Taken Back Pt. 05

Previously titled Lyndsay's revenge. It wasnt an accurate title for the story being told, so I changed it.

*

"I never wanted to be this kind of husband, Skye. I wanted to be a kind and loving husband, someone you could love instead of fear..." Clyde announced as he took another swig from the Jack Daniels bottle. Lyndsay didn't respond, instead she continued her task of scrubbing the blood off the kitchen floor. It didn't seem to matter how many times she changed the water in her soapy bucket, within a few minutes of scrubbing it was pink again. Bleach burned her nostrils but she ignored the irritation and continued the clockwise circles while Clyde leaned back against the kitchen counter and watched her. She had forgotten her place, for just a moment and she had questioned him. It resulted in him breaking her nose which is why she was currently scrubbing the floor.

"Georgie always said I was too soft, and he was right. I should have killed you when you stabbed me. I still can't feel anything in my pinky and ring finger on this hand," he announced, holding his left hand out for her to see. There was a large pink scar on the palm of his hand that matched the one on the top. That had been when she stabbed him with the butter knife at the breakfast table. He had made her eat with her hands for weeks before he had trusted her around cutlery again. That was also the same day that he whipped and raped her. And that was only after he had forced his brother to whip her first. She did regret that she had done it in front of the children, especially the younger ones, but not that she had did it. He took another gulp of whiskey, as he studied the scar.

"I was weak...and because of my weakness for you, more members of my family keep dying. I have to wonder, who is next? Because now it's just you and me Darlin."

"I never intended for anyone to die," she replied softly. And it was the truth, there was no way she could have known that his mother was allergic to the sedative, or that Emily would finally snap or even that Georgie would be so hard to take down.

There are so many different ways she had imagined that night could have gone, but that was never one of them. She spent months in therapy as she struggled between feeling justified and horrified at her actions. Nightmares only went away after they had prescribed heavy sleep meds. And it was all because of the man across from her that it had all happened, every awful thing she had ever experienced in life had been at his hands or in the hands of his family. Bide your time, you can survive this. Samson needs you to survive.

"Doesn't bring them back though, does it?"

"Unfortunately, it does not," she confessed. She kept her head bowed, hand frozen on the scrub brush. Her nails were broken and bloody from all the recent labor. Her shoulders ached as she started back up.

"I have learned it is my love for you that makes me weak. Just as your love for Samson makes you weak." Lyndsay knew her love is what kept her there. She had to have faith that he would return someday, and she needed to survive until then. She could never condemn him to this life.

"I will try harder in the future to be less of a burden, " she apologized. He gave her half a smile and approached, she leaned her head against his outstretched hand.

"And someday I hope to believe you. Only time will tell though." To hear him speak of love, his sick twisted version of love, was almost unbearable. Lyndsay closed her eyes and bowed her head in submission.

"The Lord only gives us what we can handle, and while you're quite more than a handful, I feel more up to the task than I was in the beginning. I owe a lot of that to you."

"Me?" He took another drink and walked behind her.

"I was in a lot of pain when you hit me with the truck and left me for dead. Not just because of the several broken bones. I had never been in love before you Skye, my heart broke when I watched those taillights fade into the distance. I laid there praying for the good Lord to bring me home."

"When I finally began to realize that it wasn't going to happen, I knew that I would do whatever it took to bring you home. To show you that you are meant to be mine!" He was drunk, she could hear it. She could smell it too. Jack Daniels had always been his favorite, and when he drank he tended to become more emotional.

"And I am blessed to have you in my life," Lyndsay replied softly. Part of her wondered if he would ever kill her. He often came close, and each time she wondered just how many more chances she would get. Perhaps he DID love her, in his own demented way of course.

"Thinking of how sweet it would feel to have you beneath me again, to have you finally obedient. It drove me to get well, and get stronger. You will never leave me again, will you darlin?." Chills ran down her back as she felt him approach, his presence like an eclipse on a sunny day.

"This is where I belong,". His boots echoed as he walked around, drinking more from his bottle of Jack.

"You broke 3 of my ribs, my left tibia and fractured my hip, which because of your disobedience, never quite healed properly, as I am sure you've noticed my slight limp. The pain is manageable until it starts to get cold out. This helps keep the edge off," he lifted the bottle and sloshed the liquor around for emphasis. Lyndsay struggled to remain impassive as he accused and blamed her, all the while wishing she could scream at him, what about the abuse she suffered? The terrible nightmares she had for years after she left. Or anytime she saw someone that even resembled him she had panic attacks. She was covered in scars that would never fade away completely, the thought of doing anything domestic made her want to scream. He had taken so much, ruined her mind, body and soul and yet he stood there yelling at her? Did he even fathom the amount of damage he was doing? The anguish she felt whenever she looked into the mirror, he had changed who she was down to her very core. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the scrub brush harder, trying to keep control of her anger. What would responding to him do? Only anger him further and with the alcohol flowing in his veins, anger is the last thing she wanted him feeling; broken nose evidence of that. She took a deep calming breath as she released the scrub brush and folded her hands in her lap.

"I am sorry I have been the cause of so much torment in your life, would you like me to help take the edge off?" He seemed taken aback at first at her suggestion, then as the double meaning began to sink in, he smiled at her leeringly.

"What did you have in mind, Darlin?" She kept her gaze down, fighting the blush that was creeping up her neck.

"Well when we....when you and I...uh, well sex releases endorphins, which can alleviate pain..."

"Are you asking me if I want sex?" he asked bluntly, enjoying how she squirmed beneath his gaze. She had never been so forward before, it was different and his cock grew stiff.

"If you don't want sex I could make you feel better with my mouth," she offered. Michael had enjoyed oral so much that she had gotten quite skilled at it. Clyde set the bottle aside and pulled Lyndsay to her feet, lifting her chin so that their eyes met. A masculine hunger filled his gaze and she tentatively placed a hand on his chest, raising herself to her toes so that she could kiss him. She was slow and her heart raced as she moved closer, until their lips brushed and she closed her eyes as she kissed him.

His body was rigid, alert and ready for trouble, but Lyndsay wasn't going to give him trouble, she wanted to distract him from his anger and pain. Clyde eventually relaxed and leaned down giving her better access. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she pressed herself against him, enticing him. His breath hitched as she ground her hips forward, arousing him further. He grabbed her by the hips as he pressed harder, almost painfully hard. Lyndsay managed not to tremble as her hand slid down and cupped his erection, softly stroking him through his jeans.

"You have no idea what you do to me Skye," he mumbled as her kisses planted their way down his neck, moving across his collarbone before moving lower. As she unbuttoned his shirt, she kissed her way lower, eventually stopping when she reached his waistband. She didn't need permission or orders for what came next. She unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, her fingers stroked the skin along his waistband, teasing him. Clyde rested his hand on her head, running his hand through her hair as she pulled down his jeans and boxer briefs. Lyndsay kissed the head while she wrapped her hands around the shaft.Clyde grunted as she ran her tongue in circles around the head of his shaft. She took a little of him into her mouth, withdrawing, then taking just a little bit more, slowly wetting his member until her lips finally reached the base of his cock. He held her there for a few minutes and she focused on relaxing, letting him stretch her throat before sliding himself back out long enough for her to catch her breath.

Clyde didn't bother staying gentle, his grip tightened, his pace quickened and Lyndsay remained on her knees. She could hear hear him panting, as he brought himself closer and closer to the edge before he gave one final thrust, pouring his hot load down her throat. She coughed lightly as he pulled himself free, his hand gently ran through her hair.

"Do not think you are sly, Darlin. I am on to your wiles, fortunately for you, the sight of you pleading on your knees arouses me to no end. Finish this floor then we'll go and have lunch." Lyndsay nodded and obeyed. It was well into the afternoon by the time she was finished. After she had scrubbed the blood clean, Clyde had ordered she do all of the floors. And now she wasn't sure she could lift her arms to empty the bucket beside her. Her fingers throbbed, each digit pulsing with a life of their own. The muscles in her forearms and biceps ached and she slumped over the pail too exhausted to move any further. Clyde took one look at her and simply crouched down and lifted her up into his arms where she leaned her head against his shoulder. He took her straight into the bathroom where he immediately began to draw her a bath.

"I'm sorry Clyde, my hands just hurt." Clyde kneeled down and and clasped his hands around hers.

"You did well. You did not complain, you didn't give up and you finished the chore. I am very proud of your accomplishment." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and set her hands back into her lap. Clyde turned to the sink and opened the cupboard underneath. He reached into the back and after shuffling some items around he pulled out a small bottle of oil.

"A little bit of lavender to help relax." He poured a little into the bathwater before returning it to its place. With his assistance she was able to get the dress off and the slip underneath. She no longer cringed or shied away when she was naked before him. It struck her strange at how quickly she had forced herself to get used to it. It only made her hate him more. She kept her eyes down, hiding the emotions that were whirling through her. When the bathtub was two thirds full Clyde shut the water off and eased her into the hot water.

She didn't mind the slightly raised heat, it felt almost like a hot tub would but without the wonderful massaging streams.

"I'm gonna start supper, why don't you wash up?" He handed her a washcloth and a bar of soap. She smiled as she pressed it against her nose. It was honey and buttermilk, her favorite. She gave him a questioning glance, why the sudden kindness? It had only been several hours since he had been drunk and ranting in the barn, discussing his desire to murder her and now he was giving her a treat. He only gave her a toothy grin and left the bathroom, leaving the door open, but that didn't matter to her anymore. She stared at the bar of soap in her hand for what felt like forever, she couldn't figure it out; what kind of game was he playing? Surely a simple blow job hadn't cheered him up that much. She shook her head and soaked the washcloth before getting it soapy. She groaned as she pushed through the pain and scrubbed herself clean, grateful to find a bottle of shampoo beside her. By the time she was finished he returned to help her out, dry off and dress in a nightgown. She closed her eyes as he dried her hair with the towel, running his hands through it to get out any massive tangles that may have gathered.

"It has grown quite a bit," he announced. She only nodded and followed him out of the bathroom. He tossed the towel into the hamper and by the time she reached the living room she could smell the spaghetti and garlic bread. Her mouth watered and she was taken aback when he pulled her chair out. Every nerve in her body felt on high alert as she cautiously sat down and allowed him to push her chair in. She took the napkin and gently unfolded it, placing it in her lap as she rested both hands out on the sides of the table, palms up as she waited for Clyde to take his seat. After a simple prayer Clyde kissed her fingers and they dug into their plate.

"This is delicious!" she praised, her stomach warming as food finally hit it. She forced herself to slow down, pace her bites. She had spent so many days hungry that she was worried she would eat until she made herself sick. Lyndsay was grateful she had chosen to do so because she only managed to eat about a third of the plate he had served her.

"Do you think you have any room for dessert?"

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked bravely. She hadn't wanted to sound ungrateful but she couldn't continue with the charade. His mood had shifted so suddenly and she folded her shoulders in when she watched his electric blue eyes turn cold and his smile faded.

"Would you rather I be cruel? I can be cruel if that's what you desire darlin," he offered.

"What's for dessert?" she asked sweetly, giving him a small smile.

"Apple pie!" A deep uneasiness began to settle in her, what if this wasn't him suddenly being nice? What if this was some test? Perhaps this was a trick or maybe it was her last meal and he had decided he was simply done with her. She tried to wipe the fugitive tears away before he returned but she wasn't fast enough and he lifted her chin.

"What are you cryin for?"

"I'm sorry, it won't happen again," she apologized. She knew he hated it when she cried, he said the tears stained her pretty face.

"That does not answer my question Skye," he replied.

"I'm afraid you will be upset with my answer." His grip tightened and she didn't resist him as he pulled her face closer to his.

"I am going to be upset if you continue to dance around my question and not give me a straight answer. Why are you crying?"

"I thought maybe the reason you were being so nice to me was because you planned to kill me afterwards." He let go and was still for several minutes before he burst into laughter, the sound causing Lyndsay to jump from the sheer surprise of the sound.

"Oh Darlin, I have no reason to kill you anymore. Am I still upset with the stunt you pulled? Yes! But the whiskey numbs it, that thing you did your with your tongue helped a bit too I suppose. And now that Samson is out of reach, I have nothing to worry about. For the first time since I took you, I feel a strange sense of calm. You aren't going to run, and you wouldn't dare try to kill me now, because you know if you do, you'll never see Samson again. And now that I don't have to worry about those things, I can finally begin to woo you."

Lyndsay felt stunned, she had heard the words but it was as if her brain simply couldn't process the words and what they implied. He wanted to woo her? Could it really even be called wooing if she was still there against her will? Or were his words another test?

"I already love you husband," she replied. He pushed the piece of pie closer and made his way back to his seat, a smirk on his face.

"I hear the words, And I am pleased that you repeat them. But we both know it's not true, you say it because you have been told to say it." She opened and closed her mouth a few times before she finally managed to speak.

"I'm not sure what to say," she admitted. Did he want her to admit it? Deny it? She was terrified of choosing the wrong response.

"That's alright sweetheart, I am not looking for a response. But I am using this time to my advantage. I have been imagining living like this, with you, for years Skye."

"You told me you wanted to make me suffer..." A slow sinister grin spread across his face.

"Exactly darlin, what better way to make you suffer than to make you fall in love with me?" *He's finally lost it*, she thought. There was no other explanation, something in his brain had finally snapped or maybe she had died and this was some sort of strange hell. He leaned over the table and started digging into his slice of pie. Her hand shook a little and she took a few deep breaths to settle down before she began to eat her own piece. Apple pie was her favorite type of pie, it reminded her of all the afternoons she spent baking with her mother. They had a few apple trees in their backyard so they were able to pick them and bake fresh apple pies for all the local bake sales. Between church and school they rarely had any apples left by the end of summer.

She took a few bites but found herself unable to eat anymore. She simply had no room, her stomach had shrunk from the lack of steady diet.

"I would like to save it for another time if that is alright. I would not want it to go to waste."

"There is foil in the drawer to the left of the sink." She grabbed her piece of pie and her leftover spaghetti and went about covering them both and putting them away in the fridge. It felt bizarre, as if she had stepped into some strange alternate reality. It had happened so fast. Too fast. One minute she had been chained in the basement, and now she was walking freely in the kitchen with full plate of food and dessert. It had been too long since she had had this type of freedom and she felt uneasy. Scared to enjoy it, scared not to enjoy it and upset him. He was truly sadistic to make her feel this way.

"How do you feel about a card game?" She shuffled her way back to her spot and began cleaning off the table.

"Would you like me to fetch the cards?" she asked. He took his last bite of pie, licking the fork clean before grabbing his dish and taking it to the sink.

"Why don't you sit down, I'll get the cards." After he rinsed off his plate he walked off into the back of the house and Lyndsay felt almost suffocated by the sudden silence. Her ankle tingled, reminding her that she was unchained now. She casually glanced around, she had spent limited time out of the basement and most of that time she had her attention on Samson. It was cozy, most of the cosmetics of the house looked like they were from the fifties. There was a stiff vintage lime green couch, some of the wall paper in the kitchen held Baroque wall paper behind the sink and cabinets; but it stopped halfway across the dining room and was replaced by wooden panelling. The house was old, but it had been taken care of as far as she could see. But that wasn't no surprise to her considering how handy they all seemed to be. If it had been under different circumstances she might have found it impressive.

Across the Tv and to the left was the wooden stove, close enough that she could feel the heat of it on her back. Clyde returned shortly, already shuffling a deck of cards in his hand. He made himself comfortable across from her and dealt them each two cards.

"Do you know how to played blackjack, Skye?" She nodded.

"My Dad taught me, we used to play for cheetos." She froze and covered her mouth with her hand. Why had she revealed that? She scowled then realized he could see her face and relaxed, taking a few calm breaths.