Nearly Mended

by Devon Ashley

  My face cringed at that. “I figured you’d want your privacy. You kept Veronica in a separate room.” And the thought of sleeping side-by-side with him made me sick.

  “One, I didn’t want to share my bed with Veronica like I do with you. And two, we both know she would’ve never questioned her station. You, however, have a long way to go before I’ll trust you off by yourself.”

  “What’s to trust? Don’t all these doors lock using your thumbprint? I couldn’t get out even if I wanted to.”

  As we paused outside the master door, he brought his face incredibly close to mine. “And do you want to get out?”

  “No,” I lied within a whisper.

  “No?” he parroted, eyeing me like he knew I was so obviously lying. We both knew I was. And it made me wonder if he only asked these types of questions to see if he could learn to discern the difference between my truths and lies. God, I hoped I didn’t have a tell.

  The way he kept staring at me so closely unnerved me. I felt myself cowering backward, but I had nowhere to really go.

  “Are you afraid of me, Natalie?”

  “Yes,” I admitted. “I don’t want you to hurt me.”

  Apparently, that was the right answer, because his face softened. Reaching out to activate the door, he replied, “Just do what I ask, and I’ll never have to.”

  I didn’t like being led through this room. Besides the television, there wasn’t anything for him to do but engage in sexual acts with me that I didn’t want to participate in. He didn’t stop at the bed though, taking me all the way to the corner door, having it slide into the wall and pulling me into the bathroom. It was more long than wide. Closet straight ahead. Double sinks with ample counter space lined the right side, garden Jacuzzi tub across from it, with a tiled shower entrance on the far left and door to the bathroom on the far right. Like the rest of his house, the colors were neutral – beige and light and dark browns.

  Leading me into the closet with no door, my heart began to sink. Yeah, two thirds of the closet was definitely his, filled with crisp shirts, ironed pants and tailored suits, but a small portion of it was clearly meant for me. Unfortunately, jeans, t-shirts and sneakers weren’t on the approved clothing list, but floor length gowns and too-short cocktail dresses were. But what scared me the most also gave me the biggest hope. About five pairs of heels lined up along the top shelf. He’d put them up out of reach where I couldn’t grab them, but shoes and gowns meant he planned on taking me out at some point.

  Suddenly, earning his trust on an epically fast scale seemed my top priority. Because after seeing this house, I wasn’t going anywhere otherwise. My only chance of escape was running once he had me out for the night – but where he’d take me I was afraid to ask.

  “You have thirty minutes to shower, shave, and wash and dry your hair. And don’t get creative with the razor. If you kill yourself, I’ll have to replace you with your sister.” He didn’t care that my mouth just dropped, nor did I doubt he meant every word of that threat. “When you’re ready to come out, I want you dressed in something from the middle drawer.” He motioned toward the three built-in drawers beside the hanging gowns, then disappeared into the bedroom. Sadly, he didn’t close the bathroom door behind him, and I doubt he even left the bedroom, considering this was my first time in here.

  Shave? Any hopes of him leaving me alone for my first night just got smacked in the face by one of those damn unbreakable windows. I noted the time on the wall clock, afraid he was very serious about my time limit. Thirty minutes until he was going to really screw with me.

  The shower was at the end of the large bathroom, and of course, completely lacked a door. But at least it wrapped around in a U-shape, so there was some privacy – assuming he didn’t have a hidden camera in there. Which I was pretty sure he did. He was the king of hidden cameras last time, and it made me realize for the first time that the one in the bedroom was so obviously not hidden. Too tired to even think of the logic behind it, I pulled the slip over my head and stepped into the streaming water. Similar to the shower I had, this one had two options. A normal shower head or the use of six pockets that circled the top of the entire rectangular shower area to mist down below.

  I figured I had a good fifteen minutes in here before I needed to get out and begin drying my hair. I washed and shaved quickly, giving myself as much time as possible to crouch in the mist and prepare myself for what was about to happen. I couldn’t help but cry. Finally, the direness of my situation hit me now, and I knew what I was up against. I was in the middle of nowhere, pantyless, with a man who went above and beyond to trap me within his exterior walls.

  I hadn’t had any time to think about Nick and whether or not he was left unharmed, and sadly, I still didn’t have time to think on it. I was going to have to sleep with Zander tonight. And I had to make it as believable as possible that I was giving in, that I was accepting my fate, that this new life was the one I was meant to have from here on out. It was the only way he’d ever trust me enough to take me out at some point, to earn a little free will, to give myself the chance to escape.

  Jesus, it could take fucking years for that to happen!

  How was I ever going to let him touch me without breaking down and crying?

  I just wanted to scream and scream and scream! I tried to expel every tear that I had so I’d have nothing left the moment he moved in on me. I was going to have to force myself not to squirm when he touched me, or show disgust when he kissed me. God, I was going to have to kiss him back. Eagerly. I was going to have please him, make him want me ten times over, which would only lead himself into doing so.

  I was on the verge of throwing up my soup, my insides knotting and yanking in directions that pierced me with sharp pains. Taking in several deep breaths, I stood and switched the water back to the shower head, drenching my face once more, trying to wipe away the fact that my eyes were red from crying. I turned off the water and allowed myself to drip-dry for a moment.

  I’m not going to cry anymore. I inhaled a deep breath. He can have my fucking body, but nothing else. Another deep breath. I will find a way to get back home to Nick. To my family. One last breath, then I exited the shower, grabbing one of the hanging towels at the end. I forced myself to at least appear confident, because I knew he could be watching. Hell, he may’ve already witnessed my breakdown in the shower, but that was all he was going to get.

  I willed the hair dryer to work faster, my eyes glued to the clock as my time clicked down to practically nothing. It seemed I spent longer in the shower than I had planned. On the bright side – no, fuck that. There was no bright side to any of this. On the other side, I was so worried about getting finished within his time frame that none of it was spent fixating on what was going to happen once I got out there.

  Finally done, I hurried back to the middle drawer. Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me. Out of curiosity, I opened the top drawer. It was filled with simple gowns like the one I woke up in. Then I opened the bottom drawer. And groaned. Nope. That was the drawer that needed to be labeled you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I didn’t bother to dig through it, but I saw enough the moment I spotted garters and stockings and skimpy tops that didn’t always cover the nipple.

  I slammed the bottom drawer shut. Suddenly the middle drawer wasn’t looking so bad. Yeah, it was filled with a lot of see-through material, but at least most of the pieces were long enough to cover up my ass – even if barely. There was one that was solid silk instead of mesh or barely there lace, but it slit down both sides beginning at my waist. But at least my chest wouldn’t be see-through like all the others.

  I had just pulled it out when I paused. I groaned inwardly, and forced myself to kneel back down. The blue silk was the safest piece in here, and he was totally expecting me to wear it. I was chastising myself for even thinking it, but I needed to prove as quickly as possible that I wanted this, that I wanted him, and that I was here to please him. He was going to force sex on me either
way. And I was going to have to pretend to be okay with it. Wearing one of the more scandalous pieces would prove to him that I was trying to be what he wanted me to be.

  I closed my eyes and swallowed hard, trying to ease the anxiety within. He was going to force himself on me no matter the slip. By the time I released my death grip on the silk, it was a fistful of wrinkles. I dug through the drawer again, this time pulling out a fitted mesh chemise that had a deep V design of lace around the chest. It was mostly see-through, but at least it wrapped all the way around without slits and covered my ass. But just like before, there wasn’t a single pair of underwear in the drawer. What few I saw were skimpy and only available in the third drawer, and I sure as hell wasn’t going dipping in there until I had to.

  I slipped on the light red chemise and completely avoided looking at myself in the mirror. Whatever I looked like, I didn’t want to know. As I made my way out, I noticed I was two minutes over. Hopefully he didn’t check the clock for the exact minute as he left.

  Even though I was over the time limit, I paused before reaching the door. My heart was already racing, panicking more and more. I tried to calm myself by making the quietest shushing sound between by teeth. Don’t cry. Think of Nick and getting back to him. Don’t cry! Don’t give him that part of you, too.

  He could have the body. But nothing else.

  Swallowing hard, I force my feet forward. The bedroom was dimmer than before, though the ceiling light seemed the same. Maybe that window on the forest floor had let in more light earlier than I thought. Zander was lounging in the chaise in the far corner, his elbows hitched up on the arm rests. It was incredibly odd to see him coolly leaning back, holding up a novel as he read. It almost seemed normal. Especially with the reading glasses he was wearing. It took him a second, but his head finally tilted to see past his book, realizing I had emerged from the bathroom. For a moment, he just kind of stared, then lowered his book and calmly said, “Come here.”

  Even with the repeated pep talk about showing him I was into this, my arms immediately crossed protectively around my chest. Pointless, really. He’d seen me naked plenty of times, especially when he kept me sedated – my clothes weren’t changing themselves all those times. As I approached, he removed his glasses and narrowed his eyes at me. Studying me. The silence was killing me.

  Clearly suspicious, his eyes scanned downward at my chemise. He sighed, then tossed the book and glasses to the floor. Patting his thigh, he motioned silently for me to climb on. God I wished this room was even dimmer. This was never going to be easy per se, but letting him do these things in the dark would’ve made it less… I don’t know. Just less.

  I awkwardly climbed on, not wanting to touch him with my hands, stretching my legs so they surrounded his thighs and not his hips. I was going to be forced onto that particular spot soon enough. My lips sucking in on themselves, I cowardly kept my eyes south of his neck line. Unfortunately, it left me staring at his sculpted pecks and abdomen, because all he was wearing was a pair of loose cotton drawstring pants. More muscles making their power known to me.

  The silence between us seemed infinite.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  Confused, I answered, “I don’t understand.”

  He took another exaggerated breath, but I waited him out. “A few days ago you pulled a knife on me.”

  “You had a gun,” I rebutted surprisingly, my eyes even looking up to challenge. Hell, I would’ve pulled the knife regardless. That was why he was pushing the point.

  He ignored me and continued with, “You were seeking a way others could track you when I came for you. Now all of a sudden you’re staying put in bindings you could easily get out of, obeying my every command and deliberately wearing something more provocative than you should feel comfortable wearing. If I didn’t know any better, I’d probably think you wanted me to screw you senseless.” My gaze fell to my thighs, where his hand was fingering the bottom of my chemise. His other hand left the arm rest to tilt my chin back up his way. “But we both know you don’t. So tell me what you’re up to, because you’re not the same Natalie who left my care last June. And keep in mind I’m pretty good at spotting the lies.”

  Fuck me, what the hell was wrong with him? I was used to him being manipulative and ruthless. I didn’t know how to deal with vulnerable, which is how he was coming off right now. He seemed tired, even compassionate given the circumstances. What the hell was I supposed to do with that? I hated him, but it was like I needed him to be the biggest, ruthless asshole ever created in order to hate him without a sliver of doubt.

  I shivered and rubbed my arms for warmth as a distraction. Several times I opened my mouth to try to say something. And several times I failed, until finally I settled on, “You said you wouldn’t hurt me, if I…” I closed my eyes and looked off to the side, scratching my teeth across my bottom lip. “…if I went along with it.” My arms wrapped even more tightly around me as my gaze returned to staring at his chest. “We both know I’m not exactly here by my own free will.” Every so softly, I added, “But I’m trying.” It pained me to say that, and I let him see my vulnerability, figuring I should sell it as much as possible. “I’m trying to obey you because I don’t want to be cut or beaten anymore.” A few of those damn tears fled my eyes, and I practically choked on the words, “I mean, what else am I supposed to do?”

  I left the tears alone. I decided to let him see how much this upset me, because I needed him to believe I was genuine and on my way towards acceptance and submission, and that I could possibly learn to love him with time like he claimed I would. But I wasn’t prepared for the way he gingerly reached out to hold my face and sweep the tears away with his thumbs. Or how he softly looked at me before bringing his lips to mine. He was supposed to treat me the same way he did before – like I was nothing more than a toy there for his own enjoyment until he got bored and discovered a new way to torment me. Not…this. This was a whole new game and I didn’t know the rules yet. And it had to be a game, right? No way this cruel man was capable of being gentle and vulnerable naturally.

  His lips felt weird against mine. Confusing. They weren’t supposed to be warm and soft. They felt like they were actually trying to caress mine as they deepened with each kiss. Like he actually felt the passion he was trying to convey. His hands slid their way down, settling farther down than I would’ve liked. In fact, he grabbed the bottom of my bare ass and lifted, shoving my opened legs over his hips. As his hands drifted to my lower back, he gathered the mesh, pulling it higher so there was nothing between our pressed lower bodies than his cotton pants.

  Against my best judgment, I forced my hands to touch his body, curling over his shoulders, but that was all I could get them to do. His lips released mine from servitude and moved down my throat. I found myself tilting my neck to stare at the ceiling, trying to at least not see what he was physically doing to me. The horrible part was that I couldn’t even afford to express my disgust even then, because he most likely had a damn camera focused in on us.

  One hand pushed against my lower back, making me rock with his hips, as the other reached over to pull my arm down, taking the strap of my chemise with it. As I allowed him to cup my breast without resistance, my jaw strained to hide the uneasy feeling that spread throughout my insides – or at least the upper part of my body. The fucking lower part of me seemed to like what he was doing, and it trembled as his hand left my backside to dig inside his pants and pull himself out.

  I released an uneasy moan as his fingers invaded between my legs, and my head bent to bury itself between his neck and shoulder. If he realized my moan was anything but jovial, he didn’t show it. Most likely, he didn’t give a shit either way since he was getting what he wanted. He pulled down the other side of my chemise and the material gathered around my waist. At least it kept me from seeing as he lifted me up and brought me down on him. I involuntarily moaned the same time he did.

  That was way too fucking easy for him. Ho
w the hell could my body not find this offensive? That all he had to do was touch me in a certain way and it was eager for him to come inside? My head was screaming at me for not fighting against this, parts of my insides so knotted I was nauseous. Every part but the one that mattered the most, and those fucking muscles were delighted to have him in there, thrusting his dick up and down as he occasionally groaned with pleasure.

  I hated that he eagerly rocked my body with his. I hated that he rolled me down on the chaise so his lips could take their sweet time caressing every part of my neck, breasts and hips. I hated that he even kissed my hydrangea tattoo just inside my left hip bone, which was one of Nick’s favorite spots. I hated that it wasn’t dark enough to cry. And I hated that he forced me to stare into his eyes while he rocked inside me. But even more, I hated that eventually, my traitorous body didn’t have to fake the sounds of satisfaction that came out of me while he did it all.

  A scratching, sweeping noise caught my attention, forcing my crusty eyelids open for just a second. It was too dark to see anything, so I gave up trying to lift my head, which felt heavy anyway. It all seemed déjà vu, like I had done this repeatedly, but it was so hazy. My entire upper body flinched when my eyelids lit up bright orange, making me pinch them even harder. I tried to swallow but my mouth and throat were so dry it seemed impossible.

  Footsteps shuffled. Hands fumbled with my left hand.

  Why couldn’t I fucking move?!

  “You sure you don’t want to sell him?” a man asked.

  “We’ve been over this,” a second male voice answered with a clipped tone.

  My hand ached, then burned with fiery pain as something was ripped out and away from it. I screamed internally but merely whimpered aloud. “I don’t know why you have him. Such a waste, really.” Hands moved to my side and I felt another rip of pain against my skin. This time I got an actual howl out, but I still couldn’t move to fight the person off. My eyes didn’t even want to lift open again, barely managing a blurry peek.