Chapter 5 #2
There’s a long pause. Really long. Long enough that I start to wonder if he even heard me or if maybe I said the wrong thing.
Should I be pretending I hate this? I’m all for a bit of role-play, but I assumed these situations would involve a bit of talking before diving in when we barely even know each other.
Actually, no, how could that possibly be the wrong thing to say in this situation? He tied me to a chair. He’s wearing a sexy murder mask with an unzipped hoodie and no shirt, totally showing off his abs and getting my dick hard.
We’re both clearly on the same page here.
“Your… fantasy?” he repeats, voice sounding strained. Confused, even.
I’m almost positive this isn’t normally how the whole role-play thing works, but I also stalked him and still ended up in this situation, so maybe he’s trying to flip the script. Make it unique.
“Yeah,” I confirm. “The whole kidnapping thing. You know, hitting me with your car, tying me to a chair in your basement, the sexy mask. You really pulled out all the stops here.”
He starts pacing around the basement. That’s not the reaction I was expecting either.
“I didn’t…” He stops, trailing off. “This isn’t… What the fuck?”
He scrubs a hand over his short hair, and I notice he’s not wearing gloves.
He seems more stressed than I’d expect from him in this situation he set up for us.
Maybe I’m breaking the script too much, or maybe he isn’t enjoying role-playing like he expected.
Probably realizing now that talking this through would’ve been a better move than just doing it.
“Look,” I say gently, trying to be helpful without insulting him by pointing out that he seems nervous.
“I know this is probably weird for you too. I mean, I’m guessing now that the moment is here, you’re worried I won’t actually be into this, right?
But in case you’re worried about my reaction, I just want you to know…
I’m okay with this. More than okay with it, actually. ”
“You’re okay with being kidnapped?” His voice is flat and disbelieving. Well, shit, maybe I should’ve acted more scared. Seems like my eagerness really fucked up the whole vibe.
“Well, yeah. I mean, not in the general sense. If some random person kidnapped me and actually wanted to hurt me, then that would be terrifying, you know? But you’re not random, are you, Zane?”
He goes very still as he stares at me. “How do you know my name?”
What? He’s acting like I’m the one who hit him in the head. “From the restaurant? We did the whole flirty thing earlier, and I followed you to your truck, and you ran me over. Ow, by the way, but nice touch, really sold the setup.”
“I—” He starts but cuts himself off again. “You seriously think I kidnapped you because of some fucked-up fantasy I didn’t even know you had?”
“Didn’t you?”
“No! What the fuck?” he shouts. He seems angry, and not in a turned-on way.
“Are you okay?” I check because I hate that I’ve ruined this by straying away from the fantasy.
“Am I—” He laughs, but it’s not a happy sound.
“No. No, I’m not okay! I accidentally hit you with my truck, thought I killed you, panicked that I was going to have to dig you a fucking grave while evading murder charges for the rest of my life.
Only to panic once again when you were not, in fact, dead, so I brought you to my basement to figure out how to actually kill you, and now you’re telling me this is some sort of fucking fantasy for you? I’m just trying not to go to jail!”
My brain stutters because that was a lot. “You… What?”
“I thought you were dead! You looked like you were dead in the parking lot after I hit you, and I couldn’t find your pulse. I panicked!”
I’m trying to process this, I really am, but my head is still throbbing, and it’s just not making sense to me. “So, you’re saying this was an accident? And you’re not turned on right now?”
“Why the fuck would I be turned on right now?” he shouts.
The excitement drains out of me. My dick, which has been hard for an embarrassingly long time, finally gets the memo that this isn’t a sexy, fun kidnapping experience and starts to deflate.
“Well, fuck. I can’t believe you didn’t intentionally kidnap me as a part of some elaborate dark romance fantasy. What the hell are we supposed to do now?”
“Of course I didn’t kidnap a fucking stranger to role-play! You sound insane.”
His voice is laced with frustration, and I’m feeling so beaten down by the reminder that all of this was a mistake. One giant mistake. Unless… “Well, maybe this was all a happy accident? I’m here now, we could still live out the fantasy? You’ve got to admit, this is kind of hot, right?”
“Are you seriously propositioning me right now?” He scoffs in disbelief.
“I mean, I wouldn’t be mad if you fucked my face while wearing that Jason mask. No promises I don’t actually gag on your dick though. You did a number on my head.”
He doesn’t answer right away, but I assume he’s considering it with his long pause. That is until he finally answers. “What the fuck? I’m not going to rape you!”
I sigh. “It isn’t rape. Sure, you have me tied up, and you didn’t know I’d be into it, so maybe it’s dubious consent, but I’m telling you what I want you to do.
Now that I’ve given my consent, I can pretend like you’re forcing me if you’d rather go for more of a consensual non-consent vibe? I just need a safe word.”
“I can’t fucking believe this,” he huffs, laughing to himself again in that disbelieving way. “Is this some fucked-up stalker home syndrome or something?”
“Do you mean Stockholm syndrome?”
He shakes his head. “See? I’m so fucked. I clearly don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”
He’s still pacing, not even looking at me now as he runs his hands through his short hair.
“So should I pick a safe word, or…?”
“I’m not putting my dick anywhere near you. I don’t need to add that to my list of crimes,” he insists, despite my clear CNC explanation. Then, almost as an afterthought, he adds, “Not that I want to, anyway. I’m straight.”
Sure he is. That’s why he had so many consent concerns and took so long to say no to my suggestion.
“Listen, if you’re still struggling to accept yourself, or you’re not out yet, you can pretend.
It’s all part of the role-play, anyway. Maybe this was my punishment for tempting you, or oh—maybe it’s like a prison situation where you tell yourself it isn’t gay because I’m your only option.
Or maybe as your prisoner, my gender doesn’t really matter because I’m yours to use however you—”
“Jesus fucking Christ, shut up,” he shouts, interrupting, probably because my ideas are turning him on and now he’s conflicted about it. “I can’t believe I have to repeat myself. I’m not going to fuck you, throat or anywhere else. That’s not happening.”
I roll my eyes. “Your loss. I’ve been told I suck dick like a vacuum.”
“What the fuck? Who says that?” he groans.
“Men who’ve had their dicks in my mouth. But fine, fine, if you’re truly not attracted to me, I’m not going to pressure you. Since you won’t fulfill my fantasy, can I go now?”
“No,” he bites out. “I almost killed you, and I did kidnap you. I can’t just let you go, especially since you know who I am. I can’t go to jail. I have way too much to live for.”
“Okay, well, it’s fine because I’m not going to go to the police,” I assure him.
Obviously, I don’t want to deal with all that.
So many questions. Plus, what if Zane changes his mind now that I’ve planted the idea?
I’d be down to try again, minus the whole hitting me with his truck part.
Wait. We might have an actual problem. “Also, if you don’t let me go, who’s going to take care of Piet? ”