Last Week: A Dark Romance

by Lucy Wild

  I could say it was because of the money, that I was blinded by the thought of so much money that it would solve all my problems.

  That was in my thoughts, I’d be lying to say it wasn’t. But I was also riled when he talked about a story. Did I want to be left behind while his story continued with another woman in my place? Or did I want to take a risk? Take a shot? See where it took me?

  It took ten minutes to decide after he left. At first, I was certain I wasn’t going anywhere. The aggression and power in his voice when he told me to sit down was scary enough. From looking at him, I got the feeling he was capable of far worse. He was not someone I wanted to spend any time with.

  But as I thought about it, I weighed up my options. What else was I going to do? It wasn’t like I had much of a choice. It was take the risk and win or lose. Or stay where I was and definitely lose.

  In the end, I got to my feet and let fate decide. If he was still out there after the ten minutes were up, I’d go with him. If he was gone, so be it. I told myself not to run, I managed to maintain a walking pace until I got outside and saw he was about to set off. I just made it.

  The drive seemed to go on forever, not being able to see made it so much worse. The car came to a stop eventually though I’ve no idea how long it had been since we set off. It felt like an hour but for all I knew it might have been only a few minutes. Time went slowly when you couldn’t see anything, when all you could do was feel and hear.

  He didn’t say anything until the engine was off. I heard his door open and then mine.

  “Out,” he said, taking my arm and leading me into the open. I could hear gravel crunching under our feet. “Step up,” he said a second later and I did so, not wanting to trip.

  I could tell when we crossed a threshold because the air changed, becoming warmer. I was inside. A door closed with an echoing thud. There was no other sound. Was this his house?

  I went to take my blindfold off but he grabbed my hand, yanking it downwards. “Not until I say so,” he growled. “Now up these stairs.”

  I almost stumbled on my way up, a vision of falling with the donkey tail coming unwarranted into my mind. But I wasn’t six anymore. I was an adult. So, why did I feel like a scared little girl, my arm clinging onto his for support as we reached a landing.

  On we walked, around a corner until he stopped. I heard a key rattle in a lock and then a door opened. “Walk forwards,” he said. Another childhood image came unbidden into my mind as I did so, brought about by the change from carpet to wooden boards under my feet.

  There was a kids gameshow that I used to love watching. One of the contestants wore a helmet that blocked their vision, the others guiding their movements around a medieval themed maze. “Left three paces…run backwards…pick up the fruit…there’s a dragon flying towards you,” that kind of thing.

  I couldn’t shake the thought that I was about to walk into a dragon’s mouth, the image only fading when he said, “Take the blindfold off.”

  I slipped it up and over my hair, looking around the room as he took the blindfold from me and folded it neatly. The room was bare. Nothing at all, no furniture, no carpet. Just whitewashed walls. No window. A bare lightbulb dangling from the ceiling. It felt like a prison cell.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” I said, going to push past him. “I want to go home.”

  “It’s too late for that,” he said, grabbing my shoulders, pushing me back against the wall. He was crushing me, his face inches from mine, so close I could see the darkness in his eyes.

  I should have been terrified, his grip on my shoulders was painful enough to make me squirm. But all I could think about was how close he was, how I could feel the heat of his body against mine, his bulk squashing me deliberately, trying to make me as uncomfortable as possible. It felt good.

  It should have frightened me beyond measure, trapped there with him between me and my way out. I was scared. But what I was scared of was the fact that I wasn’t scared of him.

  Although, if I wasn’t scared of him, why was my throat dry and my heart thudding so painfully in my chest?

  SIX

  ETHAN

  What was I doing? I stepped away from her, letting her shoulders slump downwards as she stood panting, her back still pressed up against the wall.

  There was nothing wrong with grabbing her, with showing her exactly who was in charge. But to do it for that long, my face so close to hers that I could have kissed her. That was a mistake. Her lips were almost irresistible close up and I needed to keep my urges in check if I was going to do this the right way. There would be plenty of time to take advantage of her body once she’d been broken. Not yet though, there was a procedure to follow.

  I’d tested her in the pub and this tested her again. There was nothing stopping her from shoving her way past me. The door wasn’t locked. The chance to escape was there.

  I hadn’t hurt her, merely shown her a flash of what I was capable of doing, just enough to make her think. I could see her mind whirling even as the fear washed over her face. She was trying to decide what to do next.

  Her eyes were wild, darting from me to the door. Her chest heaved as I took a single step towards her. I liked how submissive she was already, the way she didn’t move, didn’t do anything, just waited for me to tell her what to do.

  “Sign this,” I said, pulling the contract from my pocket.

  “What is it?”

  “An agreement between us. What happens during the next seven days is strictly between you and me, not to be shared with anyone else. You are to obey me for a full week, then at the end of our time together, you get your million. The rest is mere details.”

  I passed her a pen with the contract. She looked like a lost little girl, holding both in the air, still waiting to be told what to do.

  I sighed. “Lean it against the wall behind you.”

  She spun round, placing the paper against the wall while I glanced down at her tight little ass, thinking how good it would look without those irritating clothes in the way. When she turned back round, she looked more scared than ever.

  “Have you signed it?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “You can and you will.” I grabbed her shoulders again, pushing her back against the wall, feeling the heat of her fear as she gasped in surprise. “If you want your money, you’ll sign.”

  Her face contorted, as if she was in pain. I was barely touching her, my fingers light on her shoulders, nothing keeping her in place but her own fear.

  I stepped back slowly, still looking at her. No doubt she was in shock. An hour ago, she’d been drinking alone. Now she was trapped here with me. I felt a surge of power knowing that. I had her here in my empty house. Just her and me.

  I could have done anything to her. I could tear her clothes off her and take her. I wasn’t an animal. I wasn’t going to do anything like that. My needs were far more subtle.

  She looked ready to begin. She hadn’t even tried to move. “Sign,” I said, folding my arms. “Now.”

  She tried to match my gaze but then she looked down at the paper, her whole body looking defeated. She turned away, leaning once more against the wall and signing the paper with a shaky hand. She turned back and I was shocked to find there was a flicker of a smile on her face. It was only there for the briefest of moments but there was no doubting it.

  “Are you happy?” I asked, tapping my foot on the floor.

  “No,” she said too quickly.

  So that was how she wanted to play this. Already she was more interesting than any of the others had been. I’d had full on masochists begging me to punish them but that barely raised my heart rate. What got my blood pumping was her, this innocent woman with the contract dangling from her shaking hand.

  “The rules are very simple,” I said, watching her eyes flick from me to the floor and back again. “I will tell you what to do for the next week. You will obey every command without question or hesitation. Is tha
t clear?”

  “I’m not sure,” she muttered.

  “We have a contract,” I said, snatching the paper from her. “There are only two ways out of this situation. One will earn you a million pounds. The other gets you nothing. Do as I tell you and you will be rewarded handsomely in return. Or say the safe word and it all stops. You can just walk away.”

  “What’s the safe word?”

  “It’s in the contract.”

  “I didn’t see it.”

  “A complete stranger asks you to submit to him completely for a million pounds and you expect me to believe you didn’t even bother to read the contract?”

  “You didn’t give me chance.”

  “Don’t play games with me. You read it, I know you did.”

  “I really didn’t.”

  “Well, that’s not my fault now, is it?”

  “Please-”

  “I like that,” I said, interrupting her. I like the sound of you begging. Do it again.”

  “Please, tell me the safe word at least. You have to do that.”

  “I don’t have to do anything. You, on the other hand, have to do exactly what I say.”

  She shook her head, a gesture of defiance that irritated me. “I don’t.”

  “Yes,” I began, marching over to her, pushing her backwards,” you do.”

  “Please,” she muttered, the word fading away to nothing.

  “I’m a reasonable man,” I said, “not a monster. You strip for me now and I’ll tell you what the safe word is.”

  “What? No, please not that.”

  She was already trying to disobey me. She really was a feisty one, despite her appearance. I had to knock that on the head before she thought she could walk all over me. I put the contract back in my pocket before crossing to the door and leaning against it, facing her once more. “Strip.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t make me.”

  “I’m not making you. I’m not touching you. I’m giving you a command. You signed the contract. You are to do whatever I say and I say strip.”

  SEVEN

  ZOEY

  Why had it made me so happy to put my name on that piece of paper? Why had I even signed the thing? He’d terrified me with his constant back and forth across the room, the look on his face, the tone of his voice, it was all enough to shut down my ability to think.

  But through all that, a little whispering voice kept reminding me of the feel of him pressing against me, how it had looked as if he was about to kiss me.

  I’d only once tried to raise the subject of submission with my now ex-boyfriend. The conversation had lasted less than a minute. I had subtly hinted that I wouldn’t object in principle to the idea of him spanking me. He had replied that the idea was sick and a sign that I’d been abused as a child. I came away from the conversation feeling ashamed of myself for even wanting to be spanked. Was he right? Was it sick?

  The idea didn’t leave me though, it just lurked in the dark recesses of my mind, flaring back up from time to time and hinting that there were needs that I had that went beyond missionary sex once a month.

  I had fantasised about being taken by a strong, handsome stranger, being told what to do, the weight of guilt over my desire being lifted by a lack of choice, by handing over all decisions to him. But reality was very different to fantasy.

  For one thing, I never thought in my fantasies that the stranger might kill me. This was something else. The look in Ethan’s eyes as he told me to strip hinted that a darkness lurked deep inside him, a darkness that he was trying to control.

  Of course, I had no idea at the time how right I was. There was a darkness there but it had nothing to do with me. But on that first day in his house, I was afraid of him, afraid for myself.

  So why wasn’t I fighting him? Why wasn’t I running past him, sprinting for the front door? I thought back to when I’d first seen him in the pub. I had hated him then, hot as he was. But even in my anger, there was an undercurrent of something else, something that I ignored.

  It came back to me as I looked at him. It was desire. I wanted him. The idea was disgusting. I couldn’t want the brute who was manhandling me, crushing me against a wall, demanding that I sign his stupid contract.

  Scanning through the document, I couldn’t resist a smile. It wasn’t real. I almost collapsed with relief. It was just a game. There it was, buried in the middle, a safe word. All I had to do was say it and the whole illusion would be shattered. This was just role play. He was a billionaire who had got bored of the usual things and found his desires getting darker.

  So he only got off on dominating women. That wasn’t so bad. I could submit for a week for a million pounds, especially knowing if things got too much, I had the safe word to fall back on.

  Why did I pretend I didn’t know the safe word? I guess it felt good to have at least one secret, something he didn’t know about me.

  It felt good to have that locked away though it didn’t help much when he told me to strip. Panic flashed through my mind. I hated the fact that my first thought when he said that wasn’t embarrassment, it was worry, worry that he might not like how my body looked. How screwed up is that?

  I didn’t want him to see my body. He looked like he was chiselled from marble, me, I had a girl’s body, not a woman’s. He would take one look at it and change his mind and I’d be out on the street a minute later.

  So I refused to strip. It felt awful disobeying him. It felt as if I might have fallen at the first hurdle, breaking the rules before I’d even been there an hour.

  “Strip,” he said again and I shook my head, about to say him no once more, I wouldn’t do it, I couldn’t do it. But then I got my first clue of just how intense this game was going to be.

  He was on me in a flash, before I even knew what was happening. He yanked my coat from my shoulders, grabbing my blouse and ripping it open, exposing my bra, the buttons flying across the room. My chest heaved as he took a step back, his face calm, looking for all the world as if nothing had happened.

  “You are my slave for the next week,” he said. “You take off the rest of your clothes or I fetch a knife and cut them off you. Your choice.”

  It was clear that he meant it, his face back to that cold emptiness, his foot tapping impatiently as I tugged the two halves of my blouse together across my chest.

  “You will learn to obey me,” he suddenly roared, the sound so loud in the small room that it made my ears ring. He darted forwards again, shoving me against the wall, his hand suddenly between my legs, pressing upwards. He put his ear to my mouth as I fought to control the rising sense of panic threatening to bring the safe word bubbling to my lips.

  “You’re enjoying this,” he said, turning his face towards mine. “I can hear it in your breath.” His hand continued to knead between my legs as I tried to tell him he was wrong. I couldn’t do it.

  His fingers moved up, flicking open the button of my jeans. “There,” he said, stepping back. “I’ve helped you get started.”

  There was a smirk on his face as he nodded down at my jeans. “You have thirty seconds to get naked before I run out of patience.”

  My trembling hands moved towards my trousers and I began to slide them slowly down my legs, wincing as he looked at the bare skin of my thighs. Would he see how wet I was? Would it be noticeable through my knickers? I hoped not. I’d have no chance of keeping up the pretence of hating this if he saw just how my body had reacted to the touch of him on me. He’d know what my body was already telling me. I wanted to do this.

  “Good girl,” he said as I peeled down my jeans. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  EIGHT

  ETHAN

  When she stopped with her jeans round her knees, looking up at me with those plaintive eyes of hers, I was ready. I took a step towards her, clenching my hand into a fist. It worked like a charm.

  She winced, as if she thought I might strike her. Then she looked down again, continuing to peel her jeans down to
her ankles.

  It was different to last time. Even at the beginning, they were always so eager to please, racing to get their clothes off, awaiting my approval. She wasn’t like that. She was acting as if it would be the worst thing in the world to be naked in front of me. Maybe it was. But I couldn’t stop now. I’d broken my own rules by not giving her the safe word, it was too late to turn back.

  I felt an excitement with her that I hadn’t felt with any of the others. She was the first one who might actually do it, might actually break and let me walk out of life with the final victory I craved.

  A tiny pang of guilt appeared deep inside me as she struggled with her jeans. She was innocent. She had not done anything to deserve any of this. I was going to ruin her life and she had done nothing.

  The only thing I can say in my defence is that she wasn’t a person to me at the time, she was a tool, a tool to help me achieve what I wanted, which was to get revenge on Emilia.

  If I’m honest, that’s what all of this was about. I was empty inside and the rot had set in when she broke me. I had tried to ignore it, throwing myself into the only thing I knew how to do, making money.

  At first that was enough but as the rewards got greater, so did the darkness until I realised there was no reason to keep going. I had made a billion. I had an empire that stretched around the world. I had nothing to do but sit on my wealth or watch it get leeched away. Neither idea suited me.

  Trying to break women on the other hand, now that suited me. That was a challenge. A real challenge.

  For a little while, I was able to forget the emptiness inside me, focus on the work, on twisting and shaping their minds until they were beholden to me, dependent on me.

  The trouble, if I’m realistic, was that they came into things too eager to please me. All I had to do was click my fingers and they’d obey. I didn’t want that. Where was the challenge?

  The previous ones had all failed and as Zoey stood in front of me, those slender, pale legs of hers gradually revealing themselves, I had my first real spark of excitement, genuine, pure, true.