Mine

by Aubrey Dark

  Shelves of books surrounded me on all sides that I could see. There was a single leather couch in the middle of the room, and a small endtable with a lamp. The doctor was standing next to the lamp. His hand fell down to his side. I tried to move my lips. My jaw wouldn’t move, but I could form the words I wanted to, even if they sounded a bit mumbled.

  “Doctor… doctor Damore—”

  “Rien. Please. Call me Rien.”

  He walked over to where I was lying down and knelt beside me. I wanted to run, oh God, I wanted to run. The look in his eyes was back, the look of a predator. It made me think of a book I had read when I was a kid, called Watership Down. The book was about rabbits, and they had a word for the feeling I was experiencing right now. The feeling that something so dangerous is looking at you that you can’t move. You’re so scared that every muscle freezes, and you can’t even run away. They called it going tharn.

  I was going tharn right then. I didn’t know what to say, or if anything I said would matter. I couldn’t even move when he took my hand and held it in both of his.

  “I’ve given you something that causes temporary paralysis. So you can’t run away. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  One of his hands moved up, stroking my arm. The touch sent a shiver through my body, only my body couldn’t shiver anymore.

  “You can still feel this, can’t you? You can feel my hand?”

  “Y—yes,” I said.

  “Good. I’m glad you can still feel things.”

  “Rien. Please. Listen to me. I’m not Mrs. Steadhill.”

  “No, you’re not, are you?” Rien said. His voice sounded absentminded, as though he was far away. His hand still caressed my arm slowly, sending those slow thrills through my body. He cupped my elbow for a moment, his warm palm holding me as though measuring something, then went back to stroking. His hand moved from my fingers up my forearm, trailing up to where my navy dress stopped at the shoulder. Susan’s navy dress.

  “Please,” I said. “I don’t know who that man is out there, but I’m not married to him. He hired me as an actress. My name is Sara. Sara Everett. I hadn’t even met that man before today!”

  “Is that right?”

  I breathed in deeply. My panic receded a bit, now that I wasn’t lying next to a half-dissected Gary. I tried to think clearly.

  “He hired me to act like his wife.”

  “Is that what you were doing when you flirted with me?”

  I stared up at Rien’s eyes. In the dim light, his irises looked like tigereye. Deep brown with a ribbon of gold floating within. His expression was blank even as his hand kept caressing my arm. One long stroke after another. In a way, it was soothing.

  “I was playing the part.”

  “Did the part call for kissing someone other than your husband?”

  “You were the one who kissed me!” I cried.

  “You didn’t stop me.”

  “I tried to. I did. Anyway, she thought you were attractive.”

  “She?”

  “Susan. My character,” I stammered. “That is, I thought she would think you were attractive. I wanted it to be realistic. He told me that his wife flirted with lots of other men.”

  “That’s what he told you?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you were only playing a part.”

  “Yes.” I breathed out a sigh. “So you see, I’m not the person you want to kill.”

  “No,” he agreed. “I can’t kill you.”

  I almost cried with relief. He wasn’t going to kill me. He understood. This was all a mistake.

  “Thank you,” I said. “Thank you. I just want this to be over.”

  “Oh, it’s not over,” he said.

  “I—what?”

  “This isn’t over at all,” he said. He raised one hand to my face and caressed my cheek.

  “It’s not over,” he repeated. “Not for you, anyway.”

  “You said you wouldn’t kill me,” I said. Panic choked my throat. “You said—”

  “I won’t kill you,” Rien said. “But I can’t let you go.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Rien

  She looked up at me with such horror that I almost laughed. Oh, yes, she was a problem. A terribly sticky problem. But I always dealt with problems. I didn’t doubt my ability to figure out how to deal with this particular problem.

  In the meantime, I had a new toy to play with.

  “I’m sorry. Is the paralysis still working correctly? You can feel my hands, right?” I touched her temple, rubbing in a slow circle.

  She nodded.

  “Y—yes. I can feel everything.”

  “You are a beautiful young woman, Sara,” I said. My hand moved alongside her jawline, memorizing the softness of her skin. Her eyes followed my fingers as they moved. “A very interesting young woman. An aspiring actress. Trying to get your big break, yes? And somehow you managed to end up here.”

  “What are you doing?” she asked. Her voice trembled.

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I won’t kill you.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  I smiled.

  “You know something, Sara?”

  “Let me go,” she whispered. In her eyes I could tell she was beginning to understand that she wasn’t getting out of this room.

  “I’ve never made anyone feel good before. I always torture them.”

  She stared at me wordlessly. I ran my fingers through her hair, spreading the long dark locks over the couch. Her hair was the same shade of brown as the leather.

  “Like your fake husband in the other room there,” I said. “I woke him up before beginning to cut. Then I cut right along the hairline as he screamed and screamed. You didn’t wake up. I peeled his skin back with forceps as he screamed.”

  Her eyes watered, and I could see fear creeping into her.

  “He deserved every last little bit of torture,” I said. “And that wasn’t even the last bit! Oh, no. That was only the beginning. He’s still alive.”

  A tear ran down her cheek. I reached down and wiped it away with my thumb.

  “Don’t worry, beautiful Sara. You’re not like him, are you?”

  She shook her head tightly, the tears starting to come heavily now.

  “Please—”

  “Don’t ask me again to let you go. I won’t. But I won’t torture you like that, either. Not if you’re not a bad person. You’re not a bad person, are you?”

  “No.” Her voice was a crack in the dark air of the library.

  “Then I won’t hurt you. But you know something, Sara? It’s true. I’ve never made anyone feel good—really good—before.”

  My hands moved slowly behind her back to unclasp her dress.

  “You can feel everything?” I asked.

  “Rien—”

  “Good. Then this should be very, very fun.”

  Sara

  I gaped as Rien’s hands moved around underneath my back. I hadn’t lied—I could feel every touch of his.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Having a bit of fun.”

  He unzipped the back of my dress. His hands moved up and slid my shoulder straps down.

  “No,” I said, unwilling to believe that this was happening. “No. Rien.”

  He leaned forward and kissed me on my bare neck. His lips burned my skin with heat. Despite myself, I felt my body respond to his touch. His hand moved down over my breasts, my stomach, and came to rest on my hip. He clasped me there and kissed me lightly on the underside of my chin.

  “You’re the only one who’s ever commented on my sculpture,” he said. His mouth was right next to my ear. “Did you know that? Most people ignore it. I’m glad you can appreciate art, even if you didn’t understand what I meant by it.”

  “What… what—”

  “You thought I felt trapped, yes? Trapped in the glass globe. But I am the artist. I’m not trapped anywhere. You’re the one who’s
trapped.”

  “Rien, please—”

  “Trapped here with me.”

  His hand moved down and pulled the hem of my dress up. I gasped as he slid his hand underneath and pressed his fingers against my panties. A ferocious aching heat tore through my body at his touch down there. I wanted to twist away from him, but I couldn’t move. Worst of all, as his fingers began to slide up, I felt a terrible need for more, more pressure.

  “Don’t—”

  “No? You don’t want this?” He pulled his hand away, and a whimper escaped my throat involuntarily at the sudden departure.

  He smiled. The gold in his eyes shone brightly.

  “Don’t lie to me, Sara. Liars get punished. And you know what my kind of punishment is like.”

  I made a choking cry as I looked away. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t here. This was only a character, I thought. I could get through this, as long as it was pretend.

  Only pretend.

  “This is new to me, too, Sara,” he whispered. “I’ve never made anyone feel… good like this before.”

  He put his fingers back where they had been, stroking me through the fabric. I held back a moan. The strokes were setting my body afire, the spark of desire kindling an ache between my thighs that his fingers did nothing to relieve. His other hand grasped the top of my dress and pulled it down, exposing my breasts.

  “Rien—”

  “Hush. I know what you want. I can tell from your breath.”

  I bit down on my tongue as he bent over and kissed the tip of my nipple. The touch would have made my back arch against the couch, if my muscles worked. Tears burned the backs of my eyes, but this time they were tears of frustration.

  His tongue came out and licked me, curving around my nipple. His dark hair tickled my skin. I could feel everything, yes—the roughness of stubble on his chin on the underside of my breast, the softness of his hot tongue. And his lips—

  “Oh!” I cried aloud as he sealed his lips around my nipple and sucked hard. The fire in my body roared to new heights. The hand under my dress slid under my panties. I nearly screamed as his fingers explored my folds.

  “God, you’re wet,” he whispered. His breath chilled my nipple, making it harden. “You must want me so badly.”

  No. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want—

  “Ohhhh!” I moaned. He had plunged his fingers into me, and my body clenched around him. I wanted to buck against his hand, I wanted him to thrust his fingers deep into me, again, again, again…

  What was I thinking? What was I feeling? My body was a traitor, making me ache for this man, this killer, this criminal who would think nothing of opening me up. But oh, lord, when his fingers touched me inside, all I could think of was him opening me up in a different way, doing it again, harder, faster…

  Instead, he slid his fingers out slowly. The agony was unbearable, and I groaned. My panties were soaked now; I could feel the wet fabric against my skin. I needed him inside of me again, needed his touch. This! This was everything I had wanted. His hands possessed some magic that shuddered me down to the core. His eyes stared at me so open and desiring. He was real. His desire was real. And he wanted me.

  “Tell me what you want, Sara,” he murmured. His lips traced a circle around my breast. I blinked back my tears. I would not give in to him, no, not now. I would be strong. I would get through this.

  Without warning, he sucked my nipple hard. A jolt of pain shot through my body, and I cried aloud. He released my nipple, and the relief washed through my body, along with a terrible desire for more. My pulse quickened.

  “Then I suppose I’ll have to read you,” he said, his whisper. “Try not to fake it too much. Otherwise, how will I know what you want?”

  “I don’t… I don’t want—”

  “No. No, of course you don’t.”

  His fingers went back to stroking me on either side, not putting any pressure where I needed it most. The hollow ache of my core was so needy that I wanted to scream. How could my body be so responsive to this man? He was a crazy person, certifiably insane. A murderer. And yet, when his finger grazed my swollen sex, I nearly cried with delight.

  His mouth moved to my other nipple, leaving the first one aching and sore. And still his fingers stroked, stroked, everywhere except where I needed. As his teeth ran across my breast, I shivered in anticipation.

  What kind of a person was I, that this man could make me need him so much?

  He pulled his hand back from underneath my dress, and I nearly sobbed with frustration. I couldn’t let him see how much I wanted release. I couldn’t let him see what heights he had brought me to.

  With the hand that had been stroking me, he now reached up to my exposed breast. With one nipple in his mouth, he pinched the other with his thumb and finger. A cry escaped my throat as the pinch sent a searing burn through my chest. His fingers were still wet with my juices, and the pinch turned into a slick caress over my erect nipple.

  “Am I hurting you? Please tell me if I am so I can ignore you.”

  “Rien—”

  He twisted my nipple hard, and I screamed, a short scream that went nowhere in the library, sucked up by the pages of the books that surrounded us.

  “Pain and pleasure aren’t really different, are they?” he asked. “Like flipping your pillow over in the middle of the night. One side warm, one cold. You must have one before the other feels good again.”

  He twisted again, and instead of screaming, I drew a breath inside of me, trying desperately to retreat from my body. I was not there. I was not feeling anything. This wasn’t me. I was a character again. I felt nothing, and nothing hurt. I would not be affected by Rien. He had no power over me.

  But then he bent his head and took my hurt nipple into his mouth and I was pulled back into my body again. His tongue softened on my breast, caressing, and I bit back a moan of pleasure. Yes, he had power. He could make me want him, despite everything.

  “I said I wouldn’t hurt you, Sara, but I can’t help myself.” His hand moved down and rested on my stomach. Such a small, intimate gesture. It made nausea twist through me. The way he held me, stroked me—it was as though I was his possession. His toy. And he was doing whatever he wanted with me, including toying with my emotions.

  I closed my eyes and tried to remember him with the scalpel. Him torturing Gary on the operating room table. I tried to remember all of the blood. If I could hold onto these images, I could fight back against this feeling that threatened to take my whole body over.

  He sucked in air, teeth grazing my nipple, and I shivered with the chill of air moving across my aching sensitive skin.

  “I hope you’re enjoying this, Sara,” he said. “I don’t want any harm to come to you. Permanent harm, that is. But it’s been so long since I’ve had… fun like this. It’s hard to find the right kind of person. The kind of person who would enjoy it.”

  I opened my eyes. He was leaning over me, looking straight into my face. His hair was dark, but his eyes were golden. So warm that I wanted to reach out to him for help. Save me from yourself.

  I wanted to tell him no, that I wasn’t that kind of person. The kind of person who would enjoy this: being paralyzed, brought to dangle dangerously over a torturous edge of pleasure. But that wouldn’t be true. As much as I outwardly reviled him, my skin ached for his touch.

  Under his fingers, my body hummed.

  Still looking deep into my eyes, Rien slid his hand back down under my panties. I sucked in air and didn’t scream as his fingers moved alongside my entrance, his hot needful fingertips probing, stroking, caressing my folds. My heart pounded in my ears, thrumming like music.

  “Rien…”

  He said nothing, only leaned forward. His lips were inches from mine. His eyes fixed mine, and I thought again of the rabbits in that book. How, when they had come face to face with a predator, they froze and could not move. Even if I had not been sedated, I don’t think I could have moved an inch.
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  Again his fingers slid into me, thick and slow. I gasped as he filled me, stretching my opening slowly, slowly, so slowly that my eyes burned with tears of frustration.

  “Rien.”

  His lips moved slightly, but I could not make out his words. His fingers slid out, then back again, again slowly. I moaned. Forgotten were all of my promises to myself. I could not keep myself from wanting this, no, not when his fingers stretched me and tortured me with the thought of ecstasy just over the edge. I would fall, he would make me fall. My body ached to arch against his fingers, but I had no control over any muscles down there and I had to wait.

  Wait for him.

  “Please, Rien,” I murmured, staring up into his eyes. I could not read his face; he was hidden from me. His fingers slid in and out faster, though, and I cried out loud as his thumb grazed my swollen, aching clit.

  “Yes.” I said. I could feel the end coming. I felt my body rising up inside as his rhythm matched exactly what I would have chosen, had I been able to move. His fingers thrust into me over and over, his thumb brushing me again and sending another gasp shuddering through my body. I was close. So close.

  The light in the room seemed to flicker and dim, but that was only my eyelashes fluttering as I felt the pressure inside of me build and come to a head.

  “Harder,” I whispered, “harder, oh please, harder,” and clenched my eyes shut, waiting for my release.

  Then his fingers slid out and he was gone.

  Gone?

  My body ached for fingers that no longer touched me. I opened my eyes, my breath ragged in my throat, staring up at him in disbelief. My body clenched, clenched at nothing. He was gone, and I felt utterly hollow. His face was implacable, totally unreadable. He didn’t frown, or scowl.

  “Rien,” I gasped. “Please don’t… don’t stop…”

  He smiled as he leaned back, away from me, and raised his hand between us. His fingers glistened in the light. As I watched, he licked my juices off of his hand, one finger at a time.

  I moaned. My body was wracked with a need that overpowered all rational thought.

  “That’s enough playtime for now. You’re an excellent actress, Sara. I almost believed you there, at the end.”