by Hamel, B. B.
Okay, so, no windows. I check everything, all the seams, maybe for a vent I can crawl up, or maybe an old fireplace, I don’t know, something. But of course, there’s nothing.
Finally, I come up to the door.
It’s heavy and thick. I think it’s made of wood, and when I push my body against it, nothing happens. The door doesn’t budge.
I frown and test it some more. I push harder, but nothing. I wait between tests to catch my breath and to make sure he’s not around to hear before I start to slam myself against the door, over and over again.
I kick it, bash it, push it, but nothing. It doesn’t budge a single inch.
I remember seeing the lock from the outside. It looked big and steel, the sort of lock that I have no hope of breaking. I’m not a big person at all, and I don’t weigh all that much. I don’t think I could break down a normal door, let alone one that’s been reinforced.
I slink back down into the basement after having bashed myself against the door over and over for at least a half hour. It didn’t move a single millimeter that whole time.
“Shit,” I whisper out loud to myself. “Shit, shit, shit.”
I can’t break out. There are no windows, no way up except for that door. Which means I’m going to have to wait for him to open it if I have any hope of getting away.
Maybe I can attack him, knock him out, sneak upstairs. Maybe I can lure him down then make a break for it while he’s looking for me. Actually, that’s not a bad idea, but…
Where would I go?
I have a vague memory of where we are relative to the town. I think I could point myself in the right direction if I could get out the front door.
But we’re deep in the woods. If I did get past him and up the stairs, I’d have to go outside, into that forest. I don’t have shoes or socks, so I’d be running barefoot.
He’d catch me. There’s no doubt in my mind. Even if I ran as fast as I could, my feet would break and bleed and he’d hunt me down with ease.
I curl up on the couch, not bothering with the TV. I keep trying to picture some way out, but with nothing on my feet, and no way to break free, I have no clue how it’ll even be possible.
Maybe I really am stuck here.
Maybe that’s not such a bad thing, and that thought scares the hell out of me.
* * *
I spend the day huddled on the couch, staring at the TV, and sleeping.
I don’t dream much. I never have, even back home. I think it’s because dreams never held much good for me. I know people always talk about dreams as these beautiful things where you can be anything, but my dreams never had any of that. Maybe because I could never see myself doing anything more than what my parents told me to do.
I don’t know what time it is when I hear footsteps on the floor upstairs. I sit up straight and listen as the steps move around the house. They’re heavy at first and lighter after a minute or two, I think because Rhett took his boots off after work.
So it must be late in the day then. I sigh and stretch. I slept away most of my time, when I should’ve been up and planning how the hell I’m going to get out of here.
The steps stop for a while and I sit there in silence, straining to hear anything. I mute the television and close my eyes, picturing the upstairs the best I can, although I only saw the main living room and the basement door. There were other rooms toward the back of the house, but he didn’t take me to any of those.
Suddenly, the door unlocks with a thud. I nearly jump out of my skin as the door opens and shuts, and he slowly comes down the carpeted stairs.
He smiles when he sees me. He’s wearing a faded crewneck sweatshirt for some school I don’t recognize and a pair of old jeans. He’s holding something in his hands, and it takes me a second to realize that it’s a belt.
“Emma,” he says, stopping at the bottom of the stairs.
“What time is it?” I ask him.
“Six in the evening. Have you eaten yet?”
I shake my head. There’s not much down here right now, although he promised he’d bring me more food.
“Well, I’ll make you something in a little while,” he says, walking over to the kitchen table. He puts the belt down flat on the table, folded once over itself. He turns to me and smiles again. “What did you do with yourself all day?”
I shrug a little, heart beating fast. “Nothing really. Slept, watched TV. Not all that much to do down here.”
“True,” he says. “Sorry about that. I’ll think of something to bring down for you, something entertaining.”
“Thanks,” I say, looking away from him.
I’m so nervous and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t approached me yet. He hasn’t taken a single step in my direction at all, which is strange. He’s looking at me with a smile on his lips, but it doesn’t feel like a warm smile, not at all.
I’ve seen that smile before on other people, and it’s never a good thing.
“What else did you do?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I say, pulse quickening even more.
“Are you sure?” he asks softly. “You weren’t… up the steps?”
I nearly stumble backwards. I feel dizzy as fear rushes over me. “What? I, I mean, no, of course not.”
He sighs, almost like he’s disappointed. “You really shouldn’t lie to me, Emma.”
“No, I’m not lying.”
“Emma.” He walks closer to me now and his smile slips away. “What else did you do today?”
I stare into his eyes now and I know he knows. I don’t know how, but he knows I was trying to break down the door. He saw me, or heard me, or maybe there’s a camera in here. I’m suddenly afraid. He could be watching me at all times and I’d have no clue. I didn’t see any cameras, but the guy’s in law enforcement. I bet they have tiny little cameras I’d never, ever notice.
I don’t know what to do. I think about lying again, but the fight suddenly runs out of me. He knows too much, he has too much control. There’s no use in fighting him, he’s only going to win in the end.
“I tried to open the door,” I say softly.
His smile comes back, although a little less happy this time. “You did,” he says, more a statement than a question.
“I just wanted—”
“You wanted to get out,” he says.
I hesitate then nod.
“I understand,” he says. “Of course you wanted to get out. You feel trapped down here, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“I’m sorry, little Emma. I know it’s hard, but it’s for your own good. Believe me, you’d rather be trapped in here than trapped in a prison cell. They won’t be nearly as nice to you as I am in prison.”
I meet his gaze and feel a surge of defiance suddenly. I don’t know where it comes from, but it pushes me to move closer to him. Not close enough to touch, but close enough that I feel like I’m being brave.
“How do you know they’ll send me to prison?” I ask him. “I didn’t do anything and you know it. If the guys running the investigation are good cops, won’t they let me go? And aren’t you the police chief? You can help me.”
He sighs, still smiling, and shakes his head. “You don’t understand small towns at all, do you, little Emma?”
I glare at him. “I understand how they can be poison.”
He looks surprised and pleased at that. “You’re right, they are poison. It seeps into everything around here and folks don’t even know it.”
“You’re the police chief,” I press. “Why can’t you help me?”
“Because I don’t hold all the cards. I have to answer to the people of this town, and if they think I’m doing a bad job, they’ll get rid of me. See, little Emma, if they don’t find anyone else to pin this murder on, they’ll pin it on you.”
I glare at him. “So find the real killer.”
“I’m trying. When we do, I can let you go.” He smiles at me, for real this time. “See? That’s
how this works.”
I take a deep breath. “You’ll really let me go once he’s caught?”
“Cross my heart. Once he’s caught, you can go free. But if I let you go before…” He shrugs a little. “I can’t promise anything good will happen.”
I feel completely deflated again. All that defiance and anger slowly seeps away, and I’m just an angry, scared girl all alone in the world.
“Come here, little Emma,” he says, gesturing for me. “Come here. I know this is hard.”
I walk toward him, slowly at first, but finally I let myself get pulled against his big, muscular chest.
I press close and he hugs me tight. It feels good and I hate myself for thinking it. He feels so good, pressed up against me like this.
“I’m sorry, little Emma,” he whispers.
“Sorry for what?”
He grabs my hair tight. I gasp a little bit as he pulls me over to the kitchen table, turning me around, pushing me up against it.
He bends me over, shoving me down. I groan and look back at him, eyes wide, not sure what’s going on. He smirks at me and reaches around my hips, unbuttoning the fly of my jeans and tugging them over my hips.
I bite my lip as he slides them down onto the floor. He kicks them aside then pulls my panties down with them. When he’s done, I’m naked on the bottom, my ass and pussy out in the open for him, his hands firm on my naked hips.
He spreads my legs wide. “You know, I’m a nice man,” he says softly. “I’m a very, very nice man.” His fingers slide up between my legs and I have to stifle a gasp as he finds my pussy. “But sometimes, I have to get stern. I don’t like it, but I need to make sure you’re going to follow the rules.”
“What rules?” I ask.
He grunts a little laugh and I feel his fingers teasing my pussy. I’m trying not to moan but it feels so good, and I’m dripping wet already. I almost hate myself for how easily he gets me wet, like my body betrays me, proves that I’m just a dirty girl, a filthy girl.
I’ve got demons, and he knows how to work them.
“Two rules, really. The first rule is, you obey me completely. You do what I say, when I say it. You don’t talk back, you don’t ask questions. You just obey.” He grabs my hair tight and tilts my chin back. “Do you understand that?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Good.” He releases my hair, teasing my pussy again. I groan and clench my hands into fists. “The other rule is even simpler. You don’t ever go up those stairs.”
I look over my shoulder, eyes a little wide. So he really does know.
“What?” I whisper.
“You don’t ever, ever try to escape like you did today.” His grin is so wicked, I almost want to push him away, but I don’t move. “I saw it, little Emma. You think I’m not keeping an eye on you?” He leans closer, lips against my ear. “I have a camera watching the door up there. Down here, you have some privacy, but if I ever see you go up to that door, well…” He pulls back, fingers sliding up inside of my pussy as he takes the belt from the table with his other hand.
I watch him as he brings the belt down on my ass. I gasp, pussy clenching around his fingers. He pulls them out slowly and brings the belt down again.
He doesn’t hit me hard, not those first two strokes, at least. It stings only a little bit. Mostly it surprises me.
“If you do it again, I’ll hit you with something that’ll hurt even more. I won’t be nice about it, little Emma. Since you didn’t know, this is only your warning.”
He teases my pussy again, fingers caressing my clit, sliding back to push inside of me. He fucks me with those fingers, rolling in and out and oh, god, it feels so good.
He brings the belt down again, this time a little bit harder. I gasp as pain stings my skin but he doesn’t stop fucking my pussy with his fingers.
I groan and roll my hips, pain and pleasure mingling, driving me wild. I’ve never felt this before. It’s always been one or the other, pleasure or pain, but never both. The way he fucks my pussy with his fingers and spanks my ass with his belt, though…
It’s driving me wild. It’s making the pleasure even sweeter, the pain somehow making the pleasure even more intense. I almost can’t handle it when he brings the belt down one more time.
“Look at you,” he whispers. “You like your punishment, don’t you?”
I have to stifle another moan and I shake my head.
He laughs softly, fingers plunged deep into my cunt.
“You love it,” he whispers, leaning over me. “You like getting spanked while I fuck your pussy. And this is just a start. Imagine my big cock taking you rough, fucking your ass, fucking your pussy, while I spank you nice and hard and make you beg for me to keep fucking you.”
I groan, losing myself. I know I’m losing myself, and I know I should try and stop it.
But I can’t. It feels so good, his fingers deep inside.
He spanks me again with the belt.
“This is just a taste, my Emma,” he says in my ear. “Just a little taste of what I can give you. But if you keep going up those steps…”
His fingers pull away. I look back as he brings the belt down on my ass.
One stroke. One hard stroke.
I gasp in pain. It lances up my spine and I groan. This time, there’s no pleasure to smooth it out.
He sighs and kneels down, fingers caressing the angry red skin on my ass.
“Poor girl,” he says gently. “I know. I was too rough. Here, let me make it up to you.”
He pushes me down again and spreads my ass wide. I feel his tongue lick me, every inch of me, and my eyes go wide.
I can’t believe what he’s doing. He’s licking me from behind, licking my ass, my pussy, every inch of me. He doesn’t hold back, not even a little bit. At first, I’m shocked, but then the pleasure starts to overwhelm the lingering surprise and pain and oh, god, I love it.
I clench my fists again and lie with my right cheek on the cold table. I can’t see him, but I can feel his hands on my ass, his tongue licking me top to bottom, teasing and working and pushing me further and further.
His fingers slide inside of me, and he strokes me like that, fucking me from behind. I feel his tongue on my ass as he slides his fingers in and out, expertly fucking me from behind, tongue licking my ass.
It’s so filthy, so dirty, and I love it so much. This is what I knew I could do. I knew I could give in to him, give him every inch of my body. I’d let him do absolutely anything to me, so long as it feels good.
God, I can’t help myself.
He pulls back suddenly and turns me around, lifting me up onto the table. He keeps my legs spread, feet flat on the table now, leaning back on my elbows. I watch him slide his fingers inside me and start to suck and lick my clit.
I throw my head back and moan. I moan as loud as I want because nothing else matters but the pleasure I feel right here, right in the moment. I don’t care if it’s right or wrong, I don’t care if I’m in his prison.
I don’t care because it feels so freaking good.
He finger fucks my pussy fast and licks my clit, sucking and teasing. I roll my hips and I know I can’t take it much longer. I’ve been riding the edge since we started and now he’s pushing me closer and closer to my limits.
He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down. I’m sweating and moaning and he keeps fucking my pussy with his fingers and licking my clit, sucking it, sending pleasure rocking through my body.
“Let me taste your cum,” he whispers to me, fingers buried in my cunt. “Let me taste your little pussy while you come for me, my Emma, my filthy little Emma.”
“Fuck,” I gasp as his tongue slides all around me, licking me faster and faster, his hands gripping my hips rough.
I come for him, just like he wanted. I let it all go, let myself completely lose it to the pleasure. I come hard and he doesn’t hesitate, he laps me up, licking me all over as the orgasm rips through my body, intense and incredible. I swea
r I nearly black out as my body twitches and my muscles tense, waves and waves of pleasure washing over me.
Finally it slows and finishes. I collapse back onto the table, panting, as he straightens and licks his fingers clean.
“Good girl,” he says. He leans over me and kisses me softly.
I watch him grab the belt, smiling to himself.
“I’ll be back with your dinner soon,” he says, heading to the stairs.
I sit there on the table, breathing deep, staring at him.
How does this man do this to me? He spanks me with a belt, controls me, dominates me. He admitted to watching me through a camera, although he says he lets me have privacy down here, away from the door.
And yet I don’t care about any of it. I don’t care what he says or what he does. Right now, still reeling from my orgasm, all I care about is getting more.
I’m greedy for him. I’m greedy for that feeling. I need more. I know there’s so much more.
I want it all, and I don’t care what I have to do to get it.
8
Rhett
I almost feel guilty about punishing Emma.
It’s a weird feeling, guilt. I’ve never really experienced it before. I’ve always been the kind of man to do what I want and never apologize for it, but with Emma, it’s almost like I have this strange weight holding me back. It’s keeping me from going as far as I want to go, and she has no clue what I’m really hungry for.
That’s probably a good thing.
I keep hearing her moans as I drive to work the next morning. I keep hearing her groans, the way she practically begs for more without even realizing it. I love those moans.
But there’s an anger in her. She’s defiant in a way I didn’t expect. I figured she’d try and get away sooner or later, but the second day? I didn’t see that coming, not at all.
I’m happy I have that camera watching the door. I do have cameras all throughout that basement apartment, but they’re not turned on, and I don’t plan on turning them on unless I have to. I told her she could have some privacy down in her space, and I’ll honor my word.