Free Distorted Lines (Blurred Lines Volume 2) by Breena Wilde

Chapter 1
     
    I lay on the bed in the Blue Room for a long time. It might’ve been comfortable if I wasn’t chained up. There isn’t a clock, so I have no idea how long I’ve been here, but it’s been a while. My body hurts from staying in the same position so long; that is, my arms and legs cuffed and spread apart. I know the man I call Big Guy told me to behave, but I’ve really got to go to the bathroom.
    So I start to shout.
    “Hey! Hey! Someone. I need to pee.” I wait, hoping that’ll get a response. After I count to a thousand in my head, I’m about to shout again when I hear the door rattle.
    Big Guy , whose real name is Lincoln, comes in. His face is hard, stoic. “I can unchain you to use the bathroom.”
    I sigh. “Awesome.”
    Lincoln releases the locks with a key and helps me stand. I’m naked, but he keeps his eyes above the neck at all times. It’s surprising. I’m grateful.
    When we reach the makeshift bathroom in the back of the room, Lincoln releases me and turns around.
    I stand there a moment, unsure. I really have to go, but he’s so close I could reach out and touch him.
    “Can I have a little privacy? Maybe you could go outside the room for just a few seconds?” I ask.
    His thick brows furrow in annoyance. “Go and do it quick. Mr. Zane will be back soon and then you’ll be out of luck.” He turns away, rolls his shoulders, and tilts his neck side-to-side. I’m guessing that’s supposed to convince me he’s serious.
    “Fine.” I sit and do my business. Once I’m finished I make my way to the sink. My arms and legs are waking and they’re tingling with sharp pins and needles. Doing my best to ignore it, I turn on the sink and wash my hands. The soap smells like lime and vanilla.
    There’s a mirror above the sink and I glance at my reflection. I’m kind of a mess. Makeup from the night I spent with John Cruze is smeared on my face, mascara under my eyes. My hair looks like I slept on it funny. I run my fingers through my hair, trying to work out the tangles, but that’s it. Zane obviously doesn’t give a fuck what my face looks like. It’s only my body he’s interested in.
    When my hands are dry I walk back to Lincoln. “Now what?” I ask when I’m facing him.
    Lincoln seems momentarily unsure. I wait. Hopeful. His phone rings and he answers it. “This is Lincoln.” He waits, listens. Then nods. “Understood, Mr. Zane.” He hangs up the phone and turns to me. “Mr. Zane says you’re to take a shower.”
    The idea of hot water sounds good. Images of John Cruze and what he did to me in the shower flash through my mind, and my body suddenly wishes he could join me again. But he can’t. Won’t. I shut him down. Hurt his pride. That beautiful night will remain nothing more than a memory.
    This—me chained to a bed while Zane has his way with my body—is what I have to look forward to. I have to deal with it. And I steel myself. Thoughts of something other than my current job and my current client can’t be part of my life. There’s no place for love, joy, happiness, making love, kissing. All there can be is fucking and whatever pleasure I can take from that.
    “That’ll be fine,” I say to Lincoln. The shower stall is in the back of the room, near the sink and the toilet. It’s glass on two sides, the aluminum wall on one side and a glass door on the other. I open it and turn on the water. When it’s warm enough I step in. Lincoln closes the door behind me and turns his back to give me privacy.
    It’s kind of a moot point , since he’s seen me naked and spread open. But I appreciate his effort.
    I clean up quickly, using shampoo and conditioner. There’s lime and vanilla body wash and a white loofah. I scrub my body, working harder than I should, wishing there was more to my life than his.
    Maybe someday , I think, then rinse and step out of the shower. Lincoln hands me a towel.
    I notice the chains have been removed and the bedding has been changed.