He taught me to ignore pain. He taught me to complete the mission no matter what. He taught me to be strong and capable above all things, and so far I’ve lived my life that way.
Even if I hate the orders, once I accept a contract I have to do what I’m told.
There’s a part of me that hates how much I’m enjoying this. It’s sick as fuck that I love the challenge of building her a prison in a short timeframe. I know the drugs will wear off in about another two hours, maybe even less, so I have to keep moving fast. I like keeping busy and building things, but I like staring at my princess. Her scarred body only makes me want to know her more.
Those are dangerous thoughts. She needs to remain just a subject to me, not a person. I can’t risk getting close to her. That’s the danger with this sort of thing: sometimes you see beyond the story you’re telling yourself, and the thing in front of you can turn into a person.
Once the room is clear, I stand in the middle and look around. The cage is in the back left corner, the bathroom is on the right, and the rest of the room is empty. There are two small windows, but they aren’t nearly large enough for her to get through. Plus, they’re unbreakable and soundproofed. She can scream, but there’s nobody around for miles. I have video cameras set up in the ceiling, and I can see every inch of her enclosure, including the bathroom. The door is impervious to both blasts and tampering and will only open with my fingerprint. When I had this room built, I didn’t spare any expenses. No one can get in or out without my help. It’s the perfect prison for her.
I’m about to leave, when I suddenly have an idea. It comes to me like lightning. It’s the perfect way to get to her, to peel back her layers and force her to show everything to me.
It’s like a game, or maybe it’s something like pity for what she’s been through before. Either way, it’s a tool.
The cage will be her safe space.
I stare at it and remember my childhood. I remember the girls and the men doing whatever they wanted to them. I remember how they cried at first, but quickly their faces became consumed with pleasure. They learned to enjoy it.
I remember how it excited me. I remember how ashamed of that I was, and still am.
I've decided. So long as she’s in the cage, I won’t touch her. That’ll be the deal I make with her. If she stays in that bear cage, she’ll be safe from me. It’s a few feet wide and long, and large enough that she can stand.
But if she leaves it, then she’s mine. She’ll break and leave that cage with time, and I’ll do whatever I want with her. And I’ll make sure she enjoys it. If she retreats, I’ll leave her alone. I’ll give her food and water, and the comfort of a blanket.
My heart thuds in my chest. I glance into the bathroom and see her in the tub. She’s fucking gorgeous, and I picture her crawling from the cage, begging me to come into the room and teach her a lesson.
I grin to myself. It’s the perfect little game. I need to earn her trust if I’m going to make her mine, and the cage is going to be the key to that trust.
You can’t just force a person to break. It doesn’t really work that way. You can beat and starve them all you want, but if you never gain their trust, then it’s all over. This cage will be her safety net, and I’ll be the man who gives her that safety.
I can feel the darkness inside of me celebrating as excitement courses through my veins. I’m at war with myself, hating these sick little thoughts that I’ve been trained to embrace, and yet aroused at the prospect of playing with her.
It doesn’t hurt that she’s so fucking beautiful, and with a fight in her that I admire.
I walk into the bathroom and kneel down at her side. Her wounds are cleaned and bandaged, and soon the drugs will wear off. She’ll wake up and she won’t know where she is, but she’ll be safe. I’ll explain the rules of the game to her.
And then we’ll play.
I reach into the tub and scoop her up, carrying her back into the main room and gently place her inside of the cage. I leave the door open, but I make sure she’s completely in there. It isn’t comfortable, but at least it’s safe.
I give her one last look before I leave her room, shutting the door behind me.
Chapter 8
Grace
* * *
My body’s so sore. It hurts from where he hit me. Daddy never hit me before. I don’t understand...
* * *
I was so little, so scared. Right after my birthday party. Only six. Mommy said we should leave. She took me from bed late at night and carried me into the hallway. Mommy, no. “We can’t leave Daddy!” She covered my mouth and stared at the door. It was their bedroom door. Mommy and Daddy’s room. We can’t leave Daddy!
I didn’t understand. I was scared. My heart raced in my chest. The fear in my mother’s eyes is something I’ll never forget. We almost made it down the stairs. Her hand over my mouth as she carried me in her arms.
But he grabbed her hair. Daddy was so quiet until he yanked her backward, the pain on her face evident as I fell from her arms, crashing onto the stairs and tumbling down. She screamed as he hit her over and over.
It hurt so much. My hands covered the gash on my head.
