. Before them was laid a feast, a large pot in the center of the table held a stew, and there was bread and vegetables and other greens. There was a roast on the table, looking much like an oversized leg of lamb. They prayed, Loretta leading the prayer, though they prayed to no one in particular. They had never been a religious family.
They settled down and began to feast. Amber, seated at the end of the table, lolled her head around. She was high, but it was a bad high. Bobby giggled at her as he watched the way she acted; he’d never seen someone high before. Jessica ignored it and tried not to look; it was strange to her and more taboo than the situation itself.
They ate in near silence; the only sounds were the enjoyment of food. Loretta occasionally helped Amber to drink or to eat. Amber choked several times. She was nearly too out of her head to do anything.
“This is great!” Bobby smacked his lips as he ate. He scraped his plate and held it to his lips to suck the juices off that were left behind.
Jessica had eaten her fill and sat silently waiting on the others to finish. She liked the food, though she was still in the dark as to what they were consuming. She sat, quietly observing. She watched her mother force-feed the girl, her new sister. She watched her father, the way he never took his eye off the girl. Poor Amber, she thought. The girl really did deserve a chance at freedom. She did deserve a chance to choose to be a part of the family. That was not what the others wanted. Maybe, just maybe she would see what she could do to help the girl to set her free. These thoughts were in her head, but she didn’t know if she could go through with it. She didn’t think of any repercussions, only that the girl deserved a chance.
Amber choked again, and it snapped Jessica out of her dazed train of thought. Help her, she wanted to scream, but she sat silently and watched as her mother slapped the girl on the back to get her to stop. A piece of partly chewed meat flew out and landed on the table. A severed bluish vein was protruding from the mass. It made Jessica sick at her stomach, but she kept that to herself.
“Kids, I hope you’ve enjoyed dinner,” Herman said.
“Yeah, Dad. It was great.” Bobby nodded.
Jessica nodded, too, but was silent.
Bobby walked over and picked at the wad of meat that flew from Amber’s mouth. He smiled and flicked it at her.
Amber was still dazed, but she could feel the effects beginning to wear off. She could make out the shapes, and she could make out that she was no longer naked, or near naked. She was dressed in a nice dress, far too formal for the experience, but then again, she didn’t understand the family’s weird traits. They were all dressed nice. The daughter, Jessica, more than the rest. It was the same family she had met before. They hadn’t changed, and no one else was around for her to see. She wanted to scream, but knew that it would do no good. She wanted to lash out, but knew that she lacked the strength to even stand let alone break the bonds that held her and take out her captors. There was nothing for her but living one day at a time and hoping beyond anything reasonable that someone would find her and save her soon.
“Are ya’ finished, Hun?” It was the mother who asked. The name came back to her, Loretta. “Would you like to go lay down?” She felt Loretta’s hand on her arm, and it made her skin crawl. Not that the woman was nasty or anything, far from it, but the fact that she stood idly by and letting this happen, even going along with it, that’s what made Amber’s skin crawl.
She saw Herman stand across the table at the other end, and he came to her and placed his own hand on her other arm. She felt his strength on her skin. If it had not been for whatever drug she was on, she would probably have felt pain under his fingertips. He had quite a grip on her.
“I think she would like to go lay with us,” he said, his voice fading in and out. “Kids, to your rooms, reflect on the past and think about our future as a family.”
Amber watched the children leave the dining room, Jessica taking one last look over her shoulder as she left.
There was a crash as the plates hit the floor; Herman had shoved the dish ware off the table. Loretta looked at him as if to ask why.
“I’m not waiting any longer.” He scowled. “Be part of this or don’t, but I’m ready now.”
He worked quickly and untied her restraints, all the while Amber watched, still weak and unable to defend herself. A moment later, and she was on the table on her back. She could feel the burn of something rubbing across her neck, and she could only assume it was the rope. She felt it go tight, and her breathing became a little more labored.
She felt his hands on her, up her dress. Apparently they had failed to put panties on her. Perhaps it had been the idea all along. It was creepy that he would do this to her, in his daughter’s own dress, but it would have been far creepier, she thought, to have been left with the boy. She could feel him undressing her with his eyes; she remembered the feeling from the first time they had eaten together.
She was numb on most of her body, but she could feel a little pressure in her crotch. Then she felt him enter her, the pressure was more adamant but still pressure, not pleasure, not any real feeling. She watched helplessly as he worked, pumping back and forth. Her eyes darted to Loretta who sat watching, an approving look on her face as she watched her husband fuck the helpless girl on the table. She watched Loretta’s hand disappear below the ruffles of the dress and felt a bit of pressure on the outside of her vagina, but she still didn’t feel any pleasure.
He stopped pumping, and stopped moving. She looked up to see what was going on; he rested his head on her ankle which was laid up on his shoulder. He was sweating profusely and panting. She knew he had either worked himself to the brink, or overworked himself. Then she realized what he was doing. She felt the p
ain that time. There was no warning, no ease of entry. She felt him in her rectum and she whimpered.
He began pumping again, and she whimpered more and began to cry. The tears flowed this time. She had quenched her thirst earlier, and now she had fluid to spare. It seemed a waste as she thought about it, trying to ignore the pain, but she couldn’t help but to cry. He was not gentle.
Finally, Loretta stopped him. Amber felt the pain and pressure ease and heard him grunt as fluid spilled all on her legs and the table. Now she felt sick again, and this time she vomited, turning her head to the side. It came out in a rush and spewed on the table and spilled over onto the floor. She heard it like a thick waterfall.
“God damn it!” Herman slapped her across the face, the sting penetrating; she felt that. She was no longer numb. She saw stars with that slap; they dotted the entryway and the living room, the wall and the ceiling. The stars were everywhere she looked.
Loretta grabbed his hand and pulled him back. “Take that out on me,” she said, lifting her skirt over her pale bottom. He slapped her skin hard, a red handprint appearing immediately. She yelped and wiggled it at him.
He did it again, and couldn’t help but notice the rise he received from it. Frank was in control. He slapped her again and then thrust himself into her. She yelped again and then moaned, burying her face between Amber’s legs.
Amber could no longer take it. She dug deep inside herself, a last ditch effort to redeem herself. She was hurt, afraid and above all desperate. Her legs were free, and she used her strength to pull them back. Then she kicked hard, as hard as she could, at Herman’s chest. It caught him off guard, mid-thrust, so his lower body came forward as she kicked. It knocked his upper body back, and he wasn’t well balanced. He fell back and hit the large bay window. There was a crash and the sound of shattering glass. She wrapped her legs around Loretta’s head and held her tight, fighting with the rope that was around her neck. It disappeared around the table, but there was just enough play for her to pull her head out. She sat up and at the same time Loretta looked up. Their eyes met for a split second, and in that same split second she felt sorry for Loretta and the family, but it didn’t stop her from punching Loretta in the forehead. Everything she had went into that punch, and pain shot up her arm, but she didn’t care, she couldn’t care, not if she wanted escape in one piece. She was on her feet in a second and shooting across the room and through the entryway into the foyer. She pushed down on the fancy door handle and pulled, but the door was locked. She saw no physical lock to twist, no bolt to throw. It shocked her and took some of the fight from her, but she knew she didn’t have much of a chance. She ran now, down the hall. She couldn’t remember which door was which, and she knew she had only seconds, at best, minutes to hide or escape.
