Sorry for the delay on this. Thanks for being patient.
This chapter is mostly about the captivity scene. The developments that Rachel fans are waiting for will come next chapter, likely the final chapter.
Also, to sociofolk379 (not sure if you received my reply) - your request has my full blessing.
Hope you guys enjoy. Voting and feedback appreciated.
****
Two brothers traipsed through woodland. A group of young men greeted them and casually shook hands with the taller one.
"They're here for your send-off, little bro," he said, turning with a grin to see his brother flush with pleasure, flattered by the attention.
"You gonna do us proud, kiddo?" One ruffled the teen's dark blonde hair and clapped him on the back.
Logan chuckled. "Damn straight, he will. He's ready."
"Good."
The group of men fell back, and the younger one gaped at what they'd concealed.
"W-What is this?"
Logan accepted a cigarette from one of the others, and took this time lighting it. "A little something before you head off. It'll give you advantage. Edge."
A handgun slapped into the boy's palm. He broke into a cold sweat, his eyes on the man kneeling in front of him; completely restrained, gagged and blind-folded. Shaking like a leaf.
"I... This is a joke, right?" he said numbly.
"Nope, go ahead."
"Logan...I can't!"
"You can. Come on, you're embarrassing me."
"No, really. I-"
"If he doesn't have it in him..." one of the men spoke out, hooking two thumbs into his jean pockets; both arms sleeved in tattoos. A cigarette precariously dangled from his bottom lip.
"Shut up, Colton," Logan glared, looping his arm around the boy. "Hey, don't listen to them. Relax. It's like the gym, you know? The first workout hurts. Now look at you, all muscle. Just relax."
The boy spoke stubbornly; his voice trembled with an edge of fear. "I agreed to enlist. Not this. I don't want to do this."
"Come on. We talked about it. This is the head start I never had. I'm fucking jealous."
Silence followed; heavy with disapproval. Fighting tears, the teen bit his lip and cast an upset look at his brother. The others also watched Logan, most with raised eyebrows.
"Fucking Hell." Logan took a long drag and dropped his cigarette, grinding it into the soil with the heel of his boot. "Fine, you don't have to. Jesus Christ. Give me the gun."
Reaching to accept the weapon, Logan's hand closed around Ray's in an unshakable grip. The gun fired three rounds; the blindfolded man gurgled and collapsed.
Ray screamed.
******
Ray's upstairs bedroom was uncharacteristically bright. It looked like the setting of a homemaker catalogue, with a big square mahogany bed-frame and white linen with beige furniture to balance the colours.
Rachel woke with a sob, feeling like she'd endured a tiresome overnight flight; dozing but subconsciously aware of being in the wrong place for lack of a proper bed.
Except she was in a proper bed. Ray's bed, and he was curled around her like a possessive serpent. Awake, alert, and waiting.
"Do you want to talk?" he murmured, playfully grazing her neck with his teeth, wanting to taste more of her. He'd been awake for at least an hour, considering his next course of action.
In light of the blackmail footage, he concluded there were three options to encourage Rachel's cooperation. Offering to clear Ben's name was a good one.
They'd sit together and send an email with photo attachments to a person of choice, probably a relative. The email would be intercepted and land in his junk folder without hitting destination. It was a program he'd installed in case a captive managed to get onto his computer to summon help. Though it never came close to that, Rachel had substantial freedoms with him and was very high risk.
Ray anticipated she would eventually want some proof that Ben was off the hook. It was an angle Ray hoped wouldn't come to her attention for a while. When it inevitably did, he would explain that he attempted to help, as promised, but no other guarantees were made.
Option two... Force himself on her. Ray quickly moved onto option three.
Of the various drugs at his disposal, only one would suit his purpose without knocking her out. He wanted her conscious.
They were called 'Ditzers' -- known to have an effect similar to drinking two bottles of vodka, without the need for hospitalization or stomach-pumping. They dissolved inhibitions and encouraged careless honesty.
Under Ditzer influence, people were inclined to spill critical secrets. It didn't always work, nor was it exactly a medically-approved formula. Ray didn't want to fuck up Rachel's insides or cause permanent damage by spiking her food every night. But maybe just once...
"I don't know what to say," Rachel mumbled.
"Do you want breakfast?" Ray inquired, remembering she had recently been ill.
Rachel morosely nodded, drearily recognising she was quite ravenous yet again.
"Alright, I'll be back."
"Wait."
Ray paused on the edge of the bed and Rachel tiredly looked his way, noticing his arms seemed enormous in the soft yellow bed-shirt. Though Ben was sizably muscled, he never appeared threatening.
"How can you help Ben?" she asked.
Unmoved by her glum face, Ray looked conversationally thoughtful as though he hadn't already planned it out. "I could send some photos of you alive and well. They would have to be convincing."
Rachel nodded, still staring at the bed. Ray reached across to smugly ruffle her hair, then went downstairs.
Rachel made use of her spare time to freshen up, discovering her toothbrush and toiletries had been brought from downstairs. Ray's bathroom was quite large, luxurious, and smelled like him; his cologne, his skin, his overall essence. She didn't like being there, it felt intimate, as if she was immersed in his personal space. She preferred the plainer, sterile bathroom downstairs.
Ray gave 'breakfast in bed' a whole new impression. Rachel didn't think it'd ever hold appeal for her again. The food was good, granted. It always was. But she was so damn miserable it may as well be expired gruel. Perhaps it was the elephant in the room.
Ray wanted sex from her, that much was clear. She wasn't going anywhere; Ray proved capable of enforcing that policy. Eager as she was to progress Ben's rescue from a distance, Rachel just didn't know how to initiate such a repulsive conversation.
Watching her brow cutely furrow with concentration, Ray was impressed that once again, Rachel avoided hysterics in a nasty situation. Inevitably the intimacy would become a topic, but for now he relished in her quiet defeat. The ball was in her court.
"So..." Rachel idly stabbed her finger into the spongey mattress and watched it instantly re-firm. She sat up against the headboard with her knees to her chest in a defensive position that effectively blocked Ray from cuddling her.
"Yes?" Ray beamed, trying to catch her eye.
Rachel had carefully avoided all eye-contact with him since the last evening. It was only when Ray pretended to be busy that he managed to lock eyes with her before she quickly looked away. It both annoyed and amused him.
"How do we do this?" she muttered.
Ray stretched out by her side and walked his fingers up her shoulder to tap a flushed cheekbone. "That depends. Do we have an agreement?"
"I'm not clear on the terms."
Ray chuckled. "Very well." Rachel stiffened when he sat up and draped an arm around her. His other hand sneaked over one of hers.
"We'll do a photoshoot later." Ray's heart quickened as he imagined a very different kind of photography. "Email them to a relative, with a fluffy explanation. The email won't be traceable, so they won't be able to reply."
"And?"
"And you stop acting like you're at a funeral, for starters," he spoke into auburn tresses. Sexy bed-hair. His cock stirred.
Rachel did feel like she was at a funeral, following the death of love and happiness. "What else?"
"Don't be like that. Just relax."
Rachel bristled. It seemed Ray was always telling her to 'relax' when she had no reason to. Ray's hand left hers to turn her face up.
"Kiss me."
She sombrely cooperated, and Ray broke off with a laugh. "Come on, I know you can do better than that!"
"This is difficult for me. When do we send the photos?"
"After we take them." Seeing the look on Rachel's face, he sighed and began to tidy their breakfast.
"Can we do it now?" she asked, blushing when hazel eyes turned her way with a saucy gleam. "The...The photos, I mean. Take the photos."
"Do you know how long a disappearance investigation lasts before it goes to trial?"
Rachel shook her head. Ray smiled understandingly, though the sentiment didn't reach his eyes; they were warmly fixed on her chest.
"Let's just say there's plenty of time for you to convince me," he said with slow emphasis, setting the tray of dirty dishes aside.
Though it wasn't in her nature, Rachel longed to indulge in a toddler tantrum. She wanted to let loose in a screaming fit of rage, kicking and beating her fists against the polished timber flooring. If Ray weren't there to witness the humiliating spectacle, she'd do it.
Ray grinned at her brooding turmoil, wondering about his feelings for her.
Sexually, she set him on fire, and he quickly developed a surprising aversion to physically harming her. But he was also completely fine with her quiet, abject misery.
Ray crawled onto the bed and gently unravelled Rachel from her curled-up position, guiding her to lie flat. Balanced above her, he eased one hand down the front of her pants and lightly brushed his fingertips across her pussy as she crossly looked away.
Dry as a bone. Well, a very soft bone with a rose petal texture...
"Ouch," Rachel said sullenly when his fingers tentatively stroked her.
