Page 49 of On Your Knees

We drive for around ten minutes, and it takes a right into an older part of town, one mainly derelict due to a fire that ripped through here a few years ago. No one could afford to rebuild, and anything not affected by the fire wasabandoned a long time ago. The car pulls over in front of the old cinema, which even has a few letters hanging crookedly on the billboard from the last movie ever played here. The building is huge, dwarfing the surrounding wreckage, and it’s such a shame it was left to rot. My mom has told me stories of when she used to come here as a kid. Walking up to the doors, I find them ajar enough I can slip through. Some of the lights flicker on and off, giving off a creepy vibe in aFive Nights at Freddy’skind of way.

“Are you ready to make a movie with us?”a female voice asks from my left.

I turn and see her standing there, this time in an oversized man’s white shirt, a black belt tight around her waist, and boots. Her dark hair is pulled up into a messy bun and the mask glows in the darkness. I don’t see either of the men with her this time, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t here.

“Will you ever show me who you are?” I ask her. I obsessively watch her content, and she adds small clips and photos every day. But I can’t help overthinking why she has chosen me.

“All in good time. This is about living out your fantasies. Tell me, Arlo, what is one of yours?”

I hesitate, not knowing how to verbalize all the thoughts that have run through my head since our last encounter.

“Don’t be shy, sweetheart. We are here to serve,”one of the men says, stepping out from my right and boxing me in.

“I... I want to be fucked in the ass while my cock is buried in her pussy.”

“Then you better run,”another modulated voice says from the overhead speakers.“Because if they catch you, they get to decide what happens. But if you can keep away from them for fifteen minutes, you get to decide.”

Adrenaline sends my heart rate crazy. I leap forward and rush toward the only door available. But do I want to outrun them? I have always liked a bit of pain, though it’s usually in the form of a tattoo or a piercing, ones I only wear on occasions now, like my nose and ears, but my nipple piercing never comes out. That one really hurt and I won’t risk having to get it done twice.

Through the doors is an open room, with rows and rows of seats. A set of stairs leads down to another level with more seats and exit doors on either side at the front.

Racing forward, I reach the stairs, then descend them two at a time. The heavy thud of my footsteps on the treads echoes through the empty cinema, eventually swallowed up by the vast darkness stretching between the towering rows of suede seats. I vault over a broken armrest littering the aisle—my heart pounding and breath ragged—but I don’t stop, not yet. Not when I can hear them so close behind me. Two sets of footsteps, one light and quick, the other steady and hard. The masked woman moves quietly, while the man follows me with a taunting presence, like he knows I’ll have nowhere left to run, that he could catch me if he wanted.

I dart down more stairs, my fingers grazing the worn wooden railing as I push myself faster. The flickeringglow of the exit sign calls to me from the far side of the room, but I don’t go toward it. I want to be caught, but more, I want to make them work for it. An adrenaline-filled laugh slips past my lips, and I glance back just in time to see the masked woman launch her small body over a row of seats, closing the gap between us. The man moves slower, like a predator, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. My pulse pounds harder.

I could run. I could fight. Or I could let them catch me.

I pivot at the last second, veering toward the left exit row instead of bolting for the right door. A sharp inhale echoes behind me and I grin. They weren’t expecting that. My legs burn as I push harder, leaping down the last few steps two at a time. But the moment my foot hits the floor, I feel it—they’re close.

I twist just as the masked woman lunges. I duck, barely slipping past her outstretched fingers as I stumble into the next row of seats. A laugh rips from my chest. I want to win, but I want to lose, too.

I throw myself forward, ducking down and dodging between seats, my heart hammering against my ribs.

The masked man is ahead of me now, moving with that slow, calculated confidence, cutting off my only escape. He tilts his head slightly, a silent taunt. I could turn back, try to lose them in the maze of broken chairs, but it’s pointless. They’ve boxed me in.

The woman moves first. I feel her presence before I see her, the sharp rush of air as she closes in behind me. I spin, trying to dodge one last time, but she’s already there.A firm grip catches my wrist, yanking me back. I struggle for the fun of it, twisting in her hold, but she doesn’t let go.

Then the masked man is on me. His hands clamp onto my shoulders, forcing me back against the seat. I suck in a sharp breath, my pulse pounding in my ears as my body thrums with adrenaline.

“Caught you, sweetheart,”the woman purrs, her fingers tightening around my wrist.

I swallow hard, my chest rising and falling. A sharp inhale drags into my lungs as I’m forced back down into the seat when I try to stand. The masked woman’s grip on my wrist is strong, her fingers digging in just enough to make me aware of how easily she could cut through my skin with her nails. The masked man has moved behind me and keeps his hands firm on my shoulders. He presses down, like he’s waiting to see if I’ll fight back again or give in.

I test the hold, shifting against their grip, but it only makes the woman tighten her fingers just enough to remind me who’s in charge.

“Struggling already?”Her voice is almost teasing.

I let out a breath as I battle the overwhelm of my body’s conflicting reactions. While I should fight harder, try to get free, the truth is I don’t want to.

The masked man leans down, and his breath pushes through the mask to ghost against my ear.“We told you what would happen if you got caught. You didn’t run hard enough, did you?”

My fingers twitch as heat crawls up my spineand into my cheeks, the embarrassment spreading like wildfire. “Maybe,” I rasp, my voice coming out rougher than I expected.

The woman tilts her head, her mask concealing her face. She steps closer, the space between us dissolving as she drags a hand down my chest.“Maybe,”she repeats. Her fingers trace lower, pressing just enough to make my breath catch.“Or maybe you wanted this.”

I don’t answer. I don’t have to.

The man behind me hums low in his throat.“If you wanted to be caught,”he murmurs, his hand moving from my shoulder to my jaw and tilting my head back,“you should’ve just said so.”

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