by Viv Phoenix
I felt at fault in a weird way. Outraged as I was at Callum for leaving me bound, he fulfilled a fantasy I would never have dared tell anyone. He took control. He made me submit to him, to surrender to sexual pleasure. The man ate me out like he couldn’t get enough. Based on the complaints of my girlfriends, good oral from a man was a rare and treasured thing.
He dropped the chains with a clank and gathered me to him. I tensed, but I couldn’t stop myself from responding. Heat stabbed between my legs, right where he opened me with his enormous cock. He ruined me for all other men. I didn’t know how to live with him, but I couldn’t picture my life without him.
The big, raw lug destroyed everything I thought I was, everything I thought I was doing in my life. It was like I became a woman out of that old Ira Levin novel of Mom’s, The Stepford Wives. Levin created a creepy place where the women were compliant to the max.
A part of me could think of nothing more fulfilling than becoming this wild man’s bride. I must have read too much Big Foot smut back when that was the thing. It felt like I created this. He was a man out of my fantasies. He even smelled good, damn him. He sounded like my favorite actor.
What the fuck was happening to me? Was this some kind of breakdown? Was I going crazy? Something might have burst in my brain when I had that fit about Dad taking away my car keys. You don’t hear about it much, but young people have strokes, too. I dug my nails into my thighs, fighting to shut off my mind.
Callum dropped the chains, fumbled picking them up. He coiled them with the grace of a man who worked with his hands all his life. Bending in a way that showed off his strong back and his jeans pulling tight across his lean ass, he put them on a shelf. He gave me a lopsided grin over his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Sy. I meant it for your own good. You’re not use to this place yet. I don’t want any harm to come to you. You mean the world to me.”
What was it about him that made me melt? He was dangerous as a rabid dog. Was I out of my mind? Was being so angry at Dad worth putting my life in danger?
“Callum, it’s dangerous to trap someone. What if there was a fire? What if someone broke into the house?” I shut up. The doors didn’t have locks.
He stared at me, blinking.
“I’m sorry. Honest.” He there working out where to put his hands.
He rubbed them down his long, strong thighs. His pale eyes were as calm as pools on a still day.
“Oh, Callum. Please don’t do it again. Ask me first.”
He was so big and so sweet, and didn’t mean anything wrong by leaving me locked up. What was I going to do with this man?
“Okay. Next time, I’ll ask, or at least tell you first.” His sly, sexy smile promised there’d be a next time.
He walked back to the bed on his enormous feet.
I’d sneak to my phone later, tell Trish she was right about hands and feet showing cock size. I needed her to keep covering for me. This was insane, but I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to leave him.
Callum swallowed. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just don’t want you to run off.”
“I’m not running off.” I rubbed my wrists.
He took my hands and kissed the chain marks on my wrists. Damn, so hot, his lips caressing my sensitive, marked skin. He kissed all the way around each wrist. I jolted like an electrocution victim. Fuck me.
I don’t think I said it aloud. He unzipped. He guided his cock out with both hands. That glaze went over his face. He looked ready to pass out as his cock went from half mast to full hard. It got to me that looking at me did that to him.
I leaned forward and kissed the tip of his cock.
“I been waiting to do this since I chained you.” He slid his hand super slow down that long, veiny shaft. “This all for you, beautiful. I’m not going to be gentle.”
“I don’t want you to be gentle.” I caught my lip in my teeth. This white trash animal man could split me apart.
He pounced on me. Spreading me with his knees, he pressed kisses all over my breasts. His chin brush tickled my nipples. He gyrated his thumb into my wet pussy and strummed my clit. He nipped my throat and gave me a love bite over my jugular.
I moaned, crazy for him.
“Oh. That’s good. You weren’t too mad at me to get wet.” He grinned.
He notched the head of his cock at my opening and pushed hard.
I yelled. It felt like he was busting me all over again.
“Oh, Oh, Callum.” I lifted my ass off the bed to meet him and he bore me down, shoving all the way up me in one hard stroke.
I wailed. He kissed me, taking my cries into his mouth, consuming me.
He dug his fingers into my shoulders, shoving me far onto him, using me raw and hard. Damn, I loved it, loved him, needed him fucking me
“Fuck me!”
He roared, he fucking roared and pounded me with that pussy-reaming monster cock.
I raked him with my nails and he arched, nailing me, slamming me so hard I saw stars. I wondered if he was going to fuck me to death. I dug my nails into his ass and he rode me like a cowboy on a bronco. I kicked at the bed, my head rolling, hair flying, out of control under his slamming power.
His tattooed arms caged me. His teeth gleamed.
I licked one of his roses. I held onto his ass as he ground right against my womb.
“That’s it, Sy, you’ve got all of me.”
I lost it, calling out some ancient sound of the most primal pleasure a woman has.
He pinned me under him, kissing me hard. Arching back and growling, he shot deep inside me with roar that went to my belly and bones for always.
“Mine, my woman, Sy.. My bride. I captured you fair.”
“I love you so much, Callum Blake.”
“I love you just as much, Sy Thompson.”
He kissed me all over my face, his eyes shining. The man was scary as hell, but he had heart.
He held me to him, protecting and keeping me, as fierce and solid as any caveman laying claim to a cave woman.
I’d gone all the way back before language with him inside me. I’d be anything for Callum. As impossible as it seemed, I thought I was going to go through with it. I’d become his white trash bride.
In a few breaths his deep, after-sex breathing slipped to the deeper, slower breaths of sleep.
I rested in his arms, safe.
I wasn’t having bad thoughts anymore. No more diving into the dark alone at night. No more seductive want-to-die whispers.
I wasn’t alone any more. I watched Callum breathe. I felt at peace.
He kept breathing slow. The night was full dark. The crickets kept up a steady rhythm. I dared to lift his arm and slip out of bed.
I tip toed to the front room in the dark to text Trish. I was so excited, if I called, my voice might wake Callum. I couldn’t risk getting caught.
I reached into his coat pocket. My phone wasn’t there.
I checked the other pockets. It was gone. Panic pulsed in my chest, tightening there like a noose. That was my life line. The whole time, I figured if things got to the point I needed to bail, help was a button-push away. Dad’s bodyguard or any of the guys would be down the hill in a flash to extract me. I’d make sure they didn’t hurt Callum or press charges, but I could get away.
Now I had no exit. I stood there breathing fast, freaking. What the fuck had I done?
I stood still and slowed my breathing. Callum was still sound asleep. I tip toed in, searched his jeans. I’d have to wait for a chance to search drawers. The thought of him catching me made me want to pee.
Without a sound, I got dressed and carried my shoes out. I’d slip out for a walk, take a look up the hill. Trish covered for me, so no one should be looking for me yet, but I needed to remind myself that safety wasn’t too far away.
I walked through the yard in the rising mist. The herbs in the kitchen garden nodded under the weight of dew. The moisture kept dead leaves from crackling as I walked.
&n
bsp; I felt like I was betraying Callum, but I had to watch out for myself. I didn’t mean to leave. I just couldn’t stand being cut off from everyone. What if he kept me locked up all the time? I’d seen stories like that in the news. Women had offspring by their captors and weren’t found until years later. The captives changed beyond recognition from the missing girls.
Was I a missing girl? Or was I the chosen bride of the man I wanted more than I expected to want anyone?
I’d read about Stockholm Syndrome. What if I wasn’t in love? What if this was an aberration, something I should put every effort into escaping? I eyed the eucalyptus trees covering the hill under the baby blue sky. In winter, the sky would be pale enough o match Callum’s eyes.
The house was right up the hill. I could make a break right now.
But that would hurt him. I saw it in his eyes that his heart would break if he came home and I was gone. That’s why he chained me. He was protecting himself.
I entered the grove of trees. The gum tree leaves bruised under my sneakers. The pungent herbal scent surrounded me. I strained for a glimpse of the monster mansion Dad built above what he called ‘Hick Hollow.’ Moving here was against all sense. My abduction served him and Mom right. My body might be carrying the first of the white trash grand babies she feared.
Resting my hand on a smooth, young trunk, I closed my eyes and sent love to my baby in case we had one started.
That mansion wasn’t home. Even if I could glimpse it, there was the wall Dad built to keep the locals out. The dogs might go crazy smelling my man on me. They’d never smelled a man who smelled like a real man instead of cologne.
The rising sun burned away the mist. The pond reflected the cloudless sky. Something sparkled in the leaves beside the path to the fire road. I went to it and picked a chain out of the mulch. A silver necklace dangled from my fingers, a delicate one. It was a woman’s. A chill went through me: That woman. The one he told me he and his brothers and pa and uncle took turns on.
This place had already had a missing girl, and the man with her, too. I’d done my best to blank out the part about what Callum did to them with the corkscrew the man requested.
The clasp was broken, maybe she lost it on the way to the house. Or had she broken away, thought she was on her way to freedom, and been recaptured? Did Callum or one of his brothers get a hold of her here? I pictured the necklace breaking in the struggle, falling in the leaves to lie unnoticed.
I blinked against the sun’s brightness. I had to get back before he woke up. It would hurt him too much to find me gone. The chain glimmered on my hand. I blinked against the glare, eyes tearing.
Was it a warning? What kind of man was I about to marry?
Fingering the chain, I waited for a sense of what to do with it. It was evidence. If I took it to the police, not the local sheriff, they might link the necklace to the missing couple. Any body traces or DNA on the dismantled car could put Callum and his clan on trial for murderer. He’d go to prison, unless the case failed. It would all come out in the open, what he and his brother did, taking turns on that woman, killing her and the man, disposing of their bodies. The Blakes learned their methods thanks to TV crime shows.
My hands felt slick with sweat. A mourning dove landed on the tree across from me. He mate joined her with a nest twig in his beak.
Putting the chain back wasn’t an option. It could be worse if someone else found it.
I could keep the necklace, in case anything ever went wrong.
I closed my eyes.
Callum crooning to me, singing our baby his or her first lullaby filled me. The sweetness of us, who we were together, wiped away the past. That torturing sex criminal and murderer wasn’t my Callum. That wasn’t who he was anymore.
I hoped he didn’t kill them. That might have been one of the other Blakes. I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want to think about it ever again.
I rushed to the swimming hole. I tied the chain around a rock, wound up my arm like a pitcher, and threw it in to the center of the water. The chain caught the sun in the air, splashed, and disappeared.
Callum was my man, my husband.
I hurried back to the house. I needed to fix his breakfast soon. The man ate like a bear. I was about to become his bride by law. That went beyond his taking my virginity and training me to be everything he wanted in a woman.
How could I be ready to take such a huge step in my life? Thanks to Callum, I knew what to wear. I light-footed up the steps and across the porch. I had to get back in there before he awakened.
Opening the kitchen’s screen door real slow, I managed to get inside the house without it squeaking. I stood still. My heart thudded. Callum’s breathing sounded slow and even.
I measured his coffee into the percolator. Mist rose across the hillside, veiling the gum trees. There was something I needed to do.
At the basement door, I hesitated. My belly didn’t feel right.
I opened the door, felt for the string, and pulled it. I blinked against the bare bulb’s glare. It cast shadows, made the stairs look scary as a gallows.
What if Callum woke up up and locked me in down here? The trapped feeling from when he chained me tightened my chest. My feet balked. I remembered my first horse, how she’d blow herself up big to resist the saddle. I understood.
I scuttled down the stairs before I could think any more.
The collar and chains lay on the bed, the kind of dirty-sexy gesture an alpha hero would make in the hot books I liked. The heroine might resist. He’d overcome her resistance because he knew how to get to her.
Callum knew how to get to me. It was eerie, like he’d been reading my diary or something.
I slipped into the bathroom before I could lose my nerve.
The long lilac dress still hung next to the mirror. It looked like what a pure girl would wear when she meets her prince, the man fated to claim her treasure. It was sweet that that’s how my man saw me, as the virgin princess-angel of his dreams.
My eyes brimmed as I touched the frothy gown. It took me back to getting stuck in that window, Callum yanking me out, beating me with his belt. The beating stung, but it was the pain in his eyes that stayed with me.
I hurt him when I tried to leave. I didn’t want to hurt him any more. I wanted to make it up to him.
I looked in the vanity drawers and found what I expected: department store lingerie. He bought me a lacy lavender bra and panties set to match the dress. There was only one pair of stockings, so I saved those for our wedding day.
Thinking of Callum braving a women’s clothing department to shop for me melted my heart. I folded the tissue paper back over the stockings to protect them. My fingers shook.
I was going to stay. I made my choice.
I did it when I threw the necklace in the pond. Each thing I did now was another ripple of acceptance that I was about to become Callum’s bride. This was going the way way he planned. I checked the tags on the lingerie and the dress.
A chill went through me. They were my size.
The clothes were already here when he picked me up on the road and brought me here.
Everything went so fast: his insisting on bringing me here for iced tea, not letting me out, taking my virginity and training me to be what he wanted. It didn’t sink in before that he planned it all.
His stopping his big red truck for me was no neighborly coincidence. He planned on taking me far enough ahead to get things things in my size.
My heart beat fast. I shivered in the shadows. The two by fours nailed across the window like bars made the place colder. I clutched the lingerie, tempted to drop it on the floor and run.
I shifted my weight, feeling his cock inside me, his mouth on me, his hands holding me. He was so tender. He meant well. He could have hurt me bad by now if that was his intention.
He’d awaken soon. I was in the basement to get dressed for him, so that’s what I’d do.
Maybe other things weren’t a coincidence either—th
e way he sounded like my favorite actor, and did things to me I never admitted I wanted. Trish read the same books. I didn’t come right out and say I wanted a guy to dominate me, get rough with me, pin me down and fuck me so hard I’d scream and cry.
It made no sense. Callum couldn’t know those things. The dress size, I suppose he could guess. He’d looked at me enough in town.
I stepped into the panties, slipped them up my hips. They were perfect. The bra was an under wire style that clasped in front. I adjusted my breasts. It fit right. I felt like I’d stepped into an erotic version of a fairy tale.
I opened the cabinet under the sink. There were three shoe boxes with identical pairs of shoes in three different sizes. That was reassuring. He didn’t know everything.
I picked my size and stepped into them. They fit. The heel was moderate. No doubt he planned on me wearing them to church.
The dress slid on like a fantasy, the floating flounces taking me back to playing dress-up. It flared around my hips, hugged my waist and breasts.
I caught my reflection in the medicine chest. The dress looked better than it had on the hanger. I adjusted my cleavage.
I finger-combed my hair and mussed it. Biting my lips for color, I headed out of the basement. I tingled. As scary as the places was, it was where Callum took my virginity.
I held my gown and climbed the stairs like a princess heading to her prince.
Callum lay sprawled with his arm across his face. the morning light made his tattoos look new. Man, that man was big. He filled the whole bed. His enormous feel spilled off the edge. I’d have to help him order a bigger bed.
He shook himself awake. It was like he smelled me. He palmed his eyes, blinked.
“Sy. Oh, Sy. You look beautiful.”
“Thank you, Callum. The dress, underwear and shoes are lovely.”
His eyes glistened He pushed up into a sitting position, his muscles and tattoos writhing.
Now was my chance to explore them. I wanted to from when I first sat next to him in his truck.
