by Devon Ashley
“Please don’t hurt him,” I found myself begging. Captivity would be that much more torturous knowing I caused him harm, or worse, death.
His hands slid down to grip both my upper arms, and I knew in that moment, I was absolutely trapped again. I was his, despite my futile attempts to keep him at bay. “I didn’t kill him last time and I won’t kill him this time, provided you agree to do what I say.”
I swallowed hard. Even saying this in complete darkness wasn’t easy. “I will.”
He turned me around in his grip and shoved me into the bedroom, not coming to a stop until we reached Nick’s bedside. My eyes had finally adjusted to the dark, the moon lighting the room with the palest of silver glows. Nick looked so at peace, lost in a dream I’d sell my soul to be our reality.
Zander released me. One arm moved to wrap loosely around my neck, as the other slipped beneath the oversized t-shirt I was wearing. He pressed his mouth to my ear and whispered, “How does it feel, hmm?” His hand made it all the way to my breast, where he stopped and played for a while. I squirmed against the invasion, leading him to wrap his other arm around me more tightly. My hands flew to pull against it, but I knew better than to struggle too hard. He was baiting me on purpose, and the more I wiggled, the more aggressive he was, fondling me so hard I winced in pain.
“To know that I could literally bend you over and fuck you right on top of this guy, and there’d be nothing he could do about it? He’d just sleep right through it, while I took what you claim is his.” A few tears began to fall as I stood absolutely still. In return, his assault on me lessened in intensity, but the softness of his hand against such an intimate part of my body still sickened me. “But you’re not his, right?” he led. “So there’s no reason for me to feel territorial and do something like that. Right?”
“Right,” I agreed with a whisper. I pinched my eyes and swallowed hard, forcing out, “He was just watching out for me while you were busy. But you’re here now. So we can be free of him now.”
I couldn’t stop the floodgates as they opened, but I cried my tears in absolute silence, trying to feel dead inside. Because dead was what I was going to have to be to endure this. I was going to have to try to force myself from feeling things. I was going to have to let my heart shut down and forget about the love I was leaving behind in this bed. Otherwise, Zander was going to eat me and my feelings alive. He devoured them last time, craved them, like they were his fucking drug. He fed off of every manipulating thing he did to me. And he already picked up right where he last left off.
This was why he came back for me. This was why he wanted me and not some broken little girl he could pick up at auction. He wanted me because I was alive. Because I felt. Because the pain was etched on my face every time he won. And because he loved fucking with me in every possible way.
My neck felt heavy. My eyes too. And there was this disgusting metallic taste in my dry, cotton mouth that was making me queasy. I forced my tired eyes open, focusing in on a dark brown ceiling fan that didn’t look familiar. Snapping upward, I inhaled a burst of air so sharply it stung my lungs, but I couldn’t go far. Secured around my wrists were leather straps that attached me to a massive wood and iron headboard for a king-sized bed. I was dressed in an all too familiar style of silk slips, disturbingly aware that I was once again without any kind of underwear. Thankfully, a soft cotton sheet layered beneath a blanket kept me covered.
Thankfully? Did I just seriously think that word in my head?
I remember… My memory was a bit fuzzy, but I remembered Zander coming to steal me away again. I remembered him threatening Nick. I remembered him forcing me to strip and take a shower, washing every little inch of me. I remembered the water was too cool because the water heater had no power. As I fingered my scalp, I felt the oil settled on my roots. That had to have been several days ago. I couldn’t remember anything after that. Not even what he did to knock me out.
Or Nick. I squeezed my eyes tight, the cage around my heart compressing heavily, my throat feeling constricted. Please. Please tell me he kept his word and didn’t hurt him. As much as I hated to admit it about the fucker, Zander seemed a man of his word. He always did exactly what he said he would do, or hopefully in this case, wouldn’t do.
I licked my dry lips and assessed my surroundings. There was a large window in the room that showed nothing but the base of numerous trees. No drapery. Not even blinds. And it wasn’t tinted in the slightest, because really, why would it be when nothing but the forest surrounded you? And of course, it would be unbreakable.
Minimalism seemed to be the recurring theme throughout the room. In the far right corner was a chaise, tufted and shaded dark red like the bed linens. There was a massive built-in in the wall to my right, which I assumed was locked judging by the touch screen stuck to the outside, and most likely contained the same computer and security things the last one had. There were no bedside tables or décor items, not even on the wall. Basically nothing that I would be able to pick up and use as a weapon against him. All that was left was a similar space his last bedroom held, a four by six rug with a set of manacles lying atop it that were attached to a steel loop in the floor. I shivered, remembering all too well what it was like to be chained to a spot like that night and day.
Soft music played from a speaker I spotted in a top corner. The only light came from the ceiling fan that spun in the center of the room, its crystal globe dimmed to a level typically used to set the mood. I swallowed hard as I stared at a camera that pointed directly at me from the middle of the far wall, which hung directly above the flatscreen.
My mouth fell agape. It shouldn’t have surprised me, but it still did a little. The music, the dim light. He knew I was close to waking up. And I knew he liked to keep track of the cameras using his cell phone. My eyes instinctively twisted to look at the metal chains I was attached to. These weren’t attached to a pulley system like the other pair on the rug. I knew from horrible experience that he could control those from his phone, too.
I heard a beep and my head whipped leftward for the door. Oh, shit. Not already. Two seconds later, the door slid inside the wall and Zander entered, the door swishing back in place. He wasn’t blond anymore but a brunette. Maybe to better hide himself after the raid? Everything else was the same though. Hazel eyes with a thick inner ring of fiery gold, square chin, dimples when he extended his smile just a little too far for comfort, and enough muscles to keep me indefinitely pinned.
He coolly looked my way as he approached the side of the bed I was attached to. I hated how vulnerable I was right now, chained down to his damn bed, nowhere to run even if there was a snowball’s chance in hell I could find a way out of his fortress. In a little house no one will ever know about…
I couldn’t help but notice I wasn’t utterly afraid of him this time, tears not even threatening to run. Did I already know? Had I come to terms these past few months that this was my fate no matter how far I ran or how well I hid? I always knew he’d find me, even before I learned about the tag he had somewhere inside me.
All I knew was that I couldn’t let him scare me this time, manipulate me to no end. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of keeping me living in fear. Not this time.
“How do you feel?” he asked, like we were lifelong friends and I wasn’t here to be used as his fucking love slave.
“Nauseous.” It was the truth, but I probably would’ve said it anyway. Maybe the possibility of me throwing up on him would keep him from raping me anytime soon.
His nod was infinitesimal. He reached out to examine the straps around my wrists, his fingers too soft against my skin. “You didn’t untie these. Why?”
“Is that a trick question?” I wasn’t a fucking moron. I knew I had enough slack and that I could’ve reached over and removed them, but I also knew this was a test. Even if I had stayed in bed after taking them off, there was a ninety-nine percent probability it would’ve ended with him beating my ass. I wanted out of this house,
but right now, I had no desire for it to be by way of body bag.
He shook his head slightly in way of answering my question. “Because,” I replied, and as much as it pained me to say it, I quietly added, “you haven’t given me permission to yet.”
Well that tickled the jerk. “And here I thought I’d have to beat the submission into you. I’m glad you’ve remembered it’s best to respect my rules.” He reached over again and began unfastening the leather binds. “The nausea is because you’ve been out for several days without food or water.”
Which also explained the cotton mouth, the dry, itchy skin and my headache.
Anger raged inside me. I stiffened my jaw before I could snap at him. “You –” abducted, stole – there were so many words I wanted to say but knew I couldn’t – “came to get me just to keep me sedated?”
One wrist was freed and dropped back down to my side. “I told you. I wasn’t entirely prepared for you just yet. I’ve had to take care of a lot of last minute additions.”
“So I’ve just been chained to this bed and left unconscious?” Fucker. Not that I wasn’t complaining about him not getting to really screw with me until this point, but still… Fucker.
“No. I left you with the man who gave you another round of laser treatments for your skin damage. I just went to collect you this morning.”
My second hand fell freely to the bed and I found myself rubbing soothing circles to each wrist. I looked down, but the lack of light made it difficult to tell the difference with my burns. And they would turn redder before fading again anyway. He must’ve given me something to ease the sting, because I wasn’t feeling the uncomfortable sensations I knew followed one of those treatments. Still, I was annoyed. He was responsible for some of this so-called damage in the first place.
Boldly, I asked, “If you find damaged skin so displeasing, then why did you cut mine up to begin with?”
Oddly enough, his curled smirk told me he was more entertained by my comment than offended. I was lucky this time. I really needed to keep my lips sealed before he split them open for me. Silently, he grabbed at my wrist and pulled me off the bed, then shoved me lightly towards the door. Guess it was time for the tour and obligatory do’s and don’ts of the house. Just as well. It’d give me a chance to figure out my best exit strategy.
I paused just shy of the door, but with a powerful surge to my back, he slammed me up against it, smothering me from behind. I gasped. The door was freezing! Like it was made of steel and painted to match. I gulped when his left hand trailed up my thigh and cupped my ass cheek, his knee moving between my legs to kick them apart. No, no, no, no, no! Not already!
He swept my loose hair to the side before his mouth bit a fiery kiss into my neck. I absolutely froze with fear as both of his hands began roaming the skin beneath this flimsy lavender slip. He yanked on my hips and pulled me back just enough for his hands to have room to make their way to my breasts. I whimpered at the intrusion, but he interpreted it as the complete opposite of how I felt. With one last bite to my neck, he removed his hands from my slip. His abdomen pushed against me as he placed his hands firmly on the door around me, keeping me tightly entrapped. My forehead pressed firmly into the door, hiding the sour expression I made the moment his stiffened dick pressed against me.
“For the record, I find your sass extremely attractive, but I should warn you that my mood is going to determine one of two responses. Either I’m going to want to bend you over and fuck you right there, or I’m going to want to beat the shit out of you.”
“I’m sorry,” I said through heavy breaths, not wanting to earn either situation. Ever.
“Don’t be sorry, love. Be ready to deal with whatever response you elicit from me.” He yanked me back again, his left hand digging into my shoulder. My heart tried to leap from its prison, pounding harder and harder.
I found my mental health disturbing, as I hoped for option one instead of two. Oh, God. I’d let him screw me if it meant I wouldn’t be beaten and left in miserable pain again while I healed.
But instead of doing either, he simply placed his right thumb pad on the electronic device, leading the door to beep and swish open. A series of buttons suddenly appeared on the screen, letting him choose how long the door should stay tucked away in the wall – five seconds, one minute or remain open. He tapped the blue outlined button that chose five seconds and pushed me through. If that touchscreen opened the door, I was completely curious what the rectangular box beneath it did. It also appeared to be touch activated, but it was three times the size and likely used to house something.
The door soon closed and he led me down a hallway painted beige, with ceilings that were at least ten feet high and held three recessed pocket lights spaced evenly apart. Shit, everything was out of reach in this house. We passed three more doors that were closed with the same locking mechanism, and I moaned inside of me. Fucking cameras. He probably saw me reading up on circuitry. Unfortunately, I didn’t understand a lick of what I was reading, but he didn’t know that. He upgraded his doors in case I did learn how to bypass them. Dread began to suffocate me because I had absolutely no idea how to get past these doors without his thumbprint. Even if I knocked him out, I wouldn’t be able to lift his body that high. I’d have to…
Ugh. I decided not to think about it for the moment. My nerves were twisting my stomach enough as it was.
My eyes widened as I descended the two steps into the main living room, the hardwood beneath my feet extending throughout the house. Immediately searching for the front door, I saw it to the right between the living and dining rooms. It was heavy and massive looking – and without a fucking door knob. Damn thing had some kind of touchpad too, which must’ve automatically released it to swing open. Thick beams of dark wood shot all the way up from floor to an extremely high ceiling, the entire back side of the house nothing but glass windows showing an endless forest view. “Oh, my God,” I muttered. “Next you’re going to tell me those are shatterproof.”
“Nothing less. The windows were more expensive than the entire security system and if you so much as scratch even one of them, I will tear into you with equal abandon.”
He didn’t say it coldly, but I took his threat to heart, because I knew he was entirely serious. He always meant the things he said.
The living and dining room were as bare as the bedroom in way of objects that would be handy for me to grab and use as a weapon. Even the dining room chairs were made of heavy wood. I had the distinct feeling that anything small enough for me to handle would be in the kitchen, where I doubt he’d allow me anytime soon. Its door required a thumb print like all the rest. He sat me down in the chair directly in front of that kitchen door, then activated it to open.
“Turn around.”
I sighed quietly to myself and did so. Apparently I wasn’t allowed to watch whatever he was doing in the kitchen either. He could be poisoning the food for all I knew. After a few minutes of random noises and two minutes of hearing the microwave run, he set a bowl of soup down in front of me with chicken, pasta and vegetables, and took up the chair to my right, which was the head of the table. His attention already on his cell phone, he told me, “Soup will be gentle on your stomach. Tomorrow you can have a real meal.”
I nodded my understanding. “Thank you.”
Jesus. I withheld the urge to roll my eyes. Did I really just thank this guy for something? Funny how my mouth knew to say that before giving my brain a chance to think it over and veto the remark. Or worse, tell him to fuck off.
I stirred the soup with my spoon, watching the steam wither away in the air above it. I assumed the food was safe to eat. If he wanted to kill me, he could simply shoot me. And if he wanted to poison me, he could simply stick me with a needle. Not to mention he didn’t keep anything poisonous in his house. Last time every chemical he had was completely nontoxic.
My stomach was killing me. The smell had wafted through my nose, making my hunger pains scream at me that much mo
re, wanting me to eat it regardless. I blew on a spoonful and swallowed, hardly noticing the taste.
“Where are we?” I asked, my gaze shifting to the brown and green landscape through the panoramic dining room window.
“Far enough into a forest that no one will ever hear you scream.” My eyes widened and rotated his way. As if he could feel my gaze, he blinked once, his eyes suddenly in direct line of sight with mine. “With ample room to bury a body that will never be discovered again.”
I swallowed, and I hadn’t even bothered to put any soup into my mouth.
“Now eat,” he commanded, going back to whatever he was doing.
I did as he instructed, no longer interested in testing him for information. Sitting there, he seemed tired. Probably because of all the preparations he claimed to have done these past several days. Which was apparently my fault for finding new ways to keep him from successfully stealing me. So the last thing I wanted to do was piss him off while he was clearly in one of his moods.
I brought the glass of water to my mouth, not even amused that what I thought would be heavy glass was actually a very lightweight hunk of plastic. Why did I have the feeling any knives I got to use in the future would be plastic throwaways? Or perhaps he’d cut my meal into bite size pieces to begin with.
I finished a few minutes later, feeling sated but not full. At least my stomach was happy enough not to bother me anymore right now. He disappeared into the kitchen with my bowl and glass, and by the sound of running water, cleaned them right there on the spot. When he returned, I heard a beep and the door slide back into its locking position.
“Come on,” he said, and I finally allowed myself to get up and turn around. “Back to the bedroom.”
So not where I wanted to go. “Do I get my own room?” I asked casually, praying for a favorable answer. But my hope was smashed to itty-bitty pieces when he replied, “Why would you need your own room? Your duty is to pleasure me.”
