by Cee Smith
I remembered the day I took this—I had put Scout on detail of her whereabouts while she vacationed at some resort in Mexico the previous spring. From the information I had gathered by that point, I knew she was an avid swimmer—an all around lover of the water. When he told me of their plans to go kayaking, I canceled my meetings and took the first flight out to see her in person—from afar, of course. I told myself then that I was only coming to her in the event she was hurt and I needed to move my plans forward, but the longer I sat on the beach watching her, the more I wanted her. The way the sunrays filtered through her golden hair, how her body moved with the water, her vivacious spirit—something in her called to me as sure as if she had spoken my name.
In a normal world under normal circumstances things could have been different between us. For months after seeing her that day on the beach, I would think that thought and sigh. She was the kind of girl to bring home to your parents, where they’d fawn all over her and congratulate you on finding such a good girl, but my parents were gone. And it had been a long time since I’d had anyone question my moral compass. It was better that way—less messy for the both of us.
So when I looked at the picture of water-soaked tresses pulled away from her face with a smile that highlighted her plump cheeks and denim-colored eyes, I smiled. In a room not two doors down, I may not have had this version of Hailey—young and carefree with a smile stretched from ear to ear—but I had something better. I had a version that was mine, that was whatever I chose to make it. Whatever I chose to make her. I spent twelve mindless months of tracking her every move, of waiting for the right time for both of us, until I thought her ready to be mine. Those first few months I actually thought fucking girls that looked like Hailey would sate my hunger, but I was always left disappointed and with a flourishing need to feel Hailey beneath me.
I finished up my bath, paying special attention to the muscles coiled so tight from adrenaline and the exertion of carrying a hundred pound load through the water and aboard my ski boat. It was a delicious ache that soothed me—like when you’ve overexerted yourself working out, and the next day you can feel muscles you never thought you had. Scout offered to pick Hailey up for me, but this was something I needed to do myself. I trusted him implicitly, but something about the thought of another man touching her made my thoughts turn ravenous, bloodthirsty. When I finished bathing, I toweled off, grabbing her photo from the floor before making my way into the adjoining room.
My room was no better than the room Hailey was in, minus the chain to the wall, of course, but everything else was almost the same down to the too-small bed. I couldn’t wait to get her home. The thought pulsed through me, awakening the need that I’d spent months tamping down. What would it feel like to finally set the need free? I settled in bed with my back propped up against the wall and my laptop in my lap. I opened the browser, showing video feed from the room Hailey was in down the hall. The sedative I gave Hailey was only supposed to put her out for a few hours, but it was closer to six, and she was still lying in bed with the covers pressed up to her neck and a barely-there smile upon her face. I wondered what she was dreaming about. I looked over every detail of her face the camera could capture. Despite her physically being so close, I waited, wanting our first moments together to be special—ones she’d remember.
After another twenty minutes of oscillating between reading my CEO’s review in Forbes, keeping tabs on sleeping beauty, and catching up with Scout regarding Hailey’s sister and her friend, I finally caught her first movements on the screen. I put everything away as I became immersed in her waking limbs—how her eyelids rapidly fluttered against her flushed cheeks, how her small hand rubbed at them until they opened, how she struggled to remove the bindings that had her tucked so close to the wall like a newborn seeking warmth.
Then she ripped back the covers, and the flashback of her naked body hit me like a semi. I actually gasped at the memory.
I held her limp body—one arm braced around her back while the other cupped beneath her legs and placed her on the bed. She looked so peaceful that I was almost afraid to change her clothes for fear of waking her up. My own gentility while handling her surprised me. I set her down and paced the room as I contemplated changing her. Her clothes were folded perfectly at the edge of the bed, taunting me to strip her until every bit of her was available to me. Stripping off her wetsuit revealed an all white string bikini that took on a fluorescent color against the golden tone of her skin. Her body was still slick with water, and her nipples were tiny peaks that threatened to break through the thin fabric.
She couldn’t wake up still in her swimsuit in this cold, damp place. I couldn’t afford for her to get sick; I would just have to contain myself. Taking a seat on the bed beside her, I pulled her body up at the waist so she was half-positioned in my lap. I released her breasts, pulling the string loose and peeling the top over her head. The sight of her rosy pink nipples stirred something within me—my cock hardened and mouth salivated. My body was already prepared to have her, those past few months of watching her was like having endless blue balls. I tried whetting my appetite with fill-ins, but none of them quite scratched the itch that Hailey created. My knuckles brushed against her ribs, capturing the honey smooth feel of her skin. I took a deep breath, trying to calm the erection that urged me to push forward, to take, take, take.
I jerked my hand back as if I’d been stung, before moving to the edge of the bed and pulling off her bottoms as quickly as I could, barely catching a glimpse of her bare pussy with glistening lips that begged me to taste her. She looked freshly waxed, probably for her vacation, and it took everything I had not to sneak a touch to see if her pussy was as soft and smooth as the rest of her. I abstained, shoving her limbs inside the blue pajamas I had picked out, and placing her carefully in the middle of the bed before I cuffed her. My body ached with restraint; maybe I should have taken a cold shower.
I focused my attention back on the monitor that displayed a still-struggling Hailey. She looked to take a big gasp of air before her body stilled. Taking this as my cue to introduce myself, I closed my laptop, put my suit back on, and with a patient gait, walked to her room.
The door creaked open, and laid out, stiff as a board, with tightly pressed eyes, was Hailey. A short chuckle rumbled in my chest at her failure to feign sleep. I couldn’t say that I blamed her—if it were me, which it never would be, I think I’d probably act the same way. I let her have this because we had so much time to be together. A lifetime.
I heard a faint click, almost like the sound of a hotel room door being opened and instinctively shut my eyes. I had no weapon. There was nothing I could use to fight with, and even though I knew in my heart of hearts this was real, somewhere in the back of my mind I was holding onto the small bit of hope that was telling me I could open my eyes again and be at home with Jessa and Adam all bundled up on the couch—my body tucked between them, sharing a throw blanket while watching a movie. Before I even got the chance to dream up popcorn in my daydream, I felt him. I wasn’t entirely sure it was a him, but come on, when was the last time you had heard of a woman being nabbed by another woman? Doesn’t happen.
His breathing was deep and even as he walked the short distance from the door to the bed. Before I closed my eyes, I was able to take in some details of the room I was being held in. The room had no windows, no furniture besides the bed, a small table, and a lamp. There was a door beyond the foot of the bed where the leaky faucet sound came from and another door perched a few feet from where my head lay. The bed might have been a double-sized bed—big enough for two people but still smaller than the one I had at home. Home, with my warm sheets and fluffy pillows. Maybe if I squeezed my eyes tight enough or if I tried closing off my nose to the moldy smell that permeated the air, I might have been able to imagine that I was actually at home, just a couple doors down from Jessa and Adam.
I instinctively tensed. The bed dipped as his weight settled deep into the mattress. I tr
ied willing my body not to roll down the hill leading towards the heat I felt rolling off him in droves.
“Such a pretty girl, aren’t you?” The stranger’s voice was deep and strong. Every word was enunciated clearly, which only seemed to point out the faint, almost nonexistent accent I heard. His hands raked across my head, petting my hair like I was a prized mare. His breath washed across my face, indicating his proximity. It felt like every cell in my body was readying for war, their pitchforks at the helm while my mind tried to calm the troops in an attempt at a ghost attack. I didn’t want him to know I was awake. I hoped he would see me asleep still and leave just as quickly as he came in.
“It took a lot of effort to get you. A lot of time. But you’re worth it, Hailey.” I flinched with the sound of my name on his lips. He knew my name. This man who took me, knew me. He meant to take me. There was no mix-up. This was no accident. He had planned it. I mentally slapped myself for letting the sound of my name betray me by revealing my state of rest, or lack thereof, but he continued petting my hair as if he didn’t just feel me tense up.
His right hand traced the right side of my face from my hairline down to my jaw, to my chin and back up again. It was like he was memorizing the contours of my face. I took notice of his hands. The skin felt firm but un-calloused, his fingers were long and thick, and when I felt his palm against the side of my face, I realized how big his hands were. He could palm my face like a basketball. These hands belonged to an owner that was big and tall, someone that would make me feel small even if I wasn’t chained up in some basement with him, in clothes that weren’t mine.
I could feel the touch of his fingers follow my hair from root to end, brushing across the pillowcase my head rested on. The restraint his large hands held surprised me. They could crush my skull, yet he touched me like I had delicate wings that could dislodge with a simple brush of heavy fingers. The pillow dipped from the added weight he put on his palm, and I felt him. His head pulled close to mine. The air escaping my nose became humid as it was trapped between our faces. With both hands completely removed from any part of me, he paused. For what? I didn’t know. I didn’t know how long I could keep up the ruse of feigning sleep, especially with my heart feeling like it would beat right out of my chest at any moment.
And then his lips met mine—not in a threatening way, but gentle like a first kiss amongst friends. Tentative. Hesitant. Sweet. He kissed me as if he just wanted to know what my lips felt like against his skin. His mouth felt freshly licked with moisture still pressed upon his lips. His kiss was just as gentle as his touch, and for the briefest of moments, I wanted to feel those lips between mine. To touch the thin skin that separated his tongue from mine. It was a crazy thought, one that seemed out of place in this scenario, but something about that kiss made me forget about the room and any reason for my being there. That kiss had the power to make me forget.
That kiss told me a little about the man who captured me, aside from the fact that he was a criminal. He was interested in me, and nothing about that kiss felt like he would torture or rape me. Although, I didn’t want to get ahead of myself—if anything, this was a man in complete control. His lips said it all.
After a few moments of his lips touching mine and me not so much as squirming against his onslaught, he pulled back, removing himself from the bed I was lying on. He stood over me, and with my eyes still closed, I could feel his eyes piercing me for the few breaths he stayed watching me. I heard soft footfalls leading away from the bed back towards the door he entered through, prompting me to open my eyes. I cracked my eyelids open just enough to reveal a blur of the stranger whose kiss lingered on my lips like rolling clouds of a passing storm.
The man was tall, over six feet, with thick dark hair that shined like oil amongst the darkness. My fingers rubbed together as I remembered the feel of oil on my hands, how it clung to my skin and made everything feel softer. I wondered if his hair was as soft.
Before he exited, he flicked on the lamp, allowing me a glimpse of his tanned skin peeking above the collar of his suit that was tailored perfectly to fit his built frame. He paused in the doorway, and I held my breath as if the slightest movement could encourage him to change his mind and do god knows what to me. It must have worked because I heard another click before he left, and the door shut with a loud thud against the frame. I sucked in a lungful of air—my gasping so loud, I was sure he could hear it on the other side of the door. My chest heaved frantically as if the next pull of air could set off an explosion, collapsing everything in its wake.
With the lack of windows, I was unable to gauge what time it was. I remembered going out on a boat, the cool winds blowing stray hairs across my face, the light of the full moon reflected off the still water like liquid silver. Moon—my last memory was at night. I had no idea how long I’d been asleep, but I assumed it had been at least a couple of hours, so it was either still night or early morning.
It could have been minutes or hours, but it wasn’t long before I was resenting the fact that I cowered when he came in the room. I wasn’t ready to know what his plans were for me. Maybe if I tried to convince him that I had family that loved me, that missed me, that people would be looking for me, he would let me go. Tears stung my eyes when I thought of my sister. Did she know I was missing? Was she out there somewhere frantically looking for me? I was scared and alone and missing her more than ever—maybe that would appeal to his sentimental side. I wasn’t naïve enough to think that my tears would appeal to a man like him. He probably got off on them. No, I had to be strong. I had to think of a smart way to convince him to release me, because I didn’t want to think of the alternative.
It’s funny how the mind will continue to attempt something even knowing the outcome already. I spent the better part of my waking hours attempting to escape, toggling between using the fingers of my right hand to pry the cuff open and yanking my left arm with everything I had, hoping the chain would rip free from the wall. It was no use. I knew it was no use. The only space between my wrist and the shackle was due to my wrist bone, barely granting me enough room to squeeze a finger in between my wrist bone and the metal bracelet. Blood began pooling in the skin that broke around the fingernails of my right hand, but I was relentless in my determination. My left wrist was no better. Underneath the cuff, my skin had turned multiple shades of purple, and fine lines of blood danced around the edges of the thick rusted handcuff.
The walls were thick; the only sound able to penetrate the walls was the faint clicking that alerted me to his arrival. With the two-foot chain pulled taut, I rolled over on my right side facing the door so I was closer to the sound. I wanted to be fully prepared the next time he came in.
My eyes blinked open to the soft glow illuminating the shadows of my form on the adjacent wall. I looked over to the small table sitting in the corner of the room. The surrounding walls felt closer with the amber light cascading down the walls, creating the illusion of a sun setting against stormy clouds.
I barely had enough time to adjust to the light when I heard the faint click of the door. I felt like a mouse stunned into submission by the hiss of a snake ready to strike. The stranger looked formidable with his broad shoulders and thick thighs. With tanned olive skin and disheveled short hair, the color of damp soil, he was as striking as he was intimidating. Neither of us blinked as he took a step closer to the bed—his moves graceful with the poise of a man who commanded many. I stared into his beady eyes framed by thick eyebrows naturally arched, creating a permanent inquisitive look on his face.
He was impossibly gorgeous—not someone who needed to abduct women for attention. I could imagine meeting him at a bar, giving him my number, and counting the days until he called. He was a man that girls waited for. If we had met under normal circumstances, I would have fallen for his handsome face and devilish smile, not knowing that his “bad boy” look wasn’t just a look, but was ingrained in every fiber of his being.
He stepped closer with lips pulled up
into a smirk, and I rolled back sinking into the wall. The cold of the concrete bit into my shoulder, making me flinch.
“P-please.” I hated the way the word stumbled from my mouth and the fact that just seeing his face had me pleading, but I needed to be able to say I’d used everything in my arsenal to reason with him about allowing me to leave.
“Sleeping beauty has finally awakened,” he said with a sly grin and something close to a slight bow. The sound of his voice was smooth like warm syrup, sending ripples of warmth down my spine. His words were light. He spoke with no malice or anger, no sign that he was someone who kidnapped people. It threw me off. Instead of thinking about my circumstance, I suddenly found myself thinking about the type of man he was. Was he some serial killer? He certainly had the crazy talk down.
“Stay back. Don't touch me.” I threw my right hand up as if I could physically block his advances. My throat felt tight like rocks had settled against my vocal cords leaving me panting. He took a seat on the bed, and I lunged at him in an attempt to use my full body to attack him. I reached the end of my chain mid-air and splattered across the bed like a bug on a windshield. My legs flung out from beneath me as I tried to shift my body so I could kick him, but he anticipated my move and grabbed at my ankles, crushing them together with a bruising force. He threw one leg over both of mine, pinning me as he shifted our bodies until he was spooning me. With both of his arms banded around my chest, I could feel the tempo of his heart. Despite all of my struggles, the thumping in his chest was as calm as his exterior. In fact, the only rise I seemed to garner was the hefty weight tucked snug against my backside.