seconds. She turned round to explain that this wasn’t her idea, that she hadn’t wanted to escape, but the back of her head exploded in agony, and then there was only darkness.
CHAPTER NINE
Hope’s eyelids fluttered open. It took a moment to piece together the fragments of memory.
One atrocious scene after another played in her mind in no particular order; her little brother, tied up and helpless, orgasming after Rohan whipped her, Isobel breaking down in front of the factory staff and her own arousal and humiliation….
I hate myself , was her first coherent thought.
She groaned, forcing her eyes to focus on the new surroundings.
Where am I now?
Frying pan to fire, sprang to mind. She forced herself to try to remember what happened after she was knocked unconscious in the hallway, but she drew a blank.
Struggling to overcome her blurred vision, she forced the fuzzy shapes to merge together. She was in a room; a room she had never seen before. It was tiny with just enough room for the single bed on which she lay. The room was devoid of any other furniture, including bed-linen of any description, and was sparsely decorated. The walls were white-washed, non-descript, the floor a beige carpet. From the high-ceiling hung a bare bulb. Only then did she notice there was no window in the room, just a door which instinctively she knew had to be locked. Invisible hands squeezed her skull as she struggled into a sitting position. Dispassionately she noticed she was naked, although her constant nudity no longer shocked her as it once had. Now her head was beginning to clear a little, she tentatively flexed each muscle of her body in turn. She hurt, she felt battered and achy like she was getting over a bout of flu, but nothing was broken. Her knees felt stiff and swollen and her ankles and wrists still throbbed where they had been lashed to the ‘X’ frame.
The headache was the worst, though, not helped by severe dehydration. She no idea how long she’d been unconscious, how many hours it had been since she’d last had a drink. Her throat made funny clicking noises every time she swallowed and it was impossible to muster enough spit to moisten the inside of her parched mouth.
Glancing downwards, she saw a small bottle of water by the side of the bed. Greedily, she snatched it up, not caring that the plastic seal had been broken. She gulped down the lot, revelling in the sensation of the water hitting her stomach and fanning outwards through her limbs, bringing with it the strongest surge of energy, of life itself. Her head cleared a little, like her brain had instantly soaked up the water like a bone-dry sponge.
The empty water bottle slipped through her fingers, landing silently on the carpet. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up on trembling legs. As she did so, there was a scraping sound that caused her to stiffen and stand perfectly still, every muscle in her body coiled tight. The round doorknob turned and her paralysis broke. She stumbled backwards, her legs still shaky and unsure, and she pressed her back against the small wall-space by the top of the bed.
The door swung inwards and even before she saw who stood framed in the door, she knew who it would be.
“Hello Hope. I trust you slept well?”
As slim as he was, Michael Cooper cut an imposing figure. Dressed in his customary suit, his greying black hair neatly swept back and his green eyes glittering with intelligence and ill-suppressed mirth, he stepped into the box-room. He filled up the small space surely and absolutely, making her cower in the corner like a beaten dog.
“There’s no need to be such a scaredy-cat, Hope. Please remove your arms from your breasts and stand up straight.”
Hope found her teeth were chattering, even though it was warm in the room. She straightened up, dropping her arms to her side.
“Better. You have displeased me, Hope, although it does not come
CHAPTER NINE
Hope’s eyelids fluttered open. It took a moment to piece together the fragments of memory.
One atrocious scene after another played in her mind in no particular order; her little brother, tied up and helpless, orgasming after Rohan whipped her, Isobel breaking down in front of the factory staff and her own arousal and humiliation….
I hate myself , was her first coherent thought.
She groaned, forcing her eyes to focus on the new surroundings.
Where am I now?
Frying pan to fire, sprang to mind. She forced herself to try to remember what happened after she was knocked unconscious in the hallway, but she drew a blank.
Struggling to overcome her blurred vision, she forced the fuzzy shapes to merge together. She was in a room; a room she had never seen before. It was tiny with just enough room for the single bed on which she lay. The room was devoid of any other furniture, including bed-linen of any description, and was sparsely decorated. The walls were white-washed, non-descript, the floor a beige carpet. From the high-ceiling hung a bare bulb. Only then did she notice there was no window in the room, just a door which instinctively she knew had to be locked. Invisible hands squeezed her skull as she struggled into a sitting position. Dispassionately she noticed she was naked, although her constant nudity no longer shocked her as it once had. Now her head was beginning to clear a little, she tentatively flexed each muscle of her body in turn. She hurt, she felt battered and achy like she was getting over a bout of flu, but nothing was broken. Her knees felt stiff and swollen and her ankles and wrists still throbbed where they had been lashed to the ‘X’ frame.
The headache was the worst, though, not helped by severe dehydration. She no idea how long she’d been unconscious, how many hours it had been since she’d last had a drink. Her throat made funny clicking noises every time she swallowed and it was impossible to muster enough spit to moisten the inside of her parched mouth.
Glancing downwards, she saw a small bottle of water by the side of the bed. Greedily, she snatched it up, not caring that the plastic seal had been broken. She gulped down the lot, revelling in the sensation of the water hitting her stomach and fanning outwards through her limbs, bringing with it the strongest surge of energy, of life itself. Her head cleared a little, like her brain had instantly soaked up the water like a bone-dry sponge.
The empty water bottle slipped through her fingers, landing silently on the carpet. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up on trembling legs. As she did so, there was a scraping sound that caused her to stiffen and stand perfectly still, every muscle in her body coiled tight. The round doorknob turned and her paralysis broke. She stumbled backwards, her legs still shaky and unsure, and she pressed her back against the small wall-space by the top of the bed.
The door swung inwards and even before she saw who stood framed in the door, she knew who it would be.
“Hello Hope. I trust you slept well?”
As slim as he was, Michael Cooper cut an imposing figure. Dressed in his customary suit, his greying black hair neatly swept back and his green eyes glittering with intelligence and ill-suppressed mirth, he stepped into the box-room. He filled up the small space surely and absolutely, making her cower in the corner like a beaten dog.
“There’s no need to be such a scaredy-cat, Hope. Please remove your arms from your breasts and stand up straight.”
Hope found her teeth were chattering, even though it was warm in the room. She straightened up, dropping her arms to her side.
“Better. You have displeased me, Hope, although it does not come
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