The Abduction of Kelsey (16 page)

“You had a car parked at Sal’s?” The cop frowned.

Stick to as much of the truth as you can.
“No. I have a parking space in the car garage next to the bank. We walked down together and then I gave her a ride. She didn’t say anything about quitting either. I didn’t get that message until the next morning when I went into the office.”

“Where did you drop her? What stop?”

James told them, silently congratulating himself that he knew exactly where Kelsey got on and off the bus, along with where she shopped for groceries, where she lived, and a whole lot more, not that he’d ever let them know that. Instead, he said, “Man, this is really awful. I hope nothing’s happened to her. Yeah, she was irresponsible, but she was a sweet kid. If there’s any way I can help…” He held out his hands, palms up and looked at each cop in turn.

“Keep your eyes and ears open,” said the older cop as he hoisted himself to his feet. The young cop handed James a card. “If you hear anything or think of anything that might be useful, give us a call.”

James took the card and shoved it into his pocket “I will,” he promised. “Gosh, I hope you find her. I hope she’s okay.”

“You too,” the younger cop said. “Hang in there.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

James walked the cops to the screen door, and watched as they got into their unmarked vehicle. The young cop climbed behind the wheel, while the fat one scribbled something on his pad. Finally they drove away.

James went back into the house and collapsed onto the couch. He felt as if he’d just run a marathon. His muscles had turned to jelly, his hands were shaking, his heart beating so fast he thought he might pass out.

He lay back against the couch, taking deep, slow breaths until he could calm himself down. Everything was okay. Those cops were just doing their duty, going through the motions, checking all the leads. They hadn’t even asked to come inside the house. He wasn’t a suspect.

He realized now what a horrible, stupid risk he’d taken in going back to her apartment, but apparently no one had noticed his coming or going in that big, impersonal complex in which she had lived. He would be even more careful going forward. Kelsey’s cell phone was in the trunk of his car, along with her purse. Thank goodness he’d thought to remove the cell battery. He would dispose of her things as soon as possible. He would hide them in a bag of garbage and take the bag to the local dump. He would make sure Kelsey never left the cabin. She wouldn’t even be allowed on the screened-in porch anymore. At least not until this whole missing person thing had well and truly blown over.

Maybe he would change her name and color her hair. They could drive down to Texas or Mexico or somewhere and start a whole new life, where no one knew them. But for now he would lie low. It might look suspicious if he suddenly took off. He would touch base with Reynolds, let him know he was leaving the bank for good, and then bide his time until it was safe to move his precious cargo out of the state.

He sat up, feeling much better. He held out his hands in front of him, pleased to see they were steady as rocks. His breathing had returned to normal and he was no longer sweating. He’d handled things brilliantly with the cops. They hadn’t suspected a thing. And Kelsey, darling Kelsey, wonderful Kelsey, hadn’t made a peep. He would let her eat a whole sandwich for lunch, and a peach too.

He stood and moved toward the bedroom. Opening the door slowly, he peered in. She was lying on her side, her back toward him. Her lovely ass was crisscrossed with welts and there were even a few marks on her slender back and pretty shoulders.

He’d
done that. He’d marked his property, while teaching her to accept her place as his obedient wife. They would start the blog entry right after lunch, he decided. Despite her little slipup earlier, he deemed her ready.

As he approached her, his cock twitched in anticipation. Reaching into his shorts, he stroked it, pleased to see it was already erect, despite his having fucked her only an hour ago, and despite the cops sending him into a temporary tailspin.

Everything was fine now. Better than fine. His eyes on his prize, he quickly stripped off his shirt and shorts. He approached the bed and reached for Kelsey’s shoulder, pulling her over onto her back. As he straddled her chest, her green eyes opened wide, her lovely lips parting in surprise.

Putting his hands lightly around her throat, he pushed his cock into her pretty mouth and closed his eyes. Ah, life was good.

Kelsey sat cross-legged on the throw rug beside James’ desk chair. She stared down at the legal pad on her lap, her pen poised, her mind blank. She knew what James expected—he’d read her enough of the endless, nauseating blogs written by brainwashed women and their deluded partners—but she couldn’t seem to make her brain perform the necessary functions to get words onto the page.

At least her stomach was full, almost uncomfortably so. After the beating that morning Kelsey had fallen into a fitful sleep. James had woken her with a tray of food, and instead of the usual two or three bites, he’d let her eat the entire sandwich, plus a peach and a big glass of iced tea. Maybe the prick was feeling guilty.

Kelsey closed her eyes, trying to let go of the negative energy building inside her. It wasn’t good to resist. It only made things worse.
Positive thoughts. Focus on the good things. Anger is destructive. He’ll sense it and he’ll punish you. James loves you. He takes care of you. This is your life now.

She stole a glance at James. He was shirtless, wearing his favorite khaki shorts. His right hand was resting lightly over his crotch, his mouth hanging open, his eyes glued to the screen, though whether he was reading from one of his favorite blogs or staring at naked girls, Kelsey couldn’t tell. At least he was leaving her alone, for the moment anyway.

Kelsey glanced down at the welt on her left breast. She could feel welts on her back, ass and thighs too, though she didn’t dare shift her position to try and see, not with James right there beside her. She tried to recall what heinous crime she’d committed to deserve such brutal treatment. His words came back to her.
You forgot one of the prime rules of wifely submission. A wife doesn’t voice what she does or does not want. She asks what would please her husband, and no more.

Okay, so she’d fucked up. She’d forgotten the rules, but did that really merit the savage beating that had followed?

You were disobedient. Don’t question him. Do what he says. You belong to him. To resist is to suffer. Focus on the good.

She knew she should listen to that voice of reason. James quite literally held her life in his hands. She knew better than to break the rules. Why was it suddenly so hard to control the rage she thought she’d conquered?

Because something was different now. Somehow that beating had reawakened a part of her that had been lying dormant during this time of forced captivity. She realized she’d been sinking deeper and deeper into a kind of trance, a self-induced pretense to make her lot bearable. How long until it was no longer pretense, but her reality? How long until she’d shut down completely, giving herself over to James’ constant brainwashing and subjugation?

But was this sudden awareness any better? Stripped of her coping mechanism of denial and acceptance, she felt emotionally naked—shivering with rage, raw with pain and anger.
I don’t belong to you,
she wanted to scream.
I belong to myself. I am my own person. I’m not your fucking obedient wife.

“How’s it going, Kelsey? You making progress? Let me see what you’ve written so far.”

Kelsey jerked in startled surprise, the pen skittering over the page at the sound of James’ voice. He held out his hand for the pad. Kelsey let out a deep, shuddering breath, willing her expression to go blank, terrified he’d see the rebellion on her face. Keeping her head down, reluctantly, Kelsey held out the pad.

James took it, his smile shifting to a frown as he read the only two sentences she’d managed to come up with so far. “That’s it? That’s all you wrote in twenty minutes?”

“I—I’m not used to writing with a pen. I think better with my fingers on a keyboard.” That much was true. But James didn’t trust her to get on his laptop. The internet was only a click away and she might blow the bastard’s cover.

He might try to pretend that what they were doing was consensual, but he
had
to know better. Even he couldn’t be that fucking deluded.

James read her words aloud, words he’d basically told her to write as an opening. “I am an obedient wife. My husband has been teaching me that to submit and obey are the hallmarks of a truly content and spiritual woman.”

He handed the pad back to her. “It’s not a bad start, but I know you can do better than that. Write about how good it makes you feel when you’ve pleased me. Write about why being punished makes you a better wife, and what steps you have been taking to make sure you keep your husband happy. Put some stuff in there about the sex, too. I want details about how intense your climaxes are within the framework of pleasing your husband. Tell about how grateful you are for the orgasms, but even more grateful for the opportunity to satisfy and serve your husband.”

Why don’t you write the fucking thing yourself?

Kelsey clapped her hand over her mouth, for half a heartbeat terrified she’d spoken those words aloud. James was watching her, a frown on his face.
Get a grip, get a grip,
Kelsey ordered herself.
Don’t let him know anything’s different. Don’t let him think you’ve changed.

She ordered her face to smooth itself into a bland smile, the expression he liked to call “serene”. “Thank you, sir. Those are good suggestions.” She picked up her pen and bent over the pad. She would use his words and make him happy so she could end this particular farce. What had he said? Something about punishment making her a better wife?

Fucking asshole. How does being brutalized, terrorized and half starved make me a better wife? And I’m not your fucking wife, anyway.

Kelsey realized she’d been writing, her hand moving of its own accord over the paper. She read what she had scrawled: I hate James. I hate James. I hate James.

With a gasp, she grabbed at the page and tore it from the pad, crumpling it into a ball. James looked down at her. “What? What’s the problem?”

“Nothing.” She hid the balled paper behind her back and pushed it beneath her bottom.

“Let me see. I bet it was fine. You need more confidence.” He held out his hand. “Come on. Show me.”

“No!” Oh god, why hadn’t she crossed out those damning words? What was wrong with her? She couldn’t let him see it. No, no, no, no.

James stood, towering over her. “Did you just say no to me?” His voice had taken on that silky, dangerous tone she knew meant trouble.

“Please. It’s—it’s just scribbles. Really. I’m starting over, see?” She held up the blank pad, her heart beating like a drum in her chest, the crumpled paper prickling beneath her still-tender ass.

James reached for her, gripping her forearms and hauling her to her feet. “To quote Shakespeare,” he said with an ugly grin, “methinks the lady doth protest too much.” He pulled her against him and wrapped one strong arm around her torso, while leaning down and grabbing the ball of paper with his other. He let her go and sat down, smoothing the page flat against his computer desk.

Kelsey sprinted away from him, not sure where she was going, but desperate to get there. Though mostly healed, the wound on her leg still slowed her gait, but fear spurred her forward. She ran through the living room to the kitchen and skidded to a stop in front of the silverware drawer. She yanked it open and groped for a sharp knife.

James came thundering into the room behind her. She whirled to face him, the knife clenched in her shaking fist. Blind with fear and fury, she raised the knife and rushed at him, aiming the point at his face.

She wanted to scare him.

She wanted to hurt him.

She wanted to kill him.

As she lunged, James lifted an arm to deflect her attack, while he reached for her with the other. The point of the knife slid along his shoulder, leaving a red line in its wake.

“You cut me!” James roared. “You fucking bitch, you cut me!” His hand closed over her wrist, squeezing and twisting until the agony of his grip forced her to let go.

The knife clattered to the floor.

She saw his fist hurtling toward her in the second before it made contact with her cheekbone, and then the floor slammed into her face.

~*~

James examined the wound in the mirror, his lips pressed into a grim line. The cut was deep and hurt like hell. He daubed gently at it with a damp cloth and applied some antibiotic cream.

It should heal okay without stitches, though it would probably leave a scar. His heart, however, would never heal from what had just happened. He stared down at the wrinkled piece of paper. The spiteful, cruel words hit him anew like a slap in the face each time he read them.

I hate James. I hate James. I hate James.

The hours, days and weeks of his constant, undying attention, of his firm but loving hand, and she had written those words! All her apparent strides in learning to embrace her life as an obedient, submissive and loving wife had been a fucking lie. She was still the same willful cunt she’d been before, just waiting for the chance to stab him in the heart, both literally and figuratively.

James went back into the bedroom. Kelsey was locked in the closet, where she would stay until he could calm himself down enough to deal with her. He felt bad for hitting her in the face like that. He’d been beside himself with pain and rage, but still, he knew his temper needed work. A responsible husband punished his wife, but never with anger.

He sat at the computer and logged onto the new site he’d discovered, a chat site for men who subscribed to the obedient wife lifestyle. Earl, the moderator and owner of the site, was online. James typed a direct message to Earl, a wise man with thirty years of experience in wife obedience training.