16. Chapter 16
Justin
The basement is quiet. The tiny fridge in the kitchenette emits a low hum and the air conditioning whooshes out fresh air at regular intervals, but other than that, there’s nothing but silence. It’s starting to get to me.
I don’t know what time it is, but I’m assuming it’s well after noon.
After Cameron left last night, I slept, then waited for him to come back when I woke up.
He never did, so I ate one of the energy bars and drank some water.
After that, I waited and waited. When I got hungry again, I assumed it was time for lunch, so I ate some more and waited some more.
I never thought being kidnapped would be boring, but it is. Mind-numbingly so.
I’m used to keeping busy. With the semester underway, there’s always some coursework to do or tests to study for.
When I have a spare moment, I read, play video games or go for walks, usually with some interesting podcast in my ear.
My roommate once talked me into jogging, but it proved an unwise choice that nearly landed me in the student health center.
My lungs are too messed up for more strenuous activities.
But I’m used to doing something, anything, and this forced inactivity is threatening to drive me nuts.
I try to occupy myself by reciting the topics we went over in my last Economics class, right before I went to that cursed party, but without my notes to check if I remember everything correctly, it’s pointless.
My imagination, fueled by the view of the sex dungeon part of the room, takes over then and brings me to some really weird places.
Observing the padded furniture bristling with hooks and anchor points, I can guess what most of them are used for and what position I’ll have to take on them.
I mean, I would have to take, if I were still here when we got to that point, but that’s not going to happen because I’m going to escape soon.
Still, with nothing else to entertain myself with, my mind gets busy imagining Cameron fucking me on every single piece of that furniture.
I don’t know why I do this to myself, because those images are terrifying, but I can’t seem to stop.
How much would it hurt? Two fingers burned a little, which is better than I expected, but Cameron’s cock is much thicker than that. I need to get out of here before he comes anywhere near me with that thing.
To my embarrassment and frustration, my own cock quite enjoys this kind of daydreaming. It plumps up, not erect yet, but slowly getting there. What in the everloving fuck is wrong with me?
I close my eyes and let my head thunk back against the bars of the cage.
They’re sturdy, inch-thick solid steel. I tried yanking on them with all my might, but they’re firmly embedded in the floor.
They won’t bend, either, so squeezing through is out of the question.
At least the cage is bigger than a dog crate.
Tall enough for me to sit up without having to crane my neck, and long enough so that I can almost straighten my legs when lying on my back.
Not that I do much straightening. I prefer to sleep curled in a ball in the center of the cage, wrapped in my precious blanket which wards off the chilly air of the heavily air-conditioned room.
I’d probably freeze to death if it wasn’t for that fluffy piece of fabric, and I’m doubly grateful to Cameron for giving it to me.
Even if I hate him for keeping me here. Or I should hate him, anyway. My mind is all messed up on that front.
Whenever I try to convince myself that he’s evil, I remember how he comforted and praised me.
How he told me he was proud of me. I’ve never considered myself starved for affection, but damn if words like that don’t make me feel amazing.
It’s another thing to unravel with my therapist once I get out of here. By now, that list is half a mile long.
It’s several hours later, early evening if my internal body clock is right, when the light on the keypad by the door flashes green and Cameron strides through.
As much as I’m afraid of what he’ll do to me, part of me is happy to see him. Too big a part for my liking, but I can’t control that emotion any more than I can control the heartbeat that’s thundering in my ears as he crouches by the cage and grins at me.
“Hello, pet. I’m back.”
I smile at him, much more earnestly than the forced smiles from yesterday. I’m happy not to be alone anymore, and him being here gives me another chance at stealing his phone for a moment. At least I tell myself those are the reasons, and not because his sunny disposition is contagious.
We haven’t spent much time together, but I can already tell that Cameron is one of those people who are friendly with everyone without having to put in any real effort.
It’s unfair, because he’s a terrible, rotten person who keeps people prisoner, rapes them, and tells them he’s proud of them, and… Damn, I can’t get into this again.
Focus, Justin, I tell myself sternly. Play along. Do whatever he tells you to do.
“Thank you, Sir,” I say as he unlocks the cage and lets me out. My muscles are stiff and achy, and a groan escapes me as I stretch this way and that and my back cracks ominously.
A delicious scent drifts from the takeout bags he’s set on the table, but the look in Cameron’s eyes shows hunger of a different kind. His eyes trace the shape of my body as I stretch, and I fight the urge to cover myself. He wouldn’t like that, so I toughen up and let him look his fill.
“I feel you,” he says, also groaning as he tilts his head to one side and then the other before rolling his shoulders. “I spent six hours today hunched over a customer’s back. I could use a massage.” The leery grin he aims at me tells me exactly what he expects me to say.
I could also use a massage, but I don’t think it would be wise to demand one from my captor.
Playing the obedient servant, I nod. “I’ve never given anyone a massage, but I’ll try my best, Sir.
Could I visit the bathroom first?” I’ve pissed into that damned drain because I couldn’t hold it any longer, but I refuse to use it for anything else.
Even dogs can go outside to do their business.
“Sure. I’ll set out the food. I hope you’re hungry.”
My stomach is so tight with nerves I doubt I’ll be able to stuff much food inside without throwing it all up, but I force a smile and repeat my line. “Thank you, Sir.”
I take as long in the bathroom as I think Cameron will tolerate, but then it’s time to return to the lion’s den.
I suck in a deep breath to calm my racing thoughts and step out of the bathroom.
My eyebrows fly up when I see Cameron serving the food on the kitchen island, on actual plates with real cutlery. And is that a candle?
It’s more romantic than most of my dates have ever been, which is probably the reason I’m still single.
I should have tried harder. Maybe if I had a girlfriend, I wouldn’t have taken Grace’s offer of casual sex, her psycho boyfriend wouldn’t have cornered me, and Cameron would have never known of my existence.
I’m old enough to know that following the what-if path leads to nothing but misery, so I cut that train of thought and focus on the present task. Making Cameron let his guard down.
“It smells wonderful,” I say, choosing my words carefully.
“It’s from my favorite Mexican place. How do you feel about spicy food?”
I grimace before I can catch myself, then try to fix my slip-up. “Uh, I’m sure that whatever you picked will taste amazing.”
Cameron laughs easily. “I guessed you wouldn’t like it.
I’m glad I was right. Here,” he grabs one plate, “this is the non-spicy one. Or wait.” He sniffs the food, then shakes his head.
“Nope, this is the spicy one. That one is yours. I probably should have put it on a different plate. Come on. Sit. Eat.”
It’s kind of gross to sit naked on furniture, but Master commands, so I park my bare ass on a tall chair by the kitchen island and reach for the non-spicy plate.
Since Cameron didn’t seem too sure of which one was which himself, I carefully smell the food before taking the tiniest bite. Then I wait.
When no fire erupts in my mouth, I sigh in relief and shovel a big bite into my mouth because I’m suddenly hungry and the food is delicious. As a broke college student, I tend to go for the cheapest of cheap takeout. This food is on a completely different level.
Satisfied that I’m eating, Cameron digs into his own serving. He chews slowly, then his eyes grow a little watery. “Wow. This really is sharp,” he says, fanning himself as he reaches for a glass of water. “I might have overestimated myself a bit.”
I chuckle, because he’s ridiculous as he gulps down the water and wheezes.
For a moment, I completely forget that I’m not here of my own free will.
I feel guilty for that immediately afterward, but I squash that feeling down for the time being.
There will be enough time for guilt later.
Now I have a great opportunity to cozy up to my captor.
I push my plate closer to him. “You can have some of mine. Not everything, though, because it really is delicious.”
Cameron stares at the offered plate. Sadness flicks through his expression, there and gone so quickly I wonder if what I saw was real. “It’s okay,” he says, his tone off in a way I can’t put my finger on. “I’ll have something else later. You eat. You’ll need the energy.”
I went too far, I think. Too friendly, or too direct, or both. I’ve only been here a day. I probably should be more scared, more resistant, or… I don't even know. How am I supposed to act, and why is this so difficult? I just want to stay alive, dammit!