Page 46 of Wicked Games

His arm whipped out to grab me by the back of the neck and pull me against his chest. As I opened my mouth to scream, he swooped down to claim it in a punishing kiss. The damp chill of the foggy night vanished as he pressed his body against my own. As he took a step toward me, I could feel the hard scrape of the tree trunk along my back and the even harder press of his cock against my stomach. He tasted like coffee and tobacco as his tongue swept in to swirl about my own. He consumed me. I fought against the power of his assault even as I clung to his shoulders. This was what it felt like to be the object of someone’s obsession. A constant battle between desire and fear. I warred with my mind even as my body surrendered to his touch.

Pulling away, his heavy breath fell in chilled mists over my face. “Say that again. Say that you’re not mine. I dare you,” he growled.

“Richard, I…”

Swiftly placing his hand beneath my jaw to keep my head still, he then placed a folded piece of fabric over my lips and nose. My eyes widened in alarm as I unwillingly inhaled the sickeningly sweet scent. Using my nails, I clawed at his wrists and forearms, but could not loosen his grasp.

I could feel my body slacken as I was slowly pulled under. My knees weakened as my head lolled against his shoulder.

I heard him whisper against my forehead, “You are mine and mine alone, my love,” before the sweet waves of darkness overtook me.

CHAPTER 17

LIZZIE

Icouldn’t move my arms or legs.

That was my very first thought as I clawed my way back to lucidity.

Opening my eyes the barest of slits, I could see thick leather straps wrapped around each wrist. I inhaled, trying to take a calming breath as panic rose in my breast, but I could feel a hard band preventing my lungs from fully expanding. I was definitely strapped down into a wooden chair. I could feel leather belts around my ankles as I shifted my bare feet over the cold icy tile. Goosebumps rose on my naked flesh as a damp draft circled around.

The air was a fetid mixture of stringent bleach, urine, and mold. As my eyes adjusted to the candlelight, I realized in horror that I was once more in that strange chamber at the asylum. The terror of that moment seized my lungs as I scanned the mostly bare room with pale, tile-covered walls and long tables filled with sinister-looking surgical implements and glass bottles of all shapes and sizes with their gummed labels covered in black ink scrawl.

On the other side of the door, out in the hallway, I could hear slightly muffled voices. Was Richard on the other side of that door? He couldn’t be so cruel as to just leave me here in this hell? I strained to hear what they were saying. Right before the door opened, I could have sworn I heard someone call out, “Everyone ready? And action!”

The moment they did, the entire place seemed to erupt into a chaos of sounds and clatter. Maniacal laughter, screams, the clang of metal chains, footfalls racing to and fro just outside the door, the harsh sound of someone getting slapped, then the sound of a scuffle.

As the double doors opened, I could see nothing but frenetic activity outside in the hallway. A female inmate dressed in a filthy nightgown with shorn hair rocking back and forth on the floor. Another inmate banging her head against the wall. What looked to be nurses but they were dressed in full gowns with aprons and small caps on their heads ignoring all the pain and suffering as they kicked one person out of the way and slapped another for getting a dirty handprint on their white pinafore.

I was so struck by the deplorable display of inhumanity, I didn’t even notice the two people who entered the room until the door was once more shut tightly closed.

Dr. Swede and Mrs. Higgs entered.

The two individuals who had so cruelly tortured me not two days ago.

“I am disappointed to see you return to our sanitarium so soon after your departure, Lady Larkin,” sighed Dr. Swede as he furrowed his brow and adjusted his glasses.

Mrs. Higgs’ mouth puckered as she narrowed her eyes, every gesture an illustration of judgmental bitterness. “I’m not the least bit surprised, Doctor. Once a harlot, always one. Such hysteria brought on by the idle hands and minds of the aristocracy does not deserve our Christian pity,” she spat out.

“Careful, Mrs. Higgs. You don’t want the Duke of Winterbourne hearing you talk like that about his ward or he’s liable to have you and your family shipped off to the colonies before next Michaelmas,” scolded the doctor.

“Where is Richard? I want to see Richard!” I cried out as I strained against my binds.

“The Duke of Winterbourne is awaiting your return in the salon. But first we have to do a full evaluation and examination. He says you continue to exhibit strange flights of fantasy and extremely unsuitable bursts of temper.”

“Fuck you! Help! Help! I’m being held captive! Someone help me!” I could feel my skin pinch and pull as I violently fought the restraints and began to rock back and forth in the chair, setting it teetering side to side on its spindly legs.

Shouting over my screams, Dr. Swede said, “Mrs. Higgs, we will need to start with cold therapy before proceeding to the enema.”

What?

Mrs. Higgs opened a side door and called out to someone. Two large women entered. Each of their stocky faces had that rosy-cheeked appearance of windburn, the slight blush color the only vestige of femininity on either of them given their burly, staunch bodies and the harsh, masculine slope of their brows.

Unlike before where they dumped a bucket of cold water over my head, this time the whole chair was picked up and I was bodily carried through the same side door into a much smaller room. Perfectly square, it was empty except for three large tubs. Suspended at the end of each tub was some sort of metal bracket. They carried me over to the tub in the center and secured the chair into the bracket fittings. I could hear the clack of metal hinges being snapped into place as the wood groaned and squeaked from the compression. Looking down between my legs, I saw the tub was filled to the brim with water.

“You can’t do this! You can’t! Richard! Richard!”

“Calm yourself, Lady Larkin. I assure you this is for your own good.” Dr. Swede gave a nod.

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