Chapter 5
Five
Briana
As I stare at the ceiling in the near darkness, my brain is racing. I can’t shut it off. I think I’m losing my mind. It’s been ten days since school started. Ten days since the mysterious man hauled me into that pantry and upended my world.
I can’t get him out of my head. I feel like he’s always watching me.
He knows where I live, so it’s possible.
I’ve researched the lore of the freshman prank at Darkwell University.
It seems to be real, but the details are vague.
I get the feeling not many women have reported the incidents. As one of them, I can see why.
There’s no mention anywhere of repeat performances or stalking, so I have to assume it’s all in my head. There’s no way he’s following me. And it’s ludicrous to think he’s been in my room. Touched my things.
But something is off. When I returned home today, my bed was made. I never make my bed. Why bother? I’m just going to climb back into it later. Most of my foster parents insisted we make our beds in the morning, but now that I make my own decisions, I’ve stopped taking the time. And yet…
For the millionth time since I got home, I run through the events of the morning in my head.
I remember getting up after hitting my snooze three times—as usual.
I set my alarm for fifteen minutes before I really need to get out of bed.
It gives me a chance to ease into consciousness.
I’ve done it for years. It started in high school when I shared a room with another teenager.
We used her alarm. It was her habit, and I picked it up. I had no other choice.
I remember stumbling into my bathroom, brushing my teeth, and peeing. I remember returning to my room in my panties to grab a bra and then jeans and a T-shirt—my usual college outfit of choice.
That’s my routine most days. Why the hell would I have stopped to make my bed? Did I take too much melatonin last night? Maybe I took it twice and it has left me confused and out of sorts this morning.
No matter how hard I try to recall, I don’t come up with a plausible explanation for finding my bed made. Could one of my roommates have done it? That’s more logical than where my head is going. To a mystery man whom I’ve convinced myself is stalking me.
Batshit.
I’m not going to fall asleep. Again. So I sit up, grab the stupid pills, and pop one in my mouth. After downing it with water, I drop back onto the mattress and resume staring at the ceiling.
It seems like minutes later that something brushes against my arm. I jerk awake, opening my eyes, but I can’t see anything. And then suddenly, a hand comes over my mouth, and all the blood drains from my body.
I’m aware of someone sitting on the edge of my bed. It’s dipped and leaning that direction. When I try to lift my arms, I discover they are trapped at my sides under the covers. I’m pinned between this man’s hip and his other hand planted firmly against my other side.
It’s him.
I know it all the way to my bones. I can smell him. His woodsy scent fills my nose with every inhale.
I thought I had experienced the worst kind of panic the night he pulled me into the pantry, but I was wrong. My panic is much more intense this time. He’s in my bedroom. In the middle of the night.
“Do you know what a ball gag is, princess?”
My entire body jerks, but I can’t move an inch.
“I bet you’ve never seen one. You’re far too innocent to have researched bondage or sadism, aren’t you?”
I take sharp breaths in and out through my nose. Why can’t I see? My eyes are open. I’m blindfolded…
He continues, “A ball gag is exactly what you’re probably picturing.
It’s a rubber ball attached to a strap. When it’s inserted into someone’s mouth, it holds their jaw wide open to prevent speech.
The strap is secured at the back of the head.
The wearer ends up slobbering down their face because they can’t swallow their saliva properly.
Would you like me to put a ball gag in your mouth, princess? ”
I’m not sure how much of that I grasped, but it was enough to shake my head slightly.
“That’s what I figured. Lack of education doesn’t mean you won’t turn out to be an adorable little masochist. I’m not sure you’ll be capable of satisfying the sadist in me, though.
” He sighs as if he’s disappointed by this notion.
“The point is, I’m wondering if I can remove my hand from your mouth without you screaming?
Can I, princess?” He has the same deep, gravelly voice he used in the pantry.
I nod because what else can I possibly do? I need him to remove his hand. It’s making me feel like I can’t breathe.
Slowly, he pulls his palm away before tapping my lips with one finger. He slides that hand down to my neck and places it over my throat, giving me a new reason to freak the fuck out. He could cut off my airway and strangle me. It would be sometime tomorrow before anyone found my dead body.
“That’s a good girl. I don’t want to hurt you, princess. I just want to talk to you, get to know you better. How does that sound?”
I swallow. What the hell is happening to me? “Why?” My voice squeaks.
“Shhh. Whisper, princess. You don’t want to wake anyone up.”
I nod.
“Why? I wish I knew. There’s something about you that intrigues me. I can’t seem to get you out of my system, so I’m here. I guess I’m kind of hoping you’ll say or do something that will turn me off and help me purge you from my thoughts.” He speaks so candidly, but his words are total madness.
I’m trembling violently.
His hand slides over the comforter from my throat to the middle of my chest. “I don’t usually fall for the girls.
It’s never happened before.” He leans in closer.
“You smell so good, and you’re so pretty.
I love how pure and innocent you are. Like a blank slate waiting to be trained and molded into a perfectly well-behaved girl. ”
A whimper escapes me. My heart is racing. Trained and molded?
“You’re very messy, princess. Your room is always so untidy. How can you live like this?”
Always…? So he has been in here before. “Did you make my bed this morning?” I ask, my voice as soft as I can get it.
“You noticed. I wondered if you would. It was hard to restrain myself. I wanted to organize your closet and clean your bathroom, too. Now that you’ve caught me, I think I will. Would you like that, princess? Would you like me to help you get organized?”
I don’t move an inch. I can’t answer that question. When I try to pull my arm free, he grips my wrist.
“Tsk tsk. Keep your arms at your sides, princess. If you’re concerned about why you can’t see, it’s because I’ve blindfolded you. It’s better this way. Imagine how much more panicked you would be if you could identify me.”
I nod. “Okay.” He’s right. He’s batshit crazy, but whatever it takes to appease him.
“Not forever, pretty girl. Just for now. Maybe, someday, I’ll get you out of my system and never come back.
Then you won’t have to worry about reporting me.
You won’t know who I am. But maybe things will go in the other direction, and I’ll decide to keep you.
We wouldn’t be able to spend our entire lives with you blindfolded, would we? ” He chuckles, his voice oddly sexy.
“What do you want?”
“I told you. I want to get to know you. I can help you, too. I’ll teach you to be more disciplined. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
My lips tremble.
“First rule, princess. Always answer me when I ask you a question. Wouldn’t you like me to train you to respect your belongings and your body? I promise you’ll feel so much better every time you come into your room if it’s organized, and if you’ve eaten healthily, you’ll have more energy.”
How the fuck does he know what I’ve eaten? My body shudders. I can’t stop it. I’m confident he knows more about me than I could ever imagine, but how?
“Briana…”
I jolt at the sound of my name coming from his lips. This is the first time he’s used my name. I shouldn’t be surprised. He knows a lot about me. If he’s been in my room, it would be easy for him to figure out my name.
“Let’s start with respect, princess. When I ask you a question, you will respond with ‘yes, Sir’ or ‘no, Sir.’ Unless I require a more extensive answer.”
I lick my lips. “Yes, Sir,” I whisper. My entire body shudders as those words leave my lips. My stomach tightens. I don’t understand my reaction. It feels oddly…right that I should call him Sir. What the fuck?
“Good girl.” He gently strokes my cheek. “That felt good, didn’t it, princess?”
Nodding gently, I manage to mutter, “Yes, Sir.” Another strange twinge zings through me. He’s fucking with my head.
“You know I will never hurt you, right, princess?”
Do I know that? I’m in a total panic because I assume he’s going to hurt me.
“You have my promise. That doesn’t mean I won’t discipline you when you need me to.
You enjoyed that little swat to your thigh in the pantry the night we met.
” He chuckles. “I suppose it’s possible you might decide you like being disciplined, and then you’ll break the rules intentionally.
I’ve heard that’s common in masochists. But you probably don’t know yet what you do and don’t like, do you? We’ll find out together.”
My chest is rising and falling with every breath. I don’t respond because I don’t know if there was a question in there.
“You’re lacking in discipline, princess. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes, Sir.” It seems like the right answer.
His finger is driving me crazy, trailing around my cheek and neck. Those are the only parts of me that are exposed, and my pulse is picking up from the contact. No one has ever touched me like he is—except ten days ago.
That has to be the reason why I like it. There’s no other explanation. Why would I enjoy a stranger’s touch? A stranger who has blindfolded me and is holding me hostage in my own bed? It has to be because I’ve been deprived of any sexual experience like this.