Just Curious

It took longer than normal to post last week, I'm not sure why. Hopefully this week will be quicker.

Enjoy.

*****

Chapter 8 (Tuesday)

Something is catching my attention, pulling me out of slumber. I recognize that I'm lying on my stomach; I must have rolled over sometime during the night. I hate sleeping on my stomach. I try to roll over, but I can't get my arms down. It takes another half second to remember my wrists are cuffed to the headboard. Someone is working on the cuffs. It must be Marcus.

My wrists are finally released. My eyes slowly open as I start to shift position. It's only been a few seconds since I was sleeping soundly. I feel happy. The warm comfy blanket is stripped off me. Firm hands are on my shoulders and waist. Suddenly I'm pulled off the bed and dropped on the floor. What the fuck! I try to move, but Marcus grabs my hair and forces me to stay down. "Don't even fucking think about it."

The deep, powerful, angry voice stops me. I hold my breath and wait. I have no clue what's going on. He pulls my hair so I'm looking up at him. He looks livid. "Kneel."

I twist so I can get into position, not daring to challenge him until I figure out what's wrong. I'm kneeling; legs spread wide, staring up at him with pleading eyes, hair still caught in Marcus's hand. We stay like this in total silence for about a minute, but it seems like an eternity to me. "If you fucking move, we are done. Do you understand? Done!" He pushes my head forward before releasing me, then storms out of the room.

I sit there, scared to move a muscle. What happened? Is this a test? It has to be a test, right. I was just sleeping; I can't get him that angry by just sleeping. I sit and wait. Clinging to the hope that this is a test, because I have no idea what else it could be.

*********

He's walking back from his morning workout. He checked on the girl before he went down and she was sleeping soundly. He spins the baby monitor in his hand, thinking about all the possibilities for today. It's going to be a good day.

He puts his gear away and uses the bathroom. Then he heads to his girls room. First things first: time to see if she'll accept kneeling for breakfast. He gets to the door and just looks in, in case she's awake. She's moving on the bed. He silently steps into the room to get a better look. She's on her belly. One leg is straight, but the other is bent, with the knee almost up at waist level. Her hips are slowly moving up and down under the blankets. It takes another second for a huge smile to form. She's fucking the bed, in her sleep. Horny little thing, ain't she.

He walks closer to the bed, to get a better view. He wonders if he can punish her for this. By the lax facial expression, she is still asleep. Can't punish someone for their dreams, can he? He could, if he wanted to, but does he want to?

He watches her, enjoying the slow even thrusts of her hips. He wonders if he can get the blanket off her without her waking up. He doesn't think so, so he'll just enjoy the show from here. He's just about to go get a chair from the corner, when everything changes. Pleasure turns to anger. Her quirkiness becomes a betrayal. A slap in the face.

"mmmm please. Please fuck me. Please Dustin. Please use me. I'm yours." Dustin? She's fucking Dustin! In my bed. In my condo. Dustin? No fucking way that is going to happen...

He releases her wrist restraints. He can feel the anger coursing through his veins. He rips the blanket off her naked body. Supposed to be naked. Fucking panties. Never again. He grabs her upper body and hips and drags her out of bed. He guides her to the floor. She's awake now, and trying to right herself. He grabs her by the hair to control her. "Don't even fucking think about it." She stops moving. He recognizes his anger. He pulls her so he can look at her terrified face. He knows he needs to get control of himself.

"Kneel." He watches, counting backward from ten, as she struggles into position. How do you control some ones dreams? Maybe he should just send her home before something bad happens. He watches her for a while, contemplating the possibilities. He needs to get some distance to think about this. "If you fucking move, we are done. Do you understand? Done!" He rips his hand out of her hair, as he storms out of the room.

Shower. He needs a shower. Time to think. Time to calm down. What is the best way to fix this? He admits he might have over-reacted. Either way, it's his responsibility to fix this. God, how long of a shower is this going to take?

*********

I wait. Trying not to be afraid. Green light. Yellow light. Red light. I wait.

I sense him more than see him or hear him. I know he's by the door. I know he's watching me. I stay as still as can be. He's walking into the room; I can hear his feet shuffling on the carpet.

"Don't be afraid, little girl. You are not in any trouble. I need you to know you are safe here. Will you let me touch you now?" Touch me! He wants to touch me? It's a test. It has to be. I nod my head yes, but I still don't look up at him.

Gentle hands are on my shoulders, urging me to stand. "Time for breakfast." The hands start to guide me out the bedroom.

"Please. May I use the bathroom first? Please." I'm pressing my legs together to keep myself from having an accident. "Please."

"Of course. Go, but keep the door open." I waddle quickly to the bathroom and sit down. I see Marcus standing near the other doorway. Any other time, I wouldn't be able to go, but the urgency is almost painful. When I'm done, I wash my hands and face, then brush my hair and teeth. I go back out into the bedroom. I stop about three feet away from Marcus, not willing to get within his reach just yet. He glares at me and then his eyes drop to my waist and he sneers. I quickly pull the panties off and toss them aside.

"Come here, girl." Yeah, I didn't think he'd fall for that, but it was still worth the try, in my opinion.

I walk the rest of the way to his side. He pulls me into an embrace and just holds me. His face resting on my head. "I'm not angry with you. In fact I was in a good mood when I came into the room earlier."

Silence goes on for a while before I work up the courage to speak. "Then why were you mad at me?"

I feel his chest rise and fall as he takes a deep breath. "When I entered the room to wake you up, you were humping the bed."

"I was not!" No way.

"Are you calling me a liar?" His voice doesn't sound mad, but after this morning, I don't want to push my luck.

"No. I'm sorry, Marcus."

"So then you don't think I know when a woman is fucking an inanimate object?" I think he might be teasing me, but I can't be sure. Better safe than sorry.

"I didn't mean to offend you, or question you, but I can't picture myself doing that."

"Ohhh, it gets worse. I watched you for a while; enjoying the show you were putting on for me." Now is the first time I look him in the eyes since he forced me to the floor. How long was he in here? Was I really doing that?

"But the show wasn't for me, was it, girl? Mine wasn't the name dancing across your luscious lips. I wasn't the man in your wet dream. Was I?" My eyes get wide. The shadow man. My dreams have been about one and only one thing lately, Dustin. I remember the nightmares, or at least bits and pieces of them. Could I be having sex dreams also? "Answer me."

Shivering, my voice wavers. "Dustin. All my nightmares are about Dustin."

He pulls my eyes back to his. "Do you know how much it hurt to have you say that name? It was almost a physical pain hearing you beg him. You beg him, but not me! Many dark thoughts have crossed my mind about you. Maybe if I beat you senseless you'll beg me, like you did him. Maybe you truly are lost, and I should just ship you back home and forget about you all together. Maybe I should just toss you in the playroom and lock you in there for a few years. I would own you then, and I would force your dreams to be about me, and only me."

I try to pull away, but he holds me tight. The command in his voice is unmistakable. "Tell me your dreams. All of them. Right now." Resting my head against his chest, looking out the door into the hallway, I start talking. My voice emotionless and flat. I tell him about my nightmares. The bottomless pit dream I had when I was here. The ocean dream with sharks swimming under the surface, their rough skin sliding against mine as I struggle to stay afloat. The tornado, where I'm spinning and out of control, a lifeline always just out of my reach. The burning building I can't find my way out of; my lungs burning, my eyes watering. Space, where no matter how much I struggle to get to a planet, I can't do anything other than spin in circles, cold and scared. Lost. In all of them I'm lost. Helpless. And Dustin is always there. Sometimes as a threat, sometimes as my only hope. Always there. Always watching. Always.

"Shhh, girl. You're safe here. I need you to let that all go. You can't keep holding onto the fear. Let yourself focus on now. You can't go forward if you're using all your energy by dragging the past along with you. You have to let it go."

"I can't. I don't know how. Please, just make it all stop. Please."

"You can. I know you can. I know how strong you are. You have to try."

"I don't know how." We haven't even had breakfast yet, and I'm exhausted already.

"Stop fighting. Embrace what you are. And you will have nothing to fear anymore. Stop fighting, girl. Just stop." He continues to hold me, letting me draw strength for his strong, even heartbeat. There's no more talking. Just holding.

He breaks the contact between us, and takes my hand, leading me quietly to the kitchen. I stand in the corner watching him prepare the food we're having for breakfast. A spinach and cheese omelet, mixed berries, and leftovers from last night. I am still awed by his massive size and the grace with which he moves. So easy. So confident. He sets the table and motions me over. I walk over and stand next to him. I know what's coming next, but it still irks me when he says it. "Kneel." Why does this bother me so much? He's right, I'm not sure I even know why I struggle with this.

"Do I have to?" Please, this day has to get better at some point. It just has to.

"Yes, you do. And if you ever question it again, you will still kneel, but I won't allow you to eat." He glances back at the cuffs and chains on the countertop, then he watches me until I sink down to my knees on the dog bed. I stare at the floor as I hear him start eating. I sit there for a while until he nudges my head. I look up and he's offering me some chicken in his fingers. I take a deep breath and swallow my pride before I can lean forward and carefully take the meat from his fingers with my mouth. It might have been delicious, but all I remember is that I thought it was hard to chew.

Breakfast continues in silence, Marcus feeding me from his fingers while I contemplate if this is really what I want to do. We finish breakfast, and Marcus cleans up the kitchen. He helps me off the floor and we walk to his bedroom. He chains me in his shower, then strips and climbs in with me. Starting at the highest point, my hands, he gently and thoroughly washes every inch of me. My body betrays my emotional state, and starts reacting to the pleasure of skilled hands caressing my flesh. The insecurity and drama from this morning seem to swirl away down the drain with the water. I just let myself be.

He unclips the chains and helps me out of the shower, dries us both off, and leads me to the bed. I wait there as he chooses a dress for me. He decides on an emerald green dress that looks almost like a Greek toga style. It's a pencil skirt covering one shoulder with a wide golden band across the waist and over the shoulder. As he bunches the skirt up, I raise my hands over my head and he slips the dress on me. He walks around me once to look me over. Then he takes my hand and leads me out of the condo, down to the SUV, and into the Vegas early morning sunshine. All without either of us saying a word.

We head toward Boulder City, then we drive past it. More desert flies past before he turns down a long, winding, dusty driveway. He drives past a large one story home and finally stops in front of an even larger barn. Before we get out of the SUV, he turns to me. "Girl, look at me. This morning is in the past. Let it go. You'll need to let it go in order to trust me, and today, you will need to trust me. Focus on moving forward. Focus on me. Let me handle everything else. OK."

I nod yes, and he hops out with his camera bag and helps me down. We walk hand-in-hand into the barn. The smell of horses is overwhelming at first. A man with Marcus's height, bulk, dark hair and skin color walks up to us. He looks a little older, more weather worn. The two men eye each other. The older man spits on the floor near our feet. "I see the pansy-assed city boy has returned. Slummin' it today?"

"Cranky old geezer. Ain't you dead yet?" Marcus steps forward to engage the other man, I step back to avoid the body parts I expect will be flying around shortly. Both men embrace then the laughing and back patting starts. In unison, they both turn to look at me, smiling. "Dominic, I'd like to introduce you to a very special lady." Dominic, as it turns out, is Marcus's older brother. Apparently there is some difference of opinion as to exactly how much older. I get a little glimpse into the private life of this imposing man. I get see someone, Dominic, who doesn't call him 'sir' and defer to him automatically. I get to see him as a person, not a man controlling every aspect of my life.

Dominic eyes me up and down. "That's not exactly trail appropriate clothing, Marcus. At least give her some jeans to put on."

"What? She's beautiful in that dress. Look at that emerald color on her. It's perfect. Besides, we're going down into the canyon. The dress won't be a problem."

"You're an ass, Marc." Marcus put his arm around my side and pulls me closer to him, kissing the top of my head. He's grinning as his brother continues. "Otis hasn't been out for a few weeks, so I've saddled him for you and the super sweet Denver for the little lady here." He gives a small nod of his head to me, and I hear Marcus groaning. "God, why do you keep that good-for-nothing animal?"

"To torture you, dear brother." Dominic laughs again, as we walk further into the barn. Two horses are saddled and standing near the back. One has a leather lead strapped to a stall door; the other has two chains, one on each side of the bridle, connected to support beams on either side.

Marcus leaves my side and walks up to the chained horse. The horse surges forward toward him, but the chains stop him. Marcus doesn't flinch. The horse is hopping up and down, large hooves pounding the ground. Dominic leans over whispering to me. "The beast enjoys biting, kicking and dropping riders on their asses. No one rides him, but the only other option is to put it down, which I'm not willing to do to an otherwise healthy animal. A few years ago, right after I got the beast, Otis tried to bite Marcus. Marcus had his hand up, trying to get close enough to touch the nose. Otis lunged and tried to bite. Normal people would have pulled their hand back, right? Not Marc. He reached into the horse's mouth and grabbed his tongue. Grabbed it and held on. Otis didn't know what to do. When Otis tried to bite, Marc twisted his tongue. When Otis tried to get the hand out of his mouth, Marc just held on. Blood was dripping down his arm, but he never flinched. After like ten minutes, Otis is just standing there, tongue hanging out, Marc still holding on to it, whispering in his ear. Marc finally let's go, and Otis just stands there. When Marc is ready, he walks along side him and hops on the beast bareback. Otis didn't look none too happy, but he never once tried to buck him off. I'll give him this: My little brother does have a pair of balls on him, don't he?" I was about to agree and say delicious, but then I thought that might be slightly inappropriate so I just nodded.

Marcus has Otis unchained, as Dominic puts a soft blanket over my saddle, and helps me up onto Denver. The dress rides up high on my thigh. No amount of tugging or readjustment is going to fix this. Dominic yells at Marcus again about the dress. Marcus just says that it won't be a problem for long. I have a feeling I know where that is going. The brother's talk about the route we're taking, then Marcus hoists himself up onto Otis. I see the camera bag hanging off the saddle.

We ride side by side off the ranch; the morning sunlight is just starting to heat up. "Stop tugging on the dress. You look fine."

"I look like I'm not wearing any panties. Do you see your brother often?"

"Yeah, we talk on the phone every few days. We have lunch together about every week. I don't get out here as often as I like, though. I don't want the cops to start harassing him."

"Is he a criminal also?"

I get a look from Marcus I can't read. "Nope, he's just an old geezer of a rancher."

"He told me about your first meeting with Otis. Shame on you for assaulting a poor animal like that."

"Are you scolding me, young lady? And besides, this isn't a 'poor animal', this is a spawn from hell."

"I am scolding you, you pansy-assed city boy. I haven't figured out how many spankings you deserve though." There was a chance he could be mad, but he liked my sassiness before. His bark of laughter tells me he liked it this time also. He pulls closer to me, his hand reaching for my hair, when Otis decides to try to take a chomp out of Denver. My horse wisely dances out of range, taking me with him. I laugh as Marcus tries to rein in his horse again. I raise my arms and wave them around in the air. "Curses! Foiled again."

"You are such a brat! Just wait till I get you across my lap." He's got Otis back in line again.

"Promises. Promises." I get another look from him, but this time there's a twinkle of mischief behind them. He shakes his head and rolls his eyes as we come up along the Grand Canyon. You'd think there would be some warning, or something to indicate we're close to one of the great natural wonders of the world, but there's not. We're just riding in the flat desert, and then, there it is. We follow along it, with Marcus taking a few pictures here and there, until we get to a path leading down into the canyon itself.

We hop off the horses before descending into the canyon. "I'm going to have you and Denver go first. He's been on this trail many times, so he knows the way. Just go slow and keep your balance. And one more thing: Hand me your dress."

I knew this was coming, so I've prepared for it. I slip it over my head and place it in his outstretched hand. He raises an eyebrow and smiles. "Good girl. Here, put this on." He hands me a tube of sunscreen and watches as I smear it all over. He helps me cover my back. Then he takes a few pictures of me standing above the canyon with Denver. "Let's go."

The descent is breathtaking. Sometimes the path is above the water, sometimes following along besides the river, and sometimes we even go through the water. Every once in a while I hear the click-click of the camera. Sometimes I ignore it; sometimes I pose for him.

Twice during the trip he has me put the dress back on. We don't see anyone, but I hear the sound of an engine coming from everywhere at once. Marcus says the canyon walls echo sounds, so they could be a mile away or right above us.

We follow the path back up to the top of the canyon. There's a little oasis of Joshua Trees. I look back to Marcus to see if we're stopping here. He nods and I hop off Denver and go check out the Joshua Trees. So cool! Marcus is hitching Denver and Otis to two separate trees on the outside of the grove. He comes back with three loops of rope. He quietly and efficiently wraps the ropes around the trunk of one tree and ties the ends together. He tosses the three loops closer to the edge of the cliff. I'm watching him, but I have no idea what that's for. More pictures are taken. Marcus no longer seems easy-going like he did earlier. He's much more focused now. Something's up.