My stomach clenches. Even if I could find something to help me escape, it’s impossible now with him watching me like a hawk.
It’s a struggle to pull down my jeans and panties with myhands tied but after a long humiliating minute, I managed it.
It takes me a few seconds before I can relax enough to pee under his scrutinous gaze. Such an intimate act shouldn’t require an audience, especially whensaidaudience is a perverted psychopath. I close my eyes and do my best to pretend he’s not here and that this isn’t really happening, but it’s difficult.
Shame seeps through me as I’m finally able to empty my bladder, tears burning in the backs of my eyes while the heat of his gaze burns my skin. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so vulnerable and degraded in my life.
When I’m done, I have to stretch to reach the roll of toilet paper, struggling to unravel it with my still-bound hands.
“Need a hand?” Naylor asks, pushing off the wall and taking a step towards me. I don’t have to look up at him to know he’s grinning, enjoying every second of this torture.
The sick bastard.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I spit, doing my best to wipe and tug my pants and underwear back up without giving him a glimpse between my legs.
He gives me a few seconds to flush and wash my hands before he takes my upper arm and tugs me back into the bedroom. He shoves me back onto the chair, repositions my hands behind me and tapes my ankles to each chair leg, his head practically between my knees.
He brings his head up to meet my eyes, the look he gives me sends a shiver of dread through me. He could do anything to me and there’s not a single thing I could do to stop him. He outweighs me in both strength and size.
My breath locks up in my throat as his hands grip my knees and spreads my legs wider. He slides them up the outside ofmy thighs, stopping as his fingertips graze my panties, the waistband poking out underneath my jeans.
“Mmm…” he groans. “I can see why Killian is so taken with you. You’re a beautiful girl. It’s a shame I’m not able to fuck you properly.” He leans forward, pressing his face against the apex of my thighs, taking a deep inhale. “I haven’t had pussy in so goddamn long…”
“Get off me.” I struggle beneath them, my ass bucking up off the seat in an attempt to get him to release me, but all it does is push my pussy closer to his face.
He chuckles. “But I can still do this.”
“No!” I scream as he flicks the button on my jeans, his hand diving beneath the waistband and into my panties. “Stop!”
I’m bone dry and I cry out when he spears two long rough fingers into me.
I sit frozen in the chair, my teeth sinking into the inside of my cheek to keep my whimpers at bay, forced to endure the assault as he violates me with his fingers.
After what feels like an hour, he finally pulls his fingers out and sucks them into his mouth.
My lips curl in disgust, my stomach curdling.
“Mmm,” he moans as his eyes drift closed. “Just as sweet as I imagined.”
He pulls his fingers from his mouth with a pop before he rises to his feet, not bothering to put my clothes back in place as he heads for the door.
“I’ll be right downstairs if you need me.”
45
The second I hear the TV downstairs blaring through the empty house, I tug on the tape binding my wrists together. My wrists scream as I pull as hard as I can, but still the tape doesn’t snap. That’s when my fingers catch on something. It’s a sharp piece of wood that’s splintered on the back of the chair. It’s only a centimetre or two in length, but I wonder…
I bring my duct-taped wrists to it and begin rubbing, wearing down the tape, hoping the splinter of wood is enough to break it.
My arms ache from the repetitiveness of the action, but I have to try. I can’t let Naylor use me to get to Killian. I won’t.
Ihave to get out of here.Now.
I don’t know how long I have until he comes back up here, but I don’t give up. It’s at least five minutes of rubbing before the tape snaps and my wrists are finally free.
Yes!
I tear off the tape from my wrists before starting on my ankles. Once they’re both free, I rise from the chair, tiptoeing across the room towards the door. I open the bedroom door a fraction, listening closely to any sign of movement downstairs. My heart pounds in my chest as I slip through the gap and take the stairs one at a time, sticking close to the edge of the steps to avoid the floorboards from giving me away.
