Chapter Nine
Ravi
Against the odds, I managed to fall asleep.
When I wake again I jerk off, because I always wake up horny, so of course I do. And after Liam’s rage-fueled early morning spanking session?
I don’t know if rage-jerking is a thing, but that’s pretty much the shape of things this morning.
The first time I knew about Liam and the things he was into, it was senior year of high school, and I’d gone out to see a Batman movie.
Except I needed gas, and I’d forgotten my wallet on the top of my dresser. The place I’d stopped at didn’t have a way to pay with my phone. I turned around, only to see a light on in Liam’s garage. The garage was the one place I’d been told to stay the hell out of.
Sneaking around to the side door where there was a small window, I finally realized why. Liam had friends over. Or at least a small group of acquaintances who didn’t mind getting naked together.
Strapped to a table in the middle of the room was a woman.
College age at the time, if I had to guess.
Liam and three of his friends stood around her, all fully clothed at first while the girl was completely naked.
I watched, fascinated, as they took turns touching her.
They pinched her and slapped her, sucked her nipples, used dildos and other things I didn’t recognize, eventually taking turns fucking her and covering her with cum until she looked as if someone had thrown a meringue pie in her face.
At the time I was so confused. About the fact that she seemed so into the way they treated her, and the fact that it had made me hard.
Well, it wasn’t her so much. It was the guys.
The things they did to her. The sight of Liam, the golden tan of his back as his muscles bunched, his ass clenching and flexing while he fucked her.
The other guys too, but most of all Liam.
It took a while to realize I’d wanted to be in the girl’s place. I’d wanted Liam to touch me the way he’d been touching her. I’d wanted him to hurt me in the way that blurred the lines between pleasure and pain.
I pulled out my phone to buy a movie ticket for a different weekend and then jerked off standing there outside the window like a stalker.
Eventually I figured out that when Liam was “having the guys over to play poker” it didn’t mean a card game.
It became a habit, lying to Liam that I was leaving when his friends came over and then doubling back to see what was happening in the garage.
It wasn’t every weekend, and a lot of times he had to travel for work, but I got quite an education.
The biggest surprise? One week, instead of one of a revolving selection of college girls, it was a college boy.
He was lean with dark skin. Tall and muscular, with a strong jaw that clenched when he got on all fours and braced himself.
Liam whipped him with some sort of strap and then fucked him.
Liam always went first. Whatever this group was about, Liam was clearly in charge.
And clearly he didn’t mind fucking guys. It gave me hope.
That was then, though. Before Liam had done things like tracking my every move and locking me in my room.
“Shit.” With my hand covered in cum, I look around the room and realize I’ve got a problem. The door is still locked. Which means I can’t go clean up in the hall bathroom.
For lack of a better option, I lift up the blanket on my bed and wipe my hand off on the sheet. If Liam wants to lock me in here, he can be the one to wash the cum off my sheets.
I feel like I should be sorry about that, but I’m not. After cleaning up as best as I can and searching my room, I come to a depressing realization. While I was gone last night, he must have eliminated everything he thought I could possibly use to bust out of here.
“He stole all my stuff,” I mutter. To Mr. Bear, to myself, but mostly to the universe. Because honestly, I’m not sure what to do right now.
It’s not only my phone and laptop that are gone.
My keys are gone from where I dropped them on the bedside table.
So is the portable screwdriver set I keep in case I need to take apart my computer case.
The adjustable kettlebell set I keep in my closet for when I can’t get to the gym is gone.
Annoying, since sending it through the window would’ve been an easy way to get out.
My eyeglass repair kit is missing. Even the pens from my desk drawer are gone.
But the one thing he didn’t take?
My backpack. I had it on me when I climbed through the window early this morning. Given that Liam is too calculating not to realize I might have something in there he’d want to take, my guess is he was too busy lecturing me to even notice.
Or too busy turning my ass red.
Thunder rumbles outside. Dammit. Normally I love a good rainy day, but not now.
My backpack search turns up some school supplies, a spare pair of booty shorts from last night’s party (because you never know what might happen), a spare shirt, and a bottle of water. Another one of Dean’s granola bars. He gave me an extra on our way out.
Oh. Wait.
I’ve also got a paperback of The Grapes of Wrath, which I’ve been reading for lit class. I’ve been using a paperclip to mark my pages. Ha.
“Point for me, Liam.”
Falling down research rabbit holes is kind of my thing, and once upon a time I got obsessed with videos on how to pick different locks when I couldn’t sleep. Handcuffs. Bedroom door locks. Padlocks.
I’ve only ever picked the lock on a bedroom door, and only ever from the hallway side. That was easy, but it won’t work here. Liam’s locked it from the outside. Another padlock, I’m guessing.
So, I get to work on the window. Which is not, in my opinion, as easy as the guy in the video I saw made it look.
It takes long enough that I’m getting discouraged as I work at the window lock. My neck and back start to hurt from bending and squinting. My palms sweat from nerves.
Every couple of minutes I stop to listen, sweating as I strain for the sound of a door or tires on gravel. I don’t know when Liam will be back. Will he come storming in to check on me and catch me trying to escape?
Do I want him to catch me? Will he try and spank me again? My cock thickens at the thought.
Honestly, is it awful that I sort of wish he would? The trouble is, he probably wouldn’t now that he knows I liked it.
I’ve nearly given up when something pops and the lock springs free. “Yes!”
“Oh. Wow.” I hold the lock up for Mr. Bear as I stuff him into my backpack along with some extra clothes. “Did you see that? I got it open. Yessss.”
It’s silly, but Mr. Bear has become something of a confidant over the years.
I should really get moving before Liam comes back. Which is going to suck, because there’s a storm absolutely raging outside. Still, I don’t have much choice.
I grab whatever I think I might need for at least a few days while I cram my single granola bar into my mouth and use the water bottle to wash it down.
Liam may have taken the cash I had saved up in my room, but I still have the tip money from last night’s party hidden in my pencil case. It’s only about a grand, but it’ll get me by until the auction. Then I should be home free.
Where I won’t be is here.
I’m soaked by the time I make it out the window. Then there’s the challenge of getting down the post I usually climb, which is mossy and slippery now that it’s wet. Not knowing how much time I have, I try to hurry.
About halfway down, my hand slips. Gravity yanks me to the muddy ground, knocking the breath out of me. It takes a lot of wheezing and coughing before I can get up onto my hands and knees, and when I do, I’m a mess.
Also, there are feet in front of my face.
There’s a second of panic mixed with…am I actually getting turned on again? Then I realize these are not the black military-issue boots Liam wears. They’re a pair of high-end dress shoes, which means, probably Michael?
I stand to face my fellow escort. He’s wisely wearing a rain poncho over his designer khakis and buttoned shirt, but the dark skin on his hands and face are splattered with rain.
Which probably means he’s been standing out here for a minute.
His expensive-smelling cologne wafts my way as he looks at me with concern.
“Hi. Uh. I didn’t expect to see you here?”
I don’t mean to talk in questions. I don’t even like that I do. It just sort of happens.
Michael smiles patiently. “I’m driving rideshare this weekend. Simon sent a text. Said this Liam guy you’re staying with had your phone, and he was worried something might have happened. I volunteered to come check things out. Is everything okay? Why does someone else have your phone?”
Okay, well I’m not touching that last question. I squirm a little, standing there in the rain, scratching my cheek in my nervousness. Which I think got mud on my face. Ew.
I look down at myself. At my mud-spattered clothes. The cut on my shin that must have happened when I fell. “I won’t lie to you, Michael. It’s been better.”
I give him the briefest, too-long-didn’t-listen version of my last twenty-four hours. Minus the spanking.
“I don’t think he’s tracking my phone since he took it with him,” I finish. “But he keeps finding me.”
Michael points to my arm. “What about your watch?”
I hold up my arm. “It was a gift from my dad. I never take it off, except to shower.”
Michael looks at me as if I might be stupid. Which maybe I am, because it takes me a second. “Right. Why didn’t I think of that?”
Of course Liam would hide some sort of GPS locator in the one thing other than my phone that I always have on me. Something with sentimental value, no less. Of course he would.
I take it off, hesitating because I really don’t want to leave one of the few things I have left from my parents.
I’ve got the watch, and I’ve got Mr. Bear.
Everything else got sold off. It’s not even a nice watch.
The band is plastic. But I’m used to the solid weight of it on my arm. It’s practically a part of me.
Except, if Liam finds me again, I’ll be stuck in that bedroom until I’m thirty. After a beat, I slip it into the top of the barbecue grill. That should keep him guessing for a while.
“Can you give me a ride? Liam took my keys and phone. I can pay you with cash, though?”
Michael clicks his tongue and shakes his head at me again. “Friends give friends rides for free, man. Let’s go. Brennan’s got his panties all in a twist. You were supposed to be at Shadow, like, an hour ago.”
As we head to his car, I resist the urge to look back. If I do, I might not be able to go.