Enchained (3 page)

As he slept throughout the morning, she had paced the city up and down. On the third day, she had discovered what French breakfast was all about. Sitting outside a nice café, sunshine on her face, newspaper in hand, hot coffee in a large mug, crispy croissants on a white side plate, she had spent the most enjoyable times of her stay. Even better than having a bit of rumpy-pumpy with her French artistic lover.

The masked man set her free, allowing her to stretch her limbs at leisure and to sit on the edge of the bed. As he turned sideways to pick up the tray, she didn’t miss her opening. She bolted for the door. Heart thumping, ears ringing, she rushed for the rectangle that represented freedom.

She didn’t make it to the door, not by a million miles. So close, so out of her reach. Two iron-like arms grabbed her middle. Then she was floating, carried back, thrown onto the bed. She landed on her back, the thick mattress cushioning the blow. Lying flat, a little breathless, she shot him a furious look. Standing up by the bed, he looked tall, powerful, invincible.

The plain white mask moved twice from right to left. His gaze never leaving her face, he grabbed a rope and tossed it to her.

All right, big guy, I get you. Either I eat breakfast like a good girl, or you’re tying me up again. My call.

Jany sat on the edge of the bed and waited for him to place the tray on her knees. Although a small knife was at her disposal, she knew better than to attempt anything rash and impulsive again. Instead, she used it to spread butter and marmalade. When she bit into a warm-from-the-oven croissant, images of Paris at the height of summer swirled around her mind.

“You made this?” Pastry in hand, an orgasmic mouthful sliding down her throat, her eyes opened wide. “I’ve never had such a good croissant since I went to Paris. This is outstanding.”

He didn’t answer, but she fancied she saw him tense. Last night’s dinner had been delicious; this morning’s breakfast was excellent. Once more, Jany was touched by the way he treated her. If she didn’t look at the chains hanging from the ceiling, she might even feel like some kind of honored guest.

Come on, girl, you’ve never been a guest. You’re a prisoner, that’s all there is to it. Don’t get all sappy because he reminded you of good times. Next thing you know, you’re gonna trust him. That would be a huge mistake.

Two croissants sated her hunger, yet she ate a third because she couldn’t let go of the wonderful taste. As she finished the pastry, he reached out to her. In a casual manner, he bent over to flick a crumb from her cleavage with his gloved finger. As light and brief as his touch felt, she froze.

Her blood seemed to be stricken by Saint Vitus dance, her guts constricting without her permission, her nipples stiffening, extending toward the retreating hand. Rooted to the spot, breath caught in her throat, her instincts shouted something she wasn’t ready to acknowledge. To her utter dismay, undesired warmth moistened her pussy.

Chapter Five

Hang on, this is ridiculous. This is unbelievable. I can’t be turned on by a nutcase who’s keeping me locked up in his basement. Is he aware of it? Does he know I want him to jump me right now? Tie me to that bed and do me. Yeah, I bet he does. Dear God, what’s going on? I’m in deep shit here. Someone help me, please.

Nobody would. She was on her own; she had to make do with it. Jany held her breath when the masked man removed the tray from her lap. He didn’t touch her this time, and she almost sighed with relief. She watched him go out, listening for the click of the door. The lock clicked.

Damn it, what was that? Why did I react that way? He’s an ugly, insane bastard. How can I begin to think of sex with him? Maybe he put some kind of drug in my food. An aphrodisiac?

But he was gone, and she was free. With probably no time to spare before his return, Jany hurried to the toilet. Done, she wondered about having another shower, about letting hot water soothe her afflictions. Cutting her musing short, he came back to stand by the metallic bondage device. Then he raised his right hand to show her the little key.

Not the chains again. Shit, what did I do to deserve this? I’d be perfectly happy lying on the bed. Can’t you see that, you great big lummox?

But she walked to him. Head high, shoulders squared, breasts thrust out, the beat of her heart quickening with each step, Jany approached him. He fastened her wrists first, followed by her ankles, the latex gloves brushing her skin. With a sidelong glance, she spotted the dildo on the middle shelf. The blue dolphin seemed to stare at her.

Here we go again. All aboard the merry-go-round. A little buzzing, a little rub rub, and Jany girl will shoot to the stars. What about you, pal? What’s your thing? Is there anything in it for you?

“What do you want?”

The sound of her voice almost startling her, she realized she needed an answer. She waited while he switched the television on, retrieved a DVD from the cupboard, and inserted it in the player. A different soundtrack filled the room, yet not unlike the previous day’s movie. Then the masked man left the basement without a single look at her.

Holy Jesus, look at me! Naked, in chains, spread-eagle. What else can I do but watch porn?

The new actress looked as dopey as Sarah Conner. Also wearing a tiny bikini, she was in dire need of an electrician to fix her circuitry. Against all odds, a hunky professional happened to be in the neighborhood. Knocking on her door, he was promptly ushered into the bedroom where lamps and lighting fixtures looked just fine.

On second thoughts, watching porn proved to be much more entertaining than Jany expected, funnier than worrying over her absence at work, over the earful she was sure to get when she came back. If she ever came back. On the bright side, her parents had gone on a seniors boat cruise, so she didn’t have to call them until next week.

Mom, Dad, I hope you enjoy your cruise. Meanwhile, your only and favorite daughter is having a hell of a time.

On the screen, Brenda and Brandon were fucking like bunnies. They had devastated the bed, the desk in the corner of the room, the en suite bathroom. Satisfying sex yet not unforgettable. They ran for the balcony. After all, the neighbors might also appreciate a live show.

Very much like the previous night, Jany reacted strongly to the crude, colorful movie. As if her mind had taken a day off, her body betrayed her. A particular heat coursing through her, sweat breaking out, and she willed the masked man to come back, to touch her, to stroke her, to do anything he pleased with her as long as he appeased her burning desire. He did.

He might have just meant to check in on her, but one look at her face, and he was standing by her side. Jany saw his gloved hand move toward the shelf, toward the dildo, and a ferocious sensation wrenched her guts.

“Don’t!”

Her vibrant plea seemed to break the walls down. He halted. He looked at her. His deep, green eyes nailed her, crucified her. The chains rattled, the metal rings jarred against her limbs.

She shook her head. “
You
do it.”

For the first time since she’d found herself in that basement, the masked man seemed surprised. Although Jany couldn’t see his face, she was by now attuned to his impassive stare and to his body language. She knew she had startled him.

Holding his gaze, she expressed her desire. “Touch me.”

For a second, he remained motionless. Then he moved, and she repressed a cry. Hands on her breasts, he rubbed her nipples with his gloved palms, his slow, burning circles making her want to touch him. When he pinched her nipples, she felt like grabbing the part of him she now craved.

He pinched them, he stroked them, he twirled them. She sighed, she hissed, she moaned. She’d never felt that way. As he silently squeezed her nipples, her body yearned for more, for a deliverance that had nothing to do with locks and chains. She closed her eyes.

The delicious sensations abated, and she experienced his hands over her body, her belly, her hips, her thighs. Arousing as his caresses were, the cold gloves felt wrong. She hungered for the touch of his warm skin inside her, the touch of him. She opened her eyes.

“Take off the gloves.”

The motion of his hands ceased. Arms dangling, he looked at her before taking a step back.

What now? Did I say something wrong? Well, what did you expect, pal? You can’t kidnap a woman and assume she’ll just shut up. You can’t turn her on and have it your way. That’s not in the book.

Whatever he had assumed, he’d made his mind up. He killed the movie. A short trip to the kinky cupboard, and he raised a blindfold before her eyes. The sight of the black fabric sent her pulse wild. Without the slightest hesitation, she nodded. He tied the blindfold tightly around her head.

You really don’t want me to see you, do you? Not even your hands. Why? For the love of God, why?

Shrouded in darkness, Jany heard a distinctive plastic sound. He was taking the gloves off. After that, she only listened to the thudding of her heart as the invisible man touched her. Warm skin on her pussy. Lively fingers cuddling her lips, breaking them open, ferreting out her clitoris, fondling it until her moans changed to deep-throated cries.

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.”

Abruptly, the fingers left her. The wild sensations faded. Blindfolded and helpless, Jany stopped breathing.

Chapter Six

She thought she heard a sound, like a quick, shifting noise. Body tensed, hands balled into fists, legs taut, she felt at a loss. What was going on? Why had he stopped? What was coming?

Two hands began stroking her thighs. Up and down, the gentle caresses on her skin made her legs quiver. Her body relaxing, she relished the soft grazing, the exciting touch aiming for the heart of her bush. Mouth dry, pussy wet, she moaned again when he applied pressure on it.

As fast as they had faded, the torrid sensations she had experienced rushed back, fiercer and deeper. This time, he inserted a finger in her. She jerked from the amazing feeling, astounded by the force of her reaction, unable to bear the pleasure he was giving her.

He wouldn’t fool her though. His finger had nothing to do with her burst of joy; his tongue had. He had penetrated her with his tongue, and he was licking her core.

He had removed his mask.

The thought of his nameless face buried in her fanny made her skin tingle. The foraying tongue set her ablaze; the sucking mouth liquefied her. She felt like an ice cream under a scorching July Nevada sun. Her insides melted. Everything she was dissolved into a single point of her body. Nothing else existed but the torturing fire he was fueling with his mouth.

When his tongue reached her clit, she yanked on the metal rings. The chains jangled, deadening her unbridled yell. The fiddling tongue seared her oversensitive flesh, breaking her apart, propelling her mind into a world of ecstasy. Manacles biting her skin, head rocking, face contorted, her whole body taut as a bow, she let out a long, gut-wrenching wail.

A sweet-and-sour smell abruptly reached her nose. A sudden emptiness between her thighs, and she felt a presence beside her face. A finger stroked her cheek, a light touch caressed her lips, blossoming fragrances nuzzling up around her. Her scent on his mouth? Then a warm breath against her cheek and a whisper in her ear.

“Come for me.”

Blind, she wondered if he observed her features strained with pleasure. Then she heard a shifting noise again, and she stopped wondering because between her thighs, the fire raged anew. Relentless and nerve-shattering, the sweet, abrasive tongue snapped her up, snared her, enslaved her. The heavy, easy strokes bowled her over, hurled her to the edge of herself. She came. Quick, violent spasms ripped her body, drawing forcible wails out of her. The chains rattled in unison, tugged by her twitching limbs.

Life rushed back, yet she couldn’t think; she couldn’t breathe. Totally drained, she barely felt a touch on the back of her head. A harsh light stung her eyes as the blindfold fell off. She blinked. A faint ache toyed with her wrists and ankles as the manacles came off. She sagged.

White mask secured on his face, the silent man helped her to the bed. Around her waist, his arm felt solid and hard. She collapsed on the mattress, the soft sheet welcoming her exhausted body. Breathing hard, she watched her tormentor go for the little jar of Vaseline.

Sitting by her side, he greased the skin that had turned red. He rubbed her ankles and wrists, his gloved fingers light and gentle. As he applied the last touch, Jany placed an impulsive hand on his forearm, enjoying the mellowy feeling of his shirt.

“What do you want?”

He slowly removed his arm to put the cap back on the jar. Getting up, he gave her a long, unfathomable look before replacing the jar on the shelf and walking to the door. He opened it, his back to her, and stepped out. The lock was already clicking into place when Jany realized he had spoken to her.

“I don’t want anything.”

Shocked, she propped up the pillow and sat up. She hadn’t expected him to finally answer her question. Now he was gone before she could attempt to start a conversation. Relaxing, her body relieved from tension, Jany pondered on the words she had managed to extract from him.

You lying shit! You
do
want something, I just don’t know what it is yet. But give me time, and you’ll see.

The guy was a lying shit all right, but one who had the power to turn her inside out. Recalling the violent sensations he had ignited in her, a new heat wave threatened to take possession of her body. In Jany’s vocabulary, the word “awesome” sounded damn feeble compared to the shattering sensation she had experienced at his hands and tongue.

He’d enjoyed giving her pleasure without asking for anything in return. Unfortunately for him, Jany didn’t believe in selfless acts, least of all since she had happened to see the bulge in his jeans. When he had brought the jar back to soothe her skin, the unforeseen protuberance had caught her eye. Even if he wouldn’t acknowledge the fact, her cries of raw pleasure had turned him on. He wasn’t an asexual entity after all. He was a man.

Upstairs, a door banged. Had he gone out? Had he left her alone? Or was he playing a practical joke on her?

Jany got up. First, she checked the basement door. No luck there. She tried the television but only got a snowy, crackly screen. Turning the water on, she stepped into the shower.

She knew the sound of his voice now. Low-pitched and smooth. He hadn’t talked much, yet enough for her to know he was a complete stranger. She had a good ear for music. If she had met him before, his voice would have rung a bell. No bell, no alarm, no recognition.