by Nicole Fox
Emily held her breath as he left the room. But she didn't move. It was like his words had somehow exerted some sort of mental lock on her.
God, what was happening to her? How was this her lot in life? She'd just wanted to get ahead, be successful, and live the American dream. Sure, she admitted she’d had to be a stone-cold bitch to reach her goals, but so did everyone. Didn't they?
Now she had this handsome vet, crazy though he was, lying on top of her while he did things to himself, commanding her around, and trying to break her will. He was heartless one moment, like when he'd groped her and led her by the leash. Then the next, he was almost caring, as he scrubbed her legs and washed down her arms. No man had ever done anything like this to her before. No man had dared to try. She was too strong for that, and would never it happen.
Letting him do this, she realized, was one thing she didn't have a choice in, though. Terrified and helpless, she realized she was his prisoner here.
But was she really his prisoner by force?
Dane came back in with one of her dining room chairs held in front of him. As she watched him set the wishbone chair, with its low back and no armrests, down at the foot of the bed, Emily couldn't help but wonder why she hadn't moved even a fraction of an inch while he was away from the room.
“Sit up,” Dane ordered, as he came over to the bed. “On the edge of the bed. Now.”
What was this chair about? Emily eyed the chair and her captor warily, her eyes going back and forth between the two as she sat at the edge of the bed.
“Ever been sleep deprived?” he asked.
Eyes focused on him again, she shook her head.
“Well, I have, princess. In the Air Force, they'd give you pills. They called them ‘go pills,’ and they’d use them for long flights and combat sorties. You'd get ‘stop pills’ afterward. It damn sure fucks with your head. Now, get in the chair.”
She hesitated for a moment, but he shot her a look that told her not to try anything. She quickly got up, not knowing what he would do if she remained obstinate, and sat down in the chair as he went over to grab the duct tape from where he'd left it on the nightstand.
“What are you doing?” Emily asked, finally speaking up.
“Teaching you to behave,” he said, as he returned with the tape. “Struggle, and I'll make the tape so tight you'll worry your fingers are about to fall off. Got it?”
She nodded.
He roughly forced her left arm against the chair back, forcing her sit with her back arched uncomfortably. He taped her in place and moved to the other arm.
“This is uncomfortable,” she said.
“That's the point,” he replied, as he taped her other arm in place.
Her back was arched cruelly, stressing the muscles of her lower back already. However, she quickly found she could adjust herself to a more comfortable position by thrusting her chest out a little, putting her breasts even more fully on display for Dane.
He got down on his knees in front of her, and she reflexively slammed her legs shut. He grabbed both of her knees and pried them apart. “Hold still,” he hissed.
Even from this distance, she could feel his hot breath on her body, slipping up between her thighs. She felt the blood rushing to her extremities, her body betraying her as she adjusted herself in the seat.
She shouldn't be feeling this way. Not about what he was doing to her.
He bent his head and began to tape each ankle to one of the chair legs. Binding completed, he pulled at each of her feet, testing her bonds. Satisfied she couldn't move, he looked up between her thighs. She could feel his eyes on her pouting lips. He glanced up at her, no expression on his face.
Emily blushed and looked away. She couldn't bear to make eye contact. Not now.
He got up from between her legs without saying a word and left the room.
Alone again, at least for a moment, she tested her bonds. He'd done a competent job, though, and she could hardly move given the way he'd taped her into place. She didn't have a chance of getting out of these duct tape shackles.
He came back in a moment later, a pair of heavy, padded headphones dangling from his hand, loud and raucous music already blaring from them.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
He didn't say a word. He just slipped the headphones over her head, and dropped the mp3 player in her lap, the metal and plastic like ice against the inside of her naked thighs.
“Hey!” she screamed, as she twisted to look at him, unable to hear even her own voice over the blaring of the distorted electric guitar, thumping bass, and screaming lyrics that were too loud to understand. “Dane!”
She watched as he took the tie he'd earlier been wearing and held it out in front of him. He had a determined, crazy look in his eyes—more so than at any point so far.
Was he going to strangle her to death? Was this how they'd find her, with headphones blaring heavy metal into her dead ears, her corpse taped to one of her dining room chairs in her bedroom? She could just picture the news, too: “Youngest Female CEO of Fortune 500 Pharma Company Found Dead in Home. Deviant Sex Play Suspected as Cause of Death.”
She recoiled in fear, panic filling her at what he might do with that innocuous article of clothing.
He stepped around behind her.
She yelled again. “Dane!”
The tie descended over her eyes, sending her deep into a metal-filled hell of darkness and despair. She thrashed in her chair, struggling against her bonds till she was too exhausted to continue to fight. When she couldn't fight anymore, she tried slumping in her chair. She still couldn't get comfortable, though, and had to straighten her body back out.
And, all the while, the same thrashing metal song played on repeat. She wasn't sure who the band was, but, if she ever saw them on the street, she'd shoot them after this hell.
Time seemed to blacken, just as her vision had. With no clocks to see, no way to feel the sun on her, or see its passage through the sky, she couldn't track the time. She felt as if she sat there for ages.
Finally, though, she felt the floor shift below her. She felt Dane's heavy footfalls as he came back into the room and stood beside her. Feeling his presence nearby, she turned her head to the side and looked for him with her sightless eyes.
He stood there for a moment longer, doing nothing.
Was he there to remove the headphones? To take her out of the chair? Her whole body ached, her muscles screamed from the uncomfortable position, and her mind was cloudy from sleep deprivation. “Dane?” she shouted, unable to be sure how loud her voice actually was.
Finally, blissful silence returned as he pulled the headphones from her head. “You have a text,” he said, his voice sounding faraway and distant because of the numbness in her ears.
A text? Maybe it was from Jas, or from someone who could help her. She didn't say anything, though. She couldn't give him any more leverage over her.
“From Edward Barker, asking how the conference is going,” Dane continued. “Is he your boyfriend or something?”
Why would Edward be texting her? Did he know she wasn't at the conference and that she had missed her flight? That lying snake in the grass would probably try to use this against her. Fuck Edward. Despite her feelings, though, Emily didn't reply. She didn't say a word or shake her head. She just bared her teeth in rage.
“Suit yourself,” Dane said, after she didn't answer. He went to return the headphones to her ears, but, before he did, he stopped. “Almost forgot to tell you,” he said, his voice deadpan, “I found a surprise in your nightstand.”
“What?” Emily asked, confused. “A surprise?”
“You'll find out,” he said, then slipped the headphones back over her ears, filling her head with the banging, ripping metal music again. Her world became the cacophony, as the unintelligible lyrics filled her head.
What kind of surprise did he have for her? One from her nightstand? Was he going to give her some more of her sedative, like he had in the car? W
as he going to let her rest?
Finally, even with the music and the uncomfortable positioning, Emily began to drift off to sleep. Her head fell forward, snapping her awake. The human body was ever adaptable, it seemed, and could get used to pretty much anything, if given long enough.
Maybe, she realized, she could get some sleep, if she really tried. Maybe she could hang her head forward on her own, to keep the abrupt stop from waking her back up, and manage to get a little relief that way.
She hung her head forward and tried to shut out the heavy metal on the headphones. It had become so monotonous, now, that it actually came easily for her.
Soon, she was drifting off to sleep, the sensation of the chair beneath her, the tape on her skin, and the music pounding in her head all fading away as she embraced the darkness of slumber. And that was when she felt the buzzing between her thighs.
Immediately, Emily knew what he'd found. Her multi-speed vibrator. She groaned as she tried to get away from it, just to return to the peace and quiet her body had somehow almost found. She couldn't get far, though, not with the way he'd taped her into place. She felt herself already dripping, her body flushing with unwanted arousal. She bit her lower lip as she continued to try and squirm away.
He rubbed the tip of the vibrator up and down her lips, collecting her excitement.
She spread her legs wider for him, her body wanting what it wanted.
He circled her clit with the tip, producing an excited moan from her.
She chewed on her lower lip, thinking that maybe a good orgasm would be what her body needed to finally get some real sleep. It had always relaxed her in the past, so why not now?
“Dane,” she moaned, her words lost to her beneath the beat of the double-kick bass and the unending screaming of the lead singer. “Dane,” she moaned again.
The tip of her toy found her clit, and it was like electricity rushed through her body. Her whole body arched, even through the pain of the stress positioning, her hips moving forward to beg for more of his touch.
Fuck, her body wanted it inside of her, wanted to feel it filling her as it hummed her to sleep. Just one quick, little release would be all that she needed. She licked her lips and bit her lower lip, praying that Dane would give her what her body craved.
But then the buzzing just stopped.
It just stopped, and Dane pulled away.
She moaned her protest. “Dane?” she whined. “Please, just a little more.”
The floor didn't shift, though, and she didn't feel him move away. He stayed there.
“Please?” she begged again. “Please?”
After five minutes of asking, though, and still with no response, Emily decided to keep quiet. It was beneath her, anyway, to beg, even if she could feel the evidence of her excitement and arousal drying on the inside of her thighs. She'd been positively dripping as he'd touched her, and, for some reason, the thought that it could come at any time kept that feeling heightened and keyed up.
However, after much time had passed, she finally gave up hope of his fulfilling her wanton need. She laid her head forward, just like before, letting her body doze off in exhaustion.
And then the vibrator returned. More pressing and more urgent this time.
She arched her back again, her hips trying to move and gyrate as he sent wave after wave of pleasure rolling through her body. Just as she began panting and getting close, so close, to just letting go and allowing the sensations to rip through her . . . he stopped. Again.
She realized, after the third time this happened, that he wasn't going to let her sleep. Not for a very, very long time. And, as she sat in a puddle of her own unwanted desire to feel this man's hands on her body, she realized he wasn't going to give her the relief she craved.
She sniffled a little at the thought. But, no matter how much she wanted to cry, she wouldn't let herself.
That would be giving in.
Chapter Six
Emily
The silence returned as Dane removed the headphones from her ears, and the dim light stabbed into Emily's eyes like a needle as he removed the makeshift blindfold.
Emily licked her dry lips and coughed, her throat dry from hours without even a drink of water.
The cold metal blade of the scissors dangerously caressed her skin as Dane began to cut her free from her bonds. She tried to move her arms and legs as the last of the duct tape came free, but her body resisted the sudden return to a more natural state.
She groaned as she tried to push herself up from the chair, her whole body sore and screaming.
“Here,” Dane said, as he offered her a hand, “let me help you.”
Numb from lack of sleep and from the stressful position her body had been left in, Emily gratefully accepted his help before she could remember that this was the man who had put her in the position to begin with. By the time she'd reminded herself she should be outraged and fighting him, though, he'd already scooped her into his strong arms.
She sighed and lay her head against his chest as he carried her the short distance to her bed, which was already set up for her to slip beneath the covers. “You're not going to break me,” she whispered, her voice sounding foreign and strange in her ears now that she could actually hear it.
“You need to sleep,” he said, laying her down on the mattress. He'd clearly been digging around in her garage. There was light nylon rope on the bed, cut down to size so there would be enough to tie her legs and arms to the bedposts.
She stretched out her sore legs, her muscles sending alarm bells at first. Still, though, she went on. “My mother was a fucking neglectful bitch,” Emily continued, as he began to wrap the rope around her wrists, binding them together. Her mind was jumping for joy at the chance to finally talk to someone—anyone. “She never hugged me or kissed me on the head. All she did was bitch if I gained half a pound, or asked if I was really going to eat everything on my plate. Living with her was fucking hell, even if she played nice women on the big screen. At home, she was the worst human being you could imagine. Nothing you can do will equal living with her.”
With her hands bound together, Dane moved down to her feet. He grabbed the length of rope and began to tie her ankles together.
“Know what it's like to be sexually harassed for years? Try being the daughter of a famous woman at University of Chicago, or Wharton. I was eighteen when some guy tried to slip a hand up my skirt for the first time. You playing with my pussy isn't anything new.”
He tightened up the knot and made sure it wasn't too tight, but would still hold. He straightened up and turned back to her. Dane's face was passive, devoid of emotion in the dim light as he looked down at her.
“I even had an ex-fiancé who beat me,” she said, then paused to yawn. When she was finished, she kept going, her eyes boring into the eyes of the man standing over her. “He tried to control me, just so he could try and get to my mother's money. I finally got away from him, just like I'm going to get away from you. I still made it to the top, too. Everyone said I never would, and that a woman as pretty as me wouldn't ever be CEO. But I proved those fuckers wrong, Dane. I proved them wrong.”
“You sure did,” he said. “Now get some sleep.”
She gritted her teeth. She wasn't going to listen to his orders. She needed to show him resistance, just like she had all her life, even if he was able to hold her in one arm and was suddenly being nice to her. She owed herself that much.
“You know,” she said, “if you don't let me contact my company, at least to touch base with them, this won't do you any good. I won't be the CEO for much longer if I just don't show up at the conference.”
He frowned a little as he considered her words.
“I need to at least speak to them,” she prodded. “To let them know I'm alive and haven't just dropped off the face of the earth.”
He sighed and ran a hand down his face. Without a word, he went and grabbed her phone from the other room and returned with it. “Who are we call
ing?” he asked, as he stood over her.
“I can't hold it?”
He shook his head. “I can dial for you and hold it to your ear. Now, who are we calling, Emily?”
She sighed. She'd thought about calling the cops when she went with this ploy, but knew that they wouldn't get there in time, even if she had. Still, though, she'd wanted to actually hold the phone in her hand, just to be able to show some sort of independence from him.
Apparently, though, it wasn't to be.
“Who are we calling?” he asked again.
“Edward Barker,” she said, a resigned sigh escaping her lips.
He opened her phone—she never bothered to lock it—and pulled up Edward's info. “It's ringing,” he said, as he put the phone next to her ear.