by TylerRose.
As he’d done many a time, he reached a hand between her legs to wake her up for a clit stroking orgasm.
Mouth clamped shut, teeth closed tight, eyes watching the enemy enter the room. He was as intent on her, stalking her down. She held her ground, ready to fight to the death. He grabbed her arm and she responded with sledgehammer blows to shoulder, driving him to the floor. Left, right, one after the other as if she had two hundred pounds of lead in each arm.
“What the fuck!” Jerome blurted, blocking as she reared up and struck like she was aiming for China. “Tyler, stop! Wake up!”
He darted for her wrists and she rolled backwards off the bed to the floor without a sound. He reached for the light, turning it on to see her crouched low, eyes wide as dinner plates and filled with solid black rage. Literally filled. She had no iris, no whites. Solid black orbs like a snake.
She blinked and they were gone, green eyes back as she realized where she was. She turned about to put her back to the bed and calm down.
“What was that?” he asked, lying behind her to hold around the chest where she sat.
“I was dreaming,” she barely whispered.
“Of what?” he asked, noting that she was not crying this time.
“Solomon.”
“Tell me.”
She did. She’d gotten three good shots that time. He got in all the rest. Mental chain turned up enough to make fighting back too difficult, that had been one of the worst days. Had been toward the beginning. She remembered things he’d said. They’d been travelling to some deal and he spent those two days making sure she knew exactly what to expect. He wasn’t going to be letting her go this time. Ever. He was going to own her until he decided to kill her. She told about being kept cuffed to the bed by both wrists and both ankles, being kept in a cage under his bed and dragged out when he wanted to use her. Or beat her.
The journal didn’t say anything about any of that.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” she asked Jerome.
“Not at all. I blocked your hits. You never have to apologize for a reaction. You have every right to fight back when you feel threatened. I’m the one who’s sorry. I should have made sure you were awake first. I didn’t realize how deeply wounded you are. Now I know and I’ll be better prepared next time. Do you wake up fighting in your own bed too?”
“I wake with a start, not fighting,” she admitted.
“I’m really sorry you had to go through that, babe. If the other Jerome had taken you home, none of that would ever have happened.”
“It had to happen.”
“No, it didn’t. Now I know what the other Tyler is heading for and it pisses me off to know I could have stopped it. It kills me to see you hurt so much inside.” He eased onto the floor to lift her into his lap and hold her close. “And you don’t even cry over it.”
“I’ll cry for my lost husband and my lost baby,” she said. “But never a single tear over the perpetrator. He’s dead and gone and I made him that way.”
“But you still have dreams about what he did. He’s got a counterpart in this timeline too, right?
“Unfortunately. I really don’t want to talk about him.”
Dissatisfied but not wanting to push, he got up with her in his arms and put her facing the far wall. Spooning in tight behind her, he held her the rest of the night and watched her sleep.
Hating to do it, he woke her at nine so they could check out in time. Out the door in half an hour, he drove only as far as the diner. He ate a full breakfast but she had toast and coffee. Despite two cups worth, she fell asleep in the car within half an hour. He had to drive much slower during daylight, with so many other vehicles on the road. She woke hungry an hour later and they stopped at a Kentucky Fried Chicken. She ate everything on her plate, was much more awake.
She smiled a lot, especially when he asked how she was feeling after his assertions the previous night.
“That was good,” she grinned. “You can do that again anytime.”
“I plan to,” he smiled back.
On the road, a joint shared, holding hands, and he was very much enjoying sharing his life with a woman, a lover, again.
They were home by three and she showered and went to Mickey’s.
“You look a little down,” Jerome said to Roc.
Holding a book in her lap in the window seat of the living room, she looked up to him.
“Reading how the Caucasian humans enslaved the native peoples of the Caribbean Islands and Africa. How the women began to have light skinned children almost as soon as they got off the slave boats. I can’t imagine they bedded willingly. It reminded me of the worst day of my life. I am so relieved I did not become pregnant. And these women saw their babies sold. Then others they bore. I can’t imagine letting a man touch me.”
“How many of them actually raped you?” he asked.
“One. The others held me down.”
“Oh. I thought all three had done it. You said you were raped by three.”
“The two in complicity are equally to blame for the single deed,” she said.
“Thank you for that clarification,” he snipped.
“Does it matter?” she asked, misery in her eyes.
“Has Tyler ever told you the details of her experience?”
“No.”
“But you know her enemy held her prisoner for various lengths of time, right?” he asked.
“Yes. What are you getting at?”
“Do you compare your one horrible day to her ongoing nightmare?” he pursued.
“She doesn’t speak of it. There is nothing to compare.”
“Okay, let’s have an experiment for the next three days. Let’s say Starbird is your male captor. Every single time she looks at you is a moment when you might be beaten or raped or both. The potential is there if your captor chooses to do it. Each time she says ‘hello’ to someone is an actual attack. Every time she says ‘hello,’ you have been raped right there where you stand, regardless of what you are doing or who is there to see it. When she leaves the room, the rape has ended.”
“What if I leave the room before she can say anything?” Roc asked.
“You can’t. You’re the prisoner, remember?”
She was silent.
“We’ll start right now and talk about how you feel in three days. Be sure to keep count of how many times Star says hello.”
He left her to go looking for Star and found her fiddling with a small device at the kitchen table.
“I need a favor,” he said quietly. “Help with an experiment that will make a point to Roc.”
“What?”
“I want you to intentionally stop what you’re doing now and then and walk into the room she’s in. Talk or don’t, it doesn’t matter. So long as she sees you in the same room at least four or five times a day.”
“Probably more. House isn’t that big.”
“The important part is that you say hello to her or someone else at least twice every day. Different times each day or same time, your choice, no matter who is there or what we’re all doing. Now and then sit down in the same room to read a book or watch television. Eat a snack. Whatever.”
“What are we proving?”
“That’s between me and Roc, but it should shut her up about the worst day of her life.”
Star gasped, covered her mouth. “I’m Solomon.”
Tyler had told her a great deal, late at night when they crossed paths in their bathroom and shared a bowl. Star also knew about Tyler’s painful night time tummy troubles that she tried not to let anyone know about.
“You’re too smart sometimes, Star. Will you do it?”
“Absolutely. She’s reading, right?”
“In the living room. Don’t go overboard. Four or five times a day,” he said, and went to his room for a workout.
Star waited until four thirty before going to find Roc.
“Tyler’s not here to make dinner. Come help me, please.”
&n
bsp; Roc visibly startled at the sound of her voice. “I’m not hungry.”
“Maybe not, but there are other people eating tonight, and two of them are pigs. Come help me.”
An interesting experiment it was. Roc kept her eyes down, wouldn’t look up as they made spaghetti. Sauce out of the freezer was already thawed and ready to be heated. Noodles leftover from a couple nights earlier just needed to be rinsed shook and tossed with the sauce to heat. In the middle of chopping a papaya, Gable came up.
“Hello, honey!” Star smiled at him.
Roc dropped the knife with a clatter. Through dinner, she barely ate anything. Jerome caught her wary glance as she looked at Starbird, and dropped her eyes whenever Star looked at her. Then Star’s phone rang.
“Hello.”
Roc about dropped her water glass.
“Alright, Q’Sil. Be there after supper.” She ended the call. “He’ll be out of rest mode in half an hour and needs me to help him work on a new circuit board for the Torino.”
Another helping of spaghetti for Gable and Roc excused herself. Book forgotten on the seat of the living room, she shut herself up in her room.
Star excused herself to work on the circuit board. Finishing in a couple hours, Gale and Jerome having done dinner clean up, she went to the toilet. A knock and turn of the handle and she went into Roc’s room as she normally would.
“Are you okay? You don’t seem yourself.”
“I’m fine,” Roc lied. Truth was, this experiment was far more affecting than she’d ever thought it could be.
“Tony called. He apologized for missing supper. He got caught up working on his car. He said to say hello to you.”
Roc froze. Three times in…these few hours.
“He said he misses seeing you.”
“I’m very tired. I need to rest,” Roc said too quietly.
“You sure you’re okay?” Star asked, reaching to feel her forehead. “You’re not having a relapse, are you?”
“No. I am tired.”
“Okay. I’ll see you in the morning. I did tell Tony I was sure you’d want me to tell him hello back. He may not like Tyler, but that’s no reason for us to be less than cordial.”
She left to go find Gable and challenge him to a wrestling match in the woods behind the warehouse. Gable was certainly game, and they returned covered in mud and leaves. To their separate bathrooms and Star walked in on a naked Roc just getting out of the shower.
“Whoops! Hello!” Star grinned. “Sorry about that. You didn’t lock the door,” she said, and started stripping out of her cold, mud-soaked clothes. “Tell you what, but Gable is one mean fucker when he wants to be.”
Roc fled, slamming her door closed and locking it from the other side. She locked the hall door as well. Star blinked in thought, wondering if the experiment was going to be worth the conclusion. Shower done, she took her clothes wrapped in a towel to the washer. Gable had left his there. She put them all in and went to his room to demand the hour of cunnilingus he owed her.
To her surprise, he had something new for her. A string of white beads each three quarters of an inch wide. He greased them up well and stuffed them one at a time up her anus. He left them there for the hour of licking and sucking. Left them there for the subsequent hour of fucking.
“When are you going to take these out,” she asked.
“When I fuck you in the morning,” he grinned.
“If I let you,” she taunted.
“Oh, you’ll let me. You’ll be dying for me to fuck you. They gonna be rubbin’ all over that Bomarian G spot you got at the far back of your puss. Aaaaaalll night.”
“You’re mean.”
He laughed. “I just know what makes you hot. I pay attention. Sleep if you can,” he teased, hunkering down into his pillow.
She tried, dozing off and on, but woke at five so bothered she couldn’t stand it anymore. She stroked him to hardness, stroked him awake and eased a leg over to ride. As she neared climax, Gable reached for the plastic ring and wound the string around his finger. He heard that sound he knew so well and yanked downward. Starbird made a new sound as they both ground in for a good, hard cum.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about,” he said when she collapsed onto him breathless and shaking. “Admit it, Space Girl. Earthman give good fuck.”
“Earthman give good fuck,” she breathed, patting him on the head.
Soon as he was able to get it up again, he put her on her back for a good hard one up the ass. They fell asleep again, waking up closer to eight in the morning.
“Challenge,” he said before they even got out of bed.
“For what?”
“Anything I want all day.”
“Or anything I want,” she countered.
“That’s usually the deal,” he nodded.
She tried to get the jump on him and found herself wrapped in his legs and bent over her shoulders. Pinned that fast.
“One, two, three,” he said in moderate time, and gave her ass a hard spank. “Mine! All day.”
“I wasn’t ready!”
“Says the chick who tried and failed to catch me off guard. Bend over the dresser an’ spread ‘em, Space Girl,” he said with an even harder spank.
“Ow! Hey!”
But she went, and he lounged a moment to look at her before taking the beads to the bathroom. He made her stand there while he washed the beads and brought them back. Not pleased with the length of the string, he cut the ring off and cut three inches off.
“How long you gonna leave me like this?” she protested.
“Long as I want. Shut up,” he said, reattaching the ring.
He got the lube and slowly reinserted the beads one every few minutes as he got dressed and combed his hair. Opening his top drawer, he took out a small bag and handed it to her with a kiss on the cheek.
“The ring is uncomfortable,” she complained. “It’s between my butt cheeks.”
“You’ll get used to it,” he said, and sat to watch her put on the very short skirt and cropped tank top.
“No way!”
He grinned bigger. “Anything I want, Space Girl. I want you in that. I will not be telling you to bend over in front of people. I just want to look at you and occasionally feel you up. You lost fair and square, so pay up.”
“Do I at least get underpants?”
“What fun would that be?” he teased, getting up to take a double handful of bare ass. “Mmmm. Likin’ that a lot!”
“Can you let go of me so I can see if Roc’s up?”
“If I must.”
She managed to get out the door and up the hall to knock on Roc’s door.
“Hello,” she smiled brightly when the door opened. “Do you know what time Tyler usually gets up? I need to talk to her but don’t want to knock if it’s too early.”
“Between now and ten. If you smell coffee, she’s awake. She has to get up to turn it on.”
“Oh, okay. Would she mind if I knocked now, you think? I smell coffee.”
“At your own risk. She can be cranky before she’s had her first cup,” Roc said.
“Okay. Thank you.”
Roc shut the door and slid down it to the floor, her legs shaking so badly she couldn’t walk. How many times was that now? Four? Five? Her one experience played over each time and she imagined being stuck in the room with them as long as she was with Star. But she could not believe four or five times out of eight hours awake. That seemed a bit excessive.
Smiling to herself, Star crossed the hall to knock on the door the other side of the bathroom. It opened an inch by itself, the invitation to enter, and she went in to find Tyler wrapped in a blanket and sipping hot coffee from a spoon close over the cup.
“I need your help,” Star said, shutting the door.
“How to dress in November?” Tyler asked, eying the long length of bare midriff and leg.
Star rolled her eyes. “I lost a wrestling match. I gotta wear this all day so he can look at me
and feel me up.”
“He’s also very much looking forward to getting you into the pantry. Repeatedly.”
“Yeah, he’s got a thing about the deep freezer. I can’t bend over. How am I supposed to do anything in this getup?”
“First, stand with your feet together,” Tyler told her.
Star adjusted her shoulder-width warrior stance and Tyler tossed her spoon to the floor just in front of her shoes.
“Keep your back straight and upright. Bend your knees and lower yourself toward the floor. Keep your knees together. Do not overreach. Go.”
Star attempted it, slow, reaching.
“Keep knees together or you’ll flash everyone watching. Might be easier to lower one knee farther down and let it touch the floor.”
“Oh sure, so he can see me on my knees in this!”
They laughed but she tried again, lowering one knee a bit farther than the other. She retrieved the spoon.
“Be careful how far you bend over in a short shirt,” Tyler advised. “Boobs swing. Even little ones.”
“Little?” Star said, looking down. “Never thought of them as little.”
“You have an athletic physique. It is natural that you would have smaller breasts. You’re a B cup, right?”
“Cup? Dunno. Didn’t know there was such a thing. My uniforms have this stretchy panel thing that stretches to fit most any size as needed.”
Tyler conjured up a measuring tape. “Measure around your ribs below where the breasts meet your chest bones.”
“Twenty nine,” Star said, reading the tape measure.
“Plus five makes you a 34 band. Measure your fullness.”
“Thirty six.”
“Thirty six minus thirty four is two. You’re a B cup,” Tyler said.
“What are you?” Star asked.
“34D.”
“Where do I go to buy sexy stuff he’d like?”
“We’ll go shopping after I wake up. What are you doing to Roc?”
Reaching again for the spoon, Star’s eyes lifted. “An object lesson, apparently. Jerome’s idea.”
