I felt the firmness of his abs as he walked.
My eyes watered a bit, adjusting to the bright light again, honing in on the chain to see just how far it extended beyond the cell.
I was sat directly on the folding chair, caddy-corner from the hellish monstrosity with the straps attached to it. My stomach turned to stone just knowing it was in the same room as me.
“I shouldn’t have left you like that yesterday,” J began.
Yesterday? Had it really been a full day?
What he did to me felt like a dream, something I could have pretended had never happened if it weren’t for the throbbing between my legs and the ache in my shoulders.
“I had some things to do for work, and then a dinner I couldn’t miss with the family.”
Why was he telling me this?
It was only when I took a second to really look at him that I realized he was wearing a dark pair of slacks, and a blue button-down was folded on top of the dog cage.
I assumed he was still in the same outfit he wore the previous night…Or maybe this was how he always dressed.
Maybe for work?
I knew nothing about him, but I had to conclude that if he had a family and a job with co-workers, then this side of him was well hidden.
I wasn’t quite sure how one went about obscuring such a screwed up hobby. Where I was being kept had to play a big role in that.
Glancing towards the stairs, I saw a simple wooden door right at the top.
Freedom was through there.
I wanted nothing more than to run away, but I knew I’d never make it.
I could barely swat a fly in my current state, let alone take on J once he came after me, and I was positive he would.
Bide your time, I thought to myself.
If I was going to try and escape—no, when I made my move to escape, I had to do it the right way. I knew I’d only get one chance, and I couldn’t mess it up.
Looking back to J, I watched him fill something inside the sink, attempting to see what was inside the few store bags beside him.
“How do you know so much about me?” I forced myself to ask, my raspy voice sounding foreign to my ears.
He cut the sink off and came back to me with one of the bags and a round wash basin in his hands, setting both down on the floor.
“That’s a loaded question,” he replied, pulling a sponge and bottle of body-wash out.
He dipped a corner of the sponge into the basin, and lifted it to my face.
“You didn’t flinch,” he noted, gently blotting my skin.
“I’m not scared of you right now,” I replied, surprising myself with my answer. It was true. I wanted to cut his cock off and shove it down his throat until he choked on it, but I wasn’t fearful.
He lifted my chin with two fingers and stared down at me, his silver eyes seemingly searching for something in mine.
“I don’t want you to be afraid of me, Harper,” he said finally, using the sponge to stroke my sore cheek gently.
“I usually only keep a girl around for three or four months. By then, I’ve had her pussy and ass so much it’s not fresh anymore. I think I want to keep you indefinitely. I’m not sure yet; we’ll see.”
I decided the best response was none at all. Otherwise, I’d spit in his face.
I sat still and let him continue my sponge bath, beginning to shiver from the low temperature in the basement.
It took self-control I never knew I had to willingly let him put his hands on me. He washed beneath my breasts, between my legs, lingering there longer than necessary before running the sponge up and down my back.
The entire time, I was forced to breathe in his scent: citrusy fresh peppermint.
“I saw you when I stopped at the station a few months ago. You were leaning against the hood of your car, talking to someone on the phone. You never saw me. The moment I discovered your existence, I knew you were meant to be mine.”
He stepped back, dropping the sponge in the basin, and went to dump it in the sink.
When he returned, there was a brush in his hand. He stood behind me and began to run the bristles through my knotted hair gently.
“I know you’re probably wondering why I’m doing this. More than likely you’ve thought I’m planning to kill you. Usually, I would tell you outright how I was planning to do it.
“I’ve been doing this for so long, I don’t feel the need to sugarcoat the situation anymore. But if it makes you feel better, I don’t want to kill you, Harper. You’re not going to be like any of the others.”