She caught me off guard when she tried to run past me like that. I hadn’t planned on hurting her. For what purpose? That style of rough doesn’t do much for me. Now if she was riding my cock, choking her might be fun, and not just for me, but just to punish her?
It’s far too blunt for my usual tastes.
Then again, keeping a woman prisoner in my fucking basement isn’t my usual taste either.
I catch her sneaking glances at me as she eats. She thinks she’s being sly, but I see her do it each time. How easy it is to change a person’s mind with just the simplest nice deed. Yesterday, I dangled her from my hand as I choked her into unconsciousness, and now today with a cup of yogurt that cost less than a dollar, she’s back to wondering about who I am and why I wear this mask. I bet if I fed her regularly for a few days I could get her to do practically anything I wanted.
She scrapes the spoon off the bottom of the plastic cup in an effort to gather every last bit of food. It makes her look desperate while I stand over her in a two thousand dollar suit and leather shoes. The noise instantly irritates me, so I grab the cup and spoon from her hold.
A hurt look is what I get in return. Those dark eyes of hers that seem to always look so glassy stare up at me and silently beg for more.
“See what happens when you behave, angel?” I ask with a smile she can’t see, genuinely happy she hasn’t tried anything stupid today.
“Why are you doing this to me? I don’t think I could have hurt you in any way.”
“I told you. Your husband gave you to me.”
Even I have to silently admit how strange that sounds. Someone gave me a person. A flesh and blood human being.
“Do you have a lot of women like me?” she asks quietly, catching me off guard. I’d expected another protest about how she doesn’t deserve what’s happened to her.
Shaking my head, I answer her truthfully. “No. You’re the only one.”
Her dark eyes grow wide at hearing that. “Are you going to kill me then?”
“Do you know what a non sequitur is?” I ask with a chuckle.
“Yes. Are you going to kill me?”
“I told you before, no. I have no plans to.”
“Why do you keep me in this room?”
“Why do you ask so many questions?”
Her mouth turns down into a deep frown, and she hangs her head. “Because I have no other contact than with you. I think it’s only natural to want to talk to someone once in a while.”
“Even someone who nearly killed you yesterday?”
Without looking up at me, she says with a sob, “Yes.”
Who knew breaking a suburban housewife could be so easy?
I have no answer I want to give her for why I keep her here. The truth is I don’t know what else to do with her. I have a business to run and having her around getting in the way and seeing what she shouldn’t see isn’t what I need.
Looking up at me, she asks, “What is your name?”
For a second I don’t know what to say. “You ask too many questions, angel.”
“Can’t I even know the name of the person who keeps me a prisoner? I have nothing else. You’ve taken everything else away. What harm does it do to give me a name to call you?”
I know what she’s doing. She’s not as clever as she thinks. She is smart, though. I have to give her that.
“If you behave yourself, I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
But that doesn’t satisfy her, and she asks yet another question. “Do you wear that mask so I can’t see your face to identify you?”
I have to fight the urge to shake my head, so I stare down at her, narrowing my eyes to slits to show her the time for her questions has ended.
She takes the hint but keeps talking. “I’m hoping that’s the reason because…” For a few seconds, she falls silent, but then she finishes her sentence. “That means you plan to let me go at some point.”
Now would be the time I’d expect her to swear up and down that she would never tell anyone about what’s happened here and she promises to say nothing and never go to the police. Instead, she stares up at me and waits for me to respond to her.
I have no idea if I plan to let her go at some point. Well, that’s not true. Of course, I can’t keep her forever. I can barely figure out what to do with her for half a week’s time. I’ve watched her for hours and convinced myself she’s never going to be a girl Jasper can put to work. I can only imagine what he’d do with all her fucking questions.
“Maybe I’ll give you to a friend of mine who keeps a stable of girls. That could work out.”
I don’t know why I say that because I’ve already decided I don’t want to do that. The confusion written all over her face tells me she has no idea what I mean by a stable of girls. Fuck, she’s either stupidly naïve or innocent. Either way, I can’t imagine handing her over to him.
“A stable? I don’t understand,” she says, shaking her head.
“Whores. He’s a pimp, and the stable of girls work for him. I could give you to him.”
Panic flashes in her eyes. “Please don’t. I can’t…I couldn’t…”
I have no good reason to continue this conversation about something I already know I’m not going to do, but I keep taunting her. Stepping back, I look her up and down as she sits on that dirty twin mattress in only her bra and panties and shrug.
“You’ve got a decent body. Why couldn’t you do that?”
“Did my husband know you might do this when he supposedly gave me to you?” she asks in a voice tinged with hurt.
Nodding, I tell her what she likely already knows somewhere deep inside. “Yes. I told him I might do that.”
She winces in pain and looks away. “I wish I was like you. Someone like you would never care enough to be hurt by anyone,” she says softly and then falls silent.
I walk out with the empty yogurt cup in one hand and the spoon she licked clean in the other as she quietly sobs behind me. She’s wrong. I know about being hurt. It’s what made me the man I am today.