Chapter Text
Your feet trudged the familiar path, your head down and eyes following the movement of your sneakers against the pavement.
Your shoulders were hunched against the cold, arms wrapping around your body to try and generate some kind of warmth. Winter was fast approaching and you were beginning to worry about how you were going to survive the upcoming months.
You had moved to the city a few months ago, needing a fresh start. You had thought that you’d take a few weeks to settle in and find a job, maybe make a few friends along the way. But things hadn’t gone entirely to plan.
What you thought would be a quick job hunt had now turned into a daily struggle. Your degree was proving almost entirely useless and as the days wore on you started to give up the idea of working in your field.
You were now just trying to find a job, any job. Your meagre savings that you had fled your hometown with was dwindling and you didn’t know how much longer you could make it last. The rent on your shitty apartment had taken a large chunk of your money and the end of the month was fast approaching — your creepy landlord constantly reminding you that the next month’s worth of rent was due and informing you that if you didn’t have the cash he was willing to work out a compromise, the comments always paired with a waggle of his eyebrows.
The past year of your life had been one you’d like to forget, blow after blow striking you, making you want to just give up. It started with the accident, a drunk driver careening across an intersection and hitting the car you were travelling in with your parents.
You were driving back from your birthday dinner, your life was perfect and you remember feeling on top of the world.
That had all disappeared in a moment of screeching tyres and broken glass.
The doctors all told you that you were lucky to survive, but you were beginning to think you would have been better off dying with the only family you had.
Things went downhill quickly after that.
Your girlfriend of three years broke up with you a month later, saying she couldn’t commit to looking after you as you recovered from the accident. The appointments seemed endless, between the doctor and the physiotherapist you had been leaning on her for support while you were still coming to terms with the fact that your parents were dead.
She moved out of your shared apartment, leaving you alone for the first time in your life.
Not that you really blamed her. It wasn’t the life you had promised her or the life that you wanted to be living either.
You had tried reaching out to friends, but they all quickly became tired of your constant mood shifts. You would go from anger at your situation to a crying mess on the floor and no one knew how to deal with you.
So they all left too.
Eventually, you were physically healed enough to return to work. You were glad to finally have something to occupy your time throughout the day but even that became something you lost.
Your manager sat you down one day, talking to you about your productivity since your return, and ended the conversation with a letter that contained information about your severance pay and a pamphlet for a local mental health facility.
In a spur of the moment decision, you packed up the necessities, sold off the rest of your things, emptied your savings, and hauled ass across the country looking for a clean break from the past year.
You were hopeful when you arrived but that hope had slowly been beaten out of you day by day.
It felt like you had hit rock bottom.
So every day you spent pounding the pavement, looking for someone willing to give you a shot. Every afternoon you would end up in the bar across the street from your apartment, drowning your sorrows in a glass of amber liquid. Every night would find you stumbling to your door, collapsing onto your musty mattress, and praying that you didn’t wake up the next day.
And yet, every day your eyes would open with the sun and you had to start the process all over again.
You push against the wooden door, feeling the warmth of the bar envelop you immediately. You unwind your scarf from your neck, shaking your hair free as you approach the bar. You order your usual, greeting the bartender by name, before making your way to one of the tables in the corner.
You sat watching the other patrons as you sip your drink, creating stories for their lives in your head. You imagined the young couple at the table by the window were on a first date, the elderly gentleman at the bar was drinking away his troubles after a fight with his son, the group of young men playing pool in the corner were college students trying to escape the stress of midterms.
You wondered if they thought about your life as they saw you sitting there, what scenarios they would make up, and if they would be better than the current reality you were stuck in.
You glance around the room again, the Friday night crowd rolling in and filling up the room — the volume rising as you shrink further into your seat trying to stay invisible.
You notice her first, the red of her dress and hair making her stand out amongst the crowd. Her back is to you but you don’t mind, it gives you time to appreciate the way her dress hugs her body. It’s tight, but not obscenely so. The red fabric hugs her figure and gives you a perfect view of her firm ass. Her toned legs are on display, muscles taut from the black heels wrapped around her feet.
Her hair is in loose waves down her back, shining in the light overhead — the red drawing you in, the strong urge to run your fingers through the strands and find out if they are as soft as they look, consuming you.
Her shoulders are bare, the straps of the dress thin enough to show off her strong arms and you find yourself wanting to be wrapped in them. She leans over the bar further, giving the bartender her drink order and you find yourself gripping your glass tighter as more of the creamy skin of her thighs is exposed.
You realise that you’re not the only one to notice her, a few eyes leering at her from various parts of the room. You scowl, not liking the sting of jealousy that fills you up at the realisation. You resign yourself to the fact that they’d probably have more of a shot with the gorgeous woman than you would, you had nothing to offer her and lacked the confidence to even introduce yourself.
She turns then, drink in hand and her eyes meet yours across the room. You quickly drop your scowl, your lips curling into what you hoped was a welcoming smile. Her eyes slide from you and your heart sinks as she smiles at a man a few tables from you. He was attractive, you supposed, with a charming smile and perfect hair.
That was the kind of person she should be with, someone who matched her beauty.
Even though her smile wasn’t for you, you still found yourself captivated by it. Her full lips were covered in lipstick, the blood red colour standing out against her pale skin, matching her fiery hair and dress perfectly. She looked dangerous and you wanted to follow her to the end of the earth.
You sigh heavily, downing the rest of your drink before making your way to the bathroom. On your way back you order yourself another drink, groaning inwardly as you realise your table is now taken by a group who must have entered the bar in the last few minutes.
You push your way through the bodies crowding the bar, trying to find somewhere to sit. There aren’t any free tables, just a few random chairs littering the room. You decide to cut your losses and head home, the crowd beginning to overwhelm you.
Just as you bring your drink to your mouth — intending to finish it before you leave — a hand shoots out to stop you. You look down at the fingers curled around your forearm, the red nail polish standing out against the white of your jacket sleeve.
You look up and find two eyes staring intently at you, the soft forest green flecked with gold drawing you in. You hadn’t noticed the colour from a distance, but the mystery woman in red was not only right in front of you but she was even more beautiful up close.
Your eyes travel over her delicate, button nose before they’re drawn to her bee-stung lips. You notice they are moving and you shake your head to clear it from the spell you were under, realising she was talking to you.
“I’m sorry,” you say, hoping you can pass off your ignorance on the noise of the crowd. “What was that?”
“I said,” she repeated with urgency, “don’t drink that. I think I saw someone slip something into your drink when you walked past them.”
Your blood runs cold, your eyes now locked on your drink as if you’d be able to tell something was wrong. You logically knew that most things that were slipped into drinks were almost unidentifiable which is what made them so dangerous.
“Oh,” you reply after a moment, not sure what else to say.
“C’mon,” she continues, her grip on your forearm never wavering. “I saw who did it. We need to let security know.”
You don’t have time to process what she said before she’s dragging you over to a beefy man in a black shirt standing near the door. She leans up to talk in his ear in an effort to be heard above the voices, pointing out a middle aged man near the bar. The security guard nods once before walking over to the man, grabbing him roughly before dragging him out of the bar.
You turn to the woman, stunned by what had just transpired. You realise how close you came to becoming a victim of god knows what and you had her to thank for your safety.
“Thank you,” you blurt out when her attention is on you again. “I don’t know what would have happened if you weren’t here.”
She just smiles at you, her hand still clutching your arm. You don’t want to draw her attention to it, not wanting the first human contact you’d had in months to stop.
“Don’t mention it,” she replies, her raspy voice washing over you and drawing you further under her spell. “Just think of me as your guardian angel.”
“Angel seems pretty accurate,” you reply without thinking, cheeks heating as her smile grows.
“It’s a good thing I had my eye on you,” she winks at you and you feel your mouth go dry.
Was she flirting?
“I’m Natalie by the way,” she tells you, finally letting go of your arm to offer you her hand to shake. “Natalie Rushman.”
You take her hand in yours, trying not to get distracted by the softness or the warmth as you tell her your own name.
“It was nice to meet you,” you tell her honestly, not letting go of her hand. “But I should probably head home.”
You notice she hasn’t let go of your hand either, her fingers tightening inconspicuously around yours as she pouts at your words.
“Don’t let one douchebag ruin your night,” she counters, her pouty bottom lip tempting you. “I’d like to get to know you more. Come sit with me?”
“I- uh,” you stutter, brain short circuiting as you try to process her words.
“Unless you have somewhere to be, of course,” she responds when you still don’t answer, her eyes looking sad. “I was trying to work up the courage to talk to you all night, I’d hate to miss the opportunity.”
“Me?” comes your genius response, certain that she was fucking with you.
You think of what you were going home to — a shoebox apartment with nothing to occupy your time. You couldn’t afford a TV so you spent your free time reading the few books you had packed with you over and over again. You knew which was the better option.
“Yes, silly,” she giggles and you wish you could wind back time just to hear the sound over and over. “I thought you were cute when I saw you earlier. But you looked pretty uninterested, almost as if you were mad that I was looking at you so I chickened out.”
“Oh,” you reply, remembering the moment she was referencing. “No, I um, was thinking about something else which is why it looked like I was glaring. I promise it wasn’t directed at you.”
“Well now that that’s settled,” she giggles again and your heart soars, “shall we go find somewhere to sit and get to know each other better?”
You nod eagerly and let her lead you away to a secluded corner, wondering how your luck had turned around so quickly.
You grunt as your back hits the door, the hard wood pressing against your shoulder blades as a warm body pressed against your front.
Hungry lips chase yours, hands tugging at the hem of your shirt as you try and catch your breath. Lips move from your mouth, teeth nipping along your jaw as a hand slides over your stomach, climbing higher until it meets the fabric of your bra.
You can still hear the noise from the bar, muffled through the door of the small supply closet you stumbled into moments ago. Patrons are walking by, their conversations uninterrupted, completely unaware of the heat of the room beyond the door.
Natalie’s hand slips under the cup of your bra, nimble fingers quickly finding your aching nipple and tugging harshly as her lips find yours again, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You whine into her mouth, hips thrusting against the air as they try to find some friction to ease the ache that had settled low in your belly.
“Such a needy thing,” she taunts, pressing more of her weight against your body and trapping you against the door. “It’s okay, malyshka, I’ll take care of you.”
You don’t have time to process the possessive tone of her voice before her knee slips between your legs, pressing just right against your centre. You swear loudly at the contact, rolling your hips to try and chase the waves of pleasure building inside of you.
You hear a chuckle and you open your eyes to see Natalie’s face only inches from yours, a smug smirk on her face as you continue to grind yourself against her thigh.
“That’s it,” she urges you, her free hand helping to guide your hips as she continues to massage your breast in her other hand. “Make yourself feel good for me.”
You close your eyes again, your orgasm approaching quickly. You can’t remember the last time you had an orgasm that wasn’t by your own hands and you knew it wouldn’t take long to fall over the edge.
You throw your head back, Natalie wasting no time and attaching her lips to the exposed skin and sucking marks into the sensitive flesh there. You knew that your neck was sure to be littered with bruises by tomorrow but you couldn’t find it in your to care right now, your hips finding the perfect rhythm against her leg, the fabric of your pants pushing against your clit just right.
“I’m gunna-” you cry out, hips stuttering as you near your release, unable to finish your sentence as your cries turn to moans.
“Such a good girl,” Natalie coos in your ear before taking the lobe between her teeth and biting down. “Cum for me.”
It’s not a question, rather a command and one you couldn’t deny even if you tried. With a loud moan, you fall apart, not caring about who could hear you outside the door. Natalie helps you ride out your orgasm, continuing to guide your hips even as you slump forward, head resting against her shoulder as you try and catch your breath.
“That was — amazing” you pant into her neck, body jostling with her answering chuckle.
“Oh, malyshka,” she replies and you catch the faintest hint of an accent. “We’re not even close to finished yet.
Her hand that was still cradling your breast begins to trek down your body, finding the button on your pants and snapping it open easily. Even though you just came, you feel your stomach clench in anticipation as she slowly drags your zipper down before slipping her hand into your underwear.
“So wet,” she comments as her fingers drag through your slick folds. “You made such a mess for me.”
You want to reply with something witty but before you can even think of something, she sinks two fingers into your wet centre.
“Oh,” you gasp, the sudden feeling of fullness surprising you.
She pumps her fingers slowly a few times before her hand picks up speed, her fingers curling inside of you and hitting the spot that has you quickly approaching another orgasm.
“Such a greedy little cunt you have,” she whispers in your ear as she adds a third finger, her pace never wavering even as you hold onto the forearms for dear life — knowing that if you dared let go your knees would give out and you’d collapse into a heap on the floor.
You know the words should disgust you but her sultry voice and the way she’s playing your body expertly has you begging for more.
“Please,” your voice is high and breathy, your breath catching in your throat as she flicks over your clit with her thumb.
“Please, what?” Natalie taunts, her pace slowing slightly.
“More, please,” you beg, your voice sounding desperate now as your orgasm starts to escape you.
“I don’t know if you can handle more,” she’s taunting you now, her fingers only pumping into you shallowly, giving you hardly any relief. “Your sweet little pussy is already gripping my fingers so tight, I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”
You try and buck your hips to bring her deeper, huffing in frustration as she stills her fingers completely.
“Now, now,” she jeers, hooking a finger under your chin to look into your eyes. You notice the green in her eyes has almost completely disappeared, black pupils blown wide with lust peer into your own. “Only good girls who ask nicely get to cum on my fingers.”
Your cheeks flame, now that you had time to breathe and your brain was working again you realise how completely wantonly you had been behaving.
“Aw, don’t go all shy on me now,” Natalie pouts and you notice the glint in her eyes. She was absolutely loving the complete control she had over you at the moment, her fingers still resting inside of you.
She starts to move them slowly, just enough to pull you back to the edge but not enough to push you over.
“I want to hear you beg,” she whispers in your ear as she pushes a little deeper with each thrust.
You close your eyes, shaking your head even as your hips move in time with her hand. You wanted to try and preserve what little dignity you had left, not wanting to play in her games even if your body was betraying you.
“That’s a shame,” you can almost hear the smirk in her voice, the smug tone making you want to leave.
But you were right there, and maybe if you didn’t let on, you’d be able to cum without having to give into her.
She adjusts her hand and the angle shifts, hitting that same spot inside of you. You try to control your breathing, your orgasm hitting you quickly. Your muscles tense as it washes over you and Natalie realises, but it’s too late.
She pulls her hand from you and even as she glares at you, you can’t help but think she’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.
“You bitch,” she spits out, the venom in her voice making you recoil.
“Look, I’m sorry-” you try to apologise but she just scoffs, not even letting you finish your sentence before she pushes past you and walks out of the room.
You roll your eyes at her retreating form, quickly adjusting your clothes before heading to the bathroom. You clean yourself up as best you can, frowning as you spy the bruises already forming on your neck.
You exit the bathroom and you spot Natalie across the room, phone pressed to her ear as she talks to someone on the other line. Her eyes meet yours and you quickly look away, wrapping your scarf around your neck as you prepare to leave.
You’re reaching for the door when you’re stopped by a hand on your forearm again, the same red nail polish alerting you to who it belongs to.
“Hi,” you hear and turn towards the voice, eyebrow raised.
Natalie stands there, looking sheepish, her eyes looking anywhere except you.
“Look, I owe you an apology,” she admits, her hands twisting nervously in front of you. “I took it too far back then and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted,” you reply curtly, before trying to leave again.
“Wait,” she tries again and you huff out a frustrated sigh before turning to face her again. “At least let me buy you a drink to make it up to you? Then I promise to leave you alone.”
You look back out the door; you can see your apartment across the street, the dark windows not at all welcoming. You look back at Natalie, her face hopeful and kind.
Maybe you should give her a chance, you decide. What harm could one drink do?
Your head is pounding as you wake up, the sunlight streaming in through the window warming your face. You scrunch your eyes tighter, not wanting to wake up just yet.
You must have had more to drink than you realised, you hadn’t had a hangover this bad in a long time.
You stretch out, frowning as your arm hits the wall. Your bed wasn’t close enough for you to reach the wall of your apartment, a good few feet of space separating the two.
Your eyes fly open and you blink at the sudden brightness. As your eyes begin to adjust, you realise that you’re not in your apartment. You’re in someone else’s bed, in a room you didn’t recognise.
Maybe you really did drink too much last night.
You close your eyes again trying to piece together the events of the night before. You remember the woman in the red dress — Natalie — and your disastrous tryst in the storage closet. After that things start to blur, coming in flashes as you struggle to remember.
You remember her buying you a drink and sitting down at a table near the back. You remember her apologising for her behaviour again while you tried to finish your drink as quickly as you could so you could just go home.
You remember starting to feel a bit light headed, the music suddenly becoming overwhelming.
You remember Natalie offering to help you home, you remember trying to brush her off, not wanting to give her your address.
You remember her laughing when you told her as much, a long loud laugh that sent shivers down your spine.
“Oh, honey,” she begins through her chuckles, “I already know where you live.”
“You do?” the edges of your brain feel fuzzy like a fog was starting to set in.
“Of course,” she replies as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. “I’ve had my eye on you for a while now. Something as broken and alone as you was just what I was after.”
You feel like you’re on a delay, your brain taking too long to process what she was saying. You know that you should be panicking, this woman just admitted to watching you for god knows how long. And yet, you felt relaxed, like you just wanted to lie down and go to sleep for a while.
“It was easy enough to pick out your routine, you were so predictable, day after day. Going back to your apartment all alone. No friends, no phone calls from family. No job. No one to miss you.” Her words start to slur in your mind, the edges of your vision going black.
She lifts one of your arms over her shoulder, helping you walk out of the bar. No one stops the two of you, why would they? You had been with each other all night, some people probably even saw you leave the closet together. You had been touching and flirting and drinking together for hours.
To everyone else, it just looked like she was helping her partner leave after one too many drinks. If only they knew, if only someone stopped you.
“This really would have been easier if you weren’t so stubborn,” she comments as you feel the cold night air hit your face. “You were meant to come back to my house on your own, I don’t like having to use other methods to get you to comply.”
You realise that she must have slipped something into your drink, why else would you suddenly feel on the verge of passing out?
You try to push her away from you but it’s no use. Her grip is surprisingly strong and in your weakened state, you didn’t stand a chance. You notice that despite her claims to know where you live, she’s guiding you away from your apartment, down a dark alley towards a lone car parked at the end.
“You’ll learn soon enough,” she continues as if the two of you were having a normal conversation. “You have spirit though, I like that. More fun to break.”
You’ve reached the car now and she opens the back door, lowering you into the seat. Your body flops over as she hops in beside you, shutting the door behind her and pulling your head into her lap. She cards her fingers through your hair as your eyes begin to close against your will, whatever drug she had slipped into your drink making its way through your system.
“Why?” you ask her, the word slurred, your tongue feeling like it weighs a thousand pounds.
“Because I wanted you, and I always get what I want.”
You feel the wave of nausea rush over you as you open your eyes again, the memories flooding back.
The first thing you notice is the bars across the window on the opposite side of the room. They’re made of metal, thick and foreboding and you just knew by looking at them that they were strong.
You gulp as your eyes move to the door, the wooden exit to the room sealed shut. You jump to your feet, rushing across the room to grip the handle tightly in your hands.
You twist and pull but nothing happens, the door firmly shut. You imagine it would be locked from the other side, the wood thick enough that there was no way to simply break through.
You were trapped in some unfamiliar house with no way out and no one to come looking for you. Natalie was right, you were all alone and the perfect target.
You had no idea what kind of sick things she had in store for you and you didn’t want to find out. You turn so your back hits the door, sliding down and hugging your knees to your chest. The sobs begin then, the absolute hopelessness filling your body and escaping with the tears that trek down your face.
You press your head into your legs, trying to block out the memories, hoping that this was all just a bad dream that you would wake up from.
Last night you had thought your luck was finally turning around and now here you were at rock bottom.
Eventually, your tears run dry, and your body is exhausted from the exertion. You don’t move though, not wanting to open your eyes to face your new reality.
All you can think of are Natalie’s last words to you, whispered in the back of the car as you finally lost consciousness. They weren’t just a comment or passing statement, they were a promise, something irrefutable. The three little words echo in your mind, over and over again.
“You’re mine now.”