24. Trust
Trust
S neaking into Jack’s home was getting expensive. Why did he have to live so far out from downtown?
Privacy to murder.
I went back into his home, using the same method as last time.
Before checking the desk, I grabbed a stool, pulled it to the shelf, and climbed.
I didn’t want to take the chance he’d discover the camera, so I took it down, proud I’d gotten away with all this.
What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him—I kept repeating that to myself.
Still, I couldn’t help the pang of guilt churning my stomach.
When the camera was back in my messenger bag, I strode to the desk, eager to finally see what the red binder held inside.
I pulled out the drawers in the same order he had, and finally, the middle one.
My pulse quickened when the binder came into view, and I grabbed it with trembling hands.
I let out a breath as I grabbed the cover and opened it.
Empty save for a note.
I don’t tolerate betrayal, Jill.
The words didn’t make sense at first. It was as though I understood them, but they weren’t registering inside my mind. I dropped the binder and took a step back as though it would suddenly attack me. He knew. How? I closed the drawer and rushed to the door, grabbing my bag as I went.
Locked.
It was as though my heart was stuck in my throat, and I couldn’t breathe.
Why was it suddenly locked? What happened?
The doorknob turned, but it hit something with a heavy clunk.
I ran to the windows, but my heart sank when I realized most didn’t open; the few that did had bars at the bottom or were too small for me to get out of.
My breath was shallow as I stared around. Black spots obscured my vision, and I crouched on the floor, dropping my head low. I had to think. There had to be a way out. No way would I stay here and wait for him to come home.
He already knows.
No. He couldn’t. I’d been so careful. Chills ran down my spine as I straightened and looked around.
The elevator. Maybe the basement had a way out of here.
I ran to it, shaking as I opened the freight door and stepped inside.
My fingers trembled as I pressed the button to go down, and I held my breath.
All I had to do was find a door. Or something.
If worse came to worst, I could hide somewhere and try leaving when he got back and the door unlocked again.
Why was it locked? The question kept repeating in my head over and over again.
The elevator stopped, and the freight door was already opened. My mind went blank as I stared at Jack.
He stood in the middle of the room, near a tarp on the floor, arms crossed. His calm exterior didn’t match the fire burning in his eyes, and I took a step back. I’d never seen him this angry before. Was this what he looked like beneath the mask when he was about to kill people?
“ Jill, Jill, Jill, ” he cooed my name, and for once, it didn’t send the usual butterflies in my stomach.
I backed away as he approached, raising my hands up as though that would somehow stop him. “Please no. No, no.” Tears flooded my eyes, and I didn’t care I was crying. I was terrified. Not of death but of dying then and there. It wasn’t time yet.
I backed into the corner of the elevator, and he stopped a few feet away. He was beyond angry; he was furious. He didn’t look it, but I could tell by the way he stared at me. This wasn’t something bargaining could fix.
“Do you really think I’d keep any trophies here?” he asked quietly. “And don’t you think I’d already have cameras installed here to keep people out?”
My heart hammered in my chest. “I―”
“Imagine my surprise last night when I got an alert that someone broke into my home.” He slid his hand behind my head, grabbing a fistful of my hair.
“I watched you install that little camera of yours, and all I had to do was play your little game.” He wrenched back, and I hissed through my teeth at the pain.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Not yet.”
“Please tell me how to fix this. I’ll do anything. Please, Jack.”
He stared at me for a few seconds. “You want to fix it?”
“Yes,” I nodded despite it pulling harder on my hair. “I want... I need you to forgive me.”
He scoffed and released his grip as he took a step back. “Betrayal isn’t something―”
I fell to my knees and crawled toward him. I wasn’t afraid of dying. Not even if it was then and there, but to have him angry with me in my last moments? That I couldn’t deal with.
“Please don’t hate me,” I said through tears, gripping his black slacks and holding on as though he might rip me away.
“I’m so, so sorry. I wanted to know, but it was wrong of me.
I was wrong to do that. Please...I’ll do anything.
” I sobbed harder. Every relationship in my life flashed through my mind as Martin’s words repeated.
Everything was transactional. I was nothing but a favor.
He grasped my arms and picked me up from the floor. “You’d really do anything for me to forgive you?” His thumbs traced along my skin, and I shivered.
“Yes.” I didn’t hesitate. Whatever it was, I wanted to prove to him I could be trusted. That I’d never betray him ever again.
He kissed me, and I melted into him. Wasn’t he angry? Why was he being affectionate? When he pulled away, I panted against his lips, my heartbeat fast.
“I forgive you,” he said quietly. “But I still have an ask...”
“Really?” When he nodded, a half-laugh, half-cry left my mouth. I nodded. “Anything.”
He slid his hands to my back. “I want to chain you to a post and whip you.”
It should’ve sounded scary, but I trusted him to know what he was doing. His pleasure was mine, and it was all I wanted to do. He’d forgiven me, and I couldn’t be more relieved.
“Okay,” I whispered.
He took my hand and led me deeper into the room. Near the fire pit, a long wooden post stood floor to ceiling. An old, rusted hook was embedded at the top, and I stared at it warily. “What’s that for?” I pointed at it.
“Sometimes, I hang people from here.” He pushed my hair to the side and kissed the crook of my neck.
“Kinky,” I said with a scoff.
He laughed as he grabbed a pair of handcuffs and a long chain from the shelf. It didn’t take long to adjust the chain so it hung low enough off the hook. He attached the cuffs to the chain, letting them hang there before turning his attention back to me.
“Strip.”
I swallowed hard and, with trembling hands, pulled off my top.
It was cooler down here, and goosebumps prickled on my skin as I unclasped my bra.
I dropped both to the floor, then pulled down my leggings and panties together and stepped out of them.
Standing naked felt suddenly embarrassing.
I covered my breasts with my forearms while crossing my thighs a bit.
He smirked. “You acting shy isn’t going to help you get out of this.”
“I’m not trying to,” I shot back. Before I lost my nerve, I walked over to the wooden post and leaned forward against it, raising my arms above my head.
He cuffed my wrists, forcing me to tiptoe slightly.
Trailing kisses along my spine, he sent shivers all over my body as I stood there at his mercy.
My breasts pushed on either side of the post, the texture rough against my skin.
“I plan on making this hurt,” he whispered in my ear as he pushed my hair to the front. “I forgave your betrayal, but you should still be punished, right?”
My pulse shot south, and I let out a whimper. “Yes.”
I turned my head as he walked back to the shelf and grabbed a whip. My eyes widened as I recognized the type; a cat-o’-nine-tails. Not for beginners. It had several braids ending in riding crop tips, which meant each blow would snap against my flesh.
He motioned a finger for me to turn back around, and I did as ordered, not wanting this punishment to be any worse than it already would be.
The first blow came, and I tensed at the cracking sound before it even landed. I screamed, pressing my forehead against the post, trying to catch my breath. My eyes watered with the second one, and I cried harder. I wouldn’t beg for mercy, though; I knew this was necessary. For both of us.
Over and over, he swung, and I shrieked, my back stinging. My lungs burned as though I’d been running without stopping.
“Relax. Don’t resist the pain,” he said between blows. “Breathe and focus.”
I stared at a small crack in the wood, repeating to myself why this was important. It was a show of trust on my side. Taking responsibility for having broken his. For him, it was making sure I never did something like this again.
Before I knew it, the sound of his belt took me away from my concentration, and I stiffened again.
Was he going to use that next? His zipper came down, and he sheathed his cock inside me in one thrust. I moaned, standing a bit higher on my tiptoes as he pumped into me as though he’d turned into an animal.
He pulled out, and I whimpered at the loss of fullness, but he didn’t stop touching me.
Reaching in front of me, he kneaded my breast while his other hand stroked his shaft until. ..
His cum sprayed all over my back, and I hissed through my teeth as it stung a bit.
He uncuffed me, and I nearly fell. He held me, hands beneath my arms so he could avoid touching my sore back. Gently, he put me on the floor and straightened.
“Are you ready for a bit more?”
Tears dripped onto the cement, but I nodded. Yes. I could do this. Despite the pain, my body trembled with need for him.
He walked away, and I frowned as he stood in the elevator. Where was he going? Was this my punishment? To stay sitting here on the cold floor while my back throbbed? He motioned for me to come to him, but just as I tried getting to my feet, he shook his head.
“Crawl to me.”
I gawked at him, unsure what to do. It wasn’t anything bad, but the humiliation of it bubbled inside my chest until I wanted to sob.
Yet, the idea of going to him where he stood, waiting for me.
I took a tentative step with my hand, then the other, and soon enough, my knees followed.
They hurt a bit under the pressure and hardness, but I focused on getting to him.
I kneeled in front of him and waited. I wasn’t sure for what, but more than anything, I needed his touch.
He pressed the elevator button, and I stayed still as it lifted us to the main room. When the freight door was opened, he took my hands and helped me to my feet. I opened my mouth to say something―anything―but I couldn’t seem to find the words. Didn’t know what to ask or what I needed.
Jack knows. Trust him.
“Can you walk to the shower?” he asked in a hard voice. It was as though he was still angry, and my heart sank. Had it not been enough? Did he actually forgive me?
I nodded, and he led me to the washroom, standing close.
He turned on the tap, and water sprayed from the showerhead. I stared at it, unsure; I knew I had to wash up, but it looked as though it would hurt. Was this part of the punishment?
He stripped off his clothes, and I stared at him. His cock was soft, but everything else about him was hard. “Face the water, and let it run off your shoulder so it doesn’t touch your back directly.”
I did as he instructed and grimaced as the water cascaded down my back and stung a few places. I pictured my flesh torn and hanging off the bone but quickly pushed it out of my mind. It wouldn’t be that bad, and it wasn’t helping my emotions.
He grabbed the soap, and I relaxed as his hands slowly ran over my sensitive skin. It hurt here and there, but nothing too bad. His spanking had left more bruises than this likely would.
“Are you...still mad at me?” I asked in a shaky voice.
“I’m angry at myself,” he said in a harsh whisper. He took a step closer, and kissed the top of my head. “I wanted to hurt you, but when I did... I just want to protect you right now.”
I turned, staring into his brown eyes. My chest squeezed, and the same words kept repeating in my mind.
I love him.
Oh, no. This wasn’t supposed to have happened.