He strode to the door and banged on the wood with the flat of his palm. The sound echoed through the room, loud and hollow, making her cringe. His hand smarted at the contact.
Footsteps on the other side, growing louder as they approached. And then the door swung open, his father’s familiar figure in the opening. The other man’s keen gaze flicked between them, taking in the scene before him—the frightened woman pulling her dress around her body, the angry, ashamed expression of his only son.
“You did what was required?” his father asked the woman.
A prostitute, he realized that now. He’d read about women who were paid to have sex with men.
“I .... I ...” she stuttered.
Monster spoke up. “She did what was required.”
His father’s eyes blazed. “You dare lie to me?”
His stomach churned at the lie, at standing up to his father. “No, Father. She put her mouth on me. I enjoyed it.”
“Lies! I know what satisfaction looks like, and this certainly isn’t it.” The man stalked into the room. With his open palm, he struck the prostitute across the face, hard enough to knock her to the floor. She raised her hand to her face where she’d been hit, her dress falling open once more.
“I’m sorry,” she cried. “I tried, I tried.”
His father turned to him. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” Heat burned his cheeks. “I wasn’t able to—physically.”
“Bullshit. There’s nothing wrong with you, at least not with that part of you, anyway. Tell me the truth or I’ll beat both of you bloody.”
Monster’s lips pressed together, not wanting to tell his father the truth, knowing how pathetic—how weak—it sounded.
His father strode to the woman and reached down and grabbed her by the throat. Even though he was older, his father was still a powerful man, both mentally and physically. Monster was big enough and strong enough to overpower him, but the psychological dominance, together with the love and twisted respect he held for his father, stopped him from doing so.
“Tell me the truth or I’ll kill you here,” his father hissed at the prostitute.
Tears streamed down her face. “He kept asking me to look at him.”
“And you couldn’t even do that?”
“I did, but he’s ... like he is. He must have seen it in my face, and he ... lost his erection.”
His father turned his attention back to him. “Act like a man, dammit,” his father snarled. “Real men don’t ask a woman for something. A real man takes it. This little slut only exists for the pleasure of men. You take what you want, and she will give it to you, because that is the correct order of things. If you let a woman think she’s in any way better than you, she’ll have your balls crushed in no time. That’s how it is with women. Make sure they know their place.” He turned back to the prostitute. “Crawl on your knees and suck him.”
Monster’s heart leapt in his chest. “No, Father!” That was the last thing he wanted.
The man rounded on him, his eyes hard as ice. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
Monster looked anxiously between the prostitute and his father. Neither of them wanted to argue with the older man.
She crawled to him, coming to rest at his feet. Tears poured down her face, her mascara running in black rivulets down her cheeks. The side of her face where his father had hit her had already bloomed in a reddening bruise. Her lips were swollen, her lower lip split.
Something about her disfigured face stirred a reaction within him. She was no longer his superior—the beautiful, perfect, sexually confident woman who had walked into the room. Now she was his equal, almost as ugly as he was. To his horror, his cock began to stir in his pants.
No, he didn’t want that!
“Father, please,” he tried again.
“Shut up, Monster,” he snapped, and Monster saw the woman flinch at the name. “Or I’ll kill you both.” He moved over to them both, and reached down and grabbed the woman by the jaw. He forced her chin up, so her eyes were raised to Monster’s face. “Look at him while you’re doing it, or I’ll cut your pretty tits off.”
And she lifted her eyes to his completely this time, not even shifting her gaze as her hand slipped back inside his pants to free his erection once more. Even as her hot mouth encircled his cock, still she looked at him, her eyes bloodshot and streaked with black mascara, the bruise in the same place his own disfigurement was. And this time she was able to look at him. Perhaps this time she’d realized there were more frightening things in the world.
To his shame and horror, his balls grew heavy, tightening into his body. His breathing grew more frantic, his whole body rigid. His hands were clenched at his sides, not wanting to touch the damaged woman staring at him with his member in her mouth. His arousal built, higher and higher, until his hips jerked with involuntary movement.
He forgot for the briefest of moments that his father stood over him, and the girl on her knees in front of him had been both paid and beaten to be there.
Eight
Lily was left in solitude for what felt like days. More bread was brought to her, the gap in the door opening for a matter of seconds, long enough to pass the tray through, and then shut again. She begged and pleaded with whoever was on the other side, desperate for some kind of contact with other people, even if it might be of the negative kind. She was so lonely, going crazy with her own thoughts, that she would have been happy to exchange a conversation for a couple of slaps if it had been offered.
She ran her conversation with Monster over and over in her head. What did he mean when he talked about her skills? The only thing she was any good at was her work, and she struggled to figure out how that fit into this situation. He seemed to know a lot about her, and had mentioned that she’d not had any relationships, so he must also know her skills definitely weren’t in the bedroom. Her mind boggled at why he’d taken so much time and money to single her out. She was nothing special. If she was just someone he’d bought to use as an orifice to take out whatever dark pleasures he was into, why bother to learn so much about her?
The only thing that kept her sane was the books left on the shelves. They were older books, classics, rather than the novels she normally enjoyed reading, but she was happy to have something to keep her mind off her situation.
Though she wanted to lose herself in the books, even reading wracked her with guilt. She felt like she should be doing something productive to try and work her way out of this, but she couldn’t. She’d scoured every inch of the room, but found nothing she could use as a weapon. Even the hangers in the closet were metal, the loops soldered over the rail in the same way they were in hotels she’d stayed at. She had the trays her pitiful meals were sent in on, but they were flimsy plastic. Short of trying to hit someone with one, which wouldn’t be an easy task considering the amount of drag they had when waved through the air, she didn’t think they’d do too much damage.
The lack of human contact was the worst. Though she’d always distanced herself physically, and kept people at an arm’s length, she realized in her normal life she actually spent a lot of time with other people. Yes, the weekends might have been a bit lonely, but even then she’d come into contact with people when she went to the local store to pick up groceries, or simply bumped into a neighbor. At work, during the week, she was with people all the time—from her colleagues to the patients she treated. Never before had she been so completely cut off from anyone else, and she longed for company—someone to talk to. She reached a point where she was even willing to allow her captors to put the blindfold and handcuffs back on her. She didn’t care anymore. She just wanted answers. No one had laid a hand on her since that last time with Monster, and now perversely, she almost wished they did so she understood what was happening to her. At least then she’d have some human contact—she’d never realized she was so reliant on communication with other people.
Movement came at the door, and she looked up from the b
ook she was currently reading—Tess of the D’Urbervilles—and froze. Her heart skyrocketed in her chest, her mouth running dry. Was this to be more food thrown in at her? She’d only been given her last morsel less than an hour ago, so she suspected it was something else. As the door opened, her paralysis broke and she dropped the book to scoot around the side of the bed and hide behind it.
The older man’s cold laugh followed her. “There’s no point in trying to hide. It’s not as though you can go anywhere.”
Lily risked peeping over the top of the mattress. He stood holding the handcuffs and blindfold. He caught sight of her and jangled them in her direction.
“Sir wants to talk with you again. You need to put these on.”
She risked speaking. “Is he going to explain to me what’s going on?”
He gave a slow nod. “I believe that’s a possibility, but you will need to behave yourself.”
She couldn’t continue with this solitary confinement. Too much time in her own head was going to drive her crazy. She needed to know what they wanted with her, even if she wasn’t going to like the answer.
Slowly, she got to her feet and nodded. “Okay.” She held her wrists out toward him, but he shook his head.
“Turn around.”
Lily exhaled a sigh to keep her nerves at bay and turned her back to him. He crossed the room and then pulled her hands behind her back, clicking the cool circles of metal around her wrists, securing them together. She swallowed hard as the blindfold was wrapped around her eyes once more, blocking off her view of the room. A trembling took over, starting at the tenseness in her shoulders, and gradually working its way down her body. The man put his hands on the tops of her upper arms and guided her back to the other side of the room. She heard scraping as the chair was pulled into the center of the room again, and then he pushed down on her shoulders, forcing her to sit.
Movement came in front of her, the brush of air against her face as the door was opened and closed again.
Had the older man left?
Then she heard footsteps, and instantly the atmosphere in the room changed again. The man who called himself Monster was here. She could sense him in the room, feel his eyes on her, taste the scent of his cologne in the air. The trembling became violent shakes, every inch of her skin alert for his proximity. Would he try to touch her again? She’d bite him if he tried—screw the consequences.
He spoke, making her jump. “I apologize for the blandness of your meals over the last couple of days. I thought that after what you’ve been through, your stomach may not handle much more.”
“My stomach is fine,” she snapped back. “I just want to know what you want with me.”
“First, I need you to understand and accept that no one is coming for you. You are no longer in America, and if you try to hurt me or escape, you will only suffer. No one here is going to help you. Do you understand?”
“What do you want with me?” she repeated.
His tone grew harsh. “Do you understand?”
She didn’t answer. “Are you going to rape me? Is that why you brought me here?”
His laugh was cold. “No, Flower. That’s not why I brought you here, though I won’t deny I’m attracted to you. There is something incredibly alluring about how defenseless you are right now, handcuffed and blindfolded. You are a beautiful woman, Flower, and I like that you truly are a woman, not a girl.”
“Fuck off, you creep.”
He laughed again, not taking her insults seriously. “Please, understand that I could take you if I wanted, and there would be nothing you could do about it. You are mine. But that’s not why I brought you here.”
“I’m not yours. I never will be.”
He gave an exasperated sigh. “You need to be grateful for the way I treat you. Others could have bought you who would have treated you far, far worse.”
Her jaw tensed with fury. “Except I wouldn’t have been kidnapped if it wasn’t for you. I don’t know why, but you chose me, didn’t you?”
“You’re perceptive, Flower. I should have known that.”
“Before, you said you needed my skills. What did you mean by that?”
“I need your skills with a laser,” he continued. “My sources have informed me that you produce excellent results.”
Her mind reeled. Was she actually having this conversation? If she wasn’t blindfolded and handcuffed, she’d have believed herself to be in a consultation.
“I … I don’t understand.”
“I have an … imperfection.” He chuckled, but the sound was cold, sending spears of fear to her heart.
What kind of imperfection did he mean—scars? Sunspots? Acne? A tattoo he regretted? The possibilities were numerous. Why the hell would he go as far as kidnapping someone to get it treated? Did it have something to do with the reason he kept her blindfolded? Surely he must realize she would need to see him if she was going to treat him, though if he dared put a laser into her hands right now she would burn both his fucking eyes out before she treated whatever part of himself he didn’t like.
“You know you could have just booked an appointment?” Despite her position, she couldn’t help the sarcastic tone to her voice.
“That simply wasn’t possible. Doing so would mean I’d have to venture into the wide world, and I can’t risk people seeing me. The people who work for me, and who work against me, believe I am my father’s son in every way. I can’t have them thinking I am any less.”
“You could have just asked someone to come here to work on you. I’m sure you could afford it.”
“I needed to have someone I knew I could trust. What if I contacted the wrong person and word got out about me needing help? That wouldn’t look good for me at all.”
“What makes you think you can trust me?”
“I don’t, not just yet. But you are like me in more ways than you would ever admit to yourself. You, too, keep yourself shut off from others, just in a different way.”
She bristled at the idea of being anything like this man. “I let other people see me!”
“See you, but not touch you, or be physical in any way.”
“And who are you physical with, Monster?” She snarled the name. “Women you abduct? Women you blindfold? Women you pay?”
Frustratingly, he laughed again. “Yes, on occasion. I have plenty of money. With the sort of money at my disposal, I can have whatever I want.”
“But not regular appointments with a laser therapist!”
He gave an exasperated sigh, and she followed the fall of his footsteps as he paced back and forth in front of her. “This isn’t exactly going the way I had planned. I had hoped you were ready, Flower, but now I’m not so sure.”
“What do you mean?”
“You need to behave yourself. Be sensible. If I can trust you, you can have more freedom. You can interact with others who work for me—”
“I don’t work for you,” she snapped. “I’m practically your slave!”
He chuckled. “You’d do well to remember that. My point is that if you are good, you will be treated well. You’ll have decent meals, and I may even allow you to walk outside in the grounds. Imagine feeling fresh air and sunlight on your face again. You will have a comfortable life.”
“This isn’t a life. I am barely existing.” The idea of being outside again almost made her break. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed seeing the sun and having the wind whip her hair from her face.
“Perhaps, but it can be better.” His voice was seductive, trying to lure her into his way of living. “Just do as I say, bend to my will, and I will treat you fairly.”
She could barely believe what she was hearing. “I’m being kept against my will. How is any of this fair?”
“Believe me, I, of all people understand that life is not fair.” She detected sadness in his voice, and perhaps, regret?
“Just take off this blindfold, please,” she said. “Undo the cuffs and let me out of this room. I’ll
go crazy if I spend any more time in here alone.”
He hesitated. “No, I don’t think you’re ready.”
“I am, please!” She regretted all her snarky remarks. When would she ever learn to keep her mouth shut? If she could convince him she was meek and compliant, he would give her access to the rest of the house and to other people. If that happened, she might be able to find someone who would help her, or even find a way out of here. There must be a phone or internet connection in the building. No one lived or was able to do business without them. If she could just get to a phone and call the authorities in America …
Her thoughts trailed off. So what if she could? What would she tell them? She still had no idea where she was. Maybe they’d be able to trace the call, she didn’t know. Could they trace to a whole different country? It seemed unlikely.
Despite everything working against her, she needed to try.
“I’ll be good,” she tried again. “I promise.”
She sensed him move closer, the scent of his cologne growing stronger, but still not overpowering. The air between them warmed from his body heat, and her ears picked up on the slow, steady sound of his breaths. She poised in anticipation, her own breath held, as he reached up and his fingertips brushed her temples where the blindfold hugged her face.
She wanted to see him, wanted to know what the face of the man who’d taken her looked like. The heat of his skin burned through her temples, the scent of him making her heady and stirring something deep inside her. The solitary confinement must have left her desperate for human contact, despite everything she’d been through. She didn’t want this man’s hands anywhere near her. She just wanted to get out of this room.
But then his hands withdrew and he stepped away. “No, you’re not ready yet.”
Anger and panic surged up within her. “I’m ready!” she screamed. “Please! Don’t make me sit in this room any more. I’ll go crazy if I do.”
Defaced: A Dark Romance Novel Page 7