by Sophie Stern
I have the feeling that if I let him, and if I please him, that Farwol will make me fly, and that’s kind of fantastic.
“I’ve never been with a man before,” I tell him.
“What about kissing?”
“Never.”
“This is your first time,” he says, and then he touches me. His hands are on the backs of my thighs and I feel his breath against my spine. He presses his lips to me and it just makes me more wet, more anxious. I can feel a need within my core rising. My thighs are slick with desire and he touches me there.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Although, I’m guessing you’ve been with women before,” I add, feeling a little brave, a little curious.
He chuckles in response and moves his hands the rest of the way up my thighs. He settles one hand between my legs and begins to stroke me there. I bite my lip and lose all rational thought at the touch. It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever felt and somehow, I can’t help but wonder why I’ve never done this before.
I never knew it could be like this.
“Don’t move,” he says, and he keeps touching me. Forwal strokes my body over and over and over. I forget everything except his hand on me. All thoughts of my day fade away. I’m not worried about the village anymore. I’m not missing my father. I’m not wondering why he borrowed money from Forwal or why he won’t pay.
All I’m doing is hoping this moment never ends.
My heart soars and my body begins to sing. The feeling starts between my legs but spreads to my core, to my very being.
“That’s it, Evelyn,” Forwal murmurs. “Come now. Come.” He keeps rubbing my body, keeps touching me, and I feel like my entire body explodes with pleasure. I shake, and my vision goes dark. Everything about my world fades away but contentment. Everything vanishes but peace.
Everything disappears except the knowledge that Forwal carried me to this place and he knew exactly what he was doing.
Every goes away but the understanding that I am totally, completely his.
He holds my life in his hands. He can make it hell or he can make it what it is now: pure bliss, pure happiness.
Exhausted, I collapse forward on the bed, but he’s not done with me yet. He’s not finished. Forwal rakes his nails down my sides and over my hips. Then he settles his hands on my bottom and pulls me back toward him. I feel him nudging at my entrance. I feel him pressing there. I’m wet: completely soaked. I’m drenched.
“This will hurt,” he warns, and then he thrusts inside me.
I try not to cry. I try not to tear up or to make noises, but despite the previous pleasure, this intrusion is painful. Forwal holds still, allowing me to get used to his size.
“You’re okay,” he whispers, and he strokes my hair softly. He reaches forward and brushes his fingers over my cheek. They’re wet with my tears, wet with my pain. “Everything is going to be fine, Evelyn.”
After a moment, I become accustomed to him, to the way he fills me. Then he begins to move slowly, carefully inside of me. It’s not uncomfortable anymore. In fact, it feels nice, normal.
And after another minute, it starts to feel really, really good.
It starts to feel incredible.
When Forwal comes, he releases inside of me with a groan. He pulls my hair when he comes, forcing my head back, forcing me to watch him as he orgasms. His own eyes close, but mine are open, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite as exotic or arousing as the look on his face at that moment.
Peace.
It’s a look of peace.
And it’s a look I put on his face.
I did that.
And this feeling is completely wonderful.
Chapter 6
When we’re finished, Forwal climbs into bed and pulls me close to him. We sleep curled up together in his bedroom like lovers instead of strangers. I suppose that’s what we are now: lovers. It’s an unusual feeling, but it’s good.
The next day, he helps me out of bed and hands me a clean dress.
“What’s this?”
“You need clothes,” he says, as if this should have been obvious.
“Thank you,” I whisper, and slide the dress over my head. “What about shoes?” He’s wearing shoes, and my feet feel cold.
“Not for you,” he says.
“Afraid I’ll run away?” I say it with a smile, a little smirk, but he doesn’t think it’s funny. Forwal’s eyes darken and he glares at me. My stomach feels tight and suddenly, I feel like I’ve messed up. I chide myself inwardly. I need to be better than this. I need to remember my place. I need to remember who I am.
Forwal is not my friend.
He is my abductor.
Last night was amazing. It was fantastic, really, and it felt incredible. It felt like I was flying. I’ve never felt that way before and I crave it. I’ve had a taste for what he can offer me and although I’ve given up my old life, I wonder if that’s really such a bad thing.
Instantly, I feel terrible for thinking this.
I should be missing my father, crying for him.
I should be terrified, but I’m not.
I’m not.
“Come.” Forwal beckons for me to follow him and I trot obediently after him as we leave the room. The mansion looks just as intimidating in the daylight as it did at night. Perhaps more so. Dark paintings line the wall. I didn’t notice them before.
“Did you paint these?” I point to the walls.
“No.”
“Did someone make them for you?”
“Yes.”
I bite my tongue and remain quiet as I follow him through the maze of hallways. Eventually, we reach a kitchen, where he introduces me to his household staff members.
“Mrs. Paughts runs the house,” he tells me. A round, smiling older woman steps forward.
“It’s lovely to meet you, my dear,” she says. She takes my hand and smiles at me, and my heart warms. If I had a mother, I imagine she’d be something like Mrs. Paughts.
“The pleasure is mine,” I murmur.
I was convinced the entire mansion was empty, save for me and Forwal. I’m surprised to discover over a dozen household staff members, and I struggle to remember their names.
Once the introductions are complete, Forwal turns to his staff.
“She’s not allowed outside,” he says.
“Yes, Master,” the staff murmurs in unison, and I frown. I’m not allowed to go outside? Why on Earth not? It’s not like I have anywhere to go, anything to return to. It’s not like I have anything waiting for me.
We leave the kitchen and as soon as we’re out of hearing distance, I take Forwal’s hand and squeeze it.
He looks down at my hand, as if he can’t quite believe that I’m touching him. He doesn’t get angry, but he is obviously very surprised by the gesture.
“What do you want, Evelyn?” He asks me.
“I…I can’t go outside?”
“No. You may not go outside.”
“But why not?”
He sighs and brushes back a lock of my hair. Then he brings me close to himself and holds me for a long minute.
“I don’t know if I can trust you,” he says finally.
“I haven’t run yet. There were plenty of chances last night, sir.”
“You were in shock, and I had someone watching you. You wouldn’t have gotten very far, darling, even if you had tried to run.”
“I won’t run.”
“The woods are dangerous,” his eyes darken, and he shakes his head. “You have no idea what lurks there, and you must never know.”
I search his face, trying to discover the truth. Surely there must be some there, lurking beneath the surface, but when I stare at Forwal, I only have more questions.
Why has he brought me here?
What does he want from me?
What debt does my father owe him?
Will the debt ever be repaid?
And what must I do to repay him?
These questi
ons whirl around in my head, threatening to overtake me. Forwal seems to notice my sudden distress, because he pulls me close to himself and holds me tightly, quietly, for a long minute.
Eventually, my breathing slows, and I calm down. I’m okay. I’m fine. Everything is going to be all right.
“Evelyn,” he says slowly, but I shake my head.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” he lifts my chin with one finger and looks at me. His eyes search mine, and he finally sighs. “I wish I could tell you that you’re safe here,” he whispers. He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t have to.
We both know I’m not safe.
I won’t ever be safe again.
After a minute, he releases me from his hold and guides me deeper into the mansion. He opens the door to a new room and motions for me to go in. I hesitate for just a second, but then I steel myself. It can’t be as bad as the dungeon room. It just can’t be. I walk ahead and what I see takes my breath away.
A library.
He’s got a library.
I turn around and look at him.
“How?”
“How what?”
“You have so many books in here. Have you read them all?”
“Not all of them. Quite a few. I have a lifetime to work on them, though. Go ahead,” he motions toward a chair and I go take a seat. He plucks a book from a shelf and carries it to me. “Have you read this one?”
“No.”
“Read it,” he says. “I’ll return for you in an hour.”
He leaves the room and closes the door. For a minute, I think I’ll be free to roam the mansion, but then I hear the click of the door locking, and I am a prisoner once more.
Chapter 7
Forwal returns for me later. I don’t have a timepiece, so I have no way of telling exactly how long it took for him to come back. I do know that I read four chapters of the story. At one point, someone dropped off food for me, which I instantly devoured. Apparently, being kidnapped hasn’t doused my appetite.
“Interesting?” Forwal nods toward the book.
I hold it up to him. “Yes. Very.”
“Which part are you at?”
“The part with the sailor,” I chuckle quietly. “And the monkey.”
“Ah, yes,” Forwal smiles slightly, and I realize he’s not only read this book before, but also enjoyed it. Is this one of his favorites? Is this his way of letting me into his life a little bit?
Just as instantly as his smile appeared, it vanishes, and he takes me by the arm.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“To my room.”
“But…it’s daytime,” I try to stall.
“Quiet,” he snaps, his good mood gone. I’m dismal and quiet as we return to his bedroom. We pass a few people on the way, but each person averts their eyes when they see me. They’re all obviously completely loyal to Forwal. They’re completely devoted to him.
Even if I wanted to run away, which I don’t, I wouldn’t be able to.
One of them would catch me, or tell on me, and I have a feeling I wouldn’t enjoy the punishment Forwal deemed necessary.
He isn’t the type of person I want to make mad. I don’t want to upset him. I’ve seen firsthand exactly what he can do, although I still don’t know what my father owed him for. Why did Papa borrow money from this man? Why did Papa go to Forwal? I know many people owe him debts, but I will never understand why they decided to ask him for money in the first place.
They should have known what kind of a man he was.
They should have known he was a monster.
When we reach Forwal’s room, he steps aside so I can enter first. This is something I’m slowly becoming accustomed to. He opens a door and I go through it, and then he follows. I don’t know if it’s good manners or if he’s simply controlling me little by little.
I turn to him, and he closes the door. Then he locks it.
“What happens now?” I ask quietly.
“You know what happens, Evelyn.” He motions for me to take off my dress, and slowly, I remove it. I’m not sad or scared to be here right now. I’m more curious than anything else.
I have the feeling that I’m being given a unique opportunity to find out who Forwal really is: not who he pretends to be when everyone else is watching. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’s dark and twisted inside. No one could steal a woman without being a little messed up in the head, but there’s more to him than just that.
What?
And how can I access this part of him no one else seems to be able to?
I toss my dress on the floor, but he shakes his head.
“You should take better care of your things,” he says. “That was a gift. Pick up your dress, Evelyn.”
He’s talking to me like I’m a petulant child and while I find it slightly embarrassing, I don’t think he’s being mean. The dress is obviously expensive, and shouldn’t be on the floor. I pick it up and place it carefully on a nearby chair. He nods.
“Better,” Forwal says. “Now kneel before me.”
I know what he’s going to make me do even before we begin. I’ve never done this before, but girls always whisper about such things. I know what happens, and although I have no experience with it, I’m not afraid.
He quietly unbuttons his shirt and sets it aside. His shoes, socks, and pants follow. Finally, he removes his undergarments, and that’s when I see him fully nude before me.
I lick my lips, and he chuckles.
“You’re excited, and curious,” he notes, and I nod.
“I’ve never…”
“Obviously. That’s all right. Come here.”
I scoot forward on my knees, and this pleases him. He pets my hair gently.
“Such a sweet girl,” he murmurs, and for just a second, I wonder if that’s a hint of regret I hear in his voice. It can’t be because Forwal is the kind of man who doesn’t have regrets. He doesn’t hold back. He takes what he wants, when he wants, how he wants.
He’s not thinking twice about what he’s going to do to me.
He’s just doing it.
There’s a part of me that loves this, and I know that’s wrong. I should be fighting him. I should be trying to escape. I should be looking for ways I can run away, but I’m not. I’m not doing anything. I’m just accepting my fate.
And what does that say about me?
It says I’m messed up.
Weak.
It says there’s something about me so dark, so twisted, that I like the way he’s looking at me. I like what he’s doing to me. I like that he’s forcing me to be this way for him.
I look up at him, and he nods, almost imperceptibly, but I notice. I stare at his length for a long minute. Now that it’s up close, I’m nervous, but I shouldn’t be. Plenty of women before me have done this. I can do it now. How difficult could it actually be?
Slowly, I lean forward and stick my tongue out. I swirl it around the edge of his cock. He sucks in a breath, and I know I’m on the right track. I keep my eyes open so I can see what I’m doing, and I slowly start to lick up and down each side of him.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, and I feel happy, content, that he offered such a genuine compliment. A rush of satisfaction rushes through me as I realize that all those little noises he’s making are because of me. He’s groaning because of me. He’s moaning, hissing, because of what I am doing to him.
That feels good, and I keep going.
Slowly, I tease his body. I reach up and grasp his balls as I slide his cock down my throat. He moans again, louder this time, and I keep going. Each sound he makes excites me more and more, and I am thrust into the realization that this is who I am.
This is the type of girl I am.
This is the type of woman I am.
I’m not just the butcher’s daughter.
I’m not just some kidnapped damsel.
I’m more than that, and I’m proving it right now.
Whe
n Forwal releases into my mouth, he pulls my hair.
“Swallow,” he commands. I didn’t realize there was any other option, but I obey, just the same. I do as he asks of me, as he wills, as he desires.
When he’s finished, he looks down at me for a long time. What thoughts are running through that pretty head of his? Is he happy he decided to take me? Is he trying to decide if he’ll keep me?
I don’t know what happens to Forwal’s women once he gets bored of them, once he gets tired of them. I know without asking I’m not the first woman he’s taken. I don’t think I’ll be the last.
And I don’t think he’ll free me.
I should be trying to escape, but I don’t have it in me.
There’s something about him that’s not what it seems, and something tells me I’ve only scratched the surface.
Chapter 8
After a few days in the library, Forwal lets me roam the house. After that, I spend each day exploring the mansion. I stay far away from the dungeon; I already know what secrets that particular room holds. The rest of the house proves to be far more interesting, anyway. There is an entire room full of paintings on the third floor and on the fourth, there’s a room with a giant dollhouse. I could stay here forever, I realize, and I probably will.
A week passes quickly. Forwal goes off during the day and I don’t see him again until after supper. The household staff and I fall into a sort of comfortable companionship. They leave me alone, for the most part, and I stay out of their ways. I might be Forwal’s toy, but I don’t want to be a burden on the people he actually employs, assuming he didn’t kidnap them, as well.
I don’t miss my father as much as I should, I realize one day. I don’t miss the village as much as an ordinary person would miss her home. I haven’t spent much time crying and I haven’t spent much time thinking about the people I know.
I haven’t wondered if they’ve thought of me.
I haven’t wondered if they’ve missed me.
And then, one night, after Forwal and I climb into bed together tired, sweaty, and exhausted, I ask him the one thing I have been curious about all this time.