A Bedtime Story (11 page)

She unconsciously whimpered at the contact. Desperate for him to
press harder, to move his fingers over and around her bundle of
nerves and give her that release she wouldn’t allow herself on her own. She
blushed with shame at her own animalistic thoughts, deeply disconcerted at her
responses to his sordid ministrations. Her thoughts incoherent, she whimpered,
“Please…”

He began moving his fingers. At first, very slowly, unnervingly so,
his fingers barely grazed her. Without will or awareness, her body arched to meet
his touch.

He let out a soft chuckle, applying more pressure as he picked up
the rhythm. “Please what, Laura? Please… stop? Please… continue? Please…
make me
come
?” he coaxed her, his voice hoarse, whispering into her ear.

A soft and surprised “Oh” escaped her lips as her muscles
contracted and quivered against his fingers. He pulled his head back barely an inch
so he could have a better look at her. Enraptured, he watched her horrified eyes
turn hazy with pleasure as her body slackened underneath his, and smiled
triumphantly at her. She was still panting, distress gaining her eyes at the
realization of what just happened.

“You may be excused,” he leaned back close and whispered teasingly,
just as she had asked him time and again before. He freed her wrists, watching with
open amusement as she staggered to her feet flustered and disoriented. He caught her
by the waist when she took a false step and lost her balance. She blushed, muttering
a hushed impersonal “Thank you,” her eyes roaming in every direction to avoid his,
then she rushed out of the room without ever turning back.

“You’re welcome,” he called out after her, his troublesome snicker
underlining what he was referring to.

***

Kayne poured himself another drink. He stared at the TV blankly,
his mind consumed with thought. He was still horny as hell, considered making a call
but decided against it, feeling lazy and pensive. The girl surprised him. She was
gutsier than he gave her credit for. He still couldn’t believe she had come to meet
him
on her own.
Crazy girl
, he shook his head with an amused
smile. She had been terrified but still spoke her mind, he could respect that. Had
he noted jealousy when she asked about Tanya? He wondered. It was almost too easy.
I thought you were together
… He laughed inwardly, that’s one way to put
it.

He thought back to his time with Tanya, when she was still his. He
could still see her defiant stare as she’d obey unblinkingly his most degrading
demands, crawling on all fours with her head held high. She was something else,
brought out his most sadistic side. He felt himself stiffen. He had loved to hurt
her, humiliate her, always pushing her further. But what he wanted most of all was
just to make her bow her head, feel her break and crumble at his feet.

He remembered when it finally happened. It was neither whips nor
canes that ended the long duel. It was cruel words whispered softly in her ears that
had sealed her fate. She was shameless and thick skinned, but like most women, her
heart was her ultimate demise. He remembered how she had crawled to him, her belly
flat on the floor, and latched on to his foot, kissing it, again and again. “Please,
Master… I love you…” she had finally confessed, breaking into a sob. He stood over
her, looking down with disdain at the dewy-eyed creature he could barely recognize.
He knew it was over right then and there.

“How incredibly disappointing of you,” he had callously answered,
before shaking his foot free from her clutching hands. Then he walked away, leaving
her heaving on the floor. Before exiting the room, he had turned his head back.
“You’re free. Find another master.”

He had received the courtesy call from Dimitri barely a week later.
That was three years ago. She had come a long way since, even becoming one of
Dimitri’s favorites. Her status as the favorite had been further reinforced when
Dimitri gave her permanent quarters in his second mansion. It was where he hosted
all his parties, where Kayne had brought Laura barely two nights ago.

Then his mind went back to Laura. He felt that same urge, that
unwholesome need to dominate, to conquer and destroy. And
yet the
girl stirred something else in him. Unlike Tanya, she cowered and easily bent to his
will, though unlike all the others, she managed to hold on to herself. What a
fascinating creature, he thought. He wondered how much longer it would take. She
would have let him inside of her, he suspected, but he wanted more, much, much,
more. He wanted to get inside her head, to turn her against herself, to hear her
utter the words
Yes, Master
. He wanted to break her apart so he could put her
back together again, over and over again.

***

Laura cried all night long, curled in a little ball under the
sheets. She didn’t cry from shame at what happened. She cried from despair at what
was to come. This man had a hold on her. This man, holding her captive, hunting her
brother. This man who’d most likely killed and tortured in cold blood. A man who
stood by idly as women were being sold and abused. This was the man she knew would
eventually have her. What if he had tried that night, could she have cried rape?

She cried over the life he took from her, the life she would never
have. She cried over Peter, not once blaming him for her ordeal.
The betrayal was
hers
. She could no longer get his postcards and wondered if he had sent one,
if it was still waiting for her in her mailbox. Wouldn’t they have sent someone to
go through her stuff? If they had found one of his postcards, wouldn’t she have been
interrogated? Was he still in Boston? Was he still alive, riding a convertible into
the sunset, or huddled by a gutter looking for his next fix? Would they get to him
first, or would life simply catch up with him? How long do junkies really live? She
cried over what he had become, over what he had once been. She cried over the Peter
she loved, the one that already died, long ago.

S
he barely had a few hours of sleep and
woke up with a start. It was still early in the day when Olga came in with her
breakfast. She was already dressed in jeans and a warm grey sweater. Even with the
sun shining bright outside, Laura felt cold, big circles under her eyes framing her
vacant look. Olga, concerned, inquired about her well-being. Laura absentmindedly
reassured her, confirming with a withdrawn smile she would attend supper at
seven.

She spent the day in the reading room, unable to read or even watch
the television, just looking out the window, trapped in her mind.

***

At seven, Kayne was already sitting at the table. His mischievous
smile immediately dropped upon seeing her dejected expression. “What’s wrong?” he
asked, his voice grave, his face hard.

Laura advanced slowly and took the seat facing him. She looked up
at him, her eyes weary, and her voice toneless. “I would rather not talk about it,
if it’s okay.”

His jaw tensed. “What’s wrong.” He wasn’t asking anymore.

“Have you found Peter?” she asked, her voice strained.

He sighed, then nodded his head very slightly a few times, as if
confirming his inner speculations. “No, Laura, we haven’t.”

She breathed in with relief. “Will you ever let me go?” she asked
quietly, her directness not emanating from actual courage but with the carelessness
of one who had nothing left to lose.

This was not the supper he had in mind. He felt somehow rejected, a
rather new and unpleasant feeling. She should be blushing and squirming under his
stare after what he’d done to her last night,
not stare him straight
in the eye, her face haggard, asking about freedom,
from him
.

“I don’t know,” he finally answered, his voice cold.

She lowered her eyes, resigned. “What about my stuff, my apartment,
my job…”

“It’s been taken care of.”

She nodded, her eyes still fixed on the untouched plate in front of
her.

“Eat,” he commanded.

They spent the rest of the supper in silence. She played with her
food with no appetite, tentatively bringing a spoon or two to her mouth every now
and then.

“Will you… will you let me go outside?” Her soft voice reached into
his turbulent thoughts.

“What?”

“Just out in the backyard. I just thought I could read outside…”
“No.”

“May I ask why?” she asked, her eyes glistening.

“So I won’t have to hurt you when you try something stupid,” he
cautioned, his eyes penetrating.

“I won’t. I swear… I mean, how could I even… there’s guards
everywhere…”

“You think you won’t, now. But you will, believe me, you will.”

“No… I swear… I just wanted to read… You can’t lock me in here
forever…” Her voice quivered, unshed tears filling her big grey eyes.

“Try me.”

They finished the meal in an oppressing silence. She waited until
he finished his plate to ask to be excused to which he nodded, his expression
inscrutable. As she picked up her plate, ready to bring it to the sink, he stopped
her.

“Leave it,” he barked.

She jerked at the command, then quietly exited the
room under his unnerving glare.

***

Laura fell into a deep sleep as soon as she shut her eyes, mentally
drained, physically exhausted. She had a horrible nightmare about Peter. They were
in a Roman arena. She was sitting next to a faceless king with a crown on her head,
an uneasy feeling in her gut. There was a skinny daunted gladiator in the arena
facing a lion. The crowds cheered and roared dementedly as the lion circled the
defenseless gladiator shakily holding his blade up, turning around on himself in a
futile effort to keep the lion in view.

The gladiator then threw his blade to the floor and ran in the
queen’s direction. “Laura! Why won’t you help me?” he screamed, his face distorted
with emotion.

She recognized her brother too late. The lion broke into a run and
jumped in the air. She howled in pain, screaming his name over and over again.

She woke up still screaming, her face wet with tears. Someone was
shaking her awake.

“Laura… Laura… wake up.” Kayne was sitting on the bed by her side,
a darkness in his eyes contrasting the softness in his voice.

She blinked a few times, slowly coming out of her dream-induced
haze.

“You had a nightmare. You were shouting in your sleep.”

She brought herself up to a sitting position, her eyes looking deep
into his. “But it wasn’t just a nightmare… Peter…” Her voice cracked, tears
returning to her eyes.

He held her gaze, remaining quiet.

“Peter…” she repeated and broke into desperate sobs.

He pulled her to him, carefully, as if afraid he might break her.
Burying her head in the nook of his neck, he ran his fingers through her hair,
making shushing sounds in her ear. She wailed
against his strong
chest, letting herself be caressed and comforted while he placed gentle kisses on
her forehead.

“I don’t want him to die…” she sobbed in his arms.

With his lips still pressed against her forehead, he responded, in
a hushed tone, a hint of affection softening its inflection, “I know.” She leaned
back, turning her big grey eyes to his, the last shred of hope threatening to
abandon them, never to return. “Help me…” They remained in this loose embrace for
what seemed like an eternity, silently staring into each other in the middle of the
darkness that surrounded them, which was slowly becoming a part of them.

He finally nodded his head, slowly, resolute, his eyes boring into
hers. Without another word, he got up and walked away.

K
ayne sat in his office across from his
bedroom on the second floor. It was already past one in the morning. He had just
returned home. He opened his desk drawer and pulled out the postcard. He turned it
over in his hands pensively.
He was already helping her
. He just didn’t know
to what extent he was willing to go and began to wonder if his intentions were still
purely selfish. His talk with Dimitri had been tense but successful.

Dimitri knew right away the girl knew more than she let on. He had
questioned him about it, displeased. He felt the need to remind him what they stood
for; it was far more than getting the information back. If Peter wanted to use it,
he would have. It was about righting the wrong. Betrayal cannot go unpunished, he
reiterated. He reminded him of his father’s teachings. Kayne did not take kindly to
being lectured but remained quiet nonetheless. Dimitri wanted to take back the girl,
have her interrogated right there and then. He had assured him the girl would be
returned to him still attractive,
still useful
.

Kayne had stood his ground then. It was about much more than the
girl; it would undermine his position. If they took the girl from him, Dimitri would
openly disgrace him, deem him incompetent in the eyes of all. He would not tolerate
such insult. The mood got tense.

Kayne made his arguments, carefully choosing his words. Peter had
been on the run for over eight months now. He would be found, and his head, along
with the information, would be brought to him, he assured Dimitri. He had never
failed him before. Was Dimitri ready to jeopardize a lifelong relationship to gain a
few days? If betrayal could not be forgiven, disrespect would not be tolerated,
Kayne asserted. He drew the line in the sand and hoped for the best. Dimitri finally
broke the strenuous silence that followed by waving him into an embrace, chuckling.
So proud
,
just like your father you are
. He’d
given him one more week. That was four days ago.

Things with Laura were unpredictable. One moment she was eating out
of his hand, the next acting like a terrified prisoner. Then, just last night, he
felt her shatter in his arms, looking up at him as a savior,
Help me
. Her
desperate plea resonated in him. He’d never been the person you turned to for help.
Hunt, track, destroy. Those were his talents, his very identity. But he had
acquiesced. In that moment, he had meant it.

Even now, he knew, he wouldn’t turn his back on her. And yet he had
to find Peter. He’d have to make her tell him, within the next three days. Tomorrow,
he thought, tomorrow he would put an end to the Peter saga. He would find a way, and
she would tell him all he needed to know.

He put back the postcard on the desk and leaned back in his chair.
He reached for the phone, exhausted and disgruntled. He needed an outlet for all
this pent-up frustration.

A female voice answered, “Master…”

“Hello, Pet.” A sadistic smile promptly chased away his morose
mood. “You have twenty minutes.”

“Yes, Master.”

***

Laura hadn’t seen Kayne for the day. She so desperately wanted to.
Had she dreamt it all? Had he really walked into her room last night and consented
to helping her? Had she imagined all of this? She had spent the day pacing around,
unable to set her mind to anything but awaiting his return. Olga had informed her
early on that he would not make it home for supper. She waited in the living room
for him all evening, scared to miss his return.

She had finally retreated to her bedroom around midnight and tried
to go to sleep unsuccessfully.

She realized she had been asleep, waking up to clicking sounds
coming from down the hall. She looked at the time; it was almost
two
in the morning. Intrigued, she threw on the first pair of jeans she found by her
chair, threw a T-shirt over it, and tiptoed out of her room. By the time she made it
into the main parlor by the front doors, the sound was gone. She wondered what it
could be. It made her think of a woman’s high heels. Could there be another woman in
the house?
With Kayne?
The idea deeply disturbed her. Rattled, she looked for
the unwanted intruder all over the first floor, going in and out of every room,
finding nothing. She went back to the small living room by the kitchen,
their
living room. She couldn’t shake off the betrayal she felt. How could he bring
another woman here? While she was here. It was ridiculous, she knew. Shouldn’t she
be relieved he had spared her his sordid sexual penchants? He had agreed to help her
and didn’t ask for anything in return. Wasn’t that the best-case scenario she could
have hoped for? And yet the unrelenting twist in her gut disproved her efforts at
reason.
Kayne was here, with another woman
.

She then remembered the cage in the basement. He had taken her left
as soon as they had reached down the stairs, but wasn’t there a corridor going to
the right? Her trepidation grew. Before she even realized what she was doing, Laura
retraced the steps that had taken her down to that cursed room. She opened the back
door carefully, her heart beating faster as the spiraling stairs reappeared. She
remembered too well how she had felt going down them the first time. But as if in a
trance, she was unable to stop herself, taking one step at a time, careful not to
make any noise. She had a vision of Walt Disney’s
Sleeping Beauty
, when
Aurora, under the spell of the wicked witch, climbed the winding stairs leading to
the spinning wheel and, to the hypnotizing music of Tchaikovsky, brought the dark
prophecy to fruition.

When she reached the lower ground, she shook off a shudder as the
holding cell emerged to her left. She quickly looked away, facing the corridor
swerving right. She wasn’t even sure what she was hoping to achieve.

There were closed doors on each side. She turned right, following
the corridor that curled to the left. She could hear female moans and loud cracking
sounds followed by low manly grunts. At the
very end of the
corridor, a metallic door was left ajar. Through it, she saw a woman, hog-tied on a
metal table facing away from her. Laura could only see her long black hair cascading
down. The woman moaned and whimpered as harsh whips fell unto her back, ass, and
thighs. Laura was frozen in place, fixated on the woman, on her throaty “
Yes,
Master… Thank you, Master… Please… More…”
The male voice was low and gruff.
She couldn’t make out the words, but she knew it was Kayne’s. She could recognize
his voice anywhere, his commands, his own brand of brutish force and sensual
persuasion. He took a step forward toward the woman, and she could finally see him.
He was topless, wearing only black dress suit pants, revealing his muscular torso,
toned abs, and broad shoulders. His hair was tied back, though loose strands fell on
his face as he leaned to whisper something into the woman’s ear.

Laura gulped, fascinated and frightened to death by the shocking
scene, by the dangerously alluring and simply dangerous man standing in front of
her. Hearing the small sound she had just made, Kayne, while still bending down to
the woman’s face, lifted his head, barely an inch in Laura’s direction. His eyes
rounded with surprise upon finding her, then narrowed with fury at the
realization.

Laura took a few steps back, terrified, mouthing
No, no
…

His eyes piercing into hers, he brought himself up to his full
height. She didn’t wait an instant longer. She broke into a run, up the stairs and
all the way to the front doors, trying the handle frantically, but it was locked
electronically. She banged on the door with frustration, in complete panic, which
only attracted the attention of one of the guards posted outside. She fell to her
knees and wept on the floor. There was no way out. Any moment now, he would come.
God only knew what he had in store for her. There was nothing else for her to do but
to get back to her room and powerlessly await the ramifications of her impulsive
actions.

***

Kayne was livid. He almost chased her up the stairs
but talked himself out of it. He would have to calm down a little before finding
her, or else he didn’t know what he would do. He dismissed his whore unceremoniously
and went back to his room for a hot shower to help collect himself. After throwing
on a pair of jeans and a white shirt, he went to his office and picked up the
postcard. Carefully folding it, he put it in his back pocket, took a few long
breaths, then headed to Laura’s room.

He opened the door slowly, finding her crouching on the bed, her
back against the stand, hugging her knees, visibly shaking. He didn’t walk straight
toward her. He inspected the room, looking around, familiarizing himself with her
environment. He had always avoided this room.
His mother’s room
. He lingered
by the vanity, picking up and placing back a few things, all the while under Laura’s
petrified stare. He then grabbed the chair facing the mirror, moved it close to the
bed, and casually sat in it. He spread his legs, leaning back, making himself
comfortable before addressing her. His eyes acerbic, he commanded harshly, “Speak.”
She broke into uncontrollable shaking. She began rocking herself as tears rolled
down her cheeks.

He leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees, his
soft voice dripping with threat. “You have willfully disrespected and disobeyed me
in my own house. I am being kind enough to give you a chance to explain yourself.
You would be wise to use it.”

“No… no, no, no, no…” she repeated hysterically, shaking her
head.

“Explain yourself!”

She had a complete meltdown. “Please… please… I swear… I didn’t
mean to… I didn’t mean to disrespect or disobey… please…” she desperately cried.

He remained impassive, if not a little annoyed. He stood up. “I
will count to five. If you don’t start talking by then, I guarantee, you will wish
you had.”

She wanted to speak, wanted to explain, but she
could barely understand her actions herself. She threw herself at his feet.

“Please, sir… Please… Please forgive me… I didn’t mean to.”

He looked down at her, irritated. “Get up.”

She supported her weight by holding on to him. This time, he didn’t
help steady or support her. He remained stoic and cold against her fragile body. She
finally managed to get to a full standing position, keeping her eyes fixated on his
chest, too terrified to meet his stare.

“Look at me, Laura.” His voice was cold, but calmer.

She was dry heaving but finally brought her eyes up to his. He
grabbed both her arms, slowly, and pushed her back against the wall. Her body was
threatening to give out any moment, held up only by his firm hold on her.

“Why did you go downstairs?”

“I don’t know… please… I’m sorry…”

He kept one hand firmly grabbing her arm, the other he slowly
brought up and closed around her neck. A gasp escaped her lips. But he didn’t apply
pressure, just left his hand there, the threat hanging.

He leaned into her ear. “You don’t know?” Cold rage echoed in his
voice. His hand tightened just a little bit on her throat.

“No… please, sir… please… I don’t know why I went downstairs… I
heard her come in… I don’t know why I went… I’m sorry… Oh god, I’m so sorry…” she
sobbed against his cheek. “Yes. You will be sorry,” he whispered menacingly into her
ear before letting go of his hold on her. He was about to turn around, but she
grabbed his arm with both of hers, desperate, knowing if she let him walk away, it
was over.

“I was jealous!” she almost screamed in agony, then softly as the
realization dawned on her. “I was jealous…”

His face stoic, he lowered his gaze to her hands holding his arm so
desperately. She let go of her hold immediately at his silent
command. He then raised his eyes to meet hers, his expression inscrutable.

“Why were you jealous?”

She looked down, remaining quiet. He let out a long exasperated
sigh.

“You know why.” Though her voice was hushed, bitterness tainted her
words.

He smiled, wickedly. “Tell me.”

“Please, sir… please… don’t make me say it.”

His sardonic laugh resonated in her ears. He took a step forward,
towering over her, their bodies at an unsettling closeness, his face so close she
could feel his breath against her skin.

“Tell me,” he commanded, his voice gruff.

She shut her eyes, unable to face the shame of admission. Her voice
quavering, she confessed, “I wanted it to be me.”

He exhaled slowly as she looked up sheepishly at him. He brought
his hand around her back, his fingers gently working their way up, through her nape
and into her hair. She sighed in relief, closed her eyes, and leaned into his
caresses. He fisted her hair into his hand, very close at the nape, and tugged
slowly, forcing her head backward and up toward his. She whimpered, opening her eyes
with surprise.

“You want me to fuck you, Laura, is that it?” he whispered huskily,
bringing his mouth to her ear.

An incoherent sound, between a moan and a cry, escaped her lips. He
pulled her head further back, forcing her body to arch into his, making her feel
even more vulnerable in this unnatural position, while allowing him a full view of
her face. Using his free hand, he caressed the outer side of her breast, could feel
her nipples hardening against his chest, hear her breath becoming ragged.

“Answer me,” he commanded yet again, his voice raspy.

“Yes…” she breathed.

“Yes. What?”

“Yes… I want you… to fuck me…” she finally
conceded, her eyes half shut, with pleasure and shame.

He emitted a low guttural sound, feeling himself harden. He pulled
her back to a standing position and, with a devilish smile, cautioned her, “I still
have to punish you for your behavior.”