Captured by him

Chapter 17: The bed

Light flooded my vision when I opened my eyes. I clamped my eyes open and shut trying to adjust to my new environment. Was this it? Was it finally over? No. No, it most certainly was not, as I would soon discover.

Soft, silky fabric rested on my skin. I lay on my back, my head resting on something fluffy. Tobacco and mint filled my nostrils. I was back in his bed again. Moving my toes, I began feeling sensations traveling up my leg. Silk sheets fell on my legs. Something was resting on my mid-thigh, which I decided must have been some clothing.

Next was my stomach. It burned. Sharp pains shot through it, just thinking about the pain I had endured. It would surely be bruised from the assault Mason had conducted on me. I could feel the swelling and heat that traveled near the area, trying to heal. Maybe if it hadn't healed, I would have made different decisions later. Maybe I would have done things differently. Maybe.

Continuing up my body, my breasts were no longer restricted by a bra. The same fabric that lay covering my legs, covered my chest. My shoulders ached, most likely from being restrained above my head. My wrists let off stinging sensations from where the restraints must have cut me. I had probably done it to myself by struggling to break free. The bones that were in my wrists, had been continually tugged on with great force by me for the duration of my torture. They felt coarse, but also tender like I had pulverised them to mince. With much pain, I wiggled my fingers to check I still was able to move them.

The pads of my fingers rubbed against each other. The tips were dry. The tendon that ran down the middle of my wrist begged me to stop, as I tapped each finger with my thumb. Only once I was sure that I could feel them all, did I listen to my body's plea.

The mint and tobacco had become more subtle to me. My brain had gotten used to it. It was kind of like when you walk into a public bathroom, it smells of stale urine and who knows what else. When you first go in, the smell is unbearable but slowly, your body starts to adapt. It starts to accept your environment, it makes it tolerable for you. Then when you return to the fresh air, it is the most beautiful thing you have ever experienced. This was me.

Every time Mason had caused me to pass out from pain or drugs or on the rare occasion I slept peacefully, it was my escape, my freedom. Every time I woke up again, dread was all I felt. I dreaded the light that would fill my eyes, the actions I might make. I dreaded being in the presence of the monster who called me his.

I lifted my head from what it was supported by. Cautiously I surveyed the room to see if he was with me. He wasn't. My hair fell off my shoulders and hung down lightly grazing my back as I propped myself up with my elbows. The sound of water running caused me to shift my gaze to the bathroom door. It was shut. He would be in there, showering like a normal day. As if he didn't just physically assault someone to the point they passed out. This wasn't normal to me at all, but it was a regular day for him.

Who knows how many people he tortures on a daily basis. Given his line of ... work, he would probably do more than enough of 'getting information' from people. How many girls came before me? What happened to them? I highly doubted that I would be his first captive. Someone of his status and ego would definitely need certain pleasures to be fulfilled. Did he take them from their families too? Or were they his willing prey to accommodate his every need. Did he take them forcefully in his bed each night? Would he do the same to me?

I wasn't sure when, but the water had stopped running. It was eerily silent. Changing my focus back to the bathroom door, my eyes were met by Masons. He was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed against his bare chest. A towel covered his lower body, his abs tensing to hold him up. Water trickled down from his now darkened hair from the dampness. It beaded down his torso, to be collected by his towel. Uncomfortable by his prolonged gaze, I began to wriggle to myself, to roll out of bed.