CHAPTER TWO
WELL-TRAINED
The present
Derek was moved into some kind of vehicle for a few hours. He could feel it running on the roads. He was blindfolded, of course, but when he was transferred to another place again, there was an unmistakable scent of sea air.
"Do you know where you are?" A feminine voice asked him. He wasn't sure he should say anything. He felt his shirt lift up, and two soft hands explored his chest. "Don't be mad, Derek. You'll learn everything in due time."
"We're on the coast," He replied, "though I'm not sure where...or even which one." A woman's laughter came from in front of him.
"Don't be so melodramatic. We didn't have time to bring you all the way across the country. But you're right: we're on the coast. I wanted to ask if you were prone to motion sickness—if you are, it can be hell when you're blindfolded on a boat."
"How considerate of you," Derek said, acidic. His shirt traveled higher, and fingers began tickling his sides. He burst into laughter.
"Listen, Mister Attitude. I understand that you're being inconvenienced," The voice got closer as Derek felt something grasp and pull his hair, twisting his head slightly to the side. "but I think we've kept you generally comfortable—considering what we're
capable
of doing." Derek shuddered as he felt teeth pinch his left earlobe. They relented, and a tongue danced in their place.
"True...and I'm grateful for that," Derek's tone was sincere now--submissive. He was such a good boy now. "I don't really get motion sickness, but thank you."
"Much better," a sultry voice whispered. A tongue lapped his ear again while another dove into his mouth. Lips met his. Fingertips played with his nipples again, and after a few kisses the mouth withdrew. Derek noticed that the sounds of the open sea were encapsulated again. He was inside somewhere again.
"So we're taking a boat ride?" Derek asked.
"I promised you daylight, didn't I?" Derek heard something shut. He felt his blindfold untie. It fluttered away in front of him. Derek could see two dim walls of this space, but little else. He was still restrained and hovering, so other than the way sounds reverberated, he had little clue as to where he was. Then he saw something odd—were the walls swaying? "I'm going to put you down and untie you, but don't leave immediately, okay? It's dangerously bright outside with the glare off the water, and you'll regret not letting yourself adjust slowly."
"Where am I?" Derek felt himself placed on the ground. Whatever was binding his feet had uncoiled, and now the silk tying his wrists behind him was doing the same.
"A storage cabinet. I'm going to open the door a crack—my recommendation is to look at the indirect light on the walls first, let yourself adjust, then push the door open little by little. Once you've adjusted to the brightest light on the walls in here, then you should be able to bear turning around and going into the main cabin."
Derek's eyes burned when the slit of blazing white light hit the back wall. He turned away from it, looking at the darkest part of the cabinet.
"Can I ask where you got a boat?" Derek asked, squinting at the wall.
"We'll talk when you're ready to come out," the voice answered. "Give your eyes some time—they haven't seen anything more than a dim glow for 72 hours." So the last time he saw light was three days ago. It wasn't as long as he figured.
He was still trying to make sense of why he was here. Asking didn't help—the clothes seemed to offer information of some kind for just about everything except motivation. The days before the kidnapping were still fuzzy for him, but the casual nature of his captors on the boat reminded him of the first couple of days after Jackie's clothes came to life.
Three weeks ago
Jackie's things were all over him every second they had the chance. Her leather gloves, for instance, had taken it upon themselves to hide in the couch cushions.
"I'm going to make tea, you want a cup?" Jackie asked.
"Uh, yeah...sure." Derek answered. He was ready for it as soon as she left, but he didn't know where it would come from. A glove shot out from between the cushions and filled out to the contours of a hand. He tried to grab at it, but it was too fast. It gripped his wrist and pulled him forward. After being yanked off of the couch, he felt the other glove grip his ass. "Hey, hey..." Derek said quietly as he landed on his hands and knees. The glove around his wrist moved between his legs and slapped his ass.
Before he could react, both gloves pulled at the waistband of his pants, throwing him back onto the couch. Now they were at the front of his pants, unbuttoning them.
"I don't think you should--" Derek's whisper was halted with an invisible mouth kissing his. One of the leather gloves stroked him through his underwear. He shuddered. His hands were held back by his own shirtsleeves as he tried to reach for the gloves. At this point there was no point in fighting them, but he still made a few token objections. Somehow, no matter what he did, they were always able to sense when Jackie was coming.
After a few seconds they dove back into the couch cushions. Derek felt the lips let up on him. When he could move his hands again, he found that his pants were already zipping themselves back up unassisted. He let out a sigh just before Jackie walked back into the room again.
"You okay, hon?" Jackie asked, seeing Derek's red face. He shrugged.
"I'm fine," Derek said, half-laughing. "I just remembered something I forgot to do at work."
And on it went. Soon he'd be so used to it that he wouldn't even look flustered when Jackie got back into the room. It was mostly harmless grab-ass and submission games, but a few days after Derek was aware of them, they had to seriously make their authority clear.
It only took once. He boldly threatened to expose them, and they indifferently reminded him how simple it would be to lose control of his car and go on an off-road adventure. No one would be hurt, they promised, except his reputation. And if he wished to continue asserting his pretension of control, they would show him just how easy it would be for a "man in control" to—from an outsiders perspective—lose all touch with reality.
"But why would you do that to me?" Derek asked Jackie's robed outfit, standing in front of him with sleeves at its hips.
"Darling, we wouldn't need to do that to you unless you decided to do something silly like try and expose us," The outfit stepped forward, raising an invisible sleeve to Derek and placing an invisible hand on his chest. "You've been a very good boy for the last couple of days, so you're the last person that should be worrying about it. Keep cooperating, keep the passive-aggressive comments to a minimum, and just try and enjoy yourself."
Derek couldn't help but let out something between a sigh and a sneer. And did they say
last
