Seduced in the Dark
Read Seduced in the Dark Online
Authors: Cj Roberts
Tags: #Bdsm, #captive, #cj roberts, #captive in the dark
Copyright © 2012 CJ Roberts
All rights reserved.
eBook Edition License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal
enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to
others unless a separate copy has been purchased. Thank you for
respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as
real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or
persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright
©
2012 CJ
Roberts, Neurotica Books
www.aboutcjroberts.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may
be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written
permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in
critical articles and reviews.
Photo credit: Kurt Paris
Cover design: Pixel Mischief
www.facebook.com/PixelMischiefDesign
Edited by: K.A. Ekvall, S. Stevenson, A.
Mennie, J. Aspinall, and Y. Diaz
A Note to the Reader
If you’re reading this and you haven’t read
Captive in the Dark
, turn back! You’ll be lost.
For the rest of you: Hello again, I’m glad
you decided to continue this journey with me. As of July 2012,
Captive in the Dark
has sold over 10,000 copies. That’s
incredible! It’s a goal I never thought I would reach, and
honestly, I’ve been humbled by all of you.
You’ve made my dream come true.
I have faced adversity. I have had my share
of rejection and heartbreak. I won’t say it’s all been worth it;
there are some things I would give anything to undo. However,
looking forward, I can honestly tell you: I have never had more
hope.
Thank you.
“
I am thankful to all those who
said ‘No’ to me. It’s because of them, I did it myself.”
–
Albert Einstein
My daughter. This book took many months to
write. There were days I couldn’t play. There were nights I
couldn’t tuck you in. You’re too young to understand why mommy had
to work, but you forgave me anyway. Your love has changed me
forever, and I will always aspire to be worthy of you. You are my
legacy.
My husband. There are times when I try to
express how much I love you, but words fail me. You’re a part of my
soul and I cannot imagine my life without you in it. Suffice to
say, if you ever leave me – I’m going with you.
My mom. When I think about what it means to
be strong; I think of you. Thank you for never giving up. I know I
wouldn't be a fraction of who I am without the love and support you
give me. You're my inspiration.
M. McCarthy. Keep writing, little sister.
Your day is coming. I love you.
K.A. Ekvall. You kick my ass girl and I love
you for it. I can’t wait to return the favor, so please, write!
A. Mennie. A compliment from you is like rain
in the desert: rare and precious. Thanks for believing in me.
M. Suarez. You had me at ‘I read
Captive
in the Dark
as a result of losing a bet’.
My brother, Scott. Thanks for the amazing
trailers, little brother. This
almost
makes up for all the
spankings I took because of you as a kid. I love you. ;)
Pixel Mischief. You’re
knowledge of graphic design transmogrification is only
outmatched by your zest for kung-fu treachery!
R. Welborn, Y. Diaz, and J.
Aspinall. I can never say thank you enough for the love and support
you’ve given me. You have catapulted my hobby into a career. The
friendship that has blossomed between us is one I hope to continue
to nurture in the years to come.
Rilee James. What can I
say, I f**king love you. Someday, we’re going to turn the camera on
and the world will never be the same.
Lance Yellowrobe, and
Johnny Osborne. With friends like you, I never know where my
husband is, LOL! Love you guys.
These blogs:
S
amsAwesomness.blogspot.com, TotallyBookedBlog.com,
Maryse.Net, you have been instrumental to my success and you
deserve every follower you’ve earned!
Independent Authors. When
the publishers won’t have us, we have the fans. Special thanks to
Shira Anthony, Anthony Beal, Daisy Dunn, Rachel Firasek, Colleen
Hoover, Sonny Garrett, Tina Reber, and K. Rowe.
Vino 100/The Tinderbox,
Rapid City. Thanks for the good times, the great conversations, and
the endless supply of quality booze.
Table of
Contents
“
I’ve been doing this a long time –
manipulating people to get my way. That’s why you think you love
me. Because I’ve broken you down and built you back up to believe
it. It wasn’t an accident. Once you leave this behind…you’ll see
that.” – Caleb
Sunday, Aug 30, 2009
Day 2:
Vivisected.
It’s the only word I can
think of to describe how I’m feeling – vivisected. As though
someone has cut me open with a scalpel, the pain not sinking in
until the flesh begins to separate and my blood bubbles out. I can
hear the crack as my ribs are flayed open. Slowly, my organs, wet
and sticky, are pulled out of me one at a time. Until I am hollow.
Hollow and yet, in excruciating pain – still alive. Still.
Alive.
Above me, there are sterile and industrial
fluorescent lights. One of the bulbs is threatening to go out and
it flickers, buzzes, and struggles to stay alive. I’ve been
transfixed by its Morse code for the last hour.
On-off-buzz-buzz-on-off.
My eyes hurt. I keep staring.
Following along with my own Morse code:
Don’t think about him.
Don’t think about him. Caleb. Don’t think about him.
Somewhere, I’m being watched. There’s always
someone here. There’s someone to tug on my various cables. One to
watch my heart, another my breathing, one to keep me numb.
Don’t
think about him.
Cables. They extend from my hand, where I
receive my liquids and my drugs. They wind from my chest to monitor
the beating of my heart. Sometimes I hold my breath, just to see if
it will stop. Instead, it beats harder and faster in my chest and I
gasp for breath.
Buzzzzz-on-off.
There’s someone who tries to feed me. She
tells me her name, but I don’t care. She doesn’t matter. No one
does. Nothing really matters. She asks me my name as though her
kindness and gentleness will move me to speak. I never answer. I
never eat.
My name is Kitten and my master is gone.
What could possibly be more important?
In the corner of my mind, I see him,
watching me in the shadows. “Do you really think begging is going
to work?” asks Ghost Caleb. He smiles.
I cry. Loud, horrible, sounds come out of
me, so violent they shake my whole body. I can’t make it stop. I
want Caleb. I get drugs instead. The food comes through a tube
while I sleep.
There’s always someone watching.
Always.
I want to leave this place. There’s nothing
wrong with me. If Caleb were here, I’d walk out of this place,
happy, smiling and complete. But he’s gone. And they won’t let me
grieve for him in peace.
***
Day 3:
I close my eyes and open them slowly. Caleb
is standing over me. My heart races and tears of pure joy flood my
eyes. He’s finally here. He’s finally come for me. His face is
warm, his smile broad. There is a familiar tilt to his lips and I
know he’s thinking something naughty.
A familiar tingle spreads throughout my
belly and creeps down toward my pussy making it swell and throb. I
haven’t had an orgasm in days and I’ve become very accustomed to
them.
“Should I let you go? You look so sexy when
you’re tied down,” he says through a smile.
“I missed you,” I try to say. My mouth is
unbelievably dry. My tongue feels heavy and dead in my mouth. My
lips seem to have fared no better. They are chapped and when I
scrape my tongue over my bottom lip, I can’t help but think of
sandpaper.
The tube they have been using to feed me is
crammed up my left nostril and fed down the back of my throat. It
itches. I can’t scratch it. It hurts. I can’t shake it free. I feel
it every time I swallow and it tastes of antiseptic.
“I’m sorry,” Caleb says.
“For what?” I whisper. I want him to tell me
he’s sorry for not telling me sooner…that he loves me.
“For the restraints,” he says.
I frown. He loves restraints.
“As soon as we can be sure of your mental
state, we can remove them.”
This is wrong. Really wrong.
It’s the drugs.
“Do you know why you’re here, Olivia?” a
woman asks, softly.
I am not Olivia. I’m not that girl
anymore.
“I’m Dr. Janice Sloan. I’m a forensic social
worker for the Federal Bureau of Investigation,” she says, “The
police were able to identify you from your missing person’s report.
Your friend Nicole reported your abduction. We’ve been looking for
you. Your mother has been very worried.”
I’m tempted to speak, so I can tell her to
shut the fuck up. I can practically feel my skin crawling.
Stop!
Stop talking to me.
But she won’t. There will be more
questions, the same questions, and this time I might have to answer
them. I know it’s the only way they’ll let me go. They keep me
strapped down and pumped full of drugs; they say I tried to hurt my
nurse. I tell them they tried to hurt me first. I never asked to be
brought to the hospital. The blood wasn’t mine and the original
owner wouldn’t miss it. I was fairly certain he was dead. I should
know – I killed him.
“I know this can’t be easy for you. What
you’ve been through…” I hear her swallow. “I can’t imagine it,” she
continues. It reeks of pity and I don’t want it. Not from her. She
reaches her hand out to touch mine and I instantly recoil. The
harsh clang of my hands smacking against the railing of my bed is
like a threat of violence. I am more than willing to inflict
violence if she tries to touch me again.
She holds up both her hands and steps away.
My breathing begins to settle and the black ring surrounding my
vision dissipates, until the world is once again in high
definition, color. Now that she has drawn my attention, I notice
she isn’t alone. There is a man with her. He cocks his head and
stares at me like I am a riddle he wants to solve. The look is
heartbreakingly familiar.
I roll my head toward the window, staring at
the light filtering through the horizontal blinds. My stomach
clenches.
Caleb.
His name whispers through my mind. He used
to look at me that way. I wonder why, since he seemed so capable of
reading my mind. My body aches. I miss him. I miss him so much. I
feel tears again, sliding down the corners of my eyes.
Dr. Sloan, doesn’t relent, “How are you
feeling? I’ve been briefed by the social worker who was present
during your initial exam, as well as the events witnessed by the
Laredo Police Department.”