The Collector: A Reimagining

I come to my knees beside the tub and take the bar of soap in my hands, I wet it in the tub and gently peel away her arm from around her knees and lather her arm in suds. I bathe her limb by limb in the escalating silence articulated by the soft splash of water. I try to take stock of every mole, freckle, sunspot. I try to memorise the way her skin creases at her elbows, the angle her shoulders slope from her neck, the way her belly folds when she sits. I'm hungry for every detail that I can hold onto but I'm constantly finding the recollections of my recent memory inadequate to her glory. I take note of how her body responds to my touch; the way she trembles slightly when I touch her inner thigh, how goosebumps appear on her skin when I caress her waist and how her breath hitches when I graze the top of her pubic mound. I make my way to her feet and toes and she breaks the silence with a small squeak. I smile at her.

'No ones ever really touched my feet before.'

'Well I guess lots of people wouldn't. Most people think feet are gross and dirty. Which is usually true I suppose.'

I take her rinsed foot in my hands, lean in and take her big toe into my mouth.

'Fred n-OH!'

She sucks in a sudden breath as my tongue runs along the webbing of her toe. I move to the next and the next, massaging her instep before replacing it with my tongue once I've attended to each toe. She twitches and jerks deliciously when I move onto her next foot, melting deeper into the water.

When I move to kiss her cheek, her arms launch out of the water around my neck and she turns to meet my lips. She pulls me to her and I return her kiss greedily, wrapping my arms around her ignoring the water. Our mouths move together, devouring one another until we part, breathless and dazed.

'Thank you for showing me the house. And the bath.'

'Do I get another thank you kiss when I take you back through the house to your room?'

She rolls her eyes.

'There's one more room you haven't seen.'

'You're going to show me your bedroom?'

'Why not?'

'I guess it just seems like a personal thing.'

'I suppose it is.'

She rises from the tub slowly when I approach her with a towel, her body glistens, the water running over her skin and catching the light. I was going to dry her myself anyway but I notice she never reached for the towel and the thought echoes in my mind again and again. I slip her dress back over her once she's dry and she leans over to pull out the plug.

'I always like watching the water go down the drain for some reason. And the weird noises.'

'I don't remember it but my aunt told me I used to imitate the noises so now whenever I hear it I can't help but have the urge.'

As if on queue the water being sucked down the drain emits a high pitched gurgling sound. She raises her brows.

'Well?'

'I'm not doing it now!'

'Why not?'

'You're here!'

'Ah... Performance issues...'

Before I can think of a response she makes a loud, crazy, burbling, sucking sound and then looks at me deadpan. It was my turn to raise my brows.

She bursts out laughing, a deep belly kind of cackle that folds her in half and I can't help but laugh too.

'And who says I'm the psycho.'

I direct her into my room at which point she takes the lead again, wondering around at her own pace. Her fingertips brush over a family photo towards the back behind other bits and bobs on my chest of drawers. She points to the young boy in the photo.

'Is that you?'

'Yes.' She points again.

'Your aunty?'

'Yes, and my uncle.'

'What were they like?'

'Well that was the last photo I have of my uncle before he died. I was 15 at the time but he was as good as a father to me. I came to them when I was two. My dad was killed drink driving apparently. Mum left me with Aunty Annie not long after that. Annie was good to me. Motherly but... she wasn't my mother.'

'What do you mean by that? You thought of your uncle like your father but not your aunt like your mother?'

'No one's ever asked me that.'

She looks at me, still expectant.

'I suppose... the difference was that Rick... my uncle... well he was engaged. My Aunty just provided for me. Don't get me wrong I have every respect for her. I guess I needed more than food and a home though which sounds ungrateful but I swear I'm not...'

She's silent for a while and just continues to look through my things.

'I think I could understand that. It's funny. It kind of sounds like my mum actually. But sad as well, I can tell she kind of wants to be more engaged, to be close to me, but doesn't know how.'

She glances at me then returns to inspecting my belongings.

All this time I had always thought I would never have piqued her interest under normal circumstances but here she was sharing herself with me. It always had seemed so impossible to have caught her attention. She had seemed so untouchable, unattainable, out of reach. But now having her not only in my reach... Overcome by my overwhelming arousal for her in this moment I found my body out of my control. I approach from behind her, arm outstretched ready to wrap my hand around her waist and bring her to me all the faster. The sharp gasp that escapes her lips makes my cock throb and with her ass against it, I hope she felt it. I bury my face into her hair, smothering my face in her aroma, her scent. The feel of her hips in my grip, grinding her perfect ass into me, was sending me into a frenzy. I could hear her panting into my ear while I frantically ravished her neck and when I slide my hand down to rub her pussy her hips jerk back into my hard dick and I groan deeply. I could feel the heat of her cunt even through her clothes. 'Good,' I thought, I needed her to feel how much I needed her. But when she exclaims 'Fred!', in the most tortured mewl my body freezes. It feels like time slows and suddenly I'm aware of her hand gripping onto me, pulling me against her. She was pulling me closer.

I release my grip on her and step back.

I was plagued by a wave of paranoid anxiety. This couldn't be real. It was too good to be true. There silence solidified the space between us and I felt distant from her again. She slowly turned to me, her face tight and with those eyes I couldn't seem to understand before but now became clear to me. In barely a whisper she says, 'take me to my room, please'. I lead her back downstairs but when I step off the stairs I realise I have forgotten something and as I turn around, I see her face. I know she's made the same realisation. Her eyes dart to the door and she springs to action, bolting to the door. I catch her easily, wrestling her to the floor without considerable effort but she wasn't far off. No, far too close a call.

'Fred, please! You have to let me go! Please, you must!'

It had indeed been too good to be true. I picked her up off the ground and walked her in hand silently to her room. When I open the door, she hesitates and I frown at her then gently push her in.

The look in her eyes has been fear.

--

This was so stupid.

I refuse to feel guilty for accidentally hurting my kidnappers feelings. He had to understand why I would try to escape just like the first pitiful time. But there was no denying the terrible sinking feeling in my gut. I throw myself onto the bed and think about what had transpired but recoiled from the memories of his mouth on mine, how he pulled me against him and then his rough capture. It was too... confusing to think about the electric feeling of his hot breath on my skin, his soft, wet tongue along my... No, I had to just forget it all but it felt impossible. I was terrified of how easily he could take control of my body, enslave me with that pleasure.

After what feels like an age, I write myself into exhaustion. There was fevered writing about the effect he had on my body, then I went on to have a very panicked, vigorous discussion about any blame or guilt in the situation regarding his apparent hurt feelings. This was followed by some vague psychoanalysis of Fred and then me. What normal person kisses their kidnapper? I felt insane even compared to a kidnapper. It made the urge to escape all the more heightened and I fall asleep failing again and again to think of a way out, only to be disturbed by dreams of his fingers and tongue buried in my cunt.

The next day while I busy myself I notice he has left food and a large bottle beside the door. Guilt washed over me again. Even the kidnapper doesn't want me, ha! I try to take the cosmic joke in stride and continue with my day as usual. But no matter how much I write or draw or try to empty my mind with my butt sky high in downward dog, I'm agitated by wondering what he was thinking, how upset he seemed, when he would come to see me, if he would be... different to me. And at the end of the day I lay in bed, unable to sleep, tormented by the memory of how he made my body feel like every nerve was on fire with need. Even when I sleep, I dream of him again, his voice crooning in my ear, his insistent touch, his deft tongue...

First thing the next morning I peep beside the door to find another large bottle and food enough for the day. It was the same the next couple days and while it felt like solitary confinement, I tried to find the silver linings. I was left alone, which was the best thing short of him letting me go entirely. Right?

I continued to write to take the load off my mind but unlike other times, my thoughts did not feel tempered by this. I couldn't rid myself of the guilt and shame at how I responded to his touch and it made me resent him all the more. But what I resented him for most of all was that he was right, despite everything he made me feel unbelievable and wasn't hindered by him being my captor. It made me agonise over what might have been if he had just approached me normally. But we'll never know now I guess. The days pass and I write, draw, struggle through restless, unfulfilling sleep and dreams of him. I start to wonder if he'll just kill me or leave me somewhere to die. Perhaps I had finally extinguished his obsession with my attempt to escape. For some reason, this thought scared me.

I was in another cycle of drifting almost to sleep only to be jerked back awake by dreams of him. This time I imagined what might have happened if the incident in his room had escalated. How his hands gripping my hips might have spun me round to face him and kiss me deeply like we had in the bath. How he would undress me and playfully bite and nibble my neck, nipples, thighs. I imagined him making me ask him for his cock, rubbing his head over my clit while I struggled to get the words out. He would continue teasing my entrance even after I had finally managed to beg him just so he could show me how messy I was. He would praise me on how well my pussy begged as well before finally thrusting his cock inside me. I imagined that delicious friction of his dick inside me, rubbing me in the most maddening way. I could almost hear the way he made the bed creak and the knick knacks on his drawers shudder until I realised there had been a disturbance in the room.

I sit up, coated in a light sweat, painfully aware of the throbbing between my legs. Even in the darkness I can make out the shape of him in my room. He must have been taking yesterdays things.

'Go back to sleep.'

He sounded worn out.

'I can't sleep.'

I think I hear him mumble something like 'join the club'. I want to ask him why he hasn't come to see me, to tell him he couldn't possibly be upset with me, but I couldn't. The silence stretched on and neither of us moved.

'Come here.'

He doesn't move immediately and I think that maybe he might ignore me and just leave. But then he approaches the bed and I pull back the covers. Again, he hesitates but then climbs in beside me. I adjust and settle back in and my foot touches him but I don't move it away. We lay like that in silence, side by side, barely touching. My thoughts keep making their way back to the dream I had woken up from. I start to wonder if he's fallen asleep until he rolls to his side, facing me, and I feel his fingertips graze my forearm as he seeks me out and rests his hand on me. He brushes his thumb slowly, back and forth along my skin and it's the first time in days my mind is emptied, free from rushing thoughts and discomfort. I roll to face him too keeping my forearm in his reach and he does not stop his soft touches. I wish I could see his expression, make out his face in the darkness for a clue as to what he was thinking, feeling. In the anonymity of the shadow, I think I forget myself and I reach out to touch him. My fingers meet his clavicle, I follow the curve of his neck upwards to the side of his throat and I feel him swallow hard. I continue onto his jaw, cupping his face before running my hand through his hair, then touching his forehead, his eyebrows, the bridge of his nose and his lips. My heart feels loud in my ears and it's like I can feel my blood hot beneath my skin. His hand moves from my forearm and he moves closer to me, I think he's going to kiss me but he just wraps his arms around me gently and he holds me, our noses and foreheads touching, lips close enough to feel the heat of each others breath. I'm acutely aware of the realisation that he was shirtless and that my nightie had ridden up in places. Our legs tangled together, bare skin to skin emphasising where that contact was impeded by thin cotton, I could feel his hardening cock against me.

His hands pull me gently closer, tighter, and then he moves over me, never letting our bodies part. His pelvis rubs against me and I can feel my excitement mounting. He tilts his head to the side into my neck and I don't think he means for me to hear him but in the softest breath that I struggled to catch, he whispers, 'let me in'. I guide his face back to mine again and kiss him tentatively but he recoils. He hovers over me, hard cock still pressed against me, and I think that he might just stop, leave. But then his mouth returns to me in a kiss equally as soft which grows deeper, hungry, with tongues synchronising to rub against another and then dancing apart. His hand comes to my breast, a thumb rubbing over a hard nipple while he continued to grind into me. I feel like my body is melting and I surrender to the pleasure.

My hands come to his hips, cautiously tugging at his underwear bit by bit to gauge his reaction and it thrills me when he moans as I pull him against me by his ass. He drifts back as if to give me an opportunity to free his cock and I take it. I slip my undies to the side impatiently and rub his cock against me like in my dream and I whimper as I slide his cock between my slick folds.

'Mmm Miranda, oh god. Oh my clever, pretty girl.'

In that moment I forsook the embarrassment and shame I had inflicted upon myself for the past days, I abandoned myself to the rapture of his intense desire, opened myself to his obsession and slipped his cock inside me with a wanton moan.

'Oh fuck, oh god! You feel incredible.'

I wrap my legs around him and meet his deep thrusts, hands gripping his hair, back, hips, anything to make sure he would not stop. He pumps into me over and over, building me towards my climax when I think I'm already going to explode. He kisses me again and again, giving attention to my neck and jaw but always returning to steal my moans with his mouth.

'Fred...'

I don't know what I mean to say because I can't focus on anything but his delicious cock.

'Mmm?'

'Fred...oh...mmmm. Fred ah! Oh, please!'

'Okay, honey. Okay, okay.'

'Please! Mmm ohhh god!'

'Okay, my girl. Oh fuck!'

He quickens his pace just slightly and I don't know how he knows it's just what I didn't know I was begging for. I'm crazy with the need to come undone around his cock, to have him feeling me orgasm on his dick.

'You feel too fucking good... my girl... mine... you're mine... my girl...you belong to me...'

He rams into me while repeating it like a mantra, surrounding me in his frenzied passion. His possessive words filling my head while his cock filled me was my undoing. I can feel my pussy clenching tight as my whole body seizes while the orgasm rolls over me intensely. He fucks me through my orgasm and he comes also, groaning deeply as he thrusts his come inside me. Sweaty and loose limbed, I can't help but start drifting off almost immediately and the last thing I remember is his lips against my temple murmuring 'I love you'.

--

I was disgusted with my weakness but I had to be honest, I don't think there was anything in the world that would have made that any less...oh my god. I had spent days admonishing myself for not seeing how easily she had manipulated me with just some conversation and a kiss but when she called me to her I could not resist. My moment of weakness had me fully succumbing to her. Her fear of me had driven her to debase herself and play me for a fool along the way. And it was no ones fault but my own. Yet still I could not resist her. Nothing had gone to plan. It felt as if I had grown ever deeper into the grips of my obsession and she was now more distant than ever.

She had wilted in my arms and started to drift almost immediately and I was tempted to allow myself to do the same. I gave myself a final few moments and then slipped out from the comfort of her and returned upstairs to make preparations.

Part 2 to come.