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Shit.

I’d agreed to something I didn’t even fully understand. Wasn’t I smarter than this? Evidently not. Brendon fell silent after I agreed, and he was currently lathering a wet washcloth with soap. He glanced at me, “Is everything okay?” Did he really want to know?

I didn’t respond.

He didn’t ask again.

I involuntarily shuddered as Brendon dragged the washcloth over my arm, gently cleansing me. I let myself relax a bit as he continued on, very gently washing my neck and then my ears… and he was very thorough. I’d never been washed by someone else before. It was relaxing, but odd. It felt good. I tensed as Brendon’s hand went towards my sides, as he attempted to sneak around my shirt. “What is it?” Brendon demanded, eyes burning with something unknown.

I just shook my head, not prepared to explain my issues to anyone… other than my therapist. He was paid to listen to me, and he didn’t look down on me- nor did he shower me with sympathy. That’s why I paid him what I paid him- though I was next to broke as I dealt with my student loans and car repair issues.

Brendon sighed heavily but let the issue go, moving on.

He washed /everywhere/. Holy shit. I let my eyes fall closed as his fingers worked the washcloth in to, around, and on every single area of my body. Every inch tingled by the time he was done.

As I stared at him I found it so hard to see a just eighteen year old boy as I saw the man that had roughed me up and was now gently caressing my body with a washcloth.





**



Brendon stepped out first, and I stayed in the cooled down water as he stared at me- drying his body very slowly. I found my eyes travelling, a pink flutter of embarrassment covering my cheeks quickly as our eyes met- a ghost of a smile upon his lips. He knew I was checking him out. How could he not?

He grabbed a clean, dry towel and held it open. “Come here.” I hesitantly stood, exiting the bath. It was so nice and comfortable in there though… and somewhat safe, unless he decided to drown me. “You’ll have to take that damn shirt off.”

Oh no.

“I can’t.”

“You can and you will.”

“I don’t have another to wear.”

“You can wear one of mine.” Brendon’s eyes burned in to me, causing yet another involuntary shudder to pass through my body.

“Um, okay. Can you get it for me?” I stepped in to the towel, wrapping it around me, despite my drenched shirt wetting it more than necessary.

“Of course.” Brendon mumbled, quickly leaving.

I stood in the cold bathroom, trying to keep my thoughts at bay. I couldn’t think things through- not here, not anywhere near Brendon.

He returned all too quickly, holding a plain white t-shirt and a pair of grey boxers. He set them upon the bathroom counter and glanced at me, “I will give you five minutes, no longer.”

I didn’t say anything and he exited.

I wanted to sit and think- use the time to my advantage… but instead I quickly dried, and after tossing the towel on to the counter I pulled my shirt off- needing to re-dry.

Once I was sufficiently dry I grabbed Brendon’s shirt and pulled it over me, letting it fall comfortably around me. Next I stepped in to the boxers, feeling surprisingly comfortable with the outfit. I grabbed the wet towel and hung it upon the shower rod before exiting the bathroom.

Brendon was in his bedroom, which I passed by without thinking to stop. “Hey, where the hell do you think you’re going?”

I paused, my face flushing.

Brendon appeared next to me within seconds. “I don’t hear an answer.” He calmly said.

“I – I need to get home Brendon.” Please just let me go.

“You’re not going anywhere tonight.” Brendon answered.

“But Brendon-“ I closed my mouth at the look he gave me, my heart beating too quickly.

“Bedroom.” He commanded.

My shoulders fell as I sighed in despair. With heavy footsteps I dragged myself to his bedroom, sitting upon his bed. He couldn’t keep me here forever…

Brendon sat beside me.

It was quiet for a few minutes.

“When can I go home again?” I asked, my toes nervously curling up. I wanted so badly to mess with my nails but I refused to.

Brendon placed his finger against my lips, “Don’t speak unless you’re given permission.” Oh.

I didn’t like that.

I frowned but fell silent.

I watched as Brendon scooted towards his beside stand and he looked for something in the drawer for a few minutes before pulling out something that was fluffy and black… What was that? As he pulled them within view I found out. It was another pair of handcuffs. Oh no.

Without thinking about it I began to rub my wrist gently. It still hurt from the other pair. “No, please don’t Brendon.” I had already forgotten about not speaking without permission but his cold glare quickly reminded me and I fell silent once again.

“Which wrist?” Brendon asked, gaze softening.

I scooted up higher on the bed to make myself comfortable and then offered him my other wrist, the one that didn’t hurt from my earlier cuff attention. He quickly cuffed it, “Is it more bearable?” He asked, as he cuffed the other side to the bedpost once again.

It was soft… but the bite was still there when I relaxed my wrist, “How long will I be cuffed like this?” I asked, gazing at him.

“Not more than thirty minutes.” Thirty minutes?

“It’s not as bad.” I finally muttered, looking away from him.

I was humiliated and confused… and I felt so fucking used.

I heard his footsteps and then he was gone.

Where the hell did he go off to?