by J. L. Beck
Another thought pops into my mind, the heated water beating down on us. Is he going to ask for his shirt back? Maybe he is going to send me back completely naked. A shudder of fear moves through my body.
“Can I still wear your shirt?” I ask as I watch him squirt some shampoo into his hand. I try to keep my eyes trained to the floor rather than his body. There’s only a foot of space between us and if I move even and inch I’m going to be rubbing some part of my body against his.
“What?” He asks as if I’ve asked him a stupid question.
“Your shirt, the one I’ve been wearing… can I keep it.” He starts washing my hair without warning, his thick fingers threading through the strands with an unfound tenderness.
“It’s dirty… I’ll give you something else to wear.” My mind relaxes at his words and my body softens into his touch.
His large hands gently massage my scalp and I find myself leaning into him as a low moan escapes my lips. I instantly regret making that noise and secretly hope he didn't hear it though I know he did. When I open my eyes and peak up at him his eyes are beaming with lust. I worry for a moment he might try and have his way with me, after all there isn't anyone that could stop him...
“Close your eyes.” His voice is low and rougher than before and fear sneaks up on me. My previous thoughts replaying in my mind.
“W-Why?” I stutter my body stiffening, making my muscles ache.
“So I can rinse out your hair.” He takes the sprayer off the wall mount.
“Oh…” I mumble and close my eyes feeling him run his fingers through my hair as he rinses it.
I let my head fall back and the position change has my head spinning. My stomach clenches, and I’m so overcome with dizziness that I think I might fall. Ivan must notice a change in my body because the next thing I know his arm comes around my midsection, holding me flush to his chest with a steal grip.
“You okay?” He ask while holding me upright. My bare breasts rub against his muscled chest with every ragged breath I take and I can't help the heat the creeps up my body.
“Yeah,” I manage to say but it comes out more like a breath than a word. “Just a little dizzy is all.”
“I told you...you need to eat more. If you had finished that sandwich like I asked you probably wouldn't be so weak.” He attaches the spray back to the wall mount and takes a washcloth that’s hanging on a hook all while keeping a tight hold on my.
“Hold this,” he says and hands me the washcloth. I take it from him and he squeezes some soap onto it. It smells woodsy like grass, and the outdoors. He takes the washcloth back and starts to wash my back and my shoulders. My aching muscles relax at his touch and I melt into him.
When he is done with that he continues down my arms before he suddenly spinning me around so that my back is against his chest. Another wave of dizziness hits me but I press my hands to the wall and steady myself.
“Just lean against me, I’ll hold you up.” I do as he says and lean into him. My breath hitches when I feel his erection pressed up against my ass. My heart beats furiously against my rib cage. I've never been so close to a man before.
He starts washing my stomach and my chest, moving gently across my skin. There's a kindness to his touch, one I don't understand.
How can his touch be so gentle, so kind, when he's doing all the bad things he is? He's a criminal… one who sells women and I should be running from his touch, not embracing it. He's the reason I'm here, isn't he? When the wash rag moves lower all my thoughts fly out the window.
“Spread your legs.” He orders gruffly. I feel his chest heaving against my back. Against my better judgment I do as he asks and spread my legs slightly… just enough for his hand to fit between them. When I feel his wash cloth covered fingers between my legs I gasp and my hands automatically grab onto his wrist to stop any further movements.
“I’m not going to hurt you, just relax.” I know I shouldn’t trust him, but his words assure me and slowly I release my grip on his wrist once again allowing him to clean me. I look down watching as blood mixes in with the water swirling down the drain. Once he’s finished washing me, he tosses the wash cloth to the floor of the shower. I twist out of his grip and turn around to face him.
When I see the look in his gunmetal gray eyes I’m frozen into place. He looks so unhinged, so pent up with need or aggression or something I don’t understand...did I do something wrong?
“I promise, I’m not going to hurt you, but I want you to do something for me.” I blink slowly, my lashes fanning against my cheek. A nervous knot unravels in my belly.
Trusting his word blindly yet again I nod my head even though I know for certain that this is going to be something I don’t want to do.
He looms above me for a moment, gauging my expression most likely before he loops his arm around me again like he did earlier, holding me up to his left side. My right arm is dangling over his, while my left arm is in front of us. My gaze drops to his obscenely large penis.
“Give me your hand.” His voice cracks, revealing a vulnerableness. I place my hand in his and he guides me to his shaft.
“I want you to beat me off. Have you ever given a hand job before?” I feel my cheeks heat at the word. Hand job.
“No.” I whisper, feeling ashamed. I’m not sure why I feel the way I do, maybe cause most eighteen year olds know more about sex, and the male anatomy than I do.
A part of me wants to give back to him for being so kind to me, well the other part of me knows that being kind to one another is just plain human decency.
I look up at him watching as his jaw clenches the muscles jumping. Is he angry? He seems mad and that only makes me more nervous. His grip tightens on mine, as he places our hands against his penis. I gasp at the simple touch...it’s smooth, and surprisingly soft beneath my hand.
“I’m going to guide you through it. I’m not going to hurt you or force you to do it but I won’t let you stop until I’m finished, if you do this, okay?” I hear the want in his voice, he wants this, he wants me and for some reason that makes me happy.
“Okay.” I whisper. I feel nervous but surprisingly I’m not really scared, not like I was with the guys who came into my cell. Ivan keeps saying that he won’t hurt me and I believe him. He doesn’t want to hurt me, and he said he won’t force me. He is giving me a choice and I want to do this for him.
Within seconds of my response he starts guiding my hand up and down his shaft with his hand still wrapped tightly around mine. He goes slow at first but I think that’s just so he doesn’t frighten me, and after a few strokes he glances over at me to check if I’m okay like he half expects me to starts screaming or crying.
I bite at my bottom lip nervously when he catches me looking down at where our hands meet. Heat creeps up my neck, and onto my cheeks, and I wonder if I’m doing this right? I know he said he’d guide me and he is, but I don’t know if this is how it’s done?
He starts picking up speed with each stroke, and a deep groan of pleasure vibrates from within his chest, slamming into me. I don’t know what it is about that sound but I suddenly want to hear it again, and I realize I want to be the one drawing that sound from deep within him.
“Can you do this by yourself?” He asks me with a near breathless voice.
I eagerly nod my head and see surprise flicker in his gaze. I want to please him, right now in this moment I want nothing more and it’s not because I feel like I owe him, I just want to do it. I want to be close to someone, anyone. So when he releases his hold on my hand I do exactly as he was just doing, watching his facial expressions to determine if I’m doing it right or not.
He put his hand on the shower wall in front of us and lets his head hang down. I watch him closely as he closes his eyes, and his lips part, a growl emitting from his throat.
“Faster.” He orders through clenched teeth. A heat settles between my thighs, his voice vibrating through me as I stroke him faster, my thumb rubbing over the slit at the hea
d of his penis with each stroke. I squeeze him as hard as I can, my hand not quite big enough to wrap around him all the way. His eyes flicker open again and he looks down at my body.
I feel his arms around me tighten, pulling me close to his body as my hardened nipples rub against his heated skin and my bare pussy rubs against his leg. A number of sensations course through me, fear, excitement, pleasure...I refuse to cling to any one of them afraid of what may come if I do. Instead I focus on Ivan.
“Fuck...fuck…” He roars, his hand slamming against the tiled wall. The intensity of pleasure pours out of him and in my grip I feel his hardened length throb. My arm starts to grow tired but I know he has to be close. I continue with the same rhythm until I hear him growl, and watch eagerly as ropes of semen shoot from his penis and onto the tile in front of us. The sticky substance coats my palm and when I release my hold on him and pull my hand away I stare down at it.
His eye are closed and he his breathing heavy while leaning against the wall as if he needs it to hold him up straight. It takes him a few moments to recover and when he opens his eyes again he looks relaxed and satisfied. That is until his gaze meets mine and guilt starts to paint his features. I instantly have this irrational need to reassure him.
“It’s okay… I didn’t mind.” I force a smile, but I know he can see right through it.
“I didn't plan this when I brought you up here. It wasn’t my intention...I mean...” I can tell he’s sincere and means every word he says. He rinses us off one more time, never loosening his hold on me. I’m more than thankful for it because I really don’t think I could have stood up for much longer on my own. He has been carrying most of my weight this entire time and I wonder how the hell he’s still doing it. Then again if I looked like him I’m sure I could carry anything and everything around. We get out together, and he releases me for a second to grab a towel.
He drys me off from head to toe before he wraps my body in a large towle and my hair in a smaller one. The way he does it with such ease has my mind kicking into overdrive. It seems like he has done this before and the thought of Ivan giving another women a shower or bath like this has a lot of unwanted feelings settling into my gut. Curiosity gets the better of me and though I know I shouldn't I ask anyway.
“Do you do this a lot? I'm only asking because it seems like you know what you are doing wrapping up my long hair in that towel.”
“I haven't done this in a very long time, and I don't typically.” Sadness coats his words, and I'm relieved at his confession, and again I don't understand why. It’s not like he really cares about me. Not in a sense that he cares what will happen to me after I leave this place. “This room is where I go to escape the madness of this place.”
He wraps a towel around himself before leading me to his bedroom. Once there, he deposits me onto his bed. It’s so soft underneath my legs, all I want to do is curl up and go to sleep on it.
Dread overcomes me like a wave when I remember what he said… I can shower and then I’m going back in the cell. I’ve been trying not to think about it and I succeeded, but now that I remember what’s going to happen I’m on the verge of crying.
This is only a short vacation from my new reality. He is going to bring me back downstairs and leave me and then I might never see him again. My eyes burn with unshed tears. I don’t know why but I don’t want to cry in front of him right now. I watch him dig through his dresser grabbing a few items throwing them onto the bedside me.
He turns back around to face me and I try to hide that I am on the verge of crying but of course he sees the unshed tears in my eyes.
“I told you… I can let you take a shower but you have to go back to the cell now.”
“I know. I just hate it down there. I'm so cold... and alone and I worry about someone coming in to hurt me all the time.”
Ivan gives me a conflicted look and I know I should be thankful for a shower and I am, but I don't want to be down there. I don't want to be away from him.
“I’ll give you something warmer to wear and like I said before, they won’t come back, they might be dumb but they know how to follow orders… they won’t disobey me.” His gaze flickers over my half naked body like he might be tempted to want something more from me.
“I… that's all I can and will do for you. No one is going to mess with you while you’re here.” He doesn’t apologize and I don't expect him too. I just need to stop hoping for a miracle and realize that soon I’ll be nothing but some rich man’s toy. This is my new life...
“Here, put these on.” He points at the clothes beside me. A thick grey sweatshirt that looks to be three times to big and a matching pair of sweatpants, with a black pair of boxers.
“Do you have some paper towel?” I feel my cheeks heat with embarrassment as soon as I ask the question. I'll take the embarrassment over bleeding all over myself.
“Yeah, why?” He ask as I watch him get dressed. His movements are effortless.
“For my… you know… period.” I don’t know what I’m more embarrassed about, talking about my period or the fact that I just watched him get dressed.
He doesn’t seem to be embarrassed about either thing and walks out of the room leaving me alone for few moments. I immediately start to panic.
Until this moment I thought I just didn’t want him to leave me in the cell by myself but now I realize I don't want him to leave me alone at all. I just want to be with him, near him. Maybe it's the constant being alone that scares me, or something else I don't really know but the realization hits me hard because I know staying with him is never going to happen.
He comes back and hands me a roll of paper towels. I take it and pick up the clothes he’s laid out for me. “Can I do this in your bathroom?”
“Go ahead,” he nods toward the bathroom and I get up and walk into the bathroom. I close the door behind me but don’t lock it. I don’t see the point. If he wants to come in here I don't think the flimsy wooden door would stop him even if it was locked. That and if he wanted to hurt me he already would've. I unwrap my towel and hang it on a hook before I unroll a few pieces of the paper towel and fold it into a pad.
I put it between my legs and pull the boxers on. I have to roll them up about ten time before they stay on but this is much better than what I had before. I pick the bloody underwear up off the floor cringing at the sight of them before tossing them into the waste basket under the sink.
Then I pull on the oversized sweatpants and sweatshirt enjoying how theavy the thick material rests on my skin.
When I step back out moments later Ivan is standing right in front of the door. He gives me a quick once-over and hands me a pair of socks. His face is void of all emotions and its like hes slipped a mask on.
“Thank you.” I sit back down on the bed and pull them on. The socks, just like everything else are way too big on me, but I couldn’t care less, warmth is all that matters right now. Ivan is standing a few feet away just watching me.
“It’s time to go back downstairs.” I nod, trying to be brave but on the inside I am so scared all I want to do is curl up in a ball and cry my eyes out.
We walk to the door together, every step I take adds a two pound rock to the contents of my stomach. Everything inside of me screaming to beg and plead with him to stay.
“I’m going to carry you again. Keep your eyes closes,” he warns before he bends down and picks me up just like before. I close my eyes and lean into him, determined to enjoy every last second of this.
Chapter Five
Ivan
I place her back on the filthy mattress in her cell even though every fiber in my body doesn’t want to. The thought of leaving her down her literally makes my chest hurt. She doesn't say anything but her eyes tell me enough. She is begging me to take her back upstairs without a single word.
Beside the first time I’ve seen her she hasn’t ask me to let her go again, which makes this only worse. All she wants is for me to stay with her and if it wasn’t for
the way she clings onto me, I wouldn’t even believe her.
How can she possible feel safe with me?
Shaking my head I turn around and walk out the door. A quiet sob fills the room and I can feel my heart crack wide open. Pushing through the expanding pain in my chest I step out and shut the door behind me. I start walking away thinking that I just need to get away and the need for her will fade. Instead, it gets stronger like an invisible force pulling me backward and I have to force my legs to move up the stairs.
Back at my apartment, I grab my jacket and my phone before I head back out. I need to get away from this place for a few hours to clear my head. It takes me ten minutes to walk through the heavily guarded compound and get to my car. It takes me another five minutes to make it through all the gates surrounding the building.
The whole time I can only think about one thing. The petite women I left curled up on the mattress in that cell and that I could never get her out of here unnoticed.
This place has more security than a level five prison. The only way she is going to make it out of here is with a collar and a price tag around her neck, or in a body bag but I refuse to let that happen.
That thought has me gripping onto the leather wrapped steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turn white. I drive around aimlessly for a long time before I end up in front of some bar. I have every intention of getting so drunk that I forget my own name but after I down my second glass of whisky I realise that I can’t bring myself to do it. I can’t sit here and drink my sorrows away while she is scared and alone in that basement.
I throw some cash on the bartop and walk back out to my car where I pass a couple on the way. They are holding hands and she is leaning into him while giggling at something he said. And just like that I find myself longing for something I have never wanted before… something I can never have, at least not with her.