Chapter 12
Mason
I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything this beautiful, this captivating and invigorating. The way she convolves under the vibrations, her face contorted in grimaces born out of pain and delight alike, the way her cheeks are flushing and sweat blends with tears as it pearls down along the side of her face—it’s a sight to behold.
But when her eyes roll back into her head for one last time, before she closes them and her entire body goes limp, I know it’s time to stop. She doesn’t even react when I turn off the Hitachi. There’s no breath of relief, no thankful smile, nothing. She remains still, her worn out body sunken into the mattress and motionless while I slowly begin to untie her wrists and ankles.
I groan as I hover above her, trying to ignore the hardness that fights against its fabric cage with every movement. My craving for her is almost unbearable, my cock in such desperate need to be buried deep inside of her—but it will have to wait. I’ll have to rub one out later, just to be able to think straight.
But now, I have more important business to attend to. I have to take care of her, as is my responsibility. I free her legs first and wait for a moment to see whether she’ll use this newfound freedom to move against my wishes. She could just be faking it, even though I doubt she is. And when she remains as still and seemingly out of it as before, I continue to untie her, removing the Hitachi from her legs, before I lean over her pretty face. There’s a hint of a flinch when I touch her face, caressing her cheek while I tuck a strand of dampened hair behind her ear, but she doesn’t open her eyes.
Carefully, I open the cuff around her right wrist first, then the left, closing my hand around her dainty arm, just in case. I wait another moment, observing and giving both of us a moment to recover from this first challenge—before we’ll move on to the next.
Her eyelids are fluttering when I pick her up in my arms, but she’s still not moving, neither trying to fend me off nor supporting herself in any way as I lift her up.
Still, I need to be careful. As weak as she may appear, I know she’s anything but. She has already proven more than once that there’s more to her than being a fragile little victim. I wasn’t wrong when I said that she brought this on herself. She may not have asked for this in particular, but she did defy me, several times, even when it would have been so much easier for her to just go along with my demands. I know why she did it—and that’s exactly the reason why she’s here.
I hoist her over my shoulder, securing her with one arm while using the other to open the door. My grip on her tightens as soon as we leave the basement, as I prepare for her to jerk up and try to run at any moment.
But it doesn’t happen. She’s still out of it when we reach the ground floor of the house, and still hanging over my shoulder like a sack of hay by the time I make my way up the stairs. It’s not until we reach the second floor that she suddenly begins to move, a faint mewl coming from her lips while she begins squirming.
“I...I...,” she murmurs.
I pause, grabbing her with both hands and slowly letting her slide down on her own two feet, while still keeping her in a firm grip. Her hip slides along my steely length, and it takes all of my strength to refrain from fucking her right here on the spot. The desire to be inside that wet pussy of hers is so strong and so outrageously demanding, that I can barely think straight.
Her legs give in at first, but I hold her up, wrapping both my arms around her slim body to support her. Moaning, she manages to stand on her own two feet, staggering within my embrace. She clings on to me, her hands closing around the fabric of my shirt while she fights to lift her face up to mine.
“I...,” she stutters again, pausing to take a deep breath before she manages to continue speaking. “I need to... pee.”
Lashes fluttering, she lowers her head in shame, her body temperature rising enough for me to feel the radiating heat.
“Please... can I... pee?”
Her voice is so small, as is her whole stance.
“Of course,” I reply. “If you promise to behave.”
“I promise.”
“You promise what?” I probe, snaking my fingers around her upper arm in a tight grip. It’s a warning she understands.
“I promise to behave,” she whispers. “Sir.”
“Good girl,” I praise. “Can you walk on your own or do I have to carry you?”
She inhales deeply, biting her lower lip before she nods. “I can walk.”
“Okay, come with me then.”
Keeping my grip around her upper arm, I cautiously let go of her, making sure that she can keep her balance on her own, before I give her a gentle push, jutting my chin to the right, where a brightly lit corridor leads down to the bedroom I have prepared for her.
It’s completely dark outside by now, but I can’t say for sure what time it is. Late enough for the ward to realize that she’s gone, but still too early for them to call me to tell me that a patient has gone missing. I’ve made it clear from the beginning that I want them to keep me posted on anything out of the ordinary, as small as it may be, so I expect a call at some point tonight. However, in this case I’m most certainly not the first on their list. They will probably call her father first, maybe one of her brothers, too, if Grace is as important to them as she made it seem.
We’ll see how long it’ll take them to accept that Grace is not coming back, and that she hasn’t sought out her family either.
She’s more stable and aware by the time we reach the bathroom. I give her a little push, so she enters the room first, still swaying a little. I follow right behind her and—much to her surprise—close the door behind my back.
“Go ahead,” I tell her, pointing to the white porcelain toilet next to the large bathtub beneath the window at the opposite side of the room. “Pee.”
She looks at me through wide eyes, wrapping her arms around her shoulders, a display of her discomfort.
“With you in here?” she asks.
I nod. “Yes.”
She shakes her head with intent. “No. Please. I promise I won’t do anything stu-”
“You’ll pee with me in here, or not at all,” I cut her off. “You want me to bring you back downstairs and tie you to that bed again, so you can soil yourself and lay in your own pee?”
She grimaces in disgust.
“Thought so,” I say. “Well, I guess then you have no other choice.”
I gesture toward the toilet again, adding an encouraging nod. “I won’t wait forever, and I’m sure you can’t wait forever.”
Her eyes follow my gesture, a deep crease emerging between her brows, while she slowly moves toward the toilet.
“You’re sick,” she breathes, her face turned away, while she lifts the lid.
“Thanks,” I retort.
She lowers her head as she sits down, her hair falling down over her shoulders and shielding her face from me.
I don’t accept that.
“Look at me,” I demand.
Her shoulders move up to her ears, and for a moment it seems like she wants to defy me, and ask for another punishment. But she recollects herself. Her eyes turn to narrow slits as she lifts her face and turns around to meet my scrutinizing gaze.
“Good girl.”
The praise is lost on her, as it appears. Her expression only grows more sour, and her lips are twitching as if she’s stopping herself from saying something she might regret.
I wait until she’s finished and then point to the bathtub at the window. The shutters are closed from the outside, so she can crane her neck all she wants as she slowly moves to the tub, trying to catch a glimpse outside. She won’t see anything, she won’t hear anything, and—most importantly—she won’t be seen or heard by anyone else out here.
“Get inside,” I command, standing right behind her as she comes to a halt in front of the tub.
“What are y-”
“Get inside!”
She flinches at the volume of my voice, but follows my order like a good little girl, moving slowly as she climbs into the tub and sinks down onto the porcelain. Her inquiring look rests on me as I open the faucet.
“You’re filthy from all that sweating and coming,” I inform her. “We need to clean you.”
“I can do that by myself,” she interjects.
“I know you can, but you’re not allowed.”
Despair blossoms on her face, and as beautiful as it is, I will not tolerate this form of rejection much longer. And I know I won’t have to. She’ll want me soon enough—more than she’s ever wanted anything or anyone before.
I will make sure of that.