Page 9 of Reclaimed

“I was wondering if those men… Did they take anything else from my house?”

“Yes.”

There was no suggestion that he was going to give me any more information than that and I didn’t want to push the matter. But I couldn’t help picturing it – those strangers in my home. How had they left it? I imagined it completely ransacked, like after a break-in, but knowing Ray’s style, I supposed it was more likely they knew exactly what they were going in for and had been in and out before anyone had a chance of catching them. Poor David. Which had he discovered first? The state of the flat, or his missing fiancée. How long did he wait before calling the police? Was it too soon for them to have started looking for me?

“That poor, busy little brain of yours.” I looked up to find Ray staring at me, seemingly amused by my distress. “Try not to overthink things right now. Come sit with me here.”

We sat up at the breakfast bar with the wine, going over various matters. Ray seemed to be in practical mode, which suited me fine. He wanted to know what foods he should order and whether there were other clothes and toiletries I’d need. He asked me for all my logging and financial data – passwords, PINs – and I gave them to him. What choice did I have? Anyway, maybe if he attempted to use them, it would help the police track down where we were.

It was surreal, but I felt a sense of relief. This was the kind of thing I was good at – planning and being organised. The wine was helping me relax too, although by the time we were done, it had made me extremely sleepy.

“I think you should rest before dinner.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll come and get you when it’s ready.”

Being in Ray’s presence left me drained, like I’d forgotten to eat, or pulled an all-nighter. All the second-guessing… never knowing whether he was going to get angry and hurt me again, although I thought the sight of my red cheek was putting him off. Rope marks on my wrists was one thing but hitting me across the face like that… He wasn’t so deranged that he couldn’t see how that was different. I think on some level he still felt justified in what he had done, that I had somehow deserved it. The amount of loathing in that look he’d given me – it kept coming back to me and making me shudder.

I longed for the safety of David – I’d never appreciated the security of an ordinary life as much as I did then. Why did I find it so hard to just be happy with ordinary? I’d wanted excitement… Well, here it was. I’d been a fool. If I ever escaped, I’d cherish every single day of normality and safety that David could offer.

*

I had thought there was no way that I’d sleep, but it felt like only moments later when I woke to find Ray beside me, stroking my arm. In the few seconds of grogginess before I fully woke up, I felt comforted and thought about closing my eyes again, but when consciousness properly kicked in, I felt petrified. Us both being on a bed like that made me feel incredibly vulnerable. I really didn’t know where Ray’s head was at. He seemed so volatile that I was still expecting him to suddenly decide he wanted me enough to force himself on me. He’d always been insatiable when it came to sex, and in the past, we never would have gone this long without ripping each other’s clothes off. I was terrified that he would grow impatient. It had always been consensual before, even though I’d often played it coy, but now there were moments when he seemed so full of hate for me that I figured he was perfectly capable of rape.

And yet, that view of him was so at odds with the way he behaved the rest of the time. He wanted me safe, healthy, comfortable, even happy. But was that for my benefit? Or his?

“What are you thinking about?”

“I’m trying to work out how afraid to be,” I replied, keeping my eyes on the opposite wall.

“And have you decided?” I shook my head. “You are stunning when you’re frightened.” My breath caught in my throat, and I closed my eyes, trying to will myself out of the situation. I heard him laugh softly. His hand moved to my face, and he started stroking my sore cheek menacingly. “Just like that… when you act so scared, but we both know that you love that feeling, that sense that your Master could do anything he wanted to you at any time, and you’d be powerless to stop it. That turns you on, doesn’t it?”

I said nothing. I wanted to deny it, but we both knew it was true. The times I’d been the most afraid of him had also been the times I had been most excited. Quite soon after we’d started experimenting with some kink in the bedroom, Ray had had me tied up in the bed, which I was fine with, and I liked, but then he’d brought out a candle and a lighter, and I’d felt totally freaked. That had seemed a whole other level, unsafe. I’d been afraid that the pain would be too much for me, or that he’d burn me, but I had frozen up and kept quiet – as I always did when I was afraid. I had wanted to let him do that to me, and more, so I had willed myself to stay still and accept what was coming. And that moment had been so intensely erotic precisely because I had felt so much fear – the fear heightening every little part of the experience – and also because I enjoyed submitting to Ray in spite of that fear. And it had felt so good. Ray had never done anything more than I could handle, and we had both loved it. But that had been when I had trusted him to not go too far or hurt me too much, and when he had enjoyed it because he knew he was giving me pleasure. Now, my genuine fear that he would properly hurt me was having the same effect on him, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

“Well, I don’t know how much comfort this will bring you, but I’m not going to hurt you in any way that you don’t deserve.”

That didn’t comfort me in the slightest. Part of me wanted to argue with him again that I hadn’t done anything wrong, but I knew it was pointless, and he seemed to be in a dangerous mood.

*

I felt queasy as we sat at the table and declined the glass of wine Ray offered. Eating seemed an impossible task with him sitting so close. It felt too hard to breathe let alone eat. Ray finished eating long before me and regarded me across the table. His scrutiny was paralysing. I loathed those long silences when all he did was watch me. I felt like he was enjoying a game that I wasn’t party to. When he spoke, he tried to sound casual, but I could sense how loaded the conversation was going to be.

“You stopped texting me. Why?”

I wished he’d stop trying to draw me into these conversations. I couldn’t face more conflict. I stared down at my food.

“I shouldn’t have been contacting you at all.”

“Maybe not. But you were. What changed? Did he find out?”

“I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“Come on, Callie.”

“No. You’ll just get angry again.”

“I won’t get angry. I’m the one who asked, aren’t I? You can be honest with me.”

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