17. Ava

17

AVA

The smell of fresh bacon and pancakes wafted from a tray has been placed on the settee at the end of the bed. Looking around the room, ensuring no one is going to jump from the shadows, I tentatively reach for my meal. The tray is arranged beautifully, so rich in color it almost seems a shame to disrupt it. Shrugging, starving, I dive in. Hoping that the small kraft holds coffee, I eat in absolute peace. The moment is one-eighty from the day before.

Breathing deep, I drift back to my scrub session in the shower after Kiel's departure. The tears were as crusty as the body fluids that covered my skin. Stepping into the scalding hot water, hoping that the temperature would burn away the touch, the memories, and the ghostly sensation of unfamiliar hands roaming my body. I came to the realization that Cal used me, and maybe - just maybe - my brothers have no idea where I am. This sends a tendril of fear through me, which leads me to form a new plan.

I let myself have twenty-four hours of selfish self-harm plots. Feeling sorry for myself gets me nowhere. Knowing that I would never be in the hands of Kiel if it weren't for Cal, I get angry at my brothers, at Cal, and most of all myself. Anger is so much better to work with than sorrow and pity parties. With a new determination to face this shit hand I've been dealt, I step out of the hot comforting spray.

Grabbing the shampoo, dumping it in my hands I start to clean my hair, still thinking how I can live through this. Drowning in my wayward, jumbled thoughts as I move from conditioner to body wash, I don't hear that I have company. A warm hand runs down my back, causing a quiet shrill of shock to escape me as I whip around rapidly. I lose my balance in the process; my naked wet chest plants firmly into Kiel's hard and equally naked chest.

I try to push away as he tugs me closer. "Let me help you, my sweet pet." Lesson learned, I don't shake my head like I want to. This was my inner sanctum for peace and healing, and he shattered it. Gritting my teeth, I silently hand over the cloth and soap. Smiling at my obedience, he takes the cloth while twirling his finger in the air, indicating that I turn and give him my back. Slowly turning, he methodically and efficiently cleans my body. Now clean, I turn to grab the towel, but he stops me. I watch as he cleans his body with my used cloth before rinsing, all while that delirious smile never leaves his lips.

"I'm so very happy today." Not knowing if this is a trap, I say nothing. He steps out, snatching a towel and dries himself quickly. His eyes never leave my body. I can see there is a spark of something lingering in his eyes as he reaches his hand out to help me from the shower. I take his hand and wait for his next directive. A huge grin stretches over Kiel's face, proving submissiveness is what he yearns for.

"Good girl," he whispers as he steps closer. He gently dries me with an almost unknown reverence and passively leads us out of the bathroom. Stopping near the bed, he flicks his wrist toward it, another silent directive that I heed. Crawling on the mattress, I turn to lay on my back, but he stills my movement.

"I want to watch my cock sink into your warm and welcoming pussy between these two globes," Kiel sharply grabs my ass before slapping my cheeks. I silently sigh, hating him with every fiber of my being. I want to turn around, lash out and gouge his eyes out. But I am truly afraid of what my punishment would be. Instead, I brace myself for whatever games he deems need to happen this time.

"We will come together every day," he groans, shoving a digit in me. "Every. Single. Day." Each word punctuated with him thrusting into me. "Our children will have your beauty. But they will lead as I have." His finger is quickly replaced with his cock as he continues speaking his fantasy. "My pet, we will fuck ourselves into delirium until you are round with my heir." He slams into me with so much force that my back bows with anguish. "Oh, my sweet pet, you bring me so much pleasure …"

Happily pounding my sorely abused body, Kiel takes little notice of the change in the air. He doesn't know that those words catapult me into a fake submission - a submission that will grant me the freedom I desperately seek.

Feeling my lax body, Kiel must believe the lie I'm formulating, the plan that is going to hook into his very soul and be the reason he crumbles and disappears. Taking a deep breath, I do what I never thought I would do: I play along in his game. But my game is one of vengeance and freedom.

Allowing my mind to wander to a time where sex was everything I imagined it to be, I pretend that I am there with that person … with Cal. I tentatively rock back, reaching for my own pleasure and laying the groundwork for my escape.

Kiel's rhyme stutters with my bold action. Waiting for him to catch up, I put my fingers on my own clit, circling it how I like it and moaning in rapture while rocking on him. The action is meant to encourage him, silently asking him to fuck me. A gush of wetness floods him. His control snaps finally and he relentlessly pounds me.

I don't fight my orgasm, instead welcoming it as it engulfs me. Drowning in the aftermath, I hear Kiel roar out his release. I lay there panting as he gives me his entire weight. Sickness coils in the depths of my belly, but I hush it. This is how I will survive. I will trick him into believing that I have agreed. I will silence my anger, my fear and my trepidation - if I can survive.

That is the only thing that matters.

After whispering words of praise, Kiel dresses and leaves. I don't bother with clothes. Carefully walking back to my ensuite, I turn on the shower, jump in, and scrub my body with soap and scalding hot water. When I finally feel like I am clean, I plot.

The scheming begins. Coming up with hundreds of strategies and then methodically thinking it out, and realizing they are all crap. Frustration takes hold. The pacing starts. I have nothing to help my nerves, nothing that will help me think everything out. What I wouldn't do to paint and dump all these emotions onto the canvas. Maybe then I could fucking plan this shit out.

Snarling at my lack of solutions, my fingers wind into my hair ready to yank it out. I jolt to a stop. Gah, so dumb Ava! It hits me; it's so simple, of course. I keep my farce of ‘loving' Kiel's disgusting attention and play the part of the perfect woman who wants … no needs him. Then, he will lax his guard. Not only drop his guard with me, allowing me to get closer to him, but he might lax his guards who watch me like dogs.

This is a long game. Can I wait this long? Maybe I can trick one of the guards - convince him a stroll to the kitchen would be beneficial for my health and allow me to pick out my own meal. There are pros and cons. I need this plan to work. I'm desperate to leave here. I know the obstacles after getting free from this mansion of misery are still there, but one fucking thing at a time.

Slowly, I go over how and when, knowing that the guards are lighter in the evening. More importantly, that sadistic day guard will be off shift and sleeping, which helps ease my mind. Decision made. Once I see the moon high in the night sky, I will knock on my door and humbly request a late night snack. I pray the night sentry will fall for my woe-is-me act. Since most of the house is asleep, I can use that as a pro for letting me walk to the kitchens under his watchful eye. Once there, I hope that my stealth along with my bashfully compliant behavior, will relax his attitude, allowing me to hide a deadly weapon.

This idea has merit.

Dinner is brought to me. Putting the plan into action, I allow the staff to bring in the dinner. Standing in the far corner of the room, gazing out the window, I slump my shoulders and rub my stomach, groaning and mumbling nonsense. The person who brought the dinner cart stops to look at me. I wipe my forehead, fanning myself giving the illusion that I am unwell.

I wait for them to come grab the meal that I purposely left untouched. They arrive while I am bundled under layers of bedding pretending to be asleep. The sun slowly sets; the hours pass by at a snail's pace, but I know that I need to get my wits about me. This is for my freedom. I can do this. Taking a deep breath, I peek from beneath the mounds of cloth surrounding me. The sky is pitch black, stars twinkle in the sky.

I quietly tiptoe to the door, putting my ear against it. Maybe through the thick wooden door I could hear that the house had finally settled. But there is nothing. Grinding my teeth at the expensive door, I shake it off and remind myself: ‘You are meek. You are playing a role. But you will survive this'. Taking a breath to get in my persona, I gently twist the knob.

As the door cracks, the guard on duty whips around. "What are you doing?" I thank my lucky stars that it is the nicer of the guards - not sure what that says about the sadistic assholes Kiel has on staff, but at least he doesn't threaten me right off.

Forcing my voice to crack, I ask: "Ca-can, I have a meal? My stomach is feeling much better." Standing there staring at my toes, I don't want to give my ill intent away with a slip of an expression. Dragging my toes against the plush soft carpet, wanting to give the illusion of being compliant. "I … um don't think I can wait ‘til morning. I p-promise to be on my best behavior."

I hear his sigh of frustration more than see it, then he grunts. "Fine. Follow me." I subtly nod my head in agreement, internally jumping with excitement. Tapping it down, I wait for him to start walking before following him.

When we make it to the kitchen, he flicks his wrist in the direction of the pantry. "Help yourself but do so quickly. You will eat in your room."

Softly smiling at him, I whisper a "thank you." Deciding on a sandwich, I duck into the pantry to grab the bread and the chips. Dropping the dry goods on the counter, I quietly and frantically search. I find nothing in plain view, letting out a breath when I finally spot what I need.

The knife block is sitting just to the right of the coffee machine. Turning, I pull out a plate and ask the guard: "Can you grab the meat and cheese from the fridge?" As he opens the fridge and dips out of sight, I take my chance. Lightning fast, I grab the knife, lifting my shirt and tucking it into the waistband of my panties, before quickly re-tying my robe as he pops back up with his findings.

Anger flashes over his features, "You whore," he growls. "You lied." He tosses the sandwich fixings on the counter, stomping towards me with malice rolling off him in waves. I turn to protect myself from his attack as he reaches for me, squeezing my eyes tight and waiting with bated breath for the first hit of violence, but hoping that maybe he will just snatch me up, drag me back to my room, and not beat me.

No pain. No rough hands. Nothing. Then a muted thud reaches my ears. I whip around, eyes rounding, my head snaps up to the person standing behind him. The air fumbles from my lungs.

It's him .

Taking a step back, bumping into the counter, I look at the slumped guard. Vermillion spills from his neck, coating the floor slowly seeping out. I feel no sorrow for the loss of this soul.

The stranger steps over the body, gently places his hand on my elbow to steer me out of the kitchen. No words are spoken as we make our way back to my gilded prison.

The door is in sight when he quietly whispers: "Keep your head on a swivel. Don't let your guard down. Your wits are imperative to your survival."

I stumble at his directive, mumbling more to myself than him: "What?"

Reaching my door, he opens it and gently pushes me. He stops just shy of closing the door. "Don't make any moves that will risk your survival. Until you know it's the right time, and then do what it is you must to live."

"Thanks," I hurriedly muttered as he shut the door, leaving me wondering what the hell just happened. Knowing it's best to take his words to heart, I rush to the bed and hide my newly acquired weapon. Tucking myself into the bed, I reach up, sliding my hand between the mattress and the headboard. I wrap my hand around the warmth of the wooden knife handle. This small comfort alleviates some of my fear … now to plan and wait.