Against the clock

11.

'Derek, it's dark. You wouldn't even see anything,' I said, trying to reassure him. The uncertainty and tension in the air were palpable, and you continued, 'It's not worth getting hurt for.'

He looked up at me, his expression reflecting a mix of concern and determination. 'Meredith, I don't want to hurt you,' Derek admitted, his voice carrying the weight of genuine care. The two of us locked eyes, united in out resolve to resist the twisted game being imposed upon you.

'It won't hurt me,' I said, my voice steady, 'not as much as he will hurt me.' The admission hung in the air, revealing the depth of my fear and the desperate calculation to endure a personal sacrifice to protect Derek.

The tension in the room escalated as we heard the door creak open. The sound of shuffling indicated someone's presence, and then, a bucket with water, a washcloth, soap, and a single towel were placed before us. It was still dark, but our eyes got used a bit to the darkness,  Derek's shadow moved across the room, and he approached the bucket. Plunging his hand into the water, he recoiled at the icy chill. 'It's freezing cold,' Derek remarked.

'Do you want me to go first?' he asked, his voice sounding with a lot of empathy. I took a deep breath and nodded slowly, accepting the painful necessity. 'Go ahead,' I said, my voice barely above a whisper. Derek's jaw tightened, a mixture of reluctance and determination in his eyes.  I walked over, to Derek. I was standing in front of him, ready for him to undress. The voice, cold and calculating, interrupted our uneasy ritual. 'Stop. She has to undress you,' it declared.

Derek's firm declaration cut through the tense air. 'She's my student,' he asserted, his voice carrying a blend of defiance and indignation. His refusal to allow our captor to dictate every aspect of our actions conveyed a silent protest against the dehumanizing nature of our situation. 'The washing thing is bad enough,' he added, drawing a line in the sand, unwilling to surrender any more of our dignity to the unseen puppeteer.

'As if that would ever stop you. I see it in your eyes. You'd like to fuck her as badly as I do,' he said, a wry laugh escaping his lips. Derek, undeterred, countered, 'Don't listen to him.' His voice cut through the oppressive atmosphere, offering a steadying reassurance. 'You may find my rules amusing, but remember, you're the ones who have everything to lose. Now. Undress him.'

I hesitated for a moment, fear gripping me, but I did as he said, afraid something would happen to us if I didn't comply. With a deep breath, I put my hands on his chest to orientate mysself. I started moving upward, unbuttoning the first button of his shirt. 'It's okay' I heard him mumble in my ear, making me shiver a bit. The air was thick with tension as I continued unbuttoning Derek's shirt, my fingers navigating the fabric with a cautious touch. Each button undone felt like a silent act of defiance against the voice's perverse demands. Derek stood still, his presence a source of silent support, and the small reassurance of his mumbled words in the darkness offered a fleeting comfort.

I hesitated for a moment, my fingers resting on the button of Derek's trousers. The fear gripping me intensified, but I steeled myself and began unfastening the button, my hands trembling slightly. Derek's silhouette remained a steadfast presence in the darkness, a symbol of resistance against the unseen tormentor.

As I reached his pants and slid the zipper down, the voice continued its perverse commentary, reveling in the discomfort it inflicted. 'Oh, the anticipation! How intimate. Take it all off, sweetheart. Don't be shy; we're all friends here.' The repugnant words hung in the air, adding another layer of violation to the already oppressive atmosphere.

Derek's patience wore thin, frustration evident in his voice. 'Ignore him, Meredith. Just get it over with,' he urged, his words a mixture of irritation and concern. I nodded, my hands guided by a sense of urgency to complete the degrading task quickly. The fabric of Derek's trousers slid down, and I carefully guided them to the floor, leaving him in his underwear. The air was thick with tension as I knelt down, my hands now on the waistband of Derek's underwear. The voice, persistently intrusive, continued its vile commentary. 'Ah, the final act. How delightful. Don't be shy, Meredith. Give us the full show.' The words felt like a violation, each syllable a reminder of our vulnerability.