Chapter 14

On Your Knees With An Eagerness To Please

The morning sunlight streamed through the small barred window of the cell, a rarity at this time of year. A small treat for many patients affected by such environmental details who awoke from their troubled slumbers to a warm glow surrounding them. Some whistled jovially as they walked towards the dining hall, only pausing in their moment of solitary joy as they passed room eleven. Others who remained silent yet happy were quickly drawn away from their light-hearted attitudes by the peculiar sounds coming not from room eleven, but from room thirteen.

Best not get involved. Best just to keep walking and ignore it. It was not their problem, not their concern.

The sun gave enlightenment within the walls of cell thirteen and Abigail cursed the sun for revealing her predicament further.

She squirmed and desperately tried to jostle herself away but her hands were fastened behind her back so tightly the blood no longer reached her fingertips. She bucked her hips but Ryan's face did not move from between her thighs, he gripped them tighter and drove his salivating tongue against her again as he had done for the past ten minutes.

He sensed her body language, could feel every twitch of her muscles, every crack in her voice, every jolt that made her squirm. He was a perfectionist, he was proud of his abilities and one of them was making any woman reach climax if he chose; every woman had a particular method and he keyed into them quickly. He wanted her to experience it, her first orgasm. In his mind, it solidified the thought she enjoyed it as much as he; it ensured that she would be his alone. He would be the only man to make her feel that way and he would not give up without a fight.

Her body trembled with sensations she had never felt before, something akin to heat spread from her loins and her lower extremities tingled as though they too were devoid of blood but a very different tingling in nature. Her breath caught in her throat, her gasps were shallow; what witchcraft was this he had placed upon her? What was this feeling inside her?

Her muscles tensed and Ryan sensed her peaking, he would have her soon in his grasp and bestow on her pleasures she had never felt before.

A sharp tapping came from the door, interrupting the rhythm of the moment. Both Ryan and Abigail locked eyes in shock.

"Gov?" a voice spoke, much too loud to be a whisper but clearly hushed enough to not draw unnecessary attention, "It's Smyth. I need to speak with you,"

"Not now," Ryan responded as he rose his head in vehement reluctance from his task.

"It's urgent, the Captain sent me,"

Ryan sighed, much aggrieved at the interruption. The moment had clearly been lost, but he would eagerly try again if he could only get rid of the annoyance outside the cell. He knew though that it would not leave until it had said it's piece, "I'll finish this later, sweetheart," he assured her as he clothed himself and went to the door. Abigail watched as it opened and lay with large pleading eyes as she saw Smythie there.

"What are you doing here?" Ryan asked harshly, staring hard at the tiny man. Smythie turned a ghastly pale as he lured his eyes away from the scene of the young girl clearly bound in the room behind the predator, naked and ashamed.

Smythie readjusted himself quickly to not make it obvious where his attention was, "Sorry to interrupt your… um… your… your liaison… but I've got news. We secured a large shipment last night. Large quantities of opioids were delivered to the premises late last night and we were able to obtain a significant amount for distribution,"

Ryan listened half-heartedly, wiped his mouth, "I couldn't be happier for you. See you tomorrow," he went to close the door.

"Gov," Smythie continued, placing his hand on the cell door, "The Captain was most displeased you weren't there to join us last night in the retrieval. He wants to see you. Now," his eyes darted in both directions as though he suspected devious ears hearing them talk.

Ryan contemplated this quickly, "Give me ten minutes," attempting to close the door once again.

"Sir-" Smythie pushed back and instantly regretted it.

"Five minutes then!" Ryan yelled a bestial roar that made Smythie step back in panic, "I'll even keep my damn shirt on!" he slammed the door shut, caring little for the crashing echo that resonated down the hall.

He stood, supporting himself on the iron of the door for a while as he drew deep, steadying breaths into himself. He did not wish to leave, not now, not when he was in the middle of something so delicate. But he knew well enough that if he did not show his face, that Jim would surely be the next one to come knocking on the door and that he would not simply be able to slam the door in that man's face without repercussions.

After a long time spent grinding his teeth and throwing thoughts around his head, always diverting back to his prize upon the bed, he relented.

"I'll be back soon, my dear," before he left, he made sure to kiss her deeply, allowing Abigail the first opportunity to taste herself on his tongue. The thought of it repulsed her. She wished to ask him to untie her while he was gone, but no such words would be spoken. Ryan would leave her bound in preparation for their next amorous encounter.

"Ah!" Jim cheered as Ryan came into view, "The wayward son returns,"

Ryan though was in no mood for jolly banter or banality, "Make it quick, Jim. I have something ongoing,"

"So I hear," the large man raised a cocky eyebrow as he stood up from the most rear pew of the chapel. It was uncommon for Jim to be here, he only used it for affairs that dealt with a most confidential of matters, and those such things never involved the attendance of a priest, "You've been a busy boy with your little whore, haven't you?"

"She's no whore…" Ryan jabbed.

"No, of course not," Jim smirked, "But she's your whore now, isn't she?"

"Let's not trifle, what do you want?"

Jim looked his savage beast up and down; he was dishevelled, a far away look in his eyes, a jitteriness to his self that screamed a desire to leave. Jim returned to his seat and lit his pipe.

"You weren't with us last night,"

"I was otherwise engaged," Ryan said.

"Oh very clever, my dear boy. We both know what you were up to and yet you continue with these trivial non-committal answers. I like that… what I don't like however, is seeing one of my crew taking advantage of his shore leave,"

"This is not one of your ships, I am not one of your crew. You don't own me," Ryan scowled.

"That's where you are quite wrong, darling," Jim puffed out smoke rings as though this conversation were dull, "I have you by your scrotum with my teeth if you'll excuse the saying. I could have you sequestered to your quarters, your keys removed and the locks changed with one single word to those in charge. I could have her moved, transferred even. If that happens, then there'll be no more cock dipping for you. In fact, I may even start attending to you myself if you get lonely at night,"

Fuck… Ryan suddenly came back to himself. The threat was genuine. He was indeed scared of what Jim could potentially do to him, but he was even more afraid of what being cut off from his antibody would do. He finally had the perfect little siren at his bequest, a silent body who would succumb to him and could barely fight back, everything he needed. He could not bare the thought of being ripped away from her.

"What do you want from me, then?" he asked sombrely. He did not see Jim smirking.

"You will assist in the distribution of opioids today, some of the boys need their payment," Jim twirled his pipe in the air leaving smoky circles, "After that, there is to be a nice quiet business meeting in the library and then you may escort the asylum whore fodder to and from their liaisons,"

"That's my whole damn day, Jim," Ryan protested, "I need to check on her at some point,"

A quiet chuckle came from Jim, "Why is that then?"

"She could be handled if I'm not there,"

"Smyth will watch her for you,"

"He has keys to nearly every door and can pick locks, why would I trust him not to touch her?"

Annoyed at the continuous back talk, Jim rose hastily from his seat and turned to face the young man down before him, "He's a good little dog is our Smyth, and a good dog won't touch a steak unless I tell him to, understand? Your little whore will be quite safe with him outside her door,"

Frustrated but left with no alternative, Ryan gave an inaudible snarl, conflicted by addiction and servitude, "May I at least have time to prepare myself?" he could barely look up from the ground.

"You have ten minutes, if you're not back here by then… well, I think you know the consequences,"

Ryan rushed back to cell thirteen. Ten minutes was all he needed.

He quickly locked the door behind him and began untying the binds that held Abigail in bondage. Her sigh of relief was short lived. Ryan grabbed her by her throat and forced her against the wall. A look in his eyes that horrified her. Was he angry? What had happened that could anger him so?

After the events of the morning, he knew her voice was useless once more, a small pity, but it was irrelevant at this moment.

"What is your name?" he asked her viciously.

Her eyes displayed her confusion and pleaded with him to release her.

He squeezed a little tighter, "What is your name?" he asked again.

Scared and completely unsure what this meant, bewildered at how she could even answer his question, she did the only thing she could think of, she went to mouth her name. No sooner had she done so, Ryan clutched her throat so hard she could barely breathe.

"Wrong!" he yelled and spat at her, "Your name… is whore," a barely distinguishable smile began to form at the corners of his mouth, "Do you understand? What is your name?" he loosened his grip.

Abigail had never heard that word before. She foolishly went again to answer, Abigail.

Ryan stopped her at seeing her mouth form the name, "Say it!" he screamed at her, "Your name is whore!"

She wept uncontrollably at hearing his voice so angry and hate filled. She could only nod her head, there was something about the word whore that made her not wish to attempt uttering it.

"Yes," he whispered as he leaned closer to speak into her ear. He licked her neck, "You're my whore… my little whore,"

A tense stillness overcame them both. No one would ever touch her like he would and she would be his alone to use as he saw fit. Jim was right, she was his whore and he would ensure it remained that way.

"You are mine. Understand?"

She nodded again, her breath held fast. She did not wish to incur his wrath further.

"Good," he whispered as he pushed her down the wall in front of him. She kept her eyes tightly closed as she heard him undressing, "Now, be a good whore and put your mouth to good use,"

She forced herself to be physically sick after he left her, wishing to purge her body of whatever it was he had forced her to swallow with his hand clamped over her mouth. The sounds of her retching must have been loud enough to hear from outside for a gentle voice greeted her.

"Hey," it said.

She looked up with a frightened expression and saw the shutter ever so slightly open. Whoever was there was stood just outside but not in direct view. It was not Ryan's voice, but she recognised it.

Smythie rubbed his neck uncomfortably from his position outside her room. He knew he shouldn't be talking to her, but the sounds of her vomiting were unsettling and he could not stand to hear it.

"Listen… it's not my place to say, but please just be still and quiet, alright,"

She scrambled around, first getting her smock off the cold floor to dress, she was now relieved to have the simple item of clothing that made her itch. Then she grabbed her pencils and chalk from the ground, her pile of blank papers soon followed. She frantically scrawled a note and passed it through the gap in her door, tapping her nails against the iron to get Smythie's attention.

Reluctantly, Smythie took it, never taking his constant gaze away from the long hallways that led here. He was at least happy to know that the paths stretched so far, it would be hard for anyone coming from either side to see what he was doing.

Abigail's broken voice made small whimpers, imploring him to read the note.

Smythie sighed as he looked down at it.

"Help me," was scribbled upon it.

"I can't," he answered her in a hushed voice, "You don't know what they'll do to me," Another note was passed swiftly.

"What is he doing to me?" It asked.

He sucked air through his clenched teeth. Damn… was she really so ignorant?

He asked her what she meant, not wishing to make her feel stupid. A quick answer reached him with another slip of paper and he realised that she was indeed naïve to her own predicament.

"He places parts of himself inside me. Why does he do it?"

"Fuck," he whispered and pinched his nose. How old was she? Had her parents not had the foresight to explain this to her? Had no one told her about this fucking intrinsic part of life? He was sure he read she was eighteen years old, how the fuck does an eighteen-year-old not know?

"Wait, you were a virgin? Nevermind, don't answer that," he could hear her writing a response already but feared she did not even know what the word meant if she did not understand what was happening to her now. But now his burden felt even heavier knowing he had led a virgin into this monster's arms.

Abigail waited impatiently but quietly inside her room. She could hear Smythie shifting uncomfortably outside. Was it really so horrible that he could not explain it? She focused on his strained breaths, anything to take her mind off the bitter taste Ryan had left in her mouth.

"Listen," he began with a dry mouth, "Technically, what he's doing to you is natural, it's part of life…"

He already anticipated the next note, "What is he doing to me?"

He thought it best to revert back to what his father had told him rather than his old friends who had exaggerated and lied through their teeth about their own experiences as young teenagers obsessed with the allure of a pair of tits they could call their own.

"Look, it's not that bad. Men and women do it all the time. I mean, there are people who say you should be married before you do it, but that's their opinion if you ask me. You believe in God right? Well, God made man and woman and he made them different so that a man could, as you say, put himself inside a woman," he wondered whether to make the addition of commenting on homosexuality, but having gone down the religious route he thought better of it. No need to confuse the poor girl further with elements of other notions of sexuality and gender preferences in there.

"People do this all the time?"

"Your mother and father did,"

The very notion of her dead father and plump mother holding hands was alien to her. The thought of her father doing to her mother what Ryan had done to her made her heave without the aid of fingers down her throat.

"I know you think I'm lying, but I'm not. Like I said, people do it frequently, in and out of marriage," he was unsure if he should add the next part, but wanted to alleviate the young girls suffering anyway he could. Perhaps by bending the truth a little, he could turn it around, "Men do this to women they're attracted to. Women they love. In a way, I suppose… you should feel flattered he's chosen to do it to you. I can assure you he's not done it to any other woman since coming here. He… he must really like you,"

She had so many questions. It seemed almost perverse that it was something spoken about so lightly, something that everyone seemingly did that she had no prior knowledge of. In some way, what Smythie said made sense, but one question could not be left unanswered.

"Is it also natural for him to put himself in my mouth?"

Smythie very nearly walked away in embarrassment at having to answer the question, "Yes…" he responded reluctantly, "The thing is, God created us to do this and he also made it so that we would find it enjoyable and pleasurable. The problem with Ryan… is that he gets so much enjoyment out of it that he becomes… well, I don't need to tell you, I'm sure,"

Her legs felt weak, she stepped back to the wall and slid herself down. This was all too much to take in. Did this mean that what Ryan did to her was out of love? Why did it hurt her then? Why had she not felt pleasured by it? Was there something wrong with her?

Her sudden silence was unnerving. Smythie hoped he had not scared her, "Look, just take my advice. Don't fight him,"

Abigail looked up from the floor, remembering how Ryan had said the same thing.

"Perhaps if you relax a little, just let him do what he wants, perhaps it'll get easier. Perhaps you'll even start to, like it too…" having read Ryan's file and his confessed methods, he knew he was painfully lying to her, "I speak from experience here, just do as he says. It'll be easier," that part was not a lie.

Smythie kept his guard, only leaving when inspection occurred and returning back again moments after it was over. He shooed away any who ventured and loitered in the hall, telling them only that it was on Captain's orders when they asked why he stood outside the cell of someone softly sobbing.

He kept his head down when he finally spotted Ryan returning with the distant striking of the church bells at three o'clock in the morning.

No words were spoken between the two men as they approached.

Ryan's eyes were bloodshot with exhaustion which only added to the menace held within them as he confidently strode towards his long awaited reward. He had unfinished business to attend to.

He reacted quickly at passing Smythie.

Ryan forced him back against the wall, his arm under Smythie's chin. He leaned closer and sniffed deeply, as though trying to pick up some secret scent. Smythie's heart froze in his chest as Ryan grabbed hold of his hands, inspected each finger and sniffed them too.

Ryan simply had to be sure this little vermin had not touched his antibody, only he could touch his whore and if Smythie had so much as moved a hair on her head he would know her scent upon him. Satisfied with his inspection, he relinquished his hold of Smyth and let him go without a word.

Ryan let himself into the room to see Abigail finally asleep after a full two days without rest. He could appreciate this, she was as exhausted as he was if not more so, but at that same moment he felt infuriated she was not eagerly awaiting his return to her side. He would wait here until she awoke and then he would teach her to respect him.