Lost Boy (The Lonely #2)

Lost Boy (The Lonely #2) Page 14

I shake my head and walk to the room again.

The inside of the room is large and too hot from the fireplace. It's a nice room, with rugs in the middle of several couches and chairs. I look down to the end of the room at the bed and I gulp.

The massive canopy is something from Jane's perverse games.

I sit down on the chair and pick up a book.

I don’t turn the page. I sit there, waiting and refusing to look back at the bed.

There is a knock at the door.

"Come in."

One of Jane's girls opens it. She nearly shoves my girl into the room and curtsies, leaving the room quickly.

My girl is wide-eyed and clutching the robe she is naked under.

I smile, "Go sit by the fire, warm up." I'm so nervous I forget to use my stupid accent. I can't stop staring at her legs or the way her hair is dripping down her body.

I hate that I like the fact she's nearly naked and it's our first time being in a room together in a long time. I remember why I'm here before I accidentally offer her tea, which I know she hates. I point at the fire, "Go." My tone is harsh.

She backs up, looking terrified.

"Go to the fire."

She backs up more and then around the furniture. She drops to her knees on the thick rug and sits back on her heels.

I watch her, panicking inside and trying not to just tell her who I am. I know she isn’t ready for that yet.

"Anything you want to talk about?" I ask.

She gets brave with her look, "He will come for me."

It makes me smile that she thinks I will save her. I nod, "I'm counting on it."

"Why?"

"We have business. Is it warm enough in here?" I don’t want to talk about me, the me she doesn’t know exists.

She looks like she comes to terms with that. She adjusts too easily to bad things.

"Are you from Australia?"

"No. But I didn’t want you getting your hopes up, if you recognized me. I'm good at accents." I quickly make something up. I sound like an idiot. Jane did that on purpose. I bet the stupid Australian thing never even came up in therapy, she just wanted me to look like an idiot.

"That’s why you asked me to dance in the bar?"

I shake my head, "I wanted to see if you were the mess the files said you were." That is almost true.

She looks like she knows how much of a mess she is, and still, the comment breaks her heart. She gives me a devastating smile, "Well?"

I don’t move until I remember the other thing Jane and I talked about privately, "I have a second offer."

She shivers, "No."

"You don’t want to hear it?"

She closes her eyes and shakes her head.

"I'd be willing to forgo the beating if you were nice to me."

She shakes her head harder.

"You'd rather be beaten? Am I so repulsive?" I don’t know how to feel about her hating me. "You would still rather have a beating, than have Stuart beaten?"

She nods and I die a little bit inside.

I stand and put a hand out, "Okay then."

She gives me the sweetest look I have ever seen. She bats her lashes and sticks her lip out. It melts me, but I know it's her survivor instincts. She's the best at it. That look isn’t for me, not really. "Those long lashes and pretty blue eyes won't work on me. Come here."

She hesitates, "I'm not coming with you. You're going to beat me either way."

I nod, "I am. But it will be much easier if you just come willingly."

She gets up slowly and comes to me. I don’t mean to do it, my body does it all on its own. She gets close and my hand stretches out to her.

Her eyes twitch and I know she senses something about it is familiar. She puts her hand in mine. I wrap my hand around hers and pull her slowly down to the back of the room.

She slows as we near the bed, "No. No. No. No. No. No."

I am about to grab her and drag her from the room, running with her over my shoulder to a motel where we could hide out, and I could try to explain. Instead, I turn and give her a fierce look, "It will be much worse if I have to drag you."

She lets out a sob but I push her onto the bed, "Remove the robe and scoot down to the bottom. Hang your feet down the end."

"What is your name?" she whispers, terrified.

"Does it matter?" I ask, hating that I have to give her my real name.

"Yes. I need a name to hate you properly."

My heart breaks, "Just call me Eli."

She dies inside a little as she lets the robe slip from her shoulders and climbs onto the bed.

I move her onto the bed better and strap her feet into place with the ankle boards. Her thighs are parted slightly. I attempt to avoid the view of her naked body.

She grips the bedding, trembling with nerves as I hook the toe straps in and force her feet to flex. Some people love getting their feet paddled, I don’t think she will be one of them.

I mutter, afraid of my own voice, "I don’t want to mar that skin. Not yet. I'm going to start the film now. Please feel free to be extra loud. It's better for the footage. At anytime, you can ask me to stop. Stuart will be punished then."

I grab the wooden bite and walk around to her face. I put the bite in but she spits it out right away. I lean in, whispering, "Unless you want to bite your tongue, I suggest you keep that in." She shakes her head, but I push it between her lips, "I will tie it on."

She moans and cries and I fight the fact I might accidentally enjoy this. The bite in her lips and ties on her body are making me uncomfortable, in a good way. I walk back to the end of the bed, pick up the paddle and take a breath.

Instantly, my mind is transported to a bad place. Seeing her tied and gagged and spread for me has me breathing heavily. Fuck Jane. She did this on purpose. I know she is watching to see if I let her off with a few whacks or just end up losing my self-control altogether.

I don’t.

I enjoy paddling things like feet, a lot, but I maintain my composure.

I look at those beautiful runner's feet and take my first swing. The crack of the paddle against her skin and cry that leaves her gagged mouth, make me instantly hard.

I hate myself but I hit her again and fucking love it.

She screams and cries, but I can see what it's doing to her body. Her cries become moans and her slit dampens. Her pussy lips spread slightly.

Fuck.

I hit her again. She doesn’t know she likes it. She's traumatized. I hit her again. I should be stopping, or lessening, but I can see she can take it. She tenses, expecting the next hit but I don’t deliver. She squirms slightly, still in a daze from the agony.

I wait until she is exhaling the tension and deliver the hardest one. She cries out and I orgasm.

I hate myself. I drop the paddle and leave her unconscious body on the bed, tied and exposed. I leave her, like I did to Stuart.

Chapter Twelve

December 29th

Stuart hobbles out onto the rooftop. His face is swollen and his ankle appears sore. I grimace, "What happened?"

He shakes his head, "Got hit by a damned truck on the way over to get a sandwich. Hands are all cut up. I couldn’t see out of the eye that was swollen still from the fight and stepped off the curb. Needed a sandwich and some fresh air."

I wince, "You alright?"

He shakes his head, "No. Got a couple more broken ribs and shit. I am out. Dr. Bradley wants me gone, says I pushed it too far and now this. She is setting up a germ water thing. That asshole Mike is doing the water torture. Next feeding time they want me to talk to her."

I look down, "I think this is a mistake." I don't want Mike to see her like being dominated. I'm hoping Jane missed it.

"She seems like she's in good spirits."

I roll my eyes, "She is a master of finding coping mechanisms."

"I gotta go back, it's time for me to talk to her through the hole."

I wince, "So water torture is happening after that then?"

He nods, "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

I shake my head and my words are low, nearly a whisper, "Nothing about this is okay. I'll be the one torturing her though. I'm the one who started this." I let him lean on me and lead him back to his cell. He's silent as he slips back into the spot where the hole is. I know that hole too well. The little girl who was kept during my breaking was in that room. I shudder and feel it all for a second.

I walk into the room with the monitors. Jane gives me a satisfied smile. I feel my lip twitch with the sneer it wants to give her, but I don’t. I focus on the reason I exist. My girl is laughing to herself in the cell. She has lost it. I think she's ready. Seeing her that way, confirms it for me.

On the monitor, Stuart slides closer to the hole with his face and whispers, "Em." I hear a whisper. She doesn’t move. She ignores him. He whispers again, "Em. Did they hurt you?"

She must have heard it. She moves her head around, confused maybe.

"Em. Over here." He waves his hand through the hole, not that it matters. She can't see him. She can hear him only. We can only see with the night vision cameras.

"It's me dude. Stu." His voice is less of a whisper.

She moves in his direction, dragging her injured body. It makes me sick for a moment, and then I remember the glisten of wetness, and the fact I had to change my pants.

"Where are you?" she calls into the darkness, totally lost.

His hand reaches into her cell, brushing against her. I see her respond nervously for a moment and then grip to him, like she did me once. I hate that he's touching her, soothing her.

"Where's your phone, Em?" Stuart whispers.

She shakes her head, "I put it down in a parking lot. Are you okay? Are you badly hurt?"

He shakes his head "They said they want your phone. They need to reach him."

She sits silent for a second. I smirk as she shakes her head, "That doesn’t make any sense. The man with the faux hawk—his name is Eli. Before he caught me, I texted for help. I think my text went to Eli, like the guy holding us hostage is your boss. I sent it and then heard it deliver at the same moment, to his phone when he was chasing me. I think your boss is Eli."