Hear Me (12 page)

Cold sea spray lashed my face as he picked up speed.

I glanced nervously at the tree-lined beaches, all alike and unfamiliar. “Do you know where we’re going?” I asked dumbly. “I’m sorry, do you speak English?”

I thought he wasn’t going to answer, but then he said, “Carpintero, eh?”

The dictionary, carpintero… carpenter!

“Yes, that’s right!” Relief swept through me, solidified when I sighted the pebble beach with what looked like a large rocky overgrowth—the cave. They must have figured out where I needed to go from my bumbling attempts. Or maybe we were just the only Americanos in the vicinity.

He cut the engine, and we drifted until the hull batted against the rocky floor. Taking off my shoes, I jumped into the shallow water.
I’m coming, Sam.

“Oh, did you need payment too?” I turned back, but the man had already pushed it away with an oar in the water. As I watched, he clanged the wrench on the engine casing and sped away, landing a fresh spray of water over my suit.

I cut the soles of my feet to ribbons along the beach. I glanced with longing and anticipation at the beach. There was a parallel to our play, that the payoff was all the sweeter when I had paid from my body.

Or maybe I was just giddy.
Oh, Sam.

I passed the clearing where he had felled the tree and followed the path toward his cabin. The rain had stopped, but everything was wet with it, light reflecting off slippery branches, leaves quivering with weighty drops, everything bright with anticipation.

There it was, so small and humble and proud at once. My heart swelled. This was home.

I knocked on the door with abandon. “Sam!”

When he didn’t answer, I checked the knob and went inside. “It’s me, Melody. Where are you?”

Everything looked like I had left it, except the black trunk was missing. I spared a quick frown for the empty corner before checking the two bedrooms, the bathroom, the kitchen—all empty. He must be in the workroom. Stumbling through the back door, I ran across the yard and burst in on the room.

The discordant piles of furniture had disappeared; in its place stood a bedroom… of sorts.

A bed was clearly the focal point, built with wood of rich caramel. There was a side table, a drawer. And beside those ordinary things, I recognized the spanking bench. A few other standalone pieces, whose overall shapes I recognized from the dungeon that I remembered from my time in slavery, all designed to hurt.

Blood raced through my veins, and for a moment, I was back there, running through the woods, away, away. A man’s voice calling, “Melody!” Who had been chasing me?

I had told Sam when I remembered my life back home. He had said,
You please me, Melody.
But I had never told him my name. Confusion and dread knotted in my stomach.

What had I done?

In a trance, I crept toward the bed, as if the intricate carving in the headboard would have my answer. A nymph stood by a river, her hands covering her ears, mouth open. Her expression was a mixture of horror and fear, like a reflection of my own heart.

“That’s Echo,” said a voice behind me.

I whirled around to see Sam come inside and casually close the door. He was wearing a red plaid shirt, hung open to reveal a white undershirt, and his well-worn jeans. How could he look so beautiful and ordinary at the same time? He had brought the smell of the woods in with him, and I realized he must have been out for a hike, perhaps chopping another tree. My sweet, harmless lumberjack—how wrong I had been.

“Sam, no,” I whispered.

He sat down on a stool, hooked his boots in the rungs. “Some people think she slept with Zeus, but that’s not true.”

“It’s mythology. None of it’s true.”

“Don’t interrupt,” he said mildly. “But Echo didn’t sleep with Zeus, or maybe she did, but that’s not what got her in trouble. It was because she helped him go off and rape all those little mortal girls by distracting his wife. It was Hera who put the curse on her. Echo can’t speak unless spoken to. She can only repeat what others have said.”

I hugged myself, gripping the wet, ragged silk of my suit. “Why are you doing this?”

“The story has a sad ending. Echo falls in love with a man, Narcissus, but he doesn’t want her.” Sam slanted me a look. “Obviously he doesn’t realize what he has in her. So poor rejected Echo lives in the woods, pining and fading away until all that’s left of her is her voice.”

I bolted for the door, made it just outside before his hands gripped my legs and dragged me back in. My fingers clasped dirt and then nothing, helpless on the wooden floor.

“But I’m not going to let that happen to you,” he whispered against my ear. “You see, I’m never going to let you go.”

He released me, and I scrambled away. I huddled against the far wall, panting, while he considered me thoughtfully, not having broken a sweat. He closed the door, locking us inside.

“There’s an alternate ending to the story. In this one, there was a god who fell in love with her. Echo, being rather cursed, rejects him. He gets so angry that he sends his followers. They tear her apart, Melody. Her pieces are scattered across the Earth.”

I began to shake. “Is that what you did to Amanda?”

His face darkened, with pain not anger. “I would never have hurt her that way. And I’ll never hurt you like that. You know that. You trusted me once.”

“Never again,” I spat.

He rubbed his forehead. “You’ll need time to adjust, but I hate to see you like this. It may be hard to believe right now, but I do love you. If I didn’t, I’d ship you back to Brendan well-used. That was the plan, but it changed pretty quickly once I met you.
You
changed my mind.”

His expression softened, turned rueful. “You’re the whole package, smart and sexy, but your capacity for submission is a beautiful thing. So sweet, begging me to collar you.” He held up a round silver collar.

This was what I wanted, dreamed of, but not like this. “Wait, please.”

“This one’s not leather. It’s not coming off.” He approached me.

I cringed away from him, holding my hands over my head.

“Shh,” he soothed. “Don’t look so terrified. It’s unnerving. I’m going to take care of you. I’m going to hurt you, just a little, and then make you come. It’s not a very scary proposition. What more do you want?”

“Freedom,” I whispered.

“Freedom’s an illusion. We all live in prisons of our own making. You picked this one. Kinky games in the city wasn’t enough for you, but those men were too brutal. Little Goldilocks, walking into houses that aren’t yours. This will be just right for you, Melody. I promise you that.”

“Brendan will come find me.” When had the man I feared become my potential savior?

“I don’t think so. Not after the way we left things last time.” His expression hardened. “Brendan didn’t deserve you.”

“This was only another one of your competitions.” I was indignant. “He cheated on you with your girlfriend so now I’m just… just
payback
.”

He chuckled softly. “Are you really upset because we fought over you? Or worried that I don’t really care about you? What an insecure little girl. And look, I’ve told you I loved you and you haven’t even said it back.”

I stared at him mutinously. He’d be waiting a long time for that.

He softened. “Isn’t this what you came here for? You wanted to be my girl, didn’t you? My little subby?”

It seemed like a trick, surely it was. But I didn’t really have a choice, and besides, it was the truth. I nodded.

“You want to be my sub, but now that you’re here you’re trying to set the terms.” His expression was disapproving but indulgent. “No, subby. That’s not how this works.”

Sam held my hair aside with a tenderness that made me ache. I stayed still as he latched the collar around my neck and locked it. Overcome, I rested my cheek against his thigh. Was it true? I had come here to beg to be his sub. I had accepted that meant his authority over me, including how I lived, so what had really changed?

“That’s my good girl,” he said, stroking my hair.

“Master, you scared me.” My voice trembled.

“I know.” His thumb rubbed softly across the nape of my sneck, where the metal had warmed. He accepted the truth of my words without apology, but with comfort.
This is how it will be
.

I spilled tears of hope, unable to speak. He had promised to find the middle ground between play and horror, which was only everything I ever wanted. If I had come back here to find him pining for me, if he had sat down with a D/s contract, it would have been a dream. Instead I had come here to submit to his will, and this was it. I had come here to live under his care and control, and here I was.

A small, secret smile curved my lips. I looked down at the floor until I realized I didn’t need to hide myself anymore. Turned my face to my master, I said, “I really do love you.”

His eyes shone with possession and pride, and both feelings were reflected in my heart.

“I know, subby.”

It was just like he promised. That night, and each one after that, he made me scream in pain and pleasure, and no one ever heard but him.

THE END

Thank you for reading Hear Me!

He horrified readers in Keep Me Safe and Trust in Me. Carlos is cruel, fearless, and irredeemable. Meet the woman who brings him to his knees in…

DON’T LET GO

coming 2013

ESCAPE

Included here is a bonus short story set in the same Dark Erotica world as Hear Me. The protagonist of this story was held captive in the same location. This was her escape.

Tiffany crawled over the damp concrete, ignoring the thick moldy grime beneath her hands and knees. Ignoring the way her torn skin and cramped muscles screamed at her to stop. None of it mattered when her life was at stake.

She would not cower. She would not break.

Even though her plan had worked, she was far from safe.

Safety had become a foreign concept exactly four weeks and three days ago. The cab she’d taken from the airport in Cancun had driven her, not to her hotel, but to a warehouse. From that moment, her life was over, but the pain never stopped.

After the four agonizing months of training, her captors were moving her and the other women. For two weeks she’d scraped and dug into the crumbly rock behind the metal toilet. It would never lead outside, but the hole was big enough for her to crawl into, and that’s what she’d done as the men swept through the cells.

She’d mouthed off the night before and landed in the infirmary. Then she pretended to be fine, almost killing herself in the process, just so they’d release her back into her cell. She counted on the confusion about her actual location and the bustle of the transit.

Shockingly, it worked. They opened her door and glanced inside, and then moved on, leaving the door open.

She felt bad about the muffled cries of the other women, but she couldn’t help them, not when she could barely help herself.

The whole thing had been a massive risk. Not only could they have found her, but they might have left the cell door locked. She’d have preferred to starve than go with them.

Tiffany huddled in the wall for hours after the last ringing footsteps had faded, sure that they would realize their mistake and come back for her. Or maybe they’d jump out at her from the walls once she emerged, laughing at the futility of her hope.

The halls were empty.

The sound of her ragged breathing and her skin dragging across the floor intruded on the stillness. She passed each cell as if she were still a prisoner – with her eyes straight ahead. She didn’t want to see the small, barren cells with the thin, infested bedrolls. She didn’t want to wonder about the dark spots staining the concrete.

Light leaked through the doorframe, blinding her. Sunlight so thick she thought she’d have been able to taste it if it weren’t for the dank remains of stale bodily fluids lining her mouth.

Her body vibrated, as if her very bones felt the imminence of freedom. She had no idea where the warehouse was located or if she could survive long enough to find help, but even if she died, she’d die free.

The door creaked open at the touch of her fingertips. She managed to stand, slowly, shakily, and take a step out into the bright white ether. She savored the heat on her upturned face, the light wind that stroked her greasy hair. She’d made it.

The approaching rumble of a motor snapped her from euphoria. She darted for a copse of trees and made it inside just as an open topped jeep skidded in front of the building. Armed men burst from the vehicle before it was even fully stopped. Their guns were drawn as they entered the empty building.

Oh God. They must have realized she was missing and come back for her.

She didn’t recognize the men or the vehicle, but that didn’t mean anything at all. It would take them only minutes to realize she wasn’t in the warehouse and then they would look outside.

Tiffany turned and crashed through the brush. Branches whipped at her legs and grabbed at her hair, but she tore through them like the hunted animal she was. Footsteps pounded behind her, giving her a last burst of speed.

“Wait! Stop,” a voice called, but she would rather die.

* * *

The wood split beneath his axe with a satisfying crack. Alex wiped the stinging sweat from his eyes. He welcomed the small pain as his due and only wiped it so he wouldn’t send the axe into his foot next. Although maybe that was what he needed. Maybe that would finally be enough.

But he knew it wouldn’t.

There was no amount of pain he could inflict on himself that would equal what those women had gone through. Even if he tried, none of it would help them.

Nothing would help them. He’d seen that himself when he’d sat helplessly at Tiffany Scott’s bedside. Even under heavy sedation she’d screamed and thrashed from the pain or the nightmares. He hadn’t been able to do anything for her but badger and bully the doctor for higher doses until the man had threatened to have his visitation rights removed.