Pretty When She Cries (9 page)

“Oh, you feel how that just slid in?” he said. “You see? It feels good when you relax.” He began to move slowly. “Put your arms around my neck.” She put her arms around him. “Just keep kissing me,” he said. He moved his mouth over hers with prolonged, adoring kisses.

She was loosening up, but just a bit, and was getting moist down there. He clutched her harder. He lifted his face to her and watched as she made efforts to stay relaxed. She didn’t want to hurt any more.

“I love you, I fucking love you!” he said. He clamped his hand around her throat. “Are you thinking of that other prick? Is that who you’re screwing right now!”

He pumped her harder and harder. His large eyes were open and inflicted on her a red, raging look. She clutched his hand at her throat, and shook her head. He released his hold slightly. “Tell me you want me to fuck you. I want to hear you say it.”

“I want you to fuck me,” she said, gasping.

He hid himself against her, thrusting blindly. “Bitch, bitch, bitch. You’re such a fucking bitch,” he said and he fell forward on her breast as he came helplessly.

In a minute he chained her up again, and she sat restless. She wanted to get up and walk. “If you unchained me, I could do some cleaning or something, would you like that? I want to move around a bit.”

He was fiddling with an oily car part on the coffee table. “You already did just move around a bit,” he said. “That’s a real pretty dress you got on there, don’t mess it up.”

Chapter 8

That night instead of slinking off after he’d finished with her, he simply eased to one side, leaving his arm draped about her waist and she felt his breath against her neck. It was not a comfortable night that she passed. He was practically in the same position the following morning. Only his hand had found its way between her warm thighs and was lodged there. He was sound asleep.

For an insane second she thought of trying to wrap the chain around his neck, or find something to suffocate him. But the reality and the fear of failure kept her frozen next to him, staring at him. When he finally awoke, he gave her a look as if he knew what she’d been thinking. He sat up and rubbed his face and eyes. He took the blanket off her. She was naked from the previous night.

“Are you bleeding yet?” he asked. “Down there. Are you menstruating right now?”

She shook her head. He leaned past her and fumbled with the pregnancy test box. He pulled out a strip. “Go piss on that.”

She did as he told her without question. He stayed with her while waiting for the result. Her mind was a blank. She had no idea how she would react, how he would react, if it came up positive. The box said to wait two minutes for the result. When he saw the results had come up negative he flew into a rage. He grabbed the strip out of her hand and flung it against the wall. He walked around the room, swearing and rubbing his face. He offered to pay her a thousand dollars to have his baby, as if she was somehow deliberately stopping her body from conceiving.

She lost her period altogether, probably from the extreme amount of stress she had undergone, and he made her take the test again in a couple of days.

She knew he wasn’t going to let her go. He intended to keep her prisoner indefinitely. These thoughts were confirmed when he forced her to write a letter to her mother telling her that she had broken up with her boyfriend and was touring until she could get her head straight, and that she would call soon.

“Don’t write your boyfriend’s name,” he said. “I don’t trust you.”

She had little difficulty writing the letter. She knew her family would never believe it, and just to make certain, she wrote in a different handstyle and signed off “Nikkie”, which she would never do.

“I’m going to post the letter from New York,” he said. He dug around in her purse and got out her cell phone. “Call your boyfriend.”

It felt very strange to be calling Cameron. Her stomach was in knots. It seemed a life time ago since she had heard his voice. How could she keep herself from begging him to help her, begging him to come get her? If her mother and he hadn’t had any contact, they might not even know she’s missing. While she dialed with trembling fingers James instructed her what to say. He was holding a kitchen knife. When she put the phone to her ear, waiting for someone to pick up, he put the blade flat on her cheek. “You disobey me—break your promise . . . ” he whispered, but didn’t finish.

She listened to the ringtone, and small tears began to trickle out of her eyes.

Cameron answered. She heard his voice and she crumbled. Her sobbing was like the chattering of dry leaves. She could hear him saying her name desperately, asking where she was, asking if she was hurt. He kept saying, “Nicole, sweetie, where are you, Nicole answer me!”

She closed her eyes, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. So he knew—they knew she was in trouble. They would be looking for her. She was still in Idaho, but she wasn’t sure where, and she knew if she deviated from what she had been instructed to say, James would kill her.

She clutched the phone tightly. “I don’t want to see you any more,” she said in despair. “We never get to see each other anyway!” She didn’t try desperately hard not to cry, because all girls cry when they break up with their boyfriends. “I don’t want to talk about it. I just need time to think,” she managed to say before James snatched the phone from her and shut it off. She sat quietly. She had flipped her hair back, and her bright blue eyes, tears streaming out, were looking right at him.

“You did good!” he said at last and made her flinch.

Speaking to Cameron gave her a small feeling of security, that he would find her.

“Can I put my dress on?” she asked humbly. “The one you bought me?”

“Do whatever you want,” he said, preoccupied. She scooted over the mattress and snatched up the white dress he had dragged off her last night. She slipped it over her head, and sat watching him.

There was a loud knock on the front door. He threw himself on her and covered her mouth. “’Sh-h’,” he whispered. She couldn’t see the front door, but it was just around the corner from the lounge. It took everything she had not to start struggling and screaming. He had her hair wrapped around his fist and his other hand on her mouth.

There was another loud knock, and someone called out, “Jim!”

He suddenly let her go. She didn’t bother screaming, because he evidently knew the man calling. He went to answer the door.

She could hear them talking. In a moment a man poked his head around the corner and looked in at her. Even though she was wearing a dress she felt completely exposed. They both came in and the man stood looking at her with a serious expression, while James grabbed the letter she’d written. He gave it to the other man. They both looked at her as if she was a new piece of equipment.

The guy mumbled something to James, smiling as if it was a joke. Then he went and kneeled on the mattress with her and she froze, hugging herself. He crept toward her. She looked pleadingly at James, somehow expecting him to step in and help her, but he didn’t. She closed her eyes. She sat very still and rigid while the guy took the spaghetti straps off her shoulders and bared her breasts.

“Oh, my fucking God!” he said, half laughing, as if he was dizzy. “Look at these titties.” He squeezed them and sucked them. She was dying with humiliation. He moved up and kissed and licked her neck. The shock of this new, intrusive sensation made her gasp and turn her face aside. She had become almost numb to James’s touch but this was a fresh shock to her already straining nerves.

“Sweet,” he said. He could have kissed her, but he didn’t. It was as if he knew he was only allowed to have a sample. He left her to pull up her own straps. Her throat and breasts were wet with his slobber. Hatred was burning inside her.

“See ya,” said James to the guy on his way out. He was eating a cold sausage leaning in the door way, staring at her. “Don’t look at me all pissy. He’s doing me a favor. I told him he could have a feel.”

She looked away at the wall and stared at it persistently. A touch of fear swept over her as he approached. She kept her face away and wouldn’t make eye contact. He crouched down and she broke and had to look at him.

“I don’t mind sharing my things,” he said. “So long as I know that it’s mine. Are you mine, Nicole?”

She debated within herself whether she should try and coax him, try and get him to start to trust her, or if she should just stay a silent, passive thing.

“I’m yours now,” she said. “That’s why I don’t want anyone touching me, except you.” She was afraid he knew what she was doing, that she had been too obvious, but she kept her gaze steadily fixed on his.

“That’s right, you are fucking mine, whether you like it or not.” He gave her a shove in the head. “You’ll get to love it. You’ll get used to me. Open your mouth, open your mouth!” He stuck his fingers in her mouth, and sawed them in and out, like he would with her pussy. He almost gagged her a few times. “Are you going to stay with me?” he said. “You could go to sleep every night with my come in you. Are you going to stay? Are you going to stay?”

She nodded, and put her hand over his to try and make him ease up on her mouth.

“Just remember that you’re mine,” he said, running a finger gently around her lips. “Stick out your tongue.” He kissed her sucking at her tongue. Then he stood up and unzipped his jeans. “Are you going to get excited over my cock?” He rubbed his impatient prick right in her face. He grabbed her hair. “Look at the thing that’s going to fuck you.”

He pushed her on her back and fell on her, pushing her dress up around her waist. His thumbs brushed the sensitive areas around her hips. “Did you think he was going to fuck you, my friend that was here just now?”

“I don’t know,” she said. Her hands were pressing subtly on his chest. She felt so fragile, and he seemed so energetic, she felt he would break her.

“You didn’t know what he was going to do?”

“No.”

“Did you have a funny feeling that was going to happen? That he was going to do that to you? He wanted to fuck you. He didn’t do it because I would have beaten the shit out of him. You see? All men just want to get their end in. Did you want him to screw you while I was there watching?”

“No.”

He pulled her to her feet. “Let’s watch something,” he said. He turned on the television and put on some porn. He sat in the couch and made her kneel between his legs. He pushed her face down on his cock sticking up from his jeans. “How far can you go?” he said, steadily pushing down on her head. “Go as far as you can. Good girl, almost there, almost there.”

His cock went down her throat. She started to gag and he kept pushing. She put her hands on his jean-clad thighs. She thought he was going to gag her to death.

“Have you heard the term angry dragon?” he said, laughing. “Don’t worry, I won’t do it to you.”

He let her go and she choked and wiped the saliva away from her mouth and chin. The television was providing sex sounds, and he massaged his hands through her hair. “Have you ever watched porn before? Waited till your parents had gone out, then frig yourself while watching a couple of people enjoying a good fuck?”

“No.”

“Suck it a little bit,” he said, easing her head down. He watched the television, thrusting his hips up to meet her mouth. Whenever the girl in the video cried or moaned loudly, he hit her mouth harder and pressed down on the back of her head. “It’s a shame you can’t suck and watch at the same time,” he said. “I’ll tell you what they’re doing. He’s kneeling down and kissing and sucking her cunt. He has her legs spread all the way open, pushin’ em’ up and back, and is looking into her smooth pussy. We should shave yours, eh?

“Now he’s licking around it with his tongue, while he rubs his nose against her stiff clit. Fuck, you feel good. Now he’s standing up, and she has her arm around his hip so she can reach his balls from behind, with her other hand she’s holding his dick; she’s drawing up and down the soft skin, now its going in her mouth. She’s taken nearly half of it in; she’s sucking it, just like you’re sucking mine.” His prick swelled, she felt it throb. She thought he was going to come, and it would be over, but he kept going. His hand was buried in her hair, and his stomach was sucked in, clenching in and out convulsively.

He pulled her up onto his lap and made her sit on his wet dick. He drew her straps down her shoulders and uncovered her breasts. His hands went over her hips.

“Move yourself on me,” he said.

She was frozen, her arms covering her breasts. She could feel that he was deep inside her, and he was looking at her. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t do it. His dick was pulsing in her, waiting.

“Move,” he said. “Come on. Fuck me. You’ve been on top before haven’t you?”

He took her hands and put them on his shoulders. She slowly started to grind herself against him. His left hand passed under her bottom, to support as well as steer her, to indicate what pace he wanted. He leaned to the side so he could still see the television. As he got hotter and hotter he didn’t seem to know if he wanted to look at her or the screen. He worked his hands over her, feeling the lines of her hips and thighs, as she undulated herself against him. “Oh baby, yeah, squeeze my cock with your pussy. Come on, come on! Squeeze it tight—make me feel good . . . Yeah, that’s it. Oh, you’re gonna make me come so soon, baby.”