Page 27 of Don't Say A Word

I need to touch her.

Telling her to stand, I remind myself it is why I’m here. It is what I need to get her used to, being touched, being used. Holding her arms above her head, I run my hands over her body and lower myself to my knees.

She is so beautiful. Perfect. She wears innocence like a cloak, but her fragrance is temptation. She deserves to be worshipped not punished. I press my lips to her stomach, pushing thoughts of what Junior will do to her out of my mind. But they keep flooding back. I keep seeing her flawless skin marred with bruises. Her eyes blank and lifeless. I would rather see hatred than that.

And then a tear falls onto my cheek, taking me out of my haze of longing. I wipe it with my thumb and bring it to my mouth. She tastes of salt and sadness.

I move away from her and she attempts to cover herself. I imagine Junior in my place. I imagine the sting of his punishment and instruct her never to cover herself.

Then I give her the only thing I can. The only thing she craves other than freedom. I allow her another question.

“Who requested me?”

I shake my head, knowing I can’t give her the answer she wants. Junior has made it clear that that piece of information is his to reveal.

She swallows as though it is painful, and I turn away from her, knowing I need to leave before I press my tongue to her cheek, wanting to swallow her tears.

“Do I know him?”

I think back to what Junior said when he came to visit, how her voice spoke to his soul. He must know her, but whether she knows him is something I don’t know. He could have just followed her, lurking in the shadows. He could be known to her, infiltrating her life. He could be a stranger she stumbled across. Junior knows how to put on a show when it is required of him.

“He knows you,” is all I say, then I walk out the door, leaving her with more questions dancing in her eyes.

Marcel sits at the monitors, an apple in hand and chewing loudly. He’s always here, always lurking. It’s getting on my nerves.

“Don’t you have something else to do?” I bark at him.

He smirks, bits of apple showing through his teeth as he chews and shakes his head. “Not really. Mine are all under control. Yours though…” He whistles and shakes his head again before taking another bite. “They’ve really dumped you in the deep end, haven’t they?” He talks with his mouth full.

“They wanted to keep her away from fuckwits like you.”

Marcel grins again. “Woof. Woof,” he says and winks, insinuating I’m nothing more than the Atterton’s guard dog. “Why don’t you get her to blow you or something? You clearly need to let off some steam.”

“Fuck off.” I’m a man of few words.

“Are you afraid she’s going to bite?” He chomps on the apple. “Take a chunk of the old pecker?” Bits of apple fall from his mouth as he speaks. “Or is there not enough of it to be worried about?”

I walk down the hallway but Marcel yells after me. “She’s showering now. She looks awfully tasty all wet. It’s a good thing, I guess, since she has nothing to dry herself with. You really are rather shit at this, aren’t you? Did you think it would be simple? Just bark a few orders and she would fall to her knees in submission?”

Doing my best to calm my simmering anger, I walk back to the storage cupboard and yank a towel from the shelf.

“It’s about more than that,” Marcel continues. “You’ve got to anticipate their needs. Then you’ve got to decide whether you wish to fulfill them.”

I key in the code angrily and ignore him mouthing off behind me. Sitting on the only chair in the room, I wait for her to exit the bathroom. The water stops and she walks out. Even though she hasn’t been clothed since I ripped them from her, the sight of her nakedness takes my breath away. Water drips from her hair and runs down her body in rivulets.

“Don’t say a word,” I mumble. She drops to her knees, but only when I feign reaching for the lash in my back pocket. I toss the towel at her and tell her to dry herself, but rather than obeying my command, she wraps the towel around her shoulders and nothing more. She doesn’t drop her gaze or hold her body in submission. Aware of Marcel watching, I give the command again, only this time with more conviction to my tone.

She just sits there, testing my resolve. My eyes flick to the camera as I walk behind her and whip the lash across the soles of her exposed feet. It’s almost as though I can hear Marcel clapping his approval on the other side of the wall.

But still, she doesn’t move. I lash again until a hiss of pain escapes her.

“Stand!” I command.

Anger starts to boil my blood. I want to yell at her, swear and tell her how much worse it would be if she had someone like Marcel here instead of me. Wrapping my arms around her I attempt to drag her to her feet, but she goes limp like a rag doll, forcing me to drag her toward the button that lowers the chains. I press it, hoping it will scare her into submission even though I won’t use them. But there’s no reaction. She stays limp in my arms. By now the bubbles of anger are popping over my skin, causing bursts of adrenaline to spike.

I haul her onto my lap and she finally comes to life, struggling against me as I pin her between my legs.

“Let me go!” she hisses.

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