The Keyholder (14 page)

Eva lifted her chin, her nod resolute. “You’re right, Nora.” She picked up a pair of the silky panties again. “I
am
strong. Thank you for the reminder.”

“I have one more surprise,” Nora said, grateful for Charles’ excellent suggestion when they were considering what to get for Eva. “For when you go out.” She reached into the duffel and pulled out the last gift, her heart skipping with anticipation.

Eva took the flat, shiny box, the words
Angela’s Heavenly Hats
embossed on the lid and looked up at Nora with a grateful smile. She opened the lid to reveal the two hats Nora and Charles had chosen together—one a deep purple velvet slip-on turban with gold piping, the other a vintage woven straw hat with an off-white lace band.

Eva slipped the turban over her head, her face breaking into an angelic smile that made Nora catch her breath with its simple beauty. “You like?”

“I love,” Nora said sincerely. She glanced around the partitioned area. There was no mirror, something Jack would need to rectify. “Want to go see for yourself?” She stood from the bed and held out her hand.

Eva took the offered hand and stood. She reached for Nora, who wrapped her arms around her once more. Eva’s shoulder blades protruded from her slender back like angel’s wings, and Nora’s heart ached to think what this young woman had been through.

“Thank you, Nora,” Eva whispered, and Nora could feel the pain beneath the gratitude in the girl’s words. “Thank you for finding me.”

“Come on, just one peek.”

Jack had promised himself not to push, but his curiosity was getting the better of him. He could have looked at her easel when she was asleep, but that wasn’t his style. An artist’s work was sacred, and viewing it without invitation was no different than spying on someone through their bedroom window.

He had set her up in a corner of the spacious studio, and she appeared quite at home behind her easel, several boxes of watercolors open on the supply table beside her, brushes soaking in water glasses, pads of watercolor paper piled beside them. For her latest effort, he’d provided the full-length mirror she requested, and he was wildly curious to see the self-portrait she’d been painting, discarding, and then re-painting for the past five days running.

There was no question Eva had some serious talent, though she continued to downplay her skill, claiming it had been years since she’d had the time to paint, and she had only done it as a form of relaxation. She’d already painted dozens of pieces, most of them flowers and landscapes from memory, and while the subject matter wasn’t particularly exciting, her use of color and light were quite engaging, sometimes even inspired.

In the three weeks since she’d come to stay with him, their relationship had remained entirely platonic, despite Jack’s undeniable growing attraction to Eva. She had told him how well she was doing in therapy, and it was true the nightmares from which she’d suffered almost nightly during the first ten days or so had eased dramatically, but there was no getting around what had happened. That bastard had perpetrated the worst possible crime, short of murder, in Jack’s estimation. Even beyond the physical torture and deprivation, he’d stolen Eva’s freedom and violated not only her body but her trust. The trial date had been set, and then pushed back due to some court scheduling issue. The sooner that monster was behind bars for good, the better.

Eva looked up from her canvas. “I’m not ready to show you yet. I should be done soon.” She smiled at him. Her hair was growing back, and when the sun shone through the window behind her, it lit the fuzzy blond down like a golden halo around her angelic face.

Her features had lost that starved, pinched look. Her large brown eyes were less haunted, though pain sometimes flashed darkly through them, especially when she was still caught in the tangled ropes of a nightmare, before full consciousness had returned. “If I can get this the way I want it, you’ll be the first one to see.”

Contenting himself with this response, Jack returned to his own work. It was a nearly life-size replica of the miniature he’d shown Nora and Charles, with one difference. In the smaller piece the nude knelt up, arms lightly grasped behind her back, her face lifted in peaceful serenity. This full-size sculpture was identical, save for one key aspect. Behind her back, her right hand was curled like a bird’s talon, the fingers arched and twisted to indicate both the passion and pain of erotic submission, and of life itself. It was the hand Jack had been focused on for the past week, determined to capture his vision in the clay.

“Jack. Jack? Did you hear me?”

Jack looked up, startled at the intrusion. “Oh! Sorry, about that. Did you need something?” He wiped his clay-smeared fingers on his smock and pushed the hair that had fallen over his eyes away from his face. Eva was staring at him, her hands on her hips. A glance at the wall clock told Jack nearly two hours had passed since they’d last spoken. As so often happened when he was caught up in the creative process, time had simply vanished into thin air.

Eva laughed. “You were off in the zone somewhere. I said, I think I’m done with the damn thing. Or anyway, I can’t stand working on it for one more second. You want to see?”

“You know the answer, you little tease,” he said, grinning. Even as the last words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. He’d been very, very careful not to behave in a flirtatious way with Eva, no matter the temptation. She was a wounded bird, he reminded himself over and over again. The last thing she needed was some guy coming on to her while she was trying to recover from sexual trauma.

She didn’t seem offended, thank goodness. She offered a small shrug. “Be honest,” she said, then added, “Well, not too honest. This is my first effort at a self-portrait. If it totally sucks, try to let me down gently, okay?” She laughed nervously.

“You got it.” Jack moved toward her corner of the studio. She stepped back as he approached the easel, the fingers of her right hand going to her mouth, reminding Jack with a pang of the terrible state of her fingernails when he’d first found her—bitten bloody from nerves and anguish during her imprisonment. He resisted the urge to yank her hand from her mouth or admonish her. He would focus instead on distracting her with his critique, which he promised himself would stress the positives, no matter what he found on the canvas.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, momentarily stunned by what he was seeing. The pretty flowers and imagined farm scenes she’d painted hadn’t prepared him for this. Where before she’d used vibrant colors in splashes on the canvas, this work was more muted, though by no means dull or pale.

The portrait was of her head, neck and shoulders, the palette in pale pinks, shades of cream and gold. Though it wasn’t photographic in its representation, the image was clearly Eva. The lines were strong and simple without being overworked. She’d done a lovely job hinting at the delicate bones of her face and shorn skull beneath the translucent skin.

But it was the eyes that grabbed Jack’s attention and wouldn’t let go. Somehow she’d captured both anguish and passion in that somber, intent gaze. The work radiated a kind of quiet luminosity that fairly vibrated with energy and light.

“What?” Eva hovered nervously behind him. “You don’t like it?”

“No. I don’t like it.” He blew out a breath. “I fucking
love
it, Eva. This is amazing work. Where did you learn to paint like this?”

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “You like it! I mean, for real? This isn’t be-nice-to-the-clueless-art-student praise?” Jack turned to regard her. Her cheeks had flushed a pleasing pink, and her eyes were bright with hope, though her expression was anxious.

“No, it isn’t anything of the kind,” he responded with a laugh. Sobering, he continued, “Jesus, Eva. I’m serious. Your use of color and light is just extraordinary. And the emotions you managed to capture...” He shook his head in wonderment, stepping back to view the painting from a different angle. “It’s really fantastic. I’m talking show-worthy. You’ve got real talent.”

“Thank you,” she said softly. She started to say something else, it seemed to him, but she bit back the words, only repeating, “Thank you.”

Eva lay naked on the bed, her wrists tethered to the four-poster bed by thick chains. Jack straddled her perfect body, staring down at the gumdrops of her dark pink nipples, his mouth watering with desire, his cock hardening to steel.

“Do you want it?”

“Yes. Oh, yes, please, Sir,” she begged.

Jack nodded and reached for her right nipple. He gripped it, rolling the malleable, sweet marble between thumb and forefinger, his cock throbbing as she gasped. He closed the first clover clamp over the nubbin, his balls aching as she moaned.

“The other?” he queried, holding the second clamp at the ready.

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered. She was trembling, her eyes fixed on the clamp.

He gripped the other nipple and let the clamp close over it. He could hear both the desire and the erotic pain in her swift intake of breath, and the combination thrilled him. Lifting the chain, he touched it to her mouth. The resulting tension in the links tugged against her compressed nipples, and she moaned. He pushed the chain into her mouth. “Take it,” he ordered.

She bit down obediently on the chain, her trembling more pronounced. His cock, if possible, got even harder. “Arch your hips. Spread your legs and offer yourself,” he commanded.

The chain still caught between her teeth, beautiful Eva did as she was told, and Jack stared, mesmerized by the petals of her small, perfect cunt. He drew a line along the curves of her labia and then thrust a finger inside her. She was sopping wet, as she should be.

Jack stared into her clear brown eyes, reading her desire, but he needed to hear her say it. He needed to hear her voice, which wove like a song through his dreams. He touched the chain, and she instantly understood. She parted her lips, letting the metal links fall away, coming to rest in a glint of silver between her breasts.

He held up the additional two pairs of clover clamps. Eva’s eyes widened with fear and desire. “Tell me,” he commanded. His cock throbbed, his head filled with sadistic fantasies that tonight, finally, he would make come true.

“Please, Sir,” Eva begged. “Please, Master Jack. Clamp my cunt, Sir. Let me suffer for you.”

“Offer yourself.”

Eva lifted her hips, thrusting her bare cunt forward, every particle of her being begging for what only he could give her.

His hands nearly shaking in his eagerness, Jack gripped one side of Eva’s pouty pussy, slick with her juices, and closed the first pair of clamps over the tender flesh, one above the other. Eva gave a long, anguished cry, but held her position, cunt offered for her Master. He clamped the other side with a second set. She cried out again, her breath quickening to a pant.

She whimpered in her erotic pain, the sound like music in Jack’s ears. “Please, Sir,” she gasped. “Oh, Jack, I want you. I’ve always wanted you. You are my true love, the man of my dreams, the Master of my soul.”

“Eva,” Jack whispered, tears springing to his eyes. “Oh, Eva, my darling, my beautiful girl. I will claim you for my own.”

“I am already yours, Sir,” Eva whispered, her gaze filled with love. “I’ve been yours since the moment I saw you.”

Shaking with suppressed need, his heart melting with tenderness, Jack touched the head of his cock to her opening. She arched upward once more, sucking him inside as he thrust forward, sinking into her tight, perfect heat.

His face was wet. It took a moment to realize he was crying, but he understood they were tears of joy. “Eva,” he whispered, her name filling the emptiness in his soul. “Eva, Eva, my darling. My true love.”

With a touch of his finger, the chains at her wrists fell away. The clamps on her breasts dissolved, revealing once more the erect buds of her nipples. Eva reached for him, sliding her hands around the back of his neck as she clung to him, his cock wrapped in the velvet grip with her cunt.

He thrust inside her, the pleasure nearly unbearable. As he neared orgasm, Eva began to scream.

At first it was exciting—a testament of her desire and her passion, but the screams became louder, more insistent, less about pleasure, more about pain, or was it fear, or was it just blind, naked terror—

Jack awoke with a jolt, his erect cock fisted in his hand, his heart pounding. A woman’s anguished, tortured cry yanked him to full consciousness. His erotic dream forgotten, Jack jumped up from the bed. He grabbed his pajama bottoms and pulled them hurriedly on. Sprinting from his room, he raced to comfort Eva.

~*~

She was tethered to the exam table in the dark, close room, her arms bound painfully behind her back, her head heavy and aching. Her knees were sharply bent, her legs forced wide apart by the chains and rope that held her. “Take it, you cunt,” Master Phillip snarled as he leaned over her. He forced the head of his cock against her closed lips. “Suck my dick or I’ll have to cut your pretty little pussy.” He pinched her labia, pulling them taut with his fingers. She felt the prick of the knife’s point on her delicate skin.

Fear suffocated her, and her mouth opened in a gasp. He slid his massive erection past her lips. She gagged against the invasive shaft. “You were too slow,” he announced, the point of the knife pricking the delicate tissue between her legs. “You must be punished.”

His cock filled her mouth, choking her as he rammed it toward the back of her throat. Stinging pain ripped through her sex and she gurgled a scream. Seized with blind terror, she bit down as hard as she could on his cock, her teeth breaking the skin.

Master Phillip yelled with rage and surprise. The bitter, metallic taste of his blood filled her mouth as he plunged the knife inside her and the world exploded in agony…

“Eva! Eva, wake up! Wake up, baby. It’s just a dream.”

Eva swam through the blood and darkness toward the lifeline of his voice. With a cry, she opened her eyes, her heart smashing wildly in her chest. “Oh! Oh, Jack,” she whimpered, trembling. “Oh, the knife, the knife! The blood.” Unable to help herself, her hand went down between her legs. Relief flooded through her to find she wasn’t cut and bloody. Still, the raw terror of the nightmare remained. “It was horrible. I—”