Voyeur Ch. 07

Marcus fell into a devastated silence, but Brian wasn't finished.

"We all have our life lessons," Brian said harshly, his anger and fear for Rachel bubbling inside him. "But not at the cost of an innocent life. An innocent girl... fuck." Brian turned away bitterly. "No girl deserved your bullshit, and then this bullshit..."

Years of frustration simmered to surface, and Rachel's sweet, nervous smile filled Brian's vision. He thumped his fist to the table.

"If she's dead, Marcus, I'm holding you accountable!" he shouted. "Get out of my sight, before I do something that has me arrested!"

As the door quickly slammed behind Marcus, Brian covered his face with shaking hands. At first, he was scared Marcus was embroiled in some sort of scandal he'd have to call in favours to smooth over, but in hindsight, that would have been a blessing.

Brian was always fond of Rachel. The idea that she could be dead, or in serious danger because of him, was too much to bear. He had to make it right, not for Marcus, but as a matter of personal principle so he could sleep at night.

If only she was still alive.

******

The following day passed very slowly for Ray. Not trusting himself, he only showed up to give Rachel meals, but otherwise kept the steel door locked and avoided her. When in her presence, she refused to look at him. Though he didn't like it, he couldn't blame her.

But Ray's lust was far from dying down. He felt like a ravenous creature trapped in a cage with an innocent child, leading to an inevitable devouring. But in this instance, he'd caged himself.

It seemed the day would never end, but it did.

She's downstairs.

Disturbed by his relentless, obsessive thoughts, Ray paced his office for half an hour, before deciding to attempt sleep.

Ray contemplatively stared at his tidy bed, not making a move to undress. He'd captured a girl who was slowly driving him crazy, barely touched her, and now he was sleeping alone. But the alternative made his stomach turn, even after all the underhand things he'd done.

Pondering it, Ray finally recognised his predicament. It wasn't just that forcing himself on a girl insulted his ego. For the first time, he was doing something abhorrent for free. This was for his own personal gain. Before now, someone else made the tough decisions. They told Ray what to do and he got it done, aware if he turned down a job that someone else, who was possibly very sadistic, would take it.

But there wasn't exactly a line-up of men waiting to rape Rachel. This was purely on his conscience.

She's downstairs.

Scowling, Ray climbed onto the bed. Instead of habitually laying on his back, he remained weirdly paused on all fours. Picturing Rachel lying under him, coyly smiling at his lust for her, Ray reached into his pants and wrapped his hand around one hell of an erection.

"Ugh," he groaned. Closing his eyes, his tight fist began to pump, imagining Rachel writhing sexily under him. He dreamed she hotly returned his kisses, stroked his cock and eagerly guided it inside her. Breathlessly begging for him to make her cum.

Despite the imagery spiking his libido, Ray's climax continued to cruelly evade him. He was painfully rock hard, and nowhere close.

She's downstairs.

******

Rachel tried to distract herself with a book and pretend she was on a holiday, but it wasn't working. It was her second or third day in captivity, she couldn't be sure, and curiosity was driving her insane. If she was going to inevitably die, she at least wanted to know why.

Though part of her felt stupid for not fighting, her instincts warned her to hold off. Oddly, she enjoyed unusual freedoms for a captive, and she'd be a fool to test the patience of a man Ray's size and agility.

Rachel's thoughts scattered when she heard a brisk knock, the steel door clicked, and Ray abruptly entered the room. Stalking to the corner armchair, he sat in it, then stared at her.

Rachel uncomfortably met his heated gaze. To ask, 'Is something wrong?' seemed too ironic, given her situation. A full minute passed, and Ray's eyes continued to smoulder.

Finally, Ray shook his head. "I can't fucking believe this!" he complained to the ceiling and got to his feet.

"I'm not going to lie," he said. Approaching the bed, he ripped the navy t-shirt over his head. Rachel's jaw dropped as she got a confronting eyeful of his toned bare chest. "I want you. I don't know why, but I do."

"O-O-Ok," Rachel stuttered, rapidly blinking at the half-naked man in front of her. "We can talk about this..."

"No, we can't!" Ray groaned, raking both hands though his chestnut brown hair. "I tried. Really, I did. Please." He lifted his palm in a pleading gesture. "Please, I'll be gentle. I know this is fucked up, but I really don't want to force you."

"F-Force me?" Struggling to absorb his words and their obvious meaning, Rachel's face was blank with shock until he began to undo his pants.

"What? Wait!" she said shrilly, pulling the blanket up to her neck, as though it might protect her. "Please, stop! Ray, please!" she begged, as he stepped out of his trousers and yanked his underwear down.

Rachel's eyes flared with horror when his hard cock bounced free and he began to stretch a condom over it. The man was hung, too hung for an unwilling woman. Though Rachel knew people endured this violation for years, decades, centuries before now and the acts would continue as long as civilisation existed, she didn't feel any better.

Rachel led a rather sedentary lifestyle. She never looked for trouble, and certainly never imagined she'd find herself in this position. A position where something imposingly large was going to be in forced inside her before she was ready for it. The naked sight of Ray might have thrilled any woman on heat, but seeing his giant erection only heightened her panic.

And it was probably just the beginning. She'd clearly been a fool to cooperate. Suddenly, all the gruesome stories of the sadistic things serial killers inflicted on helpless victims surged through her mind, with gory exaggeration.

Ray carefully climbed onto the bed at the same time light-headedness overcame Rachel. The feelings of exhaustion, helplessness and pending dread were overpowering. Rachel's mouth went dry, her heart raced impossibly fast as a hideous headache flourished between her temples. Before Ray could even touch her, Rachel collapsed back to the bed in a dead faint.

"What the fuck!" Ray swore. After watching her long enough to discern it wasn't a ruse, he pressed a palm to her clammy forehead.

Ray limits were already pushed in the kidnapping. Now, he felt as though she'd outsmarted him. After reconciling with stooping to a perversion that never appealed to him and finally steeling himself to take that plunge, she ruined it.

The rape part always gave him pause but raping an unconscious girl...there was literally nothing in it for him. He wasn't a necrophiliac. He wanted to kiss Rachel for a while, until she relaxed. But now Ray realised the kidnapping and imprisonment were the easy parts, mere routine. This was where the challenge really began.

Rachel was something of an irksome contradiction. She drove him physically nuts with lust, then her victimisation turned him off as suddenly as though she seized his cock and shoved it into a bucket of ice-water.

Budding resentment grew as his erection quickly died. Ray quickly retreated from the bed to impatiently peel off the condom, accepting he was too hasty stripping down to nothing so quickly. Angered to distraction by his desire, he didn't consider a more delicate approach.

After dressing himself, he cast a brooding, suspicious stare at Rachel's pale, impassive face. Then he left the room and locked the door behind him.

*****

"Go for it. I have nothing to hide." Ben exhaled impatiently and stared across the bare table at the cynical man opposite.

"How long have you practiced Muay Tai?"

"What the hell does that have to do with..." Ben closed his eyes. "Eight years."

"And Rachel was living with you?"

Ben's jaw tightened. "She... The relationship developed quickly."

"The neighbours didn't hear anything. But they reported hearing raised voices in the past."

"That was one misunderstanding!"

"About?"

Ben grit his teeth. "It was my raised voice, not a screaming match. I was upset her ex mistreated her. It was nothing."

"And nothing to do with her ex coming to your work? Are you a jealous guy, Ben?"

Ben gave the man a scathing look. "I don't have reason to be."

"Consider this objectively. You moved in together pretty fast. That's a lot of passion, right there." His eyes raked Ben's wide chest and toned arms.

"You're a strong looking guy, with a fighting background. Suddenly Rachel is gone, with no word to her family or employment. She leaves her phone behind, among other necessities, and sections of your apartment were sterilised. You have no clue how or why, except for the ex, who has an alibi. He also hinted you have quite the temper." He paused a moment to let it all sink in. "Maybe she changed her mind about you, and you didn't like it?"

Ben's hands balled into white fists at the implication he would hurt Rachel. "I would never violently touch her."

"Well, a fighter against a slip of a girl-"

"I just said I would never hurt her." Ben knew getting angry was pointless. Regardless, he could almost feel his blood boiling in his veins. "Why don't you check her ex-boyfriend, Marcus? He's the one who accosted her in public!"

"His alibi is solid. Now, why-"

"He wouldn't do his own dirty work!" Ben snarled.

"Why don't her family know you?"

"Because we got together quickly!"

"Another thing." The man casually pulled out a slip of paper. "Two of her colleagues mentioned you surprising Rachel at work."

Aware of exactly where this was headed, Ben glared at the ceiling.

"Ben? Hello?"

"Yeah. Ok." Ben heaved a huge, frustrated sigh. "It's not what you think."

"So, it's normal for Rachel to run out the back door to get away from you?"

"It wasn't like that! I knew-!"

I knew she was just shy.

I knew she liked me, too.

Ben stopped himself, aware he was digging a hole. Even if it was true, he'd sound like a maniac if he continued with his point.

Unfazed by Ben's agitation, his interrogator smoothly continued.

"Are you on any medication?"

"No."

"Do you take recreational drugs?"

"No."

"Steroids?"

"Asking the same questions over and over won't get a different answer from me! Do I need a lawyer? Am I under arrest?" Ben growled, his temper snapping. It wasn't the offensive line of questioning, as much as the fact every second the spotlight was on him, Rachel wasn't being found.

"Do you feel like you need a lawyer?" The detective serenely replied, again searching the paper pile.

"Your manager, Blake, mentioned arranging something for you. Despite being adamant that you are innocent, he was quite determined to have you well-represented...?" The man's curious tone was rudely insinuating.

It sucked that the situation looked exactly like what the police hinted. Ben couldn't blame them for the conclusions they had drawn, he would have thought the same in their shoes.

"That makes perfect sense, when someone is falsely implicated," Ben answered through grit teeth, very tempted to leap across the table and beat his interrogator to a pulp.

The second he stepped out of there he was going to smash a punching bag to tatters. Then he was going to find his girl.

"Why did you wait to report her missing?"

"I didn't wait!"

"You left the gym at 8pm. You say you got home at around..." the man peered at a scrawled timeline. "8.20pm. But you didn't speak up until after 10pm. What were you doing in that spare time?"

"Look, I thought she'd left me. I didn't think anything was seriously wrong until I found her apartment keys."

The door briskly opened, and a stranger poked his head around it. "Someone's here, for him."

"A lawyer?" the interrogator said testily.

"Er..." The visitor looked pondering. "Not quite. But somebody."

"Right. Well, we're in the middle of-"

"It can't wait." The man flinched as his colleague shot him a stare so cold that Ben, even in his distraught state, felt an inkling of pity for the messenger.

Without another word the detective abruptly left the room. He was back in three minutes, looking very flustered.

"Friends in high places, haven't you?" he said acidly, gesturing for Ben to leave.

Thoroughly confused, Ben wandered out and found two men waiting for him, neither of whom he'd laid eyes on in his entire life. A senior officer was muttering to them in a quiet argument, which quickly dissolved as Ben drew closer.

"Well, Ben. It seems your lawyer has done some quick work since-"

"What lawyer?" Ben snapped, and one of the men glared at him to shut his mouth.

"The one I promised," Brian said smoothly, stepping forward to seize Ben's upper arm. "You're still upset. I am sure they will find Rachel and clear this up-"

"This better be cleared up damn quickly," the senior officer quietly growled, but Brian didn't appear to hear him as he coolly led Ben away.

Finally, they were out the front, and Ben took a gulp of fresh air, his nerves still on end. "Who the fuck are you?"

"You're welcome," Brian said curtly, hoping Ben had more maturity than Marcus. "We have a lot to catch up on, and very little time. They're going to pin this on you."

"My girlfriend is missing, not dead!"

"They can convict you without a body. And if they can't pull it off, they'll make your life hell for the next twenty years," Brian dryly informed him. "I hope you don't mind, I had to supply your passport."

"What? How the fuck-?"

"I had someone break into your apartment. It was the only way to get you out," Brian curtly interjected.

Overwhelmed, Ben looked at his two new companions. "Who are you? What's going on?"

Brian hesitated. "We really need to talk. Not here, and not at your place."

*******

The next day Rachel opened her eyes and wondered why she was so anxious, until she realised her surroundings. It wasn't a bad dream; it was a real-life nightmare. Remembering her last conscious moments, Rachel let out a frightened gasp and looked down her body. She was still clothed, and nothing appeared rearranged.

Wincing, she stole a hand down the front of her pants and tentatively felt for any tell-tale sign of sexual assault. But there was no pain or ache or soreness. No wet bodily fluids on her pussy or anywhere between her thighs. But she was definitely sure she hadn't dreamed the attempted rape. It wasn't a prank; Ray clearly meant business. So, what happened?

Casting a paranoid glance to the steel door, Rachel rushed to use the bathroom. There was no lock on the door, of course. After the quickest shower of her life, Rachel went through some bags of her clothes taken from Ben's apartment, and quickly dressed in a matching grey tracksuit before scampering back to bed.

Prior to the night before, she'd taken her time undressing, showering, cleaning her teeth and exploring the room. But now, she feared Ray would burst in at any moment to rape her. Gathering her damp hair into a rough plait, she eventually approached the steel door. There was no handle on her end, but she remembered seeing one on the other side.

"Super practical," she sulked. The angry flush in her cheeks quickly paled when she heard movement, then Ray knocked, and she only just made it onto the bed as the door opened. It was ridiculous that she felt safe in the bed, because she wasn't safe anywhere in that house.

Ray stood quietly on the threshold, holding a tray of food. Rachel's mood immediately lifted as she caught the scent of hot coffee.

"How are you feeling?" Ray asked, watching her with an unreadable expression.

"B-Better," Rachel stuttered, the colour returning to her cheeks as she recalled seeing him stark nude.

"Remember much?" he queried, still not moving from the doorway.

"I s-saw you naked," Rachel awkwardly mumbled, lamenting the fact whenever she thought her blush couldn't possibly get worse, it did.

"Yeah." Unabashed, Ray grinned at her embarrassed statement.

As he strode forward to place the tray at the end of the bed, Rachel sat very still, though her heart thudded persistently against her ribcage.

Carefully sitting on the other side of the tray, Ray thoughtfully cracked his knuckles. "Is the blushing thing a medical condition?"

"No," Rachel muttered, and immediately regretted her answer. She should have said it was a fatally contagious disease that required a speedy hospital admission before they both dropped dead.

"Ok. Let's clear the air," Ray continued. "You're here because I'm attracted to you. I meant what I said -- I don't want to hurt you. But..." he frowned, choosing his words.

"I'm no stranger to violence; it's the nature of my work. You certainly won't win in a fight, and I am equipped to handle whatever escalates." He paused, pleased by euphemism for murder. "Do I need to be clearer about how this could escalate? Or what I mean by 'escalate'?"

Rachel sombrely shook her head.

"Good." Ray gestured to the tray. "I went for the basics, again. Coffee, juice and eggs."

"Thanks," Rachel said in a small voice, rather shocked she had any appetite at all.

"You're welcome. If you crave something different, let me know. So," Ray clapped his hands together and stood from the bed. "Enjoy breakfast, and then I'll come back for another chat. I won't pounce on you, scout's honour," he smiled.

It was only when the door closed behind him that Rachel realised her mouth was hanging open.

It took a few minutes of nervous waiting to be sure he wouldn't come back. Then Rachel shrugged off the chance of her food being drugged and tucked in. The food was good, or perhaps she was just so hungry, but it was all gone in under ten minutes.

Wistfully inhaling the coffee, she realised though the stimulating scent was a delight, it also reminded her of freedom. So far, she'd managed not to dwell on how much she missed Ben, because it made her want to cry, and she wanted to be on guard and not go to pieces.

Perhaps an hour passed before Ray returned. Though he seemed pleased she ate everything, Rachel was still too uncomfortable to look him in the eye for longer than a few seconds. In conjunction with her discomfort, her blushing was fucking atrocious.

Clearly in a good mood, Ray held a large, old cardboard box in his arms and Rachel prayed it wasn't filled to the brim with sadomasochistic torture implements.

Ray chuckled at her nervous tension and placed the box on the ground. Noting the contents, the anxiety on Rachel's face melted to blank confusion.

A bizarre collection of games held her attention, and she picked out a bunch of familiar titles -- Monopoly, Chess, Chequers...

Ray's laugh interrupted her stunned moment. "The look on your face," he grinned. "You even stopped blushing. Oops, I spoke too soon," he added, as Rachel's cheeks bloomed a deeper red.

"I don't get it," she muttered.

"Do you like to play games?" Ray asked.

"No," Rachel said slowly, feeling her sanity tested.

Perhaps she should have said 'yes' to appease him. But it was as if her world had been crushed into a snow-globe, given a vigorous shake, and landed her here. Why was a grown man who wanted to rape her, now offering childish games?

Ray tried not to smile at the inner turmoil visible on her face. The idea surfaced the night before, and he'd done some digging around the attic and uncovered a boxful of games he'd bought for a babysitting job. Literally babysitting the son of a corrupt politician.