The Light Between the Trees Ch. 13

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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BEHIND THE MASK

The first thing I notice is the light. My eyes are closed, but I can see reds and oranges alongside tiny sparkles of pure white. I can't feel my body at all, or hear anything. I need to open my eyes, to see what's happened to me, but I can't. I won't.

A softness, pressed against my lips, then gone. Fingers through my hair.

"Raven?"

Reluctantly, I open my eyes, and find myself looking up into the vault of a cloudless blue sky. Slowly, my thoughts begin to coalesce.

"Is this heaven?" I croak.

There is a rich, low chuckling sound near my head. A figure leans over me.

"I don't think so. I'm here," Covalent says, "I don't think they'd let me in."

I feel his arms sliding beneath my bare body and suddenly I'm in the air. I try to focus on his face, but I can't, my head lolling uselessly as he carries me across the parched grass. I know where he's taking me: towards the house and away from the hole in the earth. I'm struggling to think straight, but I know I need to work it out.

"Why?"

Covalent doesn't answer. I feel his arms around me, supporting me like I'm a rag doll unable to bear my own weight. I close my eyes again, enjoying the feeling of his chest pressed tightly against my naked skin, the jolt of each step as he crosses the paddock with me in his arms. It brings back a memory: of being curled up tightly in the plastic sack in the bottom of the hole. I shudder, but not from fear. I'm recalling the bliss.

The cadence of his steps change and I hear the creak of wood then the sound of the flyscreen door opening. I'm being lowered down, spread out on my little deflated mat on the old wooden decking. I don't move, keeping my eyes closed as he arranges my limbs, lying me comfortably on my back in the shade of the enclosed verandah, away from the burning heat of the sun.

A silence descends, but I know he's still there next to me. I can feel his eyes on me, taking in the shape of my nude body, the dirt ground into my bare skin, the nakedness of me, shaved completely of all hair, clean between my legs, my head bald and slick with the gleam of perspiration from the heat of the day. I am what he's made me, rendered from boss bitch in my power skirts and high heels to a motionless plaything, arranged on a mat in front of him.

"Why?"

I still need to know.

"I wanted to know if you were really ready."

Fingers touch the top of my head, roaming across my cheek, my chin. I still don't open my eyes, not wanting to break the spell and end this moment. The fingers explore my body, the curve of a breast, brushing over a nipple, making me shiver. He explores further, down to my waist, circling my belly button, then further, over my bare, shaved mons, to settle at last on my pussy. With the merest feather-light touch, he strokes up and down my slit. I let out a long, slow groan.

Covalent removes his hand, and I hear the creak of the decking as he walks away. I hear the door into the house open and then close, then silence. I'm left exactly as he arranged me, as if I'm nothing more than his empty beautiful doll. I don't try and move because it seems inappropriate. The air is warm around me, and, as the adrenaline purges from my body, I find myself sinking gratefully into the mat.

It's just as he told me, that he could make me feel like the deflated mattress on the hard wooden decking was as soft as any bed I'd ever slept on. He'd said that he would train my body, and he has. He's shaping me and I'm not resisting him. He can do with me as he pleases.

As I drift into sleep, I recall his words to me as he closed up the sack: love.

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I don't know what rouses me, but I wake with a start, rolling onto my side, blinking away the sleep. The sun is lower now, and the sky has gone from blue to a rich golden colour. I sit up, listening out for any sign of Covalent, but the house is silent. There's a moment of panic, a little spike of adrenaline that gets me to my feet. Where is he? Has he left me all alone?

I peer through the windows into the house, but I can't see him. Maybe he's crashed out on the bed, taking a nap in the heat. I know I'm not allowed inside, so I decide to go around the house to look in through the bedroom window. Carefully, trying not to make a sound, I open the flyscreen door and descend the wooden steps to the grass.

Rounding the corner of the house, I see his vehicle still parked where he left it. I go up to his bedroom window and look in, but the bed is empty. I look in all the windows, until I'm sure he isn't in the house. Looking around, the only place left to search is the shed.

I walk over to it, the only sound in the stifling, lifeless air being the swish of my feet through the dry grass. The doors of the shed are wide open, as usual, but he's not there either. I stand in the middle of the grass with my hands on my hips, taking in the view of the shed, the house, the bore water pumping apparatus. There's a little feeling gnawing at me, that he's abandoned me, but it's ridiculous. He can't be far, the car's still here. Then I hear a voice.

It's just a few words, and then silence, but I creep into the shed, in the direction of the sounds. Standing by the little broken window, I pause, listening hard.

"Yeah."

I freeze. He's outside, just the other side of the window.

"Look, yeah, but it's like I said."

Silence again. He's on a call.

"No, she's got her little protégé there. Apparently, he's got his own little project."

Quiet again. Then a laugh.

"Yeah, like you just learn all this in a week, like you can take courses at school. The little fucker wouldn't even pass the entry exam."

I get as close as I can to the window, daring myself to peer out.

"She has a thing for him, I reckon. He can certainly do no wrong, the entitled prick."

I stifle a gasp. He's so loud, right up against the wall. I can hear the faint droning of the other voice.

"Yeah, but that's it. She knows, Gabe. She's watching him fuck it up and then, yeah, it's like I'm supposed to drop everything and fix up the mess."

There is a faint buzz of conversation.

"That's just it. Why should I drop everything because Jodie has something she needs? I've got my own project."

Covalent is silent for a long time this time as the other voice buzzes on the call. His own project? Me? It floors me that I'm a project to him, something to be dealt with and ticked off.

"No, I'm not doing something on the side. I'm not going independent. Shit, if she thought I was setting up in business against her, I'm pretty sure... yeah. Yeah, that's right. I'd be an integral part of someone's foundations. But that's what I'm trying to tell you Gabe. You say you want to get involved, but I'm telling you. Seriously, don't. Once you're in with them, there's no way out."

My blood goes cold. Just what the hell is he talking about?

"I do. I fucking want out."

Covalent lets out a groan.

"No. I mean yes, I could. If I gave a recommendation, I'm sure you could pick it up. But Jodie's bad, bad news, Gabe, I couldn't do that to you."

There is a long pause. I realise I'm holding my breath.

"I want to stay here. It feels right," he murmurs, his words almost too low to make out, "She's... uh, I never found anyone like her."

There's a staccato laugh and it startles me.

"Yeah. Like, where the hell did that come from? I was not expecting that this morning when I got up. That was not in my to-do list. But, it felt amazing. It really puts everything else into perspective. It all just feels right."

I'm just standing there, biting my lip. Is that how he feels about me? I had asked him why he didn't just leave me buried at the bottom of the shaft he'd made me dig, finally keeping his promise to live out my fantasy with me. Wrapped in the tight plastic sack, sealed up without air, my body burning with the haze of orgasm, having my deepest desire finally realised, I wanted it so much: to be used and discarded, buried and forgotten, ended at last. Had he looked into my eyes and changed his mind? Had it been the test he claimed, or had he saved me at the last moment, pulling me back from the abyss, because of one thing? Love?

"Look, let's talk tomorrow. I gotta go."

There's a beep and then silence. Nervously, I edge away from the window, moving barefoot over the concrete floor, silent. I don't know what to think, all I know is that if he knows I was spying on him I'm in deep shit. I look around quickly, realising that if he's done and he's about to head back to the house, there's no way I'm going to be able to make it back to the safety of the verandah before I'm discovered. I need some plausible reason for being in the paddock.

I move quickly over the grass towards the bore. I'm busily roping myself into the crossbeam when I see him come around the side of the shed. He stops for a moment, staring, then comes over to me.

"Thought I'd get a few turns in before dark," I tell him, "Since I missed the day yesterday."

"You don't need to."

"We need the water, right?"

"We've got enough, for now. How about you fill up a bucket and bring it up to the house?"

"Why?"

"Because I say so."

Just like that, he turns and walks away. I watch him plod up to the house, then go over to the water tank. There's a bucket next to it and I fill it, scraping it along the bottom of the tank. Despite all my time in the yoke, going around and around in circles, I've only just managed to pull up enough water from the bore to fill the bottom few centimetres of the tank. It feels so pointless.

I haul the bucket back up to the verandah, some of the water sploshing against my bare legs. Maybe that was the point of it, that it was pointless. Covalent was filling my days with useless, degrading, repetitive tasks, letting me trudge around in my rut, bare, filthy and so very constantly horny, until that was all I was thinking about. He'd made sure that all I'm concerned with is food, drink, rest, shelter and sex, conditioned to want nothing more, contented to become his slave, to give him my body to do with as he saw fit.

Covalent is waiting for me on the verandah with a cloth and a razor.

"Sit."

I sink onto the wooden chair, eyeing the razor nervously. He sloshes it around in the bucket, then wets the cloth, pouring on some liquid soap and working it up into a lather. He steps in front of me and I close my eyes, feeling him working the cloth over my head, down my neck, over my breasts in long, slow circles. When I open my eyes again, I find him staring at me, backlit by the sunset. The sun is low now, and the sky has turned the colour of rust.

"Spectacular sunset," I murmur.

Covalent continues to soap my body, dipping down my front, brushing the cloth against my pussy. I feel the friction of the rough fabric against my lips and I let out a little sigh, but he's already moving on, along my thighs and down my legs, leaving me wanting more of his touch. I look up at him, aware of how I must look: naked and gleaming, covered in suds.

"Yeah, it's the fires," he replies.

"What fires?"

"There's a blaze in the foothills, been going for about a week. The sky went all red in the city. The news was full of it, like they were waking up on Mars."

He picks up the razor and begins to run it over my scalp. My eyes drift closed, relishing the delicate sensual attention, letting him shave me again. This time is different. There is no internal struggle, no fear of what I would look like. I know what it is now, revelling in the warm glow as he shaves my head and then shifts his attention to my armpits, removing the stubble there with the same meticulousness. This is submission, allowing him to change me into the thing his heart desires me to be, to be shaped by his hand knowing that in doing do, I'm being turned into his fantasy.

Covalent kneels down in front of me and I part my legs, opening myself up to him, welcoming the razor's edge over my thighs, over my shins, across my calves, moving as he requires, until I'm completed. He rinses the razor again and his fingers manipulate my opening, pinching my labia as the steel glides over the sensitive skin, ridding me of the irritating regrowth between my legs.

He works his way over my crotch methodically, painstakingly, and I thrill to his touch. I know he can feel my moisture, that he's well aware of what he's doing to me. The razor is withdrawn at last and he takes the cloth again, wiping away the soap from my skin, starting at my head and working his way down slowly to my toes.

He's careful, moistening the cloth again before cleaning the suds from my groin, running the cloth over my slit. I know I'm perfectly clean now, but he keeps going, until a low groan escapes unbidden from my lips. The cloth is dropped back into the bucket and I rouse myself, ready to protest at the sudden withdrawal of delicious sensation, but his fingers remain in place, pressing onto my labia, holding me open.

His face is close to my crotch. I can feel his warm breath against my skin. I'm aching for his touch, anticipating the moment of contact. He's already worked my body up to the brink, with such a simple thing as shaving and cleaning me.

"Now," he whispers, "I want you to follow instructions."

It's a measure of just how far I've come, that I simply nod my head, implying that I'll do as he tells me, without question. He comes close, spreading me wide, and kisses my clit.

"Fuck," I gasp, overwhelmed by the sensation, not understanding how he's done this to me.

He kisses me again, and I feel myself contracting, pulsing, maddeningly close but still not quite yet finally there. Another kiss. It's unbearable. I try to close my thighs, but he's too strong, holding me in position, utterly exposed.

"No," he chides, "Not yet, I'll tell you when."

He continues the slow torture. Each time he puckers his lips around my throbbing nub, I groan, squirming, unable to help myself. It's so delicate, so exquisite, all I can think about. He holds me there on the edge and I know I can't tip over, because he hasn't told me to. When did I become this thing? Asking for release, totally focused on what he's doing to me, totally under control? The thought itself burns into me, to be subjugated like this, treated as a toy, making me hotter, driving me further, until I can't even think. Another kiss. I quiver.

"Cum."

He kisses me again, but this time his lips don't break contact. He sucks gently, his tongue tip exploring my hyper-sensitive clit, and I obey, shuddering into full climax at his touch. My hips rock forward in the chair, but he's pinning me in place so that I can't get up, can't close my legs, can't defend myself against the tempest of tiny kisses he rains down on me, buoying up my orgasm, stretching it out until I'm writhing and spent. It's like nothing I've ever felt before.

At last, he releases me and steps back. I can't move, my body flopping bonelessly in the chair as I stare up at him. His eyes travel down my body and I follow, seeing myself as if through his eyes, for the first time. Beneath the grime, my skin has turned a rich golden brown, unfettered by tan lines. My stomach is taut, my legs more defined, sculpted by long hours fastened to the crossbeam out in the sun. I look back up at his face, seeing the intensity of his reaction and I realise what it is that I'm doing to him, by surrendering myself to his desires.

I know what I need to do, what he needs, and I slide off the chair onto my knees before him. I reach out, unzipping his jeans, reaching inside. He doesn't stop me or pull away as I extract his manhood, feeling its warmth in my hands, the way it begins to stiffen at my touch. I take him into my mouth and begin to tease his purple head with the tip of my tongue, sucking gently.

"Good girl," he moans, placing a hand on my head.

He isn't treating me like a woman, he's treating me like a creature, his creature. I take him all the way in. I suck, I tease and when he erupts, I swallow. I'm a good girl, after all.

Later that night, when I'm sure that Covalent has gone to sleep, I get up, moving as quietly as I can across the ancient creaking planks of the verandah. I take an age to gently prise the screen door open, slipping through it and down the steps into the night.

I walk out into the grass, into the blackness, but there's light and I look up at a vast multitude of stars strewn across the inky void above me. I'm a long way from where I began, navigating by instinct through this unfamiliar, terrifying, spectacular new terrain. My eyes map the stars, seeking new paths.

There once was a girl who got caught on her knees at the end of the world, with a gun in her mouth. She was scared and lost and hopeless and angry, but I don't know who she is.

I'm someone else.

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[Next chapter: Chloe has an opportunity to find out who Covalent really is. The truth shocks her to the core.

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