Captive (Social Experiments #1) (7 page)

“Hold on. I’ll remove the gag and let you out. Takes a while for the Ketamine to really wear off so… don’t try to run,” I warned.

I helped her from the sturdy metal cage and caught an elbow to the ribs. Good thing I saw it coming from a mile away. Her befuddled state diminished the sting, but she tried to run for it and dodge me by sprinting to the side. She crashed to the ground on the third stride.

“Didn’t I warn you? You don’t even know where you are. Christ,” I muttered, shaking my head. Her cries remained incoherent.

I was afraid to test the privacy of the sublevel, but it had to be done. If I was going to hell for what I planned to do, it had to be now or later. I unbuckled the ball-gag and removed it from her mouth.

“Help,” Yvonne croaked. “Help. Somebody... help me.” Her hoarse cries likely couldn’t have penetrated a normal room’s ceiling, let alone traveled to any individuals capable of saving her.

I sighed and crouched down beside her. “Scream all you want. We’re in the sublevel beneath the basement, Yvonne. Nobody knows about it.”

Yvonne rolled over and groaned. “What did… what did you… do to me? Everything... spinning.” The Ketamine kept her nice and placid, too dazed to put up a fight or true argument with me. Perfect.

“Lie there for a while alright? I gave you a small dose of a drug called Ketamine. It’s going to make your vision blurry for a little while. Keep you off balance. Help you relax and chill out, okay?”

“Let me go... just please… please lemme go, Jake. I wanna go to bed.”

“It’s a little too late for that now, Yvonne. Or didn’t you notice?”

“Is this about…” Her words slurred into an unintelligible jumble of sounds and her eyes crossed. I waited until they focused on my face again. “The rent? I’ll get you the rest, I promise.”

“Your dad paid your rent for three months after you stormed away like an ungrateful brat. This isn’t about the money. The money was never the problem. It’s you. You treat the rest of us like we’re staff and we owe something to you.”

“Huh? I…” She blinked blearily up at me. “I cook for you. I made you lunch.”

“You cook when you want something. When you feel guilty. And then you waltzed out and expected me to clean up the disaster you left behind.”

Yvonne sputtered.

“Sometimes I have to wonder if you care about anyone but yourself. But you do. I know you do. I like listening to your talks about the NICU. Listening to your stories about working at the nursing home… hell, you stood up for me in high school when douchebags like Greg picked on me for my weight.”

A single tear escaped to slide down her cheek. I brushed it away tenderly and waited for the gravity of my words to sink in. Yvonne could deny it, but eventually she’d have to accept the cold truth.

“Please let me go,” she whispered again. “I’ll pour that brandy we’ve been saving. We can sit and talk about it.”

Her proposal nearly charmed me, providing a tempting alternative to the destructive project I planned to set in motion. Could I trust her to keep her word? My gut instinct told me no. “I’m finished with talking,” I told her quietly. “This is your new home. However long you’re here depends on you.”

Yvonne shuddered and rolled to her back on the hard floor. Eventually I planned to bring some thicker rugs in to lay over the utility carpet. For now though, this would have to do.

“What are you going to do to me?”

“I’m going to teach you.”

I distrusted her too much to unbind her wrists. The soft, fur-lined manacles remained in place, but I ripped her shorts down her thighs while she squirmed against the ground. She didn’t wear panties to bed. I never knew it until now. My mouth became sandpaper dry, and my heart leapt in my chest. Her silky smooth snatch and red-painted nails told me she’d recently visited the spa. I loved it when a girl waxed.

“Jake... What are you doing?”

“You wanted this before. I know you did. I made you wet, but you couldn’t bear the thought of fucking me instead of that prick Greg.”

I popped the thin spaghetti strap of her camisole and bared one breast to my rough handling. Squeezing her, kneading her tit in my hand, and even pinching her nipple while she lay beneath me powerless. Her feeble attempt to bat at my hands lacked coordination, and for the first time in all of the years I’d known Yvonne, I was finally the one with the power. I savored it and dipped my head down to claim her nipple between my teeth, grating the edge over sensitive skin until she moaned hoarsely again.

I was satisfied and absolutely positive the subterranean layout provided complete privacy.

“Why?”

Like her, I slept in the bare minimum each night. I tugged my boxers down with ease and untangled them from my legs with a few kicks. Freeing my dick, I gripped it in one hand and slapped the heavy length against her leg, letting her feel the hard erection stirred by her body.

“Look at how hard you made me. You did that, Yvie. Happens every time I see you. Always has… Goddammit, why won’t you admit that you wanted me too?”

“Not like this…”

I ripped the remaining shreds of her top away along with her dignity. I had to destroy that too if I intended to rebuild her and give new purpose to her life. I had 25 years of spoiling and coddling to unravel before I created my work of art.

Convincing myself that my intentions were comparable to razing a shack and erecting a palace in its place, I forced my body between her thighs and slipped two fingers against her dry snatch. I’d made her wet once, and I could do it again. One day, she’d beg for me to take her.

“Jake, please...”

“You didn’t give me a choice, Yvonne.”

I came prepared. Despite my selfish intentions, my only true desire was to enjoy the simple pleasures of her body and grant her ecstasy in return. Causing her unnecessary pain wasn’t part of that plan. I picked up the bottle of lubricant tucked into the open toolbox and drizzled a generous amount against her bare folds. She struggled to clasp her legs together, but I easily overpowered her and slid two fingers into her body. Yvonne flinched and recoiled from me.

“I don’t... I don’t want this...” she slurred feebly.

I overcame her attempt to elude my fingers with ease. I invaded her swiftly, pumped, and found a slick rhythm aided by the lubricant. I had a wet hole to fuck, but she was no more receptive than she’d been minutes before.

Yvonne grunted and thrashed weakly beneath me, her mind and reflexes clouded by the drug. “You’re my friend!”

“I’m doing this because I’m your friend,” I snarled back at her. My hard cock bounced with my movements until my weight and greater strength forced her back against the cool floor.

“Nnn… no...” she mumbled out one final time as I speared her. I greedily claimed her in a swift thrust until my dick throbbed in her tight clench. Our bodies ground close and flush, her smaller frame twisting and pushing up from the floor. Her back arched as she groaned a low, primal noise of defeat, acceptance, maybe even lust. I could no longer tell her body’s natural reactions from the liquid used to ease our lovemaking. All of that ceased to matter when the inviting grasp cradled my cock so perfectly. My fondest fantasies didn’t compare.

My lips lowered to her bared breast and teased the pink areola with my tongue. The nipple budded tightly in response. She had a perfect pair, full and plump beneath my fingers. Each thrust shook them and made them quiver atop her petite frame, further inciting my appetite. I could have fucked her all night. I wanted to. Longing had driven me wild with hunger until I became absolutely desperate to outperform Greg’s memory.

Yvonne sobbed low. She lay quiet and doll-like beneath me. Her struggles ceased but the weeping continued, broken by occasional moans. I interpreted it as pain, so the pace slowed until my pistoning strokes claimed her body with sensual tempo. I couldn’t allow my enthusiasm to hurt her.

I dragged my lips from her tit to her throat, pausing to place a tender kiss against her collarbone. She turned her face from me and closed her eyes, whimpering in distress. I didn’t want her to whine like a beaten dog; I craved the sound of impassioned moans. “I don’t want to hurt you, Yvonne,” I breathed against her ear.

“Then stop,” she whispered.

I couldn’t. I drove into her again until our pelvises touched, slapping my balls beneath her entrance. Whether I took her slow and gentle or hard and fast, Yvonne’s body yielded the same indifferent response. I groaned and turned my face against her throat, kissing the girl’s sweet skin, inhaling her, breathing her in and making her mine. A few times she panted and moaned soft, appreciative sounds, but they were quickly replaced by her quiet sobs. I pumped frantically, practically grinding against her as my balls tightened, heralding the hot flood of semen that came next. Her name was the only word worth saying.

Yvonne bowed beneath my greater weight and raised her hips in a futile effort to dislodge me, but I continued to pump in her shamelessly, choking down the guilt. Like Greg, I failed to make her come, and it was a sensation I wanted most of all. To prove that I was the better choice and superior in every way.

Damned drugs. I made the decision then and there to never use them on her again.

I couldn’t bring myself to dismount from her immediately, as if she were livestock or a tool to be used. I laid atop her for a time, kissing her face, stroking her hair, drying the tears from her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” I murmured against her temple. Yvonne didn’t respond.

Eventually, I did crawl from atop her warm body. I even fetched a blanket and draped it over her from the shoulders down, concealing her nude form. It was a crime to hide curves that perfect, but she’d earned a reprieve.

“Are you going to kill me?” she asked from the same spot, her body an unmoving shape on the floor beneath the second-hand afghan.

“What? No!” I blurted out swiftly. “I told you, didn’t I? God… I don’t want to hurt you, baby. But I had to do this. To help you.” If I lost my convictions now, all was doomed and this would be for nothing.

Yvonne’s fingers toyed with the frayed edge of the blanket. She hid beneath the yellow and pink knitted yarn, but its pattern revealed patches of her body between the stitches. Her attempt to retain modesty amused and thrilled me. I’d seen it all, felt it all, and tasted her skin already, but I had the power to I grant her that small measure of comfort by permitting the blanket.

“Take this one too,” I offered kindly, plucking up a thicker blanket and extending it toward her. She tilted her confused face up to me. “Surprised I’m being nice to you?” I asked.

“You
raped
me.”

“I taught you a lesson,” I corrected her. I smoothed my fingers through her disheveled brown hair and tucked a few strands behind her ear. “Instructed you.”

“You hurt me,” she whispered brokenly.

“I didn’t try to hurt you.” I had to convince myself of this truth as much as I needed to convince her. I’d never hurt Yvonne. Even now, even as I embarked on an irreversible path and dragged her along for the ride, I held fast to my decision to cause no unnecessary harm. I wasn’t Greg.

“Whatever…” She turned her head away from me and coughed into her hand.

“Do you want something to drink? Your voice is hoarse,” I pointed out. I returned to business, alienating myself from guilty emotion as much as possible. I needed to exude confidence in my art. I needed to feel it in my soul and know I did the right thing. Eventually, Yvonne would know it, too

“Yes,” Yvonne rasped.

Aside from multiple jugs of water in the sublevel, I also kept a mini-fridge and a microwave in the upper basement to quickly nuke easily prepared food items. Her father’s money footed the bill for the other recent basement acquisitions. It seemed fitting since it had become her new home, and he’d given it as her rent.

“If Greg were here-”

“Greg deserted you,” I interrupted, harsher than I meant to. Shaking my head, I lowered my voice. “He’s not coming back. But I
am
here, and I’ve always been here for you. You better start accepting that.”

I crossed the room to fetch the gallon of water. After she got down a few gulps, I guided her to the corner of the chamber where the bare pipes hung from the ceiling. It was ugly, quick work, but a job capable of providing the fresh water she would need to shower.

In the past, I’d always imagined her beneath the shower head, suds and soapy bubbles caressing her lithe form. The picture in my head was more sensual than the reality of a drugged woman on her hands and knees, weeping under the lukewarm water. I had to help her wash, which didn’t bring the enjoyment I expected. Not when she cringed away from me and loathed every second. Not when she hated me.

That would all change.

After I towel dried Yvonne’s body and hair, I placed her in the dog kennel again. I permitted her the safety of a single blanket, which she wrapped around her body.

“Get some rest, Yvonne. I’ll be back in a few hours to feed you.” By then, the anesthetic would be out of her system.

My plan began with a text message from Yvonne to my personal cell phone, informing me that she needed a break from Boston. She wanted to get away and to make the pain stop. I made it suitably melodramatic and let the missive span five text messages. I ended it with a warning to give me space, then I deactivated the phone and took out the battery.