Page 37 of His Keepsake

Was Axl also messing with my head?

I hadn’t arranged for two Doms. Charity hadn’t said anything about two.

She would have said. Unless she didn’t know what he intended? What better way to scare me than this.

Or I’d found the one man willing to share a kidnapping victim with a like-minded friend. What were the odds of that? I didn’t know, and since statistics weren’t going to pop up before me in a Google search, maybe I should do something.

Now that I was unsupervised, I could try to get out of this mummifying wrap. I didn’t know where they had gone and could hear almost nothing past the plastic over my ears, but I tried listening and lifted my head off the floor.

Only the roaring in my ears came to me.

This plastic wrap must be stretchy. I strained with both arms and felt the stuff give way just a little. Twisting my wrists also made it move. I started to try in earnest, grunting, probably going red in the face, using all the muscle power I possessed.

I wasn’t super strong, but the plastic gave way more and more. I wriggled my shoulders, wormed about on the floor. With a final twist, my hands were free, and I brought them forward. The chest wrapping came off next.

I reached up to pull off the blindfold, dropped it to the floor along a few wrenched-out strands of hair. Then I listened. I could hear voices, but they were far way, somewhere out the back of the house.

If these weren’t the man, or men, I’d arranged, I should go. I should run before I ended up dead and fucking buried. It was sensible. And, of course, there was the urge to stay and be made to do whatever it was they wanted me to do…to be used, deviantly, wickedly, with extreme prejudice, and a lot of orgasms. Or even some almost-there orgasms.

The urge to stay wasn’t normal or a survivor trait.

Having pushed myself into a sitting position, I shook my head to get my shit together and shake off the disorientation of having been blind and mostly deaf. With both hands, I wiped leftover tears off my face. Then I leaned over to undo the plastic around my ankles, at which point I heard footsteps scuff nearby. Too near.

Panicking, I twisted and peeked over my shoulder. I flinched at what I saw.

Both men stood at the doorway that led into the wide room beyond.

“Hello, pretty girl.” Mr. Scott walked over and squatted, stroked his fingers up my spine until he reached my neck. “Going somewhere?”

Axl waited behind him, tall and looming, with a broad smile twisting into place. His tousled brown hair made him look a sweet angel of a man. Of course, I knew better. He winked at me.

“What are we going to do with this creature, Mr. Scott? Did I tell you to move?”

Slowly, with dread creeping over my heart, I shook my head.

“Poor girl. He made a mess of you. We might need to hose you again.” Mr. Scott dug his fingers into my neck muscles. He drew a circle in the air with his other hand, and slowly I scooted around to face him, lip caught in my teeth.

I was trembling. Fear went hand in hand with my absurd needs.

Cupping my breast, he tut-tutted as he gently brushed where it stung the most.

“Nice fingernail marks, Axl. Say, I’m sorry for moving when not told to.”

I searched both their faces, unsure what I was looking for. Axl did nothing except cock an eyebrow. I guess I took too long to respond because I felt Mr. Scott close his fingers over one nipple and pull it outward, crushing it severely. I yelped and winced, lurching forward as far as was possible, hissing when the pain continued. Two eyes gleamed at me as he leaned in until he was inches away.

“Fuck, fuck. Stop! Please?” I clenched my hands onto my thighs, to prevent myself from wrenching away or clawing him. The painful stretching continued until we were nose to nose.

“Words,” he reminded me.

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