Take Me With You(23)

“What do I have to do? Just say it. I don't understand why you won't say it.”

He walks over and lays it on the floor behind me. Then he comes back to face me, close, and that's when I see the bulge in his pants. It's menacing and I'm scared and yet the area where he last touched lights up. He leans in close enough for his hardness to graze me.

“I'm gonna taste your pussy,” he whispers in my ear. His voice is gritty and low, the auditory equivalent of gravel.

I shake my head. I won't do this. This isn't who I am. He can strip me down, starve me, isolate me, but I am still Vesper Rivers.

He shrugs, pulling the blanket off the floor. Tossing it in the milk crate, going through the motions for a grand exit. It's so unfair, this is all nothing to him, but this basement is my world. That blanket could be my bed. It could shield my naked body so I can maintain a shred of dignity. It could hug me. A simple hug, even from a blanket would be a lifeline right now.

A sense of panic rises in me as he walks towards the stairs. He's the only person I can talk to or touch. I don't want him to go. I don't want to sit in this endless boredom, staring out the tiny window that is far out of reach. I've run out of things to think about. I've slept away more hours than I can count. I don't know how much longer I can keep going without food. I feel like I'm hanging onto my sanity by a hair. I have to stop him from leaving me in here.

“Wait! Can we bargain? Can I have one more thing?” He stops, but doesn't face me. He's listening.

“Food. I'm so hungry. I can't keep going like this. The blanket and the food. I know you have some. I can smell it.”

He's silent for a few moments. Probably to fuck with me more than trying to mull it over. Then he shakes his head.

“Oh come on!” I shout, hot tears falling down my cheeks. I'm so angry I'm letting myself cry over such mundane items. I've been reduced to an infant, relying on someone for my most basic needs and unable to communicate through anything but tears.

He comes over and stands a foot away from me. Without a word, he looks me up and down, scanning my naked body like it's a meal. I've gotten somewhat used to the nudity, but the way his eyes scour me feels more intrusive than the bathing.

“You'll have to let me lick your cunt for the blanket. But if you want to eat food, you'll have to swallow my cock first.” He reaches down and unzips his pants, pulling out his thick, engorged penis. For some reason I salivate, causing me to gulp. Sustenance, company, sex, it's all becoming intermingled. One associated with the other.

If I had to guess, I've been here for many days, maybe weeks. I've had one high calorie meal, but my hip bones are jutting out. I am weak. I am tired. I've had just enough water to keep myself alive and I wonder if my kidneys might go soon. The blanket is nice. It's a luxury. But food, food is life. And I am going to do anything I can to survive.

I don't have any more energy to bargain or even speak, simply nodding in consensus.

“Can I just have a bite? Just something to start? My head hurts.” His crystal eyes, strong and unwavering, meet my sunken light brown ones. “I'll do a better job for you if I have energy.” In case he doesn't have a human side, I appeal to his carnal one.

He walks over to the milk crate, his hard dick still hanging out, bouncing as he walks, and pulls out something. I stand taller with excitement. It's a bag of potato chips. He opens it and takes out a handful, then folds the bag, placing it back in the crate before walking over.

He bobs his head at me and I open my mouth. He feeds me one chip and my mouth bursts with salty goodness.

“Mmmm,” I moan shamelessly. I think I see his lips curve into a smile that he quickly fixes. Another. Another. I get ten chips. Ten glorious, salty, crunchy chips. Enough to make my mind think it's getting more food and trigger a second wind. The small dose shifts my mood, putting me in an unlikely post-snack high.

But the feeding is only a minute, and now I have to work on the down payment I collected.

He points to the blanket.

I lie down, watching him stand over me, making me feel so small. He finishes undoing his jeans and lets them fall to the floor. He's not wearing underwear, and now he's completely naked. His legs are thick with muscle, though not as tanned as his upper body.

You're still Vesper, I remind myself.

But am I? I've traded sexual favors for a meal and a blanket. That's not who I am. I clench up, thinking about my family and Carter. Carter who I am betraying by agreeing to this. I should have fought more. Now that I have a little bit of energy from the food, I should fight this raw deal.

The man, completely naked, except for the black balaclava, rests his hard body against mine. His cock presses against me, and I wonder if he's going to penetrate me instead of following our agreement.

“I changed my mind,” I say. “I don't need this stuff.”

He ignores my words. “I gave you a choice and you made it. Just like your boyfriend did that night when he told me to fuck you instead of saving you himself.”

Like a cold rush of water, that memory comes back. I didn't believe that it was true. That Carter would tell an intruder to fuck me instead of taking the hits himself. But I don't know anything anymore. I am weak, weaker than I think. Those chips have already disintegrated in my stomach, and the gnawing hunger returns. A cynicism and mistrust I've never had for anyone overtakes me. Maybe Carter betrayed me that night. Maybe I put my body and life on the line for him and he hadn't done the same for me. And if he didn't fight for me, then why should I feel guilt over this?