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A cruel passionThis story may contain adult content. |
| Written by Jessica | |
| Wednesday, 09 July 2008 | |
Sophie Smith sat in a stinking pile of rubbish, her clothes smelling distinctly of the meal she had fished for in the rubbish; she was homeless now and she would have to get used to it if she wanted to live. Did she want to live if it meant being awoken by the constant squeaking of hungry rats as they nibbled off rotting bones and things that were a few months old? But she could not answer that as easily as one might have thought she might. She wanted to live, and she didn't want to die here. She snatched a lost piece of newspaper and peered at the jobs that were printed in black lettering; none of these were available to a nineteen year old girl that had no qualifications to speak of, not even one GCSE to her name. She yelped as a car drove through a dirty puddle, which splashed her with filthy, polluted, water from the sewers beneath the road. Great, she thought, now she was wet and smelly with nothing that she could change in to. It was as she wiped her eyes of the grey water, it's smell vile and pungent, that she first saw him. He wore a fitted black suit, a white shirt with black trousers and a red tie. He wore black sunglasses even though it was raining and the windows of his Mercedes were tinted black. His shoes were obviously tailored, most likely Italian, and they made a light clicking noise on the pavement as if they were made for dancing, not walking, in. Sophie only realised that she was staring when the well-dressed man pointed to her, not the rubbish around her, the rotting McDonalds food, but at her, and said something to the doorman. He must have said something funny, because the doorman laughed and nodded. Her stomach rumbled like the thunder above and she prayed that the man in the suit could not hear it. He stopped in front of where she sat, politely ignoring the commercial waste around her, and stretched an arm for her to take. He seemed almost puzzled as to why a girl as young, and as pretty, as she was, was alone in a pile of rubbish. Sophie took his hand and let him help her to her feet. Her legs ached from being crouched in one position for such a long time; they clicked and her muscles felt raw. She wobbled but he caught her, his arm suddenly righting her. The man looked her over, smiling in a way that caused her heart to beat fast; there was something strange about the way he looked down at her, like she was a piece of meat: was he dangerous? Bad for her health? The rubbish she had been squatting in was worse, surly. He led her to his car and helped her in the front passenger seat of his car. The heating was flowing nicely out of the vents on the dashboard and she instantly felt better. Something about this car made her feel better; the smell, which came from the cream leather, certainly helped. She began to think that her luck was finally starting to look up. He was silent as he himself got into the driver's seat. Sophie didn't like the way his eyes fell on her, it was like he was sizing her up. In fact, the whole drive to his apartment was quiet, silent even. She dared not break this silence, why should she when this man was helping her? Why should she ruin this? Fortunately, he was the one to speak, "I've been waiting a long time for you," he said simply, grinning in a way that scared her a little, "You have no idea." he continued slyly. What did he mean by this? What could he mean by what he had just said? Sophie fought back a shudder. He parked his car outside a building and got out. He walked around to her side so that he could open the door for her. Sophie didn't understand any of this: he couldn't keep her here, she had a husband who was very sick back at the ally which he had ‘saved her from. He couldn't stop her from going back, he couldn't. And yet she knew that he could. He knew he could. He took her to his apartment, on the sixth floor of a new apartment building. He said that they would take the stairs instead of the lift; she got the impression by the way that he said ‘"It's healthy to work your body"' that he just wanted to see her work. Sophie knew that she couldn't argue with him, she couldn't because a part of her knew that she had better not argue with a man that was apparently willing to let her live in a nice clean apartment. He began to change when the heavy door to the apartment was closed and she would be defenceless against his attack. "The homeless," the now laughing man said, in an exasperated sigh, "Willing to trust anyone who offers them a place to stay." he looked at her seriously, his smile disappeared. It was only then that Sophie truly began fearing that I'd done something foolish. "What do you mean?" He lowered his head slightly and began to creep towards her, his muscles big and strong -looking beneath his olive skin. She realised then that this was all a trap, her faux pas... The next two days were hellish for Sophie, she wanted so much to go back to her trash heap of a home, but she knew that Malcolm wouldn't allow her from the desk which sat in the corner of a long room. She was to do all of his paperwork so he wouldn't have to. "You do this for me," Malcolm sneered, his eyes burning her, "and I might let you rest." Sophie nodded furiously, rest, oh what a treat, to be sure! "If you do not do this little task for me, I will make you sorry that you ever came here, got it sweetheart?" he winked at her suggestivly and bent down to the floor. "What are you doing?" she asked, incredulous while still fearful. "I don't want you running out on me, my dear." He grinned as he took a pair of red fluffy had cuffs from his pocket, he took her ankles and brought each to the mouth of each cuff, "I cannot have you running off anywhere can I?" Sophie froze, considering the possible reasons for these...
This was alittle extreme, she thought to herself as she scratched her ankles till they were red and raw; the shackles around them irritated her skin to no end, but she could hardly ask for hypoallergenic ones, could she? Malcom had said that she had promiced to work for him, but she had never uttered such a sentence. He was playing a game which only one of them could ever win.
Sophie Smith groaned quietly as yet another pile of paper-work found itself on her wooden desk; was all this paper work really necessary for the future of the company, or did her boss just want to see her work? "Get to work." Her capter, Malcolm, ordered as soon as she stopped to take a breath, as if she had not done a single piece of work all day, perhaps he should consider that she was a real person, that this was an easy mistake to make when her desk was littered with forms and spreadsheets she had not yet seen? Sophie was used to Malcolm's attitude towards her and so she was barely surprised that he could be so cruel, "I haven't finished the last pile you gave me." she mumbled in the way of an explanation, ashamed and scared. Sophie was frightened of Malcolm and what he did to her whenever he had the chance; he abused his power over her in the most extreme ways and had too much pleasure out of seeing her squirm. His close proximity to her made Sophie frightened; he smiled when he saw her sweating. Malcolm smiled as if she had just told him a joke that he had found particularly hilarious, "What kind of an excuse is that?" he asked mockingly, playing with a loose strand of hair that had fallen from Sophie's otherwise perfect tight bun behind her unpierced ear, his touch sent a shiver down her spine: she froze in place, like a statue or a portrait, frozen until the artist finished his work. This pause unnerved Sophie more than she let on, whatever her boss was trying to do to her this time, she knew that she had to give something up in return for him to leave her alone... so she could concentrate once more on her work... get him away from her... She took her hair down and positioned herself so that she was in easy reach of Malcolm's grubby fingers; there was no use in trying to escape him now, not when she knew that he was the one with power. He smiled and took her in his arms, imprisoning her with his eyes. "Please stop," she mumbled through numb lips, her hands shook with fright as Malcolm kissed her neck with such passion that anyone observing this attack would label him as disturbed, "please..." Sophie could feel his hands on her stomach; she flinched and searched the desk's surface for something to hit her tormentor with. He saw what she was doing, chuckled, and bit the bottom of her neck, near her shaking shoulders. She yelped and pulled her arm back so she could pry his pointed teeth from where they had broken through the skin, drawing blood. This did no good, however, as he only bit harder and held her face in his cool hands. When Sophie looked up at Malcolm blood covered mouth, his jagged teeth seemed even more menacing; he was licking her neck and moaning quietly until, that is, she took a step backward, out of his clutches, a growl escaped from his heaving chest. "What!?" he demanded, cornering her once more. When he spoke again, his voice was softer and quieter; "You want to work here, right?" he peered down at her and moved his hand so that he could reach up under her skirt, "work for me." he breathed whilst the passion became more evident in his voice. "Let me go!" she growled, suddenly regaining her willingness to fight, "Let me..." this time Malcolm did not let her finish the sentence. Sophie cried out in pain as he began to thrust a small pocket knife in and out of her stomach, kissing her passionately as he tried to smother her screams.
Copyright 2008 Jessica |
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| Last Updated ( Tuesday, 15 July 2008 ) |
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