A Bedtime Story

by L. C. Moon

  He firmly took her face in both his hands, forcing her to stare at him. “Laura. Calm down, it’s just a show.”

  By now the masked man had abandoned his whip, and another had joined him on stage. One of them began penetrating the woman forcefully from behind as the other fucked her mouth savagely, her gagging sounds echoing throughout the room.

  Laura’s eyes went back to the stage, though her face was still trapped in Kayne’s hands.

  “They’re raping her…” she finally whispered to him, her voice broken, her eyes in agony.

  “They’re not raping her,” he assured her dismissively.

  “They are! They’re raping her!” she insisted, her voice growing erratic.

  Kayne closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh, his nostrils flaring. “Come with me.”

  He pulled her off the couch by the arm in one quick movement and dragged her out of the room, taking long strides as she struggled to keep up with him.

  He turned a corner, then another, and stopped abruptly in the middle of a deserted corridor, pinning her wrists up to the wall. He leaned in close, his mouth barely a few inches from hers. They were both panting, Kayne, with a mix of aggravation and arousal, Laura from fear and the knot in the gut she constantly felt when alone and close to him. He pulled his face back, his breathing slowing to normal, but kept her pinned against the wall, maintaining his firm grip on her wrists.

  “There. Out of the room. Feel better?”

  She shook her head slowly, her eyes filling with unshed tears. He sighed again, though this time his features softened. He leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes for a few seconds, then pulled back. He let go of her wrists and just stared at her, somewhere between amused and fascinated.

  “What am I going to do with you?” He shook his head at her, the corner of his lips quirking upward. “You’re really convinced she is being raped.”

  “Yes.” Her answer was emphatic, though spoken in a soft voice.

  He shook his head again. “And what makes you so sure?”

  “Seriously?”

  “Tell me.” He crossed his arms, a little annoyed at her stubbornness and yet amused by it.

  “You want me to believe that this was consensual? Listen, I know all about S & M and bondage and stuff—”

  His brow shot up with surprise, then smiling seductively, he interrupted her, “Do you now?”

  She immediately turned red, stammering, unable to hold his stare. “Well… I mean… like… not firsthand…” and then with more conviction, she met his eyes again. “But yes, I do know about it, and this, this, was not role play. It was real, it was very real.”

  “Which still doesn’t make it rape,” he concluded flatly.

  “This was NOT consensual!”

  “And you know that… how exactly?” he asked patronizingly, clearly enjoying their little debate.

  “You want me to believe she wants this?”

  “What if I told you that I knew for a fact that she was into this.” He mimicked her disdain at the word.

  “You can’t possibly know that…”

  He didn’t answer, just lifted his brows in silent innuendo.

  “You’ve done this to her…?” Her voice dripped with dread. She backed away from him, every inch of her body pressed against the wall.

  He leaned in, putting his arms against the wall by each side of her shoulders, effectively caging her in, and wolfishly whispered into her ear, “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answered, baby girl.” She gulped, the rest of her body remaining very still.

  “Will this happen to me?” she asked at last, her voice so soft it was barely audible, her eyes filled with pain.

  “What?” Genuine surprise marked his voice.

  “You send girls here… when you’re done with them. Is that what will happen to me? If you never find Peter… it’s not like you’ll keep me in your house forever. And if you do…” Her voice cracked with pain. “It’s not like you’ll let me go. Is this where you’ll send me?”

  He pulled back again, his eyes inscrutable. “No, Laura, I will not send you here.”

  She lowered her head, shutting her eyes with relief. She remained silent, numbed by too many emotions lived through too little time. When she opened her eyes again, the tears she had been holding back fell freely down her cheeks.

  He cocked his head, watching her beautiful face giving way to the flow of tears, her big grey eyes glistening, her soft pink lips quivering. He languidly grabbed her by the front of her dress and pulled her to him, arching her body toward him. She didn’t resist, looking up at him, her eyes filled with questions. He met her gaze. Slowly, he leaned in and kissed her softly on her lips.

  ***

  Laura lay in bed, replaying the night in her head over and over again. She had never felt as confused in her life. She still shivered remembering the show, the way the women were treated, and then the image of Kayne appeared, overpowering all others. Kayne pulling her close protectively, Kayne whispering scary and yet seductive things in her ear, Kayne shamelessly leering at her naked body…

  The last thought caused her body to react, and she felt the wetness pool in between her legs again. She squeezed her legs and opened her eyes in an attempt to banish the thought. And then she recalled his kiss. His sweet, gentle kiss. She had liked his kiss, realizing she was leaning into it when he broke it off. She remembered the sweet way he had looked at her after and held her hand to pull her out of that nightmarish place. In the car, he was silent, almost distant. She had glanced at him a few times hoping to catch his stare, but he never looked her way.

  When they got home, he caressed her cheek as he had so many times that night and sent her off to bed while still standing in the doorway. He had somewhere else to go it seemed. She wondered if he was returning to the party. Tanya’s image flashed in her mind. She could picture her greeting him on his own, making snide comments about her as she flirted away with him, taking him somewhere private. Laura chose not to pursue this line of thought, surprised at how fast her stomach turned with the vivid images in her head; her teeth clenched so hard her jaw hurt.

  She couldn’t understand why she felt that way. She was at a loss when it came to him. She couldn’t reconcile the Kayne that kissed her so sweetly, that had protected her, even comforted her, with the Kayne who participated in these sordid parties, who admitted unblinkingly to the monstrous things he would do there… The same Kayne, she recalled her chest tightening, who had brought her into an interrogation room and had, by his own confession, interrogated countless others. Yet he had stepped in, had rescued her from the wolves he had delivered her to. What kind of monster was he? What kind of monster kisses like that? She caught herself wondering what it would be like to be with him. Would he be gentle? Would he be cruel as she knew him to be capable of? Or maybe… a little of both?

  She felt an urge to touch herself down there, to soothe the ache building between her thighs. She resisted, unable to accept the effect he had on her. She had touched herself before, but never with anyone specific in mind, especially not a man, a monster, like him.

  Day-9

  The next day, Laura slept in. When Olga came sometime in the afternoon to take back the untouched breakfast, Laura was just waking up.

  “Ah, you’re finally up. Should I bring you a fresh breakfast? This won’t do.” She pointed to the cold food on the trolley, her smile as radiant as ever.

  “Hmm… It’s okay, I think I’ll just have coffee for now. Thank you, Olga.”

  “As you wish.” She was about to turn to leave then added, almost as an afterthought, “Master Kayne wanted me to inform you that he won’t be home for supper tonight. Would you still like to eat at seven?”

  “He won’t?” Laura asked, a little too loudly.

  “No, Miss Spencer.”

  “Oh… Yes, seven will be fine, thank you.”

  Laura could barely disguise the disappointment in her voice. He had never missed supper since he had b
rought her to the house. She used to dread it. She was even locked in a cage barely a week ago for refusing his company. Now, she felt a wave of disappointment, she almost felt rejected. Was he avoiding her? She couldn’t help but wonder, feeling like a teenage girl waiting for a call after a first date. In a twisted way, it almost was, even ending with a soft kiss. She shook the thoughts away, forcing herself to get through the day. Every so often she caught her thoughts treading a dangerous path, a path he had led her into, and now left her alone in.

  Day-10

  Laura dreamt of him for the second night in a row, waking up panting, her panties carrying evidence of the nature of the dreams. She woke up early, impatiently awaiting Olga’s arrival. When she finally came in at nine to bring in her breakfast, Laura attempted to mask her nerves as she inquired about Master Kayne’s whereabouts.

  “Thank you, Olga, it was delicious.”

  “It’s my pleasure, Miss Spencer.”

  “Olga… Can you just call me Laura, if that’s okay?” She smiled at her, her warmth genuine.

  “Of course, Miss Laura, if you prefer.”

  “You can just call me Laura…”

  “No, no, Miss Laura… that wouldn’t be proper.” Olga refused adamantly, waving her hands in front of her chest. Though Olga was old school, proper manners were more meaningful than tradition and culture to her. They were a lifeboat. She had convinced herself that keeping her head bowed and her eyes to the floor had kept her employer’s hands away from her. She had suffered too much at the hands of men before being taken into the household. Once upon a time, she was young and thought herself invincible. She learned the hard way; the world rewarded the humble and spared only the invisible.

  “Oh… Okay…” Unable to comprehend, Laura didn’t insist.

  “Well, will you be needing anything else?” Olga asked, her kind smile quickly back on her face.

  “Hmm… actually... I was just wondering… Can I have supper in my reading room tonight?”

  “Yes of course, wherever you like, Miss Laura. Any special requests?”

  Her face dropped. He was avoiding her. Was it because of the kiss? She couldn’t help but wonder. Did she do anything wrong? She could see Olga was still waiting for her answer, so she composed herself.

  “Hmm… Nope, carte blanche.” She smiled at her.

  “Very well then.” Olga reciprocated her smile, pleased with the vote of confidence.

  Laura was grateful for Olga’s presence in the house. She brought warmth and humanity to the place. She realized she had been the only person she’d had any type of human contact with… besides him.

  She thought back to her old life, barely two weeks ago, it seemed like a lifetime ago. She wondered if anyone worried or asked about her, realizing, her throat choked with emotion, most likely not.

  ***

  She woke up late at night in the reading room with the book still opened on her lap. She scrubbed her eyes, trying to read the time on the TV clock; it was past one in the morning. Still half asleep, she dragged herself off the couch, led by the prospect of the comfortable bed awaiting her, as a dangling carrot from a stick. Once into the hallway, she could hear TV noises and see it cast shadows on the opposite wall. He was there, watching TV in the living room. She remained in place, hesitant. To her right awaited the safety of her bedroom. To the left, him, and all the implications that only word contained. Her heartbeat quickening, she took a few steps to the left. She wanted to see him, to know how he would react to her, what would ensue following their last encounter. She’d always had a morbid curiosity that pushed her forward to meet the storm head-on, to open Pandora’s box, come what may. She’d almost turned the corner but lingered behind the wall, her impulses finally confronted with reason. Shouldn’t she just wait? He could not possibly avoid her within his own house forever. It was madness to seek his company, alone, in the middle of the night.

  “Laura.” His voice resounded crisp through the distance.

  Her heart beat even faster; she didn’t move.

  “You should really work on your stealth mode if you don’t want to be heard…” he said playfully into the darkness while she still hid behind the wall.

  She showed herself but remained lingering at the edge of the corner, almost childlike. “Hi…”

  He was sitting in his usual spot on the couch, wearing jeans and a white shirt unbuttoned at the top. A bottle of whiskey was sitting on the table by his glass. He looked her up and down, a sensual languor in his stare. She was wearing a tight white cotton T, the V-neck showing just a little cleavage, and cute granite-colored yoga pants in a thigh-hugging cut that accentuated her curves.

  “You’re up late,” he observed.

  “Yeah… well no. I passed out in the reading room… I mean, that room with the red couch… I call it the reading room…” she rambled on nervously, then catching herself, offered an embarrassed smile and continued with more self-assurance. “I was on my way back to my bedroom.”

  “Wrong way,” he pointed out with a smirk on his face.

  “Yes… I heard noise…” she explained. “Well, I don’t want to bother you…”

  “You’re not. Have a seat.”

  She took a few unsure steps before settling on the La-Z-Boy.

  “So, did you finish that book I gave you?”

  “No, not yet…”

  “How come? You don’t like it?”

  “No, no, it’s not that. I really do actually. It’s just that—” She caught herself before finishing the sentence.

  “It’s just that…” he urged her.

  She felt herself blushing. “Nothing. I guess I’ve just been a little… distracted…”

  “And what has you distracted?” He smirked.

  “Everything…”

  He gave her an impatient look, which effectively untangled her tongue.

  “I don’t know… everything… the party…” She looked away with the latter admission.

  “What about it?”

  “May I ask you a question?” she ventured hesitantly, throwing furtive looks his way.

  He waited for her to gather the courage and look him in the eye. “Ask.”

  “The women there… Were they… sex slaves?” she asked uneasily. He let out a long sigh, getting up to get another glass, which he filled and set next to his, not at her end of the table. His eyes silently communicated the directive. She understood, got up, and settled on the couch uncertainly. She brought her feet up and wrapped her arms around them, simultaneously pushing herself to the furthest side of the couch and away from him, all the while under his scrutinizing stare.

  “Some, not all,” he finally answered. “Drink.”

  She took a small sip, already regretting taking the conversation down that path. But she had to know, had to know the extent to which her puzzling captor could cross the lines of right and wrong, the extent to which darkness resided in him.

  “Do you… Do you do that?”

  “Do what? Deal in sex trafficking?”

  She nodded, apprehension in her eyes.

  “Not personally.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyeing her sideways.

  She sighed with the small relief that came with his answer, but persisted, already knowing the answer but needing to hear it vocalized, “But the people you work with do.”

  “Yes,” he confirmed, his face showing no emotion.

  “You don’t… care?”

  “No, Laura, I don’t.”

  “But… how can you stand for it?”

  “I don’t stand for it… I don’t stand against it,” he corrected her, his tone rising with annoyance. “I’m not out to save the world, Laura.” He leaned back in his seat, looking her in the eye. “Just protect what is mine.”

  She felt her stomach churn. “Don’t you worry about catching anything? I mean…”

  “The girls are closely supervised and regularly tested. They’re clean,” he threw dismissively.

  “And…
the others… were there by choice…?” she asked, still doubtful.

  “The others were there because their masters wanted them there, and they want to please their masters.” Though his voice was still annoyed, unapologetic delight danced in his eyes as he explained the last part.

  It sent shivers down her spine. She thought of stories she’d read, where the willing prey lustfully bared their necks for the vampire’s deadly bite. She’d been fascinated by those tales, by their cursed lovers damned to destroy whomever they loved, and by the men and women who loved them despite it all. Kayne had claimed he’d never had a relationship, and she wondered about the women who’d been in his life. What were they to him? What was he to them? Who were they? A colorful and highly abrasive image materialized in response. The redhead.

  “What about that woman… Tanya I think?” She tried to conceal her disdain as she pronounced her name. Turning her eyes away, she could still feel him smile.

  “What about her?” he asked, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “She wasn’t like the others… She doesn’t have a... master?” She felt repulsion uttering the word.

  “She belongs to Dimitri.”

  “Oh… I just thought…”

  “And what did you think?” he inquired, a smile softening his features.

  “I just thought… I thought you were together…” she admitted, her eyes constantly moving to the floor with discomfort and back to his face, seeking his reaction.

  “She was mine. A long time ago.”

  “Oh.”

  He indulged her curiosity with amusement. He’d never let other women interrogate him like that, but her candid questions alone were more revealing to him than any answer she sought. So he let her ask away, divulging the nature of her curiosity, her fascination with the sinister world he had just introduced her to, his world, even betraying a pang of jealousy she could barely disguise.

  A silence followed, while she took small sips of her drink, the one question she’d been wanting to ask, still burning on her tongue. She took another sip, liquid courage they called it. It did the trick. “Are you a sadist?” she blurted, surprised at her own boldness.