Surrender

by Kitty Thomas

  But Brian had looked haunted when he'd really taken a good look into Julie's eyes. Gabe knew Brian would see it-would see Mina in there. Despite his many flaws, Brian was observant. Very little got past him.

  Gabe could only guess at the things Mina had been through, and likewise Brian would only guess at Julie's history, but at least now he might tolerate her in the house and stay away. Gabe didn't want to admit it, but he'd developed a grudging respect, maybe even something friendship adjacent when it came to Brian. Watching how he'd cared for Mina changed a lot about what Gabe had thought he'd known about the man.

  Gabe slipped into the room next to Julie's and turned on the flat screen panel on the wall. Her image came into focus, crisp and clean. That girl slept like a rock, which was crazy given her recent captivity. He had wired her room up the previous night when he'd woken from a nightmare involving her. The surveillance was the same as the set up in the rest of the house, but he'd redirected the feed back to his current room. This was creepy as fuck. He knew it was creepy as fuck, but he wanted to watch over her and make sure she was okay. Keep telling yourself that. Keep telling yourself you aren't trying to get a glimpse of her naked because you think stealth or force is the only way you'll see it.

  Since the previous night, he'd tried without much success not to think too hard about the things that must have happened to her at Dmitri's house. And for all those months. Gabe couldn't stop thinking about their date where he'd learned just how innocent she was. Not for the first time he found himself fantasizing that he'd taken her that first night and to hell with morals. As wrong as it was, it still would have spared her what actually happened. Even if she couldn't have known that without comparison, Gabe would have been the far kinder option.

  Or... if he hadn't left her. He should have kept going to the bar. He could have gotten rid of whatever jackass had lured her away. Or he would have known the second she'd gone missing. Had nobody cared to search for her? Had no one noticed her missing? What about those assholes at her work? But where would they have looked? Where would Gabe have looked? It wasn't as if he could have foreseen the Dmitri situation. It was dumb luck that he'd stumbled upon her again.

  He'd been angry with Anton for setting the meeting up, but if he hadn't, Gabe never would have found her or known she was missing. Julie on the screen disappeared into the bathroom, probably to turn on the water.

  Good girl.

  She returned a few moments later, kicked off her shoes, and sprawled across the bed, sobbing. Of course she was. What had happened with Brian-well nothing had happened with Brian, but from her perspective it wouldn't be nothing. There was a knock on the door and Julie wiped her eyes and went over to it.

  "W-who is it?"

  "It's Phyllis, dear. I brought you some peppermint tea."

  Julie opened the door and Phyllis rolled in a little tray with a pot of tea, a teacup, and sugar. "Push that button on the wall, number 3, and I'll come up and take it when you're done."

  "Thank you."

  From her expression, Phyllis noticed Julie had been crying but she didn't say anything. She knew better than to butt into the house affairs. When she'd gone, Julie went back into the bathroom to shut off the water.

  She went to the tray. Her hand shook as she poured the tea and dropped a couple of sugar cubes in. Gabe winced as the metal spoon scraped around the cup. He'd put the microphone too close to where she now stood. Julie sat on the edge of the bed with the cup and saucer in her hands. The porcelain shook as tears moved down her cheeks.

  That was it. He wasn't going to sit here and watch her fall apart. To hell with giving her space. He'd tried desperately not to touch her at all the previous night. Except for the brief hand on her knee and the hand at her back as they'd walked into the house—an old unconscious habit he barely noticed anymore—he'd kept a polite distance because she didn't need another man pawing at her. Not now.

  Gabe turned off the flat screen and went to her room. She jumped when he walked in without knocking. It made him irrationally angry. It was his goddamn room. He wasn't going to knock every fucking time!

  "Gabe? What-?"

  He took the teacup and saucer from her hands and set it on the cart. Then he pulled her up and into his arms. She sobbed against him while he petted her hair.

  "Shhhh you're okay. Everything's going to be fine now."

  "W-what if he comes back?"

  Who? Dmitri? No-Brian.

  "He won't. Everyone in the house knows you're off limits, and now Brian does, too."

  He guided her back to sit on the edge of the bed and passed the cup and saucer back to her. "Drink your tea."

  Gabe sat in a nearby chair while she sipped at the hot brew.

  "Did you run a bath?" he asked. He was certain she had, but it wasn't as if he could announce he knew that.

  "Yes. It might get cold."

  "I'll drain it and start it over. Finish your tea."

  She didn't protest when he went to the bathroom and drained the water out. Gabe's bathroom had a large claw foot tub. It was deep enough for the water to nearly cover a grown man if you sunk down a little.

  When he refilled it, he added bubbles. He should have wired up this room too—as if that wouldn't have betrayed bad intentions. If he was watching her to keep her safe, then wiring up the bathroom would be inappropriate. He'd known that the previous night, and he knew it now. Still, he wasn't sure if he had the strength to leave her naked in the tub without at least having a high definition view of the event.

  She was his. He'd paid half a fucking million for her. No. You paid to rescue her-his better angels whispered. Fuck that. She's mine!

  He could look at her whenever he wanted. He could touch her whenever he wanted. However he wanted. He could make her wear humiliating outfits that barely covered an inch of her skin. He could share her. He could parade her around. He could fill those delicate little orifices with anything he wanted. Fingers, tongue, cock, toys, those twisted little fucking machines they kept buying. He wanted to put her in one of the house's special chastity belts with the attached dildo set on the lowest vibration until she crawled and begged for him to let her come. He wanted to watch her whimper and writhe at his feet, begging for each new delicious game he would introduce her to.

  She was all his. There wasn't a thing in the world she could do to stop him or protest or escape him. He could have her every night and every day however and whenever he wanted for as long as he wanted and the only weapons she had were that pouty lip and her tears.

  That was enough.

  He couldn't bring himself to betray her or hurt her, and he didn't get off on unwelcome pain like Brian did. Now, in the light of day, it seemed impossible to think she would ever willingly come to him. How would that bridge be crossed? How could it be? If he tried anything, he would never know if she wanted it or if she was just scared and didn't want to anger him. If he didn't, he couldn't imagine she'd ever approach him on her own. How could anyone who'd been treated like she had willingly enter even into a vanilla relationship with a man again? This whole thing was fucked.

  And the worst part was, no matter what he'd told her, he could see reaching a point where he had no more patience, where he might just take and damn the consequences to her soul or to his. If he couldn't manage to find a way to woo her into his bed and then further into his darker tastes, at what point would he snap and do it anyway? At what point would he resent her too much to give a damn about her feelings?

  It was evil and unfair, but goddammit she'd wanted him so much. As much as he'd wanted her. They'd spent months flirting and bantering at the bar. And if he hadn't been so fucking stupid and scared her away the night they went out, things could have been so different. He could have had her in his collar by now. It wasn't as if she'd never been attracted to him. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen the whisper of the submissive urge in the way she reacted to him without realizing it.

  She'd begged him not to leave her that night. And yet he had. Like a fu
cking idiot. And here they were in this place where she might not feel safe to do anything with anyone again, where she might be too traumatized to cross that bridge and where he didn't know if he was strong enough not to push her across it.

  Gabe turned the water off and went back into the main room. Julie had finished her cup of tea and was now looking at him like a cat about to be taken to the vet. Wary. Ready to scramble and claw if he got too near. The embrace she'd melted and sobbed into minutes before would not have an encore.

  It's been one day. Get a grip.

  "Well, I'll leave you to it, then. Will you have dinner with me later?"

  "Okay."

  Gabe nodded and left the room. Moments after he'd closed the door behind him, he heard the lock click in place. Well, served him right. He had barged in. What did he expect her to do?

  He really should be going about his day, training the girls, having a little fun—anything to take the edge off, but instead he found himself glued to the screen in his room. He watched her finish her tea and disappear into the bathroom. She was in there a long time, and he worried she'd fallen asleep in the tub. He was ready to go get a master key and storm his way in there after her, when Julie emerged from the bathroom.

  She was wrapped up in his too-large-for-her terrycloth bathrobe. She ran her fingers through her hair and pulled back the covers on the bed. She'd run the bath he'd asked. She'd drank her tea like he'd asked. And now she was lying down for a nap like he'd asked. He had to get a collar around this girl's throat somehow. And he didn't want to do it the evil way.

  When she took off the robe, Gabe's breath hitched in his throat. It hadn't been that hard to imagine what she must look like nude, particularly with what she'd been wearing last night at Dmitri's. But seeing it was another thing. He had no doubt Dmitri had many ways of abusing the girls he'd been prostituting, but whatever punishments he'd devised, he hadn't allowed anything to mar their skin.

  It made sense. After all, the clients of Dmitri's house liked it vanilla and clean and elegant and well-oiled and dressed and perfumed. Those men wouldn't be turned on by the deep red welt of a whip's lash. They wanted the perfectly groomed, coiffed, and thrilled-to-please fantasy. They wanted girls that were nice and compliant.

  Julie was thinner than Gabe would like these days, but she'd return to her former more healthy weight no doubt after a few weeks on Phyllis's food. Her hip bones poked out a little, and Gabe could see the slight outline of her ribs. But this didn't detract from the gentle curve of her waist or the pert breasts he wanted to run his tongue over.

  Between her legs there was no hair. The skin was smooth and no doubt soft, like he liked it. Gabe tried not to think about the fact that she wasn't waxed because she was into it, but because Dmitri's clients had been. And yet—she might let the hair grow out for a time—briefly reclaim her freedom and privacy—but if she became his, it was getting waxed right back off again and staying that way forever.

  It wasn't that he had any problem with the way a woman naturally looked. It was that hair got in the way of his pleasure and hers. He wanted to lick smooth unobstructed skin. He wanted a clear view that kept nothing hidden from his gaze. At least she was used to waxing.

  After a few minutes, Julie got into the bed and pulled the covers over her. She didn't bother putting any clothes on like she had the night before. With her door locked, she must be feeling braver. Once she'd finally fallen asleep, Gabe got up and turned off the flat screen and went downstairs. He had a raging hard on and he needed to find someone who would be happy to play the way he liked.

  ***

  Julie woke with a start and glanced at the clock on Gabe's nightstand. She'd only been asleep an hour. She would like to say she felt rested, but all she could feel at the moment was her heart galloping through her chest like a wild horse. She'd dreamed she was back at Dmitri's. It was just another day, just another gross client. Just another time when she had to close her eyes and pretend it was Gabe.

  And now Gabe was here and she was afraid she might have to sleep with him. How screwed up was that? The fantasy of the one guy that had gotten her through the worst of it and now she was horrified she might actually get the fantasy? But imaginary Gabe had been tame with the same bland desires as Dmitri's clientele. With fantasy Gabe, she had been the one in control. It was the one bit of pretend-control that had helped her stay sane in there.

  Julie got up and put some clothes on—bright fuschia shorts and a white tee shirt—and splashed some water on her face in the bathroom. She'd forgotten to call Phyllis to take her tea things, so she pressed the number three on the intercom. She didn't bother with shoes. It was the middle of the summer and the floor was a comfortable temperature beneath her feet. It wasn't like she was going anywhere.

  She unlocked the door and peered out into the hallway. She didn't know what she'd expected. Gabe to be lurking like a hungry wolf ready to devour her? She checked next door, but he wasn't in his room either. She went in. This really should be her room, but it felt forbidden to be in here. Sure, there was only one small window and it was a bit dark, but she'd feel much better if she was in this room and not taking Gabe's much nicer, larger room from him.

  The accommodations were simple—a large bed with some shackles on the wall. Don't think about that part. There was a box at the foot of the bed. Julie opened it and then wished she hadn't. All sorts of twisted, kinky toys and bondage equipment. She slammed the box shut quickly and then went to check out the small attached bathroom. On the wall back in the main room was a large flat screen TV. Odd, because she hadn't noticed a TV in Gabe's room. She couldn't find a remote so she pushed the power button at the bottom of the screen.

  It took her a moment to realize what she was seeing. She'd expected cable or satellite TV. A movie, or a TV show, or the news. Instead, what she saw was Gabe's room...her room. He was spying on her? Her face flamed as she realized she'd walked around in the bedroom after her bath without clothes on. Had he been watching? Maybe not. Maybe he'd gone back downstairs.

  Fear would have been normal. And a part of her wanted to run and hide. She wasn't sure how much good it would do her, but it was an option she was at least considering. But then that friendly feeling of anger returned, pressing warmth up the back of her neck and into her cheeks. It was a surging, powerful energy. Underneath it was hurt and betrayal, but she wouldn't let herself feel that. Just the anger. Anger felt safer.

  Fuck Gabe. Fuck his pretend noble morals. Fuck his supposed kindness. He was spying on her, watching her undress. After everything that had happened with Dmitri he couldn't give her an inch of space? He didn't care about her any more than that? All men were monsters. All of them were liars. Hadn't she learned that well enough by now?

  She'd been kidding herself, trying to keep the fantasy version of Gabe once the real one had descended into her life again. If he'd had soft feelings for her, that had been before—when she was pure and innocent and sweet and probably still pushed all his creepy little buttons—just another virgin for him to deflower. But now? Now that she was all spoiled and used up and tainted. Oh, now he thought he could do whatever he wanted with her. Why give her the illusion of any of this? Why not take what the fuck he wanted? Like all the rest did?

  It wasn't like she wasn't used to it. It wasn't as if trauma hadn't become the new normal. She'd probably be more likely to fall apart and turn into a wilting flower if he was nice to her. Nice threw her off balance. She didn't know what to do with nice. Casual cruelty had become expected, routine. There was comfort in routine.

  And then there was all that money he'd paid Dmitri. Of course he planned to do whatever he wanted with her. He'd bought her. She was just another expensive possession to him.

  Julie flicked off the screen, and before her brain could catch up to what the rest of her was doing, she raced down the stairs. She practically ran over Annette in the foyer.

  "Where's Gabe?" she demanded.

  Annette was taken aback no doubt by the sudden p
ersonality shift. "I-I don't know. Is something wrong? Can I help?"

  "No. Where might he be?"

  "Well, I mean, h-he could be in one of the play rooms. I thought I saw him going that way about an hour ago. He looked pretty keyed up."

  "And where are these play rooms?"

  Annette pointed down a long hallway.

  "Thanks."

  "Do you want me to come with you?"

  "No."

  "It might not be wise t-to interrupt him."

  Julie's eyes narrowed. "I'll be fine." She wasn't sure if she would be, but she was at least reasonably certain he wouldn't shoot her. She hadn't seen a single gun on anybody since she'd been here. And she'd been looking pretty intently for them.

  "O-okay, then." Annette excused herself and went back to the other end of the house.

  After everything Julie had survived, she wasn't about to cower and huddle anymore. She was done. She'd risked her life more than once to try to escape Dmitri. If she couldn't escape Gabe and he wasn't going to treat her like a human, what difference did it make what happened to her now? She wasn't going to sit around all weak and demure hoping he would have mercy on her. He'd been creeping on her. If he wanted to be a monster, then he sure as hell better be one out in the open. She couldn't stand the pretense. The uncertainty. She couldn't stand to sit like a terrified little rabbit, waiting to be his prey.

  She poked her head into a few empty rooms that looked like they could be porno sets. They probably were. Then she heard voices coming from the end of the hall. She took a deep breath, grasped the doorknob, and pushed the door open.

  It took her a moment to realize what she was seeing. This room looked similar to the others. Like a porno set. There was a professional camera set up in one corner but it didn't appear to be on. Neither were the bright set lights. On one end of the room was a blonde girl. She was naked and on her knees, tied up, and attached to a machine that was fucking her. Gabe sat in a chair in front of her, looking amused, while she was busy attending to his erection with her mouth.