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Please don’t take me into the torture room,is my silent mantra as I walk in front of Darien. He has the shotgun pressed into the small of my back as he shoves me along. When we reach the door, I refuse to go in.
“Don’t make me shoot you in the hallway, Alana. This carpet is old, and the blood will never come out. Open the door and get in there,” Darien growls.
I want to refuse, but I know there’s no point in arguing. I slowly and reluctantly open the door, afraid of what awaits me on the other side.
The large gynecological chair sits in the center of the room, with straps and restraints dangling from it like an ominous warning. It’s like it’s taunting me with the plans Darien has for me.
My heart pounds as I take a step back into Darien’s chest. He grabs my arm roughly and thrusts me forward toward the chair with a sadistic laugh.
“Sit,” he says coldly, motioning toward the chair with his gun.
I swallow hard as I move closer to the chair, feeling every cell in my body screaming for me to run away. My feet feel rooted to the spot beneath me, as if some unseen force is holding me down against my will. Tears stream down my face as I slowly lower myself into the chair, feeling more scared and vulnerable than I ever have in my life.
“Can you please relax? We’re just going to sit and have a friendly conversation about the expectations I have for you, okay? Some house rules,” Darien says as he stands to my left and watches me cautiously.
He tosses me a cloth, and I use it to wipe my eyes before looking at his face. He has a smug smile and a glint of something nefarious in his eyes. I know that we’ll be doing more than talking while I’m in this room. I have to get the fuck out of here, but how?
“No more escape plans,” he says. “I have this house locked down better than Area 51. You’re not going anywhere. All you’re doing is pissing me off, and I can’t promise you won’t get hurt when I’m mad. Please, for your own good, stay where the fuck I put you. That’s rule number one. Rule number two, you’re going to have to learn your place.”
My stomach twists and bile rises into my throat as I realize what he’s trying to do. He has some twisted idea that I’m going to live in this house as some kind of sex slave. I look up at the walls, which are filled with various implements of torture: butt plugs, dildos, knives, and other objects that I can’t even comprehend. While he talks, he walks around the room and touches each of these items with reverence.
He pauses for a moment to take out an ornate glass bottle filled with a clear fluid. He brings it close to his nose and inhales deeply before setting it down on the table next to him. The shotgun never veers away from me as he inspects each item, making sure I understand what will happen if I don’t obey his every command without hesitation. It’s then that I finally notice how pleased Darien looks when gazing upon his collection of tools of torture. His eyes glimmer with delight as he caresses each item like they’re pieces of fine art or expensive jewelry. In reality, they’re weapons intended to inflict pain on me.
It’s this look in Darien’s eyes that chills me—there is no escape from this man. Either I die or he dies. That’s the only way this hell ends.
“This is going to be the room you spend the most time in. This room can either be an endless source of pain or pleasure for you, Alana. That’s entirely up to you and your behavior. I have everything you can imagine that’ll make you scream,” he says as he holds up a vibrator. I dry heave when I realize it’s the one he took from my apartment.
“Ah, I see you recognize some of your belongings,” he says with a grin. “We already know you know how to use these, huh?”
He steps closer to me, and I can feel his breath on my neck as he leans in to whisper in my ear.
“Living in this house is going to be interesting for you. You will do as I say when I say it or else you will suffer the consequences, Alana. I expect you to obey my every command without hesitation.” He pulls away from me and looks into my eyes with a cold, calculating expression before continuing. “You’ll perform all kinds of tasks while living here; from cleaning up the rooms to cooking meals for me. You’ll also have to submit yourself sexually whenever I want, no questions asked. If you want something, you must ask permission first. Otherwise, it’s considered disobedience and there are consequences for that.”
His gaze never leaves mine as he takes a step back and looks over his collection of toys once more with a satisfied smirk.
“Do you have questions?” His voice is soft, and he almost looks kind for a brief reprieve.
“Why are you doing this?” I whisper.
“We’ve been over this, Alana. We’re soulmates. I’ve known since the moment I saw you.”
“And that justifies taking me and holding me against my will?” I ask, a hint of anger in my voice.
He shakes his head, “No. But it shows you how far I’m willing to go for us to be together. I know this isn’t ideal, but it’s the only way I can be sure you won’t leave me. Now Alana,” he says, “It’s time for you to learn what life here in the house of Darien holds. Your first punishment for tricking me is to sit in this chair for the night.”
He walks toward me and buckles my ankles to the chair. He takes his time with each strap, adjusting them so they’re just tight enough to keep me in place without causing too much pain. I realize this is the first time he’s sat the gun down since we entered the room, and I glance to my left and grab a small knife. I place it behind my back, and he doesn’t seem to notice.
He then moves on to my wrists, looping the straps through the buckles and tugging them tight. He pauses his movements when something catches his attention.
“My clothes look so good against your skin,” he says as he kneels down and slides the material of the shorts up my legs. His hands move along my thighs, caressing me. His touch is gentle and menacing at the same time.
“I know I said we were just going to talk, but I don’t think you realize how long I’ve been controlling myself around you,” he whispers.
My heart races as I feel his fingers slide around the waistband of my panties. I want to resist, but I know it won’t do any good. He’s stronger than me, and he’ll take what he wants no matter what I say.
He pulls my underwear down and exposes me to him. A mix of revulsion and paralyzing fear runs through me as his fingertips brush against me. His lips curl in a satisfied smirk as he stands back up, leaving me vulnerable to him.
He leans down, pressing his lips to mine and exploring my mouth with his tongue. He wraps a hand around the back of my neck, pushing me deeper into the kiss. His other hand slides up my thigh as he continues to ravish my mouth until I’m breathless and weak in his arms.
