Ray Ch. 04: Breathe

"Hey!" Mistress Dion yelled from Bed Two, finishing the final knot in the ropes keeping Nathan secured to the mattress. She began pushing her way towards them through the crowd as the next domme in line seated herself over Nathan's mouth.

"Don't you dare stop," Mistress Mia gasped, reaching down between her legs to tease herself.

"Mistress Mia!" Mistress Dion's voice screamed over the heads of the dommes refusing to let her through.

She didn't falter. Her hand continued its caress, her body tensing before its climactic release. He bit into his lower lip, his own body crying out when she began tightening rhythmically around him. Her need flooded over him, soaking him as he savored the last strokes he would be allowed.

"Enough," her voice came, her head turning slightly towards him. She jerked away, breaking his hold, then held her arms up high over her head. "He's all warmed up for you, ladies," she announced, then bowed as the sound of the applause rose through the air.

*****

Her hand pressed against the wall of the hallway as she crept closer to the front door, her gut tightening with every step. The closer she got the thicker the air became, choking her by the time she reached her entryway. The high pitched chime of the doorbell lingered in the air, piercing her eardrums.

She held her body as far away as she could manage while she leaned forward to bring her eye parallel with the peephole.

"Temptress," he mouthed from the other side of the door, his breath fogging the circle of glass she was trying to see through.

She jumped back as if he could reach through the wood and pull her through it. The sound of the doorbell ripped through her, mocking her as much as his smile. She tore back down her hallway to her bedroom, her stockinged feet slipping over her smooth floor with every step.

*****

The throb between his legs fought for a victory it would never be granted. The cool air attacked his slick length, refusing to allow it to soften. Hands grasped at his body as he made his way to his post. The preview they had been given made them seem even hungrier.

He climbed onto the mattress, taking a final breath before the predators descended upon him. Their bodies closed in, surrounding him, blurring around him into nothing but pieces and curves. The only control required was his, and he had to hold on as long as he could. Red lips and pink tongues circled his manhood, flashes of teeth teasing a false promise. They weren't there for his pleasure. They were there to cripple him, to humiliate him, to make him throw his hand in the air in silent surrender.

Heat surrounded him, moist and welcoming, enveloping his desperate length. He thrust into it, uncaring which set of eyes it belonged to. Harder. Faster. Rougher. The commands being yelled into the air twisted together as the bodies pressed harder against his. Soft breasts with hardened tips grazed over his back and arms. Lips and fingers caressed his torso. Hands trailed through his short hair.

His hand followed the curve of a hip then the bumps of a spine. The body was torn out of his grasp, another shoving its way into place before him. Long legs kicked towards the ceiling, inviting him into the warmth between them. He pushed himself beneath the thin line of hair left behind to guide his way. The folds immediately tightened around him, gripping him as he pushed in farther.

His hips pounded down, an instinct impossible to suppress. Teeth bit at his ear, nails clawed at his back, hot breath blew cool against the sweat lingering on his skin. Hands began pushing, pulling him down onto the mattress. Then there was weight, the weight of too many bodies too desperate to acknowledge there was a slave attached to the object of their desire. His ragged breath became heavier, inhaling the scent surrounding him, sucking it deep into his memory so he could carry it with him even after it was washed away.

His head lifted towards the ceiling, staring up into the pieces of light, trying not to get lost in the feel of naked skin. They slid down him, ground into him, disappeared then reappeared, slick, hot, unending and uncaring.

He closed his eyes, surrendering to their hunger, helpless as they devoured him. In the brief darkness he found peace beneath the flashes of red behind his eyelids. His legs began to tingle, his hands reaching forward to grasp at any body he could pretend was hers. And there she was, as she always was, waiting for him to come to her as he always did. Her hazel eyes locked with his, her body grinding down against him, tightening around him. But then his eyes opened, leaving him lost in a mass of bodies.

*****

She sat in the silence, her ears straining to pick up any sound that shouldn't be there. Without the sound of the doorbell or fists pounding against the wood, she had lost her way to track where he was.

She grabbed her phone off the nightstand, her shaking hands misdialing the three digit number several times before managing to get it right.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?" the voice sounded on the other end.

The boom of fists pounding against her bedroom window made her jump. Her entire body shook as she ran into her bathroom, shutting the door behind her and locking it. "He's trying to break into my house!"

"What's your location, Ma'am?"

Her voice broke as she forced out her address, her body jumping with each thud that tore through her walls.

*****

His weak legs barely got him to his car. He sighed in relief when he finally sat down, removing the weight of his body from them. In his exhaustion he barely noticed the dull throb he'd been left with, a parting gift from those he had served. His length had accepted its defeat almost an hour ago, deflating into a useless state when its service was no longer required. After he had washed away the scent of sweat and lust, his cage had been put back in its rightful place.

He grabbed his phone out of the cupholder, not surprised when his only missed call wasn't from her. He contemplated calling her to ask why she hadn't come. The answer was probably the obvious one, but he was still in denial. He wanted his mistress back, but she was sinking farther and farther into the quicksand.

"Hey, Ray," Jake's recorded voice began coming through his speakers. "I thought you'd want to know I responded to a call at thirty-two seventy-two Jagger Street—"

His heart stopped at the sound of her address, his finger immediately hitting the "call back" button before the message had finished playing.

"Where have you been?" Jake drilled from the other end of the line. "I called you over three hours ago."

He ignored the question, reminding himself to breathe before he started yelling into the phone. "What happened?"

"Crazy boy showed up over there, pounded on the door and window a bit, then disappeared. Was gone by the time I got there."

He started his car, his knuckles white as they spun the steering wheel to head towards the slave gate. "He didn't try and get in the house?"

"He didn't break any windows or doors."

He turned onto the main road and stepped on the gas, hurrying to where he should have been. "How's Natalie?"

"She seemed shaken up but physically she's fine."

He hung up and ignored the speed limit for the next thirty miles. Rage, blind and consuming, built inside him as he weaved his way through the city streets. His fingernails dug into the steering wheel. He wanted to feel the rapist's bones breaking beneath his fists, and hear his skin tearing away from his muscles.

Twenty minutes later his hand knocked gently on the teal wood, not wanting to cause her any further stress. When a minute passed and only silence sounded from the other side of the door he knocked again. Silence. His finger pressed against her doorbell, his heartbeat pounding through him. Nothing but empty air answered his request.

He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and dialed her number. Her impersonal voicemail message immediately began being recited to him. He scrolled through his contacts until he found Jake's number then began preparing himself to kick in her door.

"Did she leave?" he asked when Jake answered, trying to keep his voice from sounding as frantic as his heart.

"Yeah. A limo was there when we got there. She said she was going to stay in a hotel for the night," Jake replied, pausing for a moment. "I'm not sure how I feel about a woman who calls a limo to drive her to a hotel."

"I'm sure she doesn't care how you feel about it." He pressed his forearm into the door and leaned his head into it, his patience already drained away with his energy. "You don't know what hotel she went to?"

"The Avalon Plaza Inn."

He hung up for the second time and stormed back down her walkway to his car. How many times had he promised her he could be everything she needed him to be? And now he was failing her.

His phone read one sixteen a.m. by the time he pulled into the hotel parking lot. He made his way through the empty lobby and up to the front desk. The young man seated on the other side had his face buried in his phone, his fingers mindlessly picking at the imperfect skin on his face. He rolled his eyes before standing up. His fingers adjusted the name tag pinned to his striped shirt that read, "Troy Foreman, Front Desk Supervisor."

"Can I help you?" Troy the Front Desk Supervisor asked, his eyes staring at the television on the far wall.

He took a step to the side, blocking the screen. "Can I have the room number for Natalie Morris, please?"

"I can't give out any room numbers without permission from the guest." Troy held up his palms in defeat then shrugged and smiled.

He clasped his hands in front of him to keep them from reaching over the counter and dragging the worthless supervisor over it. "Can you call her and ask for permission?"

Troy sighed and turned away, shuffling over to a phone on the far side of the counter. He punched in a few numbers then began touching his palm to the hair spiking up from his forehead. "Hi, Miss Morris? This is Troy from the front desk. There's a man here who's asking for your room number—"

His jaw clenched, imagining the panic Troy's statement would cause. "Tell her it's Officer Ray," he said loudly, hoping she would hear him.

Troy raised an eyebrow then brought the receiver back to his mouth. "He said to tell you it's Officer Ray... Yes Ma'am...Okay." He hung up and walked back to the computer. "I.D.," he said, holding his hand out over the counter.

He dug his wallet out of his pocket and pulled out his driver's license.

Troy typed some information into the computer then handed him back his license and a white plastic card. "Room 1501. Fifth floor. Elevator is around the corner," he said, gesturing to the left.

He shoved his wallet back into his pocket then hurried to the elevator. He couldn't help but feel he had been somewhere he shouldn't have been doing something he shouldn't have done. His stomach turned as the doors closed. He reminded himself he belonged to the community, a decision which was her fault.

When the doors slid open again he made his way down the long corridor until he reached the room with 1501 written in black on the door. He knocked lightly then held the plastic card up to the scanner, pushing the door open when the green light blinked.

The eyes he had searched for all night looked to him from the bed. They appeared more brown than green, and they seemed farther away than where she lay. He sank to his knees and crawled to the edge of the bed.

"I'm sorry I missed your performance tonight, Officer Ray." Her voice was a faded whisper, her fingertips gently touching the hair at his chin.

He caught her hand in his, pressing his lips to her palm. "Please, don't ever apologize to me, Mistress."

********************

He pulled down the tailgate to Garrett's truck then climbed into the bed. His hands grasped at the heavy steel box, shoving it off the edge. Garrett grabbed the end of it, helping it slide smoothly onto the dolly.

"Thanks for the help," he said as Garrett went to get back into his truck.

"Anytime," Garrett replied, starting the engine.

The truck pulled away from the curb as he began wheeling the dolly up to the teal door. He knocked lightly, then took a step back when he heard it unlocking.

She held out the stack of papers in her hand, then paused. "What's that?" she asked, her eyes moving to the large rectangular box.

He smiled at the scrunch in her face. "You said you had something for me," he replied, gesturing towards the papers in her hand. Then he pushed passed her, wheeling the metal monstrosity through her doorway. "I thought we were exchanging gifts."

"What is it?" she asked again, following him down the hallway towards her bedroom.

He walked to her closet and pulled open the door, then continued pushing the dolly inside. His hand fumbled along the wall for the light switch, his mistake obvious the minute the dark closet was illuminated. His eyes ran over the piles of shoe boxes and rows of clothing. "You're going to need to make room."

"There's no room to be made," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "If there was, I'd of filled it with more clothes by now."

He reached down and began pulling shoe boxes into the middle of the walk in closet. When he'd made a big enough hole, he wheeled the dolly into it and unloaded its cargo.

"I don't have that much money," she said, staring at the steel gray safe, "and I don't have bars of gold or bags of diamonds, either."

He began spinning the lock, stopping at each number he had memorized. "This safe isn't for money or jewels." He turned the spoked handle and the door swung open.

Her eyes widened when they fell on the Remington shotgun in his hands. "No," she said, her head beginning to shake wildly back and forth. "I can't... No..."

He got to his knees and gently laid the shotgun on the floor beside him. "Mistress, please," he started, grabbing her hands in his. "He knows where you live. He knows where you sleep. He's not afraid of you—"

"I lock my doors. He can't get in—"

"He will find a way." He squeezed her hands harder, wishing he didn't have to let go. He wanted to protect her, but he couldn't always be there, even if he should be. "He's not afraid of you, Mistress. And he's going to keep coming for you."

Her eyes were staring at the weapon as if it were meant to be pointed at her. "I've never shot a gun before. What if I miss?"

"You're going to be shooting from close proximity. You don't have to have very good aim. Any part of him you hit with this he won't be getting back." He picked the gun up from the floor and held it up to his shoulder. His right hand steadied the stock while his left jerked the fore-end back then shoved it forward. The sound filled the quiet closet. "Keep it in the safe during the day when you aren't here just in case he breaks in. But at night, keep it underneath the bed on the side you sleep on so you can easily grab it."

When he looked up the color had drained from her face. Her hand touched at the wounds on her neck, her head still softly moving side to side.

He set the gun back on the ground then stood up. His hands moved to her head, resting on her cheeks as he held her pale face between them. "I need you to promise me something."

Her hands moved to his, holding them in place against her skin. "What?"

"Promise me if he comes into your room, you'll shoot him."

Her fingers dug into the backs of his hands, her head wanting to shake back and forth beneath his grip.

"Promise me." He leaned down towards her and pressed his lips to hers. She hadn't given him permission, but he didn't care. "Promise me you'll shoot him. Don't let him take the gun from you," he said, resting his forehead against hers. "The minute he realizes you're too afraid to shoot, he'll overpower you and take it from you."

She wrapped her arms around his back and pulled his body into her own. "I promise."

********************

He flicked the switch, bringing the lights on the roof of the car to life. The green Toyota in front of him sped up, the silhouette of the driver's head repeatedly glancing back into the rearview mirror.

"It's stolen," Garrett said, his hand wrapping around the grab handle above his window as they whipped around a turn.

His foot pressed down harder on the gas pedal, following the old car as it attempted to make its escape. It continued weaving down side streets, bringing them deeper into the side of town they were least welcome in.

Brake lights flashed dull red under the midday sun, and the sound of squealing tires cut through the wail of the siren. He jerked the steering wheel to the right, swerving quickly to avoid slamming into the back of the now stopped Camry.

"Go! Go! Go!" Garrett screamed, shoving his door open.

He shoved the gear shift into park, his eyes never leaving the two men now fleeing down the road. He took off after the leaner of the two, knowing full well his partner would choose the easier target.

"Get on the ground!" he yelled out at the shirtless man. His boots pounded down on the pavement, his adrenaline propelling him forward as he closed the distance between them.

The man stumbled on the broken sidewalk, catching himself before tumbling to his knees.

"Get on the ground!" he shouted again. His vision narrowed, his peripheral vision blurring as the focus on his target became sharper.

The man ducked through a broken fence, his white sneakers sinking into the mud of an alleyway. "Fuck!"

He slowed to maneuver himself through the hole then sped up again. He dodged left past an old white car, parked inconveniently in the middle of the narrow space, then continued on his pursuit.

Another fence blocked the exit to the alley, this one lacking holes to escape through. He slowed as he watched the man's unsuccessful attempts to hop to the opposite side. "Are you done?" he asked, using the opportunity to catch his breath.

The man continued to feebly climb the hole-less barrier. "Fuck you."

"Let me know when you're done," he replied. He pulled the radio strapped to his chest towards his mouth. "I got him."

The man made one final attempt before bending over at the waist and putting his hands on his knees. His chest heaved as he shook his head in defeat.

"If you're done turn around and put your hands behind your back."

The man stuck his tongue nervously through the gaps between the few teeth he had left. His skin sagged down over his skull, the results of his lifestyle catching up with him faster than his age.

He tensed, preparing himself for the man to attempt to run by him. "If you're done turn around and put your hands behind your back."

The man straightened himself and turned away, his hands clasping together behind him.

"Do you have any weapons on you?" he asked, snapping the handcuffs in place.

"No."

"What's your name?"

"Dave."

"Why'd you run, Dave?" he asked, leading him back the way they had come.

Dave shrugged then shook his head.

"Are there drugs in—" He lost the rest of the thought when he noticed the damage to the front of the white car they had run past. He held his breath as he made his way to the right side. Flakes of red clashed with the white paint throughout the dented areas.

"I found the car..." he radioed back to Garrett, though he knew they were far too late. The tires had already been stolen along with a few other bits and pieces, including the license plates. He was certain the rapist hadn't been near it since dumping it there.

********************

Her eyes opened, staring into nothing but darkness. The dream had been peaceful. She had followed her mind through the maze, the winding walls of a place she doubted existed anywhere else but inside her head. There had been many faces there with her, all familiar but none she recognized. Sand had pressed into the bottoms of her feet, warm as if from a summer sun, soft as if it was spread over a beach somewhere, though she hadn't heard any water.