Deadly Captive (11 page)

"It's the feeding, my dear boy. We haven't allowed you to enjoy it up 'til the last time we visited. It is positively succulent when done right. Can be quite addictive actually." She turned her head and winked. I followed her gaze and saw Mary standing in the doorway.

Mary's dark flesh had a gray cast. The way she held the doorframe, I knew she was going to faint. I hurried to her side and hugged her to me. She hid her face against my chest and jumped when Chrissie walked out and the door softly shut.

"That's why I always want Cyrus so bad?" Mary whispered with her face pressed to my neck. "That's why you did that . . . why you . . . last time . . . ." She looked up, cheeks streaked with tears. "Lydia, I'm so sorry. God, you tried warning me, I wouldn't listen."

Petting her hair, I opened my mouth to tell her it was okay. I didn't get a chance.

A knock sounded at the door.

We froze. Joe stood. The door swung open, revealing Cyrus.

"Mary, come here my love. Are you all right?" He took a few steps into the room and held his arms out to her.

Mary hesitated. I caught the brief smirk on Cyrus's lips before he dropped back into his feigned look of concern. I didn't want to let Mary go, but I knew nothing good would come from me holding her back. Dropping my arms, I stood there, helpless, as she went to him and let him take her into his embrace.

Cyrus kissed her forehead. "Come, darling. I have another movie planned for us.

From Dusk 'til Dawn
. You can tell me all about it."

The quiet was dark and heavy when they left. I saw Joe take a step toward me and focused on him. Seeing his intent, I was tempted to tell him to go to hell. Instead, I bowed my head and met him half way.

"Please, Lydia. Please forgive me," he whispered into my hair. "I was an ass.

Worse. I was heartless and cruel, and you were right. If I cared as much about you as I've said, I would have tried to find some compassion. I would have known there was more to it than what I thought I saw." He backed away a little and looked down at me.

"You knew when you saw me with her, didn't you?"

I nodded. Taking his hand, not wanting to be separated from him, I went to the table and picked up the abandoned bottle of Baileys. Tugging him over to the bed, I waited as he sat, then curled up on his lap. "Even though you've been a dick lately, you were still you. That changed when she touched your neck. It was like you became someone else. Like you were obsessed. I didn't know exactly why, but I didn't need to."

Joe sighed and wrapped his arms around me. "I don't deserve your forgiveness—

"

"And if we were anywhere else, you wouldn't get it." I opened the bottle and took a little sip. Not to get drunk. I just wanted a comfortable buzz. "But we're not. I'm tired of being stuck in this room with two people that hate me."

Kissing my neck, he gave me a little squeeze. "Mary was still talking to you."

"Because she's a teenage girl and a chatterbox," I said, smiling a little. "I'm glad she decided I was still fit to talk to. I'd hate to see what kind of conversations she would have with herself."

He chuckled, but it was an empty sound. "At least she amuses Cyrus that should keep her safe."

"For now." A dull ache settled in my chest as my mind went over all the things Cyrus could be doing to Mary at that very moment. "But what happens when he gets bored of her?"

"We'll be gone by then."

"Really? Well if you've got something planned—"

"I did! When I only had you and me to consider . . . ." He groaned and rested his forehead on my shoulder. "After you were tortured and Mary joined us, I had to rethink everything. Things are more complicated."

How much you wanna bet that's exactly what Cyrus intended?
I almost asked if Joe thought Cyrus was stupid. He would expect us to try something. Mary could have been added to the mix as a handicap.

"Mary's smart. Now that she knows what Cyrus is really like—" I struggled to find the words to convince him she wouldn't hamper an attempt to escape. Only, I couldn't convince myself. "Joe, she won't survive half of what he's done to me."

"Don't you think I know that?" He put his hands on my hips, and I braced myself, sure he'd shove me off his lap. Instead, he laid me on the bed and looked down at me. "Every scar on your body is a reminder of how I've failed you. If you've lost faith in me . . . ."

His words trailed off. When I didn't answer, he dropped his head and rubbed his face with his hands.

"I don't blame you," he said.

I touched his cheek, then grabbed his wrist when he twisted away from me.

Arching up, I released his wrist and cupped his face in my hands. "You listen to me. I haven't lost faith in you. I just need you to trust me as much as I trust you."

"This isn't about trust, Lydia." He groaned and rubbed his scruffy cheeks against my palms. "I wish I could tell you more, but I can't. You'll know everything when the time is right."

I smiled and nodded, then took my place beside him on the bed. Snuggled up in his big strong arms, I closed my eyes and tried not to worry. But doubt crept into my subconscious.

What if
the right time
came too late to save us all?

Won't happen.
I told myself stubbornly.
Joe knows what he's doing.

But he didn't. And neither did I.

Mary returned during the night. I woke when she crawled onto the bed, and held her while she cried. When she finally calmed down, I asked her what had happened.

She told me she'd had sex with Cyrus, had sex with him, and liked it. She hated herself for liking it because she saw through him now. I wished we could have spared her that, could have left her with her illusions. Her disgust with herself tore at her much worse than anything else he could have done to her. I was sure that was exactly how he'd planned it.

It wasn't the worst thing he did to her. Just a few nights later, he came in with Bruno. After threatening both Joe and me with death should we intercede, he seduced Mary and had her willingly sucking his dick while Bruno fucked her. Joe shouted at them to stop, but I held him back, knowing Cyrus would carry out his threat. To live, we stayed back as they used her, watched her travel the spectrum from rapture to pain as they shared her.

That had been another night when I could do nothing but hold her when she finally came to bed, skin scrubbed raw in the bathroom with the ragged strips of the dress she'd shredded, a gift from Cyrus.

A week later—I knew it was a week because Chrissie made a point of telling us, as though we should feel grateful we'd been left alone that long—we were brought to the glass arena. It was the room I'd been in my first night here, the room where Joe had saved my life. It was the room where we were given a chance to save Mary's life.

We were ordered to perform. We had to make it good. The three of us, together.

They wanted to see me with Mary, Joe with both of us. Cyrus carefully explained this before he left us there.

Behind the glass were hordes of people, sitting row upon row, rapt attention all on us. They were dressed in all styles, from medieval to modern and everything in-between. Somehow, I could sense what they were, each and every one of them. They were just like the creatures who tormented us. There were so many of them. Our situation had never looked more hopeless.

We'd all been given special outfits for our performance. Joe had ripped jeans and a leather jacket, this one lacking the restraints of the one Cyrus usually compelled him to wear. He looked sexy as hell, his broad chest framed nicely by the leather. The jeans and his freshly shaved head gave him a badass look. The kind of bad boy appeal most women drool over enveloped him, and, even in my fear, I couldn't help but feel a little weak-kneed myself, just observing him as he defiantly glared at the crowd.

I would have been even more impressed if I didn't know Cyrus had ordered him to do put on the act.

I was dressed in a long green gown that matched my eyes. While Chrissie had worked on my hair in an opulent room I was sure was hers, I'd had the chance, finally, to see myself in the mirror. I finally had a clear image of myself, a clearer image than I had had during all the time I could recall. The forest green silk gown had been made just for me. It brought out the pallor of my skin and gave me a delicate air. It fit all my curves perfectly, cut low and snug to my breasts, negating the need for a bra. Gauzy sleeves that fell over my hands softened my muscles. In all, I looked feminine, and, I had to admit, as intended, I looked like a sex object.

Mary's white dress emphasized her youth, white to contrast with the lovely golden brown of her flesh. White ribbons separated her tiny braids into pigtails. While I was barefoot and Joe wore boots, Mary wore knee stockings and Mary Jane shoes. Even after what Cyrus had done to her, Mary looked virginal. It was quite likely Cyrus had told the spectators she was.

For the pleasure of the crowd, Joe started with Mary. I was nothing but a prop.

The big bad man with the little girl was more enticing than the willing woman with a man she loved.

"Play the jealous lover, Lydia." Cyrus had told me. His smirk tempted me to punch him in the face and make him swallow his fangs. His eyes twinkled as though he'd caught my thoughts. "Shouldn't be hard while you're watching him stuff his cock into her tight little pussy."

In the arena, Joe wasted little time ripping Mary's clothes from her body. He laughed in her face when she cried out and feebly tried to stop him. All so easy, the tears, the anger. . . . The crowd saw what they wanted. They didn't need to know Joe was angry at being forced to hurt Mary or that Mary's tears were caused by her shame over not believing him when he'd seduced her. For all they knew, Mary had been captured recently. The exact date was on the program Cyrus had shown us before we'd entered the arena. I'd scored the fancy playbill for the date of my capture, my last name, anything . . .

Beneath my picture—taken at some point while I'd been bound in chains during the first "show"—was my first name and a list of preferred kinks. I'd shuddered when I gotten to blood play and skipped to Joe's bio. Apparently, he'd lost his mind, had become obsessed with sex, and was being trained by his masters in all manners of torture.

According to the schedule, Joe would display his new skills in a few weeks. On me. I was relieved to see Mary was being left out of that particular performance.

Tonight would be bad enough.

Joe told Mary to get on her knees. She screamed, calling out to me. Joe slapped her. I covered my mouth and bit my tongue so I wouldn't cry out for her. Joe looked like someone had just ripped his flesh off. Mary gave him a look, a brief one that only Joe and I could see. It held understanding. I knew Joe enough to know how much harder that look made what he had to do.

When Joe unzipped his pants and pressed his hard dick against her mouth, I had to look away. I heard him order her to open her mouth, heard him warn her to watch her fucking teeth. Mary's gagging brought my eyes back to them. Joe pulled her against him. He was having a difficult time staying hard, disgusted with the whole ordeal. I saw it in his eyes.

That was when he shouted for me to come over. He wanted me to kneel behind her and grab her breast. I did it. I took the opportunity to kiss her shoulder, to comfort her, hoping she'd know it would be over soon.

Joe told me to finger her, told me he wanted that virgin pussy nice and wet. It was my cue to protest. When I did, Joe slapped me and grabbed me by the hair. Mary let him fall from her mouth. I stared at him. The act fell apart.

We pulled it back together quickly. I bowed my head and shoved two fingers into her. Joe got his dick back in her mouth. I fingered her, imitating what Joe had done to me on my first night here, hoping to make things easier by getting her wet. I used my thumb to stimulate her clit.

I did it too well. Mary climaxed and cried out. Joe yelled over it to hide the sound as much as he could, telling me to try and breach her with my hand. I worked a third finger in, then a fourth. I slammed them into the oozing wetness of her so audibly the crowd started buzzing with excitement. Joe had pushed me away, hard, and knocked her onto her back. He ate her out, shoved his own fingers into her, and then told me he wanted me sucking her tits.

I did it. I did it, and I didn't stop until Joe told me to. I tried to be rough, but it just wasn't in me. Joe reminded me, twice, in a rough growl, to make it hurt. He'd said it again just before he drove his dick into her body. Mary arched back. I drew away. Then I'd bent down, whispering to her, telling her to find pleasure in the pain, telling her not to let it show. Joe had hit me. I fell to my side, and then I saw them. They looked confused. I realized why, far too late.

Why would the jealous, submissive girlfriend be so nice to her rival?

I tried to recover. Glaring at Joe, I grabbed Mary by the hair with one hand, then twisted a nipple with the other. I laughed in her face when she whimpered. Joe nodded with approval even as he lifted her legs to his shoulders, resting them there so he could go deeper. He told me to hike up my skirt and sit on her face.

I hesitated again. Not wanting to make things worse, I did as he said. Mary played her part well, and my body responded accordingly. We both came together.

Joe drew out of her and told me he was going to fuck me in the ass, with only her pussy juice as lube. Not needing to feign it, I protested. I remembered Cyrus taking Joe aside, giving him instructions that Mary and I hadn't heard. I had resolved to do whatever Joe asked, but I hadn't been expecting this.

He couldn't be gentle. I knew that. But knowing didn't soothe the intense pain when he forced himself past my body's resistance. He told Mary to suck my tits and finger me. With my eyes closed, the sensations helped. I relaxed against the hard thrusts in my ass and was able to find some pleasure in them. Mary kissed me when I climaxed, reciprocating my earlier comfort.

Then the crowd had screamed for an encore.

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