Yield (25 page)

He’d done it again. Turned me the fuck on. I
was
a slut.

“Open your legs some more. Tell me you want to get fucked by this stranger. A man who’s going to split you open with his dick, to come on you, in you, to make you scream, even though all the other men at the party will hear you being screwed and know you’re ready for them, if they choose to walk in on us. They’ll all hold you down and make you suck them off. Make you turn over and let them ream your ass. While another fucks your mouth.”

Oh god.
My head would explode soon. I shouldn’t
like
this.

He stood over me and unzipped his pants, pulled out his cock, then stroked his hand up and down the shaft.

Rapt by his words and actions, I watched him and thirsted for his next words.

“Beg me, slut, so I can get this done then invite the others in to rape you as well.”

How
dare
he? This was sick, demeaning, and I
was possibly going to come from his dirty talk alone. My heart did overtime, hammering away at me.

I couldn’t. Shouldn’t.

I wriggled my butt, conflicted, and then...I let my thighs fall open.

He still didn’t touch me, only watched as my legs parted, stretching my panties. He waited until I’d stopped moving, then observed me leisurely, as if I were a done deal, something assured. His piece of pussy for the night.

“Beg me. Put your hands down here and hold open that naughty little cunt so I can see a hole to aim at. Beg me or you get nothing.” He leaned over me. “Beg or I’ll call in all those men who will fuck you so hard you’ll bleed and have cum all over you, be spilling it from your nose, your cunt, your little asshole – any hole they can find.

He’d made that up...and it spoke directly to my perverted soul.

I gulped. I shook from the tension. I loved this. My clit throbbed, ached, and I needed him in me so badly. My pussy entrance felt as if it had cracked open, gaping, inviting him in.

The man had a thing for rape and corruption.

And I?

I was an innocent and such a whore. I was everything he said to me. Everything.

For the first time in my life, I embraced my sexuality, my every dirty corner and hole, every part of my femaleness, my fecundity. This was what people did. They fucked, they procreated, they exchanged cum and fluids, and all to the glorious accompaniment of screams and weeping and roars of male dominance, of flailing limbs and pumping cocks and wet, engorged pussies.

But, I still I couldn’t say this.

My brow furrowed and I squirmed under his looming presence. This wasn’t my fault. The last dam inside me broke.

“Please?”

“What? I can’t hear you. Louder.”

“Please.” The words didn’t want to leave my throat. Saying more would kill me.

“What. Do you. Want?”

I sighed out a mountain of angst.
You bastard.
Where had this dirty pervert inside me come from?

“I want...” I paused, terribly humiliated, fidgeting. “I want your cock in me.”

“Then show me where you want it.”

No. I couldn’t. But I would. I had to. He made me. I angled up my pelvis and put my fingers around my butt to reach in and hold myself open for him to see me in the most intimate way.

“Of course you want it there. Sluts always want cock.”

Not me. I closed my eyes.

“Open your fucking eyes.”

Scared, I snapped them open.

Without touching the rest of me, he placed his cock at my slippery entrance and stuck it into me, just as he’d said, sliding in all the way, with ease. Like a man doing a whore.

I groaned at the penetration.

“Take your hands away,” he snarled. “Put them above your head and don’t move a fucking inch.”

Then he simply used me. He fucked me hard, made me immerse myself in all the awesome feelings of just being fucked. I was shoved across the bed as he banged me and I ended up moaning, my head upside down, as he came, my arms and hair dangling down.

Upside down, half hanging off the edge, struggling to breathe, annihilated.

I hurt. He’d bruised me with the pounding of his hard male body against my softest parts. I had finger marks on my hips from where he’d gripped me for the last flurry of thrusts, and all I wanted to do was lie there, eyes shut, my eyelids twitching, remembering exactly what had happened and how I’d been his thing to fuck. I replayed it in my mind, as if it was the best thing ever.

Which it had been.

He slid up the bed, turning my worn-out body over so he could spoon into me, then muttered, “You pleased me. Now you have to lie there and be fucked by the ten men lined up outside the door.”

When I only whimpered, he laughed and bit the side of my neck.

“Such a good, good girl.”

I slept in the cage under the bed from then on. It was comfortable and let him pull me from it easily if in the middle of the night he wanted to fuck me. Sometimes, I even wanted him to.

Weeks went by, and more weeks.

What was Glass doing? Hugh? They hadn’t found me. It seemed they never would. Maybe I was forgotten, declared missing, presumed dead. It happened. I wasn’t sure of the official time but perhaps it was after a year that it would become a legal fact and people could pretend I was gone forever.

I was history, almost. A lost person. I was his. I was becoming accustomed to that. Unless, I found some answer, some completely unknown, impossible answer. I could’ve managed to kill myself, I guess, if determined enough, but that wasn’t me.

To be honest, he had me thoroughly entangled in his web. Most days, he fucked me or made me come, or punished me...

I squeezed my eyes shut, remembering those times, feeling again what he’d made me feel, and I grew aroused and wet. My reaction wasn’t something I could say wasn’t there, it was me, and that was the crux of my problem. I was trapped here and I feared I’d lost sight of the way out.

Glass

Months had passed since the night she went missing. Too much time for me to stay near where she’d vanished. Though it’d been a terrible decision to make, I’d left and gone back to Port Moresby, but now I was back.

I’d wracked my brains and looked for loose ends. Vetrov must make mistakes. I’d tried to track down the men we’d killed at the House where Wren’s father had died. What a shithole den of sex and torture that place had been. They’d all been local men, or foreigners based in Papua New Guinea. I’d asked every man I knew who might know anything at all about a man like Vetrov. I’d ended up exchanging info in alleyways with assholes I’d not trust to not feed me to a wood chipper if I annoyed them, along with my dog and my children, if I had any. Nothing. All kinds of nothing.

Hugh wasn’t even on the job anymore. The trust had pulled him off security.

I braced my arms on the window and looked out at the night, at a street full of run-down apartments in the old south end of the town, somewhere where no one cared if a stranger arrived with a mean attitude and a habit of hiding his face. The cops had mostly given up looking anyway.

I wouldn’t. I crunched my fingers into the ancient paintwork, felt flakes of the paint turn to powder or cut away under my nails.

“Wren.”

Just saying her name brought heart-ache. I couldn’t even go out on the rocks to fish anymore, and that was something that used to bring me peace. The last time I tried, I’d thought she was with me and turned to say something, only to remember she was gone.

I could feel her absence, see those glossy red lips of hers that day we met and the flick of her dark-as-sin hair.

Girl...where are you?

I wasn’t sure why she’d affected me so. I mean...I’d had girlfriends who’d lasted longer. Maybe it was just the way she’d disappeared, or the man I thought had her? No, it wasn’t that, I knew it. I loved her and if she was still alive, I held onto hope. If she was still alive, maybe one day I could hold her again.

I looked up above the streetlight at the dark sky and prayed to the stars.

Wren

It became my routine, to be used as his toy, until the day he introduced something new.

I’d been past the big room so many times, and looked longingly out to the sea and blueness, or even to the dark gray clouds of storms, and this day, he led me in.

“Come.” He unclipped the leash and gestured. “We can lie on the sofa next to the viewing window. I’ve decided you’ve progressed enough to be allowed this.”

Watching him from the corner of my eyes, I crept forward, taking small steps. I’d been restricted to such a small part of the house for so many weeks that this was...I drew in a breath and looked around...like a dream.

When he sat on the sofa, I was still unsure, so I kneeled at his feet. Though I’d done this a hundred times, I knew how wrong this was, kneeling to him, but I accepted it was my lot, for the moment. It was my life, for the moment. When that moment would end, I didn’t know. I was waiting, in limbo, and in limbo, it was fine to be his obedient creature.

I survived.

“Up here.”

He patted the sofa cushion and I crawled up there and nestled beside him, with my head on his chest. I’d been there before, with my head on him in that convenient place on men’s chests that seemed made for snuggling. It was somewhere safe, I’d found, as long as I behaved.

“Now.” He kissed my hair. “Thank you. You’re pretty in that dress.”

I looked down my body, seeing the length of ivory material and my legs stretched beside his legs further down. It was a beautiful garment. Simple, perhaps Indonesian style, with fine embroidery on the bodice. I wore no underwear, but this was still far more than he gave me to wear most days.

“I thought I’d let you begin to read again.”

Really? I made myself not look up at him. Reading was something I loved. It had always been my relaxation, my fantasy world, and my way of escape if the real world became too stressful.

On the coffee table beside the sofa, there were stacks of books. Greedily I perused the spines, reading the titles.

“Pick one.”

My heart thumped harder. How silly, to get excited over a book or two, something that should be my right. How pitiful that I was reduced to this.

I sat up and pretended to have to think but I knew which one. It was a book I’d often thought of reading but had never felt as if I could devote enough of myself to. It was a book that needed to be consumed over many wonderful days of reading. I had time for it now.

I slid the book from beneath the pile and drew it to me, cracked it open, praying he wouldn’t interrupt. He pulled me a little higher up his body and peeked over my shoulder.

“
War and Peace
? That’s the last book I would’ve thought you’d choose.”

“Why?”

Oops.
I waited for a reprimand.

“Good question. I know you were studying at university. It’s just a monstrosity of a book. I grabbed a whole lot of different ones from my library. Never read it myself.”

Were.
A small pain started in my chest.
Were studying.
The past tense. I hated him for all of five seconds.

War and Peace
. Forget him, even if he made a good pillow. I smiled and began to read, only to recall that nearby was that view of the sky and ocean I’d yearned to see for so long. I glanced across and at the first sight of blueness through the glass, I found myself inhaling – peace. My mind floated. Waves, wind, the sea on the horizon, it was like the fresh smell of storm-wet air.

But it couldn’t feed my mind. How I needed words, stories, something to make me think.

Dreams
, I needed those.

I turned back to the book.

Again I read the first words. I closed my eyes. He could punish me, but I needed to know.

“Why?” I asked him. “Why now?”

“Why now what?” The only sign of displeasure was a tug at my nape hair.

Do it.
“I thought you meant to dispose of me. Why let me read?”

“Why would you think that?”

“The others. That stranger who was here. He mentioned other girls. They’re not here now so...” My throat seized up.

“You think I killed them?”

“Or sold them off.” His shirt shifted under my ear and I listened to the
lub-dub
beat of his heart. Not speeding up – that had to be good?

“No. You’re the only girl I’ve had brought here. There’s been no one else, Wren. No one...”

What was he thinking? I peeked at him and found he was looking at me, almost sadly. For the first time in weeks, I didn’t feel the need to duck away.

“I’m not sorry I have you here. Don’t think that. From now on, if you’re good, I’ll reward you with things like this.”

Things that should be mine anyway. Tears threatened. The book was safer. I looked down at it. “Okay. Thank you, Sir.”

I’d remembered to say it, this time. Now...
Chapter 1

“Well, Prince, Genoa, and Lucca are now nothing –”

“Can I read it too, love?”

I jolted.

He’d asked me permission. Said,
love
? Had he changed into someone else overnight? But no, he’d spanked me this morning for some minor infraction, presumably because he just wanted to. When the sadistic urge overcame him, his face looked
hungry
.

A thrill had unraveled then, waking me. What we had wasn’t simply a predator and prey interaction, it was more, much more. Prey was not supposed to like what happened when the wolf consumed them.

“Sure.” I let him help me hold up the heavy volume so we could both see the page. This was odd, yet promising, in some way. I was a human being to him, not just a fuck toy, as he sometimes called me. This felt like that day he first allowed me out to swim in the sunlight, and look how that had turned out.

How did I even know he told the truth about there being no other girls?

I don’t.

I never will.

I couldn’t trust him. I needed to remember that.

From then on, each day brought some new present, because I wasn’t stupid. I responded to his reward and punishment scheme well. Defying him brought the bad things. Being good brought me presents.