Chapter 7

Summer couldn't pull it together. She was falling apart. Her head was so messed up. Right and wrong were confusing her. And most importantly, she didn't want these kind men to send her away. She needed to suck it up and stop acting like a lunatic before they changed their minds and called the cops.

She drew a deep breath and held it, forcing herself to stop blubbering. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll be good. I promise."

"You do not need to be good, baby," Bridger said firmly. "No one is going to judge you or punish you here. It's okay to cry. You don't need to be strong for us." He tipped her head back and held her face, forcing her to look at him.

She couldn't stop the tears, but she pursed her lips to control the sobbing.

"We're going to help you. Do you understand?"

She stared at him. It was impossible to trust that they would really help her. What about tomorrow and the day after? She wasn't going to wake up all fixed tomorrow. She wasn't even going to be able to sleep on that bed they probably expected her to use.

"Summer," Colter said firmly at her side. He set a hand on her back. He had also squatted down to her level. "We're going to help you," he repeated.

"Why? I'm no one. I'm just some fucked-up girl you found chained to a bed. You don't have any obligation to help me. I'm not even sure I can be fixed. Maybe you could just get me something to wear, and I'll get out of your hair. I'll find a job and a place to stay and…" She didn't believe a word she spoke. Find a job? Was she kidding? She couldn't even wear a T-shirt without feeling like she was going to crawl out of her skin.

"You're not going anywhere, baby," Bridger assured her. "You're going to stay with us until you're stronger and ready to move on. We have the space. We will find you the help you need when you're ready."

She pressed her body tighter against him. She hadn't been held with kindness for so long that she was desperate for human contact—decent human contact.

"We'll take baby steps, honey," Colter encouraged. "Can you do that? One thing at a time. Focus on using the bathroom alone. Pee, wipe, wash your hands. That's it. Then we'll come back in."

"I can do that." She wasn't sure she could, but she wanted to be stronger. She wanted to be normal. She wanted her life back. These two men were offering her that.

It was totally unexpected. When the handler had chained her to the bed in that house, she'd expected a stern Master to eventually come through the door and take over her life in a cruel fashion. She'd expected him to rape her. She'd expected to service him in every way, unlikely able to please him. That's what she'd been prepared for.

Not this. Not this gift.

She met Colter's gaze and nodded. These two men were going to save her. They'd told her so over and over, and she had to trust they would keep their word, at least for a while.

Bridger Arnoult was not a sixty-year-old fat rich asshole who intended to keep her on her knees with her mouth wrapped around his disgusting cock. That's what she'd been prepared for.

Bridger wasn't old at all. He and Colter were in their mid-thirties. They were unbelievably attractive men—both of them. They were tall, strong, built, and kind. Bridger had thick brown hair, brown eyes, and tanned skin. Colter was blond with clear blue eyes. His skin was a shade lighter than Bridger's. Next to her, they both looked dark. She'd always been pale, but after sixteen months spent mainly in a basement, she was whiter than ever.

All she needed to do right now was pee. How fucked up was she that the task seemed insurmountable?

Bridger helped her to her feet. "We'll wait outside. We won't even close the door."

"Thank you." She watched as they both stepped into the bedroom and out of sight around the corner.

She started shaking immediately. Until last night, she hadn't been alone in sixteen months—not for a moment—except for the times she'd been restrained, but even then, someone had usually watched her either physically or through one of the many cameras in the house.

Pee. You can do it. She hurried over to the toilet, pulled some paper off the roll, and sat. Holding the T-shirt up, she closed her eyes and tried to relax her bladder. No one was watching her. No one was waiting to wipe her pussy.

She shuddered as she finally let her bladder relax. When she was done, she quickly reached between her legs to dab at the wetness. As ridiculous as it was, she didn't linger.

A part of her didn't trust that any of this was really happening. Had she really been rescued by the most unlikely man—her new Master? She wasn't willing to take the chance and break rules out of the fear that she might end up back in Master J's possession. There, she would be severely punished. He'd done it before. She knew how ruthless the man could be if she didn't obey him.

She started hyperventilating as she washed her hands, and moments later, both men showed up at her sides.

"Summer? What's wrong, baby?" Bridger asked. "You did it. It's okay." He squirted more soap on his fingers and washed hers for her, helping her rinse before Colter held out a hand towel and dried their combined hands.

Colter and Bridger had an odd relationship she couldn't wrap her head around. They were a couple, but they also liked women…? And Colter was more in charge. At least, she thought so.

Colter was the one to choose a pink toothbrush from the drawer, open the package, and put toothpaste on it. He tipped her chin back. "Open for me, honey." And then he brushed her teeth for her. It was so intimate and kind her knees nearly buckled.

What made it even more special was that of all the things Summer hadn't been permitted to do, including wipe her own butt, she had been allowed to brush her teeth. Letting Colter do it didn't trigger her. She liked the way he delicately held her chin and carefully cared for her as if she were made of spun gold.

"Rinse, baby," Bridger encouraged when Colter was done. He held a small cup to her lips.

When her knees really did buckle, he wrapped his arm around her waist under her breasts and kept her upright. "Swish and spit."

She did as he instructed, every bit of her overwhelmed by the kindness from these two men who could just as easily have ordered her to suck them off, fed her nothing else, and made her sleep in the bathroom.

Colter wiped her lips, and Bridger lifted her into his arms to carry her into the bedroom. Colter pulled the covers back on the bed, and Bridger settled her in the middle before pulling the blanket over her.

"You need sleep, baby," he stated as he sat on the edge.

She didn't have the heart to tell him there was no way she could sleep on something this soft and comfortable, no way she could sleep with expensive blankets over her, a shirt on, or her arms and legs pulled into her body. "Thank you."

Colter set his palm on the top of her head and leaned over to kiss her forehead. "Sleep."

She watched them both leave the room before she let panic take over. They left the door ajar and the lights on in the hallway. She knew they would immediately move someplace where they couldn't be heard and start talking about her.

That part didn't bother her, but the moment they were gone, she climbed out of the bed, pulled the T-shirt off, and stood shaking in the middle of the room. She took several deep breaths now that nothing was touching her.

She spread her feet shoulder-width apart, clasped her hands behind her head, and pulled her shoulders back. She needed to ground herself. This was the only way she knew how.

Dropping her head, she closed her eyes and took deep breaths. Nothing was touching her. No one was in the room. The fact that no one was ogling her or making snide comments was weird but welcome. It was difficult to block out what she was used to, though.

"Her tits are so fucking perfect. Look at them. Small and pink and round."

"You can touch them but no pinching or twisting." Master J's voice came through as usual in her head. She never knew who the other voices came from. She never knew the men or their names. She never looked them in the eye because if she did so, she would be punished.

"Spread your legs wider, cunt."

"Is her cunt wet?"

"Bend over, cunt. Pull your cheeks apart so we can see your puckered asshole."

"God, I'd love to sink my cock into that tight cunt."

Laughter. So much laughter. She'd hated the laughter more than anything. The sound had crawled up her spine and made her shudder.

"I need to taste her."

"You're welcome to taste her, but keep your fingers out of her. No penetration. Her cunt is untouched. And don't let her come."

Daffodil squeezed her eyes closed, unable to stop the running commentary. Summer. My name is Summer. No one is here to touch me.

Trembling, she forced herself to open her eyes, lower her arms, and pace the room. She tried to shake off the memories, but they persisted. Being alone wasn't helping.

She needed to find a way to behave like a normal human being so Colter and Bridger wouldn't become exasperated and decide they couldn't deal with her. She rubbed her temples. The incident in the bathroom couldn't happen again. Normal people peed without an audience and wiped their own fucking asses.

Both men had been so tender with her. Even before she'd been abducted, she hadn't known many men who treated women with such respect. Her father had, but he was gone.

The kindest thing anyone had ever done for her in several years had been Colter brushing her teeth. Or maybe Bridger washing her hands. She was irrationally growing attached to two men she'd only met a few hours ago after expecting a tyrannical Master instead of two decent men.

Summer wandered over to the window and looked out. It was so pretty. They were up so high. The city was lit up with twinkling lights. People were down there, going through their ordinary lives. They were in apartments across from this one, watching television, eating dinner, and laughing.

Bridger had told her no one could see in the windows in the kitchen. She assumed that applied to this room, too. It was hard for her to even care. She'd had no privacy for sixteen months. Dozens of men had stared at her naked body. Her sense of modesty was completely fucked up.

She turned around, knowing she should find a way to sleep. She'd never been so tired. After not sleeping well for over a year, she hadn't slept more than a few minutes at a time last night, uncertain when her master would come for her and if he would be angry to find her sleeping.

After assessing her options, she lowered herself onto the large oval rug next to the bed, stretched out on her back, and spread her arms and legs out wide. This was her safest option. If, by chance, Bridger and Colter were on the phone with the police right now, and she got sent back to Master J, at least she could tell him she'd slept in the proper position without lying. Maybe he would be more lenient with her if he knew she'd tried to obey his rules even in his absence.

It was chilly in this room, but she was used to being cold. The basement where she'd slept at Master J's house had been damp and cold. The blanket she'd been permitted to use had been itchy and had smelled bad. She'd learned it was easier to sleep without it than with it.

The other women had tried hard to stay perfectly still all night so the blanket wouldn't slide off them, but Summer had thought it was worse than nothing and trained herself to ignore the cold. She could do that tonight, too.

She took several deep breaths, in and out. She'd done this often to cope. Why did she not feel safe even though she was no longer in captivity?

It was impossible to trust anyone and even more difficult to trust that she wasn't dreaming. If she woke up in this same location tomorrow morning, maybe she'd be able to trust that her luck had changed.