Page 22

Celeste

Panic Room by Au/Ra

A few weeks later

“ Y ou need to make sure the dough stays cool, dear, or it won’t laminate and the layers won’t turn out,” the sweet old lady says as she folds up my mess of pastry neatly and shuts it back in the refrigerator.

Mrs. Prichett is a saint. She’s literally the nicest woman that I have ever talked to. I’m fairly certain she’s in her late sixties, even though we’ve never discussed her age. Her gray curls are always swept into a tidy bun on the top of her head, and her blue eyes sparkle with delight every time she sees me. It’s like having a grandmother, but one who’s not a fucking judgmental bitch that believes you need the lord’s law beaten into you.

“Okay, so refrigerate again, then roll out?” I confirm as I wash the pasty butter and flour goop from my fingers.

She plants a sweet kiss on my cheek. “Then put it in the tin, add the filling, and bake,” she confirms for what is probably the thousandth time.

I just don’t want to mess this up. I’ve never made a pie on my own before and despite myself, I really want to impress Luke. I know I don’t need to impress him, I’m his damn captive after all, but I want to impress him. When he looks at me with a certain glint in his eye and calls me his good girl … well, it does things to my insides.

“Can I make you a cup of tea before you go?” I ask as I move to fill the kettle.

“That’d be lovely, dear,” my only friend says before sitting with an audible sigh.

I place tea bags inside two mugs and pour the boiling water over the top before bringing the saucers to the table. We sit in comfortable silence for a moment and enjoy the late morning light streaming in through the large windows. The house might be old and gothic but it still manages to get a good amount of natural light through the expansive windows. The branches of the mature trees that surround the house cast dancing shadows across the marble countertops. Living here is almost like living in an antique treehouse. I couldn’t have picked a better house if I’d tried.

“Can I ask you something?” I finally ask Mrs. Prichett.

“Of course, dear.” Her voice is warm and soothing. She reminds me of a librarian I had when I was in elementary school.

School was always a reprieve for me as a child; a calming place where I could be free from the oppressive darkness at home. It was a place where I could just be a carefree kid. And our school librarian, Mrs. Briggs, was always so kind to me. She’d let me stay late and read books after hours to avoid going home. I think she knew that I was trying to hide from my own household but she never said anything. She just left me in peace, allowing me to escape reality, even for a moment, in the pages of a book. That’s how Mrs. Prichett is—she’s not nosy but she understands what’s going on in this house. She’s kind and understanding without prying.

“You must know that something is off here…” I trail off, gauging her reaction but she gives me nothing. She simply stares down at her tea. “Why haven’t you offered to help me?” I finish on almost a whisper.

There’s a long pause. We both pull the steeping bags from the warm liquid and sip our tea.

“Do you need help?” she finally asks.

I’m not sure how to respond.

“Listen, my dear,” her hand lands on top of mine, the warmth immediately comforting me. “Luke is like my son. I’ve been looking after him since he was a very young man. I know he’s not a saint. I’m not blind. But he’s not a bad man. Whatever he’s done, there must have been a good reason for it.”

Is there a good reason for me being here? Is everything he’s done to me justified? Is he a good man wearing the mask of a devil, or a devil disguised as a man?

“He kidnapped me,” I finally respond, not sure what else there is to say.

Her soft gaze searches mine for a moment before she smiles sweetly. “The door isn’t locked, dear. The only thing keeping you here is yourself.”

She’s not wrong. The doors have never been locked. I’m not chained and jailed. At least, not most days. The keys to the cars in the garage are hanging on a hook on the wall behind Mrs. Prichett’s head. I could easily run right now and never look back.

So why am I still here?

The truth is, the thought of leaving racks me with anxiety. I may not have come here of my own free will, but each day I spend here with Luke is better than the day before. This has become my home. I’m happy here.

He may wear the mask of a devil, but maybe Luke is my own fucked up brand of a knight in shining armor.

I am bored as fuck. Like most days, I woke up surrounded by warmth and comfort. Luke’s hard body was wrapped around me, holding me possessively against him while we slept. He can never not be touching me while we’re in bed—whether it’s his arms wrapped around my core, his hand holding mine, his cock warming inside my pussy, he has to be touching me in some way always . At first it made me mildly anxious—this possessive obsession of his. But now, it’s comforting. His woodsy scent and warmth makes me feel safe and secure. It’s nice to wake up feeling good.

It’s not something I’m used to, but I like it.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the conversation I had with Mrs. Prichett the other day. Do I love that Luke and his friend kidnapped me, used me, and then tried to murder me as some type of twisted revenge scheme? No . Do I enjoy living with Luke? Yes . Do I enjoy the freedom of not having to worry and plan and work every second of every day? Absolutely. Am I starting to fall for him? I’m still not sure.

Living here with him is like being on vacation all the time. There’s no one that needs me or my time. I don’t have to worry about bills or money. There’s no anxiety racking through me daily about my overly religious parents showing up in my life to drag me back to the misogynistic hell I was raised in. I haven’t had a single panic attack since coming here. The last time I was panic attack free for this long was when I was a kid. I feel lighter than I have in longer than I can remember. Something about submitting to my master, letting him own me—physically and mentally, has allowed me to escape the heavy weights of my constant worrying and anxiety. There was one day early on when I felt a panic attack looming, but Luke noticed and put me in my sub space, allowing him to take all the control and worry away from me. By the time he was done with me, I was too exhausted to have any suffocating anxiety left in my mind or body. He has set me free. Here, I am just his perfect little pet. And that suits me just fine.

The only thing I miss about my old life is Liv. I miss her smile and her laughter. I miss her taste and the way her lips felt on mine. I miss our coffee dates and the way my insides would twist as she watched me with a heated stare while I licked the sweetened frothed foam from my fingers. I miss the way she fucked me. She’s possessive, like Luke, but it’s somehow softer, gentler . I miss her lithe little fingers playing my body like a fucking instrument. I just miss being with her. Part of me wants to call her or text her, but I know I can’t. In order for their revenge to work, I have to remain missing.

I’ve tried to keep busy with reading, shopping, and cleaning. I work out in the gym everyday and I’ve been learning how to cook and bake from Mrs. Prichett. The fondness between her and Luke is really sweet.

Can kidnappers be sweet?

But I’ve done all that already today; I’ve baked cookies and yet, I’m still bored. I flip through the channels on the giant television aimlessly. Nothing grabs my attention though, it’s all just mindless crap. With a sigh I turn the television off and flop my head back against the couch. My black hair falls in my face and I blow it off my forehead.

Standing, I decide to reorganize the closet. Organizing and cleaning will make me feel good, like I’ve accomplished something, right? I’m still in my spandex yoga pants and sweatshirt so I’ll need to change and look presentable before Master gets home to play with me tonight, but that won’t take me too long. He prefers I have minimal clothes on when he gets home, anyway. I’ll go organize the giant closet upstairs then get ready. Our walk-in is mostly filled with Luke’s suits and sweats but I’m slowly starting to fill it with some things of my own thanks to my rich lawyer … boyfriend? Kidnapper? Sex master?

My very own demon .

I drag my feet as I wander through the rooms, casually perusing. The walls are sparse and the decorations are impersonal. There’s nothing here that tells me much about Luke and his past. He’s told me bits and pieces—his mom was an addict, she lost custody, he went into the system and it was a shit show; he worked his way through college then law school and became the youngest partner at his firm. He’s smart, driven, and has an incredible cock. But I feel like I’m still missing something about all this. I can’t stop the nagging feeling like there’s more pieces to the puzzle of why I’m here.

My footsteps are soft on the carpeted runner as I head up the grand spiral staircase. The gothic masterpiece is definitely in rough shape but I enjoy the character and history of the space. Eventually we will turn this into a home. I can imagine kids running up and down the spiraling steps. This could absolutely be a home— my home .

It’s a weird thought. Having come from a large, very cold family that lived as part of a religious community, the idea of having a safe and happy home is an unfamiliar but very welcome idea. If I do have children, one day, I want them to grow up free and happy. My kids will have a childhood without oppressive anxiety and judgment.

Yikes, maybe I am turning into one of the Stockholm Syndrome stories you hear about if I’m contemplating kids with my kidnapper.

Just as I’m about to reach out and turn the brass knob to our primary bedroom, a small black door down the hallway catches my attention. It’s Luke’s office. At least, that’s what he says it is. He told me to keep out so I’ve never been in there. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in there. When he brings work home, he usually just spreads out on the expansive cherry wood table located in the formal dining room. But if it’s his office then there must be something in there, right?

Curiosity gets the better of me and I release the brass knob as my feet wander further down the hall. The sleek, nondescript black door is almost hidden in the shadow of the frame. Everything is so ornate, so detailed, in this home that this simple and sleek door is out of place. It’s otherness calls to me, begging me to investigate.

With one swift look around the hallway to confirm that I’m absolutely alone, I turn the knob and enter. I’m thoroughly surprised it’s not locked, but I have followed all his rules, until now that is. He must trust me. A pang of guilt hits me in the gut as I realize I’m breaking one of his rules. I really want to be his good girl, but I’m also a human, and humans are curious creatures by nature. I swiftly step through the door and close it softly behind me. I’m surprised at the room I’ve found myself in.

I expected books and files and a desk. I did not expect what looks like a security room. A whole wall of screens is on one side of the room. The opposite wall is taken up by a large closet. In the middle of the room is a table covered in computers and cords. The lights are off but the brightness from all the screens cast an eerie electronic glow on everything. This room immediately feels like someplace I’m supposed to stay away from.

Moving to the closet, I pursue the shelves. I immediately recognize the demon mask Luke wore when they used me and hunted me. But there’s other masks too. A red Ghostface one with devil horns at the top sticks out to me. I run my fingers across the smooth plastic. It’s nice, but not quite right. Then something colorful catches my eye. On a shelf in the back corner are a few purge style LED masks. There’s a blue one, a white one, and a pink one. The white one calls to me. Something about the light and dark duality feels fitting. Before I get too sucked in though, I decide to move on. Further down there’s weapons—knives, bats, brass knuckles, and a safe which I’d bet anything is full of guns.

Well this is interesting .

Turning back around, I take a look at the wall of screens. Most seem to show footage of the house. It’s a large house but the cameras seem to cover pretty much all of the rooms and the expansive land outside. There’s also footage of what appears to be a modern and sleek townhouse with no one in it. Further down the wall there’s video of a small little home.

Holy shit . That’s my house—my old house. Cameras flip through every room of my former home, including the fucking bathroom! How long had he been watching me?

Then a flash of something pink on a different screen catches my eye. I move to a series of screens in the middle and there, moving through her house looking worried, is Liv. My insides curl like something has wrapped around my intestines and constricted them. I can’t breathe as I watch her pace through her house looking nervous.

What the fuck is Liv doing on Luke’s screens?

I can’t hear anything and there’s no time stamp. Is this now? What is she doing? I need more. Hurrying to the computer screens on the table behind me I press the buttons, bringing the screens to life; the screens mirror the wall of recordings but I’m not sure how to work them. I’m pretty competent at Word and PowerPoint but that’s the extent of my technology knowledge. I begin pushing buttons, clicking, anything I can think to do. I’m desperate to see more and connect to the person I’ve felt the closest to in my life. Eventually I click something, I’m not even sure what, and the screens flicker through images rapidly. Fuck . It looks like they’re rewinding or something. Shit, how do I get it to stop? I begin clicking, pushing, hitting things again, hoping something will work. Again, I eventually hit something and the flashing images come to a stop.

Projected on the screens in front of me is Liv’s bedroom. It’s a mess, per usual. I love her but she is the messiest person I have ever met. Not like I have a ton of room to talk. Clothes and shoes are strewn across the pale carpet of her floor and the plush white duvet on her bed. It’s dark in the room so it must be evening. In the corner, movement catches my eye. A figure all in black stalks across her room. They stop occasionally to look through her things. I can’t see their face but I know that frame, that gait, that body language—it’s Luke. I’m certain of it. He moves out of frame into her closet and a moment later light filters into the room from the hallway. Liv’s hot pink curls come bombing into the room. Her shoulders are sagged like she’s exhausted. She peels her clothes from her body—exposing her tanned skin to me. My pussy throbs lightly with desire as I watch her shed her bra and panties, leaving her completely exposed. The low light glints off her nipple piercings and I can’t help but reminisce about the feeling of twirling those pretty gems around with my tongue while my girl writhes below me. I love teasing her. We both are exceptional at getting the other off.

She moves to the bathroom for a while. I sit in rapt silence, waiting to see if Luke or Liv will reemerge. When was this video taken? It can’t be live because it’s the middle of the afternoon but it appears to be night in the video. She reappears after a bit, wrapped snugly in a cute pink robe and nothing else. She messes with her phone for a bit. I can’t see what she’s doing but I’m dying to know who she’s texting. Was it me? Does she miss me?

Flopping on the bed, she pulls open the robe and I can feel my panties dampen as I watch her naked nipples peak in response to the cool air. This is so fucked up. I absolutely should not be spying on my best friend while she walks around the comfort of her own bedroom naked, and I certainly shouldn’t be getting turned on by it. And yet, I can’t stop from squeezing my thighs together as I watch her crawl to her nightstand and pull a pink toy from the drawer. She turns it on and it immediately starts writhing in her hand.

Holy shit.

Bringing my own hand to the waistband of my yoga pants, I let my fingers slide down to my heated core. I’m already soaked but as I watch Liv bring the pulsating toy to her pussy with her head thrown back and her mouth open in a moan, I cover my own hand with my desire. I rub tight circles around my hardened clit as I watch my girl fuck herself wildly. Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to be there with her.

Shoving two fingers in my tight channel, I imagine it’s her cunt I’m fucking. I picture being on my knees for her with her pussy in my face while I fuck her with my tongue and fingers. She’d praise me and tell me what a good girl I am. Something about being with her is so satisfyingly sweet. Despite the dirty things I do here with Luke, I sometimes feel like there’s something missing. There’s a history with Liv. She knows me so well that she can turn me on with a single touch. The way her fingers skim lightly across my skin, the way her curves caress mine—it’s all so addicting.

“Please, babe,” I whine in a whisper as I watch her ride the toy in her hand.

She looks so fucking gorgeous. Even through the screen I can see the way her body flushes with need as she approaches release. Fuck, she looks so good. My own pussy flutters around my fingers. I reach my other hand beneath my sweatshirt and play with my breast, twisting and rolling my nipple between my fingers. My heated breath fogs the screen as I fuck myself on my hands. Liv’s release crashes into her as her back bows off the bed and her body tightens with electric pleasure. Watching her come for herself on the screen is so satisfyingly filthy that it sends me over the edge. I silently scream into the screen as my own pleasure surges through me. I come all over my hand, covering my fingers with my own release as I watch my best friend reach the crest of her own ecstasy.

And then she’s done. She pulls the pink toy from her pussy and places it on her nightstand before turning over and falling asleep. I watch as her breathing becomes slow and steady. With a groan I pull my drenched fingers from inside my pants and wipe them on the black material. This is so wrong. I should not have done that. But just as I’m about to turn and leave to shower off, movement on the video catches my eye. A man in black exits Liv’s closet. I’m unable to pull my eyes from the illuminated screen as Luke approaches my best friend’s sleeping, half-naked form. He lays a chaste kiss on her forehead before turning and looking directly into the camera. His dark eyes narrow, staring directly at me. I jump backwards, a startled cry leaving my lips at the seemingly seeing darkness swirling in his eyes. It’s as if he knows I’m watching, knows I know where he is, and that I’ve seen what I just did.

I stumble backwards and my ass hits the table behind me. I scream and grab one of the computers before it can fall to the floor. When I look back up at the screen, Luke is gone and Liv is sleeping peacefully in bed.

Panic burns through my veins, causing my heart to beat erratically as I hurriedly leave the room. Running down the hall, I collapse into my bedroom. It’s still daylight out. There’s no way he knows, no way he could have seen me. Everything is fine. I’m fine.

But the question remains, why the fuck is my kidnapper stalking my best friend?