Page 31 of His Captive

“So?” I question. “Your boss goes out and buys all these clothes for me. Invites me...no commands me, down for dinner with him. What would you do if you were me, Buddy?” I’m not just attempting to start a conversation, I generally wonder what he thinks I should do.

He thinks for a while, his mouth contorting sideways before he opens it to speak.

“I’d go down to dinner, I guess.” He lifts his shoulders as if the answer is simple.

“Are you afraid of him?” I decide not to hold back, I’m never gonna get the answers I need if I don't ask the questions.

Buddy shakes his head, his eyebrows scrunching together. He seems puzzled that I would even ask such a thing.

“Should I be afraid of him?” I probe further, his chest sags, and his shoulders fall forward.

“You shouldn’t defy him.” A sad look finds a path to his face.

“Has he done this before, with others?”

Buddy doesn’t respond.

“Have there been other girls like me Buddy? I ask again.

“Tell me. Please. I need to know.” I hear how desperate I sound, like I’m clinging to the edge of a building about to lose my grip. But I don’t care. I hang on his answer, needing to at least be prepared for what is coming.

Buddy stands up and calmly walks towards the bed, picking up a red, off the shoulder cocktail style dress that is laid out among the others.

“You should wear this one to dinner. Ethan likes red,” he tells me, his smile failing to make it to his cheeks.

“Buddy.” I reach out and grab his arm, I’m losing him to his thoughts. Memories maybe, memories that I want him to share no matter how bad they are.

“Please, just tell me.”

“I thought she’d come back to us,” he says with a pain in his voice that I feel deep in my chest. “I still do sometimes,” he continues, his long, bony fingers framing the side of my cheek. “It’s like my head is playing a trick on me,” he confesses.

“Who? Who is she? What happened to her?” I whisper, when I find the courage to ask again. I’m starting to wonder if I really want the answer after all.

“I’ve said enough,” Buddy says again, walking backward toward the door.

“Buddy wait,” I call after him, but it’s too late, he’s already gone.

Staring at all the beautiful clothes that are now on the bed, I’m so confused.

While I’d been mentally pinned here earlier, Ethan had been shopping for clothes for me.

It must have gotten the peculiar fucker off…enough to come back and do what he did.

My throat still feels sore from where he’d forced himself down it, though instead of being repulsed, I’d relished having his thick cock slip between my lips. I took pleasure in the low grunts he’d made as he emptied himself into me, it even made me leak all over the bed sheets.

There’d been so much anger on his face when he’d spat against my tongue. Something in his lack of control turned me on, gave me the urge to swallow it down when he gave it up to me. Fucked up as it sounds I felt lucky to be the recipient of his aggravation, something tells me that he doesn’t lose it very often.

The control he has over me though, is unexplainable. A little sick and a lot fucked up, I’m already becoming addicted to it. I can feel my desire to please him taking over rationality, and strange as it sounds, it makes me feel powerful.

He wants control of me, and I’m allowing him to have it.

I pick up the red dress and hang it on the front of the wardrobe. I will play Ethan Shaw’s game and be a complacent prisoner. I’ll be whatever he wants me to be. And that is how I plan on getting to the bottom of the complete mess of a situation I’ve found myself in.

A little later I start to get ready for dinner. There isn’t a hairdryer in my room so I braid my hair, hoping it will dry by the time I headed downstairs for dinner.

I’d almost choked seeing the price tags on the clothes when I’d put them away earlier. The guy seriously needs to learn how to shop around, because spending my entire weekly rent on just one underwear set seems ridiculous.

There’s a knock at the door, and Buddy walks in before I get chance to tell him it’s okay. A reminder that I’m still a prisoner, just a very elegantly dressed one.

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