I don't open the door, wanting to keep my distance and speak to her, keeping my voice cold, like shards of ice. "You called me?"
“I want to go outside. I need to feel the breeze and the rain on my skin, to know that I can still feel something as simple as that. I want you to take me out there,” she says, her voice low and rough from shouting out for so long.
I pause, considering. Without answering her, I open the door, seeing her kneeling on the floor just across the threshold.
The memory of her taking me in her mouth sweeps over me for a moment. I shake it off and take the blanket from around her shoulders, dropping it on the floor. She is naked underneath, fuck. My cock stiffens but I ignore it, for now at least.
I grip her arm tightly and she winces in my hold as I drag her to her feet and through the house to the back door, which I kick open before shoving her outside in the rain.
She squeals at the chill of it, as she is quickly drenched. She starts shivering and trying to shove back into the house, her naked skin pale and covered in goosebumps. She shakes violently, "No, take me back in, it's too cold like this!"
I hold firmly. "You don't get to make demands of me Violet. This is what you wanted, so you will fucking stay out here, naked and shivering until I decide you’ve had enough.”
We stay like that for a while; her crying completely hidden in the storm raging around us. I’m still holding her, watching her, and waiting for her to submit to my will.
When her eyes drop in defeat and her sobs subside, I push her roughly back inside, locking the door and putting the key in my pocket.
Her skin is red, and her lips are slightly discolored from the cold, her dripping hair clings to her pale, bare skin, and she is still shivering violently.
A slight guilt sinks into me, so I grab two towels from the dryer and throw the bigger one of the two at her.
“Dry off before you catch a damn cold, and get out of my sight,” I say, without looking at her, “But don’t you dare try and leave the house. If you try, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
28
Violet
He leaves me standing there, freezing cold, dripping, and frozen in complete shock. He didn’t lock me back in the room
. A small spark of excitement starts to course through me having gained some of my freedom back. Now I just need to figure out how to get out of this place.
The last words he said before leaving me to go somewhere else in the house sends a shiver down my spine, “If you try, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
I shall have to be careful about this, make sure I plan this so damn carefully. While standing there pondering, I slowly rub the towel over my wet skin, before wrapping it tightly around my shoulders and desperately trying to warm up. My clothes are upstairs in my room, but I can't bring myself to go back up there just yet.
I catch sight of the door Z went through to grab the towels and slowly walk over to peer through. There’s a small windowless room with a washer and dryer pushed up against the wall. I look inside the dryer. There are some clothes in there, still slightly warm like the towel was when he threw it at me. With only a moment's hesitation, I grab one of his shirts and slip it over my head. It comes to partway down my thighs, but it is warm and dry, that's all I care about right now.
Once I’m a bit more decent I start to slowly explore the house for the first time. The kitchen where he left me is plain but organized with a heavy oak table pushed against one wall, but the most interesting feature is the padlocked door which would normally lead to a pantry. The house itself is surprisingly tidy and clean, considering the state my room is in, with the dust and boarded windows. Further inspection tells me that my room seems to be the only one with boarded windows
“I wonder why that is,” I muse aloud.
I explore the ground floor of the house, apart from the kitchen there aren’t any other rooms, just a huge living room. As I move past the front door, I slyly turn the handle just in case it isn't locked. I have no luck though; it's firmly locked, and there are three keyholes. Shaking my head, I wonder why there is such tight security. It then occurs to me as I fumble with the door, that I am here and unable to get out. That's probably why, because if I even catch sight of an opportunity to breakout and escape, then I will.
I head back to the living room, tired out from the encounter with Z, hoping to maybe lie down in there for a while. I take in the room a little more closely this time; the floors in here are all laminate wood, and the walls are a uniform light beige color. It’s sparsely decorated, but still seems quite comfortable with a black leather sofa, television, and a few other pieces of standard household furniture.
I notice a bookshelf in the corner with a few books sitting on it, and a thrill shoots through me as I hurry over to look at it. There isn’t much of a selection: a few reference books, and some older books. I carefully pull a worn copy of Dracula from the shelf, curl up on the sofa, and start reading.
I’m feeling comfortable, for the first time since I’ve been here in this house, but I can’t quite figure out why. Is it the new surroundings, or is it the slight change I sensed in him today, from the small amount of mercy he showed me by giving me a small piece of freedom. After a short time, I feel my eyes drifting closed, wrapped in his shirt, the scent of him envelops me, and I don't try to fight it.
29
Z
After leaving her standing in the kitchen wearing nothing but a towel, I storm off to my room, slamming and locking the door behind me.
I throw myself into the chair and growl to myself. “I’m a stupid fucking bastard, I shouldn’t have done that.”
I lost my temper, my confusion combined with her demands washed over me in a blanket of red and I snapped. Looking at her on the monitors, she is still frozen to the spot, dripping a small puddle at her feet with a towel around her shoulders. It may have worked in my favor.