Ripples

  She did as he said, and without instructions, she rested her arms at her side, opened her fists, and turned her palms up.

  “Very good. Now tell me, which is a more comfortable position, standing or kneeling?”

  She swallowed. “Standing. The floor is hard.”

  “You didn't turn when I told you to turn. Where will you be the next time I enter?”

  God, she hated this man. She also hated kneeling. “I’ll be standing where you said...” Her heart ached, but the words could save her this humiliation. “...how you said.”

  Dexter nodded. “Good girl, but no. In the future, yes, but not next time.”

  Her eyes opened wide.

  “I promised you punishment. This is it. You'll remain as you are.” He looked up at the window, at the camera. “You already know that I can watch you. Don't move, shift, or so much as readjust your pretty pink pussy. If you do, your next punishment will be worse, and the next one even worse, until it's your blood I taste instead of your tears.”

  Her entire body clenched. He couldn't possibly mean what he was saying. The concrete dug into her knees as her toes bent uncomfortably. She couldn't imagine staying this way. “How long?”

  Her stomach again rumbled.

  Instead of answering, as if spurred on by the audible sound of her hunger, Dexter smiled and stood. “I almost forgot.”

  The buzz filled the air as he walked behind her. She was facing the bed, but the warm air entering the room told her the door was open and that it was warmer beyond the doorway. If only she could turn and look, but just as quickly, Dexter was back, carrying a tray.

  “I'd planned to discuss so much more, my expectations and rules for our relationship. I'd planned to do that over coffee and pastries. They really do make amazing baked goods here. The Sachertorte is my favorite.” He removed the cloth napkin, uncovering a tray.

  The aroma of coffee and rum-infused cake replaced the musty air. Like Pavlov's dog, her mouth watered and fingers twitched.

  Dexter set the tray on the bed, turned over one of the cups and poured rich, warm coffee from the decanter. Bringing the cup to his lips, he hummed. “It's too hot to drink right now, but the mug feels nice and warm.” He placed the mug on the tray. The plate before her was filled with the famous Austrian cake.

  Did that mean they were in Austria? Or did they serve that in Germany?

  Natalie couldn't think as her lips parted in a silent plea, and her fingers ached to touch the warmth of the cup.

  “I had plans, bug. Plans that you decided weren't to your liking. Plans you sabotaged by disobeying.” He poured the second mug. “This would have been yours.” He shrugged. “I suppose technically it still is.”

  Her heart raced. Yes, even coffee would help her hunger.

  He placed the full mug on the tray. “Good girls get rewards. Bad girls are punished. Don't move, and don't even think about touching this tray. You didn't earn it.”

  The emptiness in her stomach spread to her chest, a defeat so overwhelming that she made no attempt to stop the new stream of tears. This was some sick kind of torture.

  What could he do that would be worse? Whatever it was, it couldn't be as bad as starving on the cold floor, could it?

  Though her body didn’t move, her eyes followed his.

  “Whatever you're thinking,” he said, “I promise your imagination can't begin to conjure the possibilities.” He leaned down and kissed the top of her hair. “Don't test me. Bugs can be squished.” He ground the toe of his boot into the floor and then moved it toward her knees, spreading them even wider, exposing her core and causing her thighs to ache. “I'll be watching.”

  His steps reverberated through the cool air until she couldn’t see him anymore. There was another buzz, a gust of warm air, and the closing of the door.

  This can't be happening. This can't be real.

  Her eyes closed. Perhaps she could forget about the tray, but it was impossible while the scrumptious aroma surrounded her. Seeing it within her reach was worse than not having it. With each passing minute, her toes ached more and more. Even her thighs called out in pain.

  Perhaps it was hunger, perhaps the effect of the drug, but as time passed, her head began to bob, to fall forward, as her eyes fought to stay open. Each time it fell, she'd pull it back. Through it all, her neck and shoulders screamed out as muscles fought to maintain her position. No longer could she feel her extremities. The tingly sensation had passed; now there was only heavy nothingness.

  Natalie didn't know how long she'd been there. There was no way to measure time.

  She assessed the clues. The light through the window was now brighter. The coffee was no longer warm as no steam came from the dark, rich liquid. Though she hadn't drunk anything, her bladder again felt full.

  Chapter 10

  Have patience. All things are difficult

  before they become easy. ~ Saadi

  Had he expected this to be easy?

  As Dexter made his way out of the concrete suite, his mind battled between anger—that things hadn’t gone as he’d planned—and satisfaction—that she was now his. He had her. The months—no, years—spent bringing his plan to life had paid off.

  Natalie Rawlings now belonged to him.

  He hadn’t known in the beginning that she was the completion of the prophecy, the one set in motion before both of their births, yet with patience and observation it became clear. How many times had he sat outside the fringe and watched her interact with others? It was via both in person and surveillance. In person had been the hardest. Not because he was concerned he’d be caught. Hell, he knew her security team by sight and that she didn’t like to stay under their watchful eyes.

  It had been difficult because she was there within reach, and yet he couldn’t touch her.

  Everything was different now.

  From Natalie’s interaction with her family to her friends, Dexter saw in her the qualities he wanted and needed. She wasn’t like many of the other women he encountered. There was an element of submission that perhaps even Natalie didn’t realize she possessed. It was in her, part of her, and he would nurture those needs.

  Yes, one day she’d be his queen and his legal wife. He was certain of that.

  She would also be the opposite: his slave, to command, praise, and punish.

  The way he saw it, what he was giving her and would be teaching her was a gift. Natalie would learn to accept that there was no greater joy than to be everything to the man who loved her.

  Certainly, she’d experienced pleasing a man.

  Dexter had seen the way some of the young men at Harvard had looked at her. He’d sat a few tables away as she went on dates. Of course, he couldn’t follow them back to the dorms, but he knew how young women were these days and pleasing people was in Natalie’s nature.

  He’d be lying if he didn’t admit that it bothered him that he wouldn’t be the first man to have her, but the reassurance that he would be the last was the fuel that powered his obsession.

  Natalie Rawlings would kneel before him willingly, and he’d reward her submission with both pain and pleasure, the two contrasting elements that when combined were the yin and yang that they both needed. If she hadn’t learned that yet, he would enjoy teaching her.

  He’d been honest when he’d told her that he didn’t intend to separate her from her family forever. No, one day the mighty Anthony and Claire Rawlings would happily invite him into their home and lives, where he should have already been.

  His plan was perfect. Dexter had thought of everything—except the human element of incompetence. He didn’t tolerate ineptitude in himself. He surely didn’t accept it in others.

  Diane Yates, the woman he hired to be Natalie on the plane and in the airport, the one who went through customs, performed perfectly until she didn’t. Her blunder almost ruined everything.

  “Herr Smithers,” the house manager said, as Dexter entered the main level of the villa.

  “Frau Schmi
tt.”

  “Sir, is there anything I can get you? Is everything all right?” Her words were in German, a language that Dexter had mastered years before.

  Was everything all right?

  The answer was yes—and no.

  Dexter answered in impeccable German, speaking as a local, not the foreigner he was. “Yes, everything is all right. However, I was going to eat after I used the gym. I went downstairs and left the Sachertorte there. Bring me more to this office.”

  As he spoke he opened the massive door to the palatial office that was as different from Natalie’s suite as night was from day. Thick, rich carpets in shades of gold and red covered the floor. Stately ornate woodwork decorated the walls, surrounded the windows, and lined the bookcases. The draperies were heavy, framing the glass panes that looked out onto the snow-covered land.

  His connection to this villa was rather complicated as it had belonged to his father’s first wife’s family. It was her last name that the locals knew. When she passed away, it went to Dexter’s father. Though even her last name was Smithers when she inherited it, the nearby townspeople still referred to it as the Becker home—the Beckers had been established here for so long. The staff he employed, which was a skeleton crew compared to when his parents were alive, knew him as Smithers. It was the anonymity with others that made this the perfect location for Natalie’s transition from Rawlings princess to Smithers queen.

  “Yes, sir, right away. Would you also like some coffee?”

  “Yes.” His answer wasn’t his first concern as he brought his computer to life, seeing the small image in the corner of Natalie on her knees as he’d left her. A smile came to his face.

  Despite the serious fuck-up of Diane’s and their resources, Natalie’s family wouldn’t find her, not until he was ready.

  “Sir, do you want me to retrieve the tray from earlier?”

  He’d made the rules to the staff clear. The lower level was his and it was off-limits. More than likely, they wouldn’t find his hidden corridor behind a false panel in the well-appointed library. However, he didn’t intend to take that chance.

  “No. Don’t bother. I’ll bring it up later.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  As Frau Schmitt hurried away to fetch his food, he settled back in the large leather chair. While watching his prize, his queen, his student, Dexter dialed Diane’s number on his untraceable phone.

  He was calling hers, the one he’d purchased. If she knew what was good for her, she’d disposed of Natalie’s phone as he’d instructed.

  “Mr. Sawyer?” Dexter hadn’t told Diane his real name. It was merely another step toward keeping his prize. Even a well-paid resource could become a liability.

  “Diane, tell me the phone is no longer with you.”

  “Yes, sir, I did as you instructed. I’m so sorry that I answered. It was that it rang right after I sent the text you told me to send...”

  Dexter shook his head. Incompetence. He’d already heard her excuses. He didn’t have the patience to hear them again. “Have you retrieved the luggage?”

  “Yes, sir, both bags.”

  “Dispose of the suitcases as we discussed. The contents need to be donated and distributed in the locations I gave you. Keep me abreast of your progress and your payments will appear in your account. No sooner or later. The schedule is not flexible.”

  “Yes, sir. I know. I have your instructions.”

  “Go to Zugspitze after you make the withdrawal and then wait for my call.”

  Without waiting for her response, Dexter disconnected the call as a knock echoed from his office door.

  “Herr Smithers, I have your breakfast.”

  Dexter took one last look at Natalie on his screen. If the time on the clock hadn’t changed, he could assume it was a still picture, not live feed. She hadn’t moved.

  His smile bloomed.

  Her father’s determination and her mother’s submission.

  It was the perfect combination.

  His cock hardened as his mind filled with the possibilities of things he could do to his queen. Him and no one else. Soon she’d be satisfying his every desire.

  Anticipation filled his circulation. The fun was about to begin, but first he’d let her endure his punishment. What he had in mind was a marathon, not a sprint. This wouldn’t be the last time he punished his bug. No. He’d also reward her obedience. One day she’d beg for what only he could give to her.

  Changing the screen on his computer, he readjusted himself and answered Frau Schmitt, “Come in.”

  Yes. Natalie wasn’t the only one to be hungry. However, she was the only one who needed to wait to eat.

  “Frau, have the cook complete the menu I laid out, and then the staff may be dismissed until tomorrow morning.”

  “Herr, we can stay.”

  He feigned a smile. “I’m a single man on my own. I don’t need around-the-clock staffing.”

  “It is—”

  He waved his hand. “Frau, your income will not change. Enjoy the reprieve while I’m here. I came here for solitude.”

  She nodded. “Thank you.”

  Chapter 11

  Some things are so unexpected

  that no one is prepared for them. ~ Leo Rosten

  Natalie talked to herself throughout the punishment or whatever it was—Dexter's power trip. She didn't do it audibly: he could see her through his little blinking camera. It was possible he could also hear. Instead, she spoke in her mind. The process helped her stay awake. Fainting was always an option; it would lessen the pain from the floor and her position, but then what?

  What would he do?

  He’d told her not to even try to contemplate the possibilities. Truly she couldn’t let her mind go there. Instead, she concentrated on what she would do.

  She wouldn’t faint. She wouldn’t beg. She’d survive. She’d do it without giving him another reason to punish her or exert whatever power he thought he possessed. If he were cold and uncaring to her, she would be the same to him. She would fight his ice with ice, his commands head-on. Somehow she would convince him that he could trust her, and then the first time she finally found herself on the other side of the door, back in the sunlight, she'd run.

  It didn’t even matter where they were. No matter where he had her, what country, there had to be a US embassy. Her father was wealthy and influential. Anthony Rawlings had friends and business associates all over the world. They may not be the type of friends he invited to his home for a barbeque; nevertheless, they were the type of friends who would come when he called. Her father would move heaven and hell for her. Of that, she had no doubt.

  Natalie wouldn't be forgotten or allowed to disappear simply because she supposedly decided not to join her family. No matter who that other woman was, Dexter's plan was flawed. Natalie’s immediate family may be in Nice, but that didn't mean that her father didn't have connections. The abrupt change in her plans would serve as a red flag signaling her family’s security—Phil’s people—to track the other Natalie. Once it was discovered that the other woman was an imposter, it would be all over the international channels: Natalie Rawlings was missing.

  As time passed, the pain from her position subsided until she felt nothing at all. Her extremities lost feeling, the needled sense of having fallen asleep morphing into nothing at all. To keep her mind moving, she'd contemplated her situation. In hindsight, it was clear that she’d been Dexter’s target all along.

  But why?

  What was Dexter's motivation?

  Since she was naked, sitting—no, make that kneeling—on a concrete floor in basically a dungeon, the sexual component was obvious, but there had to be more. He could have kidnapped any woman, but he didn’t. He’d set his sights on her. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the more was money. Anthony and Claire Rawlings's daughter was a valuable commodity.

  All of her life her parents had preached caution and safety. The cameras and bodyguards seemed like second nature while at t
he same time felt like overkill. Natalie had never in twenty years seen or felt a threat. Had there been some and Phil's team had thwarted them? Had everyone in her father's world kept the specifics away from her to protect her?

  What had that false sense of security cost her?

  If only she’d flown to Nice on a Rawlings plane as her mother wanted.

  Her regret was stifling, compressing her soul as tears continued to flow.

  Natalie recalled times when she'd pondered a life away from the watchful eyes of her father's security. It wasn't that the security bothered her. Knowing she was watched hadn't changed her plans or behavior, because it always was. Yet there'd been a part of her that longed for a simpler life than living up to the high standard set by Nichol.

  Getting away from the Rawlings expectations had sounded like a dream. If this was the fulfillment of that dream, the reality was a nightmare. The realization that this was truly happening—the nudity, the stark cell, the now-cold drink and food that were forbidden yet close enough to touch—triggered more tears. Each salty droplet burnt a trail down her cheeks, dripping off her jaw and landing in a warm splash on her cold breasts. Each tear took a piece of her soul until the pieces begged for glue—for a way to come back together.

  She wouldn’t give up. Natalie’s hope was her knowledge of and confidence in her family. The Rawlingses would never hesitate to monetarily pay for her return. It was her goal to convince Dexter that they'd pay more if she were returned unharmed—unsoiled, so to speak.

  Buzz.

  Natalie's chin snapped upward. Despite her crying, her tears were now mostly dry, and her nose had ceased to run. Her plan was in place. She'd had her breakdown. Now it was time to appear strong and indifferent, the same way he appeared. If Dexter wanted to believe she would play his sick game, she'd let him.