by Smyth, R. A
“Don’t feel good,” I say as blackness begins to close in around me. At least, it’s what I try to say. I’m not sure if it comes out that way. I’m not even sure that the words leave my mouth at all, maybe they’re only in my head.
I don’t get the chance to work it out any further as I fall into unconsciousness.
________
Ugh, why does my mouth feel so dry? My limbs feel like dead weight. It takes forever to crack open an eyelid and I can’t make my arms or legs move at all. What the hell happened? The last thing I remember, I was walking into Biology with Ty. How did I end up in my bed?
Finally succeeding in opening both my eyes, I stare up at a ceiling. A ceiling that I don’t recognize. Where am I? I try to turn my head, but it only moves slightly before I give up, not having the energy to force it any more.
“You’re awake,” a voice says, as Kurt comes into my line of sight, leaning over me. What. The. Fuck? This is bad. This is so fucking far beyond bad.
My heartbeat kicks into high gear as it finally registers with me just how fucking terrible this situation is. I try to move my limbs, push him away. Why won’t they move? What has he done to me? They do nothing more than twitch and shift slightly on the bed, lying completely useless beside me.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” the psycho soothes, stroking his hand softly down my hair. “Everything’s going to be okay now.”
I really don’t think it is.
A huge maniacal grin spreads across his face as he continues to gently stroke my hair and wipe away stray tears that are running down the side of my face. “We can finally be together.”
I try to shake my head, and finally, fucking finally, I get a response from my body that I want. It’s small, but I manage a small back-and-forth motion. “No.” I croak out, my voice dry and thick with emotion.
His demeanor changes in a second, his face hardening as cruelty flashes in his eyes. His hand whips out, hitting me hard across the face, the sting registering before I understand what has even happened.
The force is enough to send my head flying to the side and it takes all of my energy to turn back to face the monster looming over me, my own eyes filled with hatred and anger.
“There will be none of that,” he demands, his hand wrapping around my throat. “I know you’re confused right now. You need a few days to adjust, but you’ll soon see they don’t love you like I do. They don’t care about you. They never would have left you alone if they gave a shit about you,” he snarls, getting lost in his own thoughts as his anger gets the better of him, his hand tightening around my throat until it’s a struggle to breathe. I manage to raise my hands, grabbing onto his arm, but I’ve no strength to pull him off me, only managing to claw at him until his eyes focus back on me. Realizing what he’s doing, he loosens his hold, but keeps his hand around my neck as I gasp for air.
“You and I belong together. I felt it the moment you arrived in school. I know you felt it too,” he says, his voice turning soft, almost loving. His constant swinging of emotions is giving me whiplash. “I’ve enjoyed our games, but I need more now.” His eyes leave my face, his hand finally letting go of my neck as he trails it down my body. It’s only then that I notice I’m no longer wearing my school uniform. He must have stripped it off me while I was unconscious, leaving me in my underwear, on display for his viewing pleasure.
Fear ricochets through me at the thought of what he’s going to do to me. I wouldn’t be able to fight him off in this state. My chest heaves and I’m seconds away from a panic attack as his hands roam over my body, pushing my thighs apart so he can situate himself between them, his hard cock pressing against my panty covered pussy.
Bile rises up my throat, my body trembling, every part of me resisting what it knows is coming.
His hands trail up my stomach again until he’s groping my boobs, squeezing them tightly. I whimper in pain, but that only seems to excite him more as he thrusts against me with more force.
He finally lifts his gaze from my body to look at my face. His eyes hooded with desire until he sees the hatred burning in mine. He slaps me hard across the face again, stinging my other cheek. “Don’t look at me like that!” He barks, his hands roughly grabbing my jaw, yanking my head back so I can look at his seething face. “I know you want this. Those fuckers have gotten in your head, poisoned your mind, but you’re mine. Don’t you ever forget it.”
He lifts his hand from my face and a second later I hear him unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants, lifting out his cock and rubbing it against me. He moves to hover above me, his eyes once again roaming over my body as his hand fists his dick. My eyes drift shut, wanting to block out reality and pretend I’m anywhere but here. I don’t know how long I’ve been gone for, but the guys will know I’m missing. Surely they will put the pieces together and come find me. I just hope they get here before it’s too late.
I block out his panting breaths and low groans as he jerks himself off, finding his release and spurting his cum all over my stomach. His hands move to my midsection, rubbing his ejaculate into my skin. I can feel it embedding itself beneath the surface, permanently marking me. His way of claiming me, for now.
“You’ve disappointed me.” His voice is eerily calm as he continues to run his hands over my stomach. “I hope I haven’t wasted my time on you.” With one last longing sweep of my exposed body, he lifts my arm, maneuvering it to the bedpost behind my head. I hear the clinking of metal before something cold tightens around my wrist. When he lets go, I try to pull my wrist away, but the movement causes the cold metal to press harder into my skin as understanding dawns on me. He’s cuffed me to the bed.
Without another word, he turns and walks out the door, leaving me lying there, the feel of him all over me. With difficulty, I roll onto my side, curling myself into a ball as the tears flow steadily from my eyes, running down my face and soaking my hair and the sheet beneath me.
I don’t know how long I lie there as the feeling slowly returns to my arms and legs. Eventually I drag the bed cover over myself, the barrier offering some false sense of protection as I stare blankly at the far wall of the bedroom, absently watching the sun move across the sky, the light slowly fading as night takes over.
It’s dark out when I hear the click of the lock and the door opens. My body immediately tenses and I watch warily as he enters the room, carrying a tray in one hand. I hurriedly sit up, not wanting to come across as any more vulnerable than I already do, glaring at him as he crosses the room towards me, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
“I thought you might be hungry,” he says, holding out the tray so I can see a plate of sandwiches and a glass of water on it. My stomach rumbles, reminding me I haven’t eaten since lunch, but I’m not about to eat anything handed to me by him. He somehow drugged me earlier today. I’m not about to let him try the same trick twice.
I snap my hand out and knock the tray, sending the contents flying, glaring defiantly at him. The anger and hatred that was drowned out by fear earlier is back, raging through my body. I will not give in and become his obedient lap dog. I will fight him tooth and nail.
He once again grabs me tightly by the throat. This time I’ve enough energy to fight against him. Hitting his arm and chest, digging my nails into his skin until he bleeds, all the while screaming my lungs out, hoping someone will hear me and come running.
I’m still weak though, and my efforts do nothing to push him back. If anything, they only seem to excite him. A slow grin crawls across his face and before I know what’s happening, he’s using his firm grip on my neck to pull me into him, his lips hitting mine in a harsh kiss. I continue to fight him, biting at him and shoving my hands against his chest, but he only moans louder into my mouth.
“I love it when you fight back,” he growls, ignoring my death glare. I’m going to fucking kill him. There’s no fucking way I’m going to let him get away with any of this. I’ve no idea how I’m going to do it, but I will. Even if it kills me in the pro
cess.
Letting go of me, he looks at the mess I’ve made. Sandwiches lie in pieces over the floor, the glass of water seeping into the carpet. He sighs heavily, shaking his head in disappointment as he picks up the food, plate, glass and tray. Once again, he doesn’t say anything as he leaves, taking everything with him, leaving me to my dark thoughts and fading hope that the guys will come for me.
Over the next three days, I’m left mostly alone. Kurt only comes to see me three times. Once a day. He silently comes in, unhooks my wrist and drags my weak body to the bathroom, allowing me a minute to pee before dragging me back to the bed and chaining me to it again. He never talks to me, he doesn’t bring me food or water or allow me to shower or clean my teeth or brush my hair.
I’m not sure which is worse, this silent treatment or having his unwanted attention. If he continues like this for much longer, I’m likely to die from dehydration. There is nothing for me to do all day every day but stare out the window from my position on the bed, trailing the sun across the sky. It’s the only way I can mark the passage of time and know how long I’ve been here for.
In the last few days, I’ve taken stock of the room, trying to work out where I might be, but it’s impossible. The room is bland. White walls, white bed covers, white carpet. There’s no furniture other than this bed, two bedside tables and a chair. There are no pictures or posters, nothing to indicate if this is Kurt’s room or if I’m at his house or being held somewhere else.
I barely sleep, too afraid of what might happen if I do, but with each passing day the hope that I held on to that my guys would find me grows weaker, along with the strength in my body.
On the third night, I startle awake, having finally succumbed to exhaustion. I stay still and keep my eyes closed, my body on alert as I listen out for whatever woke me. Just when I convince myself I’m imagining things, I hear it again. A rustling noise. Focusing on it, I can hear someone’s steady breathing coming from somewhere behind me. The chair creaks quietly as someone readjusts themselves. There’s only one person who would be in here in the middle of the night.
Forcing my body to stay relaxed, even as my heart thumps against my chest, I actively listen out for him, but I don’t hear him move any closer. I lie there, wide awake as he sits in the chair, silently watching me. I don’t know how long he stays there for before I finally hear him get to his feet and approach the bed.
He doesn’t say anything or touch me, as I lie there, pretending to be asleep, and after what feels like forever, he finally turns away and leaves the bedroom, the door closing and the lock engaging behind him. It’s only then that I allow myself to take a steadying breath. What the hell was that? Sleep escapes me for the rest of the night. Instead, I lie awake, working out how I’m going to get myself out of here. I need to play along with his sick game, bide my time. I don’t know where my guys are or why they aren’t here yet, but I need to fight, to survive until I can get to them.
The next day when Kurt walks into my room, I’m ready. My game face is on and I’ve come to terms with the fact I’m going to have to do whatever it takes to get out of here.
He’s carrying another tray of food, which he sets down on the bed beside me, eyeing me cautiously.
“Is that for me?” I croak, my mouth dry from going so long without a drink.
“It is.”
Forcing a soft smile to my face, I reach for the glass of water. I don’t even care if it's drugged at this point, I’m so thirsty and weak. I need sustenance if I’m going to fight back. Swallowing down half of the glass in one gulp, I slow down, sipping on the rest of it.
I move on to the plate of sandwiches next, swallowing every bite as he watches me intently.
“Thanks, I needed that.” I say, hoping to endear him towards me a little.
He continues to watch me with a wary look, not sure whether to believe this new accommodating version of me. Eventually he uncuffs me, grabbing my arm and hauling me to the adjoined bathroom.
“Do you think I could shower?” I ask, giving him another soft smile while my insides roil. “I smell horrible.”
Casting his eyes over my greasy hair and his cum still crusted on my abdomen, he silently nods his head. He stands guard as I use the toilet, washing my hands before turning on the shower. I know he won’t give me any privacy to shower so, after taking a moment to steel my resolve, I unhook my bra and pull off my panties, keeping my back to him until I’m under the luxurious hot spray. I let the heat soak into me; the water washing away the filth and weariness from the last few days. Not wanting to push my luck, I quickly lather up the soap and scrub myself clean, ignoring his heated gaze as he watches my every move. Once I feel I’ve dragged the shower out for as long as I can, I turn the water off and climb out.
“Come here,” he demands as I reach for a towel, desperately wanting to put a barrier between my body and his leering eyes. I hesitate before slowly stepping towards him. His pants are hanging open, and as I approach him he reaches into his boxers and pulls out his erect cock, fisting it once, twice, before grabbing my hand and wrapping it around him. His hand encases mine, urging me to move up and down his length.
“Fuck. I knew it would feel so good having your hand wrapped around my dick.”
I swallow down the bile in the back of my throat, telling myself once again that I’m doing whatever it takes to survive, as he reaches out and roughly grabs my bare breast, squeezing it painfully, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.
His other hand unwraps itself from his dick, moving between my legs. My whole body locks up and I struggle not to flinch away from his touch. He shoves two fingers inside my bone-dry core, the sudden intrusion causing me to cry out in pain. He groans loudly, thrusting into my hand as I snap my eyes shut, trying to breathe through the pain and praying this will be over soon.
He continues to hold my tit in a bruising grip, moving his fingers in and out of me until he finally comes. The second he's finished, I move to step away from him, already in desperate need of another shower.
Before I can move out of his reach, his hand snaps out in his go to move, curling around my throat. He uses the momentum to push me backwards, following me until my back hits the bathroom wall.
“You haven’t come yet.”
“I..I..” I stutter, shaking my head the best I can.
He just growls before shoving his fingers back inside me.
Knowing he won’t stop until I come, I try to relax, leaning my head back against the wall and closing my eyes, pretending his hand around my throat is Aiden’s. Imagining Aiden’s fingers inside me, whispering dirty words in my ear.
It takes a while, but eventually my body starts to respond, wetness coating my channel as my skin flushes, sparks shooting out from my core.
It’s weak and bittersweet, but eventually, I find my release, moaning as self-hatred and shame war within me.
“I knew you’d look fucking amazing when you came for me.”
He lets go of my neck, stalking out of the bathroom as my legs give out beneath me and I collapse onto the cold tiles, the throbbing between my thighs serving as a constant reminder of what I just did.
Bile rises up my throat once again and this time there is no swallowing it back down. I scramble across the floor, emptying the meagre contents of my stomach into the toilet bowl before sagging to the floor, feeling the cold tile pressing against the side of my body.
When I finally find it within me to get off the floor, I climb back into the shower, turning the dial until the water is scalding, scrubbing myself raw, desperate to get the feel of him off me. When I eventually get out, still not feeling clean, I wrap a towel around me and leave the bathroom, finding my bedroom empty, a new set of lingerie on the bed.
Taking advantage of my new freedom, I head straight for the door, turning the handle, but as I expected, it’s locked. Turning away from the door, I search the room, checking in the bedside tables and under the bed, hoping there might be something I could use as a we
apon. Again, no such luck. Giving up on that idea, I move to the window, hoping to get some idea of where I am, but it’s impossible. There is a pool and a large garden surrounding the house, and the forest runs wild beyond the perimeter of the property, but it looks like every other mansion in Crescentwood. I can’t see any other buildings or mansions to help give me any sense of where I might be.
Defeated, I swipe the underwear from the bed and head back to the bathroom, thankful when I discover a lock on the door. Flicking it and checking it actually works, I set the underwear on the counter and go to lift the bra I was wearing when I arrived.
Fiddling around with the wiring on the underside, it takes me a moment before I’m able to prize the needle out from between the fabric. After all the bullshit we have faced in the last few months, I’ve learnt to always keep a weapon on me. Of course, I’d hoped that weapon would be my gun. I carry it with me everywhere, but it’s in my backpack, and I wanted to have something I could keep on me at all times. This was the best I could think of.
A needle isn’t much to work with. It’s sharp, sure, but it’s only about two inches long and isn’t going to do a hell of a lot of damage. That’s why I need to be smart about when I use it. I’ve the element of surprise on my side, but I’ll only get one shot. If I fail, it’s game over.
I move back to the clean bra I left on the bathroom counter, using the tip of the needle to tear the fabric and create a new hole. This one is bigger, more obvious, but I’ll be able to get the needle out easier, and I know when the time comes to use it, I won’t have the luxury to faff around.
My hands shake with adrenaline and nerves as I create the hole and stash the needle before putting the bra on, running my hand along the underside of the wire, ensuring it can’t be felt. Satisfied, I pull on the clean pair of panties and head back into the bedroom, dragging the chair over to the window and pulling the sheet off the bed, wrapping it around me and getting comfortable in the seat, staring out at the forest and sky, pretending I’m anywhere but here.
