Page 20 of Not Another Dark Romance

Once he’s finished, I dump that and get the hand sanitizer out from the hardware store bag, using some before offering it to Mason.

“Really?” He has the audacity to look at me like I’m the crazy one.

“What? You don’t want some?”

“Oh, I do. I just think it’s cute you keep pretending like you’re going to kill me, but you want me to wash my hands before I eat.”

“I don’t want to deal with you getting sick before I’m ready,” I insist. “What if I got sick too?”

“Whatever you say, Murder Daddy.”

“Oh my god, just shut up and eat your damn food or I’ll stop feeding you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mason uses the hand sanitizer, then I pass him his sandwich. Instead of biting into it normally, he attempts to eat it suggestively. At least, I think that’s what he’s going for with all the eye contact, slow-motion bites, and moaning. His commitment to being into this situation is honestly impressive, but I guess we’re both fighting for our freedom here, and he’s just chosen a really strange way to do it.

I set up the pump to inflate the air mattress, throw on the extra pillows and blanket I also got for him because it seemed weird to only have the mattress, then quickly eat my sandwich like a normal person, finishing before him. “Hurry up so I can switch you to the bed and take Pete out before I need to leave.”

Those words finally motivate him to finish. When he’s done, I give him the plastic cup of water I left on the stairs, and he chugs that with more dramatic moaning. There’s been so much moaning since I’ve been here that my dick has twitched a couple of times. I remind myself that this is an insane situation that I need to be taking seriously, and despite what he keeps implying, and the similarities it might share with the porn I watch, it’s not actually an elaborate kinky setup. I’m not turned on by him specifically.

“If I put the long chain between these handcuffs around the pole, and the mattress next to it, I think you can lay on it comfortably.”

Mason smirks. “There are much easier ways to get me in bed, ya know?”

I sigh and undo one side of his cuffs, wrap it around the pole, and reattach it. The chain part between the cuffs is strong enough to keep him there even if he moves it up and down the pole. Now he can stand, sit, or lie down on the bed if he wants.

Next, I head upstairs and practically nudge Pete out the door, walking him around until he finally goes to the bathroom. Seems like neither Pete nor Mason are ever in a rush for anything. I head back downstairs one more time to make sure Mason’s still where I left him, just in case, and he is.

“I’ll be back around ten,” I inform him. No idea why I feel the need to update him on everything, but this whole situation is so awkward, and I think I’d like communication if I was in his position.

“Can’t wait,” he responds, cheery as ever.

So fucking weird.

9

Being kidnapped is fucking boring. I’m losing my mind while I wait for Zane to get home from yet another one of his shifts. Why the hell does he work so much? What’s he saving for? He already has a house and all the sex supplies he could need.

Every day since he brought me here and tied me to a chair in his basement, he has continued to feed me, give me water, and help me go to the bathroom without so much as a single “I think we should try your plan, Mason, let’s role-play.”

Zane keeps telling me that he’ll kill me when he’s off work on Tuesday, except I don’t know what fucking day it is since he covered the window with that shitty plywood.

He’s started leaving the basement door open, though, for Piet to roam the house as he pleases, and once again, I’m jealous of my dog while my only reprieve is the few minutes I get to flirt with Zane every day. Maybe I should tone it down since he said he’s straight, but I’m fucking bored, and flirting is one of the only simple joys I have right now. Besides, he’s never seriously told me he’s not into it.

My wrists are killing me from the handcuffs, and walking around has never sounded better. I’m also super horny. We need to come to some sort of agreement because spending my “final days” tied to this pole with no release isn’t cutting it. If he’s not going to fuck my face, he could at least let me jerk off one last time. That sounds reasonable.

Piet barks from his spot upstairs, and I perk up. Zane must be home.

“Daddy! Kidnap Daddy, your victim is down here, and he needs yooou,” I call out. Zane bangs around upstairs—always so loud—before I hear the back door open and close. Must be Piet’s time to go outside and run around like the free man he is. I love that he’s taking such good care of my dog though. He’s clearly a good person even if he’s insisting he’s going to kill me.

Zane makes his way down the steps, and I focus on turning on the charm to get him to let me experience even a fraction of the freedom Piet has.

“What?” he sighs at me.

“Well, that’s no way to greet me. I missed you, and I know you missed me too. You keep coming back to me.”

He rolls his eyes, but the glare he used to aim at me days ago has definitely morphed into a slight smirk. “You’re so fucking weird. I have to come back, unless you want me to let you starve to death down here?”