The Light Between the Trees Ch. 06

Author's note: Traumatised by being held hostage in the cafe siege, Chloe has chosen a new direction in her life. She gives up her steady boyfriend and stable job to seek out new thrills in risky encounters. Covalent has laid out his plans to make her disappear and Chloe finds herself spiraling deeper and deeper into his fantasy of total control.

The story contains themes of female submission, edge play and autassassinophilia. Discretion is advised: please check the story tags to see whether this a series you'll enjoy.]

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VANISHED

The heat is prickly, and I'm perspiring in the sun by the time I get to the edge of the lake, my little black summer dress sticking to me. I stand on the edge of the water and look out. What am I doing? Once upon a time I had all my shit together. I had a good boyfriend, a job that paid well, friends and family to spend time with, a nice apartment. I had assets, I had plans, I had a future.

Now I'm barefoot on a little track that leads off to somewhere, maybe, followed by a man I met in a chat room, probably, to become his plaything for the weekend, definitely. I know next to nothing about him; I have no idea what he's planning or what he's capable of. All I know is that he wants to make me disappear. I believe it's just a fantasy that he has and we're acting it out, but it could equally be a statement of intent. I have come to realise that it doesn't matter to me. After the siege, after having a gun in my mouth, having to cope with all of that, being erased by a stranger could be a relief. I'm aware how messed up that makes me sound.

How the fuck did my life turn in this direction? No boyfriend anymore, no nice apartment, my job hanging by a thread, not able to talk about any of this to anyone, standing in a remote spot, barefoot in a cotton dress having just thrown my phone and any chance of reconnecting with my life away. I'm isolated and fearful and for reasons that I don't understand, so utterly turned on. I can see the roof of a structure along the edge of the lake, pressed between tall bushes. I begin to walk in that direction.

It's like I'm on remote control, my feet following Covenant's instructions. When I get to the boathouse, I see to my dismay that it's derelict, with a demolition notice nailed to the side. The door, however, is open. There are the remains of a padlock on the ground, cut off, and I know he's going to be in there, waiting to take possession of me. At this point, I'm still free, I can still get away. Or can I? How fast can I run over uneven ground, barefoot? Was that why he told me to ditch my shoes, to make it impossible for me to outpace him?

I have to accept that the point of no return isn't going through the door in front of me, it was getting off the bus in the first place. I'm already over the edge of the event horizon, already spiralling inescapably into the heart of the black hole. I'm completely screwed. If he wants to dispose of me, he can. There are no witnesses. Even if I scream, there's no-one else for miles around.

I approach the door carefully. I have a metallic taste in my mouth and my pulse is hammering in my throat. I really don't want to do this, but it's like I have no choice. I agreed to give myself to Covenant for the weekend. He decides what happens next.

I push the door open and it creaks loudly, making me jump. Inside, the dusty wooden floor is bare except for an old table and two chairs. The wooden walls are battered, loose slats letting daylight in. I look behind me quickly, gripped by a sudden fear that he's following me and I'm about to be pushed inside, but the path is empty. Aside from the gentle lapping of the water, there is no sound. My body is screaming at me to get the fuck away from here, but I step forward, crossing the threshold into the gloom.

I take two more steps, and then the door closes behind me with a thud and I jump. Covalent is standing there, a roll of duct tape in his hands. He peels a length off and bites into it to separate it from the roll, advancing on me. I hold up my hands to ward him off, stepping backwards until I feel my bottom smack into the table.

"Wait," I stammer, "Hold it."

He's quick, grasping my jaw firmly with one hand as he presses the length of tape against my lips, sealing my mouth. The he surprises me by stepping back and smiling. I touch the edges of the tape with my fingers, exploring what he's done to me. My eyes are wide in shock.

"Ah ah," he chides, "No peeling it off, or I'll have to tape your hands as well."

My hands freeze. Fuck. I need my hands.

"Your face is priceless," he laughs.

Covalent reaches out and strokes my cheek. His touch is gentle.

"If you had any doubts about this, you should have never gotten off that bus, Raven. It's too late to run now."

His thumb brushes over the tape.

"I love seeing you like this. You're just so perfect."

Perfect for what? What's he going to do with me, now he's lured me here?

"I never thought I would ever find anyone who wanted me to do this to them. I've looked, believe me. You're the first to ever come this far on the journey. I need you to know just how thankful I am to have found you."

His fingertips trace down my throat, settling on the collar of my dress.

"Have you been following my instructions, Raven? I'm very particular on this."

I nod, though I don't know which instructions he means.

"Good. Why don't you show me? Strip."

I grunt. It's all I can do, gagged by the tape. Covalent nods, as if in sympathy with my predicament.

"You won't need the dress anymore. You're done with being in public."

My body is frozen, immovable. Anymore? Like my phone and my shoes? I stare into his eyes. I need to ask him if this is still just a fantasy, or whether this is it. I'm not ready, I didn't come here to....

He begins to unbutton my dress, opening it wider and wider. The button below my waist is still undone, and he notices it with a smile. I'm trembling now, and he can feel it as his hands drift down my body, exposing myself to him. He undoes the bottom button and teases the fabric aside, revealing my nakedness to him. He pushes the dress back over my shoulders and I feel the cotton slipping down, cascading into a heap on the table that I'm backed into. I try and hold his gaze as his eyes travel over my skin.

He notices my swollen nipples first, then his eyes drift down to the space between my legs, to where my labia glisten beneath the neat triangle of my hair. Involuntarily, I look down at myself, following his gaze. My lips are puffy and reddened, gleaming with arousal. There is a trickle of dampness running from the bottom of my lips and a little way down my inner thigh. He gathers it with his finger, raising it to his mouth and tasting my juices.

"Would you like to sit? It's been quite a journey for you, hasn't it?"

The offer is unexpected, but before I can react, he turns his back to me and strides to the front of the shed, sliding back a lock and opening the large double doors. Sunlight streams in, sparkling off the water, sending cascades of rippling motes of light dancing across the roof of the boathouse. It's beautiful.

I sit, waiting for him. Covalent takes the other seat, heaving a large backpack onto the table. I eye it warily.

"Supplies."

I watch mutely as he begins to unpack. There's food, and I notice a large container of water on the ground where he'd picked the pack up from. There's a little camping stove and foldable pans, a chopping board, a camping light. The normality of it all begins to calm me, and even though I'm gagged and naked, I start to relax a little.

Covalent digs deeper into his pack. He dumps a substantial coil of bright blue nylon rope on the table, and what appears to be a large black plastic bag, rolled up tightly. The next thing he retrieves is a long hunting knife. I eye it with apprehension, but he doesn't comment. Then he pulls out a toilet bag, setting it to one side. I haven't seen any clothes yet. The last thing is a camping mat.

Covalent gets up from his chair and peels off another length of duct tape.

"Hands behind the chair, please."

I hesitate, staring up at him.

"Raven, hands behind the chair," he repeats, more firmly, "Now."

When I don't comply, he takes my arm and positions it behind my back. When he releases me, I keep my arm where he put it. I don't know why, but I don't resist him as he wraps a length of tape around each of my wrists and the chair back, securing me. Then he kneels down, pushing my knees apart and peeling off more tape. He winds the tape around one ankle and then the other, until I'm bound securely to the chair legs.

"There. Now, here's the rule. You aren't allowed to speak. You can answer a question I ask with a straight yes or no, nothing else. You can also use your safeword. Anything else will lead to a reprimand. Okay?"

He's looking down at me, impassive, waiting for me to acquiesce. I'm painfully conscious of my nudity, spread wide in the chair, revealing everything to him. I have no right to clothing, and now I have no right to speak. I already have no right to my own orgasms, and I can feel the dampness leaking down my leg. I should be mortally afraid of the predicament I find myself in, but instead I'm more turned on than I can ever remember. I'm utterly in his power now: he can do whatever he likes to me. If this isn't just a fantasy, if this really is the end of me, then I no longer have any chance. My gaze flicks to the hunting knife on the table.

Covalent peels the tape away from my mouth carefully, and I wince at the way it hurts. He smooths over my exposed skin with his thumb and then waits. I stare silently up at him. He smiles.

"Good. Now, are you comfortable?"

"Yes."

"Do you have questions for me?"

"Yes."

It infuriates me that I don't have any greater freedom than this. I want to ask him so many things.

"Are you struggling with all this?"

"Yes."

He nods and I watch as he unzips his toilet bag to produce a razor and a little can of shaving foam. There's a little bowl on a shelf and he fills it with water from the container.

"Let's get this little job out of the way."

I gape at him, staring at the razor. My mouth moves but the look in his eyes tells me he's already prepared a punishment for me if I speak out of turn.

"Good, there. That's always hard, the first time. You're a fast learner."

He daubs some of the shaving foam onto his fingers and reaches down to my groin. I try to close my legs in protest, but my ankles are bound too tightly. I have no choice but to allow him to smother my crotch in foam. I find myself closing my eyes as he massages the foam into my pubic hair, brushing against my opening. He's teasing me, and I feel my body responding, building up the same denied feelings as I had on the bus. I gasp and he pulls away.

"I need to see you bare at all times."

He's talking about the future, about how he wants me to present myself. It's the only indication I have that he isn't intending to make me disappear right now.

I study the concentration on his face as he applies the razor to my crotch. He's delicate, each stroke revealing fresh pink skin beneath the hair. He works methodically, rinsing the blade, manipulating my labia to get all the errant hairs around my folds. When at last he's done, he washes the blade out in the little bowl thoroughly and wets his hand in the water.

His palm presses against my mons as he works in circular motions, washing the foam off me. I concentrate on his hand covering my slit, the friction of the heel of his palm bearing down on my clitoris. He's no longer cleaning me now, he's working me steadily up to the edge of orgasm. My eyes lock on his, needing to say something, anything, to him, but I know I'm forbidden. All I can do is let him have his way.

"That was the surprise for me, Raven, about you. How obedient you are already."

I want to tell him that I'm not, that I'm a hard-nosed bitch who is used to getting what she wants, but the more he grinds his palm against me, the more that I'm only thinking about feeling his control.

"When the time comes to abandon yourself to me, I'm going to make it absolutely beautiful for you. You don't need to be afraid. You're going to get everything you need in the end."

I want to ask him so many things: how he's planning to do it, and when it's going to happen, where. But I'm mute at his command. I groan, beginning to lose myself in the sensations of his hand in my pussy, teasing and caressing me after two weeks of aching neglect.

"You're going to be such a perfect victim."

I don't know why, but I imagine the plastic bag that I was carrying, only now it's empty in his hands. I imagine him sliding it over my head and then knotting it tightly against my throat as his fingers plunge inside me. I can feel my body responding already, approaching the crest of my orgasm just thinking about how he's going to dispose of me. I want to cum, I want to feel that bag pressed against my face, denying me air as I struggle vainly against my fate.

He removes his hand abruptly, and I moan loudly, twisting in the chair. My thoughts are muddled; all I know is that I need to climax, and that I'm so desperately close, and that he's denied me. When he holds up his juice-slickened hand to my face, I know what he wants me to do. My tongue emerges from between my lips and I begin to lap at his palm, tasting myself on his hand.

I've never done it before, and the taste is strange, but I have seen it over and over again in the clips that the Everything Engine has been finding for me. The system that I built, that I have complete mastery over, or so I thought, has conditioned me to lick my juices obediently off a stranger's hand. I feel a strange glow of satisfaction deep inside at being able to show Covalent my willingness, just like all the other girls I've been watching night after night.

His face is grave, studying me intently. He kneels down on the floor between my spread legs and parts me with his fingers. I'm not allowed to speak, but I don't think it would matter anyway. All I have is yes, no and my safeword: sunflower. I still can't believe I have a safeword, like I'm... I'm....

My thoughts evaporate as his finger slips into me, turning as he enters, brushing up against my front wall until he finds a particular spot and I squirm in feverish delight. He withdraws. His fingertip pushes my hood back, exposing my clitoris to his inspection. He takes it gently between thumb and finger, rolling me delicately. It's more than I can bear, the direct stimulation making me buck and my breath hiss through clenched teeth. He releases me, and his fingertips explore the grooves of my labia, working their way down to my perineum.

"Up."

I struggle to raise my hips, unsure of his intentions. He slides a hand underneath me, holding me a little way off the seat, enough for his finger to find its way to my rear entrance. I feel him press lightly, just there, and I clench. It sends little ripples of pleasure through me, so sensitive have I become to even his slightest touch.

"Relax."

"Sunflower," I blurt in a sudden panic.

Covalent smiles. "I just meant relax, Raven. I wasn't going any further than this. Do you still want me to stop, or will we put that down to mistaken intentions?"

His finger is still nestled between my cheeks, held there by my clenched buttocks. With an effort, I relax.

"Do you want me to continue?" he asks.

"Yes," I whisper.

He withdraws his hands and he lays them on my hips. I sink back down onto the wooden seat, letting his fingers explore my body. My pussy is still aching with the memory of his finger inside me, the heavenly delight of him teasing my g-spot. I feel his touch on the newly bare skin between my legs and I squirm at the exquisite sensitivity. I've never been bare before: it's electrifying.

He cups my modest breasts in his palms, exploring each aureole with his thumbs, before taking my nipples between his fingers and squeezing them gently. The pressure sends a little spike through me, directly to my clit, making me shudder involuntarily. He withdraws his hands, satisfied with his exploration of me. I'm aching now. I need him to fuck me, but I can't ask. I can just plead with my eyes.

I know it's what he wants, to see the need in me, the hold he has over me. This isn't like anything I've ever had before. Even when I still loved Toby, it was never like this: so intimate. Covalent has made an inventory of my responses and all I can think about is having him inside me. I strain against my bindings; it's the only way I have to express my unending frustration. He looks at me and I know he understands.

Instead, he takes my face in his hands and kisses me. Then, he picks up the knife from the table and I feel a stab of fear. I watch the blade as it glints in the light, weaving through the air, until it comes to rest on my inner thigh, high up against my crotch. I stay perfectly still, hypnotised by the delicate movement of steel against my vulnerable skin.

"We need to discuss," he says, breaking the tense silence. "When it comes down to it, how do you want me to make it happen?"

I'm blinking rapidly, trying to switch contexts, expelling the unrelenting need for attention and sharpening my wits to answer him.

"Femoral artery?"

I tell him nothing, and it's not because of the embargo on conversation. I haven't thought this far ahead, and it chills me to the core that Covalent already has.

"Bleed out? Just a nick and then it's done."

I can feel how sharp the blade is on my skin.

"Would you like me to do it now?"

There is something in his eyes that enthralls me. I can't look away. The blade moves fractionally, and I shudder. He's capable of doing it. It's what he wants. He's asking me if it's what I want, and in the moment, just here, I can't answer. It's not a no.

"Or do you want it to happen at the peak, as you climax. Do you want to feel that rush and then I do it?"

"Yes."

My answer is almost inaudible, the unspeakable confession of my darkest desire: to be lost in the white moment of orgasm and then tipping over into a headlong rush towards oblivion, climaxing again and again until my body finally gives way.

There it is. I can see it all now and it's utterly shocking, the puzzle pieces locking together in my head for the very first time. I see myself on my knees in the café, feeling the shockwave of the stun grenade, the blinding flash, the barrel of his gun in my mouth, the overwhelming tsunami of orgasm. I thought I had dodged that bullet, but I realise now that I didn't. It tore a hole straight through me, leaving a void that has become impossible to fill.

"Yes," I repeat, closing my eyes, conscious of the blade and nothing else.

I feel his lips against mine and I lean into the kiss, giving him everything I am. When he eventually pulls away, I open my eyes to see him standing over me, a soft, far-away look on his face.

"You're perfect, Raven. Just perfect."

He walks around behind me with the knife in his hand. He grips my shoulder and when he speaks, his lips are next to my ear.

"If you want to keep living, you're smart enough to work out how."

The knife blade rests on my shoulder. I close my eyes, caught in flashbacks so powerful that they erase the present. I know how, I learned the hard way: being held captive in the café, I spent the better part of two days pleasing that evil fuck. I used my body, adopted a deferential tone, everything to make myself more appealing. I flaunted myself to make him like me, to avoid the gun being put to my head. That was the reason it had been Kaylee and I on our knees at the end. He'd taken a liking to us, both of us using the same tricks to survive but in the end, both of us making ourselves the centre of attention. He sequestered us in the back of the café so he could have private conversations with us. It gave everyone else the opportunity to run, but it also sealed our fate.