Uncovering You 2: Submission Page 3

  Halfway there, the smell of freshly-cut strawberries hits my nose. I rush forward, and discover lunch waiting for me.

  There’s a huge bowl of berries, accompanied by a tall glass of water. The succulent smell of the fruits is almost enough to make me weepy again. After being deprived of food for so long, each meal is a blessing.

  I’m in the process of stuffing a handful in my mouth when I notice an envelope tucked under the glass. I put the berries down, feeling an ominous threat growing in the back of my mind. Carefully, I wipe my hands on a cloth and pick the envelope up.

  There are two pieces of paper inside. Both are folded, but I can see through the back. One has handwriting on it. The other has printed text.

  I unfold the handwritten one first.

  I hope you are enjoying your food today. I want to remind you that freedom comes with a price.

  Do not neglect the body shape clause in our contract. Nothing angers me more than sloppiness.

  - J.S.

  PS: Attached you will find my test results from yesterday morning. I hope they ease your lingering concerns.

  PPS: You should know that a pregnancy is unacceptable. I took the liberty of slipping your first birth control pill into your breakfast this morning. The others will be given to you whole. I expect full compliance in this matter.

  I stare at the note in disbelief. The bastard drugged me—again! It’s not so much the drug that bothers me. It’s the act of doing it. What else has he been sneaking into my meals?

  I crumple the note and hurl it against the opposite wall. My appetite for the berries is gone. In fact, in one angry move, I sweep everything off the table—berries, bowl, and all. The plate and glass hit the floor and shatter.

  I leap up off the stool and stomp out of the room. I’m so angry I could scream. I feel like I’m suffocating!

  No amount of rationalization can change the truth. I am a prisoner, and I am entirely at Stonehart’s mercy. He can do with me whatever the hell he wants, and I have absolutely no say in the matter!

  I pace back and forth through the sunroom, my strides sharp and livid. The ocean outside mocks me. The sunlight reflecting off the glass mocks me. I can see all of it, but it might as well be an image on a television screen for all the good it brings me.

  I need to break free. Right now, I need to break free!

  I stride to the closest painting. This one does not hide a door. I steady myself beneath it, hook my fingers under the edge, and heave. It comes off its hooks. It’s heavy and awkward, and I nearly lose my balance as it lifts off.

  But, I catch myself in time. I stagger over with it toward the giant glass wall. Then, with one great heave, I throw the painting against the glass with as much strength as I have.

  I don’t know why I expected the glass to break. Obviously, it’s stronger than that. The painting bounces off and clatters to the floor.

  I grip my hair in my hands and scream in frustration. My voice echoes through the hollow room.

  Of course the glass won’t break. Of course there’s no way out. And even if I did manage to break a panel, what good would it do? I still have the fucking collar around my neck!

  Having nowhere else to go, I stalk up to my pillar, cross my arms, and lean against it, brooding.

  ***

  Eventually, common sense gets the better of me.

  I was acting like a child. Trying to break free? A waste of effort. Stonehart obviously took precautions to ensure that escape is impossible. At least, escape in the expected way.

  My tantrum came from a place of desperation and hopelessness. I promised myself that I would not succumb to those feelings. Doing so is as good as admitting defeat.

  And Lilly Ryder is far from defeated.

  I pick myself up and walk back to the sitting room. There, I squat down and clean the remains of my lunch from the floor. I find the crumpled ball of paper and straighten it against my leg. Stonehart wants his actions to affect me. When I react the way I did, I play right into his hands.

  I will not give him the satisfaction of getting an explosive reaction from me again.

  I place the note back into the envelope. Then, as curiosity gets the better of me, I unfold the second sheet.

  It shows the result of an STD test. All came back negative. But that’s not what interests me most.

  The date is.

  The note said Stonehart took the test yesterday. The date on the sheet reads October 10th, 2013.

  October 10th. That means today is the 11th.

  I fight off the wave of dizziness that tries to take me. I haven’t been here for two weeks.

  I’ve been here for five.

  How had I miscounted so badly? The days all blurred together in the dark. But if today is the eleventh, that means I held out for... for a month and a half.

  I don’t know whether to feel angry or proud. Angry at myself for my stubbornness. Proud of remaining steadfast in my initial purpose.

  In the end, I settle for a mixture of the two. Knowing that it’s been over a month makes so much sense. It makes my stunning weight loss less remarkable. But what kind of blasted ideal of stubbornness, of stupidity, had me fight my war of attrition for five weeks?

  The bit of pride I feel for holding out is probably misplaced, but so be it. I can’t help that.

  There are other pieces of information of interest to me in the paper. The most shocking is Stonehart’s birthday: June 10th, 1970. The man is forty-three, yet he could pass for a thirty-year-old!

  I put that paper back into the envelope. I hate the mocking way he wrote that the test results should “ease my concerns.”

  And yet, a part of me—albeit, a very, very small part—does appreciate the gesture. I guess it might be seen as chivalric, in a twisted, totally sadistic kind of way.

  I sit there, alone with my thoughts, when a realization strikes me.

  Nothing I do matters until Stonehart makes his presence known.

  I need to learn about who he is as a man in order to exploit his weakness. But, I cannot do that without him around.

  The real games begin in six days. Until then, I must do everything in my power to get ready.

  Chapter Five

  One day goes by, followed by the next, and the next again. The food I am given makes my body feel stronger. The sun I soak in fills me with resolve. I have nothing to do, yet the freedom to simply roam with no fear of triggering my collar is enough to keep me from boredom.

  I have no idea what Stonehart will do to me when he returns—well, I have some idea, but it doesn’t mean I enjoy thinking about it. No matter what, I will not wait in apprehension.

  I will be ready for him when he comes back. He will find me perfectly willing and perfectly submissive.

  Of course, that will just be an act that drives me to my true purpose.

  Besides, I know how little good resistance will do. Moreover, I know the expectations that come from the contract. I agreed to play his game. I cannot back down now.

  Five days into my wait, I catch my reflection in the enormous glass wall at night. I can’t help but smile. I’ve already put on weight, and my cheeks are starting to get their regular glow back. Having access to a bathroom, limitless clothing, food, and sunlight definitely helps. Fresh air would be a nice addition, but I’m in no state to complain.

  The night before Stonehart’s expected arrival, I take extra pains to make myself presentable. I soak in the perfumed waters of the tub for hours, making my skin soft and pink. I wash my hair and style it in the most elegant fashion I know. I’ve already picked out what I’m going to wear, and laid it out on the floor for after my bath.

  I apply some blush to my cheeks, eye shadow to my eyelids, and a tiny bit of lip gloss. Nobody who saw me a week ago would ever guess I am the same person today.

  I remember the big deal Stonehart made about precision the night I met him in the restaurant. He told me seven days when he left, and seven days is what he will hold me to.

  I full
y expect him to arrive at midnight.

  The last time I saw him, he left by way of the door. I sit facing it with my back against the marble pillar, and begin my wait.

  ***

  It’s been hours since nightfall. My eyes are drooping shut. My head keeps falling forward. Each time it does, I jerk back up, refusing to give in to sleep.

  The anticipation is killing me. When will Stonehart come? What will he want? How will he react when he sees me?

  Those thoughts threaten to take me down a slippery slope. I shiver and rub my arms, not wanting to let my imagination give way to fear.

  ***

  I wake up with a jolt. The early rays of the sun fill the room.

  Immediately, my eyes focus on the other person present. Stonehart is standing at one of the glass panes, facing away from me. He looks absolutely striking in a crisp beige suit. He’s holding a clear goblet of wine behind his back.

  My mind races and panic sets in. How long has he been there? Oh God, how long has he been waiting?

  Stonehart glances over his shoulder a split-second after I wake. “Oh. Did I startle you? By all means, take your time.”

  I scramble up, straightening my clothes in the process. “Jeremy,” I say, flustered. “You should have woken me.”

  “I couldn’t do that,” he mocks. “You looked so beautiful asleep.”

  I have no idea whether to take the comment as a compliment or jeer.

  “Don’t worry,” he continues, turning toward me. As he walks closer, I notice the fine lines around his eyes. Though the suit looks freshly pressed, the shirt underneath is wrinkled. His tie is loose. I wonder absently if he’s been working all night.

  “I am not angry with you,” Stonehart tells me. “In fact, I have something for you. A gift.” He stops in front of me. “Lilly. Hold out your hand.”

  I remember what he said about the consequences of misbehavior. I don’t know what those are, but I am not keen on finding out. I lift up my right arm and extend it to him.

  He cups my hand gently between both of his. His grip is firm yet tender. A small gasp escapes my mouth at the warmth I feel around my fingers.

  I’ve thought of him as this horrible monster for so long that it’s a shock to realize that warm blood runs through his veins, like mine.

  He smiles at my reaction, then strokes my fingers with his thumb. That small gesture is so endearing that it frightens me. It feels like the caress of a lover, not a captor.

  Stonehart slowly brings my hand to his lips and kisses it. The hairs on my arms stand up. I suppress a shiver.

  Dammit, how can my body react to him this way?

  “I am pleased,” he says softly, his deep, angelic voice lifting my soul, “with the way you have improved your appearance since my last visit. So, I brought you this.”

  One of his hands reaches into his pocket, and he pulls out a small velvet box. I see the word Swarovski emblazoned upon it in fine, silver lettering.

  “For you,” he says.

  “What is it?”

  “Open it, and see.”

  I accept the little box. My fingers tremble as they run over the sides. I open it, and stare.

  Inside is a beautiful diamond ring. It catches the light and scatters it into millions of different rays. I’ve never seen anything like it.

  “Why?” is all I manage.

  “As a token of my appreciation,” Stonehart replies. I reach out hesitatingly with my thumb and stroke the diamond. I don’t quite believe it’s real. “You might think of it as… a token of good behavior. Here. Let me.”

  He takes the box from my hand and picks up the ring. I hold my hand suspended in the air as he slides it over my ring finger. It fits above my knuckle like a dream.

  “Do you like it?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I whisper. “I like it very much.”

  “Good.” Stonehart smiles. “I am pleased.”

  At that moment, I catch a dangerous glimmer in his eye. It makes me take an involuntary step back.

  “Lilly.” Stonehart emphasizes my name as his eyes pierce into me. “Every good deed deserves a reward.”

  My heart starts racing as I realize what he means. I’ve been preparing myself for this, but actually going through with it… it’s a different story. The look on his face tells me exactly what he wants.

  His hands jut out and clasp my shoulders. He presses down, forcing me to my knees. “Consider this,” he says, unzipping his pants, “…a small taste of things to come.”

  His hand twists hard into my hair and he jerks me to him. “Be a good girl, now, and don’t bite.”

  ***

  I splash my face with cold water again and again, trying to erase the memory of what just happened.

  The minute Jeremy’s pants came off, he became… an animal. I could feel him channeling all his suppressed rage into me. He didn’t care if I choked, didn’t care if he pulled my hair so hard it was almost ripped from its roots. All he cared about was getting his pleasure, showering me with his release, and then… turning around and leaving.

  I cringe as I try to wipe a string of semen from my hair. Having it touch my skin fills me with disgust. I toss the soiled paper napkin into the toilet and press the flush lever with my toe.

  Feeling slightly cleaner, but no less used, I drag myself to the powder room to take in my reflection.

  There are a few popped blood vessels in my forehead from when he wrapped his hands around my neck and cut off circulation. I can cover those up with a modest brushing. My eyes are rimmed red from the tears that ran down my face. I check the drawers for some Visine, find it, and put a few drops in each eye. Stonehart said to expect him again today, and of course, that means keeping up appearances.

  I set to it.

  ***

  I prop myself up against the countertop when I’m done. It’s amazing how much a little makeup can transform a person’s appearance.

  I look as radiant as ever.

  I hold my shoulders high and waltz out to select my evening attire. When Stonehart left me, I was a huddling mess on the floor. When he sees me next, he will find no sign of that woman.

  Determination to see justice done keeps my spirit from breaking. Stonehart wants to prove to me that he owns my body. I will let him indulge in that fantasy.

  This is only day one.

  Chapter Six

  I come back to the sunroom to an unexpected surprise. The door leading outside is open.

  For a moment, my brain cannot comprehend what this means. Am I allowed out? Is this another so-called “token of good behavior”?

  Only after grappling with those thoughts do I notice a dining table being set up by the same elderly woman who cared for me that day a week ago. She stops what she’s doing when she notices me, and smiles.

  “You are looking the picture of health this morning, Miss Ryder.”

  I blink, surprised to be addressed by anyone other than Stonehart. I am so used to being forgotten. Old habits die hard, I guess.

  “Oh,” I stammer. “Thank you.” I take a few careful steps toward her. “I’m sorry, but I never caught your name.”

  “It’s Rose.” She smiles again, then turns her attention back to the table.

  “Rose,” I mumble under my breath. It’s amazing to be talking to someone other than Stonehart. “It’s nice to meet you, Rose.”

  She makes a noncommittal but friendly gesture toward me without glancing up.

  I walk a few more steps toward her. “I was wondering, since you left the door open…” I eye the tray of dishware standing outside, “…if that means that…” I trail off, not sure how much to say.

  “Oh!’ She stands straight and puts her hands on her hips. “Actually, Mr. Stonehart did ask me to pass a message onto you. He said, ‘Nothing has changed.’ Now,” she laughs, “I won’t presume to know what that means, and it’s certainly not my intention to pry, but I suspect you have some sort of agreement with him? Maybe this has something to do with that.”


  She winks at me, cheerful as a honeybee. “He also told me to make sure to always keep that door closed, but it was so stuffy in here when I came, I thought a little fresh air might do you good.” She smiles. “Don’t you agree?”

  “Oh, yes,” I whisper, astounded. Fresh air? Is it possible that I have found an ally in this woman?

  I can hardly believe she is the person who regarded me with such disinterest a week ago.

  “Do you mind?” I ask, gesturing to the door.

  “By all means,” she says. “Be my guest.”

  I walk up to the door and put my hands on the frame. A draft lifts my hair around my face. I inhale deeply, loving the scent of the ocean. I haven’t tasted fresh air in God knows how long.

  It feels like an enormous breach of protocol to be doing this. But I am not breaking any rules, am I? And knowing that I am feeling the wind on my face—something Stonehart had no intention of allowing me to do—is an encouraging boost to my psyche.

  Stonehart does not control as much as he thinks.

  I wonder how far I’m willing to push this time. I look down at my feet, then edge them forward a few inches. My toes hang over the threshold.

  I know the collar tracks my position. As long as my head stays inside, I shouldn’t be in any danger.

  I take a deep breath and close my eyes, then stick one foot out the door.

  A great thrill shoots through me when my foot touches the cement walkway outside. I shiver and pull back quickly. One taste of rebellion is enough.

  I walk up to Rose. I see her hide a small smile as she keeps her eyes pointed downward.

  “Are you setting up for me and Mr. St—Jeremy?” I ask.

  “Yes,” she answers.

  “He didn’t tell me he was coming for dinner.”

  “At six o’clock,” Rose confirms.

  “Hmm.” I have hours left yet. With nothing else to do, I ask, “May I help you?”

  Rose looks at me. A kind, motherly smile graces her lips. “I’d like that very much.

  Chapter Seven

  Some hours later, I’m sitting alone at the table, looking over the beautiful water, when I catch Stonehart approaching from the corner of my eye. I stand as he enters the room, and only sit back down when he takes his chair across from me.