by Devon Ashley
That was disgusting. And he was going to come in here and do it again. But next time he’d go much further. What kind of fucked up person did this to another? I let out a long yell, releasing some of my damn frustration. I was a six-foot-three, twenty-two year old fit guy who was strapped down to be a fucking pleasure toy! I screamed again, jerking at all the restraints to no avail. I finally gave up and closed my eyes off to the dimness. I wished I could just fall into deep sleep.
Shit. I heard a bump down the hall, so I knew he was headed back. I kept my eyes closed, not wanting to witness anything more. It was bad enough my ears had to hear and my body had to feel. I did not need the fucking visual to play back the rest of my life.
A hand gripped the side of my thigh and turned me quickly. A jab of pain made me jerk. He fucking stabbed me with something! “What the fuck was that?!” I yelled as I watched him pull the needle out of my ass just as quickly as it went in and shot me up with something I knew would screw me.
“Just a little something to help you relax.” His hand reached out and condescendingly patted my cheek twice. “I’ll be back once you’re more compliant.”
As he left, I found myself tugging on my restraints all over again, feeling the intense fire lick across my skin. Compliant wasn’t in my list of command functions, but unfortunately, my body was becoming more drowsy by the second.
My head felt funny. Heavy. Flooded. My limbs lazy. My eyes didn’t want to open. They wanted me to go back to sleep since it clearly wasn’t time to wake up yet. But there was…a noise. It awakened something in me. Curiosity. Because it sounded like me. Like I was moaning. But I wasn’t moaning right now. Or at least I didn’t think I was. Something was just wrong about it all.
Reluctantly, my lids opened and allowed my eyes a moment to adjust and scan. The room was dim. There was still moaning. One of my bound hands lie atop my chest. I glanced down as I heard the moan again. No way that came from me. But it sounded like me.
Upon further inspection, I was on the rug. Wasn’t I just in bed?
More moaning. Thinking I finally deciphered where the source was coming from, my eyes looked up and over. Every part of my body went fucking numb. I was on the TV. Not live, but from when I was still on the bed. A fire ignited in my chest, flames flickering, heat singeing my lungs as I inhaled sharply again and again. I was naked on that screen. He was naked. In bed with me. For a room this dim, way too many details were showing up on that show that had to be a work of fiction. Digitally altered. Something!
I was sprawled out on the flat of my back, his body crouched over my lower half, head hovering over my pelvic region, moving about in a way that made my insides sour. And my television self was just lying there fucking moaning while I let him suck me off! Worse, my hands and legs were completely unbound and doing nothing to shove him off! Nothing! In fact, one hand was flexing across the back of his damn head, like I was encouraging him to take me deeper.
My anger gave a ruffled sound to my exhalation.
“Keep watching.” My head shot left. He was on the bed, hitched up on his elbow, lying on his side, watching the TV like I was. “My favorite part’s coming up.”
My eyes tightened with anger and disgust. I wanted nothing more than to break free of these chains and use them to whip the shit out of him. But at the same time, my damn eyes couldn’t help but look back to that horrible reality show. Those sounds were reserved for Megan but my fucking drugged ass was making them for him.
It didn’t take long to see what he was referring to. My body finally came to life, but it wasn’t to shove him off me. My mouth fell open and I watched in horror as I actually reached out for him with both arms. Like I wanted to pull him upward, but there was no strength to my Jell-O arms.
But that asshole followed my lead anyway. I silently groaned and dug my fists into my temples. He was climbing up my body, his mouth making contact all the way until… I covered my eyes with my palms, repeating the word no inside my head. I could’ve stayed buried there forever, but I was pretty sure that asshole increased the volume button. My moans were much louder now, and my breaths had sound now, and they were far too fast to be anything but aroused. I feared the peek I knew I’d regret.
Oh, fuck! He was over me completely now, his mouth furiously roughing up my neck as his left hand grasped the opposite side of my head, repeatedly fisting my hair. The way his body rocked over mine while he did it made me roll over and gag. Nothing came up though, so I was forced to keep enduring the nauseous fury raging inside my stomach.
“Don’t be such a pussy. You liked it.”
“Is that why I’m trying to throw up right now?” I snarled back.
The fucking shithead laughed. “No, that bullshit mentality that only a woman should please you is what’s making you do that. Once I made your brain take a nap, you let go of all that stupid inhibition and enjoyed yourself freely. I mean, look at you.” Horribly, my eyes followed that suggestion. God, my right hand had somehow found the energy to latch on to his ass, as if to encourage the way his hips were circling mine.
Just fucking shoot me now.
“It gets even better by the way.”
I’ll bet. I really wished my eyes and ears would close me off, but I just kept peeking. It was like a damn cavity. You didn’t want to cause yourself the pain, but you continually sucked air through it just to see if it still hurt. The TV was my fucking cavity.
“Just turn the damn thing off already!”
Laughter was my answer. Last thing I saw our damn mouths were kissing – hungrily – and hell if mine weren’t just as eager. We were side to side, my fucking arms and legs wrapped around him as much as his were me. Way too much motion going on. I’d had enough. I didn’t want to see if it went any further. It fucking burned inside. I heard the way our groans intensified, heard the way our breaths hitched and panted. And it didn’t help that he was on the bed making approval noises over whatever he was watching us do.
“Well,” he said, my head jerking up as I heard my chains automatically slacking from the wall. He was sitting up against the headboard now, still attuned with my shame on screen. “Since you’re not watching anyways, get up here and do your job then.”
I didn’t know which was worse. Being responsible for the groans coming off him while I was forced to do what he asked while we were both horribly naked, or hearing myself get off in the background with as much intensity as he did the exact same thing to me on screen.
Sleep wanted to claim me again, but I fought my eyes for the right to open. It felt like I’d been sleeping forever. I didn’t want to anymore. I was lying on my stomach, tiny whimpers coating each exhalation. There was pain behind my eyes and down my back, and I groaned miserably when I remembered why.
“Does it hurt?” his voice asked from far away. I didn’t look, but judging by the pocket light in the corner, I assumed he was in the chaise, probably reading that book again.
“Yes,” I mumbled with length. But given what he did to me, probably not as much as it should right now. I heard his book drop to the floor. My eyes were exceptionally slow at reopening, and only did once I felt the dip beside me. The back of his hand gently graced my cheek. Then it picked up and set down on my back, which I just realized was bare. I was naked again, the sheet covering me up as far as my hips.
“I’m sorry,” he said. He actually looked a little pained as he gently traced my back in a line. Lash line, perhaps?
“Why did you do it?” I asked, trying my hardest to sound absolutely pathetic, hoping to guilt him more than his face was already showing. He deserved at least that.
“I didn’t want to. But I had already threatened to hurt you if he stepped out of line. I couldn’t go back on my word.”
Because he lived by his word.
“You didn’t have to whip me.” He turned to meet my gaze but didn’t offer any condolences. “Am I marked?”
“I didn’t strike you hard enough to break the skin. But yes, you’re bruised where
the leather hit.”
It was too difficult to contemplate rolling my eyes, so I merely muttered, “I suppose you could just laser it out of me if I’m scarred.”
He made a tiny, yet deep noise in his throat. “You won’t scar. And I struck your lower back each time to minimize the injured area.” He leaned over and gently kissed the back of my shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Natalie,” he repeated, more softly this time, continuing with the kisses. “I never wanted to hurt you like this.”
I groaned, because it reminded me of why I had to be beaten for something I had no control of. “What about Nick?”
“What about him?” he asked, his voice booming with venom.
“What happened to him? Did you hurt him too?”
Another noise from the back of his throat. “I feel he’s rather enjoyed his time here as of late.”
There was a hidden meaning in there somewhere, but I didn’t have the brain capacity to figure it out right now. Or I was scared to. “Can I see him?”
“Sorry, love,” he answered softly, resuming the gently tracing, this time on my scalp, making me sleepy. “He’s indisposed at the moment. He’s been quite the cranky brute lately, so I’ve been dosing him with sort of a happy cocktail to lift his spirits. But don’t worry. I’ll be going in there in a bit to check up on him again. I’ll make sure the happy part of that cocktail doesn’t go to waste.”
“What?” I asked confusedly.
Even his laughter was soft. He leaned over and whispered, “Sshhh. Just go back to sleep and rest. Nick and I can manage one more day without you.”
Why was everything so fucking hazy all the time now? How many times had he shot me up? I swear to God, every time I turned around I lost another day. Or did I? I couldn’t keep track anymore. I had the window, but I couldn’t ever remember whether it was light or dark out when I fell asleep last. It all seemed to run together now.
He loved showing me that first video of us rubbing our naked bodies together, but he hadn’t shown anything since. How long had it been since the first time? God, he shoved himself on me three times a day. If he was drugging me and doing that just as often… Why couldn’t I remember? And fuck. Why did I want to remember?
I was on the bed again. I’d woken up here several times now, dazed and confused, my hands strapped down. And fucking butt naked. Not even a sheet to cover up with. My mouth was really dry. Stale. Cottony. I wanted to swallow and hydrate, but at the same time, I wanted it to remain tasting like ass for the next time he forced his mouth on mine.
Was this what it was like for Megan in that basement? Drugged, dazed. Knowing something happened to you while you were asleep but not quite sure of the details? Like a thought on the tip of your tongue that never found words. I could tell by the fact that my cock seemed happy that’d he’d been screwing with me again. Just not actually screwing. That I could tell hadn’t happened yet, and I swear to God if it ever did… Bastard. Would. Die. He was going to anyway after everything he’d done to Megan. I was going to make sure of it.
Not again. I heard the beep before the door slid open. I’d fake sleeping, but with the camera aimed my way, there was no point. “Don’t you ever get tired or sleep or fucking go to work?” I snapped before he could even cross the threshold.
“My, my, my,” he teased, almost singing a tune. “Looks like someone might need me to relieve some more tension for him.”
“Fuck off,” I immediately barked.
“You know, Natalie used to say that kind of thing to me before too.” He leaned over the bed, his hand reaching down to encircle one of two spheres I wished he’d forget about. I tried not to cringe because he always fed off it. “But then she realized how much it turned me on and that she always ended up fucked.”
“Well, lucky for me you don’t like to fuck men.”
“True.” His hand fell away. “But there are plenty of other things we can do.” He pulled another syringe and stabbed my ass. I hissed, because whatever he gave me this time actually stung.
“What was that?”
“Something to make you sleep for real. As much as I’ve enjoyed punishing you by making you squirm and feel disgusted for being sexually eager with a man, Natalie woke up yesterday. Hopefully she’ll be as much fun to screw with moving forward as you’ve been.”
I wanted to tell him so many things, so many ways he could go fuck himself, but my mind was jumbling fast. My eyes were losing the battle to stay open as numbness shot through my limbs and engulfed my head. I was mere seconds from drifting off, and all I could think of were all the things he could do to her while he kept us apart.
I never realized before how the air itself could have an echo. That there were hidden sounds I just didn’t hear until this moment, locked away in a silent house, my ears settled beneath the water, taking in a cacophony of intense vibrations and melodic waves. It was better than the dead silence above the water line. Here I was distracted, my head so heavy with pressure that I couldn’t focus on reality as easily, couldn’t focus on what my life had become.
I was a goddamn pleasure slave. I couldn’t even call myself a sex slave anymore. Because it wasn’t just sex that he took from me. He took pleasure in trapping me, manipulating me, enticing me. He made me feel things I was ashamed to admit even to myself. The things he did to me…they aroused me, no matter how much I fought them.
And I was stuck here. I knew that now. I think I’d always known that. Third times the charm. He was off the radar, staying clear of anyone in the business to better hide from authorities. We were in the middle of nowhere, so even if I managed to get outside this house, he had a damn tracker in me, so I’d never even find a road before he caught me again.
I was his now.
And all I could think was how much I needed to get Nick out of here. Zander didn’t really want him – I could convince him we were better off without him. Nick could still move forward in life. I knew he’d hate me for getting him pushed away, because he was under this delusion that he could protect me, save me. But I wanted to do the same for him. And out of the two of us, he was the only one who had a chance of getting out of here. Being strapped down and drugged every day of your life was no way to live. Trust me, I know.
So that was my new goal now. Not an escape for me, but for Nick. To get close to Zander in a way that would convince him we only needed each other. I could make that sacrifice. Zander was getting what he wanted from me anyway. I could do it. Let go, that was. I could stop allowing myself to fight, stop trying to reiterate in my head what he truly was and had done to me. I could let his touch arouse me from the start, like it did eventually anyway. I could be his, even though I’d never love him, never truly want him. I could do it all for the one I did love, for who I truly did belong to.
I could shut myself down and let it happen.
And I could start today. Because even one more day that Nick was drugged and chained in that bedroom was one too many. Because Nick was the kind of guy who would never stop fighting. He’d never make it here. Zander probably slowed down his rebellion by beating on me, but it would only inhibit his will to save me for only so long. He needed to be gone before that need seeped its way back into him.
A tightness settled in over my chest, making my muscles ache, making it hard to breathe. This bath suddenly didn’t feel so relaxing. I pulled the plug and stepped out, walking across the bathroom for the towel I forgot to grab earlier. I didn’t bother trying to be modest and cover myself up. There was no point. He’d seen everything a hundred times over, had videos of me in far more seductive moments, so I doubt he got a cheap thrill watching me walk across a room anymore. Besides, why should I cower into myself and cover up the pale, shimmering lines that still marked my chest in a way? The way he looked at them sometimes, and the way he’d tried to correct them with laser surgery, proved a part of him regretting scarring me like this.
Let him see them. Let him see the green and yellow splotches that still lined my lower back. He was keeping me me
dicated with pain killers because he felt guilt. Maybe I could use that guilt against him. Play with his emotions the way he’d been playing with mine.
I dried and slid on a purple slip from the top drawer. I couldn’t go out there in anything more. I wanted to make him realize I was ready to move forward, but I didn’t want to be completely obvious about it.
He wasn’t in the bedroom when I stepped out of the bathroom, but that wasn’t really surprising. I went up to the main door and slammed my hand against the cold blockade three times, then called out his name. I didn’t shout, because he always seemed to know when I was stirring. I looked over to the camera. It was facing the middle of the room, which was where it was usually pointed, and I knew he could see me.
A minute later the door beeped and swished to the side. He stood before me in a t-shirt and pants. It was still weird seeing him in such plain clothing, when last time he was usually dressed in more business attire. I hadn’t seen him wear anything of the kind since he took me again, a clear sign that he really had retired from whatever he did before.
His hands went to the frame on each side, blocking me in, looking down at me with curiosity.
“Please. Can I come out there with you? I feel cooped up in here.” His eyes narrowed just a smidgen, thinking it over. I lifted the inside of my wrists in the air before him. Several days unconscious and unbound allowed them to heal. He must’ve been treating them for me. “You can bind me, I don’t care. I’d just like a break from this room for a bit.”
His left arm fell away and stepped back, motioning his head for me to walk ahead of him. Not finding it necessary to restrain me, I didn’t hesitate to obey and move into the hallway, refusing to acknowledge Nick’s closed door as I passed by. I could tell by the lack of natural light up ahead that it was early evening.