The Cave Ch. 03

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A woman wakes in a strange place.
21k words
4.8
17.8k
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Part 3 of the 4 part series

Updated 06/07/2023
Created 04/03/2015
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Clunkety
Clunkety
102 Followers

It was the screaming that woke me and my eyes bolted open to perfect blackness.

Another scream, the tail end of it garbling with sobs, and I remembered where I was. Exhaling, I shook off my alarm. It was nothing. The new girl was awake now, that's all.

Reaching over my head, I grasped the chains I was tethered to and hauled myself up on stiff legs. My shackles clinked as I stretched my arms and my naked breasts bounded heavily as I jogged in place to circulate my blood.

Across the dark room, slow clicks, claws on stone floor. Pratt circling the new girl, I was sure. I heard his rapid sniffs as he took in her scent and it hurt my heart. It wasn't so long ago I was tied to her chains, in a state of mindless terror as some creature snuffled noisily near my ear. I had been wondering what was so special about me for him to bring me here, but now I knew there was nothing special about me. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, driving home after my spicy Chinese Combo #5, when something ran in front of my headlights.

I wondered where Pratt had plucked this new girl from. Was it the same road I had been on? Probably on a brisk run, considering the toned rear and thighs I had gotten a glimpse of when Pratt first presented her to me.

Christ, I hated her. I hated them both.

*

"Is there...s-someone else here?"

Her voice rang out louder than I think she intended, bouncing around the darkness from the cave's high ceilings. Pratt had gone to clean up. I debated whether to say anything, but I couldn't disappear into the darkness forever.

"Yeah," I sighed. "There is. Hi. I'm Layla."

She sniffed and I heard her chains rattling. "Are you, um, tied up, too?"

I nearly laughed. "Right now I am."

"My head hurts."

"You'll feel better once you drink some water."

"Where are we?"

"I don't know. I woke up here like you."

She whimpered something unintelligible. Then, "He threw something down next to me. It's wet. And it stinks."

Our dinner, I realized, probably a large jack rabbit. I knew now it was supposed to represent a gift, a peace offering, but I don't think she was going to understand even if I told her. Instead I offered some advice. "If you stand up, you can rest your arms. It's okay to stand."

"Are there spiders?"

"Spiders?" I muttered.

"Or snakes?" she cried.

I began to draw in my legs, feeling squeamish. "I—no. No, I don't think so."

"But it's a cave. There're always snakes in a cave!"

"I've never seen—"

"Oh my god what was that?"

She was really freaking me out. "What was what?"

"Something just crawled over my leg!" I heard her chains vigorously jangling as she writhed from imaginary things.

"Ok, calm down," I said. "Tell me your name."

She was sobbing out loud again, in monotone, like a far-off tornado siren. "It...it's...Riley..."

"Okay—Riley? I've been here a while and I've never once seen a spider or a snake. Trust me, this place is critter free. Now just take a breath."

I heard her take a great inhale and let it out. And then another.

"Are you from around here?" I asked, trying to keep her mind off what she couldn't see.

"Huh? Oh, um, no. I'm from Canby."

"Canby. That's near the South Dakota border."

"You've been there?"

"Once. Research."

She swallowed noisily, fighting to breathe evenly through her nose. "For what?"

"My last book. Small-town life in Minnesota."

"You're a writer."

I felt the tension melting and I was able to take a breath myself. "I am. Unless my publisher dropped me because I haven't answered the phone in three weeks. What are you doing so far north?"

"I came up for the weekend."

"The weekend..." I mumbled, nostalgically. Out in the real world, it was the weekend.

"The trees are turning and I wanted to take pictures of them."

"So you're a photographer?"

"In my free time."

"Free time from what?"

"I'm a Biology major at the U."

I hesitated. She was going to miss her classes come Monday. But then, I suppose it didn't matter how many classes she missed if she never went back. Up until yesterday, I thought it would always just be Pratt and me, but now I realized he was just updating his inventory. First in, first out. The woman here before me, Amy, she didn't last long after I arrived. And if I didn't escape soon, I was going to find out exactly what happened to her.

"You sound...busy," I finally commented.

But the conversation had already dwindled and I sensed Riley retreating back into fright.

"Layla?" she whispered.

"Yeah?"

"He took my clothes." She was speaking hushed now, but it was easy to hear her in the distinct acoustics of the cave.

"I know." I couldn't help to smile. "Mine too."

"What—what's he going to do to me?" she asked and her voice was on the edge of a wail as her hysteria began to resurface.

I sat up straighter, although she couldn't see it. It helped me to sound stern. "Nothing," I said. "Listen to me, Riley. Are you listening?"

"Ye—ah." Her octaves were going up the more we talked.

"He won't do anything to you. Not until—" I swallowed and I could feel the painful pinch in my broken heart again. "Not until you want him to."

"Wha..." she drifted. "Why would I want him to do anything to me?"

"He can smell your fear." Recalling my first week, my fright for him had simply evaporated, with no warning, and he knew it. "As long as you're still afraid, he won't touch you."

"Does he have a name?"

"It's Pratt." But even as I said it, it occurred to me he had never actually told me that, it was the name Amy gave me. And I seriously doubted she got that from Pratt himself. If he was one thing, it was not verbose. I wondered...was Pratt even his real name? Did he actually have a name? Or was Pratt just something one of his many love slaves had picked for him, passing down from woman to woman? The idea was a kick in the stomach.

"What is he?" she asked, on the edge of a sob.

"I—I don't know that, either." Nature's missing link was my best guess. "Just don't upset yourself when you see him, okay?"

"Is he hideous?" she squeaked.

Envisaging him, all I could see was his golden eyes glinting at me. "No," I said. "He's beautiful."

*

We didn't talk more than that. I heard Pratt's foot ticks coming down the stone hall and Riley's whimpers got louder as he began ripping branches apart for the fire.

Within minutes, he had a tiny blaze going to nudge back the shadows. He stood to supervise its progress and the small bubble of firelight illuminated his hairy feet, the odd digitigrade shape of his shins, and his gnarled Schwarzenegger knees. I felt my heart quicken with anticipation of his upcoming loincloth, where I might see indications of his passion, but then I heard the siren of Riley's sobs gaining authority.

I remembered my first day in the cave, how terrified I was of what I didn't know. What a pity this was her first impression of him, the strange horse-like quality of his lower half, instead of his flirty blonde eyes, evoking playful deviousness or sleepy lust. Or desperate apology, as was the case yesterday when he lowered a lifeless strawberry blonde onto our bed.

Turning on the ball of his foot, he started to climb the rock platform towards Riley to retrieve our dinner. From the shroud of darkness around her came a squealing scream that shaved my eardrums and scrunched my toes. Startled, Pratt stopped in his tracks.

But I could see why she was afraid. Pratt's impressive silhouette against the firelight was daunting at first sight. A layer of soft, brown hair covered most of his body and a loincloth of mink strips concealed the rest.

"Go on!" she sobbed. "Go on, leave me alone!"

Oh shit.

I'd forgotten to tell her the two simple rules Amy had relayed to me. No eye contact. And no talking. It had been so long since those rules applied to me.

Crouching down on all fours like a tailless jungle cat, Pratt lunged into Riley's shadows and released a deafening, fearsome growl, one I had heard only once that wasn't in the throes of passion. It had been directed at Amy after she attacked me.

I squinted to see his faint outline standing aggressively on hands and feet over Riley's shrinking form. I think I stopped breathing. I think everyone did. The only sound was the occasional pop of fire.

Slowly, Pratt retreated from her, back into the light. I could see the russet hackles on his back were puffed up. I couldn't believe it. I didn't even know he had hackles. He grabbed the lifeless rabbit next to her by one of its limbs and stomped back to the fire. Shuddering, Pratt settled the hairs on his back and sat down on the smooth, gray log bench to make short work of the rabbit.

He didn't use a knife. It was one of the most incredible things to watch as he broke a few strategic joints and tore the skin off in one efficient pull. In minutes the rabbit carcass was turning over the flames.

Pratt worked his way around the room, lighting the candles in all the little natural-made wall niches. I kept a sharp eye on Riley as he did this, watching her as she absorbed her surroundings. The rusty cuffs on her slender forearms, the texture and sediment design on the cave walls, how the light danced on the spikes of stalactites on the ceiling. I noticed with some interest the thin layer of new yellow straw that had been laid down for her. I knew from experience it offered little comfort. Pratt must have replenished it at some point before Riley's arrival, while I was sleeping.

Sadness gored my heart as I realized how far in advance he had been preparing for her. Glancing up at my wrist secured in its iron manacle, I noted the primitive filigree of my rabbit-tooth bracelet as it dangled delicately. Pratt's gift: given mere hours before presenting Riley to me. Was that part of the ritual, too? Did Pratt give Amy her bird's foot ring right before towing me nude and unconscious into the cavern?

And like a fool, I told him I loved him. Whether he could understand me or not was irrelevant. I knew what I meant and I felt sheepish every time I thought back on it. Yet I couldn't take it back. Not entirely.

Lingering around the bed, Pratt took an especially long time lighting the candles around me, his large feet padding dutifully around the pelagial bedding. I knew he wanted me to look up at him, but I refused. I wanted to stay angry with him, to remind me I didn't want to be a part of this anymore. I had actually seen myself acquiescing to him and his lifestyle—if it was just the two of us. Any more was over my limit.

Eventually he made his way to Riley's part of the cave. With every wooden wick he lit, the smaller Riley became, drawing in her legs, hunching her shoulders so that there was very little of her showing. Even her silky tresses of strawberry blonde draped the front of her chest in two straight swags to help hide her breasts. Her eyes caught mine and I tried to reassure her with a kindhearted smile, but I think she was too shell-shocked to respond. Instead, her intensely harrowed gaze traveled up and down Pratt as he passed by her.

I hoped he didn't notice or he might punish her again for eye contact. I felt responsible for their altercation. It was supposed to be my job to guide her. Even Amy found it in her cold heart to give me pointers on my first day. I'd like to think I would be more welcoming than she had been, but it was difficult. Someday Pratt will love Riley and he wouldn't need me anymore.

First in, first out.

When the rabbit was finished cooking, Pratt ate his portion first by the fire, and divided the rest up onto two metal plates. Stepping over the log bench, he brought me mine and I stood up to accept it, the way I had grown accustomed to doing. I took it with both hands and tugged, but he didn't let me have it right away. I stared down at my dinner, prime shreds of lean meat, although there was about half as much as there usually was.

I had a guilty inkling, knowing all Riley was getting was mostly gristle and fat. Christ, there was such little amount of her body to begin with; she was going to waste away quickly. At least I had a little cushion.

I pulled on my plate a second time and still Pratt didn't give it over. I didn't have to look up to feel the oppression of his scrutiny. He wanted acknowledgement. Finally, I gave it to him, peeking up, seeking out his eyes, molten caramel. His precious features were filled with melancholy but they brightened momentarily as we stared at each other. The profound connection of our familiarity was palpable.

I had been avoiding him since yesterday. When he dropped a sleeping Riley off at our bed, I rejected my grooming and refused to share the bed with him and he had no choice but to leave me in my chains. It had been a whole day and half since we made love. I wondered if that was the longest he'd ever gone. I could definitely sense the sexual frustration radiating off him, a glimmer of hunger in his eyes as he dropped them briefly to my sex. My response was immediate and I felt a blast of heat gathering to my pubic lips, as if his look was a physical touch.

Releasing the plate, Pratt permitted me to eat. He turned to bring Riley her meal.

She began screaming the instant he faced her and didn't stop until he put her plate in the sill above her head and walked away. It was irritating to my nerves, but as I gourmandized on scraps of oily meat, I took some satisfaction in her shrieks. While I cried a lot, I don't believe I ever screamed when I first came to the cave. For me, the screaming came later...

Pratt left the room soon after to dispose of the rabbit refuse. Maybe even to throw the still-warm fur up on a stretcher. Although I was pretty sure the skin had to be treated somehow, I didn't know anything about any of that. As soon as he was gone, Riley and I exchanged looks.

"You have to eat," I urged, pointing up to the plate waiting for her. "He only gives us enough to survive."

She glanced up over her shoulder at it. "Is it safe?"

"As long as it goes down the right tube," I quipped.

She was oblivious to my humor, too busy carefully climbing to her feet. Her legs were a little wobbly at first but she stretched her arm up to retrieve her meal. I caught a glimpse of the blonde fur at the top of her legs until she averted her body to quickly scarf the lesser cuts of meat. My eyes lingered on a few adorable strands of straw adhering to her slim buttocks.

"Riley, you can't talk to him," I said, swallowing down my meal. "I don't even think he likes us to talk to each other."

"I gathered that much," she said over her shoulder.

"And just to be safe, don't look him in the eye. I think he's still a stickler for that, too."

"Have you tried to escape?" she asked. I'm not even sure she heard my warning. I don't think she expected to play by the new rules for very long.

"Not exactly."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I ran away from him, but—" But it was only so he would chase me. "But it was a dead end."

"I'm sure this place has a lot of those," she said distantly.

I nodded and finished eating.

By the time Pratt returned, we had both finished. Pratt brought me a cup of water. I made sure I was standing when he approached so that I could take the cup, instead of having him tip the cup to my lips as he sometimes liked to do, when I was more susceptible to his curious fingers petting the nest of dark hair between my legs or mischievously pinching my nipples. Tonight he kept a respectable distance.

The water tasted of the minerals from whatever cool river or lake it came from. I took only as much as I needed, leaving more than half for Riley. She was going to need it to replace her fluids. As soon as Pratt turned to bring the rest to her, I snagged her frightened gaze.

Drink, I mouthed emphatically to her, raising an imaginary cup to my lips.

Her nod was tiny and dazed. She looked up at Pratt as he handed the cup to her and then remembered at the last second to lower her eyes. I could tell she didn't want to take it as her wide eyes stared at Pratt's large bony fingers curled delicately around the cup. Mustering her nerve, she grabbed the water and guzzled it down. Thrusting back the cup, she looked for me around Pratt and I grinned at her, offering a thumbs-up.

Pratt dropped the cup back into the bucket. He swung by the dim nook in the back, where he stockpiled all his little baubles and trinkets (I sensed out of prudence, rather than cupidity), and I heard the ceramic slide of the cuffs key.

Riley was watching his every move raptly and it appeared as if she had forgotten to breathe. I liked watching her watching him. It was like seeing Pratt through new eyes again.

After he unlocked my cuffs, Pratt stuffed the key in the waistband of his loincloth and I plotted a path down towards the fire pit. To my right, Riley's chains got excited. Her face was on the edge of frantic as we were leaving the room. I discretely showed her my palm as a signal to calm down. It was time for a bathroom break, but she probably wouldn't find out about that until tomorrow morning.

It was cooler in the tunnel. Pratt led me to the right at the fork, to the cavern at the dead end. The candle was playing in its usual recess in the wall and I spied my carefully excavated hole near the back. I would get there eventually, but I needed to use the bucket first, which was half buried in the dirt for easy squatting.

Pratt didn't closely hover while I did my business, not like he used to. Sometimes he leaned against the wall or sat on the rock where he cleaned my backside when I was done, but where ever he waited, I think he had an obsession with watching. Tonight was no different. He sat leaned forward on the rock, his elbows on his knees and his eyes on me the whole time. It amplified the constant pulse in my nether lips.

Finished, I stood up and faced him. His expression lightened as he straightened, reinforcing his lap so that I could lie across it for my backside scouring.

I wanted to go to him. But I knew where it would lead if I did and my heart was still sore. I loved him and he brought another woman into the cave. It didn't help Riley was a total sweetheart, either because I didn't know who to properly direct my hatred to.

I started to leave, but Pratt could move fast when he wanted to. He filled up the archway, blocking my way, and before I knew it, he was only obstructing half of it, lowering to his haunches, looking genuinely bewildered and forlorn.

He reached out, but I only needed to take a tiny step back to avoid him. He reached further, swiftly this time, and hauled me closer. He caught my hand and flattened it against his chest, over his heart. I knew what he was saying, but I didn't want to hear it and wrenched my hand away and pushed him back. It was like shoving a refrigerator.

I could feel the hot pressure of oncoming tears as they squeezed my eyeballs. I slapped my hand over my chest and clutched an invisible heart and mimed throwing it on the ground. Then I stomped on it for good measure.

Pratt recoiled, mouth open.

Acting it out felt almost as good as saying it. But now I just wanted to hide. Hard to do stark naked, so I crouched, wrapping my arms around my shins, and buried my face into my knees. The stomping made my foot hurt in addition to my heart and I wept so hard and cathartically I could feel my abdominals spasm and become tender.

Why was this news to him? After all the women he must have brought to the cave, how could he be so oblivious to their feelings? I couldn't be the first one to tell—er, gesture—it to him. Unless...

Clunkety
Clunkety
102 Followers