Page 18 of Submit
“I love you too bro.”
“You’d better.”
The room falls silent when he strolls out, leaving me alone to my thoughts and daydreams. My eyes vacantly scan over the people outside as I picture her out there as one of them, enjoying her day, basking in the winter sun and unseasonably warm air. Even in my mind she’s stunning, more so than in person, and I know it’s the unhealthy draw I have to her that makes her a goddess in my thoughts.
“I’m royally fucked.” I sigh to myself, running my palms down over my face briskly, trying to scrub away the fog that she casts over me.
The day speeds by, with phone calls and emails that never seem to want to end. I answer ten and ten more come in. Ashley keeps me on my toes with notes and papers to sign, each time giving me a look of disdain when she comes in to my office with something else for me. She’s upset, and rightly so. I know she can feel the shift in me. She can read me like an open book.
At five on the dot, I close my ledgers on my desk and grab my briefcase, shaking off the day and smiling to myself about the coming trip. I really want to feel the bike between my thighs as I tear her around the track. I long for the feeling of my knee pad scraping the ground in the turns, and the rush of the speed that could easily kill me with one wrong move or lean.
“One quick check in with her, and I’ll go.” I promise myself as I stroll out to the garage and mount the bike that will, in 24 hours, be racing around in the hot Florida weather, warming my cold winter bones.
Sliding my briefcase into my backpack, I slam my helmet on my head and fire up my girl, loving the way she vibrates my nuts against the gas tank.
The ride to Tyler’s house is uneventful, and nice, with the wind blowing past me, the cars quiet as I weave between them, and the stoplights all being green as I work my way through the city, up the hill, and into our neighborhood.
The sun is setting already, with the winter night shrouding the sky in the dark purples and blues that will soon turn black. It’s the perfect cover for my peeping as I park the bike at the curb and make my way back through the snow-covered lawn to where I stood less than a day ago, watching.
She’s not in the study, and the lights are off. The house looks dark, still, and silent, but I can feel a presence inside. I can feel her, and only her.
“Are you alone in there my little bunny?” I ask the glass in front of my face, pushing away from it to move around the side of the home.
My shoes crunch in the frozen snow, and my breath wafts out like little plumes of fog from the seams around my visor. I’m cold now that the night has fallen, but I’ll gladly take the chill if it means I get to have at least one look at her. My gloves scrape against the siding of the house as I make my way towards the back and out of prying eyes in the front. I don’t want to have to run from the cops again, right before I need to drop the bike off at the airport to be loaded into the container.
The quiet and sad sounds of her voice make me stop in my tracks. She’s singing something somber yet sweet and melodic, and it’s coming from the window right in front of me. Peering in past the frilly curtains, I see her, naked as the day she was born, toiling away that the kitchen counter. Her nude ass is jiggling as she croons out her song and stirs something in a big metal bowl.
She’s a sight for sore eyes, except for the shackles that chain her ankles together like a fucking slave. Leaning against the sill, I look in and down, seeing a chain that runs from her cuffs to a deadbolt on the floor. She’s attached to it like a dog tethered to a post in someone’s back yard. Nothing more than an animal, and that is unacceptable, especially when I see her reach the end of the chain and stop dead.
Her face falls and her song stops, and her hair drops into her eyes that shed a single tear. She’s crying at her captivity, and it breaks the organ in my chest that barely beats, except when I look at her.
“Fuck this.” I growl to myself, storming away from my view and finding the back door that leads directly into the kitchen where she’s chained.
The door knob wiggles in my grasp but doesn’t turn. It’s locked. It gets her attention though, and the bowl falls from her hands, clattering to the floor when she looks and sees my helmeted head bobbing in front of the lightly draped window in the antique door.
Batter spills out of the bowl, coating her legs and feet, spreading across the floor, making a mess on the front of the cherry wood cabinets. The surprise in her emerald eyes turns to fear when she registers the mess, instantly grabbing at a towel hanging from the front of the oven door. She drops to her knees and cries violently as she wipes at the spilled mixture, spreading it around more than cleaning it up.
The terror in her is palpable, and I can’t bear it. I don’t know what he’d do to her if he came and saw the disaster of his kitchen, but I know it wouldn’t be good just by her reaction to it. I need to get her out, and now.
Chapter Ten
The glass shatters around my gloved fist as I punch through it and reach in, unlocking the door, making more of a mess in the weasels house. I couldn’t give two shits about it though. I have one objective only, to release the enslaved prey chained to the floor, and get her the hell out of here and into the safety of my house.
She’ll never suffer again, unless she begs for it, and after some time with me and my controlled chaos, she will beg, over and over again as I’m making her cum for me, not him. She’ll be my princess and my slut, and everything in between, but first, I need to break her free from her keeper.
“What are you doing?” She yells, frantically wiping the floor and front of the cabinets to no avail.
“Getting you out of here.” I answer her, storming through the door, ripping off my helmet, squatting down next to her, grabbing the thick chain in my hands and giving it a firm yank.
When it doesn’t budge, I run down it until I get to the bolt in the floor. There’s a Master padlock keeping it attached to the anchor, one where it needs a key, but these locks have a weak point, and I know it.
“It’s no use.” She cries, her eyes dripping tears on the floor that she wipes away with the mess.
“Yee of little faith.” I chuckle, rising and searching through the asshole’s kitchen drawers looking for something strong enough for leverage. The junk drawer rattles as I dig through it, my fingers moving things out of the way until I find it, the tool I need. Pulling out a large honing rod for sharpening knives, I hold it up in front of my face with a wicked smile. “You’ll do just fine.” I say to it.
The lock pops open with a hearty lift and twist of the metal stick through the curved latch, and it falls to the floor with a solid thud. She freezes, and looks at me, her green eyes growing large, her jaw trembling. No words come from her mouth, but her hand raises, and she points at me just a second before an earth-shattering scream erupts from her.
Large hands grab my shoulders from behind, squeezing me and lifting me from my crouched position.
