The Social Affair

by Britney King

  * * *

  Addison Greyer knows better. Or at least she should.

  * * *

  Never in a million years would she have guessed she’d wind up agreeing to the sinister side-gig her tough-as-nails new boss proposes.

  * * *

  Until she does.

  * * *

  Turns out, one bad decision often leads to another.

  * * *

  He’s troubled. She’s married.

  * * *

  It’s a dangerous game, for sure—one in which she stands to lose the most. Soon, she learns desire is not only dangerous but deadly and there’s a price to be paid for her mistakes.

  * * *

  A pound of flesh.

  * * *

  Never in a million years would she have guessed how far her picturesque little suburban life would unravel.

  * * *

  Until it does.

  * * *

  She should have known better. Too bad she didn’t.

  Bedrock

  Britney King

  Copyright

  BEDROCK is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, images, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author's intellectual property. No part of this publication may be used, shared or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact http://britneyking.com/contact/

  Thank you for your support of the author's rights.

  * * *

  Hot Banana Press

  Front Cover Design by Lisa Wilson

  Back Cover Design by Britney King

  Cover Image by Sebastian Kullas

  Copy Editing by TW Manuscript Services

  Proofread by Proofreading by the Page

  * * *

  Copyright © 2013 by Britney King LLC. All Rights Reserved.

  * * *

  First Edition: 2013

  ISBN: 978-0-9892184-0-5 (Paperback)

  ISBN: 978-9892184-1-2 (All E-Books)

  britneyking.com

  To Nannie

  with love.

  Chapter One

  Sometimes you have to look back in order to move forward. Sometimes you find yourself in a situation where that is the only thing you can do, which is exactly the situation Addison Greyer found herself in when she awoke in a hazy fog with something warm and wet trickling down her face. She tried to shift, to pull herself up, but it was useless. Her body hurt and nothing was right. This is what dying feels like. She did her best to recall what happened before she was in this predicament, but nothing came and it took so much effort to try and remember. It was almost more than she could manage. She told herself to breathe. But even that hurt. She brought her fingers to her face, or at least she imagined she did. It was hard to tell. She couldn’t see, she couldn’t feel, not really. It was cold, so cold. Addison inhaled carefully. Where am I?

  Before her brain could grasp the answer, she felt herself slipping backward, back into the darkness, back to sleep. She willed herself to wake up, to open her eyes, but it was of no use. Her brain and her eyes refused to cooperate with one another. She couldn’t focus on a single thought and she went in and out of consciousness several times before finally waking to the clanking of chains. Metal on metal. One second she was here and another there. What were those crazy boys doing now? And why can’t I wake up and make them stop?

  Her head throbbed. Her heart raced and she curled further into a ball. It hurt to move, not that she could move much and there was that sound again. Wake up, damn it. Wake up. Finally, her eyes fluttered open, though just barely. She could see a blurry figure standing a few feet in front of her but her eyes still refused to focus and she was too dizzy in any case to determine who it was. Focus, she told herself. What do you see, taste, smell, touch? Use your senses. The metallic scent of blood overwhelmed her. Aside from a dry mouth, that’s all she could taste. Blood. Is this a dream and if so, how do I wake up? She felt the chill of the concrete beneath her. Her head was too heavy to lift, but she forced herself to do it anyway. She wiggled her toes. She wasn’t dead. Again, she heard the clanking of the chains, which made her breath catch and then a male voice. “Wake up,” the voice demanded.

  Who was he? Did she know that voice? She thought before she felt herself start slipping again. Suddenly she was jolted awake by something slashing her skin. That did it. She opened her eyes just as the leather whip slashed again.

  “Wake up, it’s time to talk,” the booming voice commanded. It was muffled, disguised, it sounded as though she were hearing it from under water.

  Oh my God. How did I get here?

  Addison forced herself to focus. Pain tends to help people with that. She surveyed her surroundings and quickly realized she’d woken up in her very own version of hell. Glancing around the room, she realized it resembled a dungeon, the kind you might see on TV. The only lighting was a single bulb hanging in the far corner of the room. The room itself was cold, dark, and damp. Basement like. Thinking it was sweat, she reached up and wiped at the wetness on her forehead. But when she pulled her hand back all she saw was red. Her hand instinctively went to her neck. There was a chain around her throat, shackles on both her hands and feet and her clothes had been removed. Addison tried to get a look at the man, at the voice who spoke to her, but he was behind her, beyond her range of sight, somewhere in the dark. Plus, everything was so foggy. Where are the boys? She gasped. Where are my kids? Does he have them, too? She started to sob.

  The whip struck her again. She didn’t care. She couldn’t make the sobs quit coming. Struck, again and again, she did her best to shield her face and withdrew into herself trying to make her body as small as possible. As she crawled into a ball, she felt a tugging on the chain around her neck. She was choking. She couldn’t breathe. If it didn’t stop soon, the darkness was going to take her once again and she was powerless to stop it.

  The deep voice spoke again. “Look— we can do this the easy way or the hard way. It’s your choice. I actually prefer the hard way, so keep it up if you like. Just know…next come the shocks.”

  I’m going to die here. Oh God. No, not like this, please. Please, not like this. She thought of her children. What would they tell them? She shook her head hoping it might help. It didn’t. Just do what he says. It’s your job to figure out what he wants.

  It took everything she had to pull herself up to a sitting position but she held her palms out and then she did it. Eventually, she managed to prop herself up against the far wall of the cage. This is when he came into view, at least partially. He was wearing a ski mask with dark glasses over the eyeholes and that’s when Addison realized, he could be anybody. Still, she knew she needed to put as much distance as she could between them. Addison felt her survival instincts kicking in.

  She met his gaze head on. Not that she could see him, not really. But he could see her. He sat in a chair opposite the cage and watched her. Addison didn’t speak. She wanted to beg, to plead for her life. She wanted her kids and her clothes, she wanted out of there. Something deep down told her to keep her mouth shut. So instead of saying all the things she wanted to say she simply watched him, refusing to take her eyes away, her mind running a thousand miles a minute. The two of them stayed that way for an eternity, chills ran through her, tears fell involuntarily, but she didn’t look away. Until, finally, he got up from the chair and ascended stairs that were just beyond her line of sight.

  He was gone. She took a deep breath in and held it before exhaling slowly. He’s gone now. He can’t hurt you. Breathe. But he’s coming back. Breathe. Addison felt herself slipp
ing again, back into the fog, and she didn’t fight it. She laid herself down on the concrete floor, slowly and so carefully, unable to take the pain of each small movement. She was so tired, so weak, but it was the blood, and the awareness that he would be back that scared her most. He wanted her to suffer; that much was clear. The fog seemed like the only respite she had. It beckoned her. And she welcomed it.

  Addison dreamt she was sitting on the porch swing watching the boys play with Max. They would run the entire length of the yard, and he would chase after them. They were laughing, she was laughing, and it was nice to feel the warm sunshine on her face. She was glad she could feel the breeze blow across her skin. But then the opera music began and nothing seemed right. Why in the world would the sounds of the opera fill her backyard? Suddenly, Addison felt her arms and her legs being pulled in opposite directions. Hard. She opened her eyes and she wasn’t in her backyard at all, she was back in that cage, back in the dungeon and she was being stretched out from opposite ends. It hurt— although, for some reason the pain was dull—below the surface as though she were barely feeling it. She felt the sting of the whip across her belly, followed shortly by warm blood dripping from where the leather met her skin. She felt that. It wasn’t dull. It was sharp and jarring. But why? She asked herself. Why is he doing this? Why me?

  “Didn’t I tell you to wake up?” the man said. His voice wasn’t clear, she realized he was trying to disguise it, and this concerned her more than anything. If he’d planned to kill her right away, he wouldn’t care whether or not she saw his face or heard him speak. But he did.

  “You disobeyed me. I’ve told you and I’ve told you and I’ve told you. It’s time to talk. But no. You’re lazy. Just like the rest of them. I just hope you’re a little smarter.” He cocked his head. “Well… are you?” he shouted. “Are you ever going to learn your lesson?”

  He walked around her until she could feel his body heat. He placed a blindfold over her eyes. She struggled but it was pointless.

  “You aren’t allowed to sleep,” he said.

  “If I find you sleeping again, the punishment is going to be worse than a whipping. Do you understand?”

  Addison said nothing. She saw the hand that contained the whip rise. She held her breath just before it struck her across her thighs. It wasn’t so much the pain but rather the sound of the leather hitting her skin that made her sick, it made her stomach want to empty its contents.

  “So, are we clear Mrs. Greyer?” he asked toying with the whip. “From now on, when I speak to you, you show some respect.”

  Addison nodded. He addressed her by name, which meant he knew who she was. It also meant this was not random; it was not some sort of mistake.

  “That a girl. I always took you for a quick learner.”

  She thought about her surroundings once again. If she was gagged, that had to mean he was afraid people would hear her. Didn’t it? She recalled four corners of the room. Even before he’d blindfolded her, it was too dark to make out much, but she could feel that the walls were made of stone. And then, there was that smell. The stench alone overwhelmed her senses. It was pungent, a mixture of urine and alcohol standing out most. Where am I? His basement? A warehouse?

  She felt herself floating upward. She thought she was passing out again, or perhaps this was really it. Her eyes grew wide and she struggled against her restraints.

  “It’s the drugs that make you feel like that,” he said. “Well, that and fear…”

  Suspended in the air, naked, bleeding, and weak, all she could think about was closing her eyes and pretending to be in her backyard with her children, the sun on her face. So, that’s what she did. She needed to remain positive, to think of anything that would help her escape this hell. Addison forced herself to count. She was afraid she was going to lose consciousness and she’d heard his warning about sleep. He wanted her awake and now she understood why. She listened as he toyed with his whips and spikes, his tools of the trade. That was the thing about losing your senses. Everything else became more acute. This was a form of intimidation, she knew. But how? How did she know this?

  “I know you’re probably thirsty. Hungry. But since you haven’t yet learned to follow the rules, you get nothing.”

  After a bit of tinkering, she heard him turn and once again walked up the dark stairs without a word. It may have been hours or mere minutes. She couldn’t be sure. There was no concept of time. She had no idea what day of the week it was, how long she’d been there, or whether it was even day or night. It was with this thought that the tears came again. Only Addison didn’t sob this time. She was too weak. Instead, silent tears ran down her cheeks, falling onto her bare breasts. She tried her best to fight off sleep and when she caught herself dozing off, she’d play games with herself, recalling a memory of her boys, and then she’d replay it over and over in her mind in order to keep herself awake. She knew she had to get through this and to do that she’d have to stay alert, if she wanted to get out alive. But then, she had to get out alive. There was no other option. Her family needed her. Her children needed her.

  Throughout the time that the man was away, Addison dozed off and on despite her best attempts. But it was fitful sleep at best. When she allowed herself to close her eyes, she made sure her sleep was light, not so different from the early days, when her boys were first born and she’d force herself to stay awake to check on them, to make sure they were still breathing.

  Eventually, she heard the door creak and her eyes snapped open. Her heart raced as she listened to his footsteps fall on the stairs. Her stomach churned, unsure of what to expect. When he saw that she was awake, he chuckled. As he walked towards her, Addison’s pulse raced. The closer he got, the more she squirmed. She didn’t want to have this reaction, but it was innate. Her brain screamed for her to be still and to remain calm and yet the rest of her body betrayed her, giving away her fear.

  She felt him remove the gag. She trembled at his proximity. “There, there. Easy does it,” he whispered, trailing his cold hand down her cheek. “Don’t bother screaming. No one will hear you.”

  Addison tensed as he moved his hand away. When she felt it on her skin again, he was holding a straw to her lips. “If we don’t get some water in you, I’ll have gone to all this trouble for nothing,” he warned. “Now, be a good girl and take a drink.”

  She did as he said, taking a small sip at first, but then she couldn’t stop. She kept drinking until she choked, and he pulled the straw away. “Ok, I think that’s enough,” he said pulling the glass away and then replacing her gag. She held her breath as he took a step back and walked around the back of her. It made her uneasy when she couldn’t get a sense of where he was or what he was doing—but then, she was just as uneasy as when she could. “You look so beautiful,” he murmured. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen anything more beautiful in my life.”

  After several moments, he walked back around and stopped just in front of her. He removed the blindfold and then he stood there for a moment as her eyes adjusted, considering her. He tinkered with her chains, and when he seemed satisfied with how she was displayed, he stepped back and closed the door to the cage. She watched as he sat in a metal folding chair just outside the cage. He unbuckled his belt and removed it, laying it at his feet. Her pulse quickened and she couldn’t help but look away. “Look at me, damn it,” he ordered and she did as she was told. Hot, wet tears fell onto her cheeks as she met his gaze. His eyes tracked south as did hers and she could see that he was erect. “It’s my turn to give you a show,” he said as he began stroking himself. It took everything she had not to look away. Swallowing hard against the gag, she felt bile rise in her throat and she wondered what would happen if she were to be sick. He will kill you. She held her breath. She couldn’t help herself. It seemed to go on forever, and she grew dizzy as the man stared a hole through her.

  When he was finished, he stood, picked up his belt and unlocked the door to the cage. The hairs on the back of her ne
ck stood as he walked around her, just as he had the time before. He circled slowly a few times and then finally paused behind her, once again out of eyesight. He replaced the blindfold and then the gag. When he’d finished, she heard him raise the belt as she braced herself for the blow she knew was coming. The belt struck across her rear, forcing all the air from her lungs. Addison gasped; she moaned and tried to say her pleas against the gag. He struck her once, twice, three times until she lost count, each blow worse than the last. Eventually, unable to take any more, long after her silent pleas ran out, as did her cries, she hung her head.

  “You’re a bad girl, watching me like that. You should be ashamed,” he told her as he exited the cage. She listened as he placed the lock on the door. Her head felt too heavy to lift and she’d already come to her decision: if he killed her, he killed her. She could hear him dressing. She could hear his footsteps as he walked towards the dark corner. She flinched when she heard the cranking sound. It almost forced her to look up. Almost. Her body stiffened which only worsened the pain. She was being lowered and every inch felt like a mile. Slowly, she descended towards the cold concrete beneath her. When her body hit bottom, she’d expected it to hurt. Instead, she sighed at how good it felt against her wounded backside. She wept long after she heard the man turn and walk up the stairs. He could be anyone, she thought. But he knew her, and he wanted her to suffer.