044658
PAIGE
A tornado of feathers danced through the lowest part of my stomach, swirling and flying while a flurry of stars burst through my chest.
The cry that tore out of me was cut off by Linc pushing on my lower back, crashing my face to his, and catching the sound with his mouth. My hips moved harder into his fingers, his warmth. I moaned around his tongue as the tendrils of pleasure hit low in my belly.
God, it felt amazing. So good. So much better than any orgasm I’ve ever given myself. Like my soul was riding a wave that rose high enough to splash the moon.
Tears streamed down my face at the trickling pleasure, the heat spreading just below my skin.
Linc stroked me through the release, his finger moving possessively over my clit, spurring a couple of small convulsions in my core with each caress of his finger.
Alive. Wanted. So, so good.
He groaned into my mouth and I tugged on his lip. Our mouths slowed and I gave him a small lick. The undertow of my arousal settled as he sighed against my lips, and a sudden, stark awareness blew through me.
Heat pulled up my neck, and lit my already flushed cheeks on fire. The absolute horror hit me like lightning. “Oh my God,” I cried.
Euphoria crashing, the sound of my chains clinked as I pulled my hands back over Linc’s head, rattling my disgust, and I shoved my face in my palms.
Oh my God. Did I seriously just . . . come? Here? Like this?
I’m sick. My earlier worry about this place infecting me was confirmed, and the vast hit from high to low spread like wildfire through my veins.
I couldn’t catch my breath—desperate to flush the humiliation—but my mind was clogged and my heart was sputtering.
I distantly registered Linc saying my name.
But I can’t look at him.
Not because I blamed him. He was just doing what the horny little doll riding his hand was begging him to do. I couldn’t look at him because . . .
He was Linc.
And I’d just . . .
My head shook. What was I thinking . . .
I wasn’t. Feeling the Man take his hand away, out from between us —reminding me he’d been molesting my boyfriend—I choked on a gag.
I’d had the Man’s dick in my mouth earlier.
Sick. Disgusting. You’re disgusting.
“Pip,” Linc said again, and his tone was hard enough that I peeked out from behind my fingers and looked at him.
Worriment aside, his tender eyes had gotten a bit of their chestnut hue back, and I wished I could somehow bury myself in the soft earthy color of his stare.
I felt so fucking gross. I wanted to be underground.
A lot had been done to me —to both of us— but this was the first thing that made me feel like . . .
Like I was the role I was playing.
I could see Linc studying my humiliation, before an agonized film glazed over his eyes. His throat bobbed just before his voice, gravelly and hoarse, said, “Baby, I wanted you to feel good. I wanted it. Okay? I’m sorry. It’s my fault.” His eyes were wide, sincere—emanating guilt.
I felt fucking terrible— and still strangely good, which made me feel worse—but some stupid part of me found a small glimmer of warmth at his use of the word “baby” in this moment, and it spread through my chest just before I felt a finger on my chin.
The Man. But he was staring over at Linc. “Don’t lie to her. She wouldn’t have been able to come if some part of her wasn’t turned on by this. I told you, girls almost never finish the first time.” My nostrils flared and he turned to look down at me. “It seems Paige has a little bit of a freaky side. But that will be helpful with the shoot.”
Speaking of shoot, if I had anything at all I’d aim it right between his fucking eyes.
But my mouth dropped, unable to hide my horror. I quickly pulled my lips into my mouth.
Linc snarled, “No, dickwad. Unlike you, I don’t need a map to find a clit.”
The Man huffed a laugh, but there wasn’t any humor to it. In an instant, I was being hauled off Linc’s lap. He thrashed, roaring, “No, fuck! Paige!”
Before I could steady my footing, the Man swiftly twisted the chain between my cuffs on my wrists and pinned my hands over my tits, then clutched my upper half tightly against him. My back to his front. His hot rancid breath scratched my ear as he gritted out, “Never cared much for pussy, but multiple orgasms are pretty fascinating.”
My vision became spotty. A couple of flashes of Mr. Harris —my teacher— popped through my memory, his voice now meeting other things he’d said to me—like a car backfiring over and over.
“You belong in front of the camera.”
“So talented.”
Slamming my eyes shut, I screamed, kicked, pulled— lost my fucking mind as the very same man tried to drag his free hand down my hip.
Linc was yelling a myriad of hoarse, furious threats, but the Man’s grip over my chest only tightened as his probing, invasive fingers found the wetness of my arousal between my legs.
The one Linc had given me.
“No, please,” I cried. “Please, please, please!”
“Fucking bastard! I’ll fucking kill you!” Linc growled.
The Man used his strength, his weight, and his fucking madness to wrestle my weak and used body down to the shag carpet. Right at Linc’s feet.
I fought with everything I had. I snapped my teeth when his hand got close enough to my neck, but with his full weight pressed on top of me, I didn’t have a chance.
He growled, “We’ll see. I might get lost . . .”
His other hand snaked back between my legs, closer to my asshole, and I screamed, using every bit of strength I had to buck him off of me.
His eyes met mine, and everything stopped. For a moment —every bit of anger I’d been holding back, every bit of anguish I’d swallowed down— came rushing forth to join my fight.
In a rageful growl, I hawked every bit of moisture in my mouth— spitting in the motherfucker’s face.
The hand between my legs disappeared, but I had no time to be grateful because a resounding smack, whipped my face to the side. A sharp pain pulsed through my cheek, radiating to my skull, and setting my brain on fire.
I felt tears run from my eyes, but the cry was soundless, and the room did that thing again. Sound became tunnelly. I could hear Linc yelling, but the words felt . . .
Far away.
My chin was still facing Linc’s feet. His denim-covered calves. Through my daze, I was able to register that the Man wasn’t touching me for the moment, but the realization came with the sound of a soft beep.
Had this actually been a dream? Was an alarm finally waking me up?
But the weight lifted off me, confirming I was still in a living nightmare.
Suddenly, the sound felt like it quite literally dropped back into the room, and I was able to recognize the noise was . . . a watch beeping. And when my body caught up to my brain —the Man wasn’t on top of me anymore— I gulped in a big breath, sitting up and scurrying away, back to Linc.
“Pip, fuck . . . your cheek,” he rasped, still stuck to his spot on the couch.
Right. The pain was still there, but I felt it pulse as I took in the purplish-red welt on his biceps. The strap from the leather had nearly broken skin.
He’d been fighting to save me. Keep the Man from touching me.
I curled into him, hiding as much as I could.
It doesn’t count. He barely touched me. It doesn’t count.
With my face tucked into Linc’s side, I couldn’t see the Man, so much as feel him standing in front of us. “Our geography lesson will have to wait. I just got the warning we’ve got to start if we have any hope of making the deadline. Replacing the equipment cost us time.”
Feeling the pointed words, I didn’t have to see him to know that comment was directed toward me, but I do open my eyes and look over to the other side of the room.
New cameras.
Scumbag. All of that “punishment” for something he had replacements for.
They look the same as the old ones.
Have they been rolling the whole time?
The Man said, “Here,” tossing something from his pocket over toward me, and it landed on the shag area rug—a silver key, glistening in the threads. “Take off his restraints,” he mumbled as he started checking something on the camera.
My shaky limbs wobbled to pick up the key, a tiny treasure that would give Linc some of his freedom back.
As I moved to free the first lock on his legs, he whispered, “Did he . . .”
Still looking at the lock, my eyes widened. Right. Given that Linc was essentially strapped to the couch, he couldn’t see once the Man got me to the floor.
I quickly shook my head. It was only a half-lie.
It didn’t count, I told myself again. Plus, I think if I told Linc, it would . . . escalate things once his restraints were off.
We just need to get out of here.
Clearing my throat, I peeked over to the Man, asking, “This film . . .” I swallowed the lump in my throat, then continued, “Once it’s done. You’ll release us?”
The Man didn’t even bother to look up from the camera as he said, “That’s the plan.”
It wasn’t a yes, and I sure as fuck didn’t trust it, but it was clearly the only answer he was going to give me.
I twisted the key in the second lock, hearing the click, and the moment Linc’s arms were free, he pulled me into him, holding me tight. So, so tight.
His warmth, the soft feeling of his clothes brushing against my naked body.
God, I just want to stay here.
“I love you. I’m sorry.” His hushed apology nestled into my hair, his hand gripping the back of my head and holding me to him.
I still had to take off his leg restraints . . . pull his pants up . . . but he was crushing me into his chest and I couldn’t deny him. There was some part of me that needed those words. His embrace.
“Let’s move this along, guys. I’ve already gotten a warning,” the Man said over my shoulder and my chest deflated.
Is that what the beeping was?
He kept alluding to someone else, but we hadn’t actually seen anyone else. Not that I was willing to challenge it.
Survive, rang through my mind, and I started to pull back as Linc muttered, “Fucking bastard,” just before I met his eyes again, and I tried to use our silent path of communication.
We just have to get through the film.
He said he’d let us go.
I saw the back of his jaw tick, and I felt my own nerves spike. I still wasn’t sure if I believed it myself, but I started to work on the multiple locks to Linc’s leg restraints.
It seemed like a huge risk for the Man to release us after this. I mean, the nature of a film was its permanence. Why release us when we can go to the cops? And somewhere there would be hard evidence in the form of a video.
I was nearly certain Jeremy Harris wasn’t his real name, but everyone at Providence knew what he looked like.
Though, I think one of the things Linc liked about the Man was that he didn’t seem driven by money—or at least that’s what he told Linc. And since we’d already established that whatever the fuck this was had some impressive financing behind it, maybe whoever he was working with was someone with money. Power.
Two things Linc and I did not have.
It doesn’t matter, I told myself again. Survival was all that mattered. We’d get past this, and one day, we’d take this moment back. Every degrading piece of filth we endured in this room will be ours again one day, I promised myself—I hoped, prayed to Buffy, or anyone who would listen.
As soon as Linc’s legs were free, he pulled up his pants and pushed himself to stand, wobbling, but he locked his knees and seethed at the Man currently adjusting the camera on the tripod.
“Linc,” I said quietly, warning.
“I’d listen to your girl,” the Man said quickly after. “I’ve been instructed to perform the scene myself if you give me any trouble. I mean, unless you’d rather shoot it?” He challenged Linc with a cock of his eyebrow.
I immediately yanked Linc back down to the couch, but he growled out, “You sick fuck! I’ll kill you for this one day! You hear me? You’re fucking dead!”
In a few steps, the Man was grabbing Linc’s shoulder, and hoisting him back off the couch. I screamed, “Stop! Don’t!” but it all fell into the maddening noise of this room.
The sound of the lights, the cameras, the depravity.
My chains between my wrists and ankles clanked as I moved toward them—not even bothering to try and cover my nakedness. I hadn’t been for a while.
What the fuck was the point?
The Man didn’t hit him, but he was holding him by the shirt, and his voice was disturbingly low and calm as he said, “I think I’ve been pretty lenient so far. I mean, shit—all you have to do is perform a hot sex scene with your girlfriend. You know I’ll make it look good, so, man the fuck up and just do it.”
Linc’s face mirrored the horrified confusion of my own.
Not that there was any doubt, but the Man’s small outburst just now was confirmation his mental capacity was so crooked, he didn’t see a problem with forcing sexual acts on two people who happened to be attracted to each other.
“You got hard when you were kissing me earlier, and when I was touching you. Maybe you’re just more into guys than you thought.” The Man’s voice crawled to Linc’s face. I could physically see Linc working to swallow, and I felt the roll in my own stomach.
And it lurched the words, “M-Master. P-Please. He’ll cooperate. I-I will too. P-Please,” I stuttered in sudden panic. I suddenly needed the Man’s hands off my boyfriend. For some reason, it felt more dangerous than his threat to stand-in for Linc in the film just before.
Dark beady eyes, the color of rotten tree bark, met mine and Linc shoved off of him —away from him— but the Man’s cold gaze traveled down my body. A silent reminder that he’d overpowered me, stripped me down —watched me come.
I cringed thinking about mere moments ago, when he had me pinned down on the floor —his grimy fucking hands. But the thought fell away just as Linc moved back to the couch, and pulled me into him, covering me as much as he could.
My body curled into his side as the Man took the couple of steps toward the couch and his hand reached into his pocket.
I took a moment to breathe in Linc, soak in any bit of comfort I could, but I gasped when I saw what the Man pulled out of his pocket.
He presented the only bit of clothing I started this deranged experience with, and extended them out toward us.
Linc swiped the underwear out of his hand, and the Man smirked. “Let’s get started.”