24
Lia
When I emerge from my sleep, it’s to find myself in the warm arms of the masked man.
I’m still locked in my cage, but he must have crawled inside after me. I don’t know how he could possibly have fit through the small door, but he’s lying in the pile of pillows, holding me to him.
He’s fast asleep, and I sit up carefully, removing his heavy arm from my back. Then I hunt through his pocket for the key.
I vaguely remember he did some other things to open the door. But the key, I remember best, because it made a loud jangling sound.
Finding it, I first turn it over in my hands a few times, letting the feel of it soothe me. Then I crawl over to the door, sticking an arm out between the bars and trying to place the key in the lock without making any noise.
I manage it, and then… it turns.
My heart in my throat, I try to push open the door… and a loud alarm starts blaring, causing me to cry out in surprise.
At once, an arm hooks itself around my waist, while I see a hand input a code. 2403.
Then I’m pulled back and find myself lying across a lap.
“Stop!” I gasp. “Please, stop!”
“Remember the safe word, Lia?” says a stern voice.
“The… the what? What is it? What’s the safe word?”
I writhe around desperately, trying to escape his firm grip on my lower back.
“Good. Keep remembering it. You can say it at any time.”
“But I don’t… I don’t know… I don’t know what it… stop! Stop!”
His hand beats down hard, a fast and steady rhythm that makes me breathless. Damn, it hurts. I writhe around, trying to escape the blows, but he keeps at it until my cheeks are numb.
“Please… stop… Logan… stop…”
Suddenly, I’m aware that the spanking has stopped.
“What did you say, baby?”
I wince as he gently pulls me off him, then sits me down on his bare legs.
“What? I don’t… Logan?”
“Yes?”
“Is that the safe word?”
There’s a long pause, and then he removes his mask. The other man was right; he is pretty sweaty. He mops his red face, then lays the mask down over my thighs. I run my fingers slowly over it, the cold metal soothing me again.
“It’s not the safe word,” he murmurs. “Remember what I told you it would take for me to remove my mask?”
“Uhm…” My brain throbs from the effort of trying to remember. “You told me you’d remove it if I said your name.”
“That’s right, baby.” He strokes my hair. “I’m very proud of you.”
“But I don’t know who you are, Logan.”
“You will soon. And as soon as you do, I’ll let you leave this cage.”
“No. I want to leave now. I know who you are.”
“Really? Who am I?”
“You’re the asshole who put me here.”
He chuckles and kisses me. Without meaning to, I lean into it, kissing him back. My tongue pushes through his lips, hungrily needing more. But he draws back.
“Is this how you act with all the men you don’t know?”
“No. I usually kill them. Can I have my bazooka back?”
He pauses for quite some time, as though he’s deep in thought. “Okay.”
“...Okay?”
“Okay, I have some work to do. You’re going to be a good girl and stay here.” I suddenly feel something cold wrap itself around my neck, and when I try to pull away from it, a chain behind me jangles.
“What… what is this? What did you put around me… Logan?” I repeat his name, seeing the effect it has on him.
“Good girl,” he praises me, though he doesn’t make any move to untie me.
Instead, he stands up, taking out another key and unlocking a much larger opening that I hadn’t noticed before, because it blends seamlessly into the cage.
He grins, noticing my surprise. “I had to have my guy put this in too. I realized I wouldn’t be able to keep away from you. ”
“But I wanted to see you crawl.”
“It’s a good thing this world doesn’t revolve around what you want, Lia, but what I want.
” He takes a step back to pat my head, and then walks through the door, shutting it behind him.
Moments later, he returns to the edge of the cage, pushing through a notepad and pen, a big plastic bowl and two smaller ones through the tiny trap that’s meant for me.
“What are those?” I snap, although I think I already know.
“The big one is in case you need to pee, baby. The smaller ones are to drink and eat from. And the notepad… I want you to write my name. Just keep writing my name. I’ll be back later.”
“Wait… please… Logan!”
He pauses at the bedroom door. “Yeah, baby?”
“Please, please don’t leave me here. I don’t want to stay here like this. I don’t deserve it.”
“Really?” His voice is grim. “I’m pretty sure you do deserve it. You deserve a whole lot worse. But I love you, so this is as bad as it’s going to get.” He marks a pause. “Behave, Lia. I’ll be back later.”
With that, he slams shut the door, leaving me in a turmoil of emotion.
I’m lost, and the worst thing is I know it. I’m not at a stage yet where I’m blissfully unaware of my mind being blank. Maybe that will come, and I half wish it would. But for now, I’m aware that I’m slipping. And it’s an awfully long drop till the bottom.
I’m lost, and I’m trapped, and I’m alone. And I don’t even have my bazooka. I lean against the side of the cage, the cold bars pressing into me, and tears slowly wind their way down my face.
I want to die.
_
I never once touch the notepad. I don’t need to.
I’m losing everything, but that name is ingrained in my memory.
Maybe it’s because he wore the metal mask for so long, and my mind seems to latch onto metal things.
Maybe it’s because his cruelty has burned itself into me. Or maybe it’s something else.
I don’t touch the food or the drink either, and it means that the large plastic bowl remains thankfully empty.
Maybe I’ll just starve. That would probably be an uncomfortable way to go.
I would have preferred something fast and intense, rather than to slowly slip all the rest of the way down.
But I’ve got a collar around my neck, a very short chain—far too short to try to use it to strangle myself—and nothing else I can reach for.
The pen itself is made of plastic, and the paper is just paper.
At best, I could give myself a papercut.
Slow and painful seems to be the only way out of this place.
When the door opens at last, I raise my head quickly. “Logan.”
He doesn’t answer, and he’s back to wearing a mask. I don’t know why: I named him. But I’m too tired to ask.
Even though he hurt me, I need him. It’s probably only because I’m so lonely, but the warmth of his body also does something to me.
Now, I relax when I remember the effect it had on me.
My heartbeat picks up as he fiddles with the large door, and then opens a toolbox from which he draws out a big electric saw.
He flips on a switch, and it emits a loud noise as he slowly cuts through the bars.
I wonder why he’s doing that. After spending so much time and money on the cage, why is he destroying it?
I don’t have time to wonder much longer. He enters the ruins of the cage, reaches for my chain, and takes out the keys that had been left on the nightstand by the door. He unlocks my collar. Then his hand closes around my wrist, and I suddenly realize something is very wrong.
He doesn’t smell like the other guy. Like Logan.
And he’s cold, not warm.
Though he’s masked, I can tell he’s trying to avert his eyes, as if my nakedness makes him uncomfortable. He drags me after him, and I try to twist out of his grip, my stomach sinking as I start to grasp just how wrong this is.
Something about the other guy—about Logan—relaxed me. Even though he kept me in a cage, I somehow knew that he didn’t want to hurt me. I felt safe with him.
With this man, it’s the opposite.
But he’s just as strong. There’s no escaping him. All I can do is gasp, “My bazooka… I need my bazooka…”
I’m aware I sound like a broken record. But, barring actually having the weapon, speaking the word helps.
It allows me to cling to the remnants of my sanity.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask him, as he throws me into the back of the car.
He doesn’t answer.
“Tell me or I’ll kill you!”
I spring from the back, trying to wrap my hands around his neck, but he forces me off him, pushing me down beside him, his hand forcing my head down until I have no choice but to give in.