Stepmother’s Plan 8

Read Stepmother’s Plan 7 (https://tentaclestories.wordpress.com/2015/12/19/stepmothers-plan-7/)

Alisa knows something is different today. For one, she actually wakes up feeling refreshed. The room she’s in is also far different than before. It doesn’t smell like basement and cement. She is lying on a king-sized bed and that is already an obvious distinction to the single mattress. Being tucked in a comforter with quality that challenges the one she has, she almost thought she is in her room.

But the soft orange glow of the night lamp is revealing enough for her to know that that is not the case. The room is smaller than what she has in her house but extremely well furnished. There are some pictures of flowers on the walls. A large desk dominates at one corner with a modern black leather coated swivel chair. There is a wall mounted shelf on top of the desk; two rolls filled with books that are too far away for Alisa to read the titles.

The floor is carpeted, a darker compliment to the lesser maroon walls. There’s a brown sofa set with a round glass top coffee table in the center. A flat screen TV is mounted to the wall directly in front of the bed. The ceiling has a wooden finish that matches the color below with a small chandelier hanging at the center. It’s not on, no doubt, but Alisa can imaging how brightly it will shine when it does. Alisa wonders if everything happened to her is a dream and now she has found herself awaken from it. There’s no way her kidnappers would fork out large amount of money to have this room refurbished according to the standards of 6 stars hotel, right? They must be out of their mind to do this.

At the corner of her sight, she sees a large metal pole sticking out like a sore thumb. It is very hard to miss, consider that an interior designer must be high on meth to have this in here by accident. When she sees the bag of liquid hanging at the top, she realizes what it’s for. There’s a line going down from the bag and disappears underneath the comforter. Alisa, who had seen this almost one too many times during her mother’s final moments, knows where the line is going. She lifts her hand out of the comforter and there it is, the familiar little medical device taped to the back of her hand.

She also sees something she wishes that it isn’t there. A leather cuff around her wrist. She moves out her other hand and sees the same cuff wrapping around that wrist too. She sighs in defeat. Her prior speculation of it all being a dream vaporizes instantly. So, her kidnappers are really out of their mind, coughing out a fortune to have this room made fit for a company CEO. But it isn’t that much of a disappointment. She did have her finger crossed anyways.

The door opens. Alisa takes a deep breath and hopes for the best. She turns and sees a lean man in flannel and jeans. He’s wearing a ski mask but Alisa know who he is, at least in a relative sense. She has seen him enough to notice that he’s the man in charge. In fact, he’s the only one she has communicated to ever since she’s here. She mentally calls him the fucking asshole. The man who watched her eat and bath every single time. The man who was always there when she’s being fucked. She has asked him countless of times why he is doing this to her but his responses were never enlightening. Response, to be exact. Singular. Because all he ever does is sitting there ignoring her. So, she no longer bother to ask him anymore.

“How are you?” he asks.

“Much better.” she answers, almost sarcastically. Nonetheless, she does feel a lot better compared to those other days.

“Good.” he says as he approaches her.

Alisa notices the brown paper bag he’s holding. He puts the bag on the bed. From his pocket, he fished out a small silver key. He takes her hand, slots the key into the metal locket and unlocks her cuff. He does the same to her other hand. He also detaches the IV line from the connector on her hand.

“Get dressed. When you are done, come outside. I’ll be waiting.”

Alisa eyes brim with hope. That’s the first good news she hears ever since coming here. She has not put on any clothes, not even underwear, since the day she was brought her. She turns to the brown bag. When he finally leaves, Alisa lunges over it. From the bag, she finds a mid-thigh length circle skirt with blue and pink hued floral design and a white skimpy t-shirt with an air-taken panoramic picture of Manhattan. She frowns at the choice of clothing. Normally, this is something she’d wear during a hot summer day strolling along the beach with her girl friends to pick up guys. But given her current situation, she is definitely not pleased with the meager amount of fabric she is provide with. Hell, she would even put on a parka if she has one now.

Alisa is livid when she finds out that the bag doesn’t have any underwear in it. She throws the paper bag at the door and almost tempted to yell fucking asshole at him, whom she presumes is standing behind the door. She knows he is playing her. She turns to the splayed clothing and bites her lower lip. She never gone commando before let alone to do it in such skimpy outfits inside a confined area with men that won’t think twice to fuck her. She finally comes to a conclusion and sighs. Dejectedly, she put them on. Something is definitely better than nothing.

She opens the door . The man instantly turns to her and gives her a top down. “Come with me.” he holds out his hand for her to take.

Alisa stares at the hand and then frowns at him. She doesn’t say anything but her expression is more than enough to say, “Are you kidding me?”. One day she is being fucked ruthlessly, and the next has her hand held by someone that could pass as a maitre d’. What the hell is he trying to do? Alisa considers to run away but where could she possibly run to. She has attempted the past few days and the consequences weren’t pleasant.

He nods at his head at his hand after a few seconds and without much of a choice, Alisa takes it. He tugs her gently and guide her into what seems to be the living room. They passes the spiraling staircase which Alisa glances only for a moment before turning away. Her heart races. She remembers very well the spiraling staircase and what usually follows.

Alisa notices the grand piano in the middle. She recalls hearing piano some time ago and thought she was imagining things. She clearly isn’t now that she sees the actual instrument, black and polished, sitting under the radiance of several miniature spotlights at the ceiling. The living room is not something Alisa would have thought of seeing. She always thinks that she’s in some sort of scum-infested part of town in an abandoned apartment building with a basement. This is clearly not that. The living room is connected to the kitchen, separated only by a brown wooden counter.

“Sit.” he gestures at one of the stools lining the counter.

It takes quite an effort for her to get her ass up on the seat without flashing everything beneath the skirt. She holds her skirt down, tip-toes upwards until her butt touches the rim of the stool, presses her arm on the counter and finally pushes herself up. The man takes notice of her rather laborious maneuver.

“There’s nothing I haven’t seen down there.” he remarks pointedly.

Alisa can’t help but blushes. The cause of it is not embarrassment, instead it is anger. She glowers at his back as he moves into the kitchen and briefly looks around for sharp objects to pierce him with. There’s a vase on top of the counter and judging by the size, it can potentially give him a brain edema.The problem is, she probably can’t lift it, at least not high enough to land a fatal strike. She looks around in the living room for a knife of sorts. Maybe the wine bottle on top of the coffee table could do the trick, she thinks. But she’d have to walk there to get it and it won’t be really convincing to tell him that she’s only up for a drink should he catches her holding it before she can hit him. When she turns back to him, she jerks ever so slightly. The man is staring at her intensely.

“If you are trying to conjure up a plan to escape, you can forget it.” he says with nonchalantly. “The only way to get out is that.” he points at an extremely sturdy looking door.

Alisa tenses as she study the metal framed bulkhead door. It looks almost like a door to a vault. Or based on what she knows up till now, this is the vault and she’s in it. There’s no way she can break that down even with a sledgehammer.

“It requires a ten digit hexadecimal code to unlock. A total of 1 trillion combination. Feel free to take a look. And I think you do notice that there isn’t any window in here. That’s because we are underground. You can scream as loud as you can but help will never come.” he smirks when he sees the defeat in Alisa’s eyes.

Alisa trembles in anger. The smugness of his smirk is so irritatingly palpable that she wants to slap so much her hand twitches. She could cry and beg him, but she knows that won’t change anything. She is done with crying and begging.

“What do you want with me?” she hisses lividly.

“Your obedience.” he answers. “You should know by now what will happen if you don’t.” he adds.

She crosses her legs at the threat. She knows it alright. The slight ache between her legs can vouch for that.

“As long as you do what I say, your stay in here will very comfortable, like now.” he then comes closer, so close that Alisa can smell his aftershave through the balaclava.

“But if you disobey me,” he glares down on her. “the coming days are not going to be so comfortable.”

Alisa swallows and moves back. She doesn’t even realize that she’s holding her breath until she lets out a soft sob. She turns away, no longer able to look at his intense glare.

“Look at me when I talk to you.” he growls.

Reluctantly, she forces herself to look at him again. Tears form in her eye and she rubs it away. She will not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry again. Defiantly, she tilts her head up to challenge his glare.

“I see that you still have a strong will. I like woman with strong will. I especially like it when I see it fade away.” he says sardonically.

Alisa bites her lower lip to stop it from quivering. A fat tear rolls down her cheek. But she does not look away. Not out of fear, but out of pride for herself.

“Now that we have made things clear, let’s get you some food.” he turns around and opens the fridge.

Alisa’s stomach is already in knots, she can’t even stomach soup and now he wants to feed her. How can he be anymore confusing. She feels like riding a roller coaster with all the constant ups and downs being thrown at her. One time he’s threatening her then now he is making food for her. It is maddening.

She sits in silence as he begins cooking. Alisa expected him to use pre-made food that requires no more than a microwave to be served on a plate until he takes out actual ingredients from the fridge and put it right in front of her. Onion, garlic, capsicum, red bell pepper, zucchini, chicken breast and lemon.

Alisa’s distress from the previous engagement with him slowly fades into fascination as she watches him cook. He dices up the onions and garlic first. Then, he expertly chops up the capsicum and bell pepper, removes their seeds, and then dicing them up into tiny squares. The chicken breast is next. He removes the cartilage with minimum effort which he then slices the boneless meat into tiny bite-sized portions.

Alisa’s jaw drops when it is the zucchini’s turn. He cuts off the front and the back, split the body into halves, places it on the board, and within seconds he knife turns the long vegetable into wafer thin slivers. He wipes his hands on a piece of cloth hung by the fridge’s handle before removing a pan from the overhead rack and places it on the stove.

Alisa is so focused in his cooking that she doesn’t realize just how close the knife is in front of her until he turns back and takes it from the chop board. Alisa feels slightly offended by the distrust he has on her but then again, if she has notice it in the first place, she might have considered stabbing him with it.

He sautes the onion and garlic first, then the meat, and finally the vegetables. He dashes a bit of salt and black pepper into the mix before finally serving it on a plate. Chopping the lemon into halves, he squeezes one half over the serving.

“Eat.” he passes her a pair of cutlery.

She looks at the steaming mix of roasted vegetables and meat. Despite the lack of garnishing that usually accompanied her meals, Alisa can tell it is good. She takes the cutlery off his hand and forks a piece of bell pepper into her mouth. The flavor bursts inside her. It tastes phenomenally good. The slight peppery augmented by the tangy meaty hint makes her realize that she’s actually hungry. The man then pours her a glass of water which she takes a gulp from.

The man walks away from the kitchen and heads to the grand piano. Alisa didn’t even realize he’s gone until the gentle sound of the piano catches her attention. She turns and there he is, sitting behind the large piano, eyes closed, playing a classical piece that Alisa is familiar with but doesn’t know what it is called. She closes her eyes and savors both the food and music. Albeit the situation, she somehow for the first time in those days, in fact in many months before she’s even here, feels peaceful and fulfilling.

Stepmother’s Plan 9 (https://tentaclestories.wordpress.com/2015/12/21/stepmothers-plan-9/)

 

 

 

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About robsam1991

Even though my stories depicts rapes and violence on women(mostly), i never once condone the action. Not even the slightest. In fact, i despise men who rape women. I never agreed on that women who wear provocative clothing were to be blame on for the rape; though they should take precautions when necessary to avoid risk. As a man, i think it's our responsibility to control ourselves and never let our urge out on innocent people. If you feel like raping someone, then treat a girl nicely so that she would opt for a role play where you can play out a 'rape' on her satisfyingly. Please use safe word.
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