Stockholm Syndrome

by Brooks, JB

  “Let’s see if it’s working,” he said, and glided two fingers through her curls, into her cleft, testing her wetness, fingering her swollen, throbbing clit.

  “Your clit is huge, Evvy. You’re so aroused.” His questing fingers caressed the opening of her channel then slowly slid inside, sinking deep into her slippery passage. He added a third finger.

  “Your cunt is hungry and it wants to be filled. Next time I’ll use an inflatable dildo on you. It’ll stretch you much more than my cock, and we’ll find out what your limits are. But for today, I have other plans for you.” He paused, keeping her on tenterhooks of anticipation while he smoothly finger-fucked her.

  “I’m going to flog you.”

  Her knees gave out, from fear and approaching orgasm, and she swung helplessly from her wrists for a moment. He removed his fingers and steadied her.

  “It’s nothing to be afraid of, it doesn’t hurt. Look, I’ll show you the flogger.”

  He retrieved it from the bag and held it out. It had a short, pommeled handle, with the fall made from suede, many flat, supple strips of brown leather. She had a jacket with a fringe made of the same stuff. It wasn’t what she’d expected, but it didn’t look very threatening. She wondered what the point of it was, since it clearly wouldn’t deliver anything beyond a light sting.

  Mason was speaking to her again. “I want you to look up. Keep looking into the branches of the tree above your head. Look at the sunlight shining through it, and the leaves moving in the breeze. Don’t look down.”

  He moved around her, trailing the flogger across her skin in a soft caress. Then he started lashing it across her back and shoulders with light strokes. After the first few, he took up a rhythm, working up and down her back, to the cheeks of her ass, again and again. As she thought, the thongs prickled and tingled as they made contact with her skin, but didn’t cause real pain.

  She stared up into the tree, absently watching the play of light through the leaves, all her attention focused on the sting and drag, sting and drag of the flogger. Her skin began to feel hot and sensitized, as if a fever was burning just below the surface, and when the lashes curved unexpectedly under the cheeks of her ass toward her pussy, she groaned, although she wasn’t sure if she made the noise aloud.

  Then he switched to her front, plying the fronds of the flogger across her chest and stomach, over her exquisitely aroused breasts. The sensation of heat and fever intensified as he threw the strands over patches of untouched skin, and the branches above her all seemed to be moving in a unified pattern, unrelated to the wind.

  The flogger licked at the top of her pussy, flicking then retreating, then returning to make a deeper foray into the space between her thighs. She was burning hot, trying to anticipate where the next stroke would fall and simultaneously staring at the tree in wonder as the entire mass of its branches began to swirl. Or maybe she was the one swirling, twisting, spinning… She didn’t know. The sunlight formed long streaks interspersed with whirlpools of green.

  She could no longer tell if the lashes between her legs came from the back or the front, and her ass and pussy felt hot, swollen, and sensitive. Orgasm shimmered around her, as close as the air that caressed her naked skin, and as distant as the green and golden vortex that was her universe, but until he made it happen, she was trapped in a no man’s land of raw sensation.

  When the flogging ceased, she cried out her disappointment. She was dimly aware of Mason first releasing her ankles and then her hands, and his strong arms caught her, supported her, and lowered her to the blanket. He’d shed his clothes at some point, but she couldn’t have said when. She was still gazing up at the unearthly movement of the leaves when he parted her thighs and drove his cock into her. He pumped in and out with powerful thrusts, and her body tightened, quivering on the brink of a massive explosion.

  He leaned in close, picked up the chain that connected her nipple clamps with his teeth, and pulled back on it, stretching the tormented peaks. At the same time, he put his hand between their bodies, his thumb on her distended clit, and rubbed.

  The force of her orgasm rocked her like an earthquake. As the first wave slowed, he unclamped her nipples and tossed the chain aside. The intensity of the blood flow returning to the tortured buds sparked a second, deeper explosion in her cunt. This time, he couldn’t withstand the spasms that gripped his cock as she convulsed around him. With a hoarse cry, he released into her, filling her with his come, riding out the storm with her, and finally cradling her in his arms as she fainted.

  ***

  She slept for about an hour, which didn’t surprise Mason at all. Inexperienced subs were usually exhausted after a session, especially if they achieved the level of out-of-body arousal that he suspected Evelyn had.

  He held her close, like a precious treasure. She had exceeded his every expectation: her submission had been perfect, and her responsiveness awed him. If he lived to be a hundred, he would never forget how she looked tied naked to this tree, her skin flushed from the flogger, her body responding to his every touch like the most finely tuned instrument.

  When she woke, he could see that she’d come down from the high induced by the extreme sensations, but was still very tired. He didn’t want her to crash into a depression, an extreme reaction he’d witnessed from time to time, so he prepared food from the Esky and ate with her, asking her questions and distracting her until she finished a decent-sized meal. They didn’t talk about what had just happened between them. It was too immediate and intense. Instead he tried to learn more about her. As he asked probing questions, he could see her gathering her defenses again, regrouping after coming undone, and it pleased him, because it meant that she would be fine.

  She probably thought that he was merciless and unrelenting, which he usually was, of course, but this time it was for her own good.

  “Evvy, will you tell me about your marriage? You said you got married too young, and he cheated on you. I’d like to know more.”

  ***

  Evelyn considered his question, weighing his motives. As far as she could see, she wouldn’t give away any advantage by telling him a little more. If she were really developing an attachment to him, as she wanted him to believe, it would be natural for her to share more personal information with him. Besides, if she did, she could ask him something about himself and he’d be obliged to reciprocate.

  She shuddered. How could she be so calculating when she was so bone-wearily tired?

  “I got married when I was twenty-two.” She sighed. Talking about it was never easy. “I was young for my age. I’d lived with my parents all my life, and they were very protective. My father is wealthy—filthy rich, to be honest—so they could afford to indulge their protective urges. I never had a job. I went straight from school to university, and they paid for everything. I even had a driver to cart me around, and all my friends got their licenses long before I did.”

  Mason nodded. “I guess you didn’t have much motivation to rush out and get one?”

  “No. But at the time, I didn’t realize how dependent it made me, and what a golden cage I was living in. My friends all thought I was incredibly lucky, and so did I. I never questioned anything.”

  “Poor little rich girl?”

  “Yeah. I met Joel when I was twenty-one. He was the oldest son of one of my father’s good friends, and they’re also really rich. He was good-looking and smooth—slimy actually, but I didn’t realize that at the time—and he bowled me over. I fell in love with him in record time, and my parents were thrilled.”

  “How convenient,” murmured Mason ironically. “And here I thought arranged marriages were a thing of the past.”

  She grimaced. “I’m sure my father had several other candidates lined up in case I didn’t fall for Joel, but really, it was too easy. I’d never had a serious boyfriend, and I was so flattered by all his attention, I just…” She shook her head.

  “It’s okay, I understand.” He reached out and covered her hand with
his big warm one. “So you got a fiancé?”

  “Yeah, and once again, all my friends were envious. They thought Joel was the catch of the year, and I didn’t have a single doubt. I didn’t even get cold feet before the wedding! I finished my degree that year, and we got married the moment I was done. We had a huge wedding. It was even in the newspapers, although they described it more as two business empires joining forces. I remember being so upset that none of the articles even described my dress.”

  She smiled. It was easier to tell him about it than she’d expected, and he seemed to be sympathetic without pitying her.

  “Anyway, I was ecstatically happy. We had a month-long honeymoon planned. Although we were so rich, I hadn’t traveled that much, and it was the first time that I’d gone away without my parents. We toured around Europe. It was a pretty standard circuit, but I loved it. That’s when the travel bug bit me. I never wanted it to end.”

  Mason was still holding her hand. He squeezed her fingers gently.

  “What about the sex, Evvy? It was your honeymoon, but you don’t mention sex. You should have been in bed, not out sightseeing! Were you a virgin?”

  “Why is everything always about sex for you?” she cried. She tried to reclaim her hand, but he held on to her fingers and trapped her gaze with his pale-green stare.

  “Because you could spend a month with me in a tent in the backyard, and it would be the best holiday you ever had!”

  “Ooh, listen to Mr. Modesty!” she exclaimed. His husky words had her stomach flipping in a most disturbing manner, but there was no way she’d let him see how he affected her. He was horrendously arrogant already, and she’d pandered enough to his inflated ego for one day. Backyard indeed!

  “Come on, Evvy! Tell me about your first time. You were a virgin, weren’t you?” He trailed his fingers up her forearm, a featherlight touch, investigating the texture of her skin.

  He wasn’t letting it go. “It was very nice,” she said stiffly. “Obviously it was a bit sore, but he was very quick and then he held me until I felt better.”

  Mason bit out a harsh laugh. “That bad, hey? Oh dear, Evvy.” He sounded genuinely regretful as his fingers whispered back down her arm to the sensitive area over her inner wrist, gently rubbing away the residual marks left by the cuff. “You deserve so much better!”

  “Well, you’re right about that at least! By the time we’d been back a couple of months, he was out partying like a playboy. I hardly ever saw him, and when I did, he just wanted sex. We had no life together to speak of. I was miserable, bored, and lonely, and I couldn’t talk to anybody about it. I mean, what would they think? I caught the man of the year, and I had the wedding of the year, and now I was complaining!” She took a deep, shuddering breath, surprised at her sudden outburst.

  “Anyway, to cut a long story short, it went on for three years. Then I came home early one day and caught him in bed with two women. What a cliché!” She laughed bitterly. “It was a relief, in a way. We got divorced, and I started living my own life.”

  “Owen said your apartment is tiny.”

  “It’s fine for me. Why should I spend all my time looking after a big place when I live alone? I have better things to do.”

  “Like?”

  “Travel. And study. And I have my work at the university and I volunteer two nights a week at a family counseling center. Believe me, I’m busy!”

  “It sounds like it, but why don’t you just hire somebody to clean for you?”

  “Assistant lecturer jobs don’t pay that well and travel is expensive, you know, even if you’re just backpacking around.” God, he asked a lot of questions. Just wait ’til it was her turn!

  “What about your parents? Surely you don’t have to live on your salary from the university?”

  “I don’t have to, but I do. And before that I did waitressing and babysitting. I don’t take money from my parents anymore. When people fund you, they think they have the right to run your life, which is understandable I suppose, but I don’t want that ever again.”

  “That must cause some difficulties between you?”

  “Never with my mother… She understands. And my father’s had four years to get used to it. We’re okay now.”

  ***

  She was admirable, thought Mason as she dropped her gaze and looked down to where he still toyed with her hand. Her slender fingers felt good to hold. It couldn’t have been easy, first being hurt by her idiot husband and then giving up a life of wealth and privilege for the sake of her principles. He was unexpectedly moved by her story.

  He frowned. She was engaging his empathy, calling to life those other deeply buried instincts intrinsically related to his inclination for dominance and control, the need to possess and to protect.

  He stood up without releasing her hand, drawing her to her feet, their naked bodies close, and kissed her, deeply but gently. She accepted his kiss sweetly, sucking his tongue and wrapping her arms around his waist. He lifted his head and looked at her. The delicate skin under her eyes was tinged with purple. She needed to sleep, properly, in a warm, soft bed.

  “Let’s dress and go home,” he suggested quietly.

  ***

  Later that afternoon, while Evelyn was tucked up in bed and sound asleep, Mason went online on his computer, bought her a one-way air ticket from Rockhampton to Brisbane for the following morning, and printed the e-ticket. Then he went to his bedroom and took out the iPhone he’d bought for her. He’d had a data-retrieval job done on her old broken phone by a specialist in Rockhampton. The new phone was already set up with her original number, and he’d added himself to her contact list.

  Finally he retrieved an envelope from the concealed safe in his study. Inside was $7,000 in cash. He’d found her plane ticket and the booking confirmation from the tour company that organized the Kilimanjaro climb in her backpack, but he’d had to guess at her other expenses. He was sure that the $7,000 would cover everything, but hopefully not be so much more as to embarrass her.

  He arranged the items on his desk and stared at the little pile. It was painfully inadequate. He could never, ever, recompense her for what had happened, though he’d love to spend the rest of his life trying. He’d finally admitted to himself how strong his feelings for her were, and how hopeless.

  Chapter Seven

  She had won. He was letting her go.

  Evelyn’s hands were shaking as she counted out $5,600 and handed the rest back to Mason.

  “This covers it, thank you.”

  He didn’t take the money. “How can it be so little? Are you sure you’ve remembered everything?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. I only paid deposits for things like my hotel accommodation, so it wasn’t that much. I won’t take extra.” She placed the spare notes on the table between them.

  “What about the taxi from the airport to your apartment?”

  “Already included.”

  He left the money on the table.

  They were having dinner on the deck, a simple but delicious spaghetti Bolognese with freshly grated Parmesan cheese and a salad, but she had no appetite. She’d won.

  He’d woken her from her nap and asked her to join him for a meal. Then he’d told her that he was letting her go. She had the plane ticket in her pocket.

  “I got you a new phone.” He handed her an iPhone. “I’ve got an iPhone too. They’re good.”

  “Thank you.”

  She didn’t know what else to say. They picked at their food in silence for a few minutes then she put her knife and fork together and stood up. She couldn’t bear the tension between them for another moment.

  “I think I’ll go to bed now. I’m still really tired. Good night, Mason.”

  He got to his feet as well. “Evvy?”

  Her heart raced. Was he going to proposition her, or try to seduce her? She’d have to go along with it if he did, because she wasn’t free yet. He could still change his mind. “Yeah?”

  “We’ll leave for the ai
rport at seven tomorrow morning. Sleep well.”

  She wasn’t disappointed. She’d won.

  When she got to her room, she shut the door and leaned against it briefly.

  “Yeah!” she whispered. “Oh, yeah! I won! I’m going home.” She frowned. Now that she was alone, she expected to feel triumphant, ecstatic, excited—but she didn’t. She tried a bit of air punching, but it felt forced and unnatural. Tears pricked her eyes. Maybe it was too soon to celebrate. She’d only be truly free when the plane took off tomorrow, with her in it.

  And there was another problem. It was very important that he should know the truth. She still had every intention of going to the police and laying charges against him for rape and kidnapping. He’d derailed her life, frightened her, and put her in a situation where she’d been forced to do things that she would never normally have done in order to get away from him, and those things had changed her. She would never again be the same person she’d been before Mason Brady had crossed her path. It wasn’t fair that he should get away with that.

  She contemplated calling triple zero right away—she had a working phone now—but the thought of being present when the police came for Mason, and having to face George and Edna when they took him away, was too much. She wanted to be safely in Brisbane when that happened.

  She summoned up her hurt and anger, and drew them tightly around her like a protective cloak. In the long, dreary hours that she’d spent locked in this room, she’d discovered writing materials amongst the clutter on the bookshelf. Choosing a pen and some paper, she sat down in the armchair and considered what to write. When she finally decided, her words were brief and to the point.

  Mason

  I win, you lose.

  I do not have Stockholm syndrome. Everything that I said and did was to convince you to let me go.

  I will be going to the police about what happened. You raped and kidnapped me, and you should not be allowed to get away with it.

  Evelyn

  She nodded in satisfaction. It sounded decisive. That’s what a strong, determined woman would write—a woman who knew that she was not to blame.