Chapter Fourteen
A week had gone by since Lisa had submitted herself to the lunatic known as Jackson Rippner. He had made her do degrading things, embarrassing things, sitting in her underwear aside. Her days had developed into a kind of macabre normality. In the morning she would be awakened by one Mr. Rippner, usually from him stripping her of the covers and speaking in overly loud, bright, and peppy tones, giving Lisa cause to very much just want to slap him, though she didn't dare. That didn't, however, stop the thought from crossing her mind every morning without fail. Think of your father, was the mantra she had started using. Every time she felt the need to inflict bodily harm she would repeat that phrase to herself, over and over until she was almost saying it out lout.
After her rude awakening she would then be given roughly fifteen minutes to shower and do "whatever it is that you people (she assumed he meant women) do in the bathroom," as Jackson so wonderfully put it. Before she was sent off the bathroom, though, she would be given detailed instructions on what shampoos to use and how to style her hair. If he wasn't so damned secure in his masculinity, he could almost pass for gay. These little bits helped keep Lisa sane throughout, any little way for her to relieve the stress of the situation. The situation you placed yourself in, don't forget. And she had started to develop the nasty habit of arguing with herself in her mind, but it was better than the innuendo filled conversations that occurred with, Jack.
She was honestly surprised that he let he bathe and 'primp' with the bathroom door closed. That was the only time he let her out of his sight. He had even taken to commanding that she keep the bathroom door open when she needed to...relieve herself. That was the utterly, most degrading part of her day, and she consistently tried to hold it until she went to bed; he never bothered her then and didn't seem to mind her use of the bathroom at odds times in the dark. He figured if she was doing that then she certainly wasn't sleeping. And a significantly low amount of sleep made it easier for him to control her. So, who was he to argue?
Upon exiting the bathroom, she would find a outfit laid out for her on the bed, bra and panties included. After taking a few minutes to look over the selection, Jackson would slip back into the room to stand in the corner to see, if any, the reaction he would get. He found it particularly interesting the day he had put out a leather corset, seeing her face heat up as she realized that there was no way that she would be able to lace it up on her own. That seemed to be the biggest of her problems, disregarding the fact that this piece of...clothing, would enhance certain aspects of her body. She quickly learned not to show embarrassment about her current wardrobe, for it only seemed to egg him on. And that was something that she did not want to do. He seemed to get enough of a sadistic kick out of tightening the leather death trap, as she called it, with over enthused glee, taking supreme pleasure (that was not a gun in his pocket she was sure) with every pull that made her flinch. Which he made sure was every one.
Once she was dressed, regardless of whether she needed his help on a give day or not, he would slowly walk around her, as a predator examines its prey. He would run his hands down her back, her arm, or across her stomach and watch her shiver as she attempted not to shy away from him.
After the Dressing of Lisa, which she abhorred every minute of, she told herself, especially when he caressed her body (that was her story and she was damn sure sticking to it), they would head downstairs to the kitchen. He would take great care in cooking for them making sure each meal was delectable and tantalizing so that in no way could she reject it on the grounds of it looking, and tasting, less than appealing. Jackson had at first contemplated the idea of having her cook for them both, but then decided against it, not wanting to give her free access to anything sharp, or blunt for that matter. They would sit together and he would make sure that, if she didn't completely finish the meal, then at least she ate a substantial enough amount of it. In the beginnings she would try to eat very little, but after he practically force-fed her she learned that it would be far better if she just fed herself. All meals, for the most part, proceeded this way varying only slightly depending if any problems had arisen during the day.
Between meals was an interesting time, at least for the man of the house. He never had anything set and planned, but flew by the seat of his pants. If something were to pop into his head, he would have her do it. Such as the example of when he decided the bathroom in the master bedroom needed to be cleaned and it could only be done properly if it was cleaned while wearing a push-up bra and thong (he, thankfully, let her cover up after). She had resisted at first, or made a feeble attempt at such, but Jackson was quick to squash any revolt. He was firm and strong, never wavering in anything he said, he absolutely refused to show mercy in anything he did and he was certainly taking that to the max.
Only at night, when she cried herself into a fitful sleep, did he feel a twinge in his thought to be long dead heart, but that too he squashed. There was no place for petty emotions here, they would only fuck things up, and that was not going to happen. Not on his watch. Jackson was quite happy at the progress she was making. Only a week and she seemed to pick up on behavioural problems and discrepancies and she fixed them almost immediately to suit his liking, but he was well aware of the feelings of animosity on her part. That was why he made sure to keep up a steady flow of upbeat conversation during the day, the majority of which was one-sided. Of course, said conversation did have intervals of full on taunting, teasing, and sexual discourse, but there was only so much he could let slide. He relished in the way she heated up and squirmed, but he wasn't so sure if the squirming was due to embarrassment, or if it stemmed from a darker reason.
Arousal.
He knew damn well that every time she squeezed her thighs together that it was not embarrassment dictating her actions. It was on the eighth day that he approached her with a handheld phone and a knowing look.
They were in the living room, she seated on the couch slightly more demure outfit; consisting of low slung, tight jeans and a low cut tank top. Demure by Jackson's standards, clearly.
"I need you to make a call," he said, phone outstretched.
Slowly, she took it from him, but could not keep the biting retort from flying out of her mouth, "What? Need another room change, Jack?"
He didn't respond to the barb, but continued to explain. "You are going to call you father and explain to him you have decided to take an extended vacation and you are not sure of when you will be back."
Lisa looked at the phone for a minute, a dejected sigh escaping her, she knew she had to do this and that she had no choice in the matter. If anything, she assured herself, she just going to reassure her dad that she was okay. He had to be going out of his mind by now, not having heard from her in over a week.
"Also tell him to call your hotel and inform them of your plans. Be convincing and don't fuck it up. You know the consequences." He waited a moment for her to digest the rest of it and when she still hadn't dialed her number, he spoke again. "What, are we waiting for a formal invitation? Get on with it."
Taking a deep breath she shakily dialed her home number, knowing her dad would pick it up right away.
"Hello?" he sounded out of breath. He must have run to get it. "Lisa? Honey is that you?"
She cleared her throat, "Hi, dad. I, uh, I'm sorry I haven't called you. I," she cleared her throat again, but abruptly stopped at the look Jackson shot at her, "just needed time to try and unwind and relax."
Joe breathed a sigh of relief, "I've been so worried. I nearly called the police on you."
"You didn't, did you?" She tried to stop the note of hopefulness from showing in her voice, but she wasn't entirely sure it worked. On the one hand she hoped that he did so that they would be alerted that something was amiss. On the other hand, however, she didn't even want to think of what Jackson would do if he found out her dad called the police. It would undoubtedly end badly for all involved, save himself.
"No, honey, I didn't. I would have if I didn't hear from you by tomorrow," Joe paused for a moment, "I know you don't like when I ask, but are you okay?"
Lisa clutched the phone tighter, "I'm fine, dad. But, um, I just called to let you know that I'm...taking an extended vacation," she shot a look at Jackson and continued on at his nod of approval, "I might head up north. I, uh...haven't been to Boston in a while. I just need to get away."
Joe chuckled, "You always did love it up there, especially in the fall. I remember when your mother and I took you up there winter when you were a little girl. Craziest weather I ever did see. What was it? Snowing one day and then the next it was almost sixty degrees. Still beautiful, though. How are you going to get up there? Train or car?" There was no need to ask about flights because they were both very aware that Lisa wouldn't take another flight if another mode of transportation were available.
A tear dripped down her cheek as her dad brought up childhood memories from when the Reisert's were still a happy family. She sniffed quietly before answering, "I'm going to drive." It was best that she stick to short, concise answers now. She was so close to losing her composure that she could taste it.
"Okay, baby, just call me when you get up there. I don't want to have to worry about you again, disappearing for days," he admonished her.
"Well, I can't daddy. My, um, cell phone broke. I accidentally dropped it and didn't realize. Cynthia stepped on it. I'm going to... er, get one when I get up there. Cingular's everywhere." So much for short answers, she had to swallow hard a few times to make sure her voice wouldn't break.
Joe sighed, clearly not happy with the answer. "Fine, Lisa. Just, promise that you'll call as soon as you can, alright?"
She nodded, but then she realized that he couldn't see her, "I promise. I need you to do me a favor though.
"Sure, sweetheart, what is it?"
Looking up at Jackson, she responded, "Call the hotel and just let them know? I'd just rather not have to deal with Cynthia right now."
"Okay, I'll do that right now. When do you want me to tell them that you'll be back?"
"I don't know, I haven't decided. Just tell them...tell them that I'll call on when I know."
He sighed again, "Lisa, I have to be honest here. I'm not too happy with you going away like this. Now, before you interrupt, I understand you need to get away. But we could go together, just you and your old man again. How's that sound?" He sounded so hopeful at the end that it broke her heart to continue this charade.
"I'm sorry, daddy. Just...let me do this. On my own," her voice dropped to a whisper, "I'll be fine, I promise." She didn't know if that last bit was for herself or her father. "I have to go now dad, I don't want to get stuck in traffic. You know 95 can be."
"All right. I love you, baby"
"I love you, too." And she hung up.
Jackson took the phone from her limp fingers, her gaze fixed firmly in front of her.
"Very nice, Leese."
That call was the last nail in the coffin, so to speak. And she couldn't help it, but she curled up on the couch and cried. Cried for her father, cried for her friends. But mostly, she cried for herself.
Hey everyone. Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I apologize about the delay. You can blame the huge amounts of homework that I have. But, the chappie is a little longer than normal, so hopefully that'll help make up for it. So, I did my part, you do yours. Review please. Getting those Review Alerts really do make my day.
And I just want to thank my beta again before I go. You're awesome. :o)