Chapter 8

My first sexual encounter. Divinity and revolt stirred my mind. I was no longer Esmeralda Jane Pierce of Saeville. No longer that sweet young barista at Joe's Café. No longer living a peaceful life of a Christian girl. Studying hard, with her head in books, drawing butterflies and minding my own business. No. That girl was long gone. You are a prisoner of sexual fantasies. And they are going to kill you.

I jolted upright, and a sharp inhale filled my lungs as a million visions washed over my head, but I plummeted back against the pillow with a sigh of relief. realizing I was safe, in bed. It was all just a dream. I dozed again, rolling over to squeeze my soft pillow. Shoving my nose into it to inhale the scent that was usually a comforting aroma of musky fruits and tangy lemon from my shampoo. But the pillow didn't smell anything like it.

Actually, it smelt of laundry detergent. My heart skipped a beat, jolting into an upright position again to let my eyes dart around the room.

This was not my pillow.This was not my bed.This was not my room. Instinctively, I rotated my wrists, believing I'd be tied up. Because I was the last time I had my eyes open. Cuffed to the wall. But I wasn't tied or bound, not even a mark remained on my body from when I did have rope around it from the basement. My head pounded. What the fuck was going on? Where was I now? I wasn't in the basement.

Had I had a blissful sleep? I felt as though I had slept for months, like a bear in a cave, hibernating in the winter months. I spun my head around, seeing the walls in the room were entirely coated black, only illuminated faintly by the moonlight shining through the window. I itched my scalp in a train of thought of what my last memory was. Damon and Ruby. I remember someone bringing me in here, down the hallway.

I think. I couldn't be sure. Though there was one thing I do remember. ‘He better not kill this one too quick.' Those words again, tearing through my heart like a serrated knife. Etching a wound in my brain in ways I didn't know was possible and it only brought my mind back to that night. The shadow man. Hovering over me as I slept before disappearing out of my window like a ghost. Appearing again three weeks later to kidnap me, with three other people. A sneaky operation, a very thought-out one at that. Caine was my lure, pretending to be the fairytale man of my dreams, sweeping me off my feet, just to put me into his trap. Like a mouse.

‘I like diamonds. You are the diamond.'

Funny, that sentence meant nothing to me then at the club when Caine had said it. But it was obvious now, that I was nothing but a little token for their appeasement. A collectable item. If he was the lure, the gang obviously needed some muscle. Lo and behold, the guy who carried me around like a bag of potatoes. Then there was Damon. What the fuck did he have to do with anything other than be an antagonising ass hole? A distraction. He distracted Tilly with his witty charm. Bile bubbled at my throat.

Gah!

What was Ruby? I couldn't pick it. Unless she was in it for the rape-fest too, assuming that's not all they got up to. My mind trailed off. Maybe they killed the girls when they got bored and then found another. Considering the overuse of the word ‘toy', I wasn't the only one they got to play with. Which left the shadow man as the brains of the organisation, the one behind all this. The fucking ass hole. What he was doing was sick.

How was he not behind bars? My stomach churned. He was the one who kidnapped me, he was the one who wanted me in the first place, so why the fuck wasn't he here? Where was he now? Nowhere to be seen. I needed to get the fuck out of here. I leapt out of the bed I was placed in, finding the nearest door to run to, and almost falling flat to my face. Mind to limb malfunction, as always.

The darkness in the room made it almost impossible to see. I needed to find a light switch. I made contact with a door. Oh please, God, let it be the way out. I jiggled the handle, kicked at the door, pushed at it, pulled it, yanked it, hit it, but the handle didn't budge. No matter how hard I tried. My heart pounded.

"HELP! SOMEBODY PLEASE LET ME OUT!" I yelled to the top of my lungs, but the only response I got was my own warm, rapid breath panting back against me. Fuck. I tapped my hands against the walls looking for a light switch. Once I found it, I flicked the switch and the black walls sparked to life, a soft yellow light blazing from the chandelier on the ceiling. Darting my eyes across the room, I ran to the oversized arched window that led to a balcony. Maybe I could jump off and run.

The window was draped with red velvet Victorian-style curtains on each side and thick shiny gold tassels, pinning them to the sides of the window. But just like the door, the windows handle did not budge. I froze at the pale white reflection in the mirror, realizing I was still very naked. My breath hitched, and I shifted my focus to what was behind it the other side of the window. I was up high and on a very large scale property overlooking the same forest of pine trees I saw when I was thrown over the shoulders of the tatted-up hulk when he pulled me from the trunk.

I ran back to the door again, trying my luck at turning the handle once more, maybe I didn't do it right. But I had, it didn't free me this time either. It was then, I noticed a pad beside the door. A digital finger pad. Offucking course. I gave it a tap with my finger and a red LED light flashed at my finger. Great. Obviously I wasn't going to be granted freedom. Why would I? They had made it clear I was a hostage. Fuck.

But why the change from a fucking cold dark basement, to here? Reality set in, and tears began to stream down my face. I sobbed hard between each painful gasp of air, truly letting myself tumble into a miserable weep now that I was finally alone. I slid myself down to the ground with my back against the door, my body trembling through the tears and the walls closed in around me.

After what felt like hours of crying, my eyes left burning and puffy, I needed to get up, take a look around at my new prison. I was somewhat thankful I was at the very least here. Unbound, alone, in a clean room, rather than in the rotting cage that smelt like stale pee. Or worse, my lips around an enormous cock. Be thankful it wasn't your fucking pussy.

I scolded at my foul language. Up until recently, I had never sworn in my life. After I wallowed in what was my self-pity, I got up and yanked the crisp black sheet off the bed, wrapping it around me so that I needn't spend another second naked. There was another door, the other side of the room that I hadn't noticed earlier, a slider door. It concealed a huge bathroom. I tapped around at the wall looking for a switch.

Finding a strip of plastic that felt something like a light switch, I flicked my finger over it. Whatever I tapped at was not a switch for a light. It was a screen and it beeped to life. Written on the screen were a few prompts.

Shower 1 + more

Shower 2 + more

Bath + more

I flipped the light switch and turned around, seeing there was a huge black circular stone bath centred in the middle of the room. I creased a brow.

"Pfft." It was completely impractical, and it had no tap. There was a black marble bench top the entire length of the room, complimented by a mirror that sunk into the wall from the bench to the ceiling. The reflection looking back at me was worse than the one I caught sight of in the window. I was as pale as a ghost and visibly exhausted, far from how I"d originally looked at the club. Far from my true self, even. I mean, I'd seen myself anaemic. The sleepless nights had taken their toll on me, and my body, but this? This was far worse.

My hair was tangled and frayed. What was once full of volume and life could now de-thread from a stiff breeze. I even looked like a prisoner. I tugged at the dark circles under my eyes, glowing red from crying so damned hard for so long. And peeking above the sheet wrapped around me, was a little raised pink and yellow welt. A burn. Embedded in my skin above my breast from Ruby's lighter.

I winced as I hovered my finger over the wound, immense heat brewing from the surface. Now that it had crossed my mind, the dull ache grew. A tear slipped from my eye again.

The stone basin was fitted with gold tapware, circular like the bath. I trailed my index finger across the soft, fluffy deep red and black towels wrapped in a tight bundle under the bench. They felt expensive, much like the rest of the room. This was no ordinary prison cell. Settled next to the basin was a gold basket with a hairdryer, a black toothbrush and a tube of charcoal tooth paste. Like I was in a fancy hotel.

And everything was strategically black. I creased a brow and continued scanning the room. The shower was at the back, tucked behind a floor-to-ceiling pane of glass. Come to think of it, a blistering-hot shower would be really nice right now. To wash away my sins. Let them float down the drain, as well as my self-pity.

It was a double-headed shower, with no doors or tap, just like the bath. Why have a bath or shower if you can't use them? Then I remembered the little prompters on the screen. I ushered back to the screen and tapped on it again.

Out of curiosity, I clicked on the "bath" tab. The device chimed a melody and opened another menu. I couldn"t help but scold myself for fiddling. But curiosity always got the better of me. The screen displayed another section of prompts.

Temperature

Bubbles

Lights

Autofill

Rain fill

I clicked on the rain fill button, and another chime from the screen was made, followed by a mechanical hum from the ceiling. Then by the sound of water flowing through pipes. I swallowed hard, and my stomach fluttered, shit. What the fuck did I just do? Droplets formed at the little gold metal cavity sunken in the ceiling and fell like rain on a stormy day. Straight into the centre of the bath. It was loud.

"Shit, shit, shit." I panicked, tapping frantically at the screen in attempt to turn it off.

The darned thing finally lulled, and the sounds of the water droplets fell quiet again. My sigh of relief echoed through the room. The last thing I needed was to drag attention to myself prying where I shouldn't, or to flood the place that had no escape route. That would be my luck. Temptation was my worst nightmare. I never seemed to have a moral compass when I needed it. Drowning wasn't on my bucket list of ways to go down.

Come to think if it, neither was being kidnapped and held hostage by a sociopath and his group of masked sociopathic buddies that liked to do weird sexual things…

And kill people. That definitely wasn't on my bucket list. I scolded myself mentally as the visual of Damon's flushed pink, veiny pierced length in my mouth scrummaged into my brain without permission. Again, completely losing sight of that damn fucking moral compass.

Gah!

I splayed my hands each side of the basin, leaning closer to the mirror and staring into my tired emerald eyes. Quarrelling with myself. "You. What the fuck is wrong with you? Get a grip!" I snapped, and with a mighty huff, I swung my arm out, planting the palm of my hand firm against my cheek. The sting pierced my pale skin with friction, leaving a flushed hand pattern where my hand collided. I sobbed again. There. That should just about do it. Smack some fucking sense into you.

I took in the view of the room I was held hostage in, seeing that it was huge. And dare I say it, stunning. Despite every inch of the place being completely black, it didn't feel dull or cold. A low sigh fell from my mouth, pushing aside my intrusive thoughts yet again. The room was Victorian-styled, though the building didn't appear old. The Wainscot walls complimented the modern décor with the finishings throughout the room of gold, black, and blood-red.

The carpet was darker than the night sky and as soft as feathers between my toes. I wandered to a closet the other side of the room, and as I suspected, it too was over-sized and all black, with red LED lighting throughout and gold trims. Both sides of the walk-in closet were blessed with ample hanging space, shelves, drawers, and a glass cabinet with a shelf for jewellery and shoes. But everything was empty.

It made no sense. Normally when people are kidnapped, they're taken to a secret location in a cage like I was in, wallowing in your own pee with the fate of being beaten up, raped, and or killed. So why was I here? That was anyone's guess. In attempt to cool my heated face, and to shut my racing mind up, I gazed out the window. My forehead propped against the cool glass, unable to feel the late spring breeze that I could only imagine flowed through the pine trees.

Wherever home was, it was long gone. And before I had a chance to stop them, the tears poured down my face once more. So much for trying to calm oneself.