Mesmer, page 7
He stood, stretched, his joints cracking as he pushed his linked hands at the ceiling. His boots looked like they belonged on a biker. “Yeah. Only now you don’t have to worry anymore. I’ve got you, don’t I? Your apartment lease has been broken, paid out so I could make you disappear easily.”
Tomik walked toward me, boots clomping heavily on the bare floorboards.
*The last room had carpet,* gray girl mused. *Hotel Acambo he called it.*
If that was true, maybe gray girl was real? Stupid, but I had to ask.
“Where is this?” I backed away again, gesturing at the room, anything to distract from Tomik coming.
“Guess.” His tongue poked along inside his lip, and he bent with his hands propped on his knees. “Fuck, you look edible, Hannah. Stop trying to get away.”
His chuckle was low, ominous, and I shivered, my erect nipples almost painful as they tightened more.
“No.” Damn, had I whimpered? Ashamed, sure I would wet myself any second, I shook my head.
“Enough. I have you on a string. It was just nice to let it pay out, see the Hannah wriggle on the end of my hook.” His eyes glinted with what seemed evil intent. “Enough with trying to worm out of this. Come out, puppet girl.” He clicked his fingers then tossed a key at me. It slid across the floor. “Get that. Use it.”
Thoughts dwindled, shut down.
I stretched my arm through the wire, fetched the key and unlocked the padlock, then swung open the door. I crawled out and waited.
“Who are you? Your name.”
“Hannah Jones,” I whispered.
“Are you not wondering why you’re obeying me, waiting naked on your knees?”
I stared up at this male god and found no answer for him.
“Ahh. Too far. I’m learning. I can do this, fuck with your head and still see you wriggle. Let’s try a lesser compulsion. Dialing back.” His finger revolved.
A veil lifted and I gasped.
This was wrong. “Let me go? Please?” Begging made me feel terrible but what other choice did I have? I sank back on my knees and contemplated sprinting from the room. If only my limbs weren’t leaden, my fingers cold.
“Better. And no. Open your legs. Play with yourself for me.”
I watched my hand begin to move. Horrified, I stopped it with great effort. “No.” Looking up at him seemed dangerous. So I didn’t. “What are you?”
“A mesmer. That’s what we call ourselves.”
*Oh. This is new. Keep him talking.*
“You’re not real,” I said firmly to my knees.
“But I am.”
Thank god he didn’t know I was speaking to gray girl. He might think me mad. I giggled.
His knee arrived before me, thunk to the floor. Tomik’s hand nudged up my chin. “You aren’t curious about mesmers?”
“I am.”
“Think back over the last minutes.”
Oh. I winced into the realization that he’d already messed with me. “You...” I shook my head, helpless to do anything but wanting to so badly. I’d forgotten myself for a few seconds.
*Not me though. Not me,* gray girl said softly. *I see all.*
Great. I had an omniscient ghost in my head.
*I’m not a ghost. I think. Not sure what I am.*
“I hate you,” I whispered.
Tomik laughed, searched my face. “Good. You’re just where I want you to be.” His thumb made its slow way across the surface of my mouth, that mildest of touches, and the hand beneath my jaw seemed to crowbar his possession deep. “There’s something unique about owning you. Maybe having another girl would do the same but I don’t know.” His voice quieted.
He wasn’t saying that to me, I figured.
Uncomfortably hot at his touch, I stared back. “I hate you. I hate you. Fuck you.”
His mouth curved into a smile, and he released my jaw. “Even fucking better. Some fire. Play with yourself. But don’t come. Did you know you aren’t able to come by yourself without me instructing you, or with any ordinary man? I bet that’s news.”
News? It was a disaster. My eyebrows twitched into a frown before I realized my hand was moving.
Horrified, I looked down to see my palm smooth over my mound. It slid further, my fingers slipping between my legs, finding the engorged lips of my pussy. My mouth opened. Anticipation had me speechless.
I needed this.
The small moan I gave out wobbled in volume as I began to work at myself. My forefinger curved inside, separating my lips. My flesh was hot and squeezing onto my finger.
Immersed, I tilted back my head and the first flurry of sensations hit, shaking me, making my thighs tense then release. And he was watching. I should not be obeying.
“Fuck you,” I said quietly, the only curse my brain would cough up. God. I squirmed on my own finger, mouth staying open, breaths harshening, my clit plumping with arousal.
“This is nice. Simple but nice.” Tomik walked his knees closer, pushed a hand into my hair, his big hand holding the side of my face with ease.
Distraught, but increasingly turned on, I glimpsed him through the confusion of my building desire.
I wanted him.
Words tumbled, whispered, they almost ran together. “Hey, no, stop this. You have to…” But my fingers kept pumping. I leaned into his hand, nuzzling at where I thought he must be.
“No.”
My eyelids fluttered. I needed him, this dangerous beast of a man. I swore I could scent his erection. With my mouth wide open he smelled amazing, as if he forced the atoms of his existence down my throat. Ramming them in.
I drowned. Rhythmically, I shoved myself onto my hand, hearing clear evidence of my lubrication.
His shadow loomed closer, and he put his mouth over mine.
The taste of him swamped me. Floundering, I gasped around his lips, blinded as he ate and tongued his way over my mouth, my lips, nose, the side of my neck.
My fingers worked furiously. Coming was imminent.
“I need,” I gasped out.
“What do you need?” He grabbed my throat in one hand.
One in my hair, the other there. I bucked onto my circling thumb and pistoning fingers. “Please? Please?”
“To come?” His words rasped in my ear and he licked me, languidly. “It’s a no. You can stop now. Take your hands off yourself.”
What?
Though I whined, embarrassing myself by my weakness, I took my shaking hands away then found myself hanging in his throat grip. My slippery hand was on his wrist. The other I braced on my thigh while I plucked at him.
“Now you see. Hands down. Stop scratching at me.”
Lifeless, my arm fell to my side. He released my throat and kept me upright by the hand in my hair, found my right nipple and twisted it. I should’ve been screaming instead I pushed myself forward.
“More?” His mouth was cruel, his eyes too. “More, Hannah? Say it.”
Oh God, a new gush of wetness had leaked from me, and my breathing roughened.
I shouldn’t have, but I blurted out a “Yes.”
“Of course it’s more. It felt good didn’t it? Me, making you hurt?”
Screwing up my mouth to stop my answer, I shut my eyes then opened them. Shut them. Dark, light, dark. Pleasure surged again. My spine bowed. I wriggled and strived to hump something, his knee preferably.
“No.” His knee shifted. “Tell me. Answer, but don’t come. Remember I said not to?”
Distraught, I nodded and caught sight of that devious hand as he trapped my other nipple and… squeezed again.
“Oh! Oh fuck. Yes. Yes. Tomik, please. I want… I want…”
“Look at this tit of yours.” He shoved my head down so I could see.
The way my nipple was squashed and contorted by his finger and thumb fascinated me. Manhandled took on a whole new meaning. My panting was surely a betrayal.
He pushed me away then stood.
My hands shook as I tried to place them between my legs but found I couldn’t. Instead I clawed them into my thighs. The sheer impossibility of doing what I needed rendered me dumb.
Begging for his touch crossed my mind but thankfully not my lips.
I guess I looked desperate. A disgustingly superior smile stretched his mouth.
“Now you see how well I can control you.”
Asshole.
From somewhere I dug up defiance and muttered, “No.”
“You think?” A sound came out of him that was almost a growl. “I’m going to fuck your ass today. But first I’m going to show you how far my power goes. There is nothing I cannot make you do.”
Answering was filled with bad possibilities, so I merely glared up at him.
“Put your head down, spread your legs, palms upturned on your thighs.
Immediately I obeyed. Then I lowered my head and let my hair shroud me, watched it sway as I inhaled, exhaled. The glistening wetness on my hand was an awful sign of what I’d done.
“Beautiful,” he whispered. “Such a good girl, but I have more for you to do.”
Fear wormed in. What did he mean?
There must be limits, a way to stop him controlling me?
*Maybe.* Gray girl huffed, heaved herself onto a sofa.
Useless. Go away, figment. Wait, didn’t I name you?
*Yeah. You did. Greta.* She held up a hand then slowly erected a finger. *Up yours.*
Oh hell. My own figment was telling me to fuck off. I would’ve died of laughter any other time.
Tomik had walked away, and now he was back.
A large red rubbery device dangled from one hand, a white long-sleeved dress in the other. “This anal plug, you’re going to sit on it for me...”
My eyes widened at that. It was huge.
“Until it’s all the way in, then you will dress in this.” He raised the dress. “You will take your handbag which has a loaded Glock inside it.” He lowered his head, staring. “Got that?”
I nodded, swallowed. Could I shoot him?
“You will go downstairs. If you see any of my girls, be aware they are collectables. They clean and cook. Sometimes I fuck them. They won’t help you. Go to the front door, walk out, my little bitch.” Bitch, he caressed that word, as if it was an endearment, and I shifted my spread legs, uncomfortable.
Oh hell. I would be free? Was he releasing me?
A smile spread on those sexy lips of his. “You know you’re dripping, girl. Your pussy is.”
“Oh.” A blush heated my cheeks. I wriggled, flicked another glance at him.
Teeth hid in that mouth of his, ones that had bitten and licked me halfway to the nipple he’d crushed. The pain there throbbed awake, flared. I breathed slower, aware he was watching me. He walked closer then around to my rear.
“Lift your ass.”
I did so, and he slid that butt plug under me.
“Go down until it touches.”
Letting my ass descend, I felt the poke of the tip near my hole and shuddered for he stroked me near there also, going in circles and loops.
“Down more, go slow. I know you can take this. All of you collectables do. Only fear holds you back. Use your hands to take the weight.”
I lowered myself more, my hands braced to the floor, wriggling, feeling myself open, the anal muscles relaxing and letting it slide in. My mouth in an O, I shuddered, squeaked, then went down some more.
“Fuck, fuck.” I bowed my head, keening, eyelids jammed shut, then wormed myself downward again. “Oh.”
“That’s it. Yes.” He nipped my neck, breathed hot air on me, and sank his teeth in deeper as the plug forged higher.
The last definite pop as it seated itself had me gasping. Assimilating this foreign invader left me drifting and feverish, wanting more to be done to me, not by my own hands but his.
If he would just fuck me, once? I shook my head. No.
I hated this. Before he’d just done things to me, and I’d detested that, but this, it violated my own sense of self.
Hell no. Oh, but the feel of him forcing his way into me. It would be—
Tomik’s hand landed on my shoulder.
“There. That’s too highly flanged to fall out without me hauling on it. It’ll stay while you walk.” His chuckle was evil. “You will leave the hotel and walk in any direction you want to. When you reach fifty paces from the front door, you will take the gun out and shoot yourself in the head. Through your mouth. Angle it up.”
I thought my heart stopped, just for that moment. “What?” I swallowed.
Tomik stood. “Or you can choose to turn and come back here before that happens.” Then he made his way back to the chair and sat, one eyebrow cocked, waiting. “Go.”
He thought I would shoot myself, even if I was away from him?
Incredulous, I still did as he’d said to. I dressed, with that plug inside me—huge and radiating sensations I wished I could avoid.
I left him, still seated, with my handbag over my shoulder and the weight of the gun making it feel lopsided.
Down the stairs, through a long corridor with many doorways, past a girl sweeping and another, as equally doe-eyed as the first, restocking a bar. Did this mean he sometimes had guests? I tried not to imagine what sort of guests those might be.
This Hotel Acambo was dilapidated, needed repainting, and it appeared he used it as his private dwelling. The girls? I guess he fed them.
They weren’t dead at least.
Every move I made reminded me of the plug, and at times the bulk and stretch of it fluttered pleasure into my lower body. I had to stop and wait before I could continue.
Nervous, I opened the large timber front door, closed it, stepped out onto a quiet street. Rocking on my feet, I realized I wasn’t sure where this was or even what country.
Tomik hadn’t instructed me to discover that. I brushed it aside. After I’d gone past his fifty-pace boundary, I would worry. There were no shops or signs nearby. The trees and shrubs were green. The sky cloudy. A man walking a dog was dressed for mild weather and I… I wore a thin dress, no underwear, and a butt plug.
This was surreal.
A shiver made goosebumps, and my nipples rose in sympathy. My feet were bare, the pavement cool but not freezing. The man passed me, eyebrows up, staring. I guess I looked out of place.
A police station should be my aim.
And if I asked this guy?
I tried. I hurried after him, ducklike until I sorted out how to stride with that in me. One, two… ten… fifteen steps, with my mouth struggling to produce words, and I found I was mute. No words. No sound. I couldn’t even wave madly at him.
After sighing, I kept walking. Eighteen… twenty-two. I may as well go in this direction. If nothing else, he might turn eventually and ask why I followed him?
Thirty-three… forty-one. By then I was sweating despite the thin material and the breeze.
Trees shaded us overhead, and soon I would pass near a street sign, then, then I would have a good chance to know where I was. Somewhere that spoke the English language? The dog was a small brown terrier. The man seemed oblivious to me, which might be good. If the butt plug fell out, I could pretend it wasn’t mine.
Forty-eight. My hand was already inside the handbag, and I’d found the butt of the pistol.
Forty-nine. My mind seemed filled with too much of everything, and I couldn’t think past what was about to happen. I rubbed my left palm around on the side of my head, moving my skin in circles, trying to ignore what Tomik had told me.
To shoot myself. Why? Why would I?
My right hand felt as if it would cramp, with how fast and firm it clung to the metal.
Let it go, I told myself, told my hand. Nothing budged. I dared not take that step, yet how else would I find out the truth?
Risking blowing my brains out was a bad way to test this.
A half-step? I raised my foot as if to do it and my heart galloped faster.
*You can do it,* Greta urged, speaking for the first time in ages. And I… I had halted.
Forty-nine.
Inside my ass, the butt plug pulsed as if alive. A reminder of him.
I can control you.
“Fuck you,” I said quietly, agonizing.
Things murmured at me. Of possibilities. Of triggers being relentlessly pulled. Shadows of things that could happen next. My stomach lurched as the trees and footpath circled.
I… could feel the hard barrel entering my mouth, could see the steel lurking in the darkness of my handbag where my knuckles were white, amid the chaos of old tissues and receipts and a lipstick.
How long had I been stopped here?
Dead leaves were below, skittering past my bare feet in a gust.
“Can do this,” I said to myself.
The man was surely gone. I couldn’t hear his shoes or the scratch of the dog’s nails on concrete.
I put my foot back down. Cold under me, that concrete.
I knew it now. He was right. I looked up, tilted my head and saw the sky was blue up there after all, the clouds scudding away. I was free here, but I was not. He had me still. The bastard.
What could I do?
I couldn’t be free even if I was not with him, this Tomik, my lost guy, this man who used to be my friend. And I wondered at his motive in letting me loose. Did he only wish to show how absolute his power? That he could make me blow my own head off?
Maybe I should, for my own sake. What use was a future like this, like it had been, forgetting what I’d done the day before, knowing it must have been terrible and disgusting?
I could. I could take that step. But such a futile, useless end to my life. A cowardly end.
Tomik. I rolled his name on my tongue. He used to be good.
Maybe… Tentatively I dared to imagine something brighter. Maybe he still could be?
I rolled my shoulders, sighing a ragged breath that caught on my unshed tears. I let my head drop.
To shoot myself or what?
Something about me was unique, yes? His own words. I hated what he’d become, but what if I could change things? As if. As if that were truly possible. I was just scared. Dead, I changed nothing. Living was always going to be better than putting a gun in my mouth.
