A Bedtime Story

by L. C. Moon

His anger was quiet as he led her gently. He then turned to her and affectionately caressed her cheeks, shushing her softly.

  “You did think, Laura. You just didn’t care. You’re right, you are the lady of the house. But I’m the master. Never forget that.”

  She bowed her head; a few tears rolled down. He was right, she hadn’t cared, and truth be told, she would do it all over again given the chance. She didn’t want his permission. She didn’t want her own bedroom either.

  “What are you going to do to me?” she asked, her eyes on the ground, her voice carrying the pain she knew was coming. “Please… don’t whip me.” She broke into soft sobs.

  He lifted her chin and nodded, his eyes piercing hers. Her sobs only increased.

  “Don’t you trust me, Laura?”

  “I trust you will hurt me…” If not the whips, what had he planned for her? She thought of the cage; the thought terrified her.

  He smirked wickedly but didn’t reply. He took her hand again and led her into the dungeon. She felt mild relief as they stepped away from the cage. He left her hand at the entrance, walked to a big leather chaise, and sat in it. He eyed her devilishly for what seemed an eternity.

  “Get on your knees,” he commanded, his voice hoarse.

  She did, keeping her eyes locked on his.

  “Crawl to me.”

  Her eyes grew round with bewilderment, she hesitated. He could feel her inner dilemma; knowing how proud she was, he knew this unusual punishment would be far worse than all the physical pain he could’ve inflicted on her.

  Clenching her teeth, her eyes narrowed with pure loathing. She got down on all fours and, slowly, painfully, crawled to him. His shirt lifted above her ass with every step, taunting him. Her eyes bore into his with silent rage. One he knew would be swallowed only momentarily.

  He could see it in her eyes. She only survived this because she knew she would make him pay for it, somehow. He smiled, his beautiful bride, his fallen angel, how far she’d come, how far she’d descended. A decent person would’ve felt remorse. He looked at her with pride and admiration. Laura Spencer had adapted to her environment, had survived it, becoming Laura Malkin.

  He realized he would never break her, that she would always bend, but never break. It was just as well. He would gladly spend his life breaking her, always getting closer and never reaching his goal. He wanted to watch her transform, always rising from her ashes. He also knew that she was just as hooked on this sick game. She would lose countless battles, never the war.

  When she reached him, he stared her down, his eyes glowing with sadistic pleasure. “Kiss my feet.”

  She snapped up instantly. “What,” she hissed through gritted teeth.

  He cocked his head to the side and, with a mock sorry expression, shook his head disapprovingly. “Tsk-tsk-tsk.”

  “You’re fucking out of your mind if you think I’m going to do that.” She glared at him, her voice calm, dripping venom.

  He broke into a loud chortle, throwing his head back. When he faced her again, his eyes were wicked. He lifted her to her feet and, with a devilish grin, pulled her backward.

  Her heart was racing, she could only imagine what was coming next. He lifted her arms and bound each one to a metal ring dangling from the ceiling. He then walked back to his leather seat and just watched her, the grin never leaving his face.

  It was too easy, she thought, there had to be more, but he remained quiet, simply watching her from his comfortable seat. Soon, her muscles began to cramp, her discomfort increasing with every second. But she would not beg, would not plead. She would never lower to this. He could whip her if he wanted, but kissing his feet? No way. It wasn’t just the act that was repulsive, it was all the meaning it carried, more than submission, worse than pain. It was the humiliation. That, she couldn’t stand. Scars on her back would heal, but the ones carried in your heart, the ones that kept you up at night, that gave you nightmares and made you resent yourself, those she’d had enough. She had obediently went into a cage like an animal when she was young and helpless. To this day, she fantasized of scenarios where she fought back, where she didn’t simply take the abuse and bowed her head in shame. She had vowed to herself, never again.

  “The pain will only get worse,” Kayne informed her, making a point to stretch his arms and readjust his position to maximize his comfort.

  She remained quiet, her eyes set with a determination that fascinated him.

  “You know… some women would be glad to please their master, whatever way he wanted.”

  “Good. Then have one of them lick your dirty feet,” she spat back without thinking.

  He considered her for a moment, his eyes shining with something twisted, then he licked his lips, weighing his thought. He looked at her, his eyes boring into hers, and slowly nodded his head. He took out his cellphone and called a number on speed dial.

  He saw the emotion change in her eyes. She had grasped too late the domino effect of their little confrontation. He waited for her to speak up, willing her to stop him as the phone rang. She didn’t, simply staring in horror as he spoke on the phone.

  “Ten minutes.” That’s all he said before hanging up.

  Ten interminable minutes passed, each waiting for the other to stop the monstrosity about to unfold. Their staring contest ended with the sound of clicking heels.

  Laura watched in disbelief as a beautiful blonde entered the dungeon and quietly removed her trench coat, wearing nothing but a black choker matching her lingerie and stiletto heels. Without being told, she got down on all fours, bowed her head, and waited for instructions. She displayed no reaction at seeing Laura tied up.

  Kayne was watching Laura and decided to give her another ten seconds, to speak up, say anything, just make a sound, and he would send the whore packing. But she didn’t see him, she was watching the whore, horrified, repulsed, and silent.

  The ten seconds passed. He inhaled deeply. So be it. He finally turned toward their unwanted guest.

  “Come here, slut,” he threw at her callously.

  She immediately got moving, crawling on hands and feet, somehow making it sensual, not demeaning in the way Laura thought.

  When she reached him, Kayne looked at Laura before giving his next instruction. She met his gaze, her breathing heavy, her eyes fixed in that horrified state.

  “Kiss my feet,” he commanded the woman kneeling by his side. With deference, the woman removed his shoes and socks, placing them carefully one beside the other, then proceeded to obey his instructions with such ardor, Laura could not believe it was genuine.

  He reached for a thin black leash on a table near him and, in a harsh tone, commanded her to stop and raise herself.

  “What do you want, my pet?” He finally smirked at her, as he brushed her cheek with his thumb, cradling the side of her face in his palm. She rubbed her face to his hand like a dog seeking his master’s touch. The association sent shivers down Laura’s spine. She hated her and pitied her at the same time, burned with jealousy and recoiled in repulsion simultaneously.

  “I just want to please you, Master,” the blonde answered in a low sensual tone.

  He shot a fast glance in Laura’s direction. He realized how sick this was and yet could not be more turned on.

  “Please me with your mouth.”

  He felt himself growing even harder as she took him into her mouth, lathering him with her expert tongue. He kept her head down, pulling her hair while he stared at Laura, who watched helplessly the twisted spectacle. One she requested, one he knew killed her inside. Yet still she remained silent, did not turn her eyes away, and returned his stare as his whore pleasured him.

  He came with a groan in the woman’s mouth as she swallowed his seed with no required instructions. He took a few breaths with his eyes closed. When they reopened, they automatically fell on Laura.

  “Beat it.” He dismissed his whore without looking her way.

  She scrambled to her feet and was gone in a mo
ment.

  Kayne slowly got off his chair, zipped up his pants, and languidly walked up to Laura whose eyes followed his every movement.

  When he reached her, he let the tip of his fingers glide down her back and over his shirt. She shivered at the contact, grounding her teeth as she shot him daggers.

  He moved to her side, letting his free hand rest on her thigh. Slowly, he moved his hand up, toward the inside. She let out short rapid breaths, but still no sound escaped her lips.

  “Bet you wished you had asked for the whip instead…” he huskily whispered into her ear, his fingers making their way to her wetness. A strangled scream came out of her in response. He hardened instantly at finding her wet. Fuck, he bit his lip. His perfect woman, his goddess. He wanted to whip her, fuck her, please and worship her.

  He fell to his knees and forced her legs apart as her body twisted and turned in his grip. He held her firmly, bringing his lips to her wet core. He licked her engorged flesh and felt her juices on his tongue. She screamed and cried out her pleasure, her torture, as she felt the world around her subside. Her pained moans only increased his hunger. He licked, kissed, and teased until he pushed her over the edge. Her orgasm came out in one long, loud wounded sound. She broke into a hysterical sob as her whole body gave out, being only held up by his arm as he unbound her. The moment he freed her wrists, her arms came crashing down on him. She hit him, over and over again, her fists raining down on his chest as she howled in pain and fury.

  He let her, stood still as she expelled the poison. He let her hit him until she had no strength left and fell to the ground slowly. He lowered himself with her, never letting go of his hold. Her sobs didn’t fade. Every now and then, when she regained enough energy, she hit him again, then pushed him away. He kept holding her as they lay on the floor together. He would stay, for as long as it took.

  Laura fell silent at last with Kayne still by her side, holding her. She stared up at the ceiling, her eyes now dry, her breathing even. She finally pulled herself up, not wanting his help to pull her up or carry her, regardless of how much she craved it.

  “I’m going to bed,” she said flatly.

  She felt his hand on her arm and turned around to find him already standing behind her. Without a word, he offered his hand. She considered it but wanted to walk out on him, for once to be the one to leave him behind. He didn’t give her the chance to bring her threat to fruition. In her hesitation, he grabbed her hand. Gently, he led her up the stairs and all the way to his room. It was bittersweet. Her heart wouldn’t let her walk away. Its fresh scars wouldn’t let her savor the moment.

  Kayne had never brought anyone to his room. The moment felt almost surreal. He kept looking at Laura, wondering what she was thinking. This cold and collected Laura disgruntled him. He felt their bond so fragile, hanging by a thread pulled so tight, any rough moves and it would break. He pulled the covers, his movements slow and cautious. She got inside on her own, avoiding his touch whenever possible. As he lay beside her, she could feel his deep breath, the entire night, could sense his desire to reach for her.

  Kayne fell asleep thinking of the woman lying next to him. He woke up not long after, feeling uneasy, and immediately looked to his left to find her side empty. He snapped up and, scanning the room, found her huddled on the floor in the corner. She was hugging her legs, staring straight ahead. When he put his feet on the ground and moved toward her, he felt her body tense, saw the panic in her eyes. It killed him, but he understood. He wouldn’t go to her. This Laura he faced was wild. He would have to tame her all over again, earn her trust, and for once hope to be worthy. He slid himself to the ground, his back leaning against the bed as she watched him like a hawk. He made no more moves toward her, maintaining the distance she had deemed safe. He stayed on the ground, never shifting from his uncomfortable position, and he just stared back at her, his eyelids heavy from sleep. Noticing her shiver in his shirt, he slowly reached for the cover on the bed, brought it to the floor, and, with cautious moves, slid it over to her. She reached for it tentatively, covered her legs, and went back to watching him.

  The sun was creeping up as they remained on the floor. Too afraid to move, too afraid to sleep. She feared closing her eyes and finding him break their established boundary to reach for her. He feared closing his and finding that she’d pulled away even further.

  Day-77

  They were awakened by the sound of a cellphone ringing. Both stared at each other, surprised at having fallen asleep, relieved at finding the other exactly where they were. Tiredly, he reached for the phone on his end table, rubbing his eyes as he picked up. He exited the room to take the call. When he came back, Laura was gone.

  ***

  It was already well into the afternoon when Laura quietly snuck out of Kayne’s room to find refuge in hers. She was exhausted, could not sleep by his side, constantly wanting to go to him, feeling the burn the moment she tried. She’d wanted to go back to her room in the middle of the night but only found the strength to crawl the ten feet away. Even in that moment, she found comfort in knowing he was near. She wished he had whipped her instead. Physical pain could be contained; what she felt was pure chaos. There was no cure for that, only a coward’s way out.

  She got ready for supper in a trance, unconsciously reaching for a black dress befitting her mood. She fixed her hair and makeup as if preparing for a night out. She smiled back at her glamorous reflection. She had never been one to pride herself on her looks or invest the time and effort required to enhance them. She understood now the motivations behind the art of beauty. It was a necessary mask to hide the emptiness inside. She already felt stronger hiding her weakness behind smoky eyes and lifted her chin to face the tête-a-tête she was not ready to attend.

  ***

  Kayne was dressed as elegantly in a black suit and greeted her in a somber mood. Following the rushed greeting, no other words were exchanged as they ate their meal in heavy silence.

  “I’ll be leaving for a while.” He dropped the bomb after finishing his plate. He stood up and went to her side. They hadn’t yet exchanged a smile. They wouldn’t.

  She simply looked up at him but didn’t say a word as he placed a few items on the table next to her plate.

  “A bank account has been opened under your name, credit card, and cellphone. Lucas will leave with me. Anything you need, anywhere you have to go, see Kiev. He will take care of you.”

  She would not ask him for how long, would not ask him why he had to go, where he would be. She would not ask him if his departure hurt him as much as it hurt her. She simply nodded her head.

  She thought he would put his hand on her shoulder for a second. Instead, he brought his hand down on the table, tapping his fingers.

  Was that it, was that all he had to say? she thought bitterly. “Well… Bon voyage,” she said at last, staring straight ahead, her voice betraying no emotion.

  He closed his eyes, nodding quickly. He opened his mouth, then closed it without saying anything, only inhaled deeply. “While I’m away, you may go wherever you like... inside the house… or out. All I ask is that you take Kiev with you when you leave the premises.”

  A jaded smile crossed her lips. She barely nodded her head. She watched him leave, the man she realized with a twist in her heart she loved, the man whom to this day still didn’t trust her. She watched him walk away until he became a little black speck and disappeared into the distance. She didn’t call out to him. Silently, she prayed he would return to her.

  Day-126

  Kayne looked out the window of his fancy hotel suite, staring at the full moon. It made him think of Laura. It had been almost two months he hadn’t seen or spoken with her. He’d traveled to many countries with Lucas, met with business associates, had all types of orders carried out, left countless bodies behind. He’d attended underground parties and shows, had more women than he could account for. The moment he was alone, his mind always traveled back to Laura. When Dimitri had called him, a
dvised him of the travel, he’d been reluctant to leave Laura the way things were, but he had no choice. He realized with a sting that she, however, would only be too glad to be rid of him. He feared he’d lost her forever. He hadn’t called her directly but made sure to program his number into her cellphone should she want to reach him. She hadn’t.

  Sometimes when he lay alone in bed, especially on those nights when the moon was particularly bright, he would think back to an old Russian folktale Olga use to tell him, when he was still a child. He would imagine Laura and himself as Alexei and Aniska, the two of them against the whole world, two parts of an unbreakable whole. With bitterness, he realized he wasn’t Alexei. Laura had her Alexei; he’d taken him from her. He was the murdering huntsman, the wicked white wolf. He was no hero. He would always be the villain in the story.

  ***

  Emptiness. It filled Laura’s world. Not the type of emptiness that left you bedridden, depressed, and alone, seeking solitude and dying from it. It was the loneliness of a clown, hiding behind laughter and noise. Laura Malkin didn’t sulk. She hired a full staff to fill the house with life, went out as often as she could, spending her days shopping away, her nights hosting endless gatherings. She dressed in the finest gowns, laughed the loudest, and danced the night away. She was always the last one standing, pushing the inevitable lonely nights as far as she could. She would crawl back to her bedroom and look out the window, thinking of Kayne. Her life was rendered meaningless. For all the things she bought and people she surrounded herself with, nothing could fill the void his absence left. Every once in a while, the moon would call out to her. She would slip upstairs into Kayne’s room, wear his shirt, and fall asleep on his bed. Those nights she would dream of him, those mornings, were the hardest.

  ***

  Kiev had helped hire the new staff; they were all approved by the Organization. Olga was very happy for the help, and the company. Most were of Russian origin except the two youngest, who were barely in their twenties. French Canadians, Louis Lavallé and Genevieve Roy were as thick as thieves, always giggling together in the corners of the house. Olga felt weary of the young blonde beauty, and even more so of the protective way Louis always eyed her. She wondered why Laura accepted her. She didn’t like the defiant way Genevieve took orders. She was a flirt with all the men, rebellious and arrogant with the women. Never a good combination for an employee at the Malkin household. But Olga knew her place. She didn’t breathe a word of her concern to Laura but kept a close watch on the French Lolita.