Sweet Giselle

by Karen P. Williams

  “I warned you about that shit!”

  I turned around fearfully. Bryce was now standing in the bedroom, with a look of fury on his face. His legs were shoulder-width apart, and his fists clenched. He was ready to do battle ... with me. My heart was beating so fast. I had pissed him off. What was he going to do to me now?

  As he came toward me, I tried to run to a corner. He stormed up to me, blocking me in.

  “I tried to be nice to you, bitch. But you always manage to fuck it up.” His eyes were red. He dragged me by my hair back to the bed. He tossed me on it. He straddled me as I struggled against him and tried to fight him. I managed to slap his face with all my might. I knew it had to sting, because I slapped the shit out of him. I then pressed my fingers into his eye sockets, digging my fingernails in. He growled and grabbed both my arms, twisting them, and flipped me over, so I was now on my stomach, with my arms pressed up against my back. I screamed in pain, but I knew my screams were muffled because my face was pressed into the bed. There was pain shooting up and down my arms from his tight grip. I thought he was going to break my arms. In addition to this, I could feel his erection poking me in my butt.

  After a few seconds of me crying out in pain, he asked, “You done?”

  “Yes!” I said to get him to release me.

  “Good.” He held my arms there for a few more seconds before he released the tight grip on them and flipped me over onto my back.

  Tears shot from my eyes from the pain I was still feeling in my arms. I wished I could kill that bastard. Giovanni had never put his hands on me.

  When I saw him get the sheets again, I begged, “No! Please don’t tie me up again.” I started fighting him again. But it was like a rabbit going up against a bear. He flexed my rigid body on the bed and tied me up. All the punches and kicks I gave him must have felt like those of a toddler attacking him. He secured my limbs to the bedposts.

  “I’m going to be nice and not put on the gag. But if you so much as sneeze, I will be in here to put it back on you.”

  I glared at him hatefully as his eyes lustfully traveled down my naked body. “I fucking hate you.”

  “I hate you, too, bitch.”

  “Then what the fuck are you looking at?” I looked pointedly at his erection poking through his jeans. It was so big that there was no way for me not to have noticed it. And felt it. “If you even think about raping—”

  Suddenly a gun was pressed into my face. “What?” he demanded.

  I grew silent. The sight of the gun and the feel of its cold steel scared me. My heart pounded fiercely in my chest.

  “If I so much as rape you, what? What the fuck you going to do about it?”

  I remained silent, and I was sure my eyes were as big as golf balls.

  That was when he took the gun, trailed it down my face, down my neck, to my chest, and started playing with my nipples with the tip of it. They hardened against my will. As he did this, he said, “But something tells me ...” The gun slid down my stomach before positioning itself at my pussy. “I won’t have to rape you at all.” The tip of the gun gently rubbed against my clit.

  And ... before I could stop myself, I moaned. What the fuck was wrong with me!

  He heard it. Next thing I knew, he moved like a predator on me. I could feel his upper body on mine, and he had his head against one of my breasts and was teasing one of my nipples with his tongue, while the gun continued to rub against my clit.

  I closed my eyes in shame as my body felt a way my mind knew I had no business feeling. I wanted to die inside. Why did it feel good? Why was he making my body feel this way? Why was it betraying me? I didn’t know this man, and the little I did know about him, I disliked. The way he spoke to me, calling me a bitch. Being rough with me. Yes, still, my body continued to betray me as it responded to his touch.

  I moaned again.

  That was when he pulled away. And as shameful as it sounded, I didn’t want him to.

  He simply locked his arrogant eyes on me and smiled, showing his white, perfectly straight teeth, and said, “Rape, huh?”

  “Fuck you!” I yelled.

  He simply slipped the gun back in his pants and walked out of the room, locking it behind him.

  Lockdown. Incarceration. That became my routine. And since I knew that if I started making noise, he would gag me again, I didn’t bother with any more screaming. But that didn’t stop me from trying to get the sheet ties off my wrists and ankles. But all the struggling did nothing for me. I couldn’t break the tight knots he had made with the sheets.

  He would always come, bring me food, feed me, and let me shower. He remained as hateful as ever, and so did I. I had nothing to do but collect my thoughts. And day in and day out, my circumstances really drove me crazy. When I was home, in my normal life, my mornings were usually filled with breakfast with my mother-in-law and my father-in-law or with Lexi or my brother. I would take shopping trips and blow ten or twenty stacks if I wanted to. Or my husband and I would steal away for lunch or for a random excursion to Vegas, to a random amusement park, or to a winery. Or we were attending fancy charity events with rich folks like us. My life prior to getting kidnapped was happy.

  Now it was utter misery. I had tried to find any way I could to get away, from trying to attack Bryce when he untied me to hiding in a spot in the room the moment he turned his back. None of it ever worked. It just made him continue to treat me like shit. I wondered what it would take to get him to let me go. I knew my husband would get to the bottom of this and come get me. And for Bryce’s sake, they better pray, because my husband would probably show them no mercy for kidnapping and hurting me.

  Finally, after about a week of captivity, Bryce came into the room with some folded-up clothes, linens, and fresh towels.

  I said nothing. But inhaled the fragrant smell coming from the bags of food he had brought into the room.

  He sat the stuff down and stood with his back against the dresser, staring at me. “You ready to come up out them ropes?”

  I nodded.

  “All right. You start that craziness again, you will be right back in them, and I’m sincere when I say that.”

  I nodded.

  As soon as he untied me, I rubbed my wrists and then my ankles, super relieved. He allowed me to shower, and I didn’t bother to plan an escape from him again. What for? He had the key to the door. The only way to get out would be to get the key. How would I be able to do that? I just had to trust in my husband. That he would come up with a way to get me out of here.

  When I tried to close the sliding door to the shower, he gripped it with his hands so it stayed open. Yes, he was in the shower with me again. As I showered, I noticed him snap several pictures of me.

  “Why are you doing that?” I snapped angrily.

  “To send to your husband. He wanted to know if you were still alive.”

  “Can I please talk to my husband?”

  “No,” He took one last shot. “Rinse off,” he ordered.

  I did so furiously. Once I was done, I turned the water off and stepped out of the shower.

  I dried off with the towel he gave me. Once I was dry, I stood there tapping my foot and waiting for him to hand me the dress. He gave me an arrogant look before tossing it to me. I pulled it on quickly.

  He gestured for me to leave the bathroom and go back into the room. I walked to the bed and sat down. My stomach started grumbling. Bryce placed a closed foam container in front of me. It was fried fish, hush puppies, and french fries.

  I ate in silence, and he sat there and watched me. I knew I must have looked like a wild animal. All ashy, with my hair uncombed. The bruises his friends had left on me were just about cleared up, but still. I hated the fact that he had me in this position, and because of what? Something he was falsely blaming on my husband? I would love to see the proof.

  “I’m not going to tie you up or put a gag on you, but if you try something else crazy, they go back on.”

  I nodded, rel
ieved. I had exhausted all ways to get out of the room, anyway. At this point it would be a waste of time to try again. I would just have to have hope that my husband would come for me. And at least I knew he was alive. I didn’t really know Bryce, so I had no idea how much manpower he had, but I knew my husband had a whole lot of it. I felt sorry for Bryce when my husband got to him.

  Bryce took me out of my thoughts. “You are married to a piece of shit. He fucks with young girls that are underage. Some refuse, and he forces them to do it anyway. We are talking about young girls. My sister was one of the girls he made the mistake of molesting. And I believe that he still has her.”

  After I got over the initial shock of what he said, I almost laughed. The fact that he was accusing my husband of not only rape but also of having an affair didn’t faze me one bit. I knew my husband. He would never do either of the two. And with little girls? Please.

  I swallowed the piece of fish in my mouth and said, “I don’t want to hear any of your lies. My husband does not have to force women or girls to do anything. Nor would he. He takes his vows seriously, and most of all, he is not a child molester!”

  “Either you are a really good fucking liar or you are a fucking dingbat. To not see what’s going on in your own household—”

  “You know what? You seem to have so much hate toward my husband, and you put him down so much. What do you do?”

  “I sell dope. That’s what the fuck I do.”

  “And you think you are better or more of a man than he is? You kill people. Let me tell you about my husband. He is a hardworking, God-fearing man. He built his whole empire by himself. He gives women who choose to work, work. He gives young men steady work. He gave my brother a job. He provides for his whole family. We have a charity organization that helps youth and the community. While you kill your own people. You are the reason why fathers and mothers are in jail or walking dead on their feet, unable to raise their kids because of their drug addiction, which you heavily feed! Because what? You don’t want to get a job like the average person? You are beneath us.”

  “Is that right, you stuck-up bitch?”

  I gritted my teeth at him calling me a bitch. “Why all this waiting, then? If you hate my husband so much, then let’s get this over with! Rape me! Kill me! Get it over with!”

  “Because I want him to suffer. I want that ho-ass nigga to spend sleepless nights worrying who is in his wife’s pussy.”

  “You are fucking disgusting. Trash! That’s what you are, a piece of trash.”

  He went on, as if he wasn’t insulted by what I had just said. “And when I’m done torturing that mufucka, I’m going to kill his ass.”

  I jumped at that comment and at the look in his eyes. The thought of someone harming my husband in any way instantly brought tears to my eyes. I loved my husband so much, and I couldn’t imagine a life without him. Especially for some nonsense that Giovanni had nothing to do with. Good, innocent men lost their lives all the time, so I knew that it could happen. But what would I do if it did? I’d want to die right alongside him. He was my world, and my life would never be the same without him. I sobbed on the bed and prayed that God would protect my husband.

  With that Bryce left the room, of course, locking the door behind him.

  Chapter 12

  “Bitch! Wake the fuck up!”

  My eyes shot open to find a woman leaning over me who I had never seen before in my life. Then, before I could blink, one of her fists came down and punched me directly in my forehead. I ignored the pain and rolled off the bed so that I was on my feet, facing her.

  “Bitch, you in one of my muthafucking man’s spots, asleep? Oh, hell no!”

  “No! You have it wrong. He kid—”

  “Ho, shut the fuck up!”

  “No, wait, please!”

  She swung at me again, connecting with my nose, busting it. Blood spurted out.

  That was it for me. I recovered from her blow quickly and threw a punch at her, landing just underneath her right eye. She rushed toward me and tried to get another blow in, but she couldn’t, because I moved my face over an inch and threw two more her way. Those hits knocked the wind out of her, and she flew back from the impact.

  Before she could get up again, I rushed forward, knocking her completely off her feet, and straddled her with my body. I was damned if someone else was going to attack me again. While I couldn’t handle men, I knew for sure I could handle her. She was the same height and weight as me, so I used my lower body to keep her down. That was when I started punching her repeatedly. She started screaming. But I didn’t stop. I gripped her neck with one of my hands and punched her in the face with my other hand. Her head flew with each hit.

  That was when Bryce rushed into the room, wrapped in a towel. When Bryce saw me on top of the crazy girl, who was claiming that he was her man, he quickly pulled me off her and held me, since he thought I was going to go for her again. I could feel Bryce’s naked chest against me. He was still wet from his shower.

  Angel walked in the room next.

  I snatched myself away from Bryce.

  The girl stood up and tried to rush toward me again with a bloodied face. “Bitch!”

  Bryce caught her in time, and as he held her, his towel fell down, exposing his nakedness in full view.

  Her eyes went to me as he used one of his hands to fix the towel. “The fuck you looking at?” she snarled.

  I looked away, embarrassed.

  “Get her!” Bryce told Angel.

  Angel grabbed her and said, “Brandy, what the fuck are you doing? Always snooping and shit!”

  “Mind your business, Angel! He got women’s clothes and towels stacked up, and I wanted to know who the fuck they were for!”

  “Look. She’s business, and that business is none of yours. Stay in your fucking lane! You know better than to be snooping in my shit,” Bryce said angrily.

  She was silent and looked furious. That was when I studied her. She was a pretty brown-skinned girl. Her look was similar to mine. Same type of frame, complexion. Except her hair was in a curly weave.

  “Are you fucking her?” she finally asked.

  Bryce ignored her.

  “Well, why is she here?”

  “Let’s go!” Angel commanded, pushing her toward the door.

  I took this opportunity to plead my case to her. Maybe she could help me. “No, listen to me! Call the police please. Your man kid—”

  Before I could finish, Bryce placed his hands over my mouth. I struggled against him and tried to pull his hands away.

  The girl’s eyes widened. And she didn’t fight Angel now.

  “Get her out of here.” Bryce’s tone was icy.

  “I’m sorry, baby! I didn’t mean to mess nothing up. You know I’m still dealing with my insecurities!” she yelled as she walked out of the room with Angel.

  Once she was gone, Bryce released me. I slapped him with all my might. He just stood there and looked at me. It made me so angry, I lunged at him. “I’m sick of this shit. Let me the fuck out of here!” I started attacking him. I was able to get a few licks in before he grabbed both my arms. His towel dropped again. He didn’t reach to pick it up. Instead, he started kissing me. I struggled against him and against his mouth and said, “Get the fuck off of me!” I started beating his back with my fists.

  But he was relentless, and he wouldn’t stop rubbing his lips against mine and sliding his tongue in my mouth. He massaged my butt until the pounding of my fists on his back grew less and less. He was rubbing all over my body with his hands, and I, for some dumb and weak reason, was returning the fire of his kiss! His hands cupped my breasts, and he started playing with my nipples.

  I could feel his hard dick pressing against my thigh. He continued to tease my lips with his, making me moan. Then, when I felt my knees get a little weak, he pulled away, breaking our kiss. Bryce turned off the lights before he exited, leaving me completely alone.

  I lay down on the bed. I didn’t know wh
y I couldn’t get the image of Bryce naked out of my head, and the things he did to me. And the fact that I couldn’t get those images out of my head made me feel like crap. I mean, he was my abductor. He had hurt me, called me out of my name. Had not only accused my husband of things, but had also threatened to kill him. Still, I knew there was some type of attraction. I told myself that that was all it was. Bryce was a handsome man. At the end of the day, I still loved and believed in my husband.

  A vision of Bryce’s naked body flashed before me again. Before I knew it, I turned over on my back. I pulled the dress up to my neck and started playing with my nipples with both my hands. I moaned deeply, then licked my fingertips before rubbing them across my now hard-as-rubies nipples. I allowed one hand to rotate across them both and let my other hand rub my thighs before resting between my legs. I rubbed my fingers against my clit. It felt so good, I rubbed it with a faster motion, grinding my body into the bed, trying to create the illusion for myself that I was having sex.

  I raised my legs higher, stuck two fingers inside myself, and drilled extra hard. I continued to moan and tasted myself with one hand before adding a third finger inside myself. I was so wet, and I felt the familiar sensation of cumming. I stroked faster, and the feeling continued to creep up toward my insides. When the euphoric feeling finally hit me, I tossed my head back and moaned. I had come so hard and good, I knocked myself right out, falling into a slumber.

  The next morning Bryce came to my room bright and early. I didn’t know what time it was and I was still half asleep when he walked in and laid fresh linens, clothes, and towels on the dresser. There was also some food and drinks.

  Thoughts of last night flashed in my head. I saw Bryce naked again. The muscles in his chest and arms. Droplets of water running down his body. The way he had kissed me and how wet I felt when I started playing with myself. It was the craziest thing in the world for me, because I didn’t even like Bryce. But I guess there was sexual tension. I wondered how he felt. The funny thing to me was the fact that he acted like he hated me just as much as I hated him, yet he felt the need to kiss and touch me.