Page 25 of Brutal Surrender

“I know you’re awake, pet.”

Chapter 13

Martina

Ican’t catch a break with this motherfucker.

But I keep my eyes closed and remain motionless. If I don’t acknowledge him, maybe I won’t have to deal with him. Surprisingly, he hasn’t done anything to me so far. Maybe he actually feels bad that I nearly died?

That’s fucking ridiculous. He’d probably treat a fly better than he would me.

“I shouldn’t let you out of the harnesses because you’re on suicide watch,” he says. “But you’re going to get bedsores if you stay in the same position much longer.”

WTF. He cares if I get bedsores? Is it because they’re unsightly to him? He doesn’t seem to care that I have a black eye and a busted lip.

“It’s your choice,” he continues. “You can do as I say—which means you don’t try anything without my permission—or we keep you strapped to the bed with your IVs and your catheters.”

I open half an eye. Did he just say I had a choice? Is this a trick question?

When I don’t respond, he says, “It would be a lot easier on Misty and Xander if you were strapped to the bed. They wouldn’t have to watch you as closely.”

My mind is still searching for the catch. I can’t fathom his motivation.

He smirks. “Maybe you like being tied down and pissing into a tube?” His gaze drops to the collection bag beside my hospital bed before adding, “I don’t have any hard limits. None whatsoever. So if you’re into piss or scat play, I’m game.”

“What happens if I want out of the harnesses?” I ask.

“You can move around. Get out of the bed even. Use the bathroom.”

This sounds unreal. Use an actual bathroom? That’s a luxury compared to my options in the cage.

“But the second you try anything funny, we tie you down again,” he warns. “Right after you’re severely punished. And I think you have a good idea of what that can be like. I promise you it will be unforgettable.”

I still don’t understand why he’s doing this, but I don’t want to miss out on the chance to be free to move about. “I’d like to get out of the harnesses, please.”

I expect him to come back with, “Actually, there’s no choice. I just wanted to fuck with you.”

But he only says, “We’ll take off the harnesses after we move you.”

Without another word, he leaves. I look over at Misty, a stout woman with chin-length hair pulled into a ponytail to reveal her undercut. Her gaze is emotionless, as if she sees me as an inanimate object. Does she know what happened to me down in the bottom of the yacht? Is she a hundred percent loyal to Vincent? Probably.

But just in case there’s an opportunity here, I try to start a conversation. “How long have you worked for Vincent?”

No answer.

“Was he sitting in that chair for a long time?”

No answer.

Vincent didn’t say I could talk to her. Am I going to get in trouble? I stop talking to her.

Have things changed? Possibly for the better? That seems to be too good to be true given who Vincent is.

My thoughts turn back to Brady. I hope he’s okay. I wonder if he’s tried or will try to communicate with me.

A few minutes later, the doctor returns with a nurse and someone I don’t recognize. They unhook me from the monitor and remove the IV and catheter before rolling the bed out of the room, down the hall and into the elevator. I start to get nervous. What if they’re taking me back down to the dungeon?

However, the elevator goes up. They go down a corridor I haven’t been through before and enter a large room with hardwood floors and nicely appointed with a few paintings, small sculptures, and potted plants. The king-size bed faces expansive windows overlooking the sea.

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