Deadly Captive

by Bianca Sommerland

  Turning away from the mirror, I faced them, inhaling deeply. "So what now?"

  Bruno shrugged. "How 'bout a movie?"

  I cursed him in my mind for displaying such normalcy, which was much more disarming than anything else he could have done. Dropping my hip, I set one hand on the other. "You suggest Blade, and I'm gonna slug you."

  Both Bruno and Chrissie laughed.

  "Does that mean you're not interested in watching Bram Stoker's Dracula?"

  Chrissie quipped.

  "How about Lost Boys?" Bruno continued with a little smile.

  I crossed my arms and gave a nonchalant shrug. "You guys so fixated on that theme we can always go for Buffy."

  They both groaned.

  "Please tell me you're talking reruns of the show and not the movie. I refuse to sit through that atrocity," Chrissie whined as she led the way out.

  Bruno let me pass then closed the door behind us. "I wouldn't mind watching the last few seasons. Some of the sex scenes are hot."

  I held back my own groan. So it was back to that.

  It was a struggle to think of a movie that wouldn't make them think of sex. I recalled titles, but couldn't remember seeing them, couldn't remember most of the scenes, although I had vague recollections of themes and plots. Focusing on the most non-sexual movie I could think of, I took a few moments to go over what little the title brought to mind. After making absolutely certain there was nothing the least bit provocative about it, I decided to suggest it and gauge from their reactions what they had planned.

  " Simon Birch?" Bruno repeated with a frown. He was easy to read. There was no doubt at all he'd been hoping to get some play and was hard pressed to figure out how he would accomplish that with the movie I'd mentioned.

  Chrissie was the one that confused me. She reached out and touched my cheek.

  "Are you sure you want to watch something that has such a sad ending, Lydia? You've known so much sadness already."

  I looked into her eyes. "What do you suggest, Chrissie?"

  She met my steady gaze without blinking. "How about Enough?"

  Staring at her, I licked my lips, trying to figure out where the hell she was coming from now. An overview of the movie passed through my mind, too quickly for me to grasp much, but enough to notice all the ways the main character's situation in the movie could be compared to my own. A story of a woman triumphing over her oppressor, against all odds. The symbolism worked for me, but somehow putting ideas like that in my head, assuming they weren't already there, seemed counterproductive.

  I tugged on the collar of my jacket, fiddled with the zipper, then nodded. Letting Chrissie take my hand to lead me to yet another room, I tore my thoughts from my misgivings, sensing it would do more harm than good to trap myself in suspicions.

  Instead, I would keep well tuned to everything that happened around me, react in the moment, and use every second granted to me to rest and gather strength.

  When we arrived in the room, I was pleasantly surprised. Fine, the television was still as excessively large as I'd been sure it would be, but, other than that, the room had a simple, homey appeal. The sofas were big and leather, but the leather wasn't stiff and new. The wood floor was covered by a plush oval rug, shaded a nice rich blue, and there was a long coffee table, covered by black woven cloth, bearing a spread of snacks in colored bowls.

  The normalcy was unnerving. Rather than comment on the décor, I walked to the coffee table and took a chip, making a face when I slipped it in my mouth, expecting regular flavor. "Uck. Whatever that was, I don't like it."

  Bruno laughed, walked over, and grabbed a chip from the same bowl. He took a tiny bite. His grin widened. "Pickle. That's my favorite. We got a good variety since we didn't know what you preferred."

  I held back the automatic response that came to mind. Bruno already knew I had no clue what my own preferences were. He didn't need to know how much it still bothered me.

  At a loss as to what to say, I grabbed a handful of orange-powdered ripples chips from another bowl. Taking a seat on the comfortable looking wing chair, I set my feet on the edge of the cushion, knees bent, and rested on the low arm, waiting for Chrissie to finish setting up the movie. Bruno brought me a glass of soda, accepting my quiet thanks with a nod, and set it on the small round table at my side. I was happy he had caught on to the fact that I wasn't much up to conversation.

  The movie started. Finishing my chips, mouth numb from the strong, strange taste, I took my glass and sipped at it absently, not taking my eyes from the screen. I was completely engrossed, not even caring that nothing I saw was familiar, though I was sure I must have seen it before. It was a nice change, simply relaxing, watching drama unfold before me without having to be part of it. After a while, I even forgot Bruno and Chrissie were there.

  Setting my glass down without taking my eyes from the screen, I slipped off the chair and stretched out on the floor on my belly, a little closer to the television.

  Mumbling curses at the brute husband when he lashed out at the little girl, anxious to see what would happen next, I didn't notice when Bruno sat at my side.

  I ripped my eyes from the screen at the touch of a hand on my back. I turned my head. Bruno wasn't looking at me. He was watching the movie, but he was distractedly moving his hand back and forth over my back. His touch made me a little nervous, but it was harmless enough, so I said nothing. Eyes back on the television, I tried to ignore him. I was able to do so, until I felt his hand slide down my butt.

  Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply, waiting to see if he would move it himself.

  Twisting a little, I tried to displace his hand, hoping he had placed it there by mistake. It was a foolish notion. He made that clear when he began to massage one cheek, squeezing hard enough that it was apparent he wanted me to notice—and object.

  I quickly obliged. Turning on my side, I frowned at him. "Must you?"

  Bruno left his hand on my hip and looked at Chrissie.

  Chrissie sat up from where she'd reclined on the sofa, letting out a weary sigh.

  "Can't you just enjoy the movie, Bruno?"

  Bruno scowled at her. "I'm tired of waiting."

  Chrissie motioned with her hand and inclined her head. "Go ahead."

  Permission granted, Bruno reached out for me. I rolled away and shot to my feet.

  "Bruno, don't!"

  Bruno laughed at me. "Why the hell not? Are you going to stop me?"

  Biting back the naïve objections that rolled to the forefront of my mind, I stood my ground, head high. "I'm going to try."

  Hands closed around my arms. Too fast for me to follow, Chrissie had grabbed me from behind. I was trapped.

  "You are not going to try, Lydia. You are going to give in, and you know we can make you." She pulled me back against her and breathed heavily against my throat.

  "Don't fight it. You've just gotten all these new clothes, had the chance to enjoy a movie and snacks. Behave yourself, and it needn't hurt."

  I wanted to cry, but doing so would have been stupid and indulgent. I didn't care. Though I had known deep down that the kindness was a ploy, though I had known better than to let my guard down, the abrupt turnaround had knocked me off balance. More now than ever, I was being forced to face a bitter reality. I was their toy, their pet. They were free to play with me, coddle or neglect me, and abuse me as they saw fit. The neglect and the abuse had been easier to take. The mixture of care and cruelty stung like a fresh wound. I didn't know how to isolate myself from the pain it inflicted.

  Chrissie slid my jacket from me. "You ever wonder how Joe got all his nice clothes, Lydia?" Her question stilled me. I let her take the jacket. She set it aside and began to rub my bare arms, curving her hands over my shoulders, massaging them a little before she continued. "He earned them. Each and every piece. And he didn't earn them by being obstinate." Running her fingers up my throat, exposed since my hair was drawn back in a tight ponytail, Chrissie began to kiss the soft flesh behind m
y ear. I shivered in response. "If you remember, Mary got a lot of gifts as well, but, then again, she was useful only in how she could be used against you and Joe. Still, her bending to Cyrus's will was rewarded."

  Tired of being left out, Bruno stepped up to me, hooking his fingers under the bottom of my shirt. "Just imagine all you could have, Lydia, if you gave in to me and Chrissie. Clothes, food, protection . . . ." He nudged my hands out of the way and rolled my shirt up.

  Trapped in confusion, I let him take the shirt from me. The only discernable thought in my head was that I didn't want the clothes ripped. Keeping my flesh and limbs intact would be nice, too.

  "What do you want?" I asked. I remained motionless as Bruno removed my bra.

  Bruno smiled at me. "For now, let's start with something simple. Let me take off your clothes, and you can keep them, no matter what else happens. Even if you balk afterward, the clothes are yours."

  I nodded without much conviction. I hardly cared what happened anymore.

  Bruno got down on one knee and slowly unlaced my boots. Without difficulty, I balanced on one foot and then the other as Bruno tugged the boots off. I didn't react to the removal of the boots, just as I had not reacted to Bruno's stripping off my clothes and carefully folding them while I watched. I didn't react to Chrissie sucking at the soft flesh of my ear, and I almost succeeded in remaining aloof when she latched on to my neck.

  Her fangs teased, but she didn't bite down. I waited for her to sink her teeth into my flesh, knowing that, once she did, it was doubtful I'd have any objections to whatever they had in store. I arched my neck, hoping she'd think the movement was involuntary.

  Her throaty chuckle told me she wasn't fooled. "Not now, Lydia, but later.

  Definitely later."

  Cold moved over me as she backed away. I stood, naked, alone, and exposed.

  Fists clenched at my sides, I vowed to myself that I wouldn't let them break me, no matter what they did. The thought braced me, but my strength lasted no longer than the time it took for them to clear the coffee table and remove the black cloth.

  It wasn't a coffee table. It was a coffin. Nothing elaborate, just a sleek black, rectangular box, flat on the top, with a latch on one side. Bruno flipped open the top, revealing an interior that was much more lavish than the exterior. The lining was black velvet; the little pillow of the same material had not a single indent. It had obviously never been used, despite my first thought that either Bruno or Chrissie must have slept in it.

  And it seemed just a little too small for either of them.

  Bruno took my hand, gently leading me toward it. "Go ahead, Lydia. Try it out.

  It's quite comfortable."

  I swallowed, shaking my head at my own thoughts. It was impossible. They couldn't have crafted a coffin just for me. I took a step forward at his urging, then stopped short. It was obvious now that was exactly what they had done.

  Jerking away from him, I glanced at the door. I felt a strong impulse to run, but I resisted it. Even if I made it to the door before they did, which wasn't likely, I would find nothing outside but a long hallway to run down, and I wouldn't make it far.

  Experience told me they were much more interested in tormenting me than killing me.

  It also told me pain was negotiable. To a point.

  Pissing them off would definitely get me hurt. My best bet would be playing along as long as I could.

  "What if I do?" I asked slowly.

  Bruno frowned. Chrissie clapped her hands in delight. "Oh, I was hoping you'd play." She glanced at Bruno and smirked. "If you get in and lie down, then I'll get Bruno to put the whips away. He was looking forward to getting a turn using them on you."

  She lifted her hand when Bruno opened his mouth to argue. "If you'll be a good sport, I'll have him save it for another time."

  I inhaled, nodded, and moved on my own to the coffin, climbing in without another word. I might not fully grasp what the rules of the game were, but I hadn't missed the exchange between them. Bruno didn't want her making that offer, so it was relatively safe to assume if a deal were made, they would stick to it. That didn't mean I wouldn't be hurt. Bruno could torture me in plenty of other ways.

  But, it was a small victory to know that, for the moment, whipping would be Joe's and my "thing."

  With measured breaths, I lay back, centering my head on the pillow and crossing my arms over my stomach. Bruno had been right. It was comfortable. The smooth bed of velvet was padded yet firm, and I had enough room between my shoulders and the sides that I didn't feel confined.

  But resting in a coffin stirred an uneasy feeling deep in my gut. I waited for their next request.

  "This is going to be fun." Bruno approached the side of the coffin.

  I held my breath and closed my eyes, fighting to maintain my calm. Bruno's prodding between my thighs shattered my resolve.

  "No," I whispered, struggling to sit up as he shoved his fingers into me. I was not the least bit aroused. His rough insertion of merely two fingers hurt me.

  Chrissie pushed me back down. "You can either accept that or have him get creative, Lydia. I'd be careful."

  Bruno was trying to force two more fingers inside me. I kicked him, crossed my legs, and sat up, pushing myself toward the head of the coffin.

  Bruno growled and grabbed my feet. A hard yank and I fell back. I struggled to free my feet. Bruno reached over and slammed the coffin lid closed.

  For a moment, I didn't move, hardly breathed. It was quiet and dark, but I wasn't being touched. This I could bear.

  Or so I thought.

  The coffin moved, and I sensed it being lifted. I held my hands against the sides to keep from being jarred against them. With my vision useless in the darkness, my other senses intensified. I could hear Bruno's voice through the thick wood.

  "Perhaps spending a day buried outside will make her more inclined to participate in the game," he said.

  "She'll run out of air and die, Bruno. Make it an hour; it'll be enough." Chrissie replied.

  As I pondered Chrissie's words, all the air seemed to drain from the confined space. The darkness, which had not alarmed me before, became oppressive and smothering. Panic overtook me, and I pushed my hands against the lid. I kicked up and drove my elbows into the sides. "Stop! Don't! Please stop!"

  I felt the coffin lower. The sudden influx of light blinded me as the lid opened.

  We hadn't left the room.

  Bruno leaned over the coffin. "Are you ready to cooperate?"

  I nodded quickly, breathing deeply, trying to fill my lungs with as much air as I could, afraid they'd take it from me again.

  Bruno knelt beside the coffin. I moved to sit up. He shoved me back down.

  "Don't move. If you do, there will be no more negotiations until you've been in the ground for an hour as Chrissie suggested."

  For a time, I didn't even breathe. I was afraid, very afraid, more so than I'd ever been. I imagined them lowering me into the ground. I pictured them shoveling the dirt; I could almost hear it hitting the top of the coffin. The mental image was enough to keep me still, even when Bruno stuffed his fingers back into me.

  Stretching me, Bruno worked two fingers in up to the knuckle, then began forcing in the others. I closed my eyes, biting my lips to keep any sound from escaping.

  Bruno kissed my lips even as he added his thumb.

  "She will feel nothing if you continue," Chrissie said from the other side of the coffin.

  Bruno grunted as he strained to push his hand in further. "I want to see how much she can take."

  Pushing and straining, Bruno grew frustrated when my tightness and dryness prevented him from going deeper. His knuckles punched against one strained lip as he tried to force his hand further in. I fought to keep my legs open, more afraid of what he'd do if I hampered his progress than of the damage he might do to me.

  "Try this." Chrissie handed something to Bruno.

  I didn't look. I was afraid of what this thing
might be. Whatever it was made Bruno groan. "It won't hurt."

  "It won't get in otherwise," Chrissie said shrewdly.

  Bruno removed his hand, and something cold replaced it. Something squirted inside me, and then his hand returned. Now that his hand was slicked up nicely, he was able to plunge it in a little deeper, but his knuckles wouldn't pass through my opening.

  "Turn so your knuckles are at her ass. I'll try to get her to relax." Chrissie bent down to me, taking one of my bare breasts in her hand. I felt Bruno turn his hand and press in. I clenched against him, then groaned as Chrissie took my nipple in her mouth.

  With all my focus on Chrissie's sucking, I couldn't help but relax. Bruno's knuckles strained against my widely stretched opening and then slipped past. I gasped, feeling his whole fist deep within. With a cry of triumph, he began pumping his fist, his wrist gliding against the lips of my pussy.

  Encountering no resistance now, Bruno pumped harder, his fist slamming inside me. Torn between pleasure and pain, I tried to clench down. Chrissie bit into my breast.

  I cried out, writhing, bucking, struggling to get free, yearning to find release.

  Release finally came when a soft touch stimulated my clit. I came hard, but Bruno didn't stop. With my juices soaking his hand and dripping down his wrist, he began to pummel me with even more force.

  Chrissie grabbed his wrist, holding him still. "We won't be able to have any more fun with her if you beat her to the point she passes out."

  Bruno nodded and carefully pulled his hand out. I could hardly feel him withdraw. All I felt was pain, deep inside, then a sharp burning in my veins. Bruno held me down as I struggled against the pain. "Damn it, Chrissie, she didn't have enough alcohol in her system for you to bite her!"

  Chrissie hissed out a curse and stepped out of sight. She brought a bottle to my mouth, a good portion of it sloshing over my face before I could gulp it down. They both waited, not speaking, not so much as breathing, as the alcohol did its work.