Chapter Three
You lost track of time as you lay there, your body bruised, bloody, and spent. At one point you’d tried to roll over onto your back, but your ass stung so badly at the feel of the sheets against its abused flesh that you gave up on the effort. Your mind was reduced to white noise as it played over, again and again, what had just transpired.
Steve’s moans echoed in your ears, and even when you squeezed your eyes shut, you could still see his face as he came inside of you. Your pussy clenched at the memory and you let out a yelp of pain; you could still feel something trickling out of your used channel, but you knew that it was no longer his cum dripping out of you – it was blood.
The worst feeling, though, was the one of guilt that was rattling in your chest. At one point, you’d…enjoyed it. You’d wanted to find your own release with him, and even though you never achieved it, you still felt fresh tears start to fall as you were overcome with self-hatred.
Time passed by too quickly and too slowly all at once, because before you knew it, the door to your prison was once more being opened. You didn’t move when you heard Steve descending the stairs, but you could hear the rustle of shopping bags over the sound of his whistling. Once he’d set down his purchases, you heard him getting closer to you, but you still refused to so much as look his way when he sat down on the mattress next to you.
“You ok, doll?” His voice was soft, almost uncertain as he spoke to you. When you didn’t reply, he put his hand on your shoulder and turned you onto your side, but even then the only sound you made was a groan of pain.
You could see his face in this new position, and you almost felt angry at the look of concern on his face as his eyes skirted up and down your body.
“…I think I owe you an apology, hon,” he said after a long pause. “I didn’t mean to get so rough with you; even if you did deserve your punishment, that was still…well, it was intense for your first time.”
The small rebellious part of you wanted to snort at his words. Oh, you think? What gave it away, my bleeding ass or my bleeding pussy?
But you were too scared to voice those thoughts, now that you knew what this man was capable of.
With a sigh, Steve cupped your cheek in one hand, his eyes focused intently on yours.
“Let’s get you a bath, doll,” he murmured.
He stood up and leaned over the bed, maneuvering your body as if it weighed nothing as he picked you up. When his hand grazed your ass, you let out a yelp, clinging to the material of his shirt.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry,” he hurriedly apologized, adjusting you to lay more comfortably in his arms. “I know you’re sore; I got something at the store that should help with that.”
You blinked away the tears in your eyes as he started to walk towards the door on the opposite wall of the bed, and once he opened it you saw that it was a bathroom. Your eyes squinted against the glare coming off of the white tile walls and floor. In the corner, there was a large garden tub, and once Steve was standing in front of it, he gingerly set you down onto your feet.
“There you go, baby. You just stand there and wait for the tub to fill up, ok?”
You nodded shakily, keeping a close eye on him as he rolled up the sleeves of his button-up and started the water. You took the time to look around at the rest of your surroundings; next to the tub there was a modern-looking glass shower, and dotted around the room were framed drawings decorating the walls. The one above the toilet, you realized with sickening dread, was of the very bridge in Central Park where Steve had abducted you. Next to the mirror above the sink, there was one of a blue-jay singing as it perched on a branch. And above the bathtub was one of…
Your eyes widened when you realized it was a picture of you. Well, it was of your profile. In the drawing, you were sitting at a table, hunched over a book with your hair up in a messy bun. You gulped, looking between it and the man who was currently picking out a bath bomb from a glass case filled with them on a shelf next to the shower.
As if he felt you looking at him, he glanced at you over his shoulder and smiled when he saw you staring at the drawing.
“Do you like it?” he asked, finally settling on a pink bath bomb and starting to unwrap it. “I did that one about a week after I first saw you in the café on campus. I think it’s still one of my favorites I’ve done of you.”
“Th-there’s more?” you rasped. You couldn’t tell if your voice was scratching from the screaming you’d done earlier or from Steve strangling you in the park.
“Oh, yeah,” he chuckled. “I’ve tried to draw other things over the past couple of months, but nothing inspires me the way you do. Maybe I could get you to model for me sometime.” He shot you a wink with that last statement, but you just turned away, hugging yourself tightly.
When the tub was finally full, he set the bath bomb into it and walked towards you, but when your eyes widened and you started backing away from him, he stopped and sighed.
“Hon, you don’t have to be scared anymore. I love you, you know that, right?”
“Then why,” you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut as a tear escaped them, “did you hurt me?”
You jumped when Steve put his hands on your shoulders, resisting the urge to lean into him when he started massaging them gently.
“That isn’t far, doll. You were being difficult. And, I mean, you hurt me too, right? Biting me when all I wanted was a kiss? You needed to be punished; I think, deep down, you know that.”
You let out a sob, looking down at the floor and willing yourself to stop crying.
“Shh, baby, it’s ok,” Steve cooed, pulling you into a tight embrace, “I know. It’s never easy to take a punishment. But, hey.” He pulled back and tilted your face up to look at him. “I can be gentle, too. I can make you feel so good, if you let me. I can make it all better.
“C’mon, go ahead and get into the tub for me. I’ll show you.”
Not seeing any other option, you slowly walked over and lowered yourself into the tub, letting out a low hiss as the warm water hit your raw skin. Once you were fully settled, though, you couldn’t help but moan softly and let your tense muscles relax as it started soothing your wounds.
“Keep making noises like that and I might just have to join you in there,” Steve chuckled. Your eyes widened in a moment of panic, but you relaxed once more when you saw him making no moves to get in the tub with you.
No, all he did was roll his sleeves up a bit more and grab a cup from a shelf above you. Kneeling next to the tub, he gently guided you to let your head tilt back, and then the warm, soothing water was being poured over your scalp.
You closed your eyes, suddenly not caring about your nakedness in front of him, not feeling that same old spike of fear. You needed this; you needed a respite from the pain you’d just endured.
“That’s it, baby,” Steve murmured, using his nails to scratch lightly at your scalp as he started shampooing your hair. “See how nice it is when you just let me take care of you?”
You tried to tune him out as he kept murmuring soft words of encouragement, letting yourself zone out as he rinsed out your hair. You didn’t even protest when he took a sponge and started washing your body.
But when his hand started trailing lower and lower, you finally opened your eyes and grabbed onto his wrist.
“No,” you said, trying to pull his hand away from the apex of your tightly-clenched thighs. “Please, just…let me?”
Steve let out a sigh through his nose, but he relinquished the sponge to you. Nodding your thanks, you slowly opened your legs, wincing when you saw a thin ribbon of blood twist up through the water from your pussy.
“Oh, baby,” your captor sighed, moving his hands back to your shoulders to continue rubbing them. “I’m so sorry. I promise that once we start having sex more often, it won’t hurt as much. Soon, you’ll want it just as much as I do.”
With a stilted gasp you tore yourself away from him, clambering to the other side of the tub and pressing yourself against it. Steve let his head hang with disappointment, shaking it once before turning to look back up at you.
“Do you want another punishment?” he asked, the cherry-sweet tone completely gone from his voice.
Gulping, you shook your head, holding the sponge to your chest as it heaved up and down with your breathing.
“Then get back here and let me finish your bath,” he growled.
Turning away from him, you slowly, reluctantly moved back to your previous spot, gasping when you felt him tear the sponge out of your hands.
“There you go,” Steve sighed, sounding exacerbated. “I won’t warn you again, baby. Behave. I promise I’ll give you something special if you do.”
He didn’t talk anymore as he finished washing you, gesturing for you to stand up when you were all done. You hurriedly took the towel he offered you, wrapping it around yourself to provide some form of cover over your body.
“Not so fast, doll,” Steve said, turning you around to face the mirror. “Lift the towel up and bend over for me, ok?”
You stared back at him in the mirror as you complied, silently begging him not to do whatever it was he had in mind. He stepped out of the room for a moment, but when he came back he was still fully-clothed, a green bottle of aloe vera in his hand.
“This should help you feel better,” he explained, squeezing out a dollop of the gel and rubbing it into your skin.
You let out a soft sigh, grateful for the relief it brought; the stinging in your ass started to fade away as he massaged in the jelly, and when he was all done, he let you fix the towel around yourself once more.
“I’m gonna go clean up a little, now,” he told you, pushing some of your damp hair out of your face. “You do whatever you need to feel comfortable, ok? Dry your hair, put on some clothes if you really feel the need to, whatever will make you feel better.”
“Clothes?” you asked, looking around the bathroom to see if you’d missed any.
“The closet’s through the door the left of the bed when you walk out,” he instructed.
With that, he left, and once the door was finally closed you rushed to lock it behind him, even though you knew it would do nothing to stop him if he really wanted to get to you. You let yourself sink to the floor, finally letting the tears you’d been suppressing fall while trying to stay as silent as possible.
How had this happened? You’d seen all the warning signs; why hadn’t you heeded them? How would you escape this place – escape him?
You closed your eyes and pulled your knees up to your chin, trying to trample down the anxiety rapidly expanding in your chest. You were smart; you could get out of this. But you couldn’t let him get the best of you.
You tried to think back and analyze your situation from a clinical standpoint, devoid of emotion. There was only one door that led out of the room you were in, and you’d heard the jingle of keys when Steve was opening and closing it; you assumed that Steve kept those keys with him wherever he went, probably in his pocket.
So now it was a matter of getting the keys. You knew that you would only have one shot to get them; if you failed in any way in your escape attempts, Steve had said he would tie you to the bed and keep you there. If that happened, you could kiss your freedom goodbye.
Your first option was to try and be sneaky; you could wait until Steve fell asleep and try to steal them from his pocket. But with his super-hearing, you knew that the chances of that plan succeeding were slim to none. He would hear you with those keys from a mile away, and you wouldn’t be able to outrun him to the stairs.
Your next option was to try and convince him to let you out. The pros of that were that he, in his own words, ‘loved’ you. If you could convince him that you’d fallen for him, too, then maybe he would get more comfortable with you. You could ask him to take you on a date after a while, or say some bullshit about wanting him to meet your mom.
But you shrugged off that idea; it would take too much time, and you didn’t know if you could wait that long.
Your last option was to fight; you were tempted to just laugh that option off, but something in your memory gave you pause. You traced back your steps, remembering when Steve had first cut you loose from your ropes.
He’d used a pocketknife.
And then it dawned on you. Maybe the way out wasn’t through using just one of those plans. Maybe it was using a combination of all three.
“Hey, doll? You okay in there?”
You jolted, looking up to the door from your spot on the rug.
“U-um,” you called out, hurrying to your feet. “Yeah! Just… trying to figure out how to use the hairdryer!”
You searched beneath the sink, finding the device in question and plugging it in.
“You need any help with it?”
With trembling hands, you turned it on, praying that he wouldn’t come in.
“No, thanks! I got it.”
You didn’t even usually dry your hair, but you didn’t tell Steve that. You just used a comb while the hair dryer was running, watching your reflection’s movements.
You were going to get out of this place, even if it killed you.
When you were finished in the bathroom, you held onto your towel tightly and walked out into the bedroom. Steve was stripping the bed when you walked past, and you winced when you saw the large bloodstain on the white sheets you’d left behind.
Tearing your eyes away from the sight, you scurried into the closet and closed the door behind you. Looking around at the large space, your eyes fell to the teddy bear in the corner; it was the one Steve had won you at Coney Island.
You looked at it pleadingly, as if it could help you escape, but all it did was slump against the wall.
“At least I have one friend here,” you sighed to yourself sardonically.
Tossing your towel into the hamper by the door, you surveyed the room around you. Most of the closet was taken up by dresses. The majority of them had short poodle skirts and low necklines, but towards the back of the small room you found a rack of nightgowns. The longest one reached just to your knees, and its neck- and hemline were lined with lace. You would’ve preferred a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, but there were none to be found. The chest of drawers shoved up against the wall was filled only with lingerie. Your stomach had turned over when you saw the frilly, lacy undergarments, cringing to think of Steve picking them out for you.
When you’d pulled on the nightgown and the most modest pair of panties you could find (they were lace like the others, but the material was thick enough not to be see-through), you took a deep breath and opened the door.
The first thing you noticed were the fresh set of sheets covering the bed; these ones were a dove gray, the same color as your sheets back home. Steve was sitting in one of the armchairs by the bookshelves, a paperback novel in his hands. You just then noticed that there was a vase of fresh flowers sitting on one of the nightstands – daisies.
“Oh, hey, baby,” Steve said, standing up from his chair and walking over to you. You turned away when you saw how his eyes were raking up and down your body, focusing instead on the daisies, so pretty and innocent, like you used to be.
“Hey, you like those?” Steve asked when he saw what you were looking at. “I always liked daisies. They were my mom’s favorite flower.”
You flinched when you felt his hand on your cheek, but otherwise you remained motionless as his fingertips drifted down to the neckline of your gown.
“I knew you would look good in this,” he murmured. “Just like an angel.”
You cleared your throat, shifting on your feet.
“I-I’m tired,” you stammered. “What time is it?”
He glanced down at his watch, letting out a short whistle.
“Sheesh, it’s already 10 pm. No wonder you’re tired,” he remarked. Then, a sly smile stretched across his features. “Plus, I must’ve worn you out earlier.”
Your knuckles were white with how tight you were clenching your fists, and you felt a wave of nausea settle in your belly when his hand moved down further, palming at your breast.
“It wasn’t all bad, was it? You were practically begging me to make you cum there at the end. And don’t,” he murmured, pressing his lips against your ear, “forget what I told you after; good girls get to cum. And you’ve been very…very…good this evening.”
“Please, Steve,” you whispered, trying to push him away, “Please, can I just…go to bed?”
That sly smirk was still on his face as he nodded his head.
“Sure, baby. Go ahead and crawl into bed.”
You gulped as you did as he said, lifting up the sheets before laying down. His hand caught your wrist when you moved to cover yourself with the blankets, though, and you nearly screamed when he started crawling onto the mattress.
“Steve, please, I just want to sleep,” you begged. “Please; I’m so sore, I don’t want-“
He shushed you, pressing a finger to your lips while his other hand started creeping up your inner thigh, slowly pushing your nightgown up.
“Don’t worry, baby,” he assured you, pressing a soft peck to your lips. “We don’t have to make love again. But I do wanna show you, just like I promised. I wanna show you how good I can make you feel.”
You didn’t know what to feel more sickened by – the hand that was delicately peeling off your panties, or the fact that he’d called what he’d done to you ‘making love’. You wanted to kick him right in his perfect teeth, but then you reminded yourself of the half-formed plan you’d come up with in the bathroom. If it was going to work, you would have to make him believe he was winning you over.
At least, you told yourself that that was the reason why you let out a moan when his fingers grazed your clit. You bit your lip and looked up at the ceiling, feeling the heat of his stare as he slowly started spreading your wetness around your sensitive bud.
“You know, you’ve been acting like you don’t want me,” he murmured, his nose brushing against yours, “But your pussy sure is wet for me. How do you explain that, hm?”
You didn’t answer, simply allowing your eyes to close as he kissed you again. It was nothing like your first kiss; it had been bruising and possessive and punishing. But the way he was kissing you now was…pleasant. His tongue slowly dragged along the seam of your lips until they opened for him, and he didn’t rush the pace of it. No, he kissed you as if he was unwrapping a present, as if he was savoring every last bit of your mouth.
“I wanna show you how I wanted it to be,” he whispered. “Our first time together.”
He slowly started moving down your body, lifting your nightgown up around your hips as he dragged your panties all the way down your legs. Your ass stung with the slide of fabric against it, but when he pressed you down into the sheets and kissed the top of your mound, the discomfort started to fade.
You gasped when you felt his tongue slide against your folds, and you unconsciously spread your legs for him. You glanced down just in time to see his smirk widen before he delved in, sliding his tongue over your entrance and up to your clit.
“Fuck-“ you moaned, your back arching up against your will.
Your hand clapped down over your mouth, trying to muffle the noises that were escaping it as he started slowly lapping at your bud, but Steve heard them anyway. Your eyes were wide open, staring at the ceiling as you started losing yourself in the pleasure. No one had ever done this for you before, and Steve definitely knew what he was doing.
The sloppy sound of his tongue moving against you filled the air alongside the soft moans you couldn’t hold back, and each time your hips bucked up, each time you gasped as he moved his tongue at just the right angle, you heard him let out a growl.
When he slid in one of his fingers, he was met with no resistance, your pussy greedily sucking in the digit as he suckled at your clit. You glanced downwards and could see your wetness glistening within his beard, and for a reason you would feel ashamed about later, you felt yourself clench at the sight.
First one and then two more fingers were added, but the stretch was delicious, nothing like the burning feeling of his cock slamming into you earlier. Once more, you felt your orgasm rising up inside of you, but once more he pulled away at just the last second. You did nothing to contain your desperate wail at having your release taken away so cruelly, but when you looked up to see Steve unbuckling his belt, you frantically tried to push yourself away from him.
“Hey, none of that,” he snapped. “You were being so good. Just let me do this and I’ll let you cum.”
You whimpered, but when he lay between your legs again you forced yourself to stay still, not wanting to face yet another one of his brutal punishments. His mouth crashed onto yours, forcing you to taste yourself on his lips.
This time, when he entered you, you only felt a small twinge of pain. The moan that escaped your lips, though, came as a surprise to you both. The head of his cock was pushing against that spot so deep down inside of you, and you couldn’t help but moan again when he drew himself almost completely out of you and thrust back in, dragging his dick along that spot once more.
“Oh, baby,” he sighed, working his hips slowly, “you have no idea how good you feel…”
Your nails dug into his biceps when he started to move faster, rolling his hips fluidly and hitting that spot that made you see stars. You kept your eyes on the ceiling, trying to imagine that it was anybody else on top of you, that you were back home in your apartment instead of some basement. That you were free instead of trapped with this madman.
“I’ve thought about this for so long,” Steve whispered in your ear. “Fuck, I’ve wanted to feel you cum around me so bad-“
He clenched his teeth and let out a growl, all of a sudden starting to slam into you. Your eyes met his for a second as he rose up onto his knees, lifting your hips up to meet his thrusts as if you were a ragdoll.
“Take it, doll; take me nice and deep-“
“F-fuck-!” you cried up, feeling your orgasm starting to build up once again. Your hips were moving of their own accord, trying to rise up and chase your release as the pleasure inside of you crested.
Finally, finally, you felt the knot inside of you burst, and you heard yourself screaming Steve’s name as you came. You couldn’t tell if your eyes were closed or open for a moment; vaguely, you were aware of Steve letting out a howl as he came inside of you, but you were floating, not able to concentrate on anything except the aftershocks of pleasure coursing through you.
“Doll? Doll, you ok?”
You blinked, focusing on Steve’s face as he panted above you, and nodded your head. You let your arms fall back to your sides, feeling as if they weighed a ton each.
“Good,” he smiled. “Thought I’d knocked you out there for a second.” His lips were warm and wet when he kissed you, and you noticed that he was still very hard and very much still inside of you.
“Didn’t I tell you that I could make you feel good?” You gasped when you felt him start to thrust again, feeling a twinge of soreness as he bumped against your already-battered cervix. “Hm? Can you feel it now? How perfectly we fit together?”
You were too spent to anything but lay there as Steve took you again. For a moment, you felt as if you were going to pass out from exhaustion, but then his hand had roughly squeezed your cheeks, prompting your eyes to fly open.
“Eyes on me, hon,” he panted. “I wanna see you cum again; you’ve earned it.”
At first, you thought it would be impossible, but when you felt your lower half stirring once again, you gripped onto his shoulders again, looking up at him pleadingly.
“You getting close, baby?” he grunted. “Say it. Tell me how good it feels.”
You were silent, looking away in shame, but his hand smacked your hip, causing you to yelp and look back up at him.
“Say it,” he demanded.
“I-It feels so good,” you whispered.
“Are you gonna cum for me again?”
One of his fingers found its way to your clit, and your entire body jolted as if it had just been electrocuted.
“Y-yes!” you cried. “I-I’m gonna cum!”
“Then say it,” he growled. “Say, ‘Please, Steve, let me cum.’ C’mon, be a good girl and ask politely.”
Your back arched up off of the bed when his fingers quickened, and you rushed to comply with his order before you came again.
“P-please, Steve, let me cum,” you begged. “Please, please, I’m so close, I need-“
“I know what you need, baby,” he moaned. “I know what you need. Cum for me, doll. Cum for me-“
Before he could even finish his sentence, you were cumming. You felt your pussy clamp around him, and with a muffled, “O-oh, God-“, he was finding his release as well.
After he’d pulled out of you and rolled over onto his back, you didn’t move, shame starting to creep its way into your afterglow. You tried to tell yourself that it was all part of the plan, that you were only pretending to like what he was doing because you wanted him to trust you. But deep down, you knew that that was a lie. You’d never cum that hard in your life.
“You were so good, (Y/N),” Steve sighed, pulling you against his side. “I love you so much, doll. I wanna take such good care of you.”
You let your head fall onto his chest, too exhausted to fight your way over to the other side of the bed. He was still whispering sweet little things in your ear when you fell asleep, his quiet declarations of love becoming more and more disturbing as you drifted off.
The last thing you registered him saying before you went to sleep was truly terrifying, sending an icy spike of fear straight through your heart, and it echoed in your dreams while you tried to rest.
“You’ll make such a good mother.”
_________
The next day, you woke up alone, a note resting on the pillow beside you. Trying to ignore your aching muscles, you sat up and read it.
Good morning, beautiful. I’m out running a few errands, but I’ll be back around 9 with some breakfast.
I love you.
Rolling your eyes, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, letting out a groan of disgust when you felt his dried cum flaking off of your thighs. You waddled into the bathroom and, after struggling to figure out how his shower worked for a solid five minutes, you took a hurried shower, scrubbing your skin raw as if it would wash away his touches from last night.
By the time you finished, it was around 8:30, so you took your time getting dressed. None of the dresses were really your style; they looked vintage, like something from Steve’s time. Your stomach turned as you pulled on the first dress you saw that didn’t actively repel you; you hated playing along with his sick fantasies.
Your dress came down to your knees, and it was black with tiny little cherries embroidered across it; its skirt flared out at the hips, swishing gently with every step you took. When you finally exited the closet, you meandered over to his bookshelf, skimming the titles.
There was at least one copy of every book you owned back home; he must have gone into your apartment at some point.
“Sick freak,” you muttered to yourself.
You paused when you came to a book that didn’t look like all of the others; sliding it out of its place, you realized that it was a leather-bound sketchbook. You opened it to the first page and smiled at the drawing of the New York City skyline; even though you knew Steve had been the one to draw it, you couldn’t deny that it was a well-done sketch.
Your smile fell when you turned to the next page, though. It was a drawing of you, like the one Steve had hanging up in the bathroom. In this one, though, you were laying down in bed, wearing the oversized college sweater and pajama shorts you usually wore to bed. You gulped, flipping to the next page – another picture of you, laughing at something he hadn’t bothered drawing.
Feeling a wave of nausea rising up in your throat, you kept flipping the pages. You, you, you, you – they were all of you, save for two. The one of the skyline, and then one of a man. You thought that his face was familiar, but you couldn’t place where you’d seen him before.
He had long hair in the drawing, and his cheeks held a thin layer of stubble Steve had shaded in. Aside from his handsome features, the most striking thing about him was his metal arm. You frowned as you stared at the man’s face, certain that you’d seen him somewhere.
The door behind you opened suddenly, slashing through the silence in the room with the squealing of its rusted hinges. Steve walked in holding a brown paper bag and a large wooden box, giving you a radiant smile when he saw you.
“Hey, doll,” he said, setting the objects in his hands down onto the bed. “You look fantastic in that dress; I knew you would the moment I saw it in the store.”
You forced a smile to your face, trying to ignore the hammering in your heart; focus on the plan, you told yourself. Focus on the plan.
“Thank you,” you told him meekly.
He walked over to you and pressed a kiss to your cheek, his smile only growing when you didn’t move away. His eyes skirted down to the sketchbook still in your hands, and for a moment you were afraid that he would be upset with you for being nosy.
But he only took the book from your hands and studied the drawing of the man you’d been looking at.
“You checking out more of my artwork, baby?” he asked. “What do you think?”
“Um… I think it’s really good,” you said, forcing a strained smile to your lips. “You’re a really good artist.”
Steve seemed to glow under your praise, and he leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.
“Thank you, baby,” he smiled. “That means a lot coming from my best girl. Speaking of! I brought a present for you.”
He gestured for you to follow him to the bed, and you watched as he excitedly opened the box atop of it. Inside, there was a brand new Crosley record player, and beneath it were a stack of records.
“I have one of these at home, but I figured it would be nice for us to have some music while we’re here,” he explained. “Did you know that record players are getting popular again? A brand new record shop opened up close by; I guess history really does repeat itself, huh?”
You nodded, starting to flip through the records. You noticed that two of them were from your favorite band. There were several dedicated to older music, too - Frank Sinatra, Nat King Col, old movie soundtracks.
You looked up to see Steve watching you expectantly, and you gave him another weak smile.
“This is great, Steve,” you assured him. “I love it; thank you.”
“You’re welcome, baby doll,” he cooed. You felt his arms wrap around you from behind, and his breath was warm against your ear when he spoke. “I do have one condition, though.”
You gulped, fearing the worst when you felt his pelvis press against your ass.
“Wh-what’s that?”
“That you dance with me,” he said, “after I have it all plugged in.”
You nearly slumped with relief, and you nodded quickly.
“Sure, Steve. We can dance together if you want.”
Your captor’s face lit up, and he quickly let you go to start hooking up the machine. You sat on the bed as he worked, reading the back of the records to see what songs were on them. Every now and then, your eyes would look up to Steve, sliding down his body to his ass. Or, rather, to the shape of his keys where they rested in his back pocket.
“Alright, hon, I-“ Steve straightened up and caught you staring, his lips twisting up into a smirk when your eyes rushed to meet his. “Oh? See something you like?”
Your cheeks burned, and you emphatically shook your head no, but he still had a mischievous look on his face as he walked back over to you.
“There’ll be plenty of time for that, later,” he chided you. You opened your mouth to protest, but you gave up before you even began.
He flipped through the records until he found the one he was looking for, gesturing for you to follow him as he went to put it on the player. When he set the needle in place, the sound of a vintage big band flooded the air, and you recognized the tune as “It’s Been A Long, Long Time” by Harry James.
“This is my favorite song,” Steve explained, moving your hands to rest on his shoulders. You felt his huge palms rest on your hips as the two of you started swaying. “I knew from the second I saw you that I wanted to share it with you.”
You sighed, feeling your heart constrict. If things were different, if he hadn’t done all of the horrible things to you that he had, you would have melted upon hearing him say that.
“When did you first see me?” you suddenly asked. “You mentioned yesterday that, um… Well, you made it sound like you’ve known me longer than just two months.”
He smiled, looking almost sheepish for a second.
“I saw you for the first time back in April,” he confessed. “You were sitting in the café with Tina, and just… I’d always laughed off the idea of love at first sight, you know? I didn’t think it was possible. But you were so beautiful, so…perfect, and I just knew you were the one.”
You felt as if something had sucked all of the air out of your lungs. April. He’d been stalking you, he’d been obsessed with you, since April.
“Why,” you asked, “Why didn’t you just…talk to me? Why do all of this?”
Steve flinched, his eyes sparking with that same anger you’d seen yesterday, and you ducked your head, letting it rest against his chest.
“I heard you telling Tina you didn’t wanna date until you graduated,” he eventually admitted. “And I just knew I couldn’t wait that long. I… I waited too long one time; I wasn’t going to let it happen again.”
You had no idea who he was talking about, but you didn’t press the issue, just continuing to sway to the beat with Steve. When he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you flush against him, you let him, letting your hands trail down his back, towards the pocket where he kept his pocketknife.
Now isn’t the time, you reminded yourself, forcing your hands to stop at the small of his back. Soon. You just have to be patient.
__________
Five days went by, and if it wasn’t for the terror of cohabitating with a crazy person, you would’ve been bored with the routine you’d fallen into.
In the mornings, Steve would usually be gone. The only appliance in the small space was a minifridge, so he would usually stock up with food for the day in the mornings. While he was away, you would shower and dress, and when he came home you would let him give you a kiss.
After that, the two of you would read while sitting on the couch; he forced you to sit in his lap, but the books always served as a good distraction. In the afternoons, after lunch, he would ask you to model for him. At first, it didn’t bother you so much. The first day he drew you, you’d sat in one of his armchairs reading, ignoring him for the most part.
On the second day, he’d asked (or ordered, more like it) you to wear one of his shirts, leaving it open to show your lingerie underneath.
“I don’t feel comfortable doing that,” you’d said at first, desperate for him not to force you into any state of undress. “What if someone finds your sketchbook and sees?”
Steve had just smirked and pecked your cheek.
“Then they’ll know that you belong to me,” he’d answered. “Now go on, don’t be shy. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, doll.”
On the third day, he’d made you pose in lingerie he picked out – a pale pink, lacey bralette with matching panties. You’d been on the verge of tears the whole time he was drawing you, but in his final picture, you’d had a smile on your face. You’d wondered, then, if that’s what he always saw when you were sad. If he really was so crazy as to believe you were happy with him.
After dinner, he would put on the record player and lay with you on the couch while the two of you talked. Or, actually, he would talk. You would zone out most of the time, only muttering a quiet ‘uh-huh’ every now and then. Mostly he would talk about his childhood, sharing stories with you about his mother or Bucky. He’d even opened up about ‘the only woman he’d ever loved’ – a British agent named Peggy Carter.
You couldn’t help but wonder if he would have done the same things he was doing to you to her. You hoped not; you hoped that he’d only lost his mind after he’d been fighting for so many years in a time he never should’ve lived to see. But you would never know for sure.
The one thing in your routine you refused to get used to was the sex. Every night, and at least once during the day, he would fuck you. And the only time you never came was on the first night, when he’d stolen your virginity, your innocence, and, really, your life.
It was never as brutal as your first time had been. His touches would start off gentle, teasing your skin as he whispered filthy things into your ear. He, thankfully, never asked you to give him oral, but he sure seemed to love giving it to you. You’d lost count of how many surfaces he’d eaten you out on; on the second day, it had been the bathroom counter. On the third, it was the sofa and then one of the armchairs. Really, if it was horizontal and strong enough to support your weight, he’d made you cum atop it.
You still never got used to the stretch of his cock inside of you, though. Because, while nothing was as bad as that first night, the stretch always stung, always took your breath away. That initial pain never lasted for long, though. Soon enough, whether you liked it or not, you would be moaning for him. He would always, without fail, make you beg to cum, and you always, without fail, would. You hated it even as you loved it, but it was only when you noticed yourself craving his touch while he was away that you knew something had to give.
He was conditioning you to want him, but you would be damned if it would be that easy to break you.
On the fourth night, you stayed awake, waiting for his arm to loosen around you in his sleep. When it did, you waited even longer, not moving a muscle until you heard him start to snore. Holding your breath, you started wiggling away from him, lifting his arm off of you as you slid towards the bed.
When you were finally out of his grip, though, you heard him stir, turning onto his side to face you.
“M’where ya goin…” he mumbled, voice rough with sleep.
“Just to the bathroom,” you whispered. You squinted in the darkness; the only light in the room came from the glow of the alarm clock, but you could just make out the movement of him nodding before letting himself fall back against the pillows.
“Hurry back,” he slurred. “’s cold without you.”
You slid your feet onto the cold floor, dragging them with your steps, heading towards the pile of his clothes he’d left on the floor. When you felt your toe come in contact with them, you threw yourself onto the ground, making a gasp of mock-surprise.
“(Y/N)?” You saw Steve sit up onto his elbows, looking towards your prone form on the floor. “You ok, baby?”
“I’m fine,” you assured him. As you stood up, you fumbled, knowing this was your only chance. “Just tripped on your clothes; go back to sleep.”
He hummed and laid back down just as your fingers slipped into the pocket of his pants and found his pocketknife. You slipped it out of its pocket and stood up, wrapping your fist around it as you went into the bathroom.
You locked the door behind you and sat on the toilet, going about your business as you studied the weapon in your hands. It wasn’t large, but it was something; one more part of your plan was fulfilled.
You stowed it between some towels in the linen closet and washed your hands, stepping out of the bathroom to find Steve standing up, naked as the day he was born, holding his jeans in his hands.
“S-steve?” you asked, doing your best to calm the wild hammering in your heart. “What, um… What are you doing?”
He looked up at you, and for a moment you felt all of your hopes, all of your plans, torn into pieces. But when he smiled, you faltered, forcing a matching smile onto your lips. Maybe it wasn’t all over.
“They’re still here,” he said.
“Um… What’s still there?” you asked.
“The keys!” He walked over to you, cupping your cheek. “Sorry, I just… I thought maybe you would, uh…”
“Try to take them?” you finished. He smiled sheepishly and nodded, pecking your lips.
“I’m sorry, doll,” he sighed. “I should’ve trusted you. I just… I don’t want anything to happen to you. To us.”
You made yourself grin and cup his cheek.
“Steve, I… I don’t think I want to leave anymore,” you said. “I mean, I would like to leave this place, but… I promise I don’t want to leave you. I’m starting to think… Well, maybe it sounds silly, but I’m starting to think you might’ve been right. Maybe we were made for each other.”
Steve inhaled deeply through his nose, his lips parted as he searched your face of any signs of a lie. You carefully schooled your expression into one of honesty, meeting his eyes with a small smile and praying that you were a better actress than you’d previously thought in your life.
His eyes started watering, a tear slowly rolling down his face as he looked at you, and suddenly you were being lifted up into his arms. He pressed your body flush against his, kissing your shoulder with trembling lips.
“God, baby, I… That’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear you say. I love you so, so much,” he said. He sat you down, a broad grin parting his lips as he wiped away his tear. “Jeez, doll, I don’t think I’ve cried in years. What’re you doing to me?”
You blamed the small prick of guilt you felt on Stockholm Syndrome and pushed it aside, giving him the most earnest grin you could muster.
“Let’s go back to bed,” you suggested.
That night, Steve made love to you slowly, and you were able to stop acting as he pulled orgasm after orgasm out of you – first, with his fingers, then with his tongue, then with his cock. He left the lamp on so his eyes would never have to leave yours, and something in his blue eyes made it impossible for you to look away.
The next morning, you woke up before him, something that had never happened before. You sat up in bed, turning to your side so you could watch his sleeping face. He seemed peaceful; you never could have guessed that so much evil could reside underneath his handsome features.
But your sore muscles were a testament to all he had done to you, as were the finger-shaped bruises on your hips. With a sigh, you started to move away, but then his eyes opened and he smiled at you.
“Good morning, baby,” he murmured. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore,” you answered honestly, drawing a chuckle from him.
“But a good kind of sore, right?” He didn’t wait for your answer before standing up and walking over to the closet, pulling a cableknit sweater out of the drawer he’d reserved for himself and a pair of boxer briefs.
“I’m thinking breakfast burritos this morning,” he said as he dressed. “What do you think?”
“That’s fine,” you answered, standing up. You’d grown accustomed to him seeing you naked, though your skin still crawled anything you caught the hungry look he would get in his eyes. “Just hurry back to me, ok?”
Steve paused at this, arching an eyebrow at you.
“You…mean that?” he asked, and you smiled. Now was the time to sell the act.
“Yeah, Steve.” You leaned up on your tip-toes, pressing your lips to his for just a fraction of a second. “I mean it.”
He broke into an ear-to-ear grin and captured your lips once more.
“God, I love you,” he breathed before pecking your forehead. “I’ll be thirty minutes tops, ok?”
You nodded, giving him one last peck before going into the closet to pick out your clothes for the day. You threw on a pale blue dress, walking out into the main room right as the door at the top of the stairs clicked shut behind him.
It was time.
With your heart beating a mile a minute, you ran to the bathroom and retrieved the knife from its hiding spot, clicking open the blade and gripping it in one of your hands. As you walked out of the bathroom, your eyes swept over the space you’d been living in for the last half of the week, wondering if there was anything you should take with you. But there was no money to be found; you’d spent most of your mornings alone looking for anything that would help you.
But no, the only thing you would need was Steve’s keys. And, if your plan went accordingly, you would have those soon enough.
On shaky legs, you climbed the stairs, pressing yourself to the side of the wall as you waited. When Steve first walked in, he wouldn’t be able to see you where you were currently standing, a fact that you would be taking advantage of. You played out all of the possible scenarios in your head, heart beating frantically; you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it on the other side of Brooklyn.
You didn’t allow yourself to relax as you stood there, keeping all of your muscles tight as a bowstring, your knuckles white from how hard you were gripping the knife. You can do this, your brain kept saying. You can do this.
You jolted when you heard his keys slide into the lock on the other side of the door. It was now or never.
As soon as he walked through the door, you were on him, plunging the knife as deep as you could into his chest.
“SHIT,” he wailed, reflexively throwing you off of him.
Your back hit the wall so hard that, when you landed on the ground, you were winded, but you still managed to scream when you felt Steve’s hands on your biceps. You thrashed as he tried to pick you up, slashing blindly with the knife until you saw blood covering your hands.
“YOU FUCKING BITCH-“ he screamed, punching you in the side as you slashed across his chest. You stumbled, knowing immediately that he’d at the very least bruised your ribs, but you were being fueled by adrenaline.
You ducked when he tried to grab you again, plunging the knife into the side of his thigh and pulling it out, washing as blood spurted out of the new wound. Steve went down onto one knee, clutching at the hole in his leg frantically.
You stumbled to the side when his other arm swung out at you, trying to get past him to the door. A hand wrapped around your wrist, though, jerking you back towards him so hard that the knife went flying out of your hand, clattering down the stairs.
“I’m gonna make you pay for this,” he was growling. Despite the menace of his words, though, you could see his face getting paler by the second, and when you kicked him in the shoulder as hard as you could, he lost his grip on you.
For a second, you felt as if the world was moving in slow motion. As soon as he lost his hold on you, you spun to the side, running out of the still-open door. Gripping the handle with both hands, you wrenched it shut behind you, just barely catching the look of surprise on Steve’s face as he tried in vain to reach the door in time.
You thanked the heavens that his keys were still in the lock, and with shaking hands you hurried to lock him inside. As soon as it was done, you watched as the handle started jiggling wildly from the inside, and for a second you only stood there in shock, staring down at the blood on your hands.
But then you heard an animalistic yell from its other side, and you stumbled back when you heard the distinct booming of his fist pounding against the door.
“LET ME OUT,” he screamed, his voice more high-pitched and desperate than you’d ever heard it before. “LET ME OUT YOU FUCKING BITCH!”
The metal groaned when he hit it again, and you didn’t want to stick around to see if he would actually manage to break it down. Turning on your heel, you started walking down further into what you now recognized as a house. You were in a hallway with photographs lining the walls, and you gasped when you realized who they were of – you.
Every single picture was one of you – in your bed, in a classroom, in a library. They were all of you. You hurried past them as the banging got more and more insistent, heading straight for the front door. You only paused when you saw a wallet resting on the side table beside it, hesitating only for a moment before grabbing it.
“I’LL FIND Y-“ you heard Steve start to shout, but his voice was cut off as you walked out the door, slamming it shut behind you.
You blinked in the sudden rush of sunlight; you were on in the city. The distant shapes of skyscrapers rose up behind a row of brownstones, and when you saw a taxi driving by, you stumbled down the steps of the home behind you and waved at it frantically.
When it paused on the side of the road, you didn’t hesitate to climb into the backseat despite the protests of its driver.
“Watch it, lady,” he cried. “Is that- What the fuck are you doing covered in blood? You better not get it on my seats, or I’ll-“
“I need you to take me to Buffalo,” you interrupted him.
The cabbie laughed, and you could see his eyes roll in the rearview mirror.
“Yeah, right, girlie,” he chuckled. “I don’t go out of the city.”
You rooted around in Steve’s wallet, pulling out a handful of hundred dollar bills and holding them out to him.
“I can pay you $500 now, and I’ll give you $500 more once we get there.”
It only took the cab driver a second before he put the car in drive and started heading down the street, rolling down the partition to accept the cash.
“Jeez, lady, you must be in some kind of trouble,” he sighed. You leaned your head back, the gravity of what you’d just done weighing heavily on your shoulders.
“Not anymore,” you replied. “Not anymore.”