Page 82 of Sinister Games

CHAPTER25

LIZZIE

Iawoke with a start. Sitting up on the lush circular cushion that had been placed on one side of the cage, I grimaced when my sore muscles protested.

Looking around, I could only see towering palm trees and large, glossy leafed bushes in bloom. From the marble tile and high glass ceiling, I could only assume I was in some sort of conservatory. Catching a few glimpses through the foliage of the outside world, all I could see were rolling fields of grass and more trees. I must be at one of his estates, I mused.

Sucking air through my teeth, I braced for the pain as I stood. Running a hand over my collarbone, I realized the gold chain was gone but the diamond collar remained. Wrapping my hand around one cold metal bar, I tested its strength. It held. Looking up, I could see the domed ceiling of the cage. It stretched a couple of feet above me and was at least twenty feet wide. Dangling just out of reach, suspended from the center, was what looked to be a swing covered in black velvet.

I was in a birdcage.

Hadn’t he always called me his little bird?

His new game was to treat me like his pet because I had failed at being treated like a girlfriend. Richard was many things but subtle wasn’t one of them.

Had this been his plan for me all along? From the first bejeweled bird pin? The thought was chilling. Sitting down, I hugged my knees to my chest as tears streamed down my cheeks.

What had I done?

How had I attracted the attention of such a madman?

Once more I thought of the almost cab accident. He said that was not when we first met, maybe he was right? Could I not be remembering how we met? How was that possible? He had threatened that he had ways to make me forget and I truly didn’t doubt that. A man of his power and wealth probably had access to untold resources. Look at this cage. Someone had to have willingly built it for him. And his staff? They had to know I was here and yet they didn’t care.

I realized with a start. No one was going to save me.

Not even myself.

It was a harsh, sobering thought. A moment of too much bright clarity when all I wanted to do was curl up in a self-pitying ball and weep, but I had to face the truth. I had put myself in this cage as much as he. I might as well have willingly crossed the threshold and locked the door behind me.

Hadn’t I encouraged his games?

Hadn’t I willfully refused to question him when he stated we had met earlier than I remembered?

Or questioned any of the other anomalies of our relationship?

How he seemed to know things I hadn’t told him?

Hadn’t I let him lead me down this dark and twisted sexual path of ever-increasing tortures?

In a fucked-up way, I not only wanted it, I practically begged for it.

There was no denying it. I loved the attention. The amazing sex. The thrill of being with such a powerful man. I loved the fact that he took control over my life. Loved that he bought me beautiful gowns and dictated when he wanted me to wear them. Loved the jewelry and the fancy restaurants. Loved how he commanded both me and the room.

To be around Richard was intoxicating. All that arrogant confidence and control. I began to crave it, need it, to breathe it in like air.

He was dangerous and domineering and I submitted to every moment.

He may have invented the game but like it or not, I was a willing player.

* * *

There wasa loud bang as two large doors at the end of the conservatory swung open. I could just see the tops of their heads over all the leaves and flowers but it looked to be about six or seven of them struggling with something heavy. As they neared the cage, I scooted back to the far end of the cushion, aware Richard had ripped off the back of my costume and I was now bare and exposed.

I knew better than to try to call out to one of them.

Between them they carried a massive circular object. It appeared to be made out of clear, thick glass. My brow wrinkled as I watched them place it near the cage. Each of the men refused to even glance in my direction and they quickly scurried out of the room. Next a long line of women, dressed in maid’s uniforms, filed in, each carrying a copper bucket. One by one they filled the massive glass bowl with steaming water. At one point, one of them broke rank and took a few hesitant steps toward the cage. Unwinding my arms, I sat up straighter. Was she going to speak to me?

A matronly looking woman cleared her throat and the maid rushed back into line. That same woman picked up a few small pitchers off a silver tray secured to the side and poured the contents into the bath. Through the clear glass, I watched the iridescent, creamy liquid soap swirl and slowly dissipate into the water as fragrant wafts of steam rose above the rim.

---