by Naomi West
“Zed?” she asked, her mouth dry and her throat scratchy. “What are you doing?”
“We're at your house,” he said, his voice as devoid of emotion as hers had been earlier.
“I've given it some thought,” Abby said, as she realized how far gone he was, “And I think I could take your complaints directly to the board of directors, Zed.”
She knew she was grasping at straws, but maybe he'd believe her.
He just shook his head and barked out a short burst of hard laughter. “Yeah, lady, don't try to bullshit me. Besides, we're way past that point.” He got out of the car before she could reply, slamming the door shut behind him.
She looked around, knowing that she had to move. She had to react. She tried to get out of the car, but realized the seat belt was still across her, locking her in place. She reached down, unsnapped the belt, and went to get out of the car. She had to get away from this man.
Zed came around to her side, a frightening glower painted on his face, and threw open the passenger side door the rest of the way, ripping it from her hands.
Frightened, she tried to backpedal to get away from him.
He grabbed her arm, though, and turned, pulling her along to the house.
She tried to fight him, but her reaction time was so slow that she couldn't even figure out what was going on. Distantly, she knew she had to get away, but she couldn't decide what her first plan of action should be. Besides that, his hands and his pull were so strong that there was nothing she could do.
As her vision blurred and her eyes unfocused, she stumbled a little. That's when she realized she was drugged. He must have found the injectable sedative she carried in her purse.
“People like you,” Zed said, as he dragged her around the car and up to the door leading into the house, “you're all the same. You think you can just brush aside the little people when they become inconvenient. Think your suits and your money protect you, up in your high castles. I saw how afraid your employees were of you, but I'm not, Abby. I'm not at all.”
“What—”
“Don't,” he spat, as he dragged her into the house and locked the door behind them. “Just don't. You have to listen now. I get to speak now for all the lives you've ruined. Not just my brother's, but every other person who ever had a complication from a medication, then was just swept under the rug by your legal department—by every fucking legal department out.”
She walked in a daze. She could feel how tightly his hand gripped her forearm and knew that she was going to have bruises from how hard he was squeezing her. But she was numb to it, like she was looking at someone on TV, in a dramatic movie of the week.
He pulled her through the mud room and out into the kitchen. “I'm going to show you what your medication causes and make you realize what it did to Kai. You're going to feel every ounce of the burning in his brain that he described to me and his wife, and you'll be begging for me to make it stop by the end.”
“Zed, I—”
“Shut up!” he shouted, as he dragged her out of the kitchen and into the den. Her house had suddenly become a prison.
She flinched back from his voice, terrified she'd anger him into doing something more violent.
He spun on her as they reached the middle of the room. “Now, strip,” he growled. “All your clothes. Now. Take them off.”
She'd never had a man speak to her this way or try to command her in this manner. Abby's lower lip trembled as she looked into his blazing eyes, seeing how terrifyingly alive they were. She knew with one look into those burning orbs that he was capable of anything.
Abby knew she needed to run and take her chances on an escape.
But even though she was still drugged and woozy from hitting her head, something inside her told her she needed to stay. In business, and in life, men had been trying to break her one way or another for her whole life. Zed Hesse wasn't any different. He just happened to have a gun.
She looked at him, her mother's spirit of defiance and willingness to buck tradition boiling inside her as she willed her quivering lower lip to stop its betrayal. She lifted her chin, looked him in the eye, took a deep breath, and began to strip.
Who did this man think he was, anyway?
# # #
Zed
He'd break her. He knew how it was done from his time overseas. He'd heard the not-so-muffled whispers. He'd strip her of her humanity and fill her with monsters and dread she'd never be able to leave behind.
She just looked at him with that stiff upper lip, though, and those big blue eyes of hers, daring him as she reached behind her and unzipped the top of her dress. She shrugged out of her white dress, baring first one creamy, smooth shoulder, then the other, revealing black bra straps as she went. Soon, she shimmied the dress down her body, showing him her lacy black bra and her toned stomach.
It had been a long time since Zed had been with a woman. Too long. Certainly longer than he liked to admit, even to himself. Zed swallowed hard, his eyes ravishing her body as she revealed more skin to him. He could feel himself getting hard, and he had to readjust his length, tucking it down inside his pant leg.
The dress reached her hips and, with her eyes still on his face, she pushed it down over their swell. Her dress dropped to her feet in a pool of fabric, leaving her just standing there in high heels, black thigh highs, her black bra, and matching panties. She lifted her chin higher, sticking it out at him, to show him she'd be hard to break.
It was cute that she was fooling herself this way. “The rest of it,” he barked. “Now. All of it.”
She lowered her gaze and glowered at him from beneath her brow as she reached up behind her back and unsnapped her bra. She pulled down the straps and removed her bra. She went to cover herself, but he batted her hand away.
“No,” he spat. “You're nothing. You don't get to cover up. Now, the rest of it.” He took in her full breasts, and the way they rode high on her chest. They were small, but they fit her frame perfectly.
She gritted her teeth and clenched her jaw, but she complied. She hooked her thumbs in her panties and pulled them down, revealing a little patch of near-gold between her legs.
“Curtains match the carpet, huh?” he asked.
She didn't answer, she just stepped out of her panties, her eyes locked on his.
He just sniffed at her and stepped closer.
She sucked in a breath and backtracked one step.
“This'll be worse if you try to run,” Zed breathed as his hands came up. “Remember, I don't care about hurting you. If you upset me, I'll make my displeasure known.”
She stayed still after his words. Her chin remained out, daring him to try and tear her down, but her whole body trembled in fear as she waited to see what he'd do.
Zed brought a big, callused hand up. He cupped her breast, weighed it beneath his hand, and brushed a thumb over the nipple.
She sucked in a breath, and Zed watched, feeling her nipples stiffen beneath the pad of his thumb.
He ran a hand over her arms, her smooth skin, then over her stomach as he kept watch on her eyes. He took her length and measure with his hands and eyes, walking around behind her.
Her breath was coming faster, probably from fear. He ran a hand over her lower back, down to her ass, which was pushed out from the heels she still wore. He squeezed her cheek hard, eliciting a surprised grunt of pain from her. He squeezed harder, appreciating how firm but how soft and yielding she was.
“Stay,” he said into her ear, his voice barely above a whisper. “If you move one inch, I will hurt you. Do you understand?”
She nodded slightly.
“I said, do you understand me?”
She nodded more fervently. “Yes sir,” she said.
“Good.”
He turned and went back into the kitchen, headed for the mud room. He'd seen a dog collar and a chromed chain leash hanging there, but hadn't seen or heard the dog it belonged to since arriving. Also, on a shelf full of odds and ends,
he'd seen some floral printed duct tape. He pulled both items down and headed back to the living room. On the way back, he took his suit jacket off and tossed it on a coat hook.
She hadn't moved an inch.
Collar and duct tape in hand, he walked back into the room. “Put your hair up,” he barked.
She looked at him, confused, then down at the dog collar and tape in one hand. She shook her head.
His hand shot out and grabbed her by the chin, squeezing her cheeks together. He leaned in and looked into her eyes. “Did I tell you to look at the collar or shake your head 'no?'” he growled. “Or did I tell you to lift your hair?”
“To lift my hair,” she said, a little whine of fear entering her voice.
“Good,” he said, releasing her. “Now do it.”
A visible shiver went through her body as she lifted her hair up and piled it around the back of her head. She closed her eyes, which he hadn’t ordered, but Zed let it slide this time.
He undid the collar and slipped it around her neck, letting the cold metal drop down between her breasts. “Where's the dog?” he asked.
“It's for when I dog-sit for my assistant,” she said quickly and honestly, her eyes open again.
He nodded, saying, “If you fight this, it'll just be worse. First, I'll make it hurt. Then, if you still won't walk, I'll make you crawl. And if you won't crawl, I'll drag you along the carpet. Do you understand me?”
She nodded again.
“Come on, then,” he said, then headed for the back of the house. He dragged her behind him, yanking hard on the leash.
She stumbled forward on her heels at the sudden jerk of the chain leash on her neck, and went crashing to the ground with a surprised scream.
Zed stopped in his tracks and turned around, lead firmly gripped in his hand. “Get up,” he said disdainfully, tugging at the chain.
She got to her hands and knees and looked up at him through her mussed bangs, her eyes shooting daggers his direction.
He couldn't help but think it was quite fetching, seeing her down on all fours like this. But, he reminded himself, that wasn't why he was here. He was here to demean and break her, not enjoy this for himself, no matter how tempting that was after his long drought. “Get up!” he shouted again.
She slowly rose to her feet, a look of resentment mixed with fear in her eyes. Her wobbling lip had returned, her chin wasn't as highly held as before, and her knees were scuffed and bright red with rug burn. She came along with him, though, trudging behind him as he headed back to her bedroom.
“Which room is yours?” he asked, as wrapped the chain around his hand a second time, tightening his grip on it. There was no way she was going to get away from him. Not till he was done with her, at least.
“What are you going to do to me?” she whimpered.
He whipped around. “What did you say to me?”
“I-I-I asked what you were going to do to me.”
“And I asked,” he said, as he slowly wrapped the chain leash tighter around his hand, dragging her closer with each shortening of the leash, till his hand was right at her throat, directing her face up to his, “Which room is your bedroom.”
She whimpered again and averted her eyes, that lower lip quivering like a leaf in the wind. “Last door on the right,” she said, her voice barely audible.
“Good,” he said, dropping the chain and letting it flow off his hand, back to its normal length. He turned and pulled her along, more gently this time. He strode down the hall, forcing her to keep up behind him in just her thigh highs and heels. He threw open the door and went inside.
The center of the room was dominated by a giant four-poster bed made from heavy, durable wood. The comforter looked thick, inviting, and expensive. The drapes were open, letting the light in, and allowing them to look out over Abby's backyard.
She'd done pretty well for herself over the years, Zed mused. No wonder she'd been so firm with him back in the parking garage. She was used to being successful and to having the world start, stop, and form holding patterns around her. Things were going to change, of course. Maybe he was getting that through to her already.
“On the bed,” he said, the his tone almost conversational.
She went and climbed onto the bed, her eyes big and wide and afraid as she lay back on it.
He took the leash end he'd been holding and wrapped it around the post, tying a simple knot. It wouldn't keep her from going anywhere. That's what the duct tape was for. He grabbed it, pulled off a long strip, tore it with his teeth, and set the roll on the nightstand.
“Hands,” he said. “Up, up, up, over your head.”
She bit her lower lip, but complied.
He wrapped the duct tape around her wrists, binding them tightly. “Don't struggle,” he said. “You won't like to see what happens when you struggle.”
She nodded, closing her eyes.
Maybe she was trying to pretend this wasn't happening, he mused. That this was all a dream. It didn't matter what she thought it was, though, or whether she believed it was real. It was, on all counts. He unbuckled his belt and undid the hooks on his slacks.
She opened her eyes and glanced to where his hands were unzipping his slacks. She went to say something, but stopped.
“What?” he asked. “You can speak.”
“Are . . . are you going to rape me?”
“No,” he said flatly, as he fished inside his slacks and briefs, pulling out his hard cock.
She gasped when she saw him exposed like that, but he just ignored her.
He crawled on top of her, his cock poking first into the tangled golden curls of her pubic mound, then into the soft skin of her belly. He looked down into her frightened eyes, her pupils dilating as they stared back into his. He reached down between them and began to stroke his thick length.
“You're nothing,” he repeated, his words devoid of emotion as he lay on top of her, stroking himself. “Nothing. Do you know that?”
She didn't answer him, but he didn't care. He was somehow enjoying himself. He didn't know why, either. This wasn't the kind of thing that really floated his boat.
“Please,” Abby started to say, “please, don't—”
He slapped his free hand over mouth, muffling her words, as he continued to stroke himself to completion. He was already close, and his hips were moving as he pumped into his hand.
“You're nothing,” he repeated, his eyes still locked with hers.
She moaned against his hand as he sped up, as his balls tightened against his shaft.
He thrust harder into his hand, moaning as he used her body as some sexual pedestal.
She was liking this, he realized, as he felt her lips and the tip of her tongue brush against the palm of his hand, just like a light kiss.
He threw his head back a little, grunting low in his chest as he emptied his seed onto her belly, a brief bout of pleasure filling his mind and body. He groaned as he continued to cum on her, covering her.
As he came, she moaned again, louder this time. Her eyes stayed tightly closed, her head gently shaking as if she couldn't admit to herself that she was enjoying her punishment.
He removed his hand and climbed off of her, fighting to remind himself that he wasn't supposed to enjoy her punishment, either.
This wasn't about sexual gratification for him. At least, it wasn't supposed to be. This was about getting revenge, plain and simple, for what Pharma-Vitae did to Kai. He tucked his still-dripping, half-hard cock back in his pants and grabbed the duct tape off the nightstand.
She looked up at him, her eyes like saucers, as he stripped more tape from the roll. He put some over her mouth, to a soft, whimpering protest, then grabbed her ankles and wrapped them tight with her own tape.
“This is about you understanding and experiencing the horror of what my brother went through,” he said, as he wrapped her ankles. “Nothing more.”
But, as he looked out on her dying garden in the backyard before he closed the
curtains, he knew it wasn't just about that. This had somehow turned into something else entirely.
He frowned and left the room, thinking about how new life could grow from even dead, broken ground.
Chapter Five
Zed
She might have been a heartless bitch who was willing to do anything to protect herself and her career, but Zed could say one nice thing about Abby: she had a great liquor cabinet.
He dug through and found a seventeen-year-old bottle of bourbon on his first rummage. He pulled it out and went into the kitchen to find a glass. Something this good deserved to be sipped from a tumbler.