Seduced by the Alphas Ch. 06

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Beautiful Monsters.

I twist his steel bracelets nervously about my wrists as I await his return, it will be any time now. Perhaps I should have just deleted it. I could then deny its existence, and I wondered why I had not thought of it before. His word against mine. Would Master's old friend Noctiserus be clever though and save excerpts of the incriminating journal? He seemed the kind. However what if he hadn't? The computer sat innocently on the desk top only feet from me, it was off. I rose and decided I would hurriedly restart it, it would take but a few moments. I could hit the delete button and it would be over, gone.

The rumbling engine of his Corvette, so out of place in this sleepy, working class, inner suburb was by the front window as my finger sought the start button. I had failed in my mission. My stomach in tight knots, I again resumed my place, eyes to the floor and naked by the entrance way. He walked in, limping slightly, that usually meant he had had a heavy day. I wondered in my jumble of guilty thoughts if ever a day would arrive and he would not limp? Anything to keep my tumultuous mind busy and still functioning in his presence this troubled evening.

I served him dinner, his perennial favorite, steak. He liked it rare and bloody, as he liked all his flesh, even mine. He ate very few of the vegetables, mostly the bread soaked in gravy, and the meat. I felt like I was dining with a lion, or at the very best a barbaric savage. He sat before me his hair in his food, grease from the bone he was gnawing on running down his hands.

I picked at mine. I had every reason to have no appetite, but I forged on. I did not wish him to suspect anything was out of place, there was after all a small chance his distant friend would not say anything to him at all. I prayed fervently to every god I could think of this would be the case.

His cell phone made me jump as I cleaned away the dishes, but it was only his Brother making his usual courtesy call. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing untoward, when I heard his voice so far away in Arhus I wanted to cry. I wanted him to rescue me, but Lidia the actress answered, mouthed her polite hellos and assured him we were both well and happy. Master smiled at my upbeat tone. I was getting better, I had fooled him as well.

The hours lethargic in their progress passed, he flicked through the channels on the television impatiently. He did not speak to me at all, I did not look at him. This had become our usual pattern as we lived in his spartanly furnished, stripped down home, in limbo as he waited for his new home in Arhus to be closed on.

Sometimes I still could not help myself and risked yet another merciless caning to glance at him. He was a beast, but he was still handsome to me, as I knew he was to many women. Sometimes he caught me, sometimes he did not, and occasionally he just chose to ignore it. I could never be sure of his motives.

The scars on his face had almost completely healed, just thin silver traces that enhanced his ruggedness rather that detracted from it. It lent him a certain sense of dubious history, an edgy danger that many found irresistible. His new fast car had promoted his popularity as well, and Birgitte had finally accepted his ring.

He wore his engagement to her like a badge of bravery. His medal of honor if you will. He flaunted his success in the face of his brother and every other unbeliever at every turn. I did not see her often which was fortunate. Birgitte found his working class domicile repugnant, and many of his habits, all could see it but he. He was the proud lion and she his lioness. Every time I saw them together I knew it was she who owned him, and I wondered what it would be like in his new home with the two of them present. I suspected most difficult.

The television screen went black, he had turned it off. I had forgotten and looked up at him last evening, it was so easily done. A simple lapse and I was undone, he administered the pain to my flesh with relish. I was not going to give him that opportunity this night. My eyes were locked fast to the floor.

He enjoyed this, it enhanced his sense of surprising me with things I could not see on my periphery. One night recently it had been no more than a simple glass of cold water. He had poured it over me and laughed, forgetting myself I had looked at him only to again be on the receiving and of his blinding pain. It was his newest game. I had so hoped he would tire of it as he did of many things, but it seemed to afford him endless amusement at my expense.

I felt faint as I saw him rise and make for the computer desk, settling his solid, muscled bulk in the black swivel chair. Again as I had many times that day I prayed to whatever God would listen, promising whoever answered, my religious fealty for life. Most mercenary, considering I did not truly believe in the existence of any religion at all.

The windows startup sound, and the monitor flickered into life. He did book work and accounts, often it was his habit to do them late. He had for the past few months taken up the majority of his Father's responsibilities here in Copenhagen, as Master's elder brother, my savior did, in far away Arhus.

Mr Eriksen senior had recently informed both of his sons he was going to ease into retirement, he had experienced some minor health issues, and he was keen to stand down and give control of his company over to his two male heirs.

There had been a bit of tension over this, Master's father had not been too happy to hear his youngest son was indeed moving from Copenhagen. He had wanted him here in the capital to oversee his many projects, but of course Birgitte for reasons of her own had insisted he had buy her a house near the sea, not some ugly port as she had put it. Of course Master obliged her even if it meant paternal displeasure.

I nervously risked looking directly at him, but I felt safe as I was behind the immense spread of his shoulders which were obscuring much of the screen from my view. He was in the accounting program, writing accounts, some of them for very large sums of money. I guess the extravagance of the Corvette was petty cash to him after all, and I thought of the ring he had given Birgitte. He really did not have to live this way. He just had until now merely chosen to.

With an arrogant gesture of his hand he signaled he wanted another coffee, he drank copious quantities of it. I went to the kitchen. I could hear a car driving slowly along the rear lane way, the tap dripped, he never fixed it. I sighed, not only was I sick with worry, I felt gloomy, but that was not unusual, I often did. I had my reasons, some real, some imagined. Summer here would soon be over, and it would be a return to the gray oppressive clouds, and the ever present cold. This country was as cold as the man who had brought me here. I should have seen it, a fool was I.

"Lidia."

I froze, and died a thousand deaths in that one moment. I emerged from the kitchen I could hardly grasp his coffee cup, my fingers felt like nerveless things. He still sat in the dark room, his email open. I set the cup down, its contents spilled carelessly on the desktop burning my hand.

"What's this?"

A letter was opened on his desk top, an email from Nociserus.

"He says Devil died last May."

I had loved that dog. I knew that was not all he had said, this was not about pleasantries. I closed my eyes, all these months my little secret now exposed in a few careless words. From a man who lived thousands of miles distant.

Master was reading it thoroughly, he was silent. He leaned back from the screen, the chair inadvertently rolled back from the desk, and he looked at me, a savage in the half dark. I stood silent and for the first time in many weeks I looked him calmly in the eye and waited my execution.

"What is he speaking of Lidia, show me?"

I knew he spent very little time on the internet, he could afford to act dumb. My skin crawled, I could hardly refuse him, but I so wanted to formulate any kind of lie I could to hide my forbidden online journal from his prying eyes.

"It's nothing really." Was all I could offer lamely. Oh please, I prayed, let him not feel this is of any importance. I could not have my last bastion of inner feelings laid bare to him, no I could not.

"Show me, let me be the judge." His words were not angry ones, but they hit me like a hammer just the same. "I had not considered you using this Lidia."

I could see his oversight had shocked him. He put his arm around me and guided me between his legs, so that I stood in front of him at the keyboard. His long hair tickled my back, his stubbled chin rested on my shoulder. His voice never completely free of menace, quiet next to my ear. "Show me Lidia."

I knew if I refused, retribution would be swift and brutal, worse awaited me than just the cane. I was sure it would be a hospital visit and broken bones, disfigurement, or worse. He would beat me until I showed him anyway, yes I was cornered and beaten. I took a deep breath and typed in the website.

"I didn't know you liked porn." He chuckled behind me in an attempt at lightheartedness that neither of us felt, his arms wrapped possessively about my waist.

Next my password, and up came my profile. He did not move for some moments, when he did he slowly pushed me to one side. I toyed with running at that moment. He did limp after all and could not run as fast he used to. This was possibly my last moment to flee from him before the worst.

He looked at my photographs taken that last summer before I had turned twenty one, by Noctis himself. I had been shy to sit naked in the grassy field, on that glorious summer's day before those two men and the camera.

"You Lidia, are only for my eyes, not the world." He sounded both angry and sad. He read my profile and then began to run his eyes over my copious journal entries. "You are quite the little writer aren't you?" He looked at me and sighed. "I always maintained an education is useless to a woman. This here is proof of that." He gestured at the screen containing my secret words and feelings, the forbidden window into our dark world.

So far so good, I encouraged myself. I had expected a raw explosion of anger, he had been very controlled. I had written so much I had hoped the sheer volume of my recollections would daunt him. He was after all no avid reader. To my horror he began to print out everything on my profile, page after incriminating page of evidence.

Lastly he went to my mailbox, this affected him, pages and pages of people who had written to me assailed his possessive sensibilities. He was angry now. He went into my profile settings and summarily deleted it all, I had as of this moment truly ceased to exist.

He did not strike me, he did not say a word, he simply looked at me long moments in the half dark. I could almost see in him the man he was long ago, the golden lion of my nineteenth year. The ravager of my lost innocence.

He rose and went into the lighted kitchen. I could hear him under the sink in the cleaning cupboard. He returned with a plastic bucket. This confounded me, I looked at him quizzically. He just gave me one of his most lovely smiles, he set his hand on my upper arm and marched me to the basement. How could I have been so blind?

To fight him would only give him the license to hurt. My chance to flee had expired long ago. I had learned not to resist. Like everything in this life it is changeable, and my fortunes one day would not necessarily be the same for the next. It was all I could find comfort in as he led me to the tiny steel barred cell, gouged into the side of the basement wall. I had done it before, I could do it again. It could be worse, he could have thoroughly beaten me bloody, and left me to die. I had been so sure he was going to go into a wild rage if ever he discovered my online tryst. His passive calm had me feeling strangely cheated of the terrible fate I felt due.

I knew he would return to read my mail, digesting the pages of my diary at his leisure while I languished here in the dark awaiting my fate.

He closed the cell door. The sound of the key in the lock had a finality to it. I did not cry, I did not beg. I was guilty as charged. He looked at me, the game had elevated to a new level, there could be no survivors. He turned and simply walked away leaving me in the dark.

I did not sleep, even if I could have had the luxury of laying down in the most comfortable bed imaginable, I would not have. I knew he spent the night up above, drinking strong black coffee and dwelling on my every word.

Sunday, I had stood, crouched, sat on my behind in the dirt legs drawn up, and resumed the same positions all over again, in what seemed an eternal cycle of discomfort. This was indeed the most uncomfortable of prisons built by his own loving hands. My thoughts strayed to Gabrielle his first dark haired beauty, he said she was a drug addict, but was she? I will never know. She spent time here just as I did now, in the light less, airless space, in the damp, and the dirt.

Something moved in the far recesses of the basement. I stared long and hard, it was a rat. My little Cleo had been right, there were things worth hunting here. It scampered across the floor and ran with great agility up the iron sewer pipe and out of sight. Unlike me, though much maligned, it was free and I was envious. Next to me sat the plastic bucket emanating from it the unpleasant odor of urine, it could not get much bleaker than this.

Sunday night, finally Master appeared, he did not even flick on the light. He had the cell phone in his hand he was talking to his Brother, and of course he insisted on hearing my happy voice. He held the phone through the bars that I may talk. His elder Brothers voice more appealing to my senses than ever before. I did not falter. I lied to perfection of course, I caught Master's sick smile at my predicament. His eyes glistened with his sadistic pleasure even in the dark. Surely after this he would release me? However he walked away.

Things are beyond bad. In the spirit of Robinson Crusoe I have begun to gouge lines into the shale stone to mark the passage of days. Five marks I have there, he does not relent. Water and food once a day delivered with his brother's phone call and his insistence on my cheerful disposition. I do not disappoint. He takes the bucket to empty and supplies me with another. I have not washed or showered, my skin and hair is dirty and itches. I am cold, cramped, and sore, I do not know how much more of this I can take. In the morning before work he comes and gags me and chains my wrists to the bars. I stay this way until his return. Why does he just not vent his anger and have it done with?

As always the phone call. I must find my voice and answer well. I keep reminding myself my savior is three hours away, he really cannot help me. Not in a timely fashion anyway. Master is clever enough to remove the gag early so I can indeed find my voice before the nightly interview. It has almost become ritual, a trial for the two of us.

I can see the resentment as he takes the call. They talk business first, it appears they both worry about the economic downturn though they are still out bidding many of their competitors on contracts. It seems Master has taken up the helm here in Denmark. Leaving his brother who has no criminal record, or outstanding warrants, to travel on their business abroad.

I find I can sleep now, it comes to me easier than before. I use it as an escape from this terrible predicament I find myself. He is not going to free me, I languish here all but forgotten. Many days I sit and cry, softly, his discarded slave. The company takes his hours, he is home less than he was before. The house is, but for me, and a few boxes of his possessions, empty. There is nothing to draw him here. He has the added distraction of his fiancee, she is very demanding on his time.

One this sixth day of my incarceration I am cold, so very cold. I think I am getting ill. My skin itches, I am covered in dirt. My mind is haunted this day with the idea I will become no more than an animal, with even less dignity than the rat I so frequently sight down here. He will take my last bastion of reason from me, as he has taken everything else, and I will go mad and be beyond redemption. I huddle in a tight ball on the stone floor, and I feel hungry, he has fed me little. My journal, my sounding board for my reason was not worth this. I should never have posted it. However it is too late now, my path has been chosen.

Thursday night he comes home so very late, at least I think it is, but I am not sure to be honest. To clearly mark the passage of time has for me become one of life's luxuries. I hear the distinctive throaty sound of his car, it can be no one else. The front door opens and slams. I wonder if he misses my presence by it, waiting as I always did. It was something he so used to love. Did he ever love me I wondered, and I could not be honest enough with myself to find the answer?

The floorboards creak above me he is in the kitchen, I hear the fridge door. Please let him bring me some food and a blanket.

His footfalls heavy on the crude wooden steps, they are splintered and ancient, left over from another simpler, harder time. The bare bulb explodes into light, I cannot see, I squint into it. He is coming towards me, he is but a shadow. My eyes adjust, but not nearly as swiftly as they have in the past. I am becoming a creature of the dark. Tears cloud them, not ones of despair, but the reflexive kind.

The key grates in the lock, he reaches in for the bucket. He seems not at all bothered by the stench. I am becoming inured to it as well. He pushes a small plate of stale bread at me, and a container of water. The bread is plain and there is nothing else. I long for fruit, and what I would not give for a simple blanket. He closes the door to my prison and my hopes fall like pebbles cast into a deep pond.

"Stand up." It was all he said.

I obeyed, he was warm. I could feel his body heat even through the bars that separated us. I wanted him to hold me even if it was only for a little while.

"Kneel."

I was stiff, it hurt to, but I did as he requested. I knew already what he wanted. I was wondering how long he could last? I got the feeling Birgitte did not do this for him, at all. Like many things orally pleasuring a man was beneath her. He unzipped his jeans, they were still dusty and dirty from work, but not nearly as filthy as I was. He did not care, he was seeking his own primal release, one only I could give. I took his uncut hardness in my mouth, he is no small man. To begin with I had done poorly at this, but as with all things he had over time taught me to pleasure him well. He held me through the bars, tonight his urgency was unparalleled. I did not need to work very hard before I could taste him in my mouth, and he was done.

He was going to leave, I could not let him go this evening. I needed something, anything.

"Please?" I whispered.

He stopped, his back was turned to me, he blotted out much of the light.

"Don't leave me. I'll do anything. I will." I beseeched him. It was a terrible risk now to speak out of place.

"You already have." He said hurtfully not even turning to even look at me. His tone was brittle and spoke volumes in those three simple words he had chosen. He turned off the light and went upstairs.

In the dark with only the sounds of him above watching the television, and the intermittent whine of the sump pump I sat. I was getting sick, my nose was stuffed up and my throat was sore, and for the first time today I felt at last warm, a fevered warmth. The tears began all over. It was then I realized tonight had been different, there had been no phone call. My sensibilities broke then, and I began to scream.