Nightmare of Vengeance

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Nightmare of Vengeance Page 12

by Lizbeth Dusseau


  But a good man like Lawton Brady?

  My head could spin for a week and not have an answer.

  What made him leap on this behavior? My mind spun trying to find a reasonable answer. But maybe there was none. Or maybe it was my fault. Maybe my need for a dominant force to run my life, to contain me, beat me, use me had brought out the beast in him. Perhaps I need only look in the mirror to find my answer.

  In the morning, we scrambled eggs and drank huge mugs of steaming coffee. Everything rocked my taste buds and my body felt ecstatically happy. The rest of me was a little edgy; submissive’s remorse, perhaps.

  What have I done! What has he done to me! Things like that pestered me all through the hot shower and a long look in the mirror at the marks left on my flesh. I didn’t look badly beaten, but my pale skin was lightly stripped all over, and in a few places rough welts marred the same smooth flesh that was flawless when I woke up the previous day.

  I recalled that morning, wincing, while fast-forwarding through the scenes of the eventful day. I scarcely recalled, until I forced myself to think of it, the incident that began my Friday morning: the newsmen and my panicked response. I still remembered the spanking and Lawton’s fury; they would remain in my mind for a long while. But most of the agitation I felt about the events of that day centered around the unexpected appearance of Choate during my private time with Lawton.

  Lawton must have sensed my anxiety.

  “What’s the matter?” he finally asked. “You look unusually pensive.”

  “And why wouldn’t I be? I mean, when I consider the day we had yesterday. A lot happened.”

  “I’ll grant you that. You want to tell me what’s going on? If something doesn’t set right, let’s get it settled now.”

  “Well…” I squirmed in my chair, feeling my ass starting to heat pleasurably as it was reminded of the spanking.

  “You have a problem getting spanked?” he jumped in before I had a chance to answer.

  “No, really, I don’t think I do. It was rather old school of you, but,” and here I could sense my chagrin showing plainly on my face, “whatever that was you did, all that haughty, incensed bravado, all that righteous ire, well…It’s a huge turn-on.”

  “Humph,” he smirked and settled back in his chair eyeing me in an almost patronizing way, like the all-knowing dominant. “Trust me, taking you to the woodshed isn’t off the table.”

  “Yes, well,” I blushed. “I-I…I’m not…well you know…” My words seemed to twist inside my mouth, much like that thrilling but wildly embarrassing feeling that made a huge knot inside my belly.

  “You said it, I didn’t. Yesterday, I just did what needed doing. And I’d do it again, if you misbehave. How’s that?”

  “Yes, that’s just fine.” By then, my face was red as a beet; my lust for Lawton Brady had appeared to skyrocket in a matter of seconds.

  “So is that all that’s troubling you?” he paused, waiting and when I didn’t reply, he added: “I have a feeling it’s not.”

  “Maybe not.” The disquieting feeling returned. The one that began every time I remembered Choate’s appearance in the cabin. “You surprised me, Lawton. There I was naked, crawling on the floor and suddenly Choate walks in.”

  “You didn’t seem to mind at the time.”

  “But I wasn’t exactly pleased. I maybe not have showed it, but it made me uneasy.”

  “Why’s that?”

  I shrugged evasively. I should have never even broached the topic. It was a dangerous one, full of pitfalls, and past grievances with another man I had no intention of mentioning to Lawton. There’d be no Pandora’s Box pried open today.

  “You have a problem with Choate knowing that you’re my submissive?”

  “It’s a pretty private thing, don’t you think?”

  “I agree. But Choate won’t tell a soul.”

  “You know that for sure?”

  “I do.” There wasn’t a wrinkle in his belief.

  “I just wasn’t certain if you’d well…you know… have him screw me too. I mean, I have pretty much given up control in sexual things to you. You’re the man in charge…”

  “That’s right, I am. So, you’re telling me you’d have a problem if I gave you to someone else?”

  “Yes, I would.”

  “Because…?” I was too petrified to speak, so he kept on. “Because some other man asked you to do that in the past. Is that it, Samantha?”

  I looked back at him, registering a look of surprise. I suppose it was just a lucky guess. “Well, yes.” It was a whole lot easier admitting the truth than trying to evade it any longer.

  “Tell me about it?”

  “Why?” I could already feel tears sting my eyes. Where was the gentle Lawton I knew? At that moment, the man was as dictatorial as Ryder at his worst.

  “Because you say so little about yourself, and if I stretch your limits on love and sex, I’d like to have a place to begin. Maybe it was good that I hit the mark with Choate’s entrance last night.”

  “So it was planned?”

  “It was. And long before you inspired that woodshed treatment. I figured it would be a long day for you, but it was my plan to end well. Either that, or it would be a huge disaster. I think we avoided disaster, but let’s get back to the point. You were going to tell me why Choate made you so uncomfortable. I’m getting the feeling that I’m not your first dominant lover, am I wrong?”

  Still I hesitated.

  “Samantha, I want answers. I want to know what I’m dealing with.” His tone was terse. The once casual atmosphere of the new morning had turned intensely grave.

  The agitation in my gut was growing every second it festered there. I didn’t want to lose this man, but there would be no mention of Ryder … no! “Okay, all right…if it’s so important…” I looked to him for confirmation, which was silly because he was already clear in his demand.

  “Sam, this is important. I want the truth.”

  For a moment, I actually thought he was going to smack me.

  “Yes, there was a man, a lover, a serious lover… he brought other men into our bedroom for me to screw… submissive situations where I had no say…” I stopped, surely that explained enough.

  “And… what? You hated it?”

  “Not exactly. But it’s not something I want to repeat. The icky feelings have stayed with me for a long time, something I can’t shake. He made demands on me I was never happy about… like I’d been forced, though I know I wasn’t. But I stayed a lot longer than I should have.” I could feel myself starting to get geared up for the long sob story that brought me to Rio Marinas, but I stopped there… remembering the vows I’d made to myself, the promises to Tom Quinn. I’d already said far more than I ever intended and that was enough.

  By the look on Lawton’s face I could sense that he wanted more, but there would be no more. A long quiet followed.

  “You don’t want details, do you?” I finally blurted out.

  “No, that’s not necessary, Sam. But you should have told me sooner.”

  “Yeah, right… how exactly do I broach that subject with a new lover? Oh by the way… I used to screw several men in a night…”

  “Whatever happened must have been pretty painful, the way you avoid it with such passion. I’m guessing that if you want to tell me more, you will. When you’re ready.”

  Right, when I’m ready. I recall the moment clearly, thinking at the time that there were places in my heart he’d never go, never. No man would. I hadn’t realized how hard a real relationship might be after Jon Ryder when I had so much inside that I still needed to protect.

  “Let me make one thing clear to you…” he said more gently, “last night Choate was here because he knows how to suspend females in rope – we can cover why another day. But I had no intention then, nor now of giving you away to him for sex, or anything else. I have no intention of giving you to any man. Why on earth would I want to? I don’t particularly like to share my
woman. And I don’t think I’d find it particularly interesting watching you have sex with another man. Maybe that’s not normal, or maybe it is. I really don’t care. I want the woman I love to be as devoted to me as I am to her. You throw in other people, that would seem to be too damn risky if you really want the relationship to last. That’s how I see it and I’m too old to change my thinking on that.”

  Well, that was unexpected! I was getting all goose-bumpy listening to words of love straight from Lawton Brady’s mouth. I savored every one and the sentiment, finally feeling sure that he was not the incarnation of Jon Ryder.

  I wasn’t aware of the tears streaming from my eyes until Lawton reached out with his bandana and wiped them from my cheeks. He grabbed my hand and lifted me to my feet, holding me for a long while against his chest where the warmth of his body consumed mine in a feeling of comfort. “I told you last night I loved you, Lawton. I really mean that.”

  “And I love you too,” he said, with a hand wrapped inside my red hair. I remembered that when I arrived in Rio Marinas my hair had been that spiky, sassy cut I chose when I was ridding my life of Ryder. But the red locks had grown much longer, as the man’s hold on me lessened with each day free of his tethers. My entire being had seemed to soften as I allowed another man into my life…another better man.

  Chapter Nine

  The drive north began on a sunny day when the skies were clear and the cool breeze off the ocean made every mile a pleasure. Skirting along Hwy 1, I experienced a feeling of freedom in me I’d not felt in many months. I considered the upcoming trip a celebration of my first year in Rio Marinas. Perhaps it was a strange way to celebrate, leaving town for a long weekend, but this was what I needed to do. Lawton wasn’t particularly happy with my decision, but I managed to plan the trip when he was in the midst of his legal battles with the State. He hadn’t seen much of me in a week as it was, and with the threat of more television cameras poking their way about town and hounding Lawton for pictures, I decided that I’d be safer if I split town altogether. In the months since that previous incident with the cameramen, our relationship had gone well, and I didn’t wanting anything screwing that up.

  Brit Frances lived in San Francisco, ‘in the avenues’, she said, like I should know what that meant. She predated Jon Ryder by two years, the high school friend I used to dream with before we were old enough to make dreams happen. She’d taken off for Berkeley after we graduated. A real brain, high SATs, straight A’s, the whole works, not to mention a full ride to the UC medical research department. During our first two years in college, we talked a lot. We even saw each other twice when she came home for Christmas, but by our junior year, we fell off each other’s radar: me too busy with pre-law; Brit too busy feeding lab rats dangerous chemicals. She knew nothing about Ryder, even though she might have been the one person in my life with whom I might have shared the horrid story. But, as relationships falter, so did my willingness to share those details with anyone, including Brit. We talked a few times after the incident in the woods, but I mentioned nothing about the ordeal, besides, you just don’t mention serious things like that on the phone. I was sure Brit would have pushed me to go to the authorities to report Ryder’s crimes, and her stubborn arguments would have only angered me.

  I’d thought very little about Brit until one afternoon as I was surfing the Internet at the Rio Marinas library and her name popped into my head. A quick Google search found her listed in the UC college faculty, along with an email address. One thing led to another… and a vacation in San Francisco was quickly arranged.

  Did I dare return to my old identity, even briefly? I asked myself the question a dozen times, remembering all the warnings Tom Quinn had drilled into my dense brain. But my need to get away kept urging me on. Ryder would never know; not unless he had spies all over Rio Marinas, and I seriously doubted that he would have been able to infiltrate that sleepy community without being noticed. Excited by a need to stretch my wings a bit, the trip was decided on, although I didn’t say much about it to the crowd at Miss Bessie’s or to Lawton. I didn’t need a lot of awkward questions from my friends, and since Brit still knew me as Kristen Davies, not Samantha Ross, I couldn’t have Lawton and Brit making a connection.

  When Lawton asked where I’d be, I said, I wasn’t sure whether I’d be staying with my friend or in a hotel. But I did have my cell phone and he could always call. Coming from the old-fashioned school where men protected females, especially in strange circumstances, Lawton was not too happy that I was taking off on my own, and yet, how could he object when I’d proven to make it safely across the country without a male chaperone? Although he did object, he knew that his objection carried little weight on this issue.

  “Behave yourself,” he warned in his serious Lawton Brady tone, while shaking a reproving finger my way. I shoved it aside, and moved in for a warm wet kiss to remind him that I would soon be coming back to him.

  After an hour of easy driving, road construction became the first hindrance to the smooth-sailing trip I envisioned. At least I had an inspiring view of the Pacific Ocean to keep me company. But two hours past as a long line of vehicles, stretching behind me as far as the eye could see, inched their way north. When we finally started to move again with some speed, the impending Pacific storm loomed close to shore. By the time I reached Salinas, the sky was black and rain was pounding on the road, coming down so fast that my windshield wipers could barely keep up with the sheets of water pouring from the top of the car onto the glass. Again, the long train of vehicles slowed down to a crawl, and by the time the next rest stop approached, I moved off the highway. I needed a quick pit stop and a chance to rest my bleary eyes. Finally, dashing back to the car, I found my energy for the trip somewhat renewed, and though the rain was still an annoying mess, more annoying was discovering that my car refused to start.

  My head began to spin in panic, then a sudden surge of bad feelings rose up to replace any rational thought. My brain battled back and forth from panic and reason, until I finally settled enough to focus on a solution. My car wouldn’t start, that fact was plain. ‘So look through the glove box and find that emergency sticker, Sam!’ the voice in my head shouted the command until my conscious mind paid heed.

  Reaching across the console, I released the latch, but at just that moment, the car door suddenly opened and a swoosh of water and wind poured inside. Along with it came an outstretched hand grabbing me by the arm. My body skidded on the asphalt, dragged for six feet, then was body-slammed into the back of a panel truck where someone in the small dark space bound my arms and feet. A blindfold dropped over my eyes, while a second length of thick cloth made a satisfactory gag.

  Déjà vu.

  The smells and sounds of the forest cabin ominously closed in around my brain. How much time past was beyond me to tell. Next thing I knew, the vehicle stopped, and I was dragged across the wet pavement and finally deposited on a thick, dry rug. A door slammed behind me.

  Rain still poured down in buckets. I could clearly hear it battering against the roof of the building, but I was inside some unknown space outside its reach. However, sensing what was about to happen, I would have gladly traded that dry, scratchy carpet for a muddy ditch.

  I lay bound, wondering when I’d see his face. It had been over a year since I made my getaway…over a year since Ryder and I last saw each other in the stairwell of the law library.

  At least this time, I didn’t have to wait long before the blindfold was jerked from my face, and my eyes opened on the man himself, sitting nonchalantly on the edge of a motel bed. I stared around, seeing all the normal motel fare: the swaying bed with the faded, floral comforter; the plastic looking dresser in a blond faux wood; a couple tall lamps; and two bland landscapes in faux wood frames hanging over the bed, now slightly askew. At least the soft blues were restful to my eyes, although the dim lighting, perhaps an attempt to mock a romantic ambience, gave the room an eerie look to match the awful feeling in my gut.
<
br />   “So, now it’s Samantha, is it?”

  My eyes glared back at Ryder, detesting him as much as my crotch was becoming aroused by the darkness that leapt from his sultry wicked eyes.

  I groaned my protest behind the gag.

  “Oh, my, you can’t speak, can you, my darling fiancé?”

  My darling fiancé! How could he dare call me that!

  The way he spoke scared me more than the thought of his fucking me.

  Was I supposed to be grateful when seconds later he leaned forward and ripped the gag from my mouth? “There, is that better?” he asked.

  “No, Ryder, it isn’t better!” I shouted. “It’s not ever going to get better until you give this up.” Hot bile rose up from my solar plexus as anger replaced my panic.

  “Give up what? My assaults on you? My revenge? You have no idea how I plan these things. How much I enjoy the idea of the sweetheart Kristen Davies as my helpless victim and my hot sex toy. You realize that if you didn’t respond so beautifully, so in character, I wouldn’t keep coming back? But you make it so much fun, with all the protest and the steamy eyes, and fuming anger, only to find your body repudiating those emotions with the physical truth. What a paradox you are, Kristen…oh right! It’s Samantha now. Or is that Sam for short? Hum?”

  I could only glare. The fury roiling in my belly could not be exposed to him, even if he already knew how much this newest installment of his vengeful retribution affected me. I could not give him the pleasure of seeing me so aroused.

  But did that deter the man? Of course not.

  He stood up, so he could look down on me from an even greater distance while he lorded his triumph over me.

  “You really thought you could escape me, Kristen?” he kept on with the mocking tone. “How silly of you to hope that there might be something you could do that would remove me from your life. Maybe it’s the natural radar, or maybe just fate that keeps bringing us back together – fate aided by my will – but I would suggest that you forget your attempts to flee from me. It’s a foolish waste of time. As long as I want you, I’ll have you.”

 

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