Black Velvet (The Velvet Rooms Book 1)

by Linnea May

  I am standing outside her door, watching it quake as she hammers against it from the other side, yelling for me to let her out. Pathetic.

  Even she must know that this will get her nowhere. I’m standing in the hallway, my arms crossed in front of my chest as I watch the door from a few feet away. Her hammering stops for a while, and I listen for her to say anything, but I am greeted with nothing but silence. When I step closer to the door, I can hear her moving around inside the attic. She must have kicked off her second shoe, as well, because I cannot hear heels clicking along the floor, just the faint sound of her bare feet padding across the wood.

  She’ll get bored soon. There’s nothing to see, nothing to do. Even if she erupts into a violent rampage, she wouldn’t be able to get out of that room. No one will hear her scream because there’s no one around for miles. Except for me. She’s too weak to break through the door with its safety lock, and there’s no way that she could break either one of the windows. Even if she did shatter the glass, the shutters would prevent her from getting any further.

  It only takes her a few moments to figure all of this out on her own, and as soon as she realizes how hopeless her situation is, she’s back at the door, banging at it with her small fists and screaming for me to let her out.

  I step away from the door, listening to the spectacle for a while, before I decide that I am getting bored of it. It’s late and I am getting tired. I’m sure she will wear herself out soon, as well. There are still traces of the narcotic in her system, even though it’s minimal at this point. Her anxiety, the confusion, all that adrenaline rushing through her body now that the most terrifying job she ever signed up for has effectively started—all of it combined with her erratic behavior will take its toll soon enough.

  She’s flinging unintelligible curses at me, worsening her punishment even more. I have no intention of listening to this any longer, so turn around to head downstairs.

  “There’s no bathroom in here!” I hear her shriek, just as I am about to reach the steps.

  I pause, a mischievous smirk gracing my face when I turn around and walk back to her.

  “You should have thought of that before!” I yell back at her.

  And with that, she turns quiet.

  Chapter 11

  Liana

  I awake curled up in a corner, the giant coat wrapped around me, stiff and cold after what has been the longest night of my life. My entire body hurts from falling asleep in an awkward position, and my right arm fell asleep under the weight of my body. Now it’s aching with trickling pins-and-needles pain as my limbs start coming back to life.

  I squint around the dimly lit room, still trying to figure out where the hell I am. My disorientation is soon replaced by the horror of realization. A pained groan flees my mouth when I edge up into a sitting position, stretching my sore legs and arms, trying to get the blood flowing again. Why did this have to happen to me while I was wearing the most uncomfortable outfit in my closet? This ordeal would be more bearable if I was wearing sweatpants instead of my tight-fitting suit. The ripped pantyhose leave me exposed to the cold of the room, and I’ll be surprised if I don’t end up with a bladder infection.

  It was the coldest night I’ve ever had to suffer through. God knows what I would have done without this coat. It was the only comfort under otherwise terrible circumstances. I pull up the collar and close the coat around my tired body. There is no way of knowing what time it is. Did I sleep through the night? How many hours have passed since I finally fell asleep? How many hours passed since that man left the room?

  The man I am supposed to call Master.

  A pain in my core reminds me of why I woke up. I have to pee, badly. With no access to any kind of bathroom, this is an actual problem.

  You should have thought of that before, he said. That asshole.

  Before what? Before I decided to be kidnapped and locked up? Before I insisted on asking him questions instead of following his orders like a dumb sheep? He acts as if I’m here of my own free will. How psychotic is this man?

  Yet, he is my only way out. For all I know, he may just leave me in here, let me pee myself or starve to death, but I should at least try to get his attention.

  “Hey!” I try to yell, but my voice produces nothing but a pathetic croak. My throat is sore from the cold and not having anything to drink… and from when he tightened his hand around it last night before he left.

  I clear my throat, trying to strengthen my voice.

  “Hey!” I yell again, and this time it’s stronger and louder. “I need to pee!”

  I wait for any kind of response, but there is none. Nothing but silence.

  “Please!” I add. “Please! I won’t try anything! I just need to pee!”

  Again, nothing. He may not even hear me. There is no way for me to know whether he left me here all by myself, sitting in the locked attic of an empty house that’s God knows where.

  “Hello?” I ask into the nothingness. “Are you still there? Please let me at least know if you’re still there!”

  Silence.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I hiss and get up on my feet. They are cold and stiff, just like the rest of my body, but I didn’t put my shoes back on. They may have provided a minimum of warmth, but more than anything, they hurt like hell. I placed them next to the door, neatly positioned next to one another, as if I was just a visitor, ready and able to leave at any time.

  “Hey!” I repeat, now banging against the door. “Say something! I know you’re there!”

  Of course, I don’t know if he’s here or not, but I feel like it cannot hurt to act confident, even if I am anything but that.

  “Say something!” I shriek, accelerating my pounding against the wooden door. That goddamn door.

  I stop when my fist begins to hurt and I no longer see a point in hurting myself for nothing. Breathing erratically, I pause and listen, trying to figure out if I really am here alone, or if he is lingering on the other side. I press my ear against the crack between the door and its frame, holding my own breath so it doesn’t drown out any noise that might be coming from the other side. For a few moments, I don’t hear a single sound, and just when I decide to withdraw in defeat, I can hear a step. Then another.

  Frightened, I jump back from the door, bracing myself for him to come inside. But he doesn’t show up. Then the sound of approaching steps stops.

  “Hello?” I ask, my voice lower than it was before. “You’re there. I can hear you.”

  Again, I am met with nothing but silence. He’s there, or rather, someone is there. I have no reason to believe that it’s anybody but him, and I don’t know what would scare me more - seeing him, or some other psychotic creep who might be even worse?

  My bladder is killing me, and the stinging pain reminds me that I don’t have much time left before I make this situation even worse for myself.

  “Please,” I say, switching to a pleading tone as I step back to the door. “Please, I’m in pain. Please, please, just let me out to use the restroom.”

  Nothing.

  Desperation spreads through my chest, choking me just as his hand around my throat did last night. I’m close to tears, helpless, weakened, and at a loss with my predicament.

  He’s right there. He can hear me, but he doesn’t react to my pleas. What am I supposed to do? Tears blur my vision as I lower my eyes.

  “Please,” I beg, my voice so low that I don’t even think he can hear me. “Please let me out. I can’t go on any longer. Please, please, please...”

  My words evolve into sobbing, as I bury my face in my hands, crushed with the loss of my last remaining hope. I’m going to pee myself, and won’t that just be the frosting on the cake of what is definitely the most horrible experience of my life? Is that what he wants? For me to utterly humiliate myself? What does he want from me?

  Then I realize, there is something he said he wanted from me. I look up, my eyes widening wit
h understanding, as tears continue rolling down my face.

  “Master,” I breathe. “Please, Master. I beg you to let me out.”

  I pause, holding my breath as I wait for his response.

  “I promise to be a good girl,” I add.

  Not even two seconds pass before I can hear steps approaching on the other side of the door.

  Chapter 12

  Joseph

  “Will you be a good girl from now on?” I ask, as I step inside and find her standing before me, squinting as the light from the hallway streams into her room.

  It’s the first time that I get a proper look at her. She was wrapped up in my scarf and bundled up in her coat when I brought her up here, and the poor lighting in this room did not allow me to really see her.

  She looks very different from what I expected based on her file. Sure, the last hours have left their mark on her. She looks disheveled and tired, her hair falls down around her shoulders in messy waves, and her makeup is smeared from all the crying. One of the first things I notice is the color of her hair. She’s a blonde, just as I prefer, but her hair is darker than it was on the few pictures I saw. I have only seen her in the dark because she hardly ever left the house during the daytime, but I never noticed that her hair color was so different. It’s more of a dark ash blonde than a true blonde.

  “Please,” she pleads, her lower lip quivering. “Master. Please, let me use the restroom.”

  I watch as she goes down on her knees in front of me, clasping her hands together in front of her chest, sobbing while she looks up at me. “Please.”

  “Get up,” I hiss at her. “That’s a pathetic display. You don’t ask for things like this.”

  A trace of bewilderment flashes across her pretty face, but for once, she follows my command without hesitation. She gets back up on her feet and wraps her arms around her torso, all while pressing her legs together.

  “You may go,” I tell her, and her eyes widen with relief. “If you promise to behave from now on. No backtalk, no questions, no hesitation.”

  She nods even as I speak.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” she says hurriedly. “Yes, Master. Anything you want, please just-”

  “And you’ll wear this,” I interrupt her, producing a leather collar from my pocket. It’s a very simple design, just a slim, black leather collar with the obligatory d-ring in the front.

  I hold it up to her, and I can see her eyes flicker when she realizes what it is. I don’t know if it’s panic or excitement, and I hope for her sake that it’s a little bit of both.

  She nods again, remaining still when I close the collar around her neck. It’s just a training collar, nothing fancy. She could even open the clasp herself and take it off on her own volition.

  However, it’s better for her if she doesn’t.

  “You cannot take this off,” I tell her, after fastening the clasp at the back of her neck. “Never. Understand?”

  She looks up at me. “Yes... Master.”

  “Good girl,” I say. “Now come.”

  I hook my finger around the d-ring and turn around, pulling her with me as I march out of the room. She’s a lot shorter than I am, and has trouble keeping up with my long strides. I don’t want her to look around too much once we leave her cell. We’re heading through a narrow corridor with big windows to the left. I can see her head turning toward them as we move along, squinting at the rising sun. It’s early morning, and she has been alone in her cell for about six hours. I didn’t get much sleep myself. I never sleep well the first night a new girl is here. There’s too much anticipation, too many thoughts running through my head, so much to look forward to - and so much to fear.

  I wonder if she slept at all. She stumbles next to me, her hands rising up and holding on to mine as I pull her along by her collar. She tries to ease the tension on her throat by putting her own hands between mine and the collar, but it doesn’t do much.

  At least this struggle keeps her occupied enough not to pay too much attention to her surroundings. We are leaving the corridor behind us, reaching the open space that has the stairs leading downstairs on the left and another, longer corridor to the right. We take the route to the right, as I lead her to her new home. The entire uppermost floor will be hers, but she won’t get to see anything else for the next thirty-nine days. Three doors branch off from this hallway, and that is it.

  And the attic she just came from. She may hope never to see that room again, but I doubt this was her last night within its confines.

  I stop in front of the last door, quickly unlocking it before I push her inside ahead of me. She has trouble maintaining her balance when I shove her into the bathroom. The room is not very big, but still causes her to gasp in awe when she steps into its interior. I prefer a sleek and modern design for my own living area, but for this bathroom, which will only be used by the girls, I’ve hired an interior designer to come up with a more feminine touches. There’s white marble all around, heated floor tiles, a glass-enclosed shower next to a hot tub. I splurged on high-end fixtures and custom finishes, such as gold and crystal accents and a mirror above the vanity that covers almost the entire wall. The window is small and unobtrusive, but it’s the first thing her eyes wander to.

  “You’re on the third floor,” I tell her. “And all windows have a security lock that can only be opened by me. Don’t get any ideas.”

  She turns around to face me, her eyes piercing through me with passionate hate. Very good, she’s playing her role perfectly.

  I nod toward the toilet at the other end of the bathroom. “I thought you needed to go.”

  She nods, but doesn’t move. Instead, she looks at me expectantly.

  “I am not leaving,” I tell her. “You either do it with me in the room, or not at all.”

  Her eyes widen in horror.

  “No,” she whispers. “Please, just a minute of privacy. I promise I won’t-”

  “No,” I interrupt her. “Not an option.”

  “But-”

  She pauses, her eyes darting back and forth between me and the toilet she so desperately needs. She bites her lower lip and averts her eyes as she walks over to the toilet, hissing curses at me in such a low whisper that I cannot perceive their meaning.

  Chapter 13

  Liana

  “Why are you doing this to me?” I ask, my voice muffled by my hands as I hide my face behind them. I am so utterly ashamed, stripped of any pride as I sit on the toilet. His eyes remain trained on me as I relieve myself.

  This is so humiliating, even worse than the time I was dumb enough to volunteer to perform a solo while singing for the chorus in high school. I forgot the lyrics in the middle of the song and made a gigantic fool of myself in front of the entire school, but right now, it feels like such a mundane thing. This is worse by far.

  Of course, he doesn’t answer my question. I try to forget that he’s even there, and finish without ever lifting my eyes to look at him. Even when I walk over to the arguably fancy sink to wash my hands, I don’t glance at him.

  Regardless of the situation, I can’t help but notice how lavish all of this is. If this hadn’t been such an excruciatingly horrid experience, I could relish in the beauty of this luxurious bathroom. The light marble tiles feel warm beneath my frozen feet, and the golden fixtures on the sink appear to be made of real gold, not just painted over. There’s a glass-enclosed shower cabin that is easily big enough for two people. The same goes for the jacuzzi tub right next to it.

  Whoever this man is, he’s not your ordinary psychopath, but a filthy rich one.

  “Do you want to take a shower?” he asks, pulling me away from my stream of thoughts.

  Yes, my mind cries. Yes, I want nothing more than to get rid of these uncomfortable clothes and wash away the horror of last night.

  But what I want even more than that is for him to let me go.

  “I want to go home,” I say, standing before him with my arm
s crossed in front of my chest. As humiliating as the last few minutes were, the relief I feel now empowers me with a strength that I thought I had lost forever when I was caged up in that attic. I am still wearing the red coat over my business outfit. More and more, this hideous piece of clothing begins to feel like armor. This coat kept me warm, it provided the least bit of comfort I was allowed, and now I feel as if it has the power to protect me against him.

  He narrows his eyes.

  “You’re not going home, and you know that,” he says. “You’re mine now.”

  He keeps repeating himself without ever giving me a clear reply. Maybe he’s a politician and used to giving responses without ever answering a question.

  Well, two can play at that game.

  “I want to go home,” I repeat. “I want you to let me go.”

  He sighs and shakes his head, worrying me as he takes a step toward me. I move away from him on instinct, but he doesn’t let me gain any distance between us. His hand darts forward, catching hold of the ring attached to my collar. He pulls on it, so that I’m forced to lean forward, drawing me closer to him. He pulls me up and even closer, wrapping his other arm around me and pressing my body against his, while I choke against the strain he forces on my throat.

  Fuck, he’s strong. And so freaking gorgeous. How can a monster like him look like this? Like a goddamn Adonis. If I’d ever run into him on the street, I’d be intimidated by his handsome looks to no end. Just based on his looks, he’s the kind of man who makes me weak in the knees.

  Sadly, he’s also the kind of man who drugged, kidnapped, and locked me up in a cold attic for an entire night.

  “If you say that one more time,” he hisses. “You’ll go back in the cell, and this time, I won’t let you out for a little potty time. Do you understand?”