I realize this chapter has been long awaited and I deeply apologize for the super long delay. I must warn you this story is a little dark, so if that doesn't interest you, now is the time to turn away. All characters are 18 and over and purely fictional. I look forward to working on chapter 4.
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The stairs creaked as Clyde made his way into the basement. Lyndsay rushed to the bottom and stood with her hands clasped and her head bowed. Her body fought the urge to look up; this was how he wanted to be greeted. He handed her a tray with her dinner on it and made his way to the small table.
"Thank you for supper."
"You've had good behavior Skye." And it hadn't easy, everything in her fought to defy him. But it was no longer just her safety she had to think about. And for Samson, she'd do anything. Lyndsay set her food down and waited patiently for permission to continue further. He inspected the positioning of all her sides and silverware then nodded. Lyndsay sat down and held her hands out, placing them into his. She felt small as he enclosed them, the rough callouses rubbing against her skin. She closed her eyes and bowed her head as Clyde began prayer.
"Our heavenly father, we give thanks for all you have taught us, the food that we fill our bellies with, and the blessings you have bestowed upon us. Amen."
"Amen." Lyndsay repeated. With another nod she began to eat. Baked chicken, mashed potatoes, and corn on the cob. Clyde simply sat there and watched her, taking sips of his beer. She ate slowly, minding her manners. Once she finished she cleaned her dishes and stacked them neatly on the tray, ready to return to the kitchen just up the stairs.
"That was delicious Clyde, thank you."
"You earned it Skye."
"H-How was your day?" she asked softly.
"Samson is really catching on to the farm work,
as I expected. It's in his blood after all."
"Can I see him soon?" Her body tensed as she waited for an answer. She'd asked the day before and received a backhand to the face. His fingers tensed around the bottle as he took another sip.
"Are you going to ask me every day?"
"I apologize for nagging; I just really miss him. It's all I can think about. I-I know I can't come out yet; but maybe i could just see him for five minutes." She pleaded, resisting the urge to cry. She felt so pathetic begging him, but she'd do whatever she needed to just see him. She needed to see with her own eyes that he was okay.
"If I do this for you; what do I get out of it?"
"Anything you want Clyde, I am yours." He chuckled as he continued to stare.
"Do you have any idea how long I've waited to hear you say that?" When she didn't answer he continued, "Since I first laid eyes on you, since I watched you walking to class with your best friends. I wasn't even supposed to be near your school that day, but Georgie wanted a hot dog and there was a little league game across the street. The sun was bright that day, highlighting the blonde streaks you had put in your hair. Our future flashed before my eyes and I knew you were the one." Her stomach dropped at the thought of being stalked by him, to hear the details was unsettling.
"But now you finally stand before me, submissive like a proper wife and I feel it's not enough. Everything you've done; I don't simply want your obedience, I want your pain Skye. I want you to truly suffer until you cower before me." Cold shivers ran down her spine, his eyes were dark and cold, this was definitely not the Clyde she knew. He set his beer down and stood. He walked closer and Lyndsay struggled to remain still.
"To answer your question; you will see our son when I deem you worthy. Until such time, I do not want to hear you ask again. Am I understood?"
"Yes Clyde, I won't ask again." He enclosed her in his arms, his chest pressed against her back; chin resting against her shoulder.
"Glad to hear it Skye, now undress." She didn't hesitate to pull the dress over her head, leaving her naked. Despite the chill in the room, she kept her arms to the side. Clyde didn't like her arms crossed, it blocked his view. He circled her and she was used to his gaze by this point. Despite the amount of scars from the torture and abuse it was as though he didn't even see them when he looked at her. His gaze held desire and lust, his hand traced the brand on her hip. The scar that was the darkest. The infection had almost killed her; a small part of her wished it had. This was a nightmare; one she'd thought she'd escaped.
His hands roamed her body as he pressed harder against her. The raised skin never phased him, his eyes still held the same raw hunger it did on the day he first took her and held a knife to her throat. He kissed her neck, the stench of booze almost overwhelming.
"I've missed you all day," he mumbled. Her lip quivered as she held in her sobs Clyde swept her hair aside, giving it a sharper tug, causing her to cry out. He squeezed her breast digging his fingers into the soft flesh, grip bruising. She whimpered.
"Please Clyde, that hurts."
"Shh, don't want to wake Samson." Clyde warned. He squeezed again, harder than before. She nodded in understanding, in other words she needed to be quiet and endure whatever he felt needed to be doled out to her.
"Arms above your head," he ordered. She leaned her head down while holding her arms up. She heard the familiar whoosh as he pulled his belt free.
"Clyde, please..." He slapped her.
"You will speak when I permit it. Now place your hands on the support beam." He slowly made his way to a box in the corner and pulled out a pair of handcuffs, securing her to the post. Next he tied a bandana around her mouth to muffle her screams. He ran a hand through her hair and looked into her eyes.
"While I am pleased with your behavior, you are not as broken as you'd have me believe. And until I can look into your eyes with confidence and tell you're truly mine; you will be punished." She couldn't hold her tears back, they poured down her face. Clyde walked over to the tool chest and slid open a drawer, pulling out a wooden paddle, similar to that of a ping pong paddle. He twisted it around in his hands before setting it back down and pulled out a riding crop next.
She knew what was to come, and she knew there was nothing she could do to stop him. He grinned and walked back, giving it a few swings, making the air whistle around it. She could feel his presence as he made his way to stand behind her. There was no warning, the first swat came swiftly and left her with a sharp stinging pain. She bit down on the bandana as she tried to contain her scream. The next one came suddenly and it was a few inches lower than the last. Then another. After the fifth one she could no longer hold in her screams. She was grateful for the bandana, she didn't want Samson to hear her, but the noise only seemed to encourage him. When he finally finished, Lyndsay dangled by her wrists, legs no longer able to support her. Her shoulders ached with the task of holding her up. Her eyes felt swollen, her throat raw and she could feel every single welt radiating pain through her entire body.
Clyde was breathing heavily, sweat covering his brow. He let her wrists free and she collapsed to the floor. The cold cement was soothing against her burning flesh.
"I want you to sear into your memory every single moment of pain and remember your sins against my family." She bit her lip to prevent responding. He'd never see it any other way. And despite all that she'd been through, there wasn't a day that went by that those murders didn't cross her mind. The sight of his mother seizing, of Georgie choking on stainless steel and blood, or of poor Emily so caught up in the act of stabbing her tormentor, that she'd continued to stab him long after he was dead. Clyde dropped the riding crop and kneeled beside her. He untied the gag and kissed her. His mouth was cool against hers and she relaxed in his grip. He pulled her hand to his waistband and her fingers fumbled with the button and zipper, freeing him. He groaned as he ground himself against her open palm. He was rock hard, filling her hand. She delicately wrapped her fingers around his shaft and started to gently stroke him. His breath caught in his throat and he actually growled. His fingers cupped between her legs, fingers exploring and she closed her eyes against the invasion. She tried not to fight against it, after all, the quicker she gave in, the better she felt and she preferred the pleasure to the pain.
"On your back." Despite the pain, she obeyed, spreading her legs wide for him. He didn't hesitate sliding himself right in, buried deep, wrapping his arms around her legs to keep her closer.
"I've missed you so much." He rammed himself into her, almost sliding her across the mattress. Every inch of her backside burned, but Clyde kept thrusting, the sound of their skin making contact echoing against the basement walls. He leaned forward, hovering over her, hands pinning her wrists against the mattress. He didn't need to pin her, but the control seemed to simply entice him further. She stared at his chest, watching the movement of his body as it slid in and out of her. She could feel a rising sensation deep in her gut and she tried to fight it. Lyndsay struggled to push it down, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of making her body react. She felt her hips betray her first as they started to meet his thrusts halfway. Soon whimpers and sweet moans escaped her lips despite how hard she bit down or tried to control it. When the orgasm hit her it spread through her body like a firework, firing off in all different directions. Clyde groaned as he came, holding himself steady as he filled her with his seed. When he finished he rolled next to her, spooning against her beaten flesh.
"I am hoping soon you'll be prepared to join the rest of us, upstairs."
"I shall do my best Clyde." He kissed the back of her head.
"I am pleased to hear it. Dale's wife and sons will be arriving in a day or so and we can increase your study time."
"I look forward to it." She felt authentic in her tone but deep down she was concerned she'd never be able to convince Clyde. What if she spent years in the basement? How long before Samson was brainwashed? He was young, and had been without a father figure. Lyndsay had read about the psychology behind what she'd experienced, she'd seen Georgie's wives and how broken they were.
"What's on your mind Skye?"
"I'm looking forward to learning to sew again. There's some jeans that need patching up." Clyde snuggled against her a few more minutes before kissing her goodnight. He fixed his jeans and grabbed his belt. When the door shut behind him she curled up and let the sobs free. Every inch ached from the beating and she wished for a hot shower. Part of her wondered if maybe she'd committed some awful deed in a past life and was now being punished and what had Samson ever done? She took a few minutes to allow herself to bathe in the self-pity and loathing. But it's all she allowed herself to have. Anything more than a brief moment and she couldn't be sure she'd be able to pull herself back out again. Samson needed her to be strong; if he was to have any decent future she needed to figure a way out. And this time she wouldn't leave Clyde alive.
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"I've been good; why can't I see her? Please." Samson begged.
"Because your mother still has to prove she can behave son." The boy crossed his arms and sulked. He could hear her down there sometimes, crying. Her screams and cries traveling through the vent system. Samson's stomach sank every time he watched his 'Father' walk down those stairs. He hated being a child, hated that he wasn't strong enough to protect his mother. Despite the things that Clyde had said to him, he didn't blame his mother. He knew that Clyde was wrong, that all this was wrong; nothing he said would convince him otherwise. He hated these clothes, hated the house and even missed school. But anytime he said such, Clyde would give him a dark angry look that made him scared he'd be hit. He did his chores, tried to remember his manners, anything to not make the strange man angry. He couldn't see how this giant bully could be his father.
