It was kind of frustrating not to be able to tell anyone how brilliant he’d been in pulling this whole thing off. Because of his meticulous planning, excellent acting skills and a hefty dose of good luck, he’d successfully abducted a woman and spirited her out of the country, with no one the wiser.
All the experimentation online and at the various BDSM and fetish clubs he’d frequented over the years had been leading up to this. No matter how intense the scene, he was always left wanting more—far more. He’d been upfront at first, clearly outlining his elaborate control fantasies in the various profiles he’d created online, and seeking women who actually wanted to experience that fantasy brought to life.
But it had never panned out, not to his satisfaction. He wasn’t interested in games. He wanted the real thing. He’d come to understand that there wasn’t actually a woman out there who really desired what she said she did, at least not when it came to sexual fantasies.
Girls, even the ones who claimed to share his fantasy of being abducted and exposed to all sorts of delicious, diabolical torture, always ruined things in the end by bailing just when the fun was getting started. All that thrashing and crying was so annoying. Always careful, he’d never told the girls his full name, or allowed them anywhere near his home. Still, the occasional threats to press charges were an inconvenience that could have become more problematic if he hadn’t had the cash to throw at them to get them to shut the fuck up and just disappear.
But now—with Callie—he wouldn’t have to worry about any of those stupid constraints. If her squeals got annoying, he’d just gag the bitch. If she misbehaved, he’d stick her back in the basement until she saw the error of her ways.
He could do just exactly what he wanted with this girl. She was his possession—his new toy—until he tired of her.
He pulled his hand from his shorts when she started to whimper. Her eyes were still closed, but her eyelids were flickering with movement, and she was twitching in her restraints.
“Callie?” he asked softly, moving closer. “Open your eyes.”
She obliged, her gaze at first unfocused as she tried to lift her head. “Wha…?” she said stupidly, a bit of drool escaping her slack mouth. To be fair, he’d given her quite a bit more than the recommended dosage of the knockout drugs over the past twelve hours. It would take a while before it all left her system. “Thirsty,” she croaked.
Damon went over to the sink and filled a plastic cup he’d left there earlier. He brought it to her cot and pulled up a nearby stool. Sitting close to the cot, he lifted her head with one hand and tilted the cup to her lips with the other. He felt an almost paternal rush of affection for the girl as she sipped at the water, as helpless in her restraints as a baby bird.
When she seemed to have had enough, he let her head fall back and set the cup on the concrete floor. “Feeling a little better?” he asked solicitously.
She met his eyes. “Please, Damon,” she said, her voice still hoarse but her gaze more focused. “What’s happening? Why do I feel so woozy? Why am I tied down to this bed? Where are my clothes? Where are we?” Her voice started to rise with what he could see was barely suppressed panic. “Why are you doing this? Where’s Diana?”
“Shh,” he soothed, stroking a strand of hair from her cheek. Her skin was so soft. “As I said before, everything will be made clear in time. Right now, all you need to know is that you’re with me. I’m going to make all your dirty little fantasies come true.”
Her eyes widened with fear. “Please, I don’t understand.” She yanked at her restraints, her hands clenching into fists. “Let me up. Take me home. I don’t want to be here. Whatever you thought I was agreeing to, you’re completely and totally wrong.” She looked around the basement, her expression wild. “Where’s Diana?” she repeated. “Does she know what you’ve done? How can you possibly think you’ll get away with this—with whatever this is you’re doing?”
Damon smiled, again reaching out to stroke her soft cheek. She jerked her head away, and he let that pass—for now. He would soon teach her proper manners. “There is no Diana, silly girl. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
She swung her head back to face him, confusion and alarm in her expression. “What are you talking about? I was texting with her all week. I talked to her on the phone! There is definitely a Diana.”
Damon shook his head, marveling at this girl’s naiveté and stupidity. “Haven’t you ever heard of a voice changer?” As Callie continued to look blank, he elaborated, “It’s a device or an app that uses digital signal processing to change your voice in a variety of ways. Glad to know I fooled you so thoroughly.”