Uncovering You 2: Submission (2 page)

Bile rises in my throat on hearing those god damn words spoken aloud.
No physical barrier
.

He takes one calculated step toward me. “There,” he says. “I do not often compromise. But for you, I will. You say I’m too far. So I bridge the gap.” His cruel eyes shine. “Now it’s your turn.”

I can hardly believe what I’m doing when I take my first step toward him. My body shakes with apprehension. A cold sweat slicks my back. Stonehart is standing outside the perimeter. Reaching him would mean willingly subjecting myself to a second, horrible, electric shock.

But if I ever want to get back at him for everything that he has—and will—do to me, I have to submit to his games.

My senses are heightened in anticipation of the first tell-tale sign that I’ve gone too far as I walk forward. I stop on the edge of the boundary.

I am still fifteen feet away from Stonehart.

“To me, Lilly,” he says softly, mockingly. “I want you by my side.”

I grit my teeth and force myself to meet his evil stare. “I cannot.”

“No?” His eyes glimmer. “Tell me why.”

“
YOU KNOW WHY, YOU BASTARD
!” I scream.

My hands fly to my mouth when I realize what I’ve done. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I—”

I am cut off by a sudden, booming laugh.

“So, you have some spark left in you, after all,” he laughs. “Excellent. I knew your façade of weakness was just that. You, my dear, are not broken yet. Are you?”

Five quick strides and he’s on me. His hand juts out and grips my jaw, squeezing hard. My lips pucker together. He jerks my head up so my eyes meet his.

“But you will be,” he promises, his voice soft and full of danger. “You will be tamed and trained to my liking.”

He spins off and lets me go. The momentum drops me to my knees. I cry out when they strike the unforgiving floor.

Stonehart is back in his previous position, both hands clasped behind his back. His face is impassive, giving no hint of what has just occurred.

What kind of man can control his emotions so well?

“Now, Lilly,” he commands. “To my side.”

I stand up on unsteady legs. I glare at Stonehart with all the hate I can summon. He watches me, eyes shining, the corner of his mouth curled up in the barest hint of a smile.

I take one shaky step forward and flinch, waiting for the first warning shock.

I crack an eye open when it doesn’t come. Stonehart tilts his head in acknowledgment. “Closer.”

I close my eyes and try not to think about the black piece of plastic that’s tight around my neck. Then, in a bout of either stupidity, lunacy, or desperation, I burst forward in a rush, feet slapping along the floor.

A solid grip on my arm stops me mid-run. I open my eyes and see Stonehart smiling down at me. “That will be far enough. You wouldn’t want to suffer another accident.”

I look around, wide-eyed. “You extended the range,” I breathe. I force down the gratitude that seems to spring from nowhere.

“I told you that your signature granted you privileges,” Stonehart notes. “I am disappointed by your lack of faith in my word.”

“I thought—”

“Remember, Lilly,” he cuts me off, “that freedoms granted can just as easily be taken away.”

He withdraws his phone, taps the screen a few times, and the purple UV light comes on. The thin red circle becomes visible, less than three inches away. I stare at it in horror, knowing how close I came to overstepping it.

“This is your boundary line,” Stonehart observes. “Let me demonstrate the meaning of my words.”

He taps a button on his phone. Immediately, the circle starts to shrink. I stare in bewilderment, too dumb to move.

“
Run
,” he whispers.

I spin back and sprint to my column. The laser circle nips at my heels. My heart is thundering and I’m gasping for air when my hands find the cool white stone. Stonehart’s laughter echoes through the room.

I turn back, and am horrified to find the circle constricting past its initial boundary. Now it’s only ten feet away. Five.
Three
.

It stops a bare inch away from my toes. I press myself against the marble as tight as I can. I don’t dare move. I don’t dare trigger the collar.

Stonehart’s laughter continues. “You see?” he booms. “I am
always
in control. Do not forget that, Lilly.”

As quickly as it had surrounded me, the red circle skitters away. I don’t even see it on the ground anymore. The UV light turns off, and the bright ones come on.

I slump to the floor. My new clothes are ruined, drenched with sweat. I hang my head between my legs as I struggle through the constant, piercing pain that comes when my surroundings go from dark to light.

I hear Stonehart’s footsteps on the floor as he walks a circle around me. “Now,” he begins, “we have to go over the ground rules governing your behavior.”

I manage to open my eyes long enough to see the triumphant expression on his face, just before he disappears from my field of vision. I refuse to turn my head to follow him.

One day, I will make him pay for this
, I promise myself.

“Rule One.” Stonehart’s voice is sharp and clipped. “If you resist, or don’t comply with a clause set out in the contract, you will suffer the
consequence of misbehavior
.” His intonation makes the labeling sound extremely ominous.

“Rule Two. You are explicitly prohibited from any form of self-harm. I will not have you—” he sneers at me, “—
spoiling
yourself.”

“Three. You are not allowed to question my desires. Questions pertaining to your situation are prohibited.” He kneels in front of me and I catch a whiff of his cologne. To think that it once functioned as an aphrodisiac is insane. “Do you understand,
Lilly
?”

I bite my tongue and nod, avoiding his eyes.

Stonehart stands up. “Good. You will not find me unreasonable, so long as you behave. Any requests you have will be given due consideration. But—” He pauses. “Do not test me.”

I whimper and nod, even though it burns my pride to do so. He wants to see me broken, so I will
act
broken. It’s the only chance I have of gaining any sort of advantage.

He
has
to underestimate me. But that will take time.

“Rule Four,” Stonehart continues, pacing the room with his hands behind his back. “I am a busy man. I will not always have time for you. However, you have no responsibilities other than pleasing me. I expect you to
always
be ready for me.”

He stops and looks into my eyes. “Do you understand? The time I make for you is a privilege. Treat it as such. Dress and act accordingly.”

“I understand,” I answer.
Dress
accordingly? It’s not like I own a wardrobe!

“Good. I will leave you those rules. Think on them. Your cooperation will result in increasingly greater freedoms. We will discuss their progression next time we meet.” He walks over to the fully-curtained wall, and runs one hand up and down the rich fabric. “For now, it should be enough for you to know that the range of your collar has been extended to encompass all the rooms connected to this one. You can go through any unlocked doors you find.”

“Doors?” I ask, slowly picking myself up. “What doors?”

Stonehart gestures behind him without glancing at me. “Some of the paintings you see hide entrances to this room. You will find a bathroom. A powder room. A closet. Feel free to make full use of the facilities at your disposal.” He chuckles. “They are not there for me.”

My heart lifts at the idea of a bathroom. A
proper
bathroom. There might even be a shower!

That means no more chamber pots. No more sponge baths—not that I have experienced more than one. Still, I was dreading the thought of the old woman coming back and cleaning me again. It was humiliating.

“I employ a full-time chef on my estate,” Stonehart continues. “He is available to you. Through one door, you will find a small sitting room. There is a desk and paper. You may write down dietary requests and slip them under the locked door. Your meals will be rationed to prevent excessive weight gain, as is always a risk after a period of starvation. That does not mean your selection of food will be limited. You can have anything you want.” He turns to me and smiles. “You see? I am not incapable of compassion.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stone—”

“Jeremy,” he corrects. “You will call me Jeremy.”

I force a smile and give a slight curtsy. It’s as close to being mocking as I dare. “Thank you,
Jeremy
.”

“You’re welcome,
Lilly
.” Stonehart’s dark eyes glisten when he says my name. “Tell me. Have you ever wondered what’s behind this long curtain?”

“Every day,” I answer.

A smile forms on his lips. “I will show you.”

Stonehart takes a step back and retrieves his phone. He plays with the screen for half a second, Then, I hear a mechanical whirr.

My hands dart to my neck out of instinct.

Stonehart notices, and shakes his head. “No, Lilly. Not that.
This
.”

Suddenly, the great curtain begins to lift. It rises all along the massive expanse of the wall. Behind it is a thick, rubber-coated blackout drape, like an enormous projection screen. That one stays still until the curtain reaches the ceiling.

Then, it starts to follow. It lifts slowly. As soon as I see sunshine falling on the floor, I have an irrational urge to cry.

Behind the drape is a massive wall of glass. As the blackout drape lifts, sunlight floods the room. When the warmth reaches my skin, tears form in the corners of my eyes. I rub at them, angry and grateful at the same time.

The drape reaches the very top, and the floor-to-ceiling windows shimmer in the light. Beyond them is a stunning view of a magnificent vista, ending in a cliff ledge that gives way to the ocean.

Stonehart brings his wrist to a small sensor beside the single door in the glass wall. Just like in the elevator so long ago, I hear a
beep
, and the door unlocks. Stonehart opens it to leave, then stops halfway across the threshold and looks back at me.

“Lilly,” he says, his voice stern and serious. “I will give you one week to return to the condition you were in when you entered my home. Eat, sleep, and rest. You have no obligation to me for the next seven days. Right now, you are skinny, wretched, and unattractive. When I see you next, I expect to be greeted by the vibrant, young woman you once were.”

With that, he walks out into the light.

Chapter Two

I wait a long time before gathering my courage and testing my new boundary. I expect to feel the warning shock with every step I take past my former perimeter.

With that type of caution, it takes a good five minutes to creep to the glass wall.

My fingers tremble as I lay them against the cool glass. The sun is so bright. So warm.

I breathe onto the glass to fog it, then wipe the condensation with the side of my hand, just to make sure it’s real.

Everything feels so surreal right now. I look past the glass and try to wrap my mind around all that’s been hidden from me these last few tortuous weeks. My room—this room—sits on a massive estate built into the side of a cliff. The view is magnificent. Beautiful, red rock extends a hundred yards from where I stand, and then gives way to a jagged ledge that forms a sheer drop into the ocean.

The ocean. The
Pacific
Ocean, beautiful and unmarred. If I take a deep breath, I can almost smell the tangy, salty, sea mist—even through the glass. The water is still today. The red rays reflecting off it make it seem like a pool of rubies.

I turn around. The sunlight filling the room makes it seem so much more hospitable. It’s almost enough to make it seem more like a palace than a dungeon.

A palace with no way out
, I remind myself.

Admittedly, I feel a little thrill getting to explore. Stonehart said the paintings cover doors. I want to see that for myself.

I walk around the outside of the massive room, completing one full circle while trailing a hand along the walls. After spending so many hours confined to the pillar, I have no desire to return to that dreadful spot.

I walk up to each of the paintings, examining them, one by one. I see the hinges on some of them, along with an opposing latch. I mark those in my mind but do not open them.

Not yet. I want to enjoy every second of sunlight that I can.

I stop in front of the glass door that Stonehart used to leave. He said I could go through any unlocked door, did he not? And I won’t know what type
this
one is until I try.

I’m not expecting miracles here.

My hand clasps the handle. I push down. It doesn’t budge.