“Nice,” he says, making the word slither from his mouth though it barely counts as a sibilant. “Guess you can’t rescue your woman even if you want to,” he says, the tone mocking. “Guess you’ll just have to sit there and watch.”
He’s still playing the part I told him to. The knowledge socks home with an audible thump of relief.
“Sugar,” I state, waiting for him to back off, acknowledge the safe word. He tugs at my robe, easily pulling it free, no sign of understanding on his face. “Red,” I try when his grip on my wrist grows stronger. “Red, red, red.”
The spare twist ties are on the edge of the bed, ready for if Trent wanted his legs secured. Andy grabs one, drawing it around my wrist and the bedpost while my heart tries to pound through my ribcage. I flail my spare hand, terrified of being fully restrained, but that just gives him an opportunity to grab it.
“Now, now,” he says in the same teasing voice which means I don’t know if he understands what he’s doing or not. “No fighting. You’ll just hurt yourself.” His voice drops lower, becomes more guttural. “Or you’ll force me to hurt you, which amounts to the same thing.”
“Don’t… Let her go,” Trent shouts, struggling harder.
“Don’t let her go,” Andy summarises with a broad smirk. “Gotcha. Wasn’t planning to, mate. Not until I’ve finished fucking her in front of you. Hope you’ve got those eyes peeled because it’s going to be a lovely sight.”
He drags me onto the bed, wrestling me until my other wrist is also secured to the post. Then he picks up another tie, squinting at it and at me before he wraps it around my neck, the press of the plastic sending my heart racing, my blood pressure soaring until my eyes bug out of my head.
“Don’t… Please, Andy. This isn’t part of the game. Please stop.”
Trent yells again, kicking out uselessly, the chair placed too far away to reach the bed. He tries leaning forward, trying to stand and lift the seat onto his back, but the weight is too concentrated in the base and legs.
“Stop making all that noise,” Andy barks, pulling the edges of the tie through the top slat in the base board, the circle so tight it only clicks in twice before he lets go. My cheek is flat against the wood, any movement threatening to cut off my air.
He moves to the bedside cabinet, eyes scanning the contents. Then he’s out of my limited view but I hear the unmistakable sound of masking tape being wound off the roll. The snap as he cuts it with his teeth. Then Trent’s ferocious yells are muffled.
Fuck.
Part of me still clutches the idea that this is a misunderstanding. I curse myself for bringing up the fantasy when I should have known better.
This is what happens when you don’t know and trust the other participants. I’ve got the forced cuck scene that Trent thought he wanted but neither of us is willing any longer.
None of this is what I want. Whatwewant.
“Sugar,” I try again, though his lack of response to the first utterance hollows out my chest.
“Sugar,”he mimics, climbing on the bed behind me so he’s out of my field of vision.“Red.”
I sob, the sound caught in my throat, bumping against the thick edge of the tie, and stopping.
“Such a beautiful scene,” Andy says in a croon, the sound invasive as an earworm. “You can’t imagine how often I’ve pictured this exact scenario. Lying in bed at night, watching what my cameras picked up during the day.”
A bucket of ice water in the face couldn’t be as shocking as those words.
My body freezes in fright, mind racing to connect the dots. Scrabbling for alternative theories because the obvious one is too frightening.
I try to place him. How does he know me?
He looked vaguely familiar or is that just because I saw what he wanted me to see?
Panic freezes me in place. My head is a jumbled, chaotic mess. Questions pile up behind my lips.
Too many. Too late.
“You planted the cameras in the flat?”
My voice should be as filled with hysterics as my thoughts, but it sounds calm. Far calmer than Trent as he struggles and shouts muffled vehemence behind his sealed lips.
“I did,” Andy confirms. He reaches between my legs, flicking aside the dental floss of my thong until he can shove a finger inside.
I’m wet from my interactions with Trent but that doesn’t stop his brutal invasion from being painful. Another sob catches in my throat and I force it into retreat. I can’t afford the luxury of tears when my life is at stake.
