Chapter 5 #2
That night he pranked me is never far from my mind. I think about him all the time, to the point that I’m worried about my sanity. It’s like I’ve missed him. His touch. His soft voice. The way he held me. His filthy words.
I think part of the reason I’ve never mentioned the encounter to a soul is because I’m embarrassed to admit I was equal parts freaked the fuck out and invigorated.
I felt alive. It was fucked up, but at the same time, I’ve never felt more in touch with this planet and my body.
I don’t even know if that makes any sense.
I go through the motions of life. I’ve done so for eighteen years. I do all the things I’m supposed to do. My counselors have always been impressed with how stable I seem for someone who grew up in foster care. Someone who lived with several different families over the years.
Am I really stable, though? Or do I just fake it well? I’ve always thought it was the latter. Therapists have told me I’m an old soul. I’m not sure what that means. Something about being mature and able to cope with the world better than the average person my age.
Whatever. No matter what anyone has ever said to me, I’ve never actually felt fully alive. Until that night. Until this mysterious man yanked me into a pantry and held me hostage.
I don’t have a therapist right now. I could get one through the school, but what would I tell them? Yeah, I was a victim of one of the freshman pranks. Have you heard that lore? It’s true.
Something about my mystery man feels like he belongs to me. I don’t want to share him. I don’t want anyone to tell me what I felt that night was wrong. There is no right or wrong. I’m entitled to my feelings.
And he’s here now. Again. I’m scared. Again. But also, my heart is beating as if it hasn’t done so since the last time he touched me.
“Do you have parents, princess?”
That’s the oddest question of them all. He says such strange things.
He continues, “I don’t see any photographic evidence of a family in your room. Your roommates have pictures on their desks and walls. Pictures of moms and dads and siblings.”
My breath hitches. “Please don’t hurt them.” Fear consumes me. They might not react as calmly as I am if he tries to prank them. What if they screamed and he had to silence them?
Plus… He’s my mystery man. Not theirs.
He flinches. “Hurt who? Your roommates?”
“Yes. Yes, Sir.”
“I have no interest in the other girls living in this house or any other girls anywhere, princess. All my focus is on you.”
Panting, I nod. “Thank you, Sir.” Why does that give me so much relief? I can tell myself it’s because I’m worried he might hurt someone else. But really, it’s mostly because the thought of him touching anyone the way he’s touching me makes my skin crawl.
I’m fucked in the head.
“You didn’t answer my question. If I have to repeat myself, there will be consequences.”
Tears leak from the corners of my eyes. I’m not sure what specifically is causing them.
I don’t think it’s because I’m scared. For some strange reason, my fear is ebbing.
I don’t think he’s going to hurt me. If he intended to, he could have done it by now.
Though he has insinuated that he will punish me if I disobey him.
I’m not sure what that might entail, but the thought makes my chest tighten in a way I can’t explain.
That night, he swatted my thigh. He threatened to spank me. I’ve thought about that a thousand times. What would it be like for him to take me over his knees and spank my butt?
Some obviously fucked-up part of me finds the idea soothing. When parents spank their kids, it’s because they love them and want to protect them. Right? There’s something about the idea that makes me feel cherished.
I’m definitely fucked up.
He leans closer to me. I know this when he hisses, “Briana.” My name comes out in a sharp bark. I’ve angered him. Not enough to make him seriously pissed, but just enough to deserve to be reprimanded.
He was waiting for an answer to his question when my mind wandered. “No, Sir. I don’t have parents.”
“Where were you living before you came here?” His tone is oddly curious.
“Foster care. I lived with a family. I aged out when I turned eighteen. I stayed with them until I moved here to go to school.”
“Ahhh. That makes sense.”
I hate that he knows that. Now he’s aware that I don’t have anyone who loves me. That might make me expendable. Maybe I should tell him I have a brother. But I decide against it. He’ll ask questions I don’t want to answer. I would never want to endanger my brother.
“Did your foster parents not have rules about cleanliness, princess?” His voice is so gentle, as if he feels sorry for me missing out on such a ludicrous thing as chores.
“They did, Sir,” I admit.
“But you abandoned those guidelines when you moved out?”
I don’t understand this man. Is he some sort of drill sergeant?
I’m not that messy. I’m just a normal freshman.
He acts like my room is a pigsty. I haven’t even lived here long enough for it to be such a disaster.
On top of that, I don’t own enough clothes or shoes or any other items to be much of a slob.
“I guess I’ve been busy,” I murmur.
“Mmm. Maybe you just need a nudge from someone who cares about your well-being.”
I purse my lips. Him?
He lifts a lock of my hair and plays with it. “Your hair is like spun gold, princess.”
I hold my breath.
“Do you have any idea how pretty you are?”
At those words, my tears trail down my temples. He doesn’t know that, though. He can’t see them. And I’m glad.
“So pretty…” he continues, his voice reverent. “Your skin is so smooth and naturally tan. Do you wear sunscreen, princess?”
“Yes, Sir.” I’m choked up. It’s irrational, but I don’t think anyone has ever told me I’m pretty. No one has ever even looked at me long enough to form an opinion.
It’s not that I had bad experiences in foster care.
I was lucky. I was always placed with kind families.
But they had other foster kids, too. The last one I was with had seven of us.
They did everything they could to provide us all with a stable environment, food, clothes, and a roof.
Those things are important. But there were too many of us for them to really take the time to make any one of us feel loved.
“Good girl. You should always protect your skin from the sun’s harmful rays. If I were to look, would I find tan lines from tank tops and bathing suits?”
My lips part. Fuck, he’s strange. “Uh, yes, Sir. My skin tans even if I wear sunscreen.”
“I suppose that’s true. One day soon, I’ll start checking to make sure you’re protecting your skin as much as possible.”
My jaw tightens. He talks like he intends to be in my life all the time. How would that look?
“I don’t think you’re ready for me to see you naked tonight, are you, princess?”
My heart beats faster. “No, Sir.” But part of me is lying to us both. Some warped part of me wants him to see me naked. It makes no sense. I’m being assaulted. Aren’t I?
Except he hasn’t hurt me. He’s been nothing but kind. Oddly interested in my welfare, which feels nice, if unusual. And his touch is making me feel so alive. I wonder what it would feel like if he touched more of me, stroked me in more intimate places.
“Has anyone seen you naked, Briana?”
“No, Sir,” I murmur.
His head is closer to mine again. “Good girl. I like knowing that you’re pure and untouched. That’s what you mean, right, princess? No boys have touched you? I suppose seeing your precious body and touching it are two different things. Has anyone ever held your breasts or stroked your nipples?”
“No, Sir.” I try not to move. His strange words make my boobs feel heavy. My nipples feel tight. When I squirm, they rub against my T-shirt.
“What about your pussy, Briana? Has any boy had his fingers inside your panties?”
“No, Sir.” I clench my thighs together.
My weird stalker blows out a breath. “I’m glad to hear that, princess. You’re going to be my good girl and focus on your studies and learning to take care of your body and your belongings, aren’t you, Briana?”
“Yes, Sir.” My voice wobbles. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m aching to know what he wants me to do to please him.
“No boys, Briana. Understood? Hard rule.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Boys can’t give you what you crave anyway, princess. You need someone older to worship your body like you deserve. Like me.”
How old is this guy? I realize I have no idea. Surely he’s not that old. Mid-twenties maybe?
“When you’re ready, I’ll show you. I’ll reward you with my touch when you earn it. Does that sound fair, princess?”
“Yes, Sir.” Is it possible for my heart to beat out of my chest?
I gasp when he suddenly pulls the covers down several inches.
It’s only far enough to expose the top of my T-shirt, but he can surely see my pebbled nipples through the thin material.
Assuming it’s bright enough in the room.
Did I close the bathroom door? I’m not sure.
And if it’s all the way open, there would be enough light coming from the small window to illuminate my body.
He gives a slight tug to the sleeve of my T-shirt.
“I’m not fond of these T-shirts, princess.
I’m going to buy you something else to wear in bed.
In fact, I’m going to buy you some other clothes, too.
You don’t have enough in your closet, and some of what you own is inappropriate.
You returned the slutty skirt and blouse to their owner, right? ”
“Yes, Sir.” My head is spinning. He’s going to buy me clothes?
“Good girl. I never want to see anything like that on you again. You are not permitted to wear anything that attracts anyone else’s attention, understood?”
“Yes, Sir.” My mouth is so dry that it’s getting hard to respond.
“You need someone in your life to teach you how to avoid attracting the wrong kind of attention. You have me now. A Daddy.” He chuckles. “Do you know what a Daddy Dom is, princess?”
My face feels hot. “No, Sir.”
“It’s a man who takes care of his girl. I bet if you give us a chance, you’ll see that you crave the kind of structure you’ll get from a Daddy.”
My lips part. No sound comes out. I have no idea what he’s talking about. I’ll need to Google this concept. Is it real?
“Think of this as a sort of courtship. We’re getting to know each other to discover if we’re compatible.
While we’re doing so, you need to respect my wishes.
If we determine we aren’t suitable together, we’ll end this arrangement, and you can go back to being slobby and wearing whatever you want.
But for the time being, you’ll learn my rules and obey them. Does that sound fair, princess?”
My mouth opens. I think I whimper. It takes me a second to respond. “Yes, Sir.” His ideas are so twisted. What decade is he from?
“Excellent.” He sounds elated. “I should let you get back to sleep. You need your rest. I’ve already set out some clothes for you to wear to class tomorrow.
I’ve also programmed myself into your phone.
It will be easier for us to get to know one another by phone.
We can text and call. Oh, and I left a list of rules on your desk.
And I’ve reset your alarm for half an hour earlier.
I want you to spend that half hour tidying up a bit.
You can take care of the rest when you get home from your classes. ”
I’m holding my breath again. This is total madness. I’m hooked on one of the things he just said. “How did you get into my phone?”
He chuckles. “Face ID, princess. Duh.”
Shit. Right. All he would have had to do was hold it up to my face while I was sleeping. Apparently, he was here for a while before he woke me.
He stands. “You may remove the blindfold after I’m gone. From now on, I want you to put it on when you go to bed. Every night, princess. Don’t forget.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And, Briana… I don’t need to tell you how important it is to keep our arrangement to yourself, do I?”
“No, Sir.”
“Good girl. I know this is…unconventional. But it’s for the best. I promise.
I’m winging it here, too, pretty girl. I’ve never done anything like this.
But it feels right. It keeps my anonymity, for the time being.
Not forever, though, princess. I have a good feeling about us. I think we’re going to be compatible.”
I bite into my bottom lip. I have no idea how we could be compatible, but I say nothing.
Suddenly, his lips are on my forehead above the blindfold. He kisses me gently, lingering. “You smell so good.” He groans. “Sleep tight, princess.”
I’m frozen as he pulls back. A second later, my bedroom door snicks shut. He’s gone. I can’t move. I’m too stunned. Part of me wonders if I didn’t dream the entire thing. But when I reach up to touch my face, I find the blindfold. I slowly peel it off and blink into the dimly lit room.
It takes me a while to start breathing regularly.
I consider getting up, turning on the light, and seeing if everything he said is true.
Did he really leave a list of rules and clothes for me to wear?
I don’t move, though. I feel exhausted and heavy.
I’d rather not know. Maybe I was dreaming. I’ll find out in the morning.