Page 16 of Captured By Fate

We pull up to an imposing iron gate, and with a click of a button, it swings open to reveal a sprawling mansion estate. Any other day and this place would look heavenly, like a hotel. But I know a prison when I see one, this fortress won’t let me out any time soon.

My chance of escape is rapidly diminishing as he pulls up to the grand entrance. I make one last fruitless attempt to pull myself from his grasp before the engine cuts off.

In a swift motion he's out of the driver's seat and wrenching my door open, his grip like a vise on my arm. I kick and flail but he's unfazed, dragging me towards the imposing double doors.

We enter the lavish foyer where he barks an order at the household staff. Their response is automatic deference. I search their faces for any hint of sympathy but find only avoidance.

“Help me!” I cry, but to no avail. Dead-eyed looks dare not cross my face as my cries fall on deaf ears.

“Home sweet home,” Jackson says with laughter, hauling me towards a wide staircase. His tone is sweet and mirthful, and I shudder to think what he has planned for me. Obviously, he’s the law here, it shows in every move he makes.

His steps are purposeful as he pulls me up a grand staircase. The fight hasn't left me yet, but his overwhelming power is slowly sinking in. We reach a bedroom and with a shove, I'm inside, with Jackson smiling from ear to ear.

I can’t place his intentions, but as he rolls up his sleeves, I feel my breath quickening within me.

I'm trapped, at the mercy of my captor within these ornate walls.

“Strip,” he demands, placing his hands on his hips.

“What?” I ask, confused, or buying time, or both.

He pulls his phone from his pocket, and a video pops up of a familiar, and equally terrified face. Marcy.

“Let her go,” I beg.

“Strip,” he repeats. And I know I’m going to do it. These clothes aren’t the only thing I’d give to get Marcy out of trouble.

Looking over at Jackson, I turn around to start with my shirt.

“No,” his voice is as stern as steel. “Face me while you do it.”

The air thickens, every molecule heavy with dread as Jackson repeats the command. "Strip."

His voice is devoid of emotion, a chilling order delivered with the cold, hard finality of a judge's gavel. My stomach lurches. My gaze darts to his hand, the telltale glint of metal reflecting in the dim light – a camera. A cruel smirk twists his lips as he raises it, the lens a predatory eye focused solely on me.

He won't hesitate. If I don't comply, he'll turn that lens, that cruelty, on Marcy. And I would die a thousand deaths before I let him hurt her.

So I move, each discarded piece of clothing a searing brand against my skin. A sweater, a shirt, and a pair of jeans all to the floor – a growing pile of my own humiliation. His eyes, like icy shards, never leave me, drinking in my shame as if it were water in a desert.

The chill in the air intensifies as I stand before him, utterly bare. He makes no move to touch me, yet I feel utterly violated. With a finality that steals my breath, he collects my panties, stuffing them into his pocket like a hunter claiming a trophy.

Then, with a last lingering look, he turns and leaves, the slam of the door echoing the beat of my own frantic heart. I am a prisoner in my own skin, trapped in this cage of his making.

The sound of the lock clicking into place seals my fate. My heart pounds so hard in my chest I fear it might explode.

Fuck me, what have I gotten myself into this time?

10

JACKSON

Damn, it's good to be me.

Thinking back to the hot mess I left waiting in my guest room, and the souvenir of her submission sitting in my pocket, it doesn’t get much better than this. This is what I love most about being me, that moment before a woman’s resolve gives in when the fight is still in her eyes. I know soon enough, she’ll open only for me, but getting there is worth the wait, and certainly the effort.

My mind rolls back, replaying the night before with a flickering display of my dominance over Kelley. The heat roils in my groin as I remember watching her comply, her fingers trembling as she stripped off each piece of clothing.

I savor the way she averted her eyes, clearly embarrassed. But in her gaze, I saw a flash of defiance, her inner strength refusing to be diminished. As more of her smooth skin was revealed, my pulse quickened. I wanted nothing more than to touch her, to claim every inch of her luscious body.

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