I have five commandments: no physical intimacy with any of my clients; no contracts extending beyond two moons; no jobs involving children; no murder, and always pay half upfront.
I broke the very first rule. Twice.
I am a professional imposter with three years of experience. A widow, a long-lost heir, a distant relative, name it and I would become it. In my last rodeo, I was contracted to act as the daughter of an old man whose dying wish was to meet his daughter again. No one could bring themselves to tell him she was long dead, hence, my job.
As planned, I fulfilled my task, but the man who hired me was a poisonous attraction and I ended up being buried under him that same night, bodies locking and pleasures flying high. I had told myself it would never happen again, but here I am, two days later, in his bed again, feeling shamefully sated.
Ger is shaving himself in front of the mirror while I watch the manliness of his backside. I remind myself to not feel any form of attraction anymore. Enough is enough.
He seems to be staring at me from the mirror, I can tell.
"We have to stop now," I say.
"I mean I have to stop," I correct myself.
Even as he continues to graze the razor over his chest, he's still looking at me through the mirror. I wonder why he's not saying anything. Maybe he feels the same way? If that's the case then it's even better, no more attachments.
The sheets slide off my bare chest as I sit upright, and I notice my movement is suddenly arrested. I stare at my wrists, which have been fastened to chains on both sides.
"What is this?" I snap as I yank on the chains. They are heavy, so heavy even, that I can't understand how I didn't notice they were on me in the first place.
"Is this supposed to be some new trick?" I raise my voice with incredulity. "Get these off me, Ger."
I rattle the chains again, but all I hear in response is the scrape-scrape of the razor continuing its unhurried path down his belly. Even so, his eyes are on me in the mirror and this aggravates me even further. I can't get out of these chains until he lets me because they seem to have been specifically made stronger than I can break.
"I swear," I hiss, "I will kill you for this."
This, he reacts to, lowering the razor and turning slowly to face me. He flashes me a slow, chilling smile that kills all the memories of his former charm that were still in my head up until a few moments ago.
"Kill me?" He repeated.
Ger came closer towards the bed. "You are the one in chains. Does that not make you my prisoner?" He tilted his head.
"Prisoner? I walked in here myself. I allowed you to touch me," I spit and my pulse starts to kick faster the moment he begins to crawl into the bed.
All the allure I had seen in him days back has vanished. In his eyes is a calculating darkness that makes me feel cold.
He draws a line from my chin to my jaw with a finger and I jerk my head away, reeling with revulsion.
"Once upon a time, I spotted a stunning woman in the market…" His finger goes down my neck, "I stalked her for days, studied her routines and found a way, oh so carefully, to get close to her. I made her trust me, want me and walk willingly into my bed."
I'm stunned to my core realising he planned everything to get me here. Even the job. How did this happen to me, of all people? I'm the most pragmatic amongst my peers and it's the reason my handler trusts me with more sensitive jobs. Yet here I am, being the first to fall into such a trap and I feel so foolish for my lapse in judgment.
"If you already have me, what then is the need to tie me up?" I rattle the chains again.
His face is full of nothing but perverse amusement.
"Where would the fun be in not tying you up?" He pulls back slightly, his dark eyes holding mine captive.
"This is the point where I officially make you mine. My property. My sex slave."
My insides sink even further in the pit of disgust, a coil of fury working its way swiftly up my chest and I snarl, desperately throwing my weight against the chains.
"Uncuff me RIGHT NOW or I will scream this house down!"
Seeming laid back, he chuckles as he waves his hand at the walls. "You can scream all you want, but this inn belongs to me so I decide what sort of noise is relevant here. I could decide to bury you under the ground and no one would notice," he threatens with so much certainty I actually feel a prickle of fear down my back.
I feel his unwelcoming breath on my face as he smirks, "Get ready for me tonight. I'm going to show you things you've never even dreamed of. They don't call me the bedchamber butcher for nothing."
My eyes widen in their sockets and I can feel the chills seeping deeper into my bones as I stare at his face.
The bedchamber butcher is one of the many popular criminals whose stories are told to everyone so they can watch their backs. He would steal innocent women & men, violate them in the most gruesome ways and their bodies would be found later in public, after which the villages would be in terror for days and weeks.
And here I am, in his chains, probably like the many others he's imprisoned as well. One victim who lived only to tell the story (and had died the same day), said he had a goldtooth.
Now, as I watch him summon the creepiest smile, deliberately baring the entirety of his teeth, I see one of his canines protrude and change from white to golden.
It's really him.
An uncontrollable shudder takes hold of my body.
"You raping bastard," I curse, my imprisoned hands closing into hard fists.
Falling for his con is one thing. Ending up chained in the bed of this creature…I am in full disgust at myself for it.
"Shh." He tilts a finger directly to my lips, then especially played with my lower lip with a horrifying and possessive intimacy.
Seething with revulsion, I snarl, "You won't get what you want from me." I am trembling with the force of my hatred, trying to twist my face away from his violating touch.
He chuckles, "I already got it twice, though, didn't I?"
"There won't be a third, you monster…" I spit at him and he wipes it off his face and smiles. Then he leans closer, ignoring the way I recoil. He kisses me while I keep my lips sealed tight to the invasion.
With this, he gets off the bed, throws a shirt on and walks out. The moment the door closes behind him, it's as if I am finally sinking into the reality of everything that is going on, and it feels even heavier than the chains on my wrists.
If I ever get out of this mess, it has to be my very last rodeo. First of all, I have to get myself out of this mess. Looking frantically around the room, I try to find something that can be of help. Unfortunately, the room is almost completely empty. There's only the single large bed dominating the space, a sturdy but plain wooden chair, a small washstand with a basin, the candle stand and the tall, cracked mirror.
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By evening, I'm still enchained and my wrists are red and sore, both from the cuffs and my many attempts at trying to wiggle out of them. I can hear the distant sounds of the inn activities below, which even makes my isolation more emphasised. As the night is getting near, the dread and anxiousness in me becomes more insidious.
He's going to be back soon.
I shut my eyes tight and force air through my nose, fighting the tremor in my arms. "Think, think, think," I hiss at myself. There has to be something….anything, I just have to think!
I hear a noise at the door, seeing it come open and my body freezes. But it isn't Ger. It's one of his men, whose beady eyes just slide over my chained figure. He goes straight to the iron candelabra standing in the corner and replaces the candles from last night with new ones, then lights a fire that glows in the fast-darkening room.
His task complete, he turns towards the door again without a glance my way.
"Wait," I call.
He turns to me with a completely blank expression.
"I'm hungry," I state.
"That is none of my business," he snaps as he proceeds further out.
"Should I tell your master that you refused to give me food to eat when he specifically wants me prepared for tonight? I can't imagine what he would do to you."
"It doesn't seem to me like you're in any position to dictate what my master would do to me," he snaps back.
I smirk, challenging, "Do you want to try me? Ger spent weeks stalking me and spent so much time just to get me here. He doesn't even want me to ever leave," I shake the chains for emphasis.
"He's obsessed with me and when he comes in here tonight and he's buried deep inside me, drowning in his own pleasure, you can't imagine the things I'll be able to whisper into his ear about you." I'm close to nausea even as I say these words or imagine those actions.
But he seems a bit affected by my words; he thinks for a bit before he grunts. "What do you want to eat?"
"Bread…and dregbeer," I say quickly and he leaves.
As the sound of his footsteps fades down the corridor, I seem to feel more hollow and tired. I let my head fall back against the headboard and I stare at the candle flames, lost in them until the man returns with the food.
Unceremoniously, he places them on the edge of the bed near my hip.
"I can't possibly eat with my hands tied like this," I deadpan.
He snorts mockingly, "I can't get you out of those chains if that's the cheap trick you're playing."
"Feed it to me," I demand.
After some hesitation, he feeds me the entire chunk of bread. When the bread is gone, he unstoppers the gourd of beer, holds it to my mouth and I drink. He pulls the gourd away when it's half empty, stoppers it, gathers the trencher, and leaves.
Immediately after, I drag out a linen from the bedding with my feet and spit out all the dragbeer I had kept in my mouth over it. The day is fading fast and getting more threatening, so my plan has to work and work fast.
I gather the wet linen into a lump between my feet and toss it off the bed, towards the centre of the rug.
I then fix my eyes on the dancing candle flames.
Dregbeer usually has some content of firebrandy, which can be very flammable, as its particles change when heated. So warming up the beer in my mouth must have awakened those elements. All I have to do is get some candles to fall to the ground.
The curtains around the bedposts are secured with heavy rings and so I use my legs as a lever to yank them off. Gasping, sweating, and securing the ring between the toes of my left leg, I fling the ring hard. It hits the base of the candle stand and it topples over.
The fire begins to lick a path over the rug until it catches the linen and grows even bigger. I smile slowly at my victory, hoping however, that I don't actually end up burning to death in this room.
The fire is fast becoming a ravenous beast, its heat stinging and choking me. It's devouring everything in the room, including the bed.
"HELP! PLEASE! SOMEBODY!" I scream the hell out of my lungs but I'm about to burn in actual hell.
Ger storms into the room and his eyes are wide. He's stupefied with horror.
"Lirienne!" he bellows, the sound barely reaching me over the crackles and roars around, but I make sure to double my screams.
"GET ME OUT! PLEASE! GET ME OUT!" The flames are inches from my feet now and the heat is searing my skin through the sheets.
With a curse lost in the noise, he launches himself across the burning rug and vaults onto the bed. Ger immediately unlocks my right arm and it falls numbly away from the chains.
"How did this happen?!" he yells, already turning to the left wrist. His face is covered in soot and panic.
"I don't know!" I sob.
He continues to twist the lock on the left cuff helter-skelter and the key refuses to open it. He curses under his breath as he draws out his claws and drags the chains with all his might until they break.
I'm free. Ger, panting, tries to carry me towards the door but I kick him hard in the groin, sending him tumbling into the fire as I fly out of the door.