The sex toy wasn’t shaped like a penis. Light blue, elliptical, about four inches long to fit the batteries, topped with a small dolphin, the dildo purred. Lips dry and tight, Jany stared at the vibrating dolphin. Now that she knew what was going to happen to her, she wished she had let her abductor touch her. She might have fought off a finger, but she had never been able to resist that kind of dildo. Not a woman on this Earth could.
God, help me, he’ll get what he wants. He turned me on with that crappy movie of his, and now he’s gonna finish me off without breaking a sweat. That’s too easy, that’s not fair. I should file a complaint.
The masked man slowly lowered the blue dildo, aiming for the inside of her thighs.
No, don’t do that. Please don’t.
Rattling the chains, Jany tried to bring her legs together. Her non-move seemed so useless, she felt like crying and laughing at the same time. Instead, she moaned as soon as the stimulating dolphin touched her clitoris, already knowing she wouldn’t last a minute.
Cheeks hot, angry and ashamed to let a total stranger give her pleasure, a stranger she couldn’t even see, she submitted herself to his desire. Head down to hide her embarrassment, her whole body quivered when the dildo settled on her excited flesh. But the masked man wanted something else.
Gripping her chin with his free hand, he raised her head, forcing her to look into his eyes. His hold on her was too strong to break. She could have looked away. She didn’t. Somehow, his emerald gaze mesmerized her.
Then a harsh moan escaped from her lips as the vibrating dolphin titillated her clitoris, efficiently rubbing her flesh. Behind the mask, his eyes narrowed when her grunt of pleasure resounded in the basement. Keeping a firm hand on the sex toy, he moved close to her ear.
“Come for me.”
Only a whisper, and she did come for him. As the dildo extracted a long orgasm from her body, she cried her pleasure. Panting and moaning, she barely noticed he had put the toy on the nearest shelf, allowing her to catch her breath. The buzzing noise having stopped, the new plumber’s grunts reached her ears again. In all likelihood, Sarah Conner was more resistant than her.
Vision blurred, Jany watched her tormentor switch the television off. No need for porn anymore. Then he replaced the DVD in the cupboard and the Vaseline jar along with the dildo on the middle shelf. A neat man indeed.
I’m thirsty, I’m hungry, I’m tired. What time can it be? I stayed at work late tonight, I left the store just before closing time, I was out for a while, I bet it’s around eleven o’clock. How long am I gonna hang here? What’s he gonna do? What’s on his mind?
She didn’t have to ask. Grateful, she drank the water he gave her before leaving her alone once more. What was she supposed to do? Shout for assistance? She had the funny feeling nobody would hear her desperate cries. She pictured herself bound in chains and yelling for help, but the image struck her as wrong. The image or the word “desperate”?
He came back too quickly for her to ponder more about her situation. This time, he carried a large plate, delightful smells wafting past her. Her stomach grumbled. Her mouth watered at the welcome sight of buttery mashed potatoes, peas, small onions, and roasted chicken cut into small pieces and soaking in a brown sauce.
Food, I need food. He’s got to release me now. I can’t eat with my hands tied. Dear God, I don’t care if I’m becoming his willing captive, his sex slave, or whatever he has in mind. I just want to eat.
He fed her like a baby. She swallowed every spoonful, ravenous, until she had emptied the plate. The food was delicious, filling her to satisfaction. She drank again as he brought the glass to her lips. Behind the white mask, the green eyes seemed a shade darker. Putting the plate down on the carpet, he took the small key from his pocket.
Damn, he’s gonna grease me like a pig again. I don’t need ointment, I’m fine. I wanna get out. Could he be…? Is he setting me free?
He bent down, and the metal rings around her ankles fell open. He moved to release her wrists. With a loud noise, the chains just hung loose. The masked man pointed to the place situated behind the high, packed bookshelf. The part of the basement Jany hadn’t yet seen.
What could she do? Knock him out and run outside in the buff? The guy was twice her size, her clothes were nowhere in sight, and besides, she had never taken kickboxing lessons.
Play it cool, girl, play it cool. Your time will come. At some point, he’s bound to make a mistake.
Brushing past him, very conscious of her nakedness, Jany took a few steps to discover what mysterious territory lay behind the bookshelf: a bed, a coffee table alongside a shower cubicle, and a toilet. Seeing the john, a sudden, urgent need demanded to be taken into consideration.
There’s no way I’m peeing in front of him. Shame doesn’t kill, oh yeah, but I don’t give a rat’s ass about that. I am not peeing in front of him. I’m sure he’s gonna watch me, just like he watched me come.
She recalled the vibrating, purring dildo in his hand and the firm grip on her chin as he lifted her face. Something inside her gave a little nudge. Was it the sex game they had engaged in, the fulfillment she got from a good meal, or the allaying feeling of being relatively free?
She couldn’t say, but for the first time since she had woken up in these chains, she wanted the masked man to look at her. She wanted him to feast on her naked body.
Taking a deep breath, Jany slowly walked to the shower before casting him a sideways glance. With a quick nod, he gestured to the contents on the coffee table: a new bar of soap, a full bottle of shampoo, and a folded, clean bath towel. Then he crossed his arms over his chest.
Sure he doesn’t talk much, but his meaning is clear, loud and clear. Oh well, I’m stuck in this damn basement anyway. Why not get cleaned up? I guess I’ll feel better after a good shower.
Grabbing the soap and the shampoo, she stepped inside the stain-free, white cubicle. Now in a hurry, she turned the water on to mask any incongruous noise and stretched her legs. Peeing felt like a liberation, much like uncorking a long-awaited bottle of French wine.
Tears in her eyes from the much-needed release, Jany let go of her pent-up feelings. Hot water raining down on her, soap all over her body, she washed away her frustration, rinsed off her distress and helplessness. Strangely enough, fear didn’t come up on her list.
She had no way to keep track of time, but she must have stayed in the shower for at least twenty minutes. Not bad for a single woman in her thirties. When she opened the cubicle door, he hadn’t moved at all. Standing tall and masked, arms crossed, he only approached to hand her the bath towel. Glad she kept her hair short, she was dry in no time, the room being warm anyway. When she was done, he gestured toward the bed.
Is it bedtime or fucktime, my friend? By no means, surprise me, although I know the answer. After chains, porn, and dildo, what’s it gonna be now? Haven’t we already tried everything?
She laid down on the crisp sheets. Watching the tall man come to her, her thighs and belly tingled in anticipation. Did she want him to touch her? Did she really think of having sex with him? Hiding his face meant he looked ugly or at the very least strongly not attractive.
Yet, the white mask and the latex, surgical gloves excited her. The mystery behind the mask requested to be solved. The green eyes called to her in the strangest way. More than a little aroused by her train of thoughts, Jany watched him kneel beside the bed.
Chapter Four
He retrieved long strings of rope from under the bed. Sighing, Jany let him tie her feet and hands to the four corners of the bed. Spread-eagled on the crisp sheets, she was back to square one, his prisoner again. Did he really need a bound woman to get his kicks? Were chains and ropes such a big turn-on for him?
To her surprise, he covered her body with a light bedspread before walking back to the basement door. On his way out, he turned the lights off. Then she heard the lock click into place.
Alone in pitch blackness, Jany pulled on the ropes to set
her mind at ease. The ropes were without doubt secure. Pretty tired, she closed her eyes. Refusing to sleep just yet, she tried to estimate her chances of escape. So far, not very good. Quite poor, to be honest. If she couldn’t escape, she might be able to figure out his intentions and his motives.
Okay, let’s take this from the beginning. He drugs me to keep me locked in chains, but he doesn’t hurt me. Oh, boy, that dildo was something. He kidnaps me like serial killers do, but he takes good care of me. I bet he cooked that meal himself, too tasty to be frozen food. He hides his face behind a mask, yet he seems confident and self-reliant. He obviously brought me here for a reason, so why doesn’t he come out with it? Am I supposed to take a guess? Sure, I’ll give it a try.
Jany heard a muffled noise, a thud coming from the ceiling. So she was alone in the basement but not in the house. He lived upstairs. Had he taken his mask off now that she couldn’t see him?
Let’s focus on facts. He’s a silent man, but he can talk. He must live on his own because he’s very neat and clean. This basement is some kind of headquarters. He had everything prepared in here, well equipped to accommodate a visitor, more likely a victim. Yet, I don’t feel like a victim at all. How come I don’t feel threatened? Because in spite of the chains, he treats me like a guest. Hold on a minute. Who receives guests to give them a good orgasm in lieu of an appetizer?
Her analysis of the situation didn’t make much sense. Try as she might, she couldn’t work out the mystery. At any rate, her mind had drastically slowed down, turning her thoughts into fuzziness. Fastened to a strange bed, she nonetheless felt warm, carefree, and safe.
Jany woke up to a familiar smell. Bright lights on, the basement looked just as it had when she had fallen asleep. She couldn’t sit up, but she smelled coffee and saw the masked man carrying a tray. More to the point, she saw the basement door behind him. Open.
Today, he was wearing black jeans and a light brown, long-sleeved shirt. Couldn’t he feel the heat in this place? Well, she wouldn’t complain as she wasn’t likely to get her clothes back anytime soon.
He placed the tray on the coffee table by the bed. Black coffee, butter, marmalade, and croissants: her favorite breakfast. How did he know? Could it be a coincidence? As he began untying the ropes, Jany recalled her trip to Paris thirteen years ago.
Taking a break in the middle of her senior year at Berksons College, she had lived in Paris for six months. In the most romantic city in the world, she had learned to fall in love. He was a young artist, handsome, exuberant, passionate, self-centered, and broke. By night, he painted caricatures on the steps of the Sacré-Coeur Basilica in Montmartre. By day, he made eager love to her.
As he slept throughout the morning, she had paced the city up and down. On the third day, she had discovered what French breakfast was all about. Sitting outside a nice café, sunshine on her face, newspaper in hand, hot coffee in a large mug, crispy croissants on a white side plate, she had spent the most enjoyable times of her stay. Even better than having a bit of rumpy-pumpy with her French artistic lover.
The masked man set her free, allowing her to stretch her limbs at leisure and to sit on the edge of the bed. As he turned sideways to pick up the tray, she didn’t miss her opening. She bolted for the door. Heart thumping, ears ringing, she rushed for the rectangle that represented freedom.
She didn’t make it to the door, not by a million miles. So close, so out of her reach. Two iron-like arms grabbed her middle. Then she was floating, carried back, thrown onto the bed. She landed on her back, the thick mattress cushioning the blow. Lying flat, a little breathless, she shot him a furious look. Standing up by the bed, he looked tall, powerful, invincible.
The plain white mask moved twice from right to left. His gaze never leaving her face, he grabbed a rope and tossed it to her.
All right, big guy, I get you. Either I eat breakfast like a good girl, or you’re tying me up again. My call.
Jany sat on the edge of the bed and waited for him to place the tray on her knees. Although a small knife was at her disposal, she knew better than to attempt anything rash and impulsive again. Instead, she used it to spread butter and marmalade. When she bit into a warm-from-the-oven croissant, images of Paris at the height of summer swirled around her mind.
“You made this?” Pastry in hand, an orgasmic mouthful sliding down her throat, her eyes opened wide. “I’ve never had such a good croissant since I went to Paris. This is outstanding.”
He didn’t answer, but she fancied she saw him tense. Last night’s dinner had been delicious; this morning’s breakfast was excellent. Once more, Jany was touched by the way he treated her. If she didn’t look at the chains hanging from the ceiling, she might even feel like some kind of honored guest.
Come on, girl, you’ve never been a guest. You’re a prisoner, that’s all there is to it. Don’t get all sappy because he reminded you of good times. Next thing you know, you’re gonna trust him. That would be a huge mistake.
Two croissants sated her hunger, yet she ate a third because she couldn’t let go of the wonderful taste. As she finished the pastry, he reached out to her. In a casual manner, he bent over to flick a crumb from her cleavage with his gloved finger. As light and brief as his touch felt, she froze.
Her blood seemed to be stricken by Saint Vitus dance, her guts constricting without her permission, her nipples stiffening, extending toward the retreating hand. Rooted to the spot, breath caught in her throat, her instincts shouted something she wasn’t ready to acknowledge. To her utter dismay, undesired warmth moistened her pussy.
Chapter Five
Hang on, this is ridiculous. This is unbelievable. I can’t be turned on by a nutcase who’s keeping me locked up in his basement. Is he aware of it? Does he know I want him to jump me right now? Tie me to that bed and do me. Yeah, I bet he does. Dear God, what’s going on? I’m in deep shit here. Someone help me, please.
Nobody would. She was on her own; she had to make do with it. Jany held her breath when the masked man removed the tray from her lap. He didn’t touch her this time, and she almost sighed with relief. She watched him go out, listening for the click of the door. The lock clicked.
Damn it, what was that? Why did I react that way? He’s an ugly, insane bastard. How can I begin to think of sex with him? Maybe he put some kind of drug in my food. An aphrodisiac?
But he was gone, and she was free. With probably no time to spare before his return, Jany hurried to the toilet. Done, she wondered about having another shower, about letting hot water soothe her afflictions. Cutting her musing short, he came back to stand by the metallic bondage device. Then he raised his right hand to show her the little key.
Not the chains again. Shit, what did I do to deserve this? I’d be perfectly happy lying on the bed. Can’t you see that, you great big lummox?
But she walked to him. Head high, shoulders squared, breasts thrust out, the beat of her heart quickening with each step, Jany approached him. He fastened her wrists first, followed by her ankles, the latex gloves brushing her skin. With a sidelong glance, she spotted the dildo on the middle shelf. The blue dolphin seemed to stare at her.
Here we go again. All aboard the merry-go-round. A little buzzing, a little rub rub, and Jany girl will shoot to the stars. What about you, pal? What’s your thing? Is there anything in it for you?
“What do you want?”
The sound of her voice almost startling her, she realized she needed an answer. She waited while he switched the television on, retrieved a DVD from the cupboard, and inserted it in the player. A different soundtrack filled the room, yet not unlike the previous day’s movie. Then the masked man left the basement without a single look at her.
Holy Jesus, look at me! Naked, in chains, spread-eagle. What else can I do but watch porn?
The new actress looked as dopey as Sarah Conner. Also wearing a tiny bikini, she was in dire need of an electrician to fix her circuitry. Against all odds, a hunky professional happened to be in the ne
ighborhood. Knocking on her door, he was promptly ushered into the bedroom where lamps and lighting fixtures looked just fine.
On second thoughts, watching porn proved to be much more entertaining than Jany expected, funnier than worrying over her absence at work, over the earful she was sure to get when she came back. If she ever came back. On the bright side, her parents had gone on a seniors boat cruise, so she didn’t have to call them until next week.
Mom, Dad, I hope you enjoy your cruise. Meanwhile, your only and favorite daughter is having a hell of a time.
On the screen, Brenda and Brandon were fucking like bunnies. They had devastated the bed, the desk in the corner of the room, the en suite bathroom. Satisfying sex yet not unforgettable. They ran for the balcony. After all, the neighbors might also appreciate a live show.
Very much like the previous night, Jany reacted strongly to the crude, colorful movie. As if her mind had taken a day off, her body betrayed her. A particular heat coursing through her, sweat breaking out, and she willed the masked man to come back, to touch her, to stroke her, to do anything he pleased with her as long as he appeased her burning desire. He did.
He might have just meant to check in on her, but one look at her face, and he was standing by her side. Jany saw his gloved hand move toward the shelf, toward the dildo, and a ferocious sensation wrenched her guts.
“Don’t!”
Her vibrant plea seemed to break the walls down. He halted. He looked at her. His deep, green eyes nailed her, crucified her. The chains rattled, the metal rings jarred against her limbs.
She shook her head. “You do it.”
For the first time since she’d found herself in that basement, the masked man seemed surprised. Although Jany couldn’t see his face, she was by now attuned to his impassive stare and to his body language. She knew she had startled him.