Evil!Lijie fic: Beauty and the Beast (2/?)
TITLE: Beauty and the Beast
Chapter 2: Perverted Types of Motion
AUTHOR: Mnemosyne
Disclaimer: This story is VERY fictional. Absolutely nothing that happens in this story happened in real life; it is entirely a derivation of my sick mind. Maggie Grace and Elijah Wood are their own people who lead happy, well-defined lives of content sanity. Their characters and backgrounds as portrayed in this story are utterly, purely fiction. No offense is intended to either actor or their families!
SUMMARY: Maggie is the heiress to a windfall fortune, and Elijah is her creepy kidnapper. See what ensues.
RATING: R - NC-17 in later chapters
WARNING: This story will contain elements of non-consensual sex. If this disturbs you or makes you uncomfortable, I urge you not to read this story. I'm not here to make anyone feel uncomfortable -- I don't want to cause you undue duress!
NOTES:
Chapter two! Things start to get hotter and more uncomfortable in this chapter; so please, heed my warnings!
DEDICATION:
To all the wonderful people who answered my plea for Evil!Lijie icons, because they were so inspiring! I honestly couldn't choose a favorite -- I'll have to use them on a revolving basis! And to itsyogyrl, who made a KILLER Evil!Lijie mix that absolutely kicked me in the pants and got this chapter finished. Shower her with praise!
Previous Chapters: (1)
Maggie choked as he took his hand away from her mouth, releasing her neck. "Wh… What do you mean, bought me?" she demanded, refusing to give in to the tears that threatened to fall.
Elijah stood up slowly, and she was struck by how much his movements resembled a snake. "You're worth millions, Maggie," he said politely. "I think you understand the concept of supply-side economics. Supply and demand? There's a demand for a product, someone else supplies it, money changes hands and everybody's happy. Well, not everybody. The supply is pretty miserable most of the time; but that changes after a while."
"You're talking about white slavery, you sick pig," she spat.
"If you want to call it that. Though really, the market's open to white, black, asian… White Slavery is such a racist term."
"You stand there, telling me you bought me, and you're preaching about political correctness?" A mixture of rage and fear seethed in her veins. "People SAW you take me. They'll find you, and when they do, they're going to string you up by your balls from the courthouse roof."
"No no, Maggie, you were the deluxe package. You didn't just disappear. There'll be a body. Think of it this way: you'll be giving a proper burial to a homeless girl who would have gotten a pauper's grave at best."
Maggie's eyes welled with tears. "They'll KNOW it's not me!" she cried, twisting her arms in their duct tape prison. "They'll KNOW! My father will never believe it! He'll have them do DNA tests and dental exams and they'll prove it!"
"Maggie, Maggie, Maggie," he said, as though talking to a child. She hated how he said her name -- it sounded like oil on his tongue. "You put too much faith in people. It's why I was able to take you so easily. Most of the girls I take put up some kind of fight; they make it difficult. But you fell into my hands like rain in monsoon season; it was just that easy. I knew it would be; I know a lot of things about you."
The way he said that made her skin crawl; more so than it already was. "How many girls have you taken?" she snarled.
"Hundreds. I've never kept one before. This is exciting."
"What did you do with the others?"
"Didn't I already tell you not to ask me that?" he admonished, walking behind her. She craned her neck around to keep her eyes pinned on him. "Besides, you don't need to think about them. You just need to think about yourself." She felt his hand in her hair again and tried to pull her head away, but as before, his fingers seemed to be everywhere.
His fingertips trailed along the nape of her neck and she shuddered away from his touch, flinching. When her eyes opened again, she was startled to find he'd crouched down behind her, chin resting on the back of her chair, gazing at her profile as though she were a Renaissance masterpiece. "I'm going to move you," he whispered, as Maggie tried to strain away from those huge blue eyes. "Do you want to know where?" His hand caressed down her bare arm and she struggled with her bonds, knowing it was futile but needing to do it anyway.
"No, please," she whimpered, feeling his hand continue downward, following the angle of her lap until his fingers grazed her bare knee. "Please…"
"Shhhh," he soothed, stroking her knee. "Shhh…"
Maggie tried to press her knees together, but the duct tape wrapped around her calves kept them spread open so they didn't quite touch. "Stop," she whispered shakily, voice choking with tears as his fingers dipped between her knees to brush over the smooth skin there. She wanted to bolt but found she was frozen with fear. "Jesus, please stop…"
"I got you for a steal," he murmured, ignoring her pleas. He nosed along her hairline. "My employers said I could have you half price, for all the good work I've done for them over the years. You're my first and only bonus…" She felt him smile against her cheek. "I'm going to make you last…"
---------------------------
When he slashed the duct tape she tried to run, but she should have known it wouldn't work; he would have planned on it. The hours of being bound so tightly had left her extremities numb, and as she tried to dart from the chair, she found herself sprawled flat on her face on the scuffed hardwood floor.
Frighteningly soft hands grabbed her arms, pulling her hands behind her back, and she felt the unfamiliar touch of cold steel as he snapped a pair of cuffs around her wrists. "You shouldn't do that," he advised her calmly, ignoring her squirming as he wrapped a matching pair of shackles around her ankles. "You're liable to hurt yourself. Did you know most serious injuries occur in the home?"
"Let me GO!" she pleaded, fighting against his strong grip as he dragged her to her feet. "Let me GO!"
"Take small steps or you're liable to trip again," he said calmly, pushing her forward. Maggie shuffled ahead unwillingly, trying to shake off his hand but he wouldn't let her go. "Remember, if I have to clean up after you, you pay me back; and getting blood on my floor counts as cleaning up."
She stumbled awkwardly through the door and found herself in a dark hallway. This house was obviously old; 1930s, perhaps. Dark paneling that matched the floorboards lined the bottom half of the walls while cream wallpaper in a muted paisley pattern stretched to the ceiling. Antique lighting fixtures that dripped crystals like dime store chandeliers dangled over her head but shed no light. The only light in the oppressive corridor came from the room behind them and up a flight of narrow stairs that presumably led to the first floor.
"Eyes front," Elijah said near her ear, and Maggie couldn't resist a yelp of fright at his proximity. "You don't get to go downstairs until you've proven you're a good girl. Understood? In here."
He reached around her with one hand to grab the brass knob on another heavy oak door, almost identical to the one that had shut off her earlier prison. It came open with a twist and Elijah shoved her into the room. Her feet, bound as they were, couldn't keep up with the momentum and she ended up falling forward onto her face again. With her hands behind her back there was no way to break her fall and she cried out as she tumbled onto the floor, half expecting to crack her head on hardwood. Instead, she found her descent cushioned by a thick-piled, rose-colored carpet.
"Home sweet home," Elijah said, following her into the room; he sounded as though he actually meant it. "Take your time looking around -- you'll have plenty of opportunity to get to know it better."
Maggie moaned, rolling onto her back, still dazed from her fall. She winced as the cuffs dug into her wrists and the small of her back. Opening bleary eyes, she looked at the room around her. Pink was the predominant color theme, with walls painted a mellow shade of mauve to match the dusty rose carpeting. The furniture was oak; brand new and still glossy, with brushed gold fixtures shaped like seashells. A make-up table with a richly-framed mirror dominated the wall beside the door, while windows fringed with mauve curtains and hung with roman shades let in the last of the watery daylight. Craning her neck backwards, she saw that she was lying at the foot of a queen-sized four-poster bed, covered in a white pillowed comforter tricked out in a delicate rosebud pattern and draped with a gauzy canopy. If she could have seen over the bed, she would have seen an overstuffed armchair in warm gold fabric between the room's two windows, a standing lamp behind it to aid in reading. But she didn’t need to look over the bed to know it was there.
Because the room was identical to her bedroom at home, down to the hope chest at the foot of the bed with the monogram "MG" etched into the lid.
"You… You sick FREAK," she whispered, staring in horrified fascination at the family photos arrayed on the nightstand. Yes, they were exact duplicates of the ones she had on her nightstand at home, with only one minor alteration: every photo that featured her boyfriend Ian had been photoshopped with Elijah's head.
"Sweet nothings will get you nowhere," Elijah said, crouching down beside her. "Don't scream."
"Wha-" Before she could ask what he was going to do to her, she found a pink bandana being wound around her mouth, gagging her. Despite his warning, she started screaming anyway, muffled by the gag but still loud enough to be heard.
"Why do you always do the opposite of what I tell you?" he asked, sounding genuinely exasperated as he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her into a standing position. "So uncooperative. Is it really so hard to be polite? No wonder the young people of this country are such a mess; they have no manners."
Maggie fought against his grip, writhing with all her might, trying to break free; she had no idea where she'd go if she DID escape his hold, but she had to make the effort. She refused to just lay down and accept that he had her utterly at his mercy.
"Calm down," he said firmly, giving her a push that sent her tumbling backwards onto the bed. She tried to jump back to her feet but his lightning quick reflexes beat her yet again, and before she could muster her protesting limbs he had his hand on her stomach, pinning her to the bed. She stared up into his eyes, and there it was; that terror bubbling inside her that she'd fought so long to keep in check. This was getting real now; the dreamy, shock-induced shield she'd raised was beginning to break down, giving way to cold fear.
"Relax, and this will be much easier on you," he said quietly, his voice a razor against her ear. "The harder you fight, the harder I'll have to be." Resting one knee on the edge of the bed, he brought his other hand up to cup her cheek, leaning forward until their faces were a hand's breadth apart.
"I've waited so long to have you here like this, Maggie," he murmured, blue eyes coasting over her face, drinking her in. His thumb stroked her cheekbone gently. "I want to be soft with you. You want that too, don't you? You don't want me to be hard with you. You're so tender…"
Tears were welling in Maggie's eyes and they spilled over as his thumb brushed beneath her lashes. "Are you crying?" he asked, touching her tears with his fingertip. A hiccupping sob ebbed past her gag. "Shhhh," he soothed, and she felt his hand start to rub her stomach. "Don't cry, Maggie. Don't cry. I don’t want to hurt you. I only have to hurt you when you misbehave; that's why I need you to cooperate. I know you're scared right now, but I don't want you to be scared. You'll see -- I'm not a bad person, Maggie. I'll show you how good I can be." He leaned in closer, and Maggie squeezed her eyes shut as he pressed his lips to her temple, kissing away her tears.
"You taste so good," he breathed near her ear, voice shaking.
Maggie felt something inside her snap. The combination of his voice and his eyes had put her into a trance, but she felt herself waking out of it now. With a deep-throated howl of fear, she bucked beneath him, sending him sprawling on the bed beside her, and used the rebound to push herself to her feet. The door was only three long strides away, but it might as well have been a mile to her shackled ankles. She struggled towards it, not knowing how she was going to turn the heavy knob and not caring. If she could just REACH it…
NO! she screamed internally as she felt his arms wrap around her waist, dragging her backwards. "What did I just SAY?" he snarled in her ear, all tenderness gone from his voice, replaced with steel. "Didn't I just say that you shouldn't misbehave? Am I going to have to clean your ears to make you listen to me?"
He threw her down on the bed again, this time on her stomach. She curled up into a fetal ball, feeling him grab her wrists and yank roughly, planting his knee in the small of he back and extending her arms behind her to a painful degree. She cried out through her gag as pain exploded in her shoulders. "This is what you get for not listening," he snapped at her, ignoring her frantic whimpers. "We could have done this nice and easy, but you had to try and get away. I HATE when they try to get away."
The sound of metal touching metal reached her ears, and then she felt the cuff fall away from her left wrist. Her elation was short lived, as he heaved her bodily onto her back and pulled her arms up above her head, cuffing her securely to the heavy oak headboard. "You have to lay still for this next part," he told her firmly, "or you'll get hurt. Badly. And it will be all your own fault."
She watched him reach into the nightstand drawer and pull out a pair of long scissors. Her eyes went wide with fresh fear and she started screaming again. Shit, shit, no! No! she begged internally, bucking and squirming on the bed.
"I SAID lay still!" he snapped, sitting beside her on the bed and pushing down on her pelvis to hold her immobile. "Do you want these to cut you?" He opened and closed the shears a couple of times in front of her face. Maggie felt her muscles seize up as she stared at him in terror. "Good. Now keep that way."
He grabbed the cap sleeve of her sundress and cut it apart. Then he moved to the other side and did the same thing. Moving down, Maggie felt the cold steel of the scissor blade against her thigh as he began cutting up the side seam of her dress. She whimpered, closing her eyes, trying not to feel the air of the room as it came into contact with newly bared skin. Once he had the one side finished, he moved to the other, until her dress was nothing but two swaths of flowery chiffon, which he peeled away from her body like crepe paper, leaving her in nothing but her matching lace panties and bra.
"There," he said nonchalantly. "Was that so bad?" She watched with tear-filled eyes as he methodically shredded her dress into long strips on the edge of the scissor blade; it made her shudder to think how sharp that blade must be; how close it had been to her vulnerable, most sensitive areas.
"All done," Elijah said as he finished slicing her dress to shreds, folding the strips neatly and setting them on the nightstand. Directing his attention back to her, he gave her a big, farmboy smile. "I bet you're feeling open and exposed, aren't you? You're feeling used and afraid. Am I right? Just nod for yes."
Maggie sniffled. There was really nothing else for it; she didn't want to taunt him when he still had those scissors in his hand. She nodded.
"I thought so," he said, and she almost breathed with relief when he put the scissors down on the nightstand. "That's as far as I'm going to go for now." That "for now" sent cold shivers down her spine. "Now this breaks down simply. If you cooperate, if you stop fighting, I'll leave your underwear alone. But if you fight with me, I'm taking it off. Do you understand? Nod for yes."
Another nod.
"Good girl. Now lie still."
Maggie watched, motionless, as he stood up and went to the closet beside the make-up table. He rummaged around for a few seconds, then came out again holding a new set of ankle shackles. Fresh tears sprang to her eyes as he reapproached the bed, and she moaned with distress as he sat down near her feet. "Uh-uh," he chided, laying a hand on her calf and leveling her with a warning look. "No moving, remember?"
Maggie closed her eyes, refusing to watch as he unlocked the shackles around her ankles. There was no use fighting; the headboard wasn't going to let her go, and those scissors were still on the nightstand. She felt him shackle each ankle to a bedpost, spreading her legs into a V-shape. "Very good," he congratulated her when he was done, and she shuddered as his hand stroked the inside of her calf. "Very good, Maggie. You did very well. See? We can be polite to each other. Open your eyes now."
It took all her effort, but she forced her eyes open; he was watching her with an unreadable smile on his face. "I'm going to ungag you now," he told her. "But I don't want you to scream. Understood?"
Nod.
"Very good." He moved up the bed, reaching behind her head to untie the gag. Maggie worked her mouth as he pulled the bandana away; her lips and tongue were bone dry.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked shakily as he set the bandana on top of the remains of her dress on the nightstand. "Please, let me go. I won't tell anyone what's happened, I promise. Just… let me go!"
"Maggie, don’t you understand?" He turned back to her with a chastising smile. "I bought you. You're my property; and you weren't cheap, either. But that doesn't matter." His hand stroked her hair back from her face. "You're worth it."
Goosebumps raised themselves on her skin as his hand moved down from her face, grazing along her neck. "I am going to make you feel so good, Maggie," he murmured, looking down her body reverentially. "I'm going to make you feel like you make me feel. I'm going to give you so much. I won't even need the cuffs to keep you here soon; you'll stay because you want to stay. That's how good I'm going to make you feel. I promise."
As if to seal that promise, he shifted his position so he was sitting by her legs, then leaned forward to kiss her bare stomach. His lips were warm and soft; his nose pressed into the skin just above her navel. "So good," he whispered against her skin, moving down to kiss her hip, his hands stroking down her thighs. "You'll never want to leave…"
Maggie stared at the ceiling, biting her lip and trying not to cry anymore as she felt his mouth press against the inside of her knee. She was so tired, and thirsty, and still sore from her fall and the aftereffects of the drug he'd used to knock her out. She knew it was because she was exhausted, but his mouth was actually soothing her nerves; when she let her guard down, she could feel her muscles relax ever so slightly.
Until his lips started moving up her inner thigh; then she went rigid as a statue.
"Please," she whispered, her voice choked and cracking from suppressed tears. "Please don't…"
"You're so warm," he moaned against her thigh. "And mine…"
He nudged the crease of her thigh with his nose, and she gave up the fight and let herself cry.
TBC…
x-posted to literarylemming and lotrlostcouples
Chapter 2: Perverted Types of Motion
AUTHOR: Mnemosyne
Disclaimer: This story is VERY fictional. Absolutely nothing that happens in this story happened in real life; it is entirely a derivation of my sick mind. Maggie Grace and Elijah Wood are their own people who lead happy, well-defined lives of content sanity. Their characters and backgrounds as portrayed in this story are utterly, purely fiction. No offense is intended to either actor or their families!
SUMMARY: Maggie is the heiress to a windfall fortune, and Elijah is her creepy kidnapper. See what ensues.
RATING: R - NC-17 in later chapters
WARNING: This story will contain elements of non-consensual sex. If this disturbs you or makes you uncomfortable, I urge you not to read this story. I'm not here to make anyone feel uncomfortable -- I don't want to cause you undue duress!
NOTES:
Chapter two! Things start to get hotter and more uncomfortable in this chapter; so please, heed my warnings!
DEDICATION:
To all the wonderful people who answered my plea for Evil!Lijie icons, because they were so inspiring! I honestly couldn't choose a favorite -- I'll have to use them on a revolving basis! And to itsyogyrl, who made a KILLER Evil!Lijie mix that absolutely kicked me in the pants and got this chapter finished. Shower her with praise!
Previous Chapters: (1)
Maggie choked as he took his hand away from her mouth, releasing her neck. "Wh… What do you mean, bought me?" she demanded, refusing to give in to the tears that threatened to fall.
Elijah stood up slowly, and she was struck by how much his movements resembled a snake. "You're worth millions, Maggie," he said politely. "I think you understand the concept of supply-side economics. Supply and demand? There's a demand for a product, someone else supplies it, money changes hands and everybody's happy. Well, not everybody. The supply is pretty miserable most of the time; but that changes after a while."
"You're talking about white slavery, you sick pig," she spat.
"If you want to call it that. Though really, the market's open to white, black, asian… White Slavery is such a racist term."
"You stand there, telling me you bought me, and you're preaching about political correctness?" A mixture of rage and fear seethed in her veins. "People SAW you take me. They'll find you, and when they do, they're going to string you up by your balls from the courthouse roof."
"No no, Maggie, you were the deluxe package. You didn't just disappear. There'll be a body. Think of it this way: you'll be giving a proper burial to a homeless girl who would have gotten a pauper's grave at best."
Maggie's eyes welled with tears. "They'll KNOW it's not me!" she cried, twisting her arms in their duct tape prison. "They'll KNOW! My father will never believe it! He'll have them do DNA tests and dental exams and they'll prove it!"
"Maggie, Maggie, Maggie," he said, as though talking to a child. She hated how he said her name -- it sounded like oil on his tongue. "You put too much faith in people. It's why I was able to take you so easily. Most of the girls I take put up some kind of fight; they make it difficult. But you fell into my hands like rain in monsoon season; it was just that easy. I knew it would be; I know a lot of things about you."
The way he said that made her skin crawl; more so than it already was. "How many girls have you taken?" she snarled.
"Hundreds. I've never kept one before. This is exciting."
"What did you do with the others?"
"Didn't I already tell you not to ask me that?" he admonished, walking behind her. She craned her neck around to keep her eyes pinned on him. "Besides, you don't need to think about them. You just need to think about yourself." She felt his hand in her hair again and tried to pull her head away, but as before, his fingers seemed to be everywhere.
His fingertips trailed along the nape of her neck and she shuddered away from his touch, flinching. When her eyes opened again, she was startled to find he'd crouched down behind her, chin resting on the back of her chair, gazing at her profile as though she were a Renaissance masterpiece. "I'm going to move you," he whispered, as Maggie tried to strain away from those huge blue eyes. "Do you want to know where?" His hand caressed down her bare arm and she struggled with her bonds, knowing it was futile but needing to do it anyway.
"No, please," she whimpered, feeling his hand continue downward, following the angle of her lap until his fingers grazed her bare knee. "Please…"
"Shhhh," he soothed, stroking her knee. "Shhh…"
Maggie tried to press her knees together, but the duct tape wrapped around her calves kept them spread open so they didn't quite touch. "Stop," she whispered shakily, voice choking with tears as his fingers dipped between her knees to brush over the smooth skin there. She wanted to bolt but found she was frozen with fear. "Jesus, please stop…"
"I got you for a steal," he murmured, ignoring her pleas. He nosed along her hairline. "My employers said I could have you half price, for all the good work I've done for them over the years. You're my first and only bonus…" She felt him smile against her cheek. "I'm going to make you last…"
---------------------------
When he slashed the duct tape she tried to run, but she should have known it wouldn't work; he would have planned on it. The hours of being bound so tightly had left her extremities numb, and as she tried to dart from the chair, she found herself sprawled flat on her face on the scuffed hardwood floor.
Frighteningly soft hands grabbed her arms, pulling her hands behind her back, and she felt the unfamiliar touch of cold steel as he snapped a pair of cuffs around her wrists. "You shouldn't do that," he advised her calmly, ignoring her squirming as he wrapped a matching pair of shackles around her ankles. "You're liable to hurt yourself. Did you know most serious injuries occur in the home?"
"Let me GO!" she pleaded, fighting against his strong grip as he dragged her to her feet. "Let me GO!"
"Take small steps or you're liable to trip again," he said calmly, pushing her forward. Maggie shuffled ahead unwillingly, trying to shake off his hand but he wouldn't let her go. "Remember, if I have to clean up after you, you pay me back; and getting blood on my floor counts as cleaning up."
She stumbled awkwardly through the door and found herself in a dark hallway. This house was obviously old; 1930s, perhaps. Dark paneling that matched the floorboards lined the bottom half of the walls while cream wallpaper in a muted paisley pattern stretched to the ceiling. Antique lighting fixtures that dripped crystals like dime store chandeliers dangled over her head but shed no light. The only light in the oppressive corridor came from the room behind them and up a flight of narrow stairs that presumably led to the first floor.
"Eyes front," Elijah said near her ear, and Maggie couldn't resist a yelp of fright at his proximity. "You don't get to go downstairs until you've proven you're a good girl. Understood? In here."
He reached around her with one hand to grab the brass knob on another heavy oak door, almost identical to the one that had shut off her earlier prison. It came open with a twist and Elijah shoved her into the room. Her feet, bound as they were, couldn't keep up with the momentum and she ended up falling forward onto her face again. With her hands behind her back there was no way to break her fall and she cried out as she tumbled onto the floor, half expecting to crack her head on hardwood. Instead, she found her descent cushioned by a thick-piled, rose-colored carpet.
"Home sweet home," Elijah said, following her into the room; he sounded as though he actually meant it. "Take your time looking around -- you'll have plenty of opportunity to get to know it better."
Maggie moaned, rolling onto her back, still dazed from her fall. She winced as the cuffs dug into her wrists and the small of her back. Opening bleary eyes, she looked at the room around her. Pink was the predominant color theme, with walls painted a mellow shade of mauve to match the dusty rose carpeting. The furniture was oak; brand new and still glossy, with brushed gold fixtures shaped like seashells. A make-up table with a richly-framed mirror dominated the wall beside the door, while windows fringed with mauve curtains and hung with roman shades let in the last of the watery daylight. Craning her neck backwards, she saw that she was lying at the foot of a queen-sized four-poster bed, covered in a white pillowed comforter tricked out in a delicate rosebud pattern and draped with a gauzy canopy. If she could have seen over the bed, she would have seen an overstuffed armchair in warm gold fabric between the room's two windows, a standing lamp behind it to aid in reading. But she didn’t need to look over the bed to know it was there.
Because the room was identical to her bedroom at home, down to the hope chest at the foot of the bed with the monogram "MG" etched into the lid.
"You… You sick FREAK," she whispered, staring in horrified fascination at the family photos arrayed on the nightstand. Yes, they were exact duplicates of the ones she had on her nightstand at home, with only one minor alteration: every photo that featured her boyfriend Ian had been photoshopped with Elijah's head.
"Sweet nothings will get you nowhere," Elijah said, crouching down beside her. "Don't scream."
"Wha-" Before she could ask what he was going to do to her, she found a pink bandana being wound around her mouth, gagging her. Despite his warning, she started screaming anyway, muffled by the gag but still loud enough to be heard.
"Why do you always do the opposite of what I tell you?" he asked, sounding genuinely exasperated as he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her into a standing position. "So uncooperative. Is it really so hard to be polite? No wonder the young people of this country are such a mess; they have no manners."
Maggie fought against his grip, writhing with all her might, trying to break free; she had no idea where she'd go if she DID escape his hold, but she had to make the effort. She refused to just lay down and accept that he had her utterly at his mercy.
"Calm down," he said firmly, giving her a push that sent her tumbling backwards onto the bed. She tried to jump back to her feet but his lightning quick reflexes beat her yet again, and before she could muster her protesting limbs he had his hand on her stomach, pinning her to the bed. She stared up into his eyes, and there it was; that terror bubbling inside her that she'd fought so long to keep in check. This was getting real now; the dreamy, shock-induced shield she'd raised was beginning to break down, giving way to cold fear.
"Relax, and this will be much easier on you," he said quietly, his voice a razor against her ear. "The harder you fight, the harder I'll have to be." Resting one knee on the edge of the bed, he brought his other hand up to cup her cheek, leaning forward until their faces were a hand's breadth apart.
"I've waited so long to have you here like this, Maggie," he murmured, blue eyes coasting over her face, drinking her in. His thumb stroked her cheekbone gently. "I want to be soft with you. You want that too, don't you? You don't want me to be hard with you. You're so tender…"
Tears were welling in Maggie's eyes and they spilled over as his thumb brushed beneath her lashes. "Are you crying?" he asked, touching her tears with his fingertip. A hiccupping sob ebbed past her gag. "Shhhh," he soothed, and she felt his hand start to rub her stomach. "Don't cry, Maggie. Don't cry. I don’t want to hurt you. I only have to hurt you when you misbehave; that's why I need you to cooperate. I know you're scared right now, but I don't want you to be scared. You'll see -- I'm not a bad person, Maggie. I'll show you how good I can be." He leaned in closer, and Maggie squeezed her eyes shut as he pressed his lips to her temple, kissing away her tears.
"You taste so good," he breathed near her ear, voice shaking.
Maggie felt something inside her snap. The combination of his voice and his eyes had put her into a trance, but she felt herself waking out of it now. With a deep-throated howl of fear, she bucked beneath him, sending him sprawling on the bed beside her, and used the rebound to push herself to her feet. The door was only three long strides away, but it might as well have been a mile to her shackled ankles. She struggled towards it, not knowing how she was going to turn the heavy knob and not caring. If she could just REACH it…
NO! she screamed internally as she felt his arms wrap around her waist, dragging her backwards. "What did I just SAY?" he snarled in her ear, all tenderness gone from his voice, replaced with steel. "Didn't I just say that you shouldn't misbehave? Am I going to have to clean your ears to make you listen to me?"
He threw her down on the bed again, this time on her stomach. She curled up into a fetal ball, feeling him grab her wrists and yank roughly, planting his knee in the small of he back and extending her arms behind her to a painful degree. She cried out through her gag as pain exploded in her shoulders. "This is what you get for not listening," he snapped at her, ignoring her frantic whimpers. "We could have done this nice and easy, but you had to try and get away. I HATE when they try to get away."
The sound of metal touching metal reached her ears, and then she felt the cuff fall away from her left wrist. Her elation was short lived, as he heaved her bodily onto her back and pulled her arms up above her head, cuffing her securely to the heavy oak headboard. "You have to lay still for this next part," he told her firmly, "or you'll get hurt. Badly. And it will be all your own fault."
She watched him reach into the nightstand drawer and pull out a pair of long scissors. Her eyes went wide with fresh fear and she started screaming again. Shit, shit, no! No! she begged internally, bucking and squirming on the bed.
"I SAID lay still!" he snapped, sitting beside her on the bed and pushing down on her pelvis to hold her immobile. "Do you want these to cut you?" He opened and closed the shears a couple of times in front of her face. Maggie felt her muscles seize up as she stared at him in terror. "Good. Now keep that way."
He grabbed the cap sleeve of her sundress and cut it apart. Then he moved to the other side and did the same thing. Moving down, Maggie felt the cold steel of the scissor blade against her thigh as he began cutting up the side seam of her dress. She whimpered, closing her eyes, trying not to feel the air of the room as it came into contact with newly bared skin. Once he had the one side finished, he moved to the other, until her dress was nothing but two swaths of flowery chiffon, which he peeled away from her body like crepe paper, leaving her in nothing but her matching lace panties and bra.
"There," he said nonchalantly. "Was that so bad?" She watched with tear-filled eyes as he methodically shredded her dress into long strips on the edge of the scissor blade; it made her shudder to think how sharp that blade must be; how close it had been to her vulnerable, most sensitive areas.
"All done," Elijah said as he finished slicing her dress to shreds, folding the strips neatly and setting them on the nightstand. Directing his attention back to her, he gave her a big, farmboy smile. "I bet you're feeling open and exposed, aren't you? You're feeling used and afraid. Am I right? Just nod for yes."
Maggie sniffled. There was really nothing else for it; she didn't want to taunt him when he still had those scissors in his hand. She nodded.
"I thought so," he said, and she almost breathed with relief when he put the scissors down on the nightstand. "That's as far as I'm going to go for now." That "for now" sent cold shivers down her spine. "Now this breaks down simply. If you cooperate, if you stop fighting, I'll leave your underwear alone. But if you fight with me, I'm taking it off. Do you understand? Nod for yes."
Another nod.
"Good girl. Now lie still."
Maggie watched, motionless, as he stood up and went to the closet beside the make-up table. He rummaged around for a few seconds, then came out again holding a new set of ankle shackles. Fresh tears sprang to her eyes as he reapproached the bed, and she moaned with distress as he sat down near her feet. "Uh-uh," he chided, laying a hand on her calf and leveling her with a warning look. "No moving, remember?"
Maggie closed her eyes, refusing to watch as he unlocked the shackles around her ankles. There was no use fighting; the headboard wasn't going to let her go, and those scissors were still on the nightstand. She felt him shackle each ankle to a bedpost, spreading her legs into a V-shape. "Very good," he congratulated her when he was done, and she shuddered as his hand stroked the inside of her calf. "Very good, Maggie. You did very well. See? We can be polite to each other. Open your eyes now."
It took all her effort, but she forced her eyes open; he was watching her with an unreadable smile on his face. "I'm going to ungag you now," he told her. "But I don't want you to scream. Understood?"
Nod.
"Very good." He moved up the bed, reaching behind her head to untie the gag. Maggie worked her mouth as he pulled the bandana away; her lips and tongue were bone dry.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked shakily as he set the bandana on top of the remains of her dress on the nightstand. "Please, let me go. I won't tell anyone what's happened, I promise. Just… let me go!"
"Maggie, don’t you understand?" He turned back to her with a chastising smile. "I bought you. You're my property; and you weren't cheap, either. But that doesn't matter." His hand stroked her hair back from her face. "You're worth it."
Goosebumps raised themselves on her skin as his hand moved down from her face, grazing along her neck. "I am going to make you feel so good, Maggie," he murmured, looking down her body reverentially. "I'm going to make you feel like you make me feel. I'm going to give you so much. I won't even need the cuffs to keep you here soon; you'll stay because you want to stay. That's how good I'm going to make you feel. I promise."
As if to seal that promise, he shifted his position so he was sitting by her legs, then leaned forward to kiss her bare stomach. His lips were warm and soft; his nose pressed into the skin just above her navel. "So good," he whispered against her skin, moving down to kiss her hip, his hands stroking down her thighs. "You'll never want to leave…"
Maggie stared at the ceiling, biting her lip and trying not to cry anymore as she felt his mouth press against the inside of her knee. She was so tired, and thirsty, and still sore from her fall and the aftereffects of the drug he'd used to knock her out. She knew it was because she was exhausted, but his mouth was actually soothing her nerves; when she let her guard down, she could feel her muscles relax ever so slightly.
Until his lips started moving up her inner thigh; then she went rigid as a statue.
"Please," she whispered, her voice choked and cracking from suppressed tears. "Please don't…"
"You're so warm," he moaned against her thigh. "And mine…"
He nudged the crease of her thigh with his nose, and she gave up the fight and let herself cry.
TBC…
x-posted to literarylemming and lotrlostcouples