Voyeur Ch. 09

Sorry for the delay on this. Thanks for being patient.

This chapter is mostly about the captivity scene. The developments that Rachel fans are waiting for will come next chapter, likely the final chapter.

Also, to sociofolk379 (not sure if you received my reply) - your request has my full blessing.

Hope you guys enjoy. Voting and feedback appreciated.

****

Two brothers traipsed through woodland. A group of young men greeted them and casually shook hands with the taller one.

"They're here for your send-off, little bro," he said, turning with a grin to see his brother flush with pleasure, flattered by the attention.

"You gonna do us proud, kiddo?" One ruffled the teen's dark blonde hair and clapped him on the back.

Logan chuckled. "Damn straight, he will. He's ready."

"Good."

The group of men fell back, and the younger one gaped at what they'd concealed.

"W-What is this?"

Logan accepted a cigarette from one of the others, and took this time lighting it. "A little something before you head off. It'll give you advantage. Edge."

A handgun slapped into the boy's palm. He broke into a cold sweat, his eyes on the man kneeling in front of him; completely restrained, gagged and blind-folded. Shaking like a leaf.

"I... This is a joke, right?" he said numbly.

"Nope, go ahead."

"Logan...I can't!"

"You can. Come on, you're embarrassing me."

"No, really. I-"

"If he doesn't have it in him..." one of the men spoke out, hooking two thumbs into his jean pockets; both arms sleeved in tattoos. A cigarette precariously dangled from his bottom lip.

"Shut up, Colton," Logan glared, looping his arm around the boy. "Hey, don't listen to them. Relax. It's like the gym, you know? The first workout hurts. Now look at you, all muscle. Just relax."

The boy spoke stubbornly; his voice trembled with an edge of fear. "I agreed to enlist. Not this. I don't want to do this."

"Come on. We talked about it. This is the head start I never had. I'm fucking jealous."

Silence followed; heavy with disapproval. Fighting tears, the teen bit his lip and cast an upset look at his brother. The others also watched Logan, most with raised eyebrows.

"Fucking Hell." Logan took a long drag and dropped his cigarette, grinding it into the soil with the heel of his boot. "Fine, you don't have to. Jesus Christ. Give me the gun."

Reaching to accept the weapon, Logan's hand closed around Ray's in an unshakable grip. The gun fired three rounds; the blindfolded man gurgled and collapsed.

Ray screamed.

******

Ray's upstairs bedroom was uncharacteristically bright. It looked like the setting of a homemaker catalogue, with a big square mahogany bed-frame and white linen with beige furniture to balance the colours.

Rachel woke with a sob, feeling like she'd endured a tiresome overnight flight; dozing but subconsciously aware of being in the wrong place for lack of a proper bed.

Except she was in a proper bed. Ray's bed, and he was curled around her like a possessive serpent. Awake, alert, and waiting.

"Do you want to talk?" he murmured, playfully grazing her neck with his teeth, wanting to taste more of her. He'd been awake for at least an hour, considering his next course of action.

In light of the blackmail footage, he concluded there were three options to encourage Rachel's cooperation. Offering to clear Ben's name was a good one.

They'd sit together and send an email with photo attachments to a person of choice, probably a relative. The email would be intercepted and land in his junk folder without hitting destination. It was a program he'd installed in case a captive managed to get onto his computer to summon help. Though it never came close to that, Rachel had substantial freedoms with him and was very high risk.

Ray anticipated she would eventually want some proof that Ben was off the hook. It was an angle Ray hoped wouldn't come to her attention for a while. When it inevitably did, he would explain that he attempted to help, as promised, but no other guarantees were made.

Option two... Force himself on her. Ray quickly moved onto option three.

Of the various drugs at his disposal, only one would suit his purpose without knocking her out. He wanted her conscious.

They were called 'Ditzers' -- known to have an effect similar to drinking two bottles of vodka, without the need for hospitalization or stomach-pumping. They dissolved inhibitions and encouraged careless honesty.

Under Ditzer influence, people were inclined to spill critical secrets. It didn't always work, nor was it exactly a medically-approved formula. Ray didn't want to fuck up Rachel's insides or cause permanent damage by spiking her food every night. But maybe just once...

"I don't know what to say," Rachel mumbled.

"Do you want breakfast?" Ray inquired, remembering she had recently been ill.

Rachel morosely nodded, drearily recognising she was quite ravenous yet again.

"Alright, I'll be back."

"Wait."

Ray paused on the edge of the bed and Rachel tiredly looked his way, noticing his arms seemed enormous in the soft yellow bed-shirt. Though Ben was sizably muscled, he never appeared threatening.

"How can you help Ben?" she asked.

Unmoved by her glum face, Ray looked conversationally thoughtful as though he hadn't already planned it out. "I could send some photos of you alive and well. They would have to be convincing."

Rachel nodded, still staring at the bed. Ray reached across to smugly ruffle her hair, then went downstairs.

Rachel made use of her spare time to freshen up, discovering her toothbrush and toiletries had been brought from downstairs. Ray's bathroom was quite large, luxurious, and smelled like him; his cologne, his skin, his overall essence. She didn't like being there, it felt intimate, as if she was immersed in his personal space. She preferred the plainer, sterile bathroom downstairs.

Ray gave 'breakfast in bed' a whole new impression. Rachel didn't think it'd ever hold appeal for her again. The food was good, granted. It always was. But she was so damn miserable it may as well be expired gruel. Perhaps it was the elephant in the room.

Ray wanted sex from her, that much was clear. She wasn't going anywhere; Ray proved capable of enforcing that policy. Eager as she was to progress Ben's rescue from a distance, Rachel just didn't know how to initiate such a repulsive conversation.

Watching her brow cutely furrow with concentration, Ray was impressed that once again, Rachel avoided hysterics in a nasty situation. Inevitably the intimacy would become a topic, but for now he relished in her quiet defeat. The ball was in her court.

"So..." Rachel idly stabbed her finger into the spongey mattress and watched it instantly re-firm. She sat up against the headboard with her knees to her chest in a defensive position that effectively blocked Ray from cuddling her.

"Yes?" Ray beamed, trying to catch her eye.

Rachel had carefully avoided all eye-contact with him since the last evening. It was only when Ray pretended to be busy that he managed to lock eyes with her before she quickly looked away. It both annoyed and amused him.

"How do we do this?" she muttered.

Ray stretched out by her side and walked his fingers up her shoulder to tap a flushed cheekbone. "That depends. Do we have an agreement?"

"I'm not clear on the terms."

Ray chuckled. "Very well." Rachel stiffened when he sat up and draped an arm around her. His other hand sneaked over one of hers.

"We'll do a photoshoot later." Ray's heart quickened as he imagined a very different kind of photography. "Email them to a relative, with a fluffy explanation. The email won't be traceable, so they won't be able to reply."

"And?"

"And you stop acting like you're at a funeral, for starters," he spoke into auburn tresses. Sexy bed-hair. His cock stirred.

Rachel did feel like she was at a funeral, following the death of love and happiness. "What else?"

"Don't be like that. Just relax."

Rachel bristled. It seemed Ray was always telling her to 'relax' when she had no reason to. Ray's hand left hers to turn her face up.

"Kiss me."

She sombrely cooperated, and Ray broke off with a laugh. "Come on, I know you can do better than that!"

"This is difficult for me. When do we send the photos?"

"After we take them." Seeing the look on Rachel's face, he sighed and began to tidy their breakfast.

"Can we do it now?" she asked, blushing when hazel eyes turned her way with a saucy gleam. "The...The photos, I mean. Take the photos."

"Do you know how long a disappearance investigation lasts before it goes to trial?"

Rachel shook her head. Ray smiled understandingly, though the sentiment didn't reach his eyes; they were warmly fixed on her chest.

"Let's just say there's plenty of time for you to convince me," he said with slow emphasis, setting the tray of dirty dishes aside.

Though it wasn't in her nature, Rachel longed to indulge in a toddler tantrum. She wanted to let loose in a screaming fit of rage, kicking and beating her fists against the polished timber flooring. If Ray weren't there to witness the humiliating spectacle, she'd do it.

Ray grinned at her brooding turmoil, wondering about his feelings for her.

Sexually, she set him on fire, and he quickly developed a surprising aversion to physically harming her. But he was also completely fine with her quiet, abject misery.

Ray crawled onto the bed and gently unravelled Rachel from her curled-up position, guiding her to lie flat. Balanced above her, he eased one hand down the front of her pants and lightly brushed his fingertips across her pussy as she crossly looked away.

Dry as a bone. Well, a very soft bone with a rose petal texture...

"Ouch," Rachel said sullenly when his fingers tentatively stroked her.

Ray was highly suspicious of that feedback. Perhaps she wasn't aroused, but he hadn't touched her in a way that could incite pain.

"I'll kiss it better," he smiled.

"I don't like being licked," Rachel pouted. "It's uncomfortable."

Ray hesitated, then narrowed his eyes. Clever girl.

Rachel was using his aversion to sexual abuse as leverage to keep him at bay. It was no secret that her discomfort would make his experience unpleasant. She was cock-blocking him. That sneaky little...

"You liked it the other morning," Ray pointedly reminded her, getting some satisfaction from the fiery blush filling her cheeks. "You came really hard, right on my face."

Rachel scowled.

"Come on," Ray murmured against her temple, lowering on top of her. "We both know I can get you there."

"I just...I don't think I can enjoy it after what happened."

Ray laughed and nuzzled her neck. "We both know that's a lie."

Ironically, it wasn't. Whenever Rachel didn't see Ben's face, she saw those men in the woods, leering at her. She kept thinking about what they would have done if Ray didn't come after her. Their rough hands on her body; the degradation she would have endured. They may have killed her after, or she might have begged to die before they were finished.

Then she wondered if they had family who were waiting for them, or dependent children. They didn't look like bread-winners, that was some consolation. And their bodies would eventually be found, which was more than she could say for herself.

No one would ever know what happened to her, or why. If she choked on a peanut and died, Ray would simply dispose of her. No funeral. No one would know the truth; not her colleagues, not her parents. Not Ben.

Though she avoided it in the beginning, Rachel pictured Ben's face whenever she could. It hurt, but she realised the heartache of sweet memories would hurt less than the loss of those memories. The notion that Ben's face might eventually fade from her consciousness over time terrified her.

"So, you think you can't get off with me?" Ray asked flippantly, the inquisitive tone set Rachel on high alert. Despite the easy smile on his lips, there was a sharpness in his eyes that warned she tested his patience.

"Well, not intercourse," she said uneasily. "It's a bit much."

"I'm too big for you?" Ray's tone dripped with false sympathy.

"Yes," Rachel said weakly, aware the conversation had taken a dangerous turn. "I'd appreciate it if... I mean, we should probably wait."

"Indeed, we should," Ray quickly agreed. "But now you're my literal partner in crime, I think we should overcome these little problems together as a team, don't you?"

Uh oh. "I just...Please, Ray, I can't. Really..."

"Not even for Ben?"

Rachel's lip trembled. "Well, yes. I mean, I just need time, so it doesn't hurt."

Nice word choice, schemer. Ray's smile turned slightly aggressive. "And if I can make it comfortable for you, so it doesn't hurt?"

"Then I s-suppose..." Rachel gulped, nervously watching him reach under the bed. "I mean... But I don't think that I can-"

"Let's test that theory, shall we?" Ray pleasantly interrupted. Standing to his full height, he gripped several pairs of cuffs in one hand, the ball gag in the other.

****

Ben glared at his reflection. The clothes were ok; black combat pants, boots and an olive t-shirt. But there was an obnoxious yellow hat on his head that he'd like to throw into a fire. It was eye-wateringly fluorescent, with a dorky chicken-head cartoon on the front. It was so horrible that Ben felt his temper increase just from looking at it. But if it meant getting Rachel back, Ben would happily dance along the highway in a matching costume.

"I feel like a fucking idiot."

"You look like one," Brian said honestly.

Ahmed smiled thinly. "It's perfect. Conspicuous." He checked his watch. "Fifteen minutes. Tell your friend."

Ben dialled Kevin's number from the throwaway phone Ahmed gave him. It was Ahmed's idea to use Kevin since he resembled Ben from a wide distance.

Ben was incensed to learn Ahmed had vigorously investigated all of his inner-circle, but begrudgingly understood Ahmed needed to rule out everybody Rachel had recently come into contact with.

The man was experienced enough to presume the culprit was someone close to home. If anything, Ahmed seemed a little pleased that the case was very unique to the kidnapping norm. With Rachel tangled in a fast relationship with Ben and having no obvious connection to Ray, it was the perfect crime. The only thing Ray underestimated was Marcus' resources. Namely, Brian.

"Hey." Kevin sounded overly confident and Ben knew he was trying to hide his nerves. "I'm early."

"We'll be fifteen minutes."

"Ok."

"I really appreciate this, Kev."

"You'd do the same for me."

"Yeah. See you soon." Ben hung up with a deep sigh.

Conflicting emotions swirled through him; excitement, rage, love, bloodlust. Once Rachel was safe, he was going to beat that fucking girl-snatcher to death with his bare hands. Whatever the outcome, he was bringing his girlfriend home.

But first, there was a little charade Ahmed was adamant was necessary in case the police were tailing him. And so, wearing the dumbest hat he'd ever seen, Ben made his way to Marcus' bustling corporate offices that currently served little purpose.

"I feel like I'm in a cheesy action flick," Ben muttered in the private office, still avoiding his reflection.

"Let's pray it stays cheesy," Brian retorted. "I fucking hate horror movies."

Ahmed hauled a duffle bag over his shoulder. In black combat gear, he looked very intimidating. "It's time."

Brian and Ben waited ten minutes after Ahmed departed, then took the elevator and exited the front of the building.

"Lah de dah," Brian hummed, signalling an idle black car that quickly drew closer.

"Where to, Brian?" The driver asked, his eyes in the rear view mirror moving to Ben's awful hat. Then he met Ben's eyes, and quickly looked away.

"The Center. It's my Aunt's birthday and I have to get her something fancy. Something with feathers."

"Right-o." The driver was used to Brian's strange explanations; they usually turned out to be true.

It wasn't until they reached destination that Brian dropped his bombshell. "Shane, wait here. I'm not coming back. In about ten minutes, a guy in the same hat as my friend here," he jerked his thumb at Ben, "will get into the car. Take him to the airport."

"Sure, Brian," Shane said calmly, though blinked furiously.

Once they entered the shopping centre, Brian and Ben separated. Brian zigzagged between levels, spent no more than three minutes browsing a suit store, then headed toward the back of the centre.

Ben strode along ground level, pretending not to notice the many eyes drawn toward the offending hat on his head. Ahmed wanted a fluro eye-sore, and did a great job finding one.

Ben turned into a corridor leading to the bathrooms. A couple of guys were in there, plus Kevin, fretfully playing with his throwaway phone. Kevin was dressed identically to Ben, and silently accepted the yellow hat with a look of revulsion that brought a wry smile to Ben's face.

"Wear it proud," Ben said lowly, tugging the visor lower to shelter more of Kevin's face.

"They're watching you this carefully?" Kevin breathed, pocketing Ben's personal phone.

Ben pressed a finger to his lips and jerked his head. After a nervous gulp, Kevin left the toilets with his face down, coughing into his hands.

Ben quickly removed his t-shirt, exposing a pale blue one beneath, and dumped the olive one in the bin. Then he took a deep breath and briskly left the room in Kevin's wake.

Kevin walked about ten metres ahead, still rubbing his eyes. Ben saw a man standing outside a newsagent suddenly dump the book he was reading and fall in line behind Kevin.

"Huh," Ben said under his breath, casually turning his back on them. He made his way to the back of the centre, and took his time sidling between parked cars. Then he fluidly opened the back door of a black jeep and slipped in.

"Smooth," Brian approved, wishing Marcus was as capable of following instructions.

Marcus commenced his journey at the start of the day, driving solo to Ahmed's chosen meeting point. While on the road, he stupidly used his personal phone to call Brian, who immediately terminated the call before any damage was done. After Brian finally got through to the disposable phone Ahmed had given Marcus, Brian and Marcus were so busy yelling at each other that Marcus took the wrong exit off the freeway.

By the time Marcus realised his blunder, he was almost three hours off course. It didn't interfere with the plan, it only verified that Ahmed was right to allow Marcus a half day's head-start in case he fucked up.

"Not bad, for a fugitive, Ben," Ahmed grinned. "If you liked the hat, I can get you another one."

Ben's lip curled, and for a moment Brian looked like he was choking on air. "Ahmed, did you just make a joke?"

Ahmed shrugged, deadpan again. Brian turned his bemused gaze out the window as they made their way from the parking lot, wondering why his steely associate had taken a shine to Ben.

"I think someone was following me," Ben mused, also looking out the window.

"Of course. You're a murder suspect. They're going to freak when they make your friend." Ahmed was smiling again. "It won't matter if they have your passport. They'll send every man and his dog to the airport. By the time they review CCTV and sight you, we'll be untraceable."

"And Kevin will be alright?" Ben asked sharply.

Ahmed shrugged and started the engine. "So long as you didn't tell him anything of value, he'll be fine. There's no law against lending a hat to a friend."

"Well..." Brian began contemplatively.

"This expedition will clear Ben's name," Ahmed interrupted. "Even if..." He bit his lip and dismissed the thought to focus on the road.