by Amy Faye
I should just call Uncle Todd. He’d tell me, no problem. But I can’t get anyone else involved in this mess. I don’t want someone showing up at his place with a pistol pointed up his nose, like it was at mine. And I don’t want him to react the way I know he would. Even if he made it out alive, I don’t think he’d have an easy time explaining why strangers showed up at his place with a gun and he killed them dead.
“There,” I say, pointing. It’s a halfway memory, but it’s going to have to do. “I know that ferris wheel. I think you have to go north from here.”
Ben must have heard the uncertainty in my voice. I didn’t make any effort whatsoever to hide it, and he’s perceptive even when he’s not reading my mind. If there ever is a time that he’s not.
But if he has any doubts, he doesn’t show it. He eases the car over and starts onto the exit ramp before I could even say ‘wait, that’s not it’ if I wanted to.
But as we pull off it looks a little more familiar. As we move north, it continues looking familiar. More and more as time goes on. We pass the ferris wheel, which is built into a tiny little carnival out back of a country store. At least, it fashions itself as a country store. It’s way too big for a typical country store.
The road winds a bit, and we pass an auction house, on the edge of a larger community. The roads get more crowded, more and more lined with buildings, and then they start to disperse again.
“Up here,” I say after we’ve been driving for a little while in the desolation of a whole lot of nothing. Tall evergreens surround us on every side. “On the right, I think, there’s a road.”
I’m not wrong. There is a road, up ahead. It’s on the right, just like I thought. But I remembered it as a fairly visible, fairly built-up thing. What we find instead is a dirt road that jags off of the main entrance. It splits in two, with a heavy gate across the right path. We take the left.
“Does this look right?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I guess.”
We continue a long way. The road snakes and goes up a hill, and down the other side. Off the dip, there’s another fork. I can see one terminates in a house that I’ve seen before. But I don’t know it, not like I would know my uncle’s place.
“Keep going,” I say. We keep going along the other road. It continues to wind, and occasionally branches off into other houses. We keep passing them. I’ve seen them before, and it makes me feel more and more confident that we’re in the right place. I just don’t know how much longer we’re going to have to go before we hit the place I’m looking for.
“There,” I say suddenly. He pulls hard on the van’s wheel and we go down another long hill. It terminates in a wide open area. The air here is damp and warm, compared to home. But it’s still not something I’d want to be in without a coat, and luckily, that’s exactly what I don’t have, thanks to our quick exit.
“You’re sure?”
“As sure as I can be,” I say. I try to sound more sure than I feel.
“Okay. And what are the odds that there’s someone in there?”
“Not zero.”
“Got it,” he says. “Then go and knock first. Give it a minute or two, and then we’ll get ourselves in if nobody answers the door.”
I’m cold, but I do what I’m told. I don’t have much choice. But he doesn’t make me, and I can tell that. That, at least, is good.
“Wish me luck,” I mutter, and slide the van door open. There’s no snow on the ground, at least. That’s good. I walk up to the door, crossing my arms to shield against the cold, and then knock hard. Thirty seconds pass. There’s no sound from inside. I knock again, harder. I wait. No sign that anyone’s heard anything.
I turn back to the car and shrug in a broad motion. The driver door of the van opens, but the engine doesn’t cut out. Ben steps out and walks up to the door, and knocks. Silence.
“I guess nobody’s home,” he says. Then he takes a firm grip on the knob, and turns it hard. I hear the sound of metal rattling for an instant, and then it turns in his hand. He pulls the door open and it slides open easily. “After you.”
I look at him hard for a moment. But only a moment. Then I step inside, and a moment later, I’m joined by Ben and Sarah. He closes the door again and locks it with the deadbolt.
“Should’ve used it the first time,” he says. “But hey. Small favors, right?”
Twelve
I let out a breath and laid down on one of the beds. It was a large place. For a vacation home, it was especially large. Everyone could have their own bedroom, which was something, at least.
I closed my eyes and imagined going to sleep. Everything that had been happening was so exhausting. But I’d been sleeping so much that it seemed pointless. I would just get a few minutes, and then I’d be back to the waking world.
The tiredness wasn’t the kind that sleep was going to cure. I was tired down to my soul, deep in my gut. My eyes closed and I forced myself to calm down. It’s fine. It has to be fine. I don’t have much else choice but for it to be fine. If I tried to insist it wasn’t, all I’d be doing was throwing a temper tantrum.
There’s a knock at the door. I sit up.
“Who is it?”
“I’m coming in.” It was Ben’s voice. He didn’t leave a question and in spite of myself, I didn’t particularly want to stop him. It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t invited him in this time. I don’t know the rules, if there are any.
The door to my room, or at least the room I was occupying, swung open. Ben stepped through the door.
“What are you up to in here?”
“Just laying down,” I say. “I’m tired.”
“Must be tiring,” he says. “On the run like this.”
“There’s no way around it. In for a penny, in for a pound.”
“You don’t say? It’s interesting you should say that.”
“Why?”
“Because I was giving it some thought about what’s been happening lately.”
“Oh?”
“The timing of it. It’s interesting.”
“I’m not sure I’m understanding.”
He doesn’t believe me. I can see it on his face. I don’t think I can blame him. I wouldn’t believe me either. Not when you consider how direct he’s being about the accusation.
“No?”
“Are you saying that you think I brought those people here?”
“Are you denying it?”
I stand up. My heart’s thumping hard in my chest. “Of course I deny it!”
His lips purse. “We’ll see.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Strip,” he says. My limbs move automatically, but only for an instant. I stop myself easily.
“Why?”
“You’ll understand later. For now, just do it.”
“And if I do this, you’ll accept that I’m innocent?”
“Of course,” he says. His voice is low and rough. “I’ll always give you a chance to prove yourself to me. And that’s exactly what I’m doing now. Strip.”
I do. Not because he makes me, though I can’t explain the giddy feeling I get in my gut when I do what I’m told. I should be in better control of myself. This ought to be humiliating. But I’m not humiliated, ashamed, or even a little embarrassed. Not by the nudity and not by the fact that I’m following instructions like a trained puppy.
I can feel his eyes on me. If this were any other man who looked and acted like Ben, I would be positively giddy. A week ago, it would have felt normal. To get a man’s attention like this, to have his eyes on me like Ben’s eyes are now. Looking at me hard and close. Wanting me.
And yet, the fact that I feel this way now is almost disturbing. Knowing what he is ought to make a difference. It doesn’t.
“You’re very obedient,” he says.
“Thank you.”
He lets out a sigh and runs a rough, weathered thumb along my jaw. “But it’s like you said. In for a penny, in for a pound
. How do I know that you’re not being obedient because you need me to trust you?”
“I wouldn’t do that,” I say. “You know that. You can read my mind.”
“You wouldn’t be the first person to figure out a trick to get around that. Maybe it’s hypnosis. Like you said. Maybe you let yourself get hypnotized into believing that you’re legitimate. Maybe it’s all a big vampire trap. And then you’ve got a post-hypnotic suggestion. You call, and someone shows up. You might not even realize that you’re doing it.”
“When could I have…”
“There’s always time that nobody’s watching. Always time that you could have done it, if that was what you wanted to do.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to understand. Just accept it. You wanted to get through, and you did. Or, you certainly could have.”
“I didn’t, though.”
“You wouldn’t have to know, now, that you’d done it. It’s a trap. You’re bait. The person inside you that’s an active participant was buried, and all that’s left is the bait.”
“I promise, I didn’t do anything like that. You don’t have to be mad.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” His thumb traces up my jaw again. He stares into my eyes. “I’m not angry with you. I’m sure that you didn’t mean to do anything. But I have to be sure that you really didn’t.”
“What can I do?”
“I’m going to peel back the layers,” he says. “I’m going to have a look at you. Deep down. And if I like what I see, then you’ll be rewarded for your faith. If I don’t, then… well, you won’t like what happens. But I promise that I’ll try to make it as painless as possible for you. You don’t know what you did, after all. I know that.”
“But I didn’t do anything,” I protest. His hand drops away from my face, his thick fingers pinching a nipple. It grows painfully hard in the space of an instant, and I realize suddenly that it’s just a little bit cold in here. Just cold enough that standing in the nude isn’t a good idea. I’m just going to get colder and colder at this rate.
“I know you think that, darling. I just wish I could believe it.”
“Then just believe it,” I plead. He lets out a long breath.
“I wish I could. But for now, I need you to bend over.”
I do. I don’t want to piss him off. I wish that I could say that fear is the only thing motivating me, though. I wish that it wasn’t also something hard-coded in me, deep down.
“If you really did nothing wrong,” he starts, and then takes a deep breath. “Then I’m sorry for this. But I have to be certain. I can’t afford to let my wives’ deaths go unpunished. And if that means that you suffer for it, then I’m sorry, but it must be done.”
“Please,” I say softly. I squirm. I feel impossibly vulnerable in this position. And yet, I want it. I know that I shouldn’t, but I do. “Don’t hurt me.”
“I do what I do out of love,” he says. His hand runs along my ass. It’s cool, but compared to the cold air, it burns. It traces a cold burn across my tight flesh, wherever his fingers touch raising goosebumps.
“I promise, I didn’t do anything.”
His hand withdraws. “We’ll see, then, won’t we?”
And then my ass explodes in hot, raw pain.
Thirteen
Ben’s hand comes down hard on my ass. The popping sound echoes through the room, fills my ears. I shiver hard.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” I groan. My ass hurts, but I don’t dare reach back to rub it. There’s a moment where I think that maybe he’s going to talk more. Maybe there’s going to be a pause. But he doesn’t.
Another slap comes down. It’s as hard as the first. I can’t imagine that it hurts as much as the switch would, but given that he doesn’t have a switch with him, I think it does just fine as far as he’s concerned. And that’s pretty much the worst situation possible, for me.
I shiver, my hips and my ass feeling raw and pained already, after only a pair of slaps. A third comes down. The first two made sure to get wide coverage of my whole butt; the third is the first time that he hits the same place twice.
My mind blanks out, and my entire body tenses up in the aftermath of the pain.
And I feel something else. A tingling that’s starting in my groin, and spreading outward from there. The tension building up in my stomach is familiar, and almost completely wrong for the situation. I should be in pain, and trying like hell to avoid it. Not getting aroused.
“I don’t know what you want!” Another slap. Every one echoes through the building, like he’s clapping his hands. The clapping gets faster as he moves faster. If he’s having trouble keeping up the force without time to wind up, he’s not making any sign of it. Slap! Slap! Slap!
My head goes blank. I don’t know what he wants from me, but the words won’t come any more, no matter how hard I try to say them. The only thing that’ll come out of my mouth are reflexive yelps of pain and a low rumbling groan.
“Now, are you still feeling argumentative?”
My only answer is to moan out: “Ughhh.”
I can almost hear the smile on his face. His hands trace a gentle line across my raw flesh with the tip of his fingernails. I can feel my lips twitching down below.
“Now, I need to drink a little bit from you again. Is that going to be a problem? Are you going to try to stop me?”
I shake my head. Whatever he wants from me, he’s going to get it. I couldn’t fight him if he told me he was going to violate me with a baseball bat, but I’m craving the relaxed calm that comes over me when he drinks. I need it, to dull the pain.
Ben’s hand grasps around my shoulder and he pulls me up. I stand without thinking about it, without really being able to stop myself even if I wanted to. My head spins and I smile weakly.
Then his head ducks and he presses a kiss against my neck. It deepens, and then I feel his teeth, sinking into my flesh. It’s sensitive there, too. My ass is paddled raw, but the rest of me feels just as sensitive, like he’s been spanking every solitary inch of me.
I feel the blood moving inside me. It’s wrong and disturbing but at the same time, it feels so good. I know that it’s some chemical thing. He’s doing this to me, not the fact that I’m being bitten itself. And I love it.
He looks at me, hard. “Is there anything you want to tell me, Hailey?”
My head is swimming. “I want to feel good,” I say, without really thinking about it. The words come out automatically, all on their own.
“What did you do? Did you have anything to do with the hunters who came around here? Were they looking for you? Did you lead them?”
“I’m afraid of them.” I don’t disagree with the words. They describe my situation well, and if I had to say something, it’s what I’d say. But I feel like a ventriloquist dummy. My mouth moves, and words come out, but I didn’t will them there. My head is so foggy that I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it. So I do nothing. “One of them tried to shoot me.”
“Oh? Tried to shoot you?”
“He had a gun. He was… he was looking for you.”
“And how did he find the house?”
“I, uh… Iunno.” The words are coming out increasingly slurred. As he questions me, his fingernails rake up and down my skin gently, leaving lines behind that last only a millisecond before they’re gone again.
“You’re certain? You know nothing?”
My head shakes. “I’m sorry.”
He takes a deep breath, and then lets it out slowly. “Bend over.”
He lets go of me, and I do. I can’t tell what is my own choice and what he’s doing to me any more, and I’m getting to the point where I don’t particularly care either way.
“Have I been good?”
“You’ve been very good,” he says. Ben rubs something on his fingers. They meet my flesh and start rubbing a small, tight circle around my… I jump.
“No not there.” The words are a reflex as
much as they are any thought in my head.
“Relax,” he says. There’s a tone in his voice that makes me calm down. I lay down on the bed. “You’re going to enjoy this, trust me.”
“No,” I say. “It hurt the last time.”
“Last time wasn’t with me.” Ben seems to have all the answers. There’s probably a response to that, but I can’t think of it.
“Promise it won’t hurt?”
“It’ll feel very good. You’ll love it.”
His fingers pull away. It did feel good, I realize, only after losing the sensation. I was in so much pain that I couldn’t even tell the difference. Once it goes, though, I can tell that it feels worse than it had before. I let out a little whimper.
“Only a moment,” Ben says. When palm presses against my bottom again, and his fingers start circling my ass again, he’s got more of the slippery wetness on them.
“I’m scared,” I say.
“You’ll be just fine,” he says. The tip of a finger slips in, and I gasp. Jesus. It’s barely anything at all, and I feel full. Impossibly full. How could he possibly fit inside?
His finger eases in deeper. Deeper. Every extra inch is a mile, and every little movement sends a sensory overload through my body. My entire brain starts to lose itself again, like it had with pain, but this time it screamed out in pleasure. I wanted it. I wanted more than just this, even. I could feel my hips moving back to press into his hand, hoping that it would get me just that little bit more pleasure.
“You see?” His voice was low and husky. “I told you that you would enjoy it.”
“I’m sorry I doubted you,” I groan. My hips push back harder, but it doesn’t earn me anything. His finger starts to slip back out. It feels like I’m losing a part of me.
“I’m adding a second finger,” he says. Something drizzles onto my skin. Something cold and wet. He rubs against it, and then something else probes against my rear entrance. My body tightens on its own, and then…
“Relax,” Ben says softly. “It’ll only hurt if you don’t relax.”
“Yes sir,” I mumble. I try to relax my body, but it doesn’t work. It’s as tight as a drum, and I can’t loosen it up no matter what I do.