by Lydia Thorn
“Yeah.” I look up at the high ceiling arches a light almost greenish looking beige if that’s even possible and decorated in golden designs. A secondary golden gate takes us straight into the beautiful home that looks like a palace. The floors are a marble beige with golden specks and although I’m not a fan of the color brown, it works so well here with its rich almost black color which enhances the light natural colors and gold décor.
“Follow me.” His voice echoes slightly as he leads me to the curved staircase. I see a woman dressed in black in the back wiping down some tables. Shit, he does have servants.
I feel like a prostitute with a high-class John, but I say nothing as I follow him down the long wide hall to a large bedroom. The small library takes up half the wall space in this light blue-gray stone textured room. I look out the window for a moment to see the busy street below. A UPS man is delivering packages to someone’s house.
Every step across this wooden floor is amplified by my anxiety. I now can’t stop staring at that enormous bed of his, a far cry from my twin. That light olive-toned duvet looks…soft and inviting. “I’ve never done anything like this before.” I breathe when Ivan finally closes the bedroom door. No retreat, no surrender.
“Me neither.”
“That surprises me.”
“You think I pay for this often?”
“I doubt many people are offering themselves up as a…I have no idea what I’m offering. Fake boyfriend sounds less insane.”
Ivan laughs but only a little. I tear my eyes from him to the clutter-free desk. A picture of a woman with long wavy blonde hair sits near the widescreen. The sun is out, and she’s holding what looks like a child, but I can’t tell because that portion is torn off. “She’s beautiful.”
“That’s my mother. Her name was Ava.”
The dreaded was.
I don’t want to pry, but I remember Mr. Bowie saying something about her dying.
“It’s too late to turn back now,” Ivan says stepping very close to my back, his hands grazing my arms which I fearfully keep at my sides.
“You said you were healed…” I turn around as he lifts his cut bandaged arm.
“I’m healed enough to fuck.”
“So, I guess I take off my clothes.”
“That would be nice.”
“But is sex all you want to do?”
“You said you wanted me to love you.”
“Sex isn’t the only way to show it.”
“Enlighten me.”
“Well, what else do you want to do with Mr. Bowie? It can’t be just sex.”
“Sex was all I pictured with him because I nearly have everything else.” He replies and steps back, the tension dissipating. I shouldn’t have said his name. “What is it you want to do?” He then says, a bit of irritation in his voice.
“We can watch a movie together.”
“In bed?”
“Sure, if you want.”
“I have no TV in here.”
He sure as hell doesn’t. “We can watch on your tablet,” I say gesturing to the device on the desk. I take a chance and pick it up, more out of nervousness than a daring streak, I need to busy myself. “No password to unlock?” I tisk. “Not wise.”
“I never take that thing anywhere.”
My hand stays on the screen, my fingers unable to move as his touch grazes my neck and toy with the collar. I lean into it, my body drinking it like a thirsty animal with a bowl of water. “Who says we have to watch now.” I place it back on the desk and give in to his hands around my waist, pulling me into his hard crotch.
“I’m paying you to do as I please. We can satisfy your whims later.” He kisses my neck, pulling me in as if his body wants to swallow mine whole. “I want to do things to you I’ve never thought about doing to anyone else.”
“What is that?” I close my eyes. But Ivan directs me to open them as he takes me by the hand and leads me to the walk-in closet. The racks are full of clean and pressed clothing. Inside is a chair but the wall at the very end has a simple floor to ceiling mirror and on either side are coat hooks embedded to the wall. He closes the door, the lights are dim but I can see him reach for something on the top shelf. The unmistaken metal glints in the light. “Handcuffs?” My heart pounds, my brain tells me to leave, but my partner is ready.
“I’ll give you one last chance to leave. You can break our deal and go and you will most likely never see me again.”
“School isn’t out yet.”
“It is for me.” He whispers and holds the cuffs in his hands.
I look to him and the cuffs and gulp, my heart is pounding a million miles a minute and I want to see where this goes despite the rising fear. “I don’t intend to break the deal.”
He sits the cuffs on the dresser nearby and begins unbuttoning my shirt and tosses it to the floor. I move to undo my pants until he stops me. “I want to undress you.” He simply says as he continues until I’m naked, my cock hard and already leaking. He places the cuffs on each wrist and guides me to the hooks facing the mirror. I hate seeing myself naked like this, but I’m forced to watch.
“What are you gonna do?” I swallow hard, my breath fogging the glass.
“A pervert like you will like it.” He says reaching over and teasing my nipples, pulling them until they become warm and red. His hands glide over my back and ass, which he gives a light tap. I underestimated how high these damn hooks are as it stretches my arms high and wide, forcing me to remain on the tips of my toes. I don’t think I’ll be able to get down without Ivan’s help. Maybe that’s what he wants.
I see him disappear around the corner. Just how big is this damn closet? He returns soon with a thick black leather paddle.
“Wait…” I say, trying my best to lift my arm enough to unhook my cuffs. “What are you going to do with that?”
“No one has ever tried to blackmail me before and get away with it.” He says caressing the leather. “No one gets away without punishment.”
“I thought we made up.”
“Made up?” Ivan says incredulously. “You almost ruined the life of someone I care about, innocent or not be damned, and you only changed your mind when you were reminded of how badly it compromises your own life. You’re a selfish bitch, Louis. And what’s even more surprising is the fact that you don’t seem to know it at all.”
I struggle fruitlessly, arousal giving in to fear. He’s trapped me like a spider trapping a fly, but even the fly has better sense than to enter the web of its own free will.
“What will you do to me?” I can’t stop the tears. He places a small black leather choker around my neck and fastens it tight but not enough to cut off my airways, he yanks on something, I think a metal hoop at the back of it pulling my head back at will before he picks up the paddle again.
“Whatever the hell I like.” He finally replies. “Isn’t that what I’m paying for?” He steps back, and without warning my ass is set ablaze. Again and again, he hits me until my knees buckle and I beg him to stop. I bit my lip, my own way to defy him, I refuse to cry out in pain.
His touch on the fiery skin is like a cooling balm. My partner betrays me by remaining at attention.
“You belong to me now,” Ivan whispers, his vanilla oak scent taking over, his tongue lapping at my neck. He reaches for something but my eyes is blurry from the tears but I hear something squirt and then feel his cool slimy finger press against my hole.
My breath hitches as he inserts it deeper, working it, tickling my insides, my hips betray me as my ass seeks out his touch. He tears off the wrapper of the condom and I hate how damn sexy he looks while doing it. It doesn’t take long before he enters me. His black shirt open, his muscles glistening in the small golden light. He hits that spot and I cry out in pain and pleasure as I feel like I’m being stretched beyond my limits. He pulls and yanks at my nipples until I can’t stand it anymore, my face presses against the glass, I can’t help but to watch him, I can’t take my eyes off of him.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
IVAN
Birds chirping.
A bustling street.
Screeching and honking cars.
All the sounds from outside were muffled by elegant baroque walls within walls. Ivan didn’t know when this house was made or why its former occupants felt the need to include a narrow door to reach the inner walls of this multi-leveled city mansion.
He thought he would find cobwebs and large spiders awaiting their next meal. What he found instead were plain walls, and dusty carpet floors. Inside of these walls within walls was a single narrow elevator. Its door was a wrought-iron grate. This hidden elevator covered all six levels and each lead to hidden doors scattered about the estate.
These inner walls were young Ivan’s lifeline, his haven, his means of escape.
He sat inside the wall, his skinny knees touching his chin, his eyes crusted with tears. He forced himself to quiet down when he heard the set of steps coming too close. He recognized one pair all too well. They were thick and heavy as they thumped along like a cave troll. The others were lighter yet still just as determined.
“Where is he?” Sigurd Lorenson bellowed. “Stop hiding you coward!” You’d think he was talking to a full-grown man, but those words were directed at his youngest son, the eleven-year-old Ivan.
“Gone, I told you!” His older brother Kane marched behind him, a tall and handsome man of twenty-one and nearing the end of all the fucks he would give about the drunken blithering asshole in front of him.
“Don’t lie to me! Don’t lie to me!”
“I’m not lying—”
“Did you know what he did? Putting this shit all over my shoes.” Sigurd slammed his black and inky blue shoes onto the floor, the midnight blue ink splatters on the marble.
“He was trying to polish them for you.”
“He did it on purpose!”
“How do you know that?”
“Cause he was born to ruin my life.”
“You have plenty of shoes.”
“Watch your mouth talking to me like that! I know I have more shoes.” He kicked the shoes across the floor and wiped the sweat from his brow. “I wanted to wear these shoes.” He opened the door to the drawing-room and snatch the gaudy red drapes to the marbled floor.
“What are you looking for? I told you, he’s gone.” Kane argues as best he can, his words falling on deaf ears.
“This is what that bastard turned this family into.” Sigurd groaned. “He killed my wife and your mother, I’ve turned to drinking, and now you’re telling lies. You never used to lie.”
“He didn’t murder anyone. Mom choose him over herself, it’s not his fault.”
A fast-hard slap across Kane’s face turns his head to the hidden door in the room.
“How can you side with him?” He balled his fists, prepared to give him more than a slap. “How!” Anger takes over, the rage fast reaching its boiling point.
Kane stood his ground for the first punch and then the second came and he grabbed the other man’s wrist. He wasn’t a child anymore, and he wanted the older man to know that he wasn’t going to curl into a ball and take the blows, not tonight. “Lay another hand on me again and I will kill you.” Kane sneered, pushing him away and wiping the blood from his cut lip.
“So, you’re baring your teeth now, boy?” The older man cackled. “We’ll see whose fangs are sharper.” He said stumbling from the room.
“Are you okay?” Ivan asked when the hidden door creaked open.
“Shut the hell up and get further back in the walls. He’ll be passed out soon and cooled down tomorrow. I’ll bring you dinner.”
Dreams have a knack for only making you remember the most traumatic events.
This one was one of the few times Kane spent time with his younger brother since he began working with their father. It was cool and pouring rain, the rain drowned out the noise of the city and yet cutting through the veil were tiny desperate cries.
Ivan found the source standing beside a dumpster in an abandoned lot. Its dirty white fur drenched in water and filth. “It’s so cute.” Ivan bundled the small crying creature in his coat. “Where’s your mother?”
“You already know you can’t have it.” Kane stood on the pavement watching his younger brother already fall in love.
“It looks cold and starving, you can see some of its ribs.”
“Don’t even think about it,” Kane warned.
And although they returned home sans the poor wet kitten, it didn’t stop Ivan from returning. “Hey, it sucks being out here all alone.” He took the small thing into his arms again; the rain had ceased, but the kitten was still soggy. “I’ll call you…” He lifted the kitten to get a good look, was it a boy or girl? “Ava, after my mother.” He smiled when he saw it was a girl.
Just as he felt safe within the walls, he knew Ava would feel the same. He grabbed a blanket to make a makeshift bed for her and brought up a bowl of water and chopped raw chicken and steamed broccoli with bits of cheddar cheese, after searching online for foods cats were allowed to eat.
Within a few days, Ava was given a flea bath, but something was still wrong with her breathing. He needed a vet, so he used the benefit of being the forgotten son and stole his father’s credit card.
In nearly a month her bronchial symptoms were reduced, Ivan made sure she took her meds as prescribed, and he already stashed cases of canned cat food near the hidden elevator.
I won’t have to wait long, Kane will soon get rid of that evil bastard and I won’t have to hide her anymore.
He had come home from school to find Kane waiting for him on the steps of their elegant home.
“Let’s go somewhere.” He said meeting him on the pavement.
“What’s wrong?” Ivan asked, that foreboding feeling spreading about. Living in a house of abuse, you learn to live without air but still there’s that moment called the drop when the floor snaps away tossing you into the abyss suffocating you further. The moment when you’ve angered them, or someone else does and lately, Kane had been battling their father for control of the company like a caged beast and Ivan had taken to practically living within the walls to avoid his father’s redirected ire.
“Ava…” Ivan breathed and ran into that house, the devil be damned. Kane ran after him and sure enough, he heard the pained cries of the growing kitten he had saved. He followed to the drawing-room, the hidden door ajar and the fireplace, which was never used, was now ablaze with fresh fire and wood. She fought in his grip as he dangled her by the extra flesh of her neck. “Put her down!” Ivan yelled; rough hands gripped him, yanking him away.
Kane stopped at the door unwilling to enter the room, Ivan turned to him pleading to help but he refused to enter, another man was waiting for him, one of his father’s hired goons and Ivan understood why his brother didn’t enter, he couldn’t allow himself to appear weak. But still, Ivan hated him for this decision.
“You think I wouldn’t know about my stolen card?” He no longer smelled of alcohol, he had kicked the habit, his fight with Kane over the company forced him to get himself under control. At least when he was drunk Ivan could chalk his abuse up to the ravings and actions of the drink. But no, his mind was clear.
“I promise I’ll pay you back!”
“With what money you stupid little child?”
“I’ll get a job! I’ll do anything, just don’t get rid of her.”
“This is my house! Mine.” He thumped his chest. “You do what I say and you ask for my fucking permission before bringing a damn pet in this house.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Ask me and I’ll give it back.”
“Please let me have a pet. I’ve already bathed her and fed her. I’ll take—”
Her pained cries filled the room. One of his goons ran to the roaring fireplace and set the grate, using his booted foot to hold it in place as the burning crying animal screeched in horror and banged to try to escape its fiery prison.<
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“NO!” Ivan reached his arm toward the heat.
LOUIS
He let me stay, he tended to my sore wrists, cleaned me up and laid me down in his bed so gently, there was no anger. Once again, I’m left unable to read him. I think I fell asleep; the room is dim, but it doesn’t look like it’s entirely dark outside yet. If I leave now, I can catch the train and be at home before nightfall.
His face is scrunched up, his eyes move under the lids. He must be dreaming; I wonder what about? Is it of Mr. Bowie, is he happy?
No, his breathing is fast, like he’s in a small panic, his skin glistens with sweat. He’s having a nightmare. What can I do?
I heard you’re not supposed to wake someone from a nightmare, or is that sleepwalking. Hell, I don’t know even remember what they say would happen if you do.
I place my hand on his forehead. “Ivan, it’s just a dream,” I whisper into his ear; I don’t know what good this can do, but I hope I can reach him.
“Ava…” He whispers back, the pain in his voice immeasurable.
“You’re safe and in bed. Nothing is here, nothing can hurt you.”
It’s not working. I clear my throat and breathe deep for a song. A five-thousand-year-old Babylonian lullaby my mother had put a tune to:
Little baby in the dark house,
You have seen the sun rise.
Why are you crying?
Why are you screaming?
You have disturbed the house god.
Who has disturbed me? says the house god.
It is the baby who has disturbed you.
Who scared me? says the house god.
The baby has disturbed you, the baby has scared you.
Making noises like a drunkard who cannot sit still on his stool.
He has disturbed your sleep.
Call the baby now, says the house god.
His breathing steadies, his eyes no longer flutter, he’s calm again.
What was he dreaming about?
I look at the bottle of Melatonin on the bedside table. He must have trouble sleeping. A part of me wants to stay, but I can’t.