by B. B. Hamel
“Logan,” she groans as I gently find her clit. I lick it slowly at first, getting her used to the sensation, before sucking her harder.
I drop down and spread her legs wide. I tongue her clit, moving faster, licking her every inch. I’m practically lapping her up, loving her taste, insane with desire for it. I slide my tongue inside of her and she weaves her fingers through my hair, moaning loudly.
This is what I fucking needed. I had to get a taste of her perfect little pussy, her delicious clit. I use my tongue, lips, and teeth to drive her crazy, getting her back arched, her whole body getting into it.
I slide two fingers deep inside of her before looking up. “You taste perfect,” I say. “God, I could suck this fucking clit all goddamn day.”
She moans, watching me with her mouth hanging open, her eyes wide. “Oh my god, Logan,” she breathes. “I’ve never ...“
“I know,” I say, grinning. “You didn’t know what you were in for.”
I press my fingers deep inside of her, sliding them in and out and she tips her head back, moaning, rolling her hips. I drop back down to lick her clit as I fuck her with my fingers. I follow her pace, moving along with her, driving her closer and closer. I pulled her back from the edge and now I’m going to shove her over it until she can’t breathe.
I keep sliding my fingers in and out while looking up at her again. “Is this what you thought about while touching yourself?” I ask her. “Does this feel the way you wanted it to?”
“Better,” she gasps. “Fuck, Logan. Better.”
I smirk and press my fingers in deep before going back at her clit. I pump my fingers faster, harder, sliding in and out, licking her clit, sucking it harder. She’s moaning and her body is damp with sweat, and it’s taking every ounce of my energy not to fuck her right here and now.
It’s not the time for that yet, though. I need to get her off, work this body. She deserves it and I want to give her the pleasure that I’ve been promising.
Her whole body begins to stiffen and I know she’s close. Her moans are louder, more insistent, and she can’t stop saying my name. I reach up with my free hand and feel her breast, teasing her nipple, as I continue to fuck her with my fingers, sucking her clit with my lips.
She tosses her head back and moans, her whole body stiffening. “Come for me,” I say, pumping my fingers into her. “Come on, pet, come for me.”
“Fuck,” she moans, low and loud, and her whole body spasms.
I don’t let up. I keep pumping my finger and licking her clit as she comes. I can practically feel her pussy clench as the orgasm takes her over, her whole body moving in waves of pleasure.
It slowly dies down. We slow together and eventually stop. She collapses back onto the cot, flushed and breathing deep, and I sit back to admire her.
She’s fucking gorgeous. Goddamn, I find myself amazed every time I see just how beautiful she is. It’s like she was built for me. I love her small, pink nipples and her deep eyes. I love her full lips and the curve of her chin. I can’t help but stare at her and wonder how the fuck I got so lucky.
“Wow,” she says finally, a smile on her face.
I grin back at her. “That’s just the beginning, you know.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “I’m not sure it can get any better.”
“It can. I promise.” I smirk and lean forward, taking her chin. She lets me kiss her, slow and soft.
When I finish, I pull her toward me, letting her rest her head in my lap. I softly knead her shoulders as she curls up next to me.
“Tell me something,” I say. “What do you miss the most about home?”
She’s quiet for some time, and for a second I think she didn’t hear me. But then she speaks up, breaking the silence.
“There’s not much, if I’m honest,” she says. “My father is a bastard. An abusive bastard.”
I sigh. It’s fucking always that way, isn’t it? We can’t have normal lives. Not if the world has anything to say about it.
“Wasn’t there anything that even he couldn’t ruin for you?”
“One thing,” she says softly.
“What?”
“I don’t want to say. It’s like ... ” she trails off.
“A treasure,” I say for her.
“Exactly.” She sits up and looks at me. “It’s a treasure. I don’t want to share it with anyone.”
I smile and kiss her forehead. “What if I shared a treasure of my own with you?”
She looks skeptical but she nods. “Okay. Try me.”
I take a deep breath and let it out. I have so few good memories from my childhood, so few precious things to share with her. What few precious memories I do have, I rarely ever share with someone. They’re like diamonds to me, and I’m afraid that they’ll lose their luster if I bring them out into the open.
But I need to win her trust. I’m running out of time. Besides, I feel like she’ll understand more than anyone else.
“There was a game,” I say. “When I was really young. It was this Pac-Man game. I used to play it when I’d go to the arcade. It’s stupid, but I used to lose myself there, spending every single last dime I had to play level after level.” I shake my head, smiling at the good memory. “That’s still my happy place, I guess. Pac-Man.”
She smiles and for a second, she looks radiant. The sunlight bathes her through the tiny window and she cocks her head at me.
“Pac-Man, huh?” she asks. “I didn’t take you for a videogame man.”
“Just back then,” I say. “I haven’t played since.”
“For me, it’s the beach.” She puts her head back down in my lap and I continue rubbing her shoulders. “We used to go there when I was younger. I was allowed to go to the ocean alone and walk along the water, and I’d walk for miles. Once, my father’s staff even called the police, because I was gone all day.” She laughs softly, clearly lost in a good memory.
“So you miss the ocean?” I prod.
“I do. I really miss it.”
“What if I said I could give you the ocean?”
She pauses then looks at me again. “We’re near water?”
I nod, smiling at her. “It’s not far at all.”
She stares at me without saying anything for a few second then sits up and leans away from me. She wraps a blanket around herself, and for a second I think I’ve lost her.
“I’d like that,” she says, looking away from me.
I realize why she moved. She’s crying. She’s trying to hide it from me, but she’s definitely crying. I want to reach out and comfort her, but I have the feeling that it’s the wrong move to make. It would only upset her if I saw this weakness.
Instead, I pretend not to notice.
“Good. We’ll play another game soon. And if you win, you can have the ocean.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
I stand and take one last look at her. We made some serious progress today, and I’m optimistic as hell.
But there is still a lot of danger in our future. The worst has yet to come, and I still have another job to do.
“I’ll be back later with dinner,” I say. “And tomorrow, we’ll play.”
“Okay,” she says.
“Bye, my pet.”
She just looks away from me and doesn’t respond.
I leave the cell and shut the door behind me. I lock it before walking away.
That moment on her cot, sharing those stories, that was the most intimate I’ve ever been with a woman. It’s strange to think that I’ve had so many women in my bed over the years, but I’ve never opened up and shared like that with a single one of them.
And yet I find myself wanting Riley to know me. I want her to see the man that I am, not the monster she thinks I am. I want her to know that I’m here to save her and all the women here, that I’m a good guy, that I’m on her side.
I want her to know that I’ll never let another man hurt her again. Not someone here and definitely not her
father.
But I can’t. That’s the fucking bitch of this all. I can’t tell her the truth. And so she keeps on thinking that I’m doing this to her just because I’m some sick bastard who wants to mess with her.
It doesn’t matter. Soon, I’ll set her free. She can see the ocean as much as she wants when this is all over. I’ll make sure of that.
15
Riley
All night long, I dream about Logan.
After he left, I tried to distract myself with books and magazines, but I can’t seem to read them. I just keep thinking about the way he rubbed my shoulders and told me about his past, almost like we were real lovers having an intimate moment. For that second, I forgot where we were and what we were, and felt like I was just Riley and he was just Logan.
But that illusion was shattered. Still, the pleasure he gave me, the way he made me feel, that didn’t go away. When he came back later with dinner, he just gave me my meal but he didn’t stay to watch me eat. Another guard came later to collect the empty tray.
And so Logan comes to me in my dreams. He touches me, kisses me, slides his rough hands down my smooth skin and makes me feel things I can’t guess. When I wake up with a start, I can’t shake Logan from my mind.
He drops off breakfast, but again he doesn’t stay, and again another guard picks up the tray. I spend all morning reading, but I keep finding myself glancing up at the window, wondering what time it is.
I realize that I’m anxious to see him. I want him to come and stay. He mentioned some game we might play, and I want to know what that game is.
Maybe it’s sick and strange, but I want to play. If the game makes me feel half as good as the last one did, I’ll willingly do whatever he asks. I want him to tell me more secrets about himself, but more than that, I want to tell him more secrets. I want to open up to him in ways I’ve never opened up to anyone.
Maybe I feel safe because so far he has protected me. Or maybe it’s because I feel like we have some things in common. I don’t really know what it is, but I find myself drawn toward him more powerfully with every passing day.
I’m impatient for him. The sun is high in the sky and I know it’s lunchtime. I don’t care about the food, though. I just want Logan to come and talk to me. I want him to explain this game. I’m wet already just imagining what we might do this time, and although that should freak me out, it doesn’t.
I’m practically squirming on my bed with impatience by the time I hear footsteps outside of my door. There’s a pause and then slowly the cell opens up.
One of the other guards steps inside. He gives me a look and then places the tray down on the floor. Without another word, he turns and leaves.
It’s my lunch. I stare at the tray for a second, confused. Logan never sends people in to give me my food. He always does it himself.
Did I do something to displease him? I can’t help but have that thought. I get off my cot and get the tray, but I don’t really feel hungry. I sit back down and pick at the food.
I don’t understand why he wouldn’t come himself. We usually have a little conversation during lunch and it’s my favorite time of day. Maybe something happened to him. Maybe he got in trouble for going so easy on me. I’m sure these guys aren’t supposed to be kind to us. He’s probably supposed to beat me and hit me like all the other girls got beaten.
The more I think about it, the more I realize how different Logan is from the other guards. My experience with them has been pretty limited, but I’ve noticed that they’re angrier, gruffer. They seem more like what I guessed this would be, like they’d hit me at the drop of a hat. They’d kill me in a second if it came to that.
Logan doesn’t seem that way. He’s controlling and dominating but he’s not doing it through force or violence. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s seducing me, and it’s working. I can’t believe that I’m upset that he didn’t show up this afternoon to push my buttons, but here I am, wishing he was standing against the wall and watching me eat. He always has this cocky little smile on his face and at first it drove me crazy. Now, though, I can’t get enough of it. I see that look in my dreams.
I finish lunch and pile the tray in the corner. The rest of the day slowly slides by with no sign of Logan. I’m not sure why or what happened, but he never shows up.
Slowly the sun sinks across the sky. I get tiny glimpses of it through the small window. The light gets longer as the day progresses and I can tell it’s almost dinnertime.
I’m engrossed in my book when I hear the footsteps again. I glance up at the door but I don’t get my hopes up. Logan brings my dinner but he doesn’t normally stay. He probably sent a guard to do this again.
The door opens and I glance up, hope seizing my chest. Logan steps inside and shuts the door behind him, a tray in his hands.
I can’t help myself. A smile breaks across my face as soon as I see him. He grins back at me. “You look happy,” he says.
“Do I?” I say, blushing a little.
“You missed me at lunch.” He places the tray down on the cot next to me.
“No,” I say quickly. “That’s not it.”
“Sure it is.”
“Where were you, anyway?”
He grins. “I knew it.”
“I’m just asking.” I pretend to pick at my food, trying to hide my curiosity.
“I had some important work to do,” he says softly.
“Work for this place?” I ask.
“No,” he says. “Not for this place.”
“What do you do, anyway?”
He pauses and looks at me. I cock my head, wondering what he’s thinking. The cocky smile is gone and he looks like he’s struggling with something.
“I’m a freelancer,” he says finally.
“Is this what you normally do?” I ask him.
“No,” he says. “You’re my first.”
I laugh softly. “You’re my first, too.”
He pauses and suddenly moves away from me. I’m not surprised that I’m the first girl he’s tried to train like this. He seems like he knows what he’s doing, but he’s not bad, he’s not malicious.
“How did you end up here?” I ask him. “You don’t seem ...“ I trail off, not sure how to put it.
“Like I belong?” he finishes.
“Exactly. You’re not rotten like everyone else is.”
He looks at me with this strange longing, but quickly covers it up with a smile. “I’ll tell you one day,” he says. “Hopefully soon.”
“Why not tell me now?”
“I can’t. Not right now.”
I can’t help my curiosity, but I let it drop and go back to eating. He watches me in silence and I can feel a thick tension between the two of us.
Why can’t he tell me how he ended up here? I can’t help but think it’s something bad. Maybe he’s ashamed of it, and doesn’t want me to know. He says I’m his first, and so I can imagine he’s not doing this because he wants to do it. He doesn’t seem like he enjoys it.
Well, not all of it. He seems like he enjoys getting me naked and making me do things. But we both enjoy that. I can’t hold it against him.
“I have a new game for us to play,” he says as I finish my meal. “Do you want to know what it is?”
“Yes,” I say, feeling a thrill spike through me.
“Good,” he says, smiling. “I think you’ll like this game. Because the prize is something you want.”
“What?”
“If you obey me, I’ll take you for a walk.”
I blink, surprised, and push the tray aside. I place it down on the ground before looking at him again. “A walk?”
“Outside,” he says. “Down by the ocean,”
I take a sharp breath. “Can you really do that?” I ask.
“I can do anything I want,” he says softly, a smirk on his lips.
My heart beats fast in my chest. I’ve been stuck in room after room ever since I was taken. I’ve barely been able to move aroun
d. The idea of walking along the ocean sounds like heaven to me.
But what will he make me do in exchange for it? I can’t imagine they’d want him to take me down to the water. If it’s outside of wherever we are, I might be able to escape, and I’m guessing that’s out of the question. This is probably a big thing for both of us.
Which means it’ll cost me something. It always costs me something. So far, the cost has been small, but the return in pleasure has been huge. So far, it’s been worth it every time. But now, suddenly I’m afraid that it might be too much to bear. I know Logan has to push me. I understand our position. He needs to make me submissive. He needs to make me obey him. And so far, he’s wearing out my defenses. But it’s taking time, and I’m afraid of what the next steps are.
I’m afraid of getting lost in him completely.
“Do you want that?” he asks me.
“I want it,” I say. “But I’m afraid.”
“Of what?”
“You.”
He smiles at me. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, Riley. You just have to obey me.”
“I know. But I’m still afraid.”
“Do you want to know what you have to do?”
“Yes,” I say. My heart is hammering in my chest. Excitement courses through my veins. My pussy is wet already, clenching with fear and desire.
“Strip,” he says. “That’s the easy part. When you’re finished, I want you down on your knees. I want you to kneel in front of me and tell me how much you want me.”
I watch him for a second, letting that sink in. “That’s it?” I ask.
“That’s it. Strip down, kneel, and tell me how much you want me.” He stands before me, arms crossed, strong and powerful. He could force me to do this, I know it, but he won’t.
Slowly, I stand up. I can practically feel the sand underneath my toes.
But more than that, I can already see myself bowing to him. It’s not a horrible thing. I know what I’ll say, what words I’ll use, and they won’t be lies.
That’s the insane part of this. Telling him that I want him won’t be hard, because it won’t be a lie.