“So because I never slept with a man, there’s something wrong? Fine, there is. And I want to keep it that way.” Tired of this discussion, she pulled the blanket back over her shoulders and tucked it around her chin, covering her breasts. “I’m not lying. I’m also done with the sandwich. Leave the water, if I’ve given you what you wanted or if you’ve taken it. If you’re not satisfied, don’t leave it. Whatever. I’m done.”
He yanked her to her feet, holding her shoulders at arm’s length. “You’re not in a position to dismiss me—ever. We’re done when I say we’re done.” His eyes were now the deepest ocean depth. “Do not fucking lie. Are you a virgin?”
She lifted her chin. “I was when I woke yesterday.”
“One fucking taste, a kiss to your sweet, wet lips. I didn’t…how the fuck would I know?”
Indignation rang as her volume increased. “I don’t know, you could have asked or let me tell you. There are more possibilities than drugging and kidnapping me!”
She didn’t see his hand until it was too late. Her cheek stung as tears filled her eyes.
Dexter took a step back. “Don’t make me do that again.”
Make him? What could she possibly say? He’d just hit her, actually slapped her.
Dexter’s tone hardened. “Respect. I gave it to you by not fucking you when I could—which includes right now, too. You give it to me. That was your last outburst. The next one will be met with a harsher reply.”
Harsher than a slap?
She straightened her shoulders, ignoring the tears flowing down her cheeks. “Yes. I’m a virgin. And if you want the money my father will pay to get me back, you’ll return me to him that way.”
Dexter took another step back, increasing the distance between them and rubbing his hand over the stubble on his chin. “You have this all wrong. I’m not holding you for ransom. Not everyone is after your daddy’s money. I have plenty of my own.
“You’re here for one reason: because you’re mine. We’re meant to be together. I’m not returning you.” He turned a small circle. The muscles in his neck tensed as his jaw clenched. “Now, bug, we’re done. Drop the blanket.”
Her eyes widened.
He tilted his head toward the floor, the spot where she’d knelt. “Stand in position—unless you’d rather kneel.” His blue-green eyes shone her way, daring her to disobey.
With her heart beating faster, she dropped the blanket and made her way to where he’d pointed. Biting her lip, she did as he’d said: feet, shoulder-distance apart, shoulders back, arms at her side, palms out, and lastly, chin up. The cold chill returned, tracking up her body from the hard floor all the way to her scalp.
As if she were no longer there, Dexter worked, putting the food back on the cart as well as the table and chairs. Once the room was clear, he turned. His gaze moved up her body, lingering momentarily on her pussy and then her breasts. When their eyes met, he said, “A virgin.” He shook his head. “I guess I do know how to pick them.”
Natalie momentarily closed her eyes.
“I’ll leave the blanket and the rest of the water. Don’t move until the door is shut. When I return be exactly as you are now. For the rest of the day, my two rules are simple. First, no touching or pleasuring yourself. Don’t think that you can in the bathroom. There’s a camera in there too. And do not bathe. We’ll discuss that on my next visit.”
He walked closer until the musk of his cologne filled her senses and the warmth radiating from his chest rippled over her bare skin. “Tell me, have you? Touched yourself? Made yourself come?”
Heat sparked in her cheeks. Not only there, a flicker of flame heated her core with an embarrassing rush of warmth.
“Please, Dexter.”
His grin grew. “Oh, you have. I can tell. It’s permissible to think about it. Think about how much better it will be with a man, one who knows how to please you.” His knuckle caressed her jaw. “That’s it, bug, imagine. Just do not touch.” He stepped back. “Can you behave?”
“Yes.”
“For the record, I said you should never feel embarrassed, and I meant it. I’m glad to know you’ve touched yourself. I can tell the idea turns you on. Your cheeks are pink and I smell your arousal.” He laughed. “What I didn’t say is that I wouldn’t humiliate you. I will. Because I enjoy it. I’ll also exalt you. You can plan on me doing both. Just remember, it’ll only be me who’ll debase you, only I’ll see you broken, because only I can put you back together.
“You’re my bug, but more importantly, you’re also my queen. No one else will ever see or know what we do alone.”
Her breathing deepened at his statement. It wasn’t a threat, but a promise.
And then he was gone.
Natalie’s shoulders relaxed as the door shut. She rushed to the blanket lying on the floor.
The man was certifiably nuts. And how dare he tell her not to touch herself? She hadn’t planned on it. But now, the seed was planted…
Chapter Twelve
Once you consent to some concession, you can never cancel it and put things back the way they are.
~ Howard Hughes
Days lost meaning as time passed into weeks. If Natalie were a missing person, she hadn’t heard. She hadn’t heard anything about anything, except from Dexter.
She’d boarded the plane in Boston on a Friday in mid-December. It had been before Christmas and her sister’s birthday. She’d tried to keep track of time, but days and nights intertwined. Sometimes when Dexter arrived with breakfast, it was still dark through the small window. Some days it never seemed to get fully light. Other times, their day would end, and the light would persist.
After a few days, she earned artificial lighting. At first, she hadn’t seen the source. It was a rope-type light hidden high above in the seam between the wall and ceiling that only Dexter could control. Though the room was still stark, the light helped her spirit.
Everything in Natalie’s life came with a price, the value determined by Dexter. Whether it was towels for the bathroom, washcloths, soft sheets, or even a pillow for the bed, only he could assign their worth. Sometimes it was an act of submission or obedience. Other times, a thought or a feeling, verbally shared. Sometimes it was memories. Every question asked must receive a truthful answer. Recalling memories was the most difficult and emotionally taxing. The bigger the sacrifice, the greater the reward.
While sometimes it felt otherwise, everything was also Natalie’s choice. She could opt not to give the price Dexter determined. That too would be met by consequences. Which did she want: the reward or the punishment? In all things, the final decision was hers.
A mortifying change in Natalie’s life was bathing. Due to his rule about self-gratification, taking a bath wasn’t allowed to be done in private. It wasn’t enough that she knew Dexter could watch via cameras: he insisted on being present. At first, he physically bathed her as if she were a toddler in need of assistance. When it was his hand that wielded the sponge or cloth, she was rewarded with rich-smelling bath salts, soaps, shampoo, and conditioner. And then after he’d dry her—all of her—he’d instruct her to lie on the mattress and he’d cover her skin in velvety lotions. The scents varied, but their presence permeated the musty air, creating a pleasant cloud.