Held Hostage

// After a time, you stop counting the days. You stop watching the clock, wishing to be found.After a time, you stop hoping that you will escape, stop thinking about when the trauma will begin to haunt you; you know that you have been held hostage. //


3. You're Mine

Chapter 2

For the most part, I spent the ten minutes I was allowed to shave the hairs from my body. I would not let myself be ashamed when he sees me. The steamed mirror in the glass cage shower showed my reflection. I wiped it with my fingers so that I could see myself clearly. I was getting thinner.

It was inevitable to lose some weight when I was in this prison; he would only give me water with ice cubes in the night, half an apple was sufficient in the day time. Or so he thought. I was starving, although my stomach learnt to grumble less. Sometimes, he would punch my stomach and the growling would be postponed. I used to hate him for it.

I still didn’t know why he wanted me here, so concealed, so hidden. I didn’t want to be his dirty little secret. However, I couldn’t really complain about the way he treated me, he never abused me. I wasn’t his sex slave, if that was what he wanted, he wouldn’t have had to lock anyone up for that... I couldn’t figure out why he had chosen me.

Washing the conditioner out of my locks of hair, I stepped out from the glass rectangle, my soaking body dripping rhythmically on the icy tiles. Two minutes more. Not bothering to dry my hair, I smoothed lotion onto my bare skin and wrapped a large towel around me, a smaller towel around my hair. He provided everything I needed.

I stood by where he had so gently stripped me only a few minutes ago and awaited his return. Five, four, three... I chanted in my head and as expected, his shoes could be heard on the steps down to my cell. As far as I knew, I was the only one. I couldn’t make sense of why he took such care of burying me in the blackness.

I had never spoken to him before in natural conversation. I was too afraid to ask of anything. Now, I prefer that he hasn’t heard my voice, keeping it secret, just as he has to me. The smell of coffee rose in the air and mist formed instantly around his mug as he stepped inwards. Today was different.

He pecked my cheek. “Morning babe” his breath smelt like the dark, black coffee. I wrinkled my nose up at its strength. He laughed to himself quietly “You’re so cute”. This time he pecked at my lips, his free hand pulling me close to him, causing my hands to fall onto his chest. I held myself up against him for balance and as I withdrew from him, he held me tighter “Don’t” he whispered. I was obedient.

I liked being close to him. I had got used to the way that his hands felt, how his lips fit against my skin. Somehow, I had become dependent on his touch to keep me going. It was the only reason I stayed. I needed this to be real.

I stood frozen in time, with my hands on his shirt. I could feel the muscle on his chest and carefully leaned my head onto it. I wish it wasn’t so dark; I might be able to see the spark in his eyes. We stood like this for what seemed like a lifetime, I could time his heartbeat, comparing his quick heart to my slower one.

I finally looked up at him, my eyes persistent and longing, ‘kiss me’ I told him telepathically. He held me even closer, then pushing our hot bodies backwards; we crashed against the icy walls. His kiss was strong with force and passion; I let out a small moan as he sucked hard on my neck.

I could feel his soft hands slide slowly down my back, stopping at my towel as if it was some unwanted item. Tugging at it, it fell to the floor with little effort. Once again, I was naked in front of him; there was no time to feel self conscious. His fingers moved to the more tender parts of me, tracing my v line and suddenly lower.

Teasing me around, I groaned with mixed feelings of pleasure and frustration. ‘Don’t stop’ was all I could think. I would never voice my dependency, even if I wanted to; I didn’t know his name. Forcefully, he pushed away from me, putting down his cup of coffee. “Damn babe, you shouldn’t just turn me on like that” he mumbled to the air more than me “I might not be able to stop”.

He brought me to the small glass contraption in the corner that I stepped on. He stooped down to check the result of whatever it measured. It wasn’t just weight but something else. It was all a very curious affair but that was not what was on my mind.

“Congratulations, babe” confusion ran through me. “You’re officially mine”. He almost snarled as he said it. Was this when the abuse began? I hope it wasn’t. All I wanted was more of his touch, which he always gave without measure.

Whatever this meant, it didn’t matter. I was his; there was hope. 

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