“Stop it. Please,” I beg as my knees weaken. He goes for a few more seconds, his hand invading me, but still nothing like the night we first met. Flashes of the feeling I had that night fill me with shame: How I let this man almost take me to orgasm, and how now, despite my resistance, if he wanted to again he likely could.
But he stops on his own accord, rinsing me off and toweling me. He hands me the water and I chug down as much as I can without getting sick. Instantly, life returns to my body.
“Can I watch more TV?” I ask.
He doesn't answer.
“I just want to see if my brother is okay. He wasn't at the news conference.”
He shakes his head. TV is not on the table today.
I suck back a sharp sob, I don't want to cry in front of him anymore.
He walks over to the milk crate and pulls out a thick blanket. Softness. Texture. Warmth. What I wouldn't do to be able to sleep on that tonight. The floor is so cold and unforgiving. I've lost fat and with that, cushion, and my bones ache.
“What do I have to do? Just say it. I don't understand why you won't say it.”
He walks over and lays it on the floor behind me. Then he comes back to face me, close, and that's when I see the bulge in his pants. It's menacing and I'm scared and yet the area where he last touched lights up. He leans in close enough for his hardness to graze me.
“I'm gonna taste your pussy,” he whispers in my ear. His voice is gritty and low, the auditory equivalent of gravel.
I shake my head. I won't do this. This isn't who I am. He can strip me down, starve me, isolate me, but I am still Vesper Rivers.
He shrugs, pulling the blanket off the floor. Tossing it in the milk crate, going through the motions for a grand exit. It's so unfair, this is all nothing to him, but this basement is my world. That blanket could be my bed. It could shield my naked body so I can maintain a shred of dignity. It could hug me. A simple hug, even from a blanket would be a lifeline right now.
A sense of panic rises in me as he walks towards the stairs. He's the only person I can talk to or touch. I don't want him to go. I don't want to sit in this endless boredom, staring out the tiny window that is far out of reach. I've run out of things to think about. I've slept away more hours than I can count. I don't know how much longer I can keep going without food. I feel like I'm hanging onto my sanity by a hair. I have to stop him from leaving me in here.
“Wait! Can we bargain? Can I have one more thing?” He stops, but doesn't face me. He's listening.
“Food. I'm so hungry. I can't keep going like this. The blanket and the food. I know you have some. I can smell it.”
He's silent for a few moments. Probably to fuck with me more than trying to mull it over. Then he shakes his head.
“Oh come on!” I shout, hot tears falling down my cheeks. I'm so angry I'm letting myself cry over such mundane items. I've been reduced to an infant, relying on someone for my most basic needs and unable to communicate through anything but tears.
He comes over and stands a foot away from me. Without a word, he looks me up and down, scanning my naked body like it's a meal. I've gotten somewhat used to the nudity, but the way his eyes scour me feels more intrusive than the bathing.
“You'll have to let me lick your cunt for the blanket. But if you want to eat food, you'll have to swallow my cock first.” He reaches down and unzips his pants, pulling out his thick, engorged penis. For some reason I salivate, causing me to gulp. Sustenance, company, sex, it's all becoming intermingled. One associated with the other.
If I had to guess, I've been here for many days, maybe weeks. I've had one high calorie meal, but my hip bones are jutting out. I am weak. I am tired. I've had just enough water to keep myself alive and I wonder if my kidneys might go soon. The blanket is nice. It's a luxury. But food, food is life. And I am going to do anything I can to survive.
I don't have any more energy to bargain or even speak, simply nodding in consensus.
“Can I just have a bite? Just something to start? My head hurts.” His crystal eyes, strong and unwavering, meet my sunken light brown ones. “I'll do a better job for you if I have energy.” In case he doesn't have a human side, I appeal to his carnal one.
He walks over to the milk crate, his hard dick still hanging out, bouncing as he walks, and pulls out something. I stand taller with excitement. It's a bag of potato chips. He opens it and takes out a handful, then folds the bag, placing it back in the crate before walking over.
He bobs his head at me and I open my mouth. He feeds me one chip and my mouth bursts with salty goodness.
“Mmmm,” I moan shamelessly. I think I see his lips curve into a smile that he quickly fixes. Another. Another. I get ten chips. Ten glorious, salty, crunchy chips. Enough to make my mind think it's getting more food and trigger a second wind. The small dose shifts my mood, putting me in an unlikely post-snack high.
But the feeding is only a minute, and now I have to work on the down payment I collected.