Shhh! It's a secret

monique_minx

Passionate Disgrace
Joined
Sep 27, 2009
Posts
8,248
OOC: Thanks for all the interest people! Thread closed to Ravenloft, Grania, Colette23 and myself!

“Secrets are made to be found with time.” – Charles Sanford.​

~II~​

“Where are we going Jackson?” The blindfolded woman asked giggling as he led her.

“Shhh! It’s a secret.” He whispered seductively into her ear, his hand around her waist as he guided her.

She kept giggling until a door creaked open, he took her inside and the heavy thud told her it had been closed. The blindfold was removed, the lock clicked and she began to scream…


~II~​

“Damn it!” She swore and snapped from the memory; not a woman but this woman – Chantelle.

Chantelle grimaced as her heel became wedged in the cement crack, she tried to pull it free but it refused to budge.

“Great! Wonderful, terrific! Perfect fucking cherry on my day!” She grumbled, “Hairdresser’s cut too much off and ‘accidentally’ bleach my hair. Unsatisfying evening to say the least and now to top it all off; my $200 heel is stuck!”

Probably a bad idea to walk down an alley straight out of a horror movie too but Chantelle liked to think she was fearless and that cliché shit never did wash with her. Her now blonde curls fell around her face; they were cut to her shoulders thanks to a rather overzealous woman wielding a pair of scissors. Her short blue halter dress was riding up due to her awkward and uneven position; accentuating her trim figure in the dim light.

“What if I added whipped cream to the delightful cake of a day you’re having Chans?” She froze in place as the deep sound of his voice reached her ears.

“Jackson?” She asked breathlessly and looked up; her hazel eyes met his piercing blue ones as he stepped from the shadows.

She resumed her struggle with the strappy black stiletto as he neared her and continued to speak, “The first week I could mistake, the second I could understand, the third I was willing to forgive but by the fourth week?”

He snarled and his fingers wrapped around her throat, he pulled her straight out of her heels and slammed her against the brick wall; winding her.

“By the fourth I was more than anxious my sweet puppet, I thought something had happened to you. Imagine my surprise to find you so very alive and well! I should kill you like the dog you are!” He growled at her but then softened, “But I could never…” He loosened his grip and let her breathe at last; she gulped bucketfuls of air as he started to walk away.

“You’ll come to me tomorrow night Chantelle.”

“No…” She gasped out hoarsely,” I’m no one’s bitch Jackson!” She leaned back against the wall trying to catch her breath and find her strength.

Jackson paused mid step as she spoke and his eyes lit up with fury before he spun on his heel. He strode up quickly and backhanded her across the face before he took her throat in a firm grip again. He pulled a small sharp knife from his pocket and held it up for her fearful gaze.

“No one’s bitch? Well you’ll be mine until I put you down slut!” He leaned over and whispered the rest in her ear, “Tomorrow night and yes, you will be there Chantelle, tomorrow night when you’re begging me to end your miserable existence as you scream for me? I’ll still kick you and watch you crawl across the floor as I smile at your suffering. Because my darling marionette, you endure so beautifully.”

With that Jackson slid the knife beneath the strap of her halter and sliced it cleanly; leaving the dress to fall to her hips. He pulled back from her ear to admire the curve of her exceptional breasts as they were exposed to the cool night air, her nipples hardening at the softest gust.

He grinned proudly and held the knife in his left hand; hovering over her right breast. He let the cold blade brush over her skin and flick over the nipple. Her eyes became pleading pools of fear as he did so.

“Please…Master, don’t do this please!” She whispered; his grip tightened in warning as she spoke.

“No my dear, I think you need a reminder of what I could do to you if you forget your place again…and you will come because I told you to…” The power of his words ran through her like ice chips slithering through her skin.

The blade slashed two quick strokes; she screamed as he vanished into the shadows and left her to crumple to the ground. Her breast was a bleeding mess; Chantelle couldn’t see the wounds for all the blood as it poured onto the blue fabric of her ruined dress. Her eyes were instantly bloodshot and tears ran down her cheeks.
 
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Jackson returned to his loft apartment, climbing the stairs to the platform that held his bed.
Everything was open, the bedroom, the living room, dining, kitchen, all in one inclusive area. No walls, it reflected his mind set quite well actually, no limits, no boundaries. He changed cloths, taking his time as he went about it, paying no mind to the woman he had cuffed to one of the support poles down below as she woke.

He put on a crisp white button down shirt, which had been freshly pressed, then a pair of worn, but comfortable black leather pants, carefully tucking the shirt into them. Next he slipped into an exquisitely hand made red velvet vest with fine black brocade work stitched in a Celtic knot pattern. Over this, he put on a long tail suit coat that went down to knee length. His tastes were expensive of course, bording on the excentric.

Finally dressed to his own satisfaction he came down the stairs that led to his bedroom and rounded the corner, comming with casual grace to stand before the woman he held captive. He'd cuffed her hands around the pole, leaving her in a sort of mockery of an embrace with it. "Well, what do you think, how do I look?" He asked her as he turned to model himself before her tear soaked eyes.

http://www.montrealhighrises.ca/Buildings/438_St_Pierre/resized_MontCA1190941064_picLIVING.jpeg
 
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Eric Drake was on his way home from work, having finished his shift at a local bar when he heard a scream cut through the stillness of the night. Without thought, he ran ahead, peering down each dark alley that he passed until he found the one the woman's scream had come from. There she was, a pathetic crumpled form, soaking in her own blood. The top of her dress hanging loose about her waist, bare breasts that would have been irresistable otherwise were coated in crimson, some of which was begining to coagulate.

Eric's nostrals flared as he growled under his breath at the sight of her. "Lady, stay still down there." He called sharply in warning, both for her not to panic and start attacking him, and to scare off any would be mugger before heading down. "I'm comming to help you." He added as he came near her and crouched down to look into her face. "Fuckin hell, who did this to you?!" He spat, tearing off his coat so he could use it to stop the bleeding. "Gotta get you to a hospital." He muttered as he reached out to help her up.
 
"Well, what do you think, how do I look?"

kayla ryan looked up at the man, the monster, who had taken her from the life she knew, and felt her tears renewing. she had slumped down to her knees in the night, too exhausted even to manage sleep just like all the other nights. Now however, when HE approached, she knew to get back to her feet; That was one of HIS rules, that she not be relaxed in HIS presence, to always be standing at the ready for HIM. Kayla knew too well that one did not ignore the rules.

she had petite her whole life, reaching an even five foot height and stopping there by her mid-teens. her chest had had other ideas, and was certainly not petite at a full, round D. she suspected the combination is what caught the man's eye; HE wanted a desirable woman, and one who would make HIM seem bigger, more dominant in contrast. HE had found success with kayla. When HE entered the room, she was suddenly two inches tall and quivering.

she tossed her head to get her long black hair off her face and then looked HIM over. she felt nothing but revoltion and disgust, but she smiled sweetly; That was a rule too.

"YOU look extremely handsome today...but YOU always do." her voice was tiny and it shook, but managed to convey the same sweet quality her smile had. kayla hoped HE would be gone soon, and maybe she could sleep. Maybe HE was in a good mood this morning, and would move her to what HE called the 'Guest Bedroom' again. It was no bigger than a closet, with a lumpy matress on a stark bedframe, but at least shackled to it she could be laying down.
 
Chantelle was near collapse when she heard footsteps approaching, she seized up in terror thinking that Jackson was returning to her.

"Lady, stay still down there."

She breathed a sigh of relief to hear the gruff voice of a man not her Master and she pressed her hand over her cut breast to stem the blood flow.

"I'm coming to help you."

She trembled but nodded, right now it didn't seem to matter who he was or why he wished to help her in a neighbourhood like this; only the pain mattered and god how it hurt!

"Fuckin hell, who did this to you?!"

She looked up and watched him remove his coat as he asked, she shook her head unable to answer such a question. She bit her lip and allowed him to help her to her feet, accepting his coat to cover the blood and her shameful exposure.

"Gotta get you to a hospital."

She stumbled, coughing as he said that and almost collapsed to the ground again. Chantelle shook her head violently and spoke incoherently for a few moments before she cleared her throat and started over.

"Please...no Sir! I can't...no hospitals...no police...please, I couldn't explain it..." She pleaded with him quietly, looking over at her discarded heels and her purse that had fallen to the ground.
 
Jackson

Jackson watched his captive as she rose to her feet, tossing her long hair from her face to look before answering. His eyes shifted to mere slits, suspicious of her every word. He began to grin, an off-putting expression as he reached his right hand out to cup Kayla's matching breast through the ragged cloths he had originally found her in.

At first he seemed to test the lush weight of that breast, then he slid his finger tips beneath the low cut of her blouse and tore it down sharply, savagely, exposing that one breast. "You are lying to me, my dear. I can feel your revoltion for me crawling just beneath your words. Need I bleed the truth from your lips, like a poison in need of purging?" He mused as he snatched a jack knife from his pocket and flicked it open with one easy motion as he brought the point to bear at her hanging breast.

"I've marked one whore today, I have no qualms over marking you as well. One push, a simple twist... It would be quite easy, I assure you."
 
Eric Drake

"No, now, you need attention for these wou..." He had been deaf to the sharp warning from another woman, but a push and blow across the back of his neck turned his attention to sharp focus upon her. He clenched his teeth and drew his lips into a thin line, stopping just short of a snarl himself as he reached up to rub at his neck.


"Mugging?" He shot back. "I was helping the bitch! Some other fucker cut her up, ya crasy slag, not me!" Eric remained leaning against the wall though, only his words were agressive. "Oh, come on..." He groaned, begining to laugh over the absurdity of the situation. "My best guess is that she's got some bastard boyfriend who likes beating on her, and she's so damned whipped she won't dare cross him, or turn his sorry ass in. Aint that right, you..." Eric was about to call her a bitch again, out of anger, but trailed off instead. The look in her eyes... Something about it...

Eric took a deep breath, shook his head and rubbed his neck some more, saying. "Look... I just wanted to get her to hospital. I don’t know her. I heard a scream and came to look. Happy?”

Eric closed his eyes for a second, letting out a scoffing half-laugh, shaking his head in exasperation. "By your leave..." Eric mocked as he pushed off the wall, comming to help carry the girl. "Are all brit chicks as bossy as you?" He asked as he picked the wounded woman up in his arms, without the other's help. He kept pace with her all the way back to her clinic.
 
Eric Drake.

Eric shrugged, bemused by this woman's attitude as well as her appearance. He thought to himself. "If only she knew..." As he followed behind her with an unconcious Chantelle in his arms.

Fasion was something that Eric had no use for, dressing up to look pretty was a peacocks game to his mind. He felt if you didn't have something inside you worth looking at, no amount cloths or make up were going to hide that simple fact. So it was a good thing, he thought that the woman leading the way had her cool fiestiness going for her, else he wouldn't have followed her out of the alley, let alone all the way to what was apparently her home.

"Oh yesum, right away Miss Daisy, right away." Eric jibed in response to the woman's instructions, trying to rile a reaction out of her, but she left without even a glance back.

In the few moments he was alone in her home, Eric laid Chantelle down on the couch and covered her with a blanket he found draped along the back of it. He crouched next to her and carefully pushed her hair aside to get a good look at her face. An odd notion crept through his mind and without thinking it over Eric found himself leaning close as if going for a kiss. But instead, he sniffed.
 
"You are lying to me, my dear. I can feel your revoltion for me crawling just beneath your words. Need I bleed the truth from your lips, like a poison in need of purging? I've marked one whore today, I have no qualms over marking you as well. One push, a simple twist... It would be quite easy, I assure you."

kayla screamed at the way HE had ripped her blouse away, leaving it in even worse tatters than it had been before. Then the knife against her bare breasts...cold metal making her shiver, her fear turning up a few degrees. she looked to HIS face, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. hr voice came out almost level, which she was secretly proud of...but she couldn't stop all of the quaver from coming through when she spoke.

"Yes, SIR, YOU'RE correct. If YOU want truth...i feel sick loking at YOU, even if YOU manage to dress nicely...like a wolf in sheep's clothing. YOU give me physical illness...revulsion...and absolute terror. And i chose to lie, to mislead YOU because..." kayla's head hung down, and her voice lowered with it. "Because of that terror; i knew YOU would be displeased with the truth, or the lie...but i fear YOU more angry, and wanted to say something...happier."
 
Chantelle couldn’t remember passing out but now that she was awake she quickly realized she had no idea where she was either! She gasped in shock and her eyes widened; taking in the two strangers surrounding her before the woman’s calming voice reached her ears.

“My name is Maxine, you are in my home, you are safe. How do you feel?”

She groaned in sudden pain, starting to remember what had occurred as she found her voice again, “Like someone cut me with a very sharp knife and it hurts!”

She slowly sat up and rubbed at her eyes, looking at her surroundings as if trying to decide if she truly was safe or not. She gripped the blanket tightly; who’d given that to her? She shook her head and tried to keep her modesty; thinking it amusing since Jackson had taken all innocence from her a long time ago.

“Who…sorry, who are you? Why are you even trying to help me? It’s not exactly a nice neighbourhood…” She murmured in question, going slightly red in the face with embarrassment at both her condition and her seemingly ungrateful nature.

She let out a grunt of agony as she tried to stand and felt all her muscles contract and spasm violently. It let her know that the pain wasn’t about to subside easily, she collapsed back and gave in to her condition.

“I ah, thank you both. I don’t suppose either of you grabbed my purse or shoes or anything?” She asked desperately, praying that Jackson hadn’t taken her handbag with him but she was having difficulty remembering much beyond the point of him slicing her open.
 
Jackson.

Kayla's scream put a sneering smile on Jackson's face as she looked up with tears in her eyes. Then she spoke, calmly at first, then a quaver snuck its way into her soft, sweet voice. What she said next was indeed the truth, as she saw it and it was anything but pleasing to Jackson. He listened patiently until she hung her head and lowered her voice.

He took Kayla by the chin and lifted her face up so that she was looking at him once more. "Thank you for the truth, my dear." He said softly, placing a light kiss upon her lips. "However." He began, as he drew his lips away from hers, his voice instantly going cold, edged like the blade of the knife he now rested against her cheek. "Since you say the sight of me sickens you so... Please, allow me to remedy what ails you. Look hard upon me, pet, this face is the last thing you shall ever see!"

Jackson gave Kayla only a moment to think on his words before he went to work on her eyes with the knife.
 
Eric Drake.

Eric turned with a start at the woman's shout. "I, nothing! I just thought..." He trailed off, not sure what he had been thinking, himself. "Wait." she said, wait for what, he wondered. Then she handed him a mask. He held it for a moment then scoffed and tossed it on the near by coffee table. "I don't need this." He grumbled as he stood up and stepped out of the way so that the woman could get to Chantelle. And STILL she pushed past him. He stood there, staring, only staring as she went to work on Chantelle.

"Isn't that just a fancy way of saying she fainted under stress?" Eric asked, folding his arms over his chest as he turned to watch the woman play with a microscope. She ignored him again and Eric lowered his head, grumbling to himself. Then she gasped saying. "Now this is very interesting." That drew Eric's attention and he looked up, curious.

Eric stiffened at the woman's words, he knew what it meant, but couldn't tell her, she wouldn't understand. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he followed her over to Chantelle's side. He leaned over the back of the couch and looked down as she cleaned her up and tried to rouse her.

Eric noticed that the cut on Chantelle's breast was shaped like the letter J. He pointed it out to the woman, who he only now learned was named Maxine. Chantelle gave her response and Eric asked. "Someone who? His name doesn't happen to start with a J, does it?"

"That's Maxine, she's got medical training, and my name is Drake, Eric Drake. I found you in the alley, and I tried to help you... But I know what you mean about this neighborhood. I got attacked by some crasy lady before I could do much more than give you my coat." Eric was trying to lighten the tension a little with a joke.

"Woah there..." Eric said as he steadied Chantelle back in the couch as she collapsed back down. Eric thought for a moment, but couldn't remember seeing any purse around her when he first found her. "Did you see anything, Max? I don't think I saw a purse..."
 
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Eric Drake.

Eric noticed Maxine's reaction to being called Max and couldn't help but grin. "So, there is a person in there after all." He thought to himself, feeling a small, dark sense of triumph that he had finally gotten under her skin, even if she didn't voice it. "Uh-huh, and is there anything missing? This guy that attacked, what was your name, babe? He might have stolen something..." He asked Chantelle.

When Maxine mentioned having a security system, Eric looked around wondering what she had. Alarms and laser detection? Maxine put her hand out to him then and greeted him, drawing his attention back upon her. He listened to her before flashing an almost mischevious grin. "No hard feelins, Max." He made a point of calling her that, knowing she disliked it, wondering how long it would be before she 'corrected' him. "Sure, I'll stay, its like a fancy hotel here, and I do want to make sure she's going to be alright."

He stopped to listen to Maxine some more as she explained her clinic. "Thats it? You're looking for the secrets of long life? But you don't want to do anything with it? Why? No offence, but that seems kind of pointless to me. Me though, I'd rather have a life well lived than a long one, that's bound to get boring, don't you think? Who wants to live forever?" Eric fell silent again for a moment as he pondered her work involving blood.

"And you think it has something to do with blood? Makes sense though, it keeps you warm, gets you hard, races when you're excited, and runs cold when you're scared..."
 
Eric Drake.

"Oh, so you're looking into regeneration? Thats noble, I guess. Hey, you're not secretly making a race of lizard people in the basement or anything are you?" He was smiling dismissively, as if to say he didn't think she would ever find what she was looking for. "Not in normal people at least." He thought to himself, his eyes drifting over to Chantelle where she sat.

"Staff? You have a staff? They're not going to karate chop me to, are they?" He jokingly rubbed the back of his neck where Maxine had struck him when she looked back at him. "Sure, I can't wait." Eric said as he dropped his arms back to his sides. At the mention of Chantelle's safety, Eric's eyes flashed with a look that was something less than civilized. For a brief moment, he looked like a caged animal ready to go on the hunt.
 
Chantelle looked down at her torn up breast and gasped softly at the ‘J’ shape cut into it, Maxine had cleaned up enough of the blood to enable her to see the actual wound now. She felt a tear slide from her eye and she scowled a little. She listened to the pair converse and all she could think was; old married couple or sibling rivalry! They’d just met and that was how they sounded to her.

She nodded at Maxine’s explanations and flinched slightly at the sight of the needle, not another sharp implement. She sighed gratefully to hear that she wouldn’t need stitches but Maxine’s observations were making her somewhat uncomfortable. She was relieved to hear Jackson hadn’t taken her purse but she remembered his command and shuddered. If I don’t go… No, she didn’t want to imagine what he’d do to her if she didn’t go.

She looked up as Maxine mentioned her messy attire and she grimaced, pulling the blanket tightly around her again. She nodded and stood up shakily, the entire affair had taken more than its toll. Chantelle looked to the window to see that the sun had already risen and she bit her lip nervously, how would she explain her need to leave when the time came?

“I’m ah Chantelle by the way, Chantelle Brannigan. Thank you…both of you, I’d really like to get cleaned up though.” The smell of the dried blood in her hair was making her a little nauseous and she swayed uneasily on her feet.
 
Eric Drake.

Eric nodded with a grin as Maxine actually laughed at his joke. Maybe he really had gotten a bad first impression of her. He wondered if she might feel the same about him, now that he'd gotten a chuckle out of her. Eric relaxed his posture a little bit, no longer feeling quite so on the defensive, and glanced back toward Chantelle as she gasped and a single tear ran down her cheek. "Brannigan, thats irish isn't it?" Eric asked before Maxine led her away to the bathroom.

Standing by himself, Eric shrugged with a sigh and looked around. He noticed several framed certificates and awards hung high up along the walls. There was a medical degree, a certificate for the martial arts training he'd already felt once today, an award for equestrianism, even a ribbon for archery. After making a complete circuit around the room and being duly impressed, he took to leaning againts the wall, by her desk, just under her certificate declaring her a first degree black belt, next to her desk.

Maxine returned and he noticed the look of suspicion in her eyes. He tilted his head and gave her a curious glance, wondering what she thought he'd been up to. "Sure." He said simply as he pushed off the wall, following her across the hall. "She's... Alright then? I mean, physically?" He asked, taking a seat in one of the sofa's she motioned to, oblivious to the finery of her home/clinic. The subtle scent of burning pine caught his attention though, and he looked into the flames for a moment, the flickering light showing in his eyes. "She's protecting that scumbag, Jay, something..." He said in a low voice, his lips curled back to show a row of perfectly white teeth in a brief sneer.

For a moment he didn't respond to Maxine's question, the reflection from the fire place not the only one burning in his eyes. He blinked, shook his head then looked up, as if he had only just heard her. "Tequila, if you have any, straight, no ice."
 
Kayla

“Look hard upon me, pet, this face is the last thing you shall ever see!"

A shaft of pure fear went through her at HIS words. As HE reached for her face she shrank back whimpering and pleading, to no avail.
Then a wall of agony blasted her, searing heat ……. indescribable pain, robbing her of breath as she heard her right eyeball pop under the pressure from the tip of the blade and through the darkness that was the vision in that eye, felt the fluid start to run down her cheek and drip off her chin onto to her breast.
She screamed and screamed then, releasing the blood curdling sound of tormented animal caught in a trap; knowing as she did so it would not bring anyone running but unable to keep the sound in. She flinched away from Jackson, pleading inarticulately, as she felt the tip of the knife blade brush her neck as HE stroked her with it, teasingly torturing her. She was brought back against HIM violently as HE grasped the metal rings holding her wrists.
HE wrapped the chain of the handcuffs around his hand and held her wrists against the pole.
“Stop screaming, now,” HE snarled. She heard the menace vibrating in HIS voice and somehow the terror it made her feel overcame the excruciating pain she was feeling.

Gently HE pushed back the hair on her forehead and just as she was beginning think HE was granting her a reprieve he ran the knife point down across her left eyebrow. The vision in her left eye disappeared in another white hot wave of agony and she was unable to stop uttering another throat tearing scream.

Totally in the dark now she screamed and screamed. The second searing laceration partially liberated her from the terror that had paralysed her; she pulled away abruptly from Jackson. The pain lent her strength and for a moment she thought she was free, a hope cruelly dashed as the chain extended to its full length and she was suddenly and painful brought to a halt. The metal cuffs cut into her wrists and caused the already chafed skin to split and ooze blood.

Kayla sank to her knees and totally overwhelmed by pain, mercifully lost consciousness as her body fell backward. Supported by the cuffs, attaching her arms to the black iron pole, her head and torso hung down and there she swung gently.
 
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Eric Drake.

Eric noticed the look Maxine gave him, taking it as disaproval. He felt like saying for a tea totaler, she sure did keep her cupboards well stocked. It wasn't worth it, he decided as he took the glass and drank a sip. She'd already moved on to answer his question. "Her mental state..." He took another sip before continuing. "Is fucked. You can hear it in her voice, can't you? See it in her eyes. The moment she leaves here, the first thing she's gonna do is go BACK to that fuck and let him do it all over again. I've seen it all before, around the club. She doesn't think she has a choice, if she doesn't go, it will be worse for her, when he comes to her..."

Eric's jaw was flexing, the internal fire in his eyes growing as he talked. "Why wait, I ask, why wait for him to 'snap his fingers'?" Eric's leg began to bounce with agitation. "If only we could get her to tell us..." Eric took another drink. "Where this guy lives..." Another drink. "I'd pay the man a visit."

Maxine had just added fuel to the fire, in more ways than she knew. She was so calm, that just agitated Eric more. He caught himself and closed his eyes, taking a calming breath before he looked back at her. The anger he felt passed from him as he did. He still wanted to go after the man who had cut up Chantelle. Not with the burning anger of the moment, but with the cold dispassion of a veterinarian putting a savage dog down.

Eric stared at Maxine as she seemed to look through him, apparently lost in thought. Slumping back in the couch, Eric shrugged. "Never said I know the guy, just his type. And trust me, YOU are definately not HIS type. You're far too strong willed and self confident to fall prey to a man like him." Leaning forward, Eric leveled with her. "Look, he's a collector, the kind of man, if you could call him that, who looks for women he can treat like cattle. Thats why I think he cut that J into Chantelle. He was fucking branding her as HIS."
 
Jackson

After several moments Jackson rose from where he had taken to sitting, rested against the wall, collecting Kayla's limp unconcious form in his arms. He was careful not to get any of her blood upon his cloths as he undid the cuffs that had bitten into her wrists from her struggles.

He took her up the steps to his bed and laid her out upon it. He lifted Kayla's hand in his own, retrieving a crisp white hankerchief from the breast pocket of his dress coat. Gently, and with loving tenderness he wiped away the blood from one bruised and torn wrist, then the other. Then he moved to clense the sticky, drying blood from her face. His breath was uneven and his voice shook with real feeling as he whispered "Blessed are the blind, for only they truly see..."
 
Chantelle was glad of the support from Maxine as she led her to the bathroom because Chantelle wasn’t sure she’d have made it otherwise. She searched the room with her eyes and nodded as Maxine explained and described the workings of the bath along with the location of towels and so forth. She murmured her thanks and waited until she left before Chantelle slumped down on the bench and held her head in her hands.

“I begged you…why did you do this? How am I ever going to leave here without suspicion now?!” She murmured and groaned softly as she stood up and peeled the ruined dress from her body, leaving the blanket to rest on the bench.

She pressed the button on the remote to stop the water flow and stepped into the tub carefully. Chantelle lowered herself into the warm water with great care, wincing at the pain in her breast as she curved into position. She’d no idea how she’d survive the next night without Jackson doing her some severe and painful damage. She allowed the water to envelop her and took up a sponge, she wet it and dabbed the dried blood from her skin as much as possible.

“Well I’ll be damned…” She whispered as she saw the cut properly, it was indeed healing quickly and scarring over.

She sunk further into the bath until her hair was wet, the water turning a shade of pink as the dried blood was absorbed into it from her hair and skin. She sat up again and took up some shampoo, deciding to wash her hair or the blonde locks would be as pink as the water around her. She lathered up her hair and considered the next evening with concern for herself.

Jackson was more forgiving in public; to go to his home would mean a certain amount of prolonged agony, he would not pardon her for disappearing on him for a month so easily. She sighed softly and dipped her head to rinse her hair out at last before she stepped from the bath and pulled the plug out, draining the cherry coloured water. She went to the cupboard Maxine had indicated earlier and took a nice fluffy white towel from it, she dabbed to dry her wound and skin before she wrapped it around her wet tresses.

She wandered into the adjoining room and found an oversized shirt and sweatpants, she shrugged and slipped both on, she was thankful in that moment that Jackson had not gone after the lower parts of her anatomy and her g string was still intact. She pulled the towel from her head and roughed her hair up a little to dry it properly before she put the towel in a hamper she found in the bathroom. She went to the mirror and smoothed her hair out as much as possible, once she was at least satisfied with her appearance; Chantelle decided to step out and find the pair that had saved her from bleeding out or having some other less than scrupulous person stumble across her in the sorry state Jackson had left her.
 
Eric Drake.

Eric's brow rose and he began to smirk as Maxine made her suggestion. "Beating him up was only the fun part of my plan." Eric muttered in a low voice before letting out a sigh and finishing his drink, thinking about what she had said. "If you're offering, I'm accepting." He said as he held the glass out to her. "What are you drinking? Maybe I could try some of it?" He asked.

"Wait... Me? But..." Eric wrinkled his nose up at the suggestion of going to Chantelle's assailant and proposing a barter for her. "I don't think I could do that... And besides, I don't have the kind of money it would take to... Buy... Someone like her... From a guy like him." It was clear in his voice that he had a real problem with the concept of buying and selling people.
 
Jackson.

Jackson stayed at Kayla's side well after he had stopped her bleeding by bandaging her wrists and putting a cloth compress over her sundered eyes. He kept repeaing his little 'blessing' in a soothing, whispery voice, over her.

He smiled to himself as Kayla's shivering tremors subsided and she seemed to doze off into a light slumber. She had been something of an unexpected find, having bumped into him, on the run from some lecherous old man. Jackson had taken her in and fed her as if she were some skittish lost kitten. Offering her a bath and a bed all to herself for the night.

*Flashback.*

He explained that he was a man of significant influence and would see to the matter of this professor's ill treatment of her. The next day Jackson woke her with a gentle hand and offered her an enticing breakfast. Then he turned on an old black and white television. The top news story of the morning was about her professor.

He had gone missing, apparently taking all his posessions with him, save for a single black leather bound journal. To everyone's shock and disgust it was a detailed account of nearly thirty years of his underground sex trade. There were several pages missing, torn from the book.

Jackson had been standing next to the television until the report ended. He shut it off and produced the missing pages and tossed them to Kayla. "Your shame is no more." he said simply.

*End of flashback.*

Jackson was still reciting his chant as he brushed back the hair from Kayla's brow and kissed her gently there.
 
Eric Drake.

"Really? What was your first clue?" Eric said sardonically in response. "And the last thing it would have been if I'd gone to pay him a visit, is pretty." Eric shrugged as he took the glass Maxine offered him. "Aren't you going to have another?" He asked as he swirled the drink around, sniffing it.

Eric listened to her speak, in brooding silence as he hovered over his drink. She paused for a moment, as if waiting for him to speak. He got the impression that she was probing for his reaction to her proclamation of wealth. A hard stare, a sniff, and a sip of his drink was all he gave her in response.

The suggestion of offering her to "J" in Chantelle's place brought a slight smirk to Eric's lips. "Oh, I don't doubt that one bit. You'd probably having him tied up like a pretzel before I could even bust through the door." Eric mused as he rubbed the base of his neck, remembering the chop she'd given him little more than an hour ago. "You're not admitting to the need of a man to come rescue you though, are you?"

Motion caught Eric's eye from down the hall and he looked up. Chantelle was comming. He gave Maxine a quick nodd in that direction so that she knew he could not answer her, for the sake of their little 'secret'.
 
Jackson.

"Hush, my pet, you are safe now, here, under my protection." Jackson whispered in Kayla's ear as he stroked her cheek down to her chin. Although his breath was warm, it did nothing but make her shiver. His strong, firm hand lifted her chin so that her face was turned up to meet his in a posessive kiss, there was the taste of copper and salt upon his tongue as he forced it between her quivering lips. "Now, tell me, what do you see?" He hissed excitedly as he drew back, removing the compress from her face, staring into the sundered remnants of her eyes.
 
Chantelle made her way out slowly and cautiously as she heard their murmurings and easily found the room, whispers of conversation reached her ears but she found it rather disorienting and confusing without the words in between what reached her.

She bit her lip and stepped in, clearing her throat and blushing somewhat as she gathered they’d been talking about her and by the looks of the dead silence; she’d been right. Chantelle couldn’t really blame them for being so curious and talking about her or whatever but it didn’t stop the slight anger that wormed its way up deep inside her chest.

She swallowed her feelings and spoke nervously, “I uh, hope this is alright, it’s a little big but at least I have something to wear. Gonna have to chuck that dress out I guess.” She sighed deeply at the loss to her wardrobe and once again her eyes found the clock, she was running short on time and she’d need to take care of a few things before she turned herself over to Jackson’s torture chamber.

“Look I’m really grateful but I feel fine and I really need to get myself home…so ah could one of you maybe give me a ride? I’m not really sure where I am…” She finished in a mumble, blushing furiously as she’d almost forgotten she’d passed out on the way here so she didn’t know how to get back.
 
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