Chapter Eight
Subdued
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T IME PROTRACTED, STRETCHING out around Hannah in bizarre pockets she couldn’t understand, but she should have been able to.
It wasn’t the first time she’d experienced its odd lengthening.
Time had rarely been a friend in Lawes’ basement; it had eluded and stifled her, becoming meaningless as the dark hours bled into days.
But it was different in the shitty lounge.
She’d assumed all of that trauma was behind her, and watching it all play out around her again was too much.
Just like this bloody gag.
Her tongue flicked around the back of the plastic ball forced between her lips.
Too much.
She despised that he could steal her speech away, but more than anything, she hated what the gag represented—his power over her. The dread coursing through her veins accepted it. Lawes forbade her from speaking, but the sense of helpless frustration was difficult to process.
It shouldn’t be. I’ve thought about being gagged.
Her tongue stilled, acknowledging the accusation.
She had thought about it many times, especially in the dead of the night when sleep was a distant friend.
During those times, the idea of being gagged had been consuming, peaking her pleasure when nothing else would, but she hadn’t dared play with one since she’d been rescued from Lawes and Fuller.
I shouldn’t want this.
Yet even in the wake of the new nightmare, she was cognizant of arousal sparking at the back of her brain. She didn’t want him or the damn gag, but its effect was still irrefutable. It turned her on, even though she didn’t want it to.
Tugging against the white straps at her wrists, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Grimly, she accepted that it hardly mattered if she ever worked out the answer to the riddle of her debauched desires.
She was once again tangled back in Lawes’ insidious grasp.
Her attention should be on how to survive, not on the origins of her arousal.
Flexing her fingers, she forced her concentration around what she could see of the room, willing herself to exert control of those aspects of the dynamic that she could.
Her gaze took in the bleached paintwork and dusty mantlepiece, but there was nothing to indicate where the cobweb-covered house she’d woken in actually was.
Perhaps it was the effect of whatever drug he’d given her, but the more she looked, the less things made sense.
Yes, there was a window to her left, but the thick, gray-looking net curtains adorning the panes meant no one could possibly look in and see her.
They’d have to come into the house to know she was there.
Quickly, she scanned the space for evidence of other exits, but the only visible door was at the far end of the room, farthest from the window.
Her bondage meant there was no chance of making it there without enticing Lawes into untying her, and based on his current vengeful mood, that didn’t seem very likely.
I’m fucked.
She didn’t want to dwell on the inevitable conclusion, but it was there, smacking her in the face, whether or not she liked to admit it. She was fucked unless she got lucky, and Lawes made a silly mistake.
By the time he appeared in her line of sight, the enormity of her peril was pulverizing. He stooped, as if to place something on the ground, the delay only heightening her terror.
“Don’t worry, I’m right here.” He smiled, as though his words were in any way consoling.
His being there was all part of the problem, although she’d be equally doomed if he walked away and left her there gagged and vulnerable.
She needed him in a tangible way, but the intensity of loathing radiating from her toward him was even more palpable than she recalled from those dark basement days.
Her gaze fell, landing on the object in his hand. What the hell is that?
It took a moment for her eyes to decipher the apparatus and conclude that gripped between his fingers was something that looked like a pair of pliers. Right on cue, she started to hyperventilate.
“I said, don’t worry.” He chuckled as he lifted the pliers toward her. “They’re not what you think. I’m a sexual sadist, little girl, but not a brute.”
Her chest rose and fell even faster as her focus flew between his entertained expression and the weapon in his hand. It seemed their definitions of what constituted ‘brutality’ varied greatly.
“Remember what I told you.” He edged the pliers in her direction. “This needs to go.”
His free hand reached the base of her bra and inched the fabric from her skin.
She pressed herself into the leather seat as far as it allowed, urgently combating the alarm intensifying at the implement he wielded.
He said he wouldn’t hurt her, but Hannah was no fool.
Lawes was a man who took what he wanted without thought for the consequences, and until the police had raided his lair, he had a history of getting away with it.
Hell, the miserly prison sentence he’d served could hardly be called justice.
She braced as the dirty-looking pliers slid under her bra, her nails digging into her palms as the metal wiring in the underwear snapped under the weight of the tool.
Rather than disgust at the criminal damage, it was relief that resonated as he ripped the two halves of her lacy bra away from her breasts.
Not that she wanted to be visible to him again, but the outcome was significantly better than the one she’d feared.
He’d been true to his word for the time being. He hadn’t hurt her.
“There.” He threw the evil-looking contraption to the ground and tugged the two ends of the lace further apart. Her destroyed bra joined her unfastened blouse on either side of her bound body, exposing her pale skin to his hungry eyes. “That’s the gorgeous Hannah I remember.”
She watched, helpless, as his enormous palms moved to fondle her, time slowing down again as his calloused skin brushed her skin. Feeling the weight of both her mounds, he cupped her breasts and drew his fingertips along her goosing skin to her nipples.
Don’t. Compelling her eyelids closed for a long moment, she could no longer bear to witness her body’s response . Don’t tighten into excited buds. Don’t give him any reason to think I want this.
She groaned with frustration as her nipples duly ignored her plea, beading at his caresses and sparking the hedonism she rejected in her head.
Just as she loved the gags, she’d always enjoyed her nipples being played with, and naturally, after so much time in his clutches before, Lawes was well aware.
“Beautiful.” His purr was appreciative as his attention flitted along her vulnerable body to the apex of her thighs. “Now, there’s only one more thing to remove.”
She didn’t have to be a detective to decipher his meaning. He wanted to expose her sex in the same way he’d bared her chest. To have her virtually naked gave him what he sought the most—total control over his victim.
He lowered by the side of her chair, rising to reveal a pair of scissors in his palm.
That time, as the apparatus neared her flesh, there was less concern for her wellbeing and more anxiety about how she’d react.
She was well aware of the types of sick games Lawes played for fun, and sadly, she had a good idea how her body might respond to his degradation.
She wished she could only detest his touch, but strapped to his damn chair and powerless to prevent his will, she wondered how welcoming he’d find her pussy.
The arms of the scissors sliced either side of her delicate panties, permitting him to lift the remaining fabric between her bound legs and discard it. In a matter of seconds, she’d gone from almost fully dressed to virtually naked and absurdly defenseless.
Just the way he wants me.
“This needs to be removed.” He motioned to the soft hair between her legs, yanking it harshly.
She winced at the sudden hurt, her brow creasing with disdain.
She was already gagged and stripped, and now he thought to tell her what to do with her own body hair!
Lawes was even more odious than she’d recalled, and after the trial and therapy, she thought she’d remembered it all.
“But we can get to that.” His gaze slid down the length of her body. “First, let’s see if your pussy remembers its master.”
What are you going to do?
She almost pushed the words around the enormous ball blocking her speech but paused, unwilling to offer him the satiation he likely desired.
“I know these tits do.” The corners of his mouth tugged upward as one hand returned to her chest and brushed over her breasts. “And I have a reward for their obedience.”
Time played its old tricks as he reached into his trouser pocket and produced a new item. Hannah recognized what it was immediately, her sex clenching as she eyed the two small, black clamps and the tiny metal chain that linked them.
Nipple clamps.
Her throat dried. He really had been paying attention when she’d chatted to Saul about her innermost yearnings. She’d mentioned clamps on more than one occasion.
“Exactly.” He smirked at whatever her face had inadvertently told him. “They’re not too severe, little girl. Just enough bite for you to relish them.”
‘Not too severe’ seemed to be another matter of opinion, but it appeared there was little choice but to accept his gift as the first of the two clamps neared her left nipple.
“Eeese.”
She didn’t know what she was begging him for as she watched him pull the minute claws apart and graze them over her tight buds.
Did she want him to stop?