Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Ashleigh
P ain and nausea. That’s the only thing I know as I try to crack my eyes open. Why do I feel so horrible?
My gut clenches as a sliver of light comes through my slitted eyelids. All it does is make me want to squeeze them shut and never open them again. It doesn’t stop the pain, though.
The ache pounds through my skull, throbbing with each breath I force into my lungs. Soft sounds permeate my brain, making the discomfort even worse. Who knew crickets were so loud and annoying? I sure as hell didn’t.
Cool air brushes my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. Great. More pain. Is Dean Anderson doing something different with me? Whatever it is, it doesn’t feel good. When is he going to give me the pleasure that helps take the edge off?
As I force my eyes to open again, a riot of colors assaults my senses. Reds, whites, golds, and blacks swim in and out of view. It’s as if they move about in some discordant circle. None of this makes sense.
I try again and almost instantly wish I hadn’t. A decrepit carousel wobbles about as it turns on gears that creak and groan with each little movement. Why is this on campus?
“Please,” a male voice whimpers nearby. “I have money. Lots of it. You can have whatever you want. Please, just let me go.”
I know that voice. What is Caldwell doing here? As if his name is the catalyst, memories pour into my mind, shattering it open until pain rips through my skull. The text. The abandoned fairground. I was hit. Someone hit me.
Glancing over to the side, I follow the voice until I see Caldwell locked in a filthy cage. His designer clothes are ripped and torn, with smatterings of blood staining the jagged edges. Did we both get jumped?
It’s agony to remain still and alert, but I do my best. I keep my breathing shallow as I take further inventory of myself. So far, the only real pain is in my head. Granted, it’s bad enough that any of the smaller pains get a bit swallowed up by it.
Closing my eyes, I turn off the nausea for a moment as I take further inventory. Toes wiggle. Fingers wiggle. That’s the far extremities. I don’t dare move any other bigger muscles for fear of alerting whoever this is that I’m awake. While they still think I’m asleep, I might have a chance.
A dull ache blossoms in my shoulders as an ungodly burn threatens to tear the fabric of my muscles. Unfortunately, I can’t look to see what’s happening to them. My arms are still attached, but that seems to be the only thing I can figure out.
As I hang there, everything twists and turns in infinitesimal movements. Am I dangling? As I try to move my toes again, they brush against the ground, but just barely. I’m hanging. Strung up by my wrists. It’s the only way to explain the agony shooting down my arms.
That is when the pain actually niggles its way through the incessant discomfort coming from my head. Thankfully, with all the blood draining down, parts of me actually feel a touch numb. It’s only when moving that it roars to life in a way that’s hard to ignore.
Tears prick the edges of my eyelids and threaten to spill down my cheeks. If this monster sees them, though, he’ll know I’m conscious. What will he do to me then? Drawing in a slow, shaking breath, I force myself to remain as still and calm as I possibly can. With any luck, I can fool him for a bit longer.
“Stop pretending,” the gruff voice barks out. “I already saw your eyes open.”
Fuck.
So much for that.
“How are you feeling?”
The voice seeps into my mind and tickles at my memories. I know this voice. I know I know it. How do I know it? Why do I know it?
Again, I look over at Caldwell as he huddles in his cage. The stench of urine encircles us, causing my gut to cramp and acid line the insides of my mouth. As horrible as it tastes, I swallow it down. If I start puking now, I might not be able to stop.
“Do you really think he’s going to save you?” The voice drifts over me, burrowing into my mind. “He can’t even save himself.”
“What do you want from me?” I do my best to infuse a bite of backbone into my words, but they only come out as soft and ineffectual.
“I shouldn’t be surprised you think this is all about you. Little rich girl like yourself. It makes sense you’d internalize it.”
Confusion muddles my brain as the pain continues to pound behind my eyes. “You have me trapped here. Obviously, it has something to do with me.” As I try to think this through, the ache only grows until I’m forced to just stop and breathe. “I didn’t lure Caldwell out here. So you’re not here for him. It has to be me.”
“Oh, na?ve little Ashleigh,” the voice murmurs from behind. “You can’t even see a scenario where you’d be the one who’s bait? Tsk, tsk, tsk. I hadn’t pegged you as self-centered, but that’s a good tidbit to have.”
“Do I know you?”
“Yes. You do. We’ve met on a few occasions. I would be hurt that you can’t recognize my voice, but then, you did suffer a decent blow to the back of the head.”
His fingers dance along the back of the skull, drawing forth an agonizing wail from my lips. Darkness threatens to encroach again, but I refuse to let it. I have to figure out what’s going on if I want any hope of staying alive. I just have to think.
If only it wasn’t so fucking painful.
Caldwell’s soft sobs next to me grate along my spine, flooding my brain with extra noise that only makes things worse. “Shut the fuck up,” I finally screech, earning me another skull-splitting headache.
Thankfully, though, it does its job. Soon, everything goes back to silence, giving me a small space in which to breathe.
“Who do you want, then? My parents have money. They’ll pay to see me unharmed. Hell, I’m sure Caldwell’s parents will do the same. He’s their only son. You don’t have to do this. You can get what you want.”
“Oh? And you know what I want? How adorable. You don’t even know your own self yet. You’re just a child play acting as an adult. Besides, money, I have in spades. It’s power I want. Power is the only thing worth having. But you wouldn’t know that since you gave away your power for a good fuck.”
I play his words over in my mind as I try to make sense of them. When did I give up my power? My stomach flips as jagged pieces do their best to come together, but nothing really seems to fit. If only I could think. Unfortunately, the more I struggle, the harder it becomes.
Exhaustion drips down on me like warm sap on a hot summer’s day, urging me to slip back under the cloak of unconsciousness. Everything will be better if I can just give in and go to sleep. No more pain. No more fear. Just blessed sleep.
“Oh, don’t go back under on me just yet,” the voice rasps out as something sharp glides down the side of my neck. “I haven’t even started playing with you.”
A knife. That’s the only thing that makes sense. Doing my best to keep my breathing even, I sink down into my soul and conjure up Dean Anderson. He used a knife on me, and it felt glorious. Maybe if I can pretend, it will hurt less.
“Ahh. What was I thinking? Of course, a little slut like you would enjoy that. I bet you’re just soaking wet, aren’t you?”
His hand slides down into the front of my pants and over my underwear. Nausea bubbles up inside me, threatening to make me hurl. It would serve him right for me to puke all over him.
As his fingers move my thong aside, my body bursts into a flurry of motion. Each jerk sends renewed agony through my skull and arms, but I can’t just let him touch me like this. I can’t allow him to assault me.
“Feisty,” the voice rumbles through my brain as a hand yanks my head back by my hair. A sob wrenches from my throat and hovers in the air. “I can see why he likes you. I too want a submissive I can break. Too bad he got to you first. We would have had a lot of fun together.”
His words cut through the gathering haze as they begin to make sense. It’s obviously someone in The Society. No one else would know any of these things. But who? Who knew about me?
Again, I mull his voice over in my head, doing my best to distract myself as his bold hand tugs at the edge of my underwear again. Think, Ashleigh. Think. Who can this be?
There’s no trace of Russian, so it can’t be the guys who are friends with Dean Anderson. It’s certainly not Doctor Andrew. His voice has a very distinct, sharp and cultured undertone to it. Can’t be Coach Luke. It’s not young enough. Could it possibly be Professor Richards?
Closing my eyes, I think back to the class I have with him. No. There’s something about this voice that’s not quite right. There’s a hint of a strong New York accent, far different than the others I encountered the night I snuck into the initiation. I also don’t think it’s Doctor Bradley, but I’m far less certain of that.
The stranger’s hands get far too close to my pussy to be able to bear. Helpless, I twist again in my bonds, but all that does is wrench my arms and makes my head fuzzy. It does nothing to stop his fingers from slipping past the flimsy fabric barrier for him to touch me in an intimate way.
A loud buzzing fills my ears as he forces a finger inside me. The pain of his raw intrusion drives a cry from my lips. All I can think is thank God I’m not actually wet from this. He’d take it as some sort of sign I want him. But then, would he even really care about that?
Tears slide down my face in earnest as the pain, terror, and exhaustion beat at me. Everything in me wants to shatter, to just give in to the hysteria welling up in my chest. But I can’t. To give in would be to stop fighting. And I will never stop fighting.
Never.
“Such pretty tears,” he murmurs as his hot breath washes over my skin. “I wonder if they’ll make a good lubricant. At least something on you is wet. But don’t worry, you’ll be begging me to come by the time I’m done with you. In the meantime, you have a phone call to make.”
He pulls out the phone and opens it up. There is the Dean’s contact number. At least that’s one part of this confirmed.
“I expected him to be here by now, but seeing as you have no connection to The Society on your phone, no app, no nothing to tie you to us, I believe it’s safe to assume he has no idea where you are. Come now, be a good little submissive and tell your Master where to find us.”