Chapter 6
EMME
No matter how I curled up, I couldn’t stop shivering.
The cold from the concrete floor leeched up through the scratchy blanket he’d thrown my way.
I’d tried folding it into thirds and lying beneath one layer, or lying on top of it, but the basement room was ice cold.
My clothes, when I found the shreds left of them, weren’t much help, but I wrapped them around myself anyway.
The darkness in the room was the kind where I couldn’t tell if my eyes were open or closed, and the house was absolutely silent other than the faint hum of electricity and the infrequent knocking of plumbing.
What if he forgot about me?
There was no way to know if he was even home.
I’d groped my way to the door after what seemed like a ridiculous amount of searching, considering the size of the room.
Every step made me worry I would trip over something.
And I had almost fallen over those chairs.
With my hands tied that was likely going to hurt.
Even crazier, I feared falling off an edge into a bottomless hole.
The blackness was that absolute. Although the doorknob turned in my hand, the door wouldn’t budge.
There didn’t seem to be a deadbolt, so there must be a bar or a lock on the outside.
I lay huddled in the blanket, trying to figure out if I’d been abducted for real. Nothing he was doing seemed safe or sane, even if it was technically consensual.
I had signed up for this kind of treatment.
Was I enjoying it?
The memory of him—his cruel face, and big, rough hands—made me shiver harder. He was hot, but the kind of hot that made you wonder if there were women buried in his backyard. There was just something…disturbing about him. Like, this wasn’t a roleplay.
When I’d gone into this, I’d thought it was what I wanted. But now?
It was debasing and degrading, but the man definitely knew what he was doing when it came to consensual non-consent.
If this actually was CNC.
If it wasn’t…
God, Charity wouldn’t even realize I was missing for at least a week.
Our trail would be cold. There was no way the police would be able to find me here—not when there was no link between Mr. Scott and me.
Charity had wanted me to put a tracking app on my phone so she could find me if things went wrong, but I’d refused.
I’d wanted this to feel as real as possible.
Was this too real?
How much danger was I in?
Even if he wasn’t dangerous but followed through and kept me a few more days, it might ruin me in the eyes of the college. A police investigation would reveal my weird kinks.
My mind drifted, abandoning the discomfort of my body to replay what he’d done to me.
Shit—he’d fucked me with no condom, and he might not even be the man I talked to about testing and safety.
I had a quiet panic attack that seemed to go on for hours, but there was no way to know how long I’d been down here.
Eventually, a beam of light shone under the door.
At first, I thought it was my imagination—my brain playing a trick on me.
I had almost given up on ever seeing anything again.
The door opened, and more light fell into the room.
I squinted, even though it wasn’t that bright.
What I assumed was Mr. Scott stood backlit in the doorway, the very outline of him looking sinister.
There was an air of malevolence about him even though he hadn’t moved or said anything.
“Bathroom?”
“Yes, please.” I said, my voice more of a croak than I would’ve expected after what had probably been only a few hours. Maybe it had been longer?
As he came toward me, I scrambled away, pressing my back to the cinderblock wall behind me.
“What are you going to do?”
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
My nipples puckered tighter at the threat in his deep voice.
“Easy way,” I blurted.
He fastened a collar around my neck and locked it with a small padlock, clipped a leash to me, then untied my hands. I flexed my fingers. The asshole hadn’t checked me for circulation problems. Yet another tick on the scary box marked: This man really is a psycho.
Rather than help me to my feet, he simply gave the leash a tug, expecting me to follow along.
I pushed myself off the cold floor. My legs wobbled, but held me, even though I was stiff.
I was grateful he hadn’t put the bag over my head this time, but I didn’t say so aloud in case it had been an oversight.
We made our way upstairs, and I was ashamed that he didn’t even think I was enough of a threat to keep his eyes on me.
Kicking him or hitting him with something raised a multitude of problems. If he was the Dom, I would be assaulting the man I asked to take me.
And if he wasn’t…anything might be done to me.
Anything. I knew his strength. He could grab me and hold me against the wall…
and there I was finding that exciting, again.
I followed, chastened by my own spinning thoughts.
At least the leash was looped around his wrist. Apparently, I was a flight risk even if I wasn’t a physical threat.
He gestured for me to go into the bathroom and closed the door behind me, no doubt confident I couldn’t escape from a windowless room.
I could hear him shifting outside the door, but at least I had some privacy.
I took a few minutes to use the toilet and used the hand soap beside the sink to scrub my face clean of smeared makeup and the crusted trail of come that had dried on my skin.
My first glimpse of myself in the mirror had been disturbing—eyes wide, with deep shadows underneath, against skin that looked unnaturally pale.
Without the smears of makeup I looked more vulnerable, and young.
Like a na?ve girl. Maybe I had been na?ve.
Charity had begged me not to do this, but I’d been so sure it was relatively safe…
Even if Mr. Scott was Charity’s friend, there were no guarantees that she knew him as well as she thought she did.
The man could still be a murderer, even if she trusted him—even if he’d never done it before.
I had put myself at his mercy, and yet I knew nothing about the quality of his mercy.
Quietly, I checked the cabinets, but found them all completely empty. The man wasn’t stupid.
A mostly empty tube of toothpaste sat on the sink.
As I brushed my teeth with my finger, the door opened. I jumped back even though there was nowhere to go. He wrapped the leash around his hand again and pointed at the sink.
“Spit.”
Had he known everything I was doing in here?
I obeyed him, since there was no reason not to, took a quick gulp of water, then followed him into one of the most beautiful kitchens I’d ever seen.
Sunlight shone in through the wide square windows, dappling soft light over cream walls and pots of greenery on the opposite counter.
Modern appliances were everywhere and not a speck of dirt.
It reminded me there was a reality outside of these walls.
If he was a stranger, why was he letting me see his house? I’d be able to identify it, especially with the daring choice of tile for the backsplash. Maybe he didn’t plan to let me go.
Last night I’d reminded him this was only for one week, but he had never agreed or offered me any kind of reassurance.
“I was going to give you a bath, but I think I need to feed you first.”
He gestured at one of the kitchen chairs, and I hesitated, squeamish about sitting down since I was completely naked and still leaking.
Gingerly, I sat, tucking my legs up to one side and finding a way to perch there without tipping off the chair.
“At least it’s only your pussy dripping this time. It will be your ass, too, soon enough.”
I cleared my throat, feeling the heat of a blush traveling my cheeks. “But you said you weren’t into anal.”
“When did I say that?”
“When we were texting.” My stomach lurched. I’d never tried anal but had been willing to let him do it if he were careful. He’d said it wasn’t his thing anyway. So why the change of heart?
“I don’t have your number, so how would I have texted you? I suppose I could get your number from your phone, but when I picked you up, I put it in a bag that makes it untraceable so no one will interrupt us.”
“We’re still pretending you’re a complete stranger?”
“It’s not a game, Emme. It’s the truth.”
“Then why bother keeping my phone at all? If you’re not going to let me go and give it back, why would you bother keeping it?”
He shrugged, his muscular physique looking all the more mouthwatering in the faded T-shirt and gray track pants he was wearing.
I could tell he had showered, and my nakedness and lack of cleanliness made me feel as if I was at even more of a disadvantage.
I glanced down and ran a finger over one of the bruises he had left on the front of my thigh.
“If you must know, I plan to mine it for information about you, and to go through your pictures. It will be fun to compare the old you to the one I turn you into once I’ve played with you a while.”
I pounced on that. “So you do plan on letting me go?”
“Maybe if I get bored.”
“How does that make any sense? You know I’ll go out of my way to bore you if that’s the case.”
“I didn’t say I’d drop you off at your apartment and that you’d go back to your old life. I haven’t decided what I’ll do yet when the charm of owning you wears off. Maybe I’ll sell you, or maybe I’ll kill you. I guess it depends on how I feel about you and your efforts to please me.”
Shit. My heart thudded like it wanted out of my chest. Mindfuck?
“I’m a captive, not your slave.” I rushed the words. “You don’t own me.”
“Don’t I?”
“People can’t own people anymore.”
“What a delightfully sheltered notion.” His slow smile made me shiver. There was nothing nice about it, even though he did seem amused. He set a paper plate down in front of me, as well as a plate of bacon and toast in the middle of the table. “Coffee? Tea? Juice?”