“The best things in life make you sweaty.” - Edgar Allan Poe
Zorie
How many days had I been with him? I lay in bed blinking at the date on my phone. A week or more? It’d blurred. He’d made me answer messages and I barely recalled any of it. I’d even talked to someone on the phone, once, while he’d fucked me slowly.
I pressed the mobile phone to my forehead while desperately trying to remember. Brainwashing cults had nothing on him.
Due to the hot weather, I hadn’t jogged for weeks, but now I had to. Anything to sweep away all the crap. I pounded around the footpaths in the park, went around the mini lake three times then headed back home. Without letting myself think about what I did, when the door had shut and with sweat still dribbling down my abdomen beneath my exercise top, I picked up my phone, and I called the police.
By the time I reached a human, I had my mobile in a death grip. Say something to them. Say it. Tell them.
I couldn’t. My tongue had locked down. My throat refused to breathe out the words. For several seconds, my head was filled with just...blankness.
Eventually, I managed to tell them I was fine and had rung the number accidentally.
Fine. I was beginning to hate that word.
I ended the call and went and showered then slipped on a strappy summer dress. Plan, I needed one of those. Ugh. How? My eyeballs felt as if they’d been bathed in acid. I needed sleep, serenity, and some masked avenger to come wipe him off the earth.
The gun lay on my sofa, stark metal, full of deadly promise. I halted, stared.
My car was in my garage now. They’d left it parked outside the house. When I’d reached under the passenger seat, the gun had been there.
The resistance of the trigger as I applied pressure, the kickback of force, it was all there in my head.
If only...
I sat in the armchair then reached across and picked up the pistol, to lay it on my lap among the pink, impressionistic flowers on my dress. Cold and heavy on my thighs. Such a simple way to hurt someone. Bang. I pressed my lips together.
If only I could do it.
I was resting mindlessly in the armchair with my head flopped back, when the urge to leave the house arrived in tsunami fashion. Slosh. There went my peaceful thoughts.
I gasped and sat up.
Like Reuben, not Reuben. Someone else.
Someone else who could grab me and fuck me at will?
What was I? A damn magnet? I wouldn’t move.
A headache arrived. My muscles grew stiff.
Tears squeezed from my eyes. Thick tears, and I dreaded wiping my eyes in case those tears turned out to be blood.
The need heightened and I whimpered. It was surely someone nearby, a stranger inside my house or just outside.
“No!” I whispered. I drew up my legs, tucking myself into a doubled-over position with my head on my thighs. The gun slid off my lap to slip between my body and the arm of the chair.
No.
Trying to resist threatened to crack me open, to split my forehead. Who was this? This was mind rape.
Fuck...fuck.
I flung my arms wide, gripping the armrests, groaning.
There was zero point in resisting.
Whoever this was, I didn’t just want to be with them, I had to be there. One fucked-up roiling mess of desire.
Sighing, I stood and collected my handbag. Wait. With a sideways jump in my thoughts, I found the gun on the armchair by feel alone, without looking...just in case, just in case. I slid the thing inside my handbag, shuffled my feet into my sandals, and headed for the garage.
I found myself driving to the Hilton.
Walking into the foyer dressed in a cheap summer dress and sandals was a little odd when most wore suits and ties and couture clothing, but no one spared me more than a glance.
My sandals clopped on the pale marble floor of the foyer.
The enormous sandstone columns that rose to ceiling height, and the sheer space that was unoccupied by more than a dozen guests – it gave that instant hit that said luxury at a price. What I wouldn’t give to stay here a few nights and pretend the world was mine. What I wouldn’t give to refuse this compulsion.
My body kept me moving toward my appointment with this mystery man.
Or woman? No. It was a man.
I thought about that, the sexual identity attached to this compulsion, and was sure this was a man. I sneaked into the elevator on the heels of a guest and travelled smoothly to the twenty-fifth floor then walked along the carpet-muffled corridor to the correct door.
Whoever this was, he expected me.
I, on the other hand, expected a monster.
Who would this man be and what was his purpose? What would Reuben do if he found out?
My life was already chaos.
I put my hand to my heart to calm it then knocked, or rather I raised my hand to knock and the door opened an inch before I made contact.
“Come in.”
When I placed my palm on the luxuriously smooth, gray paint, I heard him walk away and had to push hard to stop the door closing automatically.
All I saw was his pale ochre shirt and wavy black hair as he entered the room to the left. Not shoulder length but not short. Unruly hair yet deliberately so, I guessed. He didn’t seem a man who would care if his hair looked uncombed.
I could tell that from the way that he walked. Not a stalking sort of walk. Just him, casually dominating the landscape he walked through.
What was I doing? I gulped. This was a stranger. I’d entered the room of a stranger. I had no clue what he wanted, except he commanded me, the same as Reuben did. Surely he couldn’t be worse?
This was a large suite, with a bedroom and bathroom to the right, branching off the entrance anteroom. I went left and paused as the man turned as if to sit in a red armchair. The two sofas were red also, and the room décor was in muted colors that contrasted well with the red.
His back was broad. So far, he was no monster. Just a man, until he turned fully and his face swam into view. Blinking, I strived to focus. Reuben had compelling eyes that leaked horror, because I knew his intentions. This man’s eyes connected to me like power conduits.
Compelling. Dark. So damn dark.
Breathing, thinking, went far, far away.
“You can call me Mister Black. Answer me, please.”
It broke the spell. I swallowed and breathed. “Okay.”
A minor word but I’d answered.
“Come in further, Zorina.” He beckoned as he sat. His words rumbled into my heart and took up residence.
Not good. I needed to shake this off. And couldn’t.
The man was confident, like a businessman assessing a new worker, where Reuben was often derisive, because, I guessed, fucktoys had little worth.
Mouth dry, uneasy, for this could head into hazardous territory so quickly, I entered. I stepped as carefully as he had, until I reached the center of the room. The sofa? Should I sit?
That I’d even asked myself this dismayed me. Where had my own confidence gone? I rustled up my lecturer persona and made for the sofa.
“No.”
Or not. I halted. Such a good puppet I’d become.
His knees a little apart, with his hands together on his lap and his fingertips touching, he watched me. “Does Reuben have you well in hand?”
He knew Reuben? In hand said, under control. Horrible words. Reluctantly, I nodded.
“I believe I will have you kneel, after all.” He dragged a pillow from the sofa and tossed it to the floor in front of me.
There I was, relegated to a lesser status, again.
Kneeling on a pillow reminded me of that first dinner, and I hesitated. The most subtle nudge at my thoughts swung me around and I kneeled, finding the softness of the pillow comforting. Oddly, looking up at him was calming. I’d been fidgety while standing.
That nudge. Was that from him? I tried to meet his eyes again but couldn’t and I dropped my gaze to his hands instead.
This was wrong but I was trapped yet again.
My unnaturally heavy handbag weighed down my hand. It threatened to slip to the floor.
Concentrate on... The shape of his large fingers. The dark weave of the cloth of his pants.
Carefully, I laid the innocent handbag on the floor next to the pillow.
I should be panicking, except he wasn’t, yet, like Reuben. Mister Black gave off a curious sense of solidness, as if he knew the world would wait for him no matter how long he took to accomplish any task.
He took a square glass from the coffee table before him and sipped the amber liquid. Ice cubes clinked.
He had an accent that gave some of his words an odd flip at the end, but it was a mixture and maybe retrained, therefore difficult to pin down. Spanish? Greek? European definitely.
“Early in the day for drinking. Ten o’clock. But I find I ignore society’s conventions more as I grow older. Zorie... May I call you that?”
Being asked things was unnerving after so many days being an it. “Yes.”
“I know Reuben has been fucking you.”
Funny how that word sounded so coarse, as if I wished this Mister Black didn’t know.
“Tell me.” He leaned forward. “I’m wondering how he treats his women...”
His gaze lowered and I could almost tell when he assessed my figure, my breasts, and further down. This man was perhaps only doing what any man might do but with these men, it was an invasive act. I had to force myself not to shift on my knees.
“I think...he treats them badly. You also?”
I stared at the coffee table.
“Answer,” he snapped.
Fuck. I’d jerked. “Yes. He does.”
I could say this to him. It was almost a relief to know I could tell him.
“What has he done to you?”
He wanted this in detail?
“Tell me.”
I blurted, “Does he know about you?”
Silence, while I counted blood beats. Thump thump.
“You ask me? You aren’t the same as other women.”
Wasn’t I?
“Other taken women don’t ask questions.”
Making myself stand out seemed dangerous. I pressed my lips together.
“Tell me what he did to you.” That had been enunciated so slowly that I knew it would be trouble if I didn’t reply.
“Uh.” I shut my eyes while the command ate at me. My willpower was being nibbled at, chewed up, spat out, shredded away to...
Nothing.
“He fucked me in front of others. Made them do it to me too, while I was tied up.” Wetness trailed down my cheeks from my eyes. “They left cum all over me. Left me in a dumpster. I don’t really know how many watched them do it. Maybe none. Maybe a lot. I heard clapping afterward.”
“He has a fetish for degradation then. Not as bad as some. Perhaps not as bad as I was, once upon a time.”
Not as bad as he was?
The monotone delivery of his statement made it chilling. My nipples tightened – as if my body liked that he made a joke about his badness. My reaction scared me. I was falling ever-faster down some steep slope of depravity.
“I wanted an excuse to have him killed and was thinking of getting you to do it. I don’t think that is a good reason.”
What? Had I heard right?
“You should be free of Reuben, eventually, Zorie. We tire of our acquired. I know I do. That’s probably a mercy.”
He tapped his drink.
“You won’t be able to speak of any of this to him or to anyone.”
A word slipped out. “Maybe.”
I hadn’t been able to resist. For so, so long I’d wanted to do awful, homicidal things to Reuben, whenever my mind was able to imagine, and this man had said he might want to kill him.
What if I’d lied and said Reuben had done worse to me?
“You think you could speak about it? Really?”
Those words knifed in.
I’d said too much.
“Even to have that desire is unusual. Are you dangerous to me, Zorie?”
To him? I gulped. “No.”
“What do you want to do to Reuben?”
I clenched my jaw. Again a little nudge made words spill. “Kill him.”
His exhalation was audible then he took another sip from his drink.
“You interest me, Zorie. You’re a lecturer in biology. Intelligent. Middle-class. Well-off but not rich.”
All statements. He didn’t seem to want a reply. The chair made small soft noises as he leaned into it.
“Is there anything else remarkable about you?”
The vagueness of that let me veer away from that one thing I didn’t ever say to anyone. It was too painful, even after all these years, and to him it would surely be unremarkable. To him, all women would be merely prey. He thought killing someone was a minor thing. My mind did that weird little familiar side step. “No.”
“Most people have something they boast of.”
Boast? Hell no. I stayed mute.
Mister Black had shiny black shoes, I realized. All of him was businesslike – even his shirt seemed one he’d wear beneath a business jacket. The creases and shoelaces and buttons were precise. Maybe he was here to tidy me up, to sweep me into a dustpan and into a bin. Maybe he was Reuben’s man?
Mister Black had tricked me... No. I recognized he’d used his will on my mind, to make me say a truth that I would never have told Reuben. My hands were shaking where I clasped them together, but I whispered out my question. “Are you going to kill me?”
“Why would I? No.”
I wasn’t sure I should believe him.
“If that’s the worst Reuben does, I should be done with you. I’d like to keep you but I shouldn’t. You are not to tell him of me. Or anyone about me.”
That statement was final: Word. Lock. No key.
But, he’d like to keep me? Why did that sound enticing? He said he was as bad as Reuben.
Mister Black stood and walked to me, until his big black shoes were there, beside my folded leg.
“Will you tell anyone?”
I sighed, wanting to bang my head on that floor beside his shoe. God help me. These men were like sticky gum. I couldn’t get rid of their influence no matter how I tried.
“No. I won’t.”
“Imagine a policeman, in front of you, asking you questions. Could you tell him, phone him, write it down? What has happened to you – any of it? About Reuben or myself?”
Commanded, I imagined. My toes curled and for a second I wondered. Maybe... But, no. “No. I couldn’t.” My head lowered as I was stricken by the horrible finality of this. “No.”
“Good. Not many women succumb to this ability we have. I know Reuben found you in Darwin.”
“Yes,” I said softly. I’d just admitted to never being able to tell. I had clung to the hope that my compulsion to lie would one day fail.
“Am I going to kill you? No. I might’ve made use of you. I’d never kill you. I’m sure Reuben doesn’t deserve you. Give me your hand.”
Said so smoothly. It was a compliment, I supposed. What did he mean by make use of? That sounded ominous, like keeping me, only worse. Without looking up from his shoes, I raised my arm. I felt him take my hand, turn it over, and place his thumb on the palm.
The shock rolled in, as overpowering as when Reuben touched me. I closed my eyes and let it run its course.
“I’d like to see you.” He released my hand. “Take off your dress.”
The sexual miasma these men wielded shuddered through me, invading every atom of my body.
Mr. Black’s will was so quiet I had trouble telling when he used it on me, but my fingers were already pulling at the sides of my dress. Me dangerous? Mr. Black was far more dangerous than I could ever be.
With my dress pulled over my head, I put the garment to one side and stayed there, kneeling, with my hands in my lap. I could feel his eyes upon me. A shiver built and my nipples became hard little buttons beneath my bra. My breathing turned ragged.
“Reuben is definitely lucky. You’re very desirable. Even to men like me, and I’ve had hundreds of lovers.”
His words swept me like a perversion of a sigh. If ever a man could be a siren, this was he. Where Reuben’s words and will were blunt hammers, Mister Black’s were scripture written on the wind.
Was he trying to make me feel good? Because he had. That awful tightness had lifted from my chest.
This man was nice. Too nice.
The air in the room became sparse. My breasts rose and fell so rapidly it demoralized me. Concealing my arousal was impossible, but in this moment, I wished I could’ve hidden it more than anything in the world. I knew what men like Mister Black liked to do.
He walked a half circle around me. I heard the distinctive scrape then slide and musical tinkle of a belt buckle being slipped through the loops of pants – a herald as ominous as the slither of a snake. My dress slid away from me as he picked it up and tossed it onto the chair. My handbag, he knocked it with his foot then pushed it aside. The leather flap uncurled and opened, revealing the dark insides of my bag and a hint of gun metal.
I bowed my head, looked away, and swallowed my misgivings.
“What was that?” Swiftly, he arrived beside me, on one knee.
A tinny sound keened in my ears.
“What do you fear?”
Nothing, nothing, nothing. But my eyes were disobedient and slowly turned to focus on the bag that held the gun.
“This?” His hand, like some independent creature, searched in the bag and came out with my gun. He showed it to me, letting me see every part while that fear plucked at my throat. “You brought a gun with you? Look at me, Zorie.”
I met his eyes then played with my lips with my tongue, nervous as hell but not ready to leave this earth. Not yet. Not yet. I had bad men to kill.
“Yes.” I was going to die, after all. Reuben would’ve fed me to dogs for this, I was sure, after making them fuck me. “Yes. I did,” I whispered.
Not being able to lie was such a curse.
“I see.” He straightened and placed the gun on the sofa beside my dress. If I lunged, I could get it. “Thinking about grabbing it?”
Fuck. I nodded, blinking crazily as I tried not to speak.
“And could you use it on me?”
Ahhh. Bastard for exposing this. I needed something secret at my core. Some rebelliousness, some magic. My thighs suffered as I bunched my hands into fists, scraping my nails along my upper legs. “No! Fuck. I couldn’t.” I sobbed, swiped at my eyes. “I hate you.”
“Don’t hurt yourself.”
I nodded, and hated that I’d done that too.
“I think you hate Reuben and your need to obey. Not me.” Mister Black placed his hand on my head and patted me gently. “The lust we create is addictive. Anything entangled with that lust becomes a priority for you. The compulsion to obey grows. It will become a part of you, forever. That need to obey can mean not telling anyone about the arrangement you have with us. No matter how badly you’re treated, as long as the lust has you, you stay loyal.”
Did this power they had create bad men, or were they born that way?
“Most accept it. I don’t know if you ever will. You’re an odd one, Zorie.”
He thought there was a way around this though, that he could teach me to kill men like him. That was stunning.
The end of his freed belt swayed and bumped against his pants.
“Bend over more, with your head low and your hands at your back.”
Shit. I tried again, tried and tried to resist, and failed.
Trembling, I did as he asked until my face was a foot from the rug and my hands clasped behind me. I felt the toe of his shoe press on my skin, just above my panties, and nudge my fingers. Bent over as I was, the split of my ass would be showing above the elastic. His shoe scraped lightly downward, dragging my panties with it. Lower, lower still, until he shuffled my panties all the way down and they only clung to me at the front where the cloth was caught by my body.
“Nice,” he murmured.
I felt on display, in a way Reuben had never managed. My slit moistened. This was like the moment before Godzilla stomped on a city.
When would he stomp on me?
When, would he...
The buckle end of his belt grazed my shoulders, clicking, clinking lightly then the cool metal travelled over my back and along my spine. As my awareness heightened, my skin seemed to rise above itself.
“We gather power and wealth as well as women. It seems to come with the ability to control. The temptation of power... Does it corrupt? Yes. For some more than others. I’ve seen it happen.”
Mister Black didn’t seem to care if I spoke. Already I knew so much more. If only I could use that information.
“Why are you telling me all this?” I lifted my head a little.
“To reassure you. I see no reason to keep you ignorant.”
He could tell I was worried? How far could he look inside my mind?
One finger touched me at the angle of neck and shoulder. I gasped. My mouth stayed open and my eyelids fluttered.
Sensation kindled from the mere brush of his skin on mine.
“Head down more. Keep your hands where they are.”
He’d segued into the instruction so fast I was flustered. My desire and his will laced through me in skeins of elegant fire. I did as he asked, kept wrist to wrist, and also pressed my thighs together, hard enough to squeeze my clit.
It centered me.
Here.
Now.
I needed him...
And didn’t want to.
Mister Black squatted beside me. His scent fell through me like jungle rain. He put his hand on my shoulder, one finger sliding beneath my bra strap.
“Tell me, did you like what Reuben did to you? Have you ever had dreams about being fucked by men like what he did?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“Because I’ve found all susceptible women have such erotic fantasies.”
Oh, he was a monster after all. I shook my head. Not that. Being screwed by three men with my face tied to metal bars? That would be insane, liking that for real, but my clit, which was already in a happy state of early arousal, swelled more.
“I... Not... Not...”
“Truth!”
The no I wanted to say was so concrete it lodged in my throat, solid.
His hand screwed into my hair and he hauled my head back at an angle until my neck muscles protested. My scalp on fire with pain, I squeaked.
He smiled down into my eyes. “Tell me.”
“Fuck.” The truth was... It was... “Yes,” I croaked. “I loved it and I have had fantasies like that.”
“Thank you.”
Except I hadn’t admitted that to myself until he made me say it.
“Erotic fantasies aren’t meant to be real,” I blurted.
That smile of his made my consciousness swim away.
Then he released my hair, letting me collapse and swing my head down onto my thighs. My hair made a cave as it fell about me, a red cave where I could hide from the monster. He gripped my wrists and roughly laced them together with the belt.
“Please,” I whispered, half to myself. “Don’t take it all. I need some of me...”