Bound to You

When Eliza finally came back to her senses, she was lying in a comfortable bed. She blinked her eyes a few times, trying to make out where she was. She looked around the room, waiting until her eyesight became less blurred over from sleep, and then studied her surroundings.

The walls were coal black, with a wrought iron chandelier hanging from the ceiling, complete with real candles. The bedding was silk, and a shade of green that reminded her of the eyes she’d seen the night before.

“Get up.” A voice said from one of the doorways. Eliza looked towards the voice and saw the man they’d called ‘V’ standing there, leaning in the doorway without a shirt, clad only in a pair of boxers. His jet-black hair was wet, and clung to his scalp in small bits and pieces. He was covered in colorful tattoos that Eliza hated to admire but couldn’t stop herself. The man was definitely easy on the eyes.

“Make me.” She retorted, not stopping to think that he actually could make her. The man sighed and walked over to her, yanking her arm off of the bed and pulling her up.

“There’s clothes in the closet that should fit you, so go get changed.”

“I’m fine, thanks.” She replied sarcastically. The green eyes that Eliza found stunning narrowed in anger, and his grip tightened on her arm, twisting slightly so that she was in just enough pain to make her think about complying.

“You have no choice in anything you do anymore, girl. Now do as you’re told.”

She scowled at him and yanked her arm away from his hold, walking over to the closet and looking at the clothes. She looked through them and saw that they were all very sexy clothes; most of which Eliza would classify as lingerie.

“These aren’t clothes, they’re—“

“Find one and get changed before I pick one for you.” The man cut her off. Eliza felt a sudden urge to cry but refused; she wouldn’t give in to this man and his friends. He may have her here for the time being, and she may be being held captive, but he couldn’t take her dignity or pride.

She picked the least slutty of the clothes; a tight, green and black corset paired with a miniscule black tutu. Once she’d finished getting changed into the outfit, she turned around and saw the man watching her.

“What’s your problem?” She snapped. He smirked at her.

“It looks good on you, but it’s going to look even better once I rip it off of you later. There’s a pair of stripper boots in the closet, wear them.”

“If you think you’re going to—“

The man crossed the room and walked over to her, putting on hand on her wrist and the other on her exposed thigh.

“Or,” He said, his voice dropping and his lips closer to her ear. The sound of the huskiness sent shivers down her spine, and Eliza was angry at herself that it wasn’t out of fear, but rather anticipation for what she thought was coming next. “Or, we could just stay right here in my room and I could ravish your body. Your call, but I’m assuming you don’t really want that.”

Eliza saw the lust in his eyes and knew that he wasn’t kidding. She glared at him angrily, trying to cover up her own lust, and stepped back from him.

“Fine,” She told him, her voice muted. She walked towards the closet and bent over to grab the boots, and stood straight up when she felt V’s hand smack her ass. She turned around to glare at him, and found a smirk on his face.

“You’re not in any position to be angry, bitch.” He told her, the words cold but his voice eerily calm. It annoyed her how calm he could be in this situation; did he kidnap girls a lot?

She had a thousand different comebacks, but chose not to say anything to him for fear that he would just get angrier at her. She pulled the boots on, annoyed that they were heels and looked more like something she’d find in some fetish shop.

When she was done putting the boots on, she stood up and found that she was almost the same height as V.

He didn’t say anything to her as he yanked her arm roughly, pulling her out of the room and dragging her down a long, dimly lit hallway that reminded her of something she’d see in a historical, circa-1800s house.

He stopped at a long, curved staircase, built of dark mahogany brown wood that was almost black in the dim lighting. He started descending down the staircase, and when Eliza didn’t follow him, he jerked her arm roughly, causing her to stumble. He tried to stop her from falling all the way, but only managed to stop her from falling down the last three stairs. She tumbled down the rest of them, her head hitting the steps.

The man grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet, giving her a humor-filled glare.

“Careful in those heels, Eliza. Wouldn’t want you breaking your leg now, would we?” He asked her mockingly. She glared back, hate in her amber-colored eyes.

“I wouldn’t have fallen if you hadn’t jerked my arm, you asshole.” She replied.

“You either call me Mr. V. or Master, got it?” The man asked her, twisting her arm painfully. “This is the only time you’re going to be warned. Next time, you’ll be punished.”

“Yessir.” Eliza replied vehemently, following ‘Mr. V’ through a few elaborately, dark rooms until he reached a kitchen. Unlike the rest of the rooms, the kitchen was bright, with sepia-toned walls and light, granite countertops with ample lighting. The cabinets above the counters were made of glass, and the bottom ones were solid wooden. There were two refrigerators and a chest freezer as well as two ovens and two microwaves. Whoever lived here definitely liked food.

“Sit down at the bar before I change my mind.” V told her before walking towards the closest fridge and pulling out some ingredients. Eliza did as he’d suggested, and she watched as he prepared what looked like French toast and bacon.

When he was finished cooking, he put a plate in front of her, and then walked around the bar with his own, sitting in the barstool next to her with his own plate. They ate in silence.

“Well, looks like she’s finally quit bitchin’.” A voice came from the archway between the kitchen and another room that Eliza hadn’t yet been dragged into.

“And she won’t do it again if she’s smart,” V said.

“So what’s this one’s name going to be, Vengeance?” The man asked. Eliza looked up and studied the man; he was tall, with clear blue eyes, a long face and nose with dark, crazy hair. He was pretty thin for his height, but that didn’t mean much to Eliza.

“I think I’ll keep her name. It fits her.” Vengeance replied to his friend.

“Excuse me, but where’s the bathroom?” Eliza interrupted. Both men turned and gave sharp glances at her.

“Did you have permission to speak?” Vengeance asked her quietly, his voice intense. Eliza narrowed her eyes.

“Look, Mr. V., I’m not going to ask for permission to fucking take a piss. So either tell me where the nearest bathroom in this house is, or your kitchen floor is going to have a nice, little puddle.”

The tall man started chuckling, and Vengeance narrowed his eyes. “You ask for permission to do anything in this house. That includes pissing.”

“Fine.” She replied. “I’ll just piss on the floor, then.”

Vengeance sighed, and then got up off of the stool, pulling Eliza off of it and dragging her down a short hallway towards a half-bathroom. He opened the door and pushed her into it.

“You have three minutes.” He told her, closing the door on her.

As soon as the door was closed, Eliza began looking around the room. She hadn’t really needed to use the bathroom; she was looking for a way to escape. On wall furthest away from the door, there was a small, square window with a white billowing curtain over it. Obviously the room had been decorated with a woman’s touch, but that didn’t matter right now.

She needed to get the hell out of here.

Just as she was reaching up to the window to try and open it, she screamed in surprise when she saw a face staring back at her through the glass. It was a very pissed off looking man, with blonde hair and cold brown eyes. The bathroom door swung open, and Eliza turned around to see Vengeance standing there.

Before she could say anything, Vengeance grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the room, taking her back through the kitchen and back up the mahogany stairs towards the room he had brought her out of. He tossed her onto the large bed, and glared down at her.

“Take your fucking clothes off, bitch.” He spat at her.

Eliza sat there, paralyzed in fear. She knew what was coming next, and she didn’t like the idea one bit.