I stared at him, waiting and wishing for him to laugh and reveal that he was joking, but he just stared, holding out the soap expectantly.
I struggled to form words but managed to squeak out one word. "No."
He raised an eyebrow. "No? It wasn't a question, my rose. I was kind enough to wash you. Now you return the favour to me. It would be rude to refuse."
I stared at him, frozen. I couldn't find the courage to argue. He lifted my hand with his free one and gently placed the soap in it, curling my fingers around the bar. When I didn't make any move to wash him, he smirked and guided my hand to his bare chest.
I forced myself to oblige and tried not to think about my hand touching his chest. Slowly, I lathered the soap onto his skin, focusing intently on the bar of soap rather than his body. He smirked as I worked my way up. I refused to look down, keeping my eyes trained on his upper body and face.
His skin was hard beneath my fingers, and I tried not to think about his toned chest. I wouldn't let him have the satisfaction of thinking I thought of him as attractive. It made me feel ill to think that a man so wicked and cruel could appear so outwardly attractive.
He chuckled at me. "Lighten up a little, my rose. Slow down and enjoy the sights."
Despite my best efforts, I felt my cheeks warm, and he smirked, snaking an arm around my hip. I yelped as he pulled me thrush against him. I scrambled to get away and he let me, grinning.
"You've been rather good, my rose, so I'll let that one slide. I do expect you to finish cleaning me, though." He smirked.
I glared at him, anger washing over me. "No." I spat at him, and he gave me a smug look.
"No?"
I shook my head and squeezed the bar of soap in my hand. "You heard me. I said no. I'm not your slave, and I'm sick of giving in to your sick desires. So no. I am not going to wash you."
He gave me an amused look, but his eyes took on a dark tone. He stepped closer, and before I could make a run for the door of the bathroom he moved around me and left the shower cubicle himself.
"Alright then, my rose. Go ahead and wash yourself. If you're too good to wash me then I suppose I'll leave you to your own devices."
He wrapped a towel around his waist, and before I could question what the hell was going on, he left. I stared at the door for a few moments, my stomach twisting, expecting him to return and scare me any moment. But he didn't. Hesitantly, I stepped back under the flow of water and started to wash myself, trying to rid the memory of his hands running over my skin.
I finished showering and turned the water off, reluctantly getting out. I couldn't help but feel anxious. What was Blake doing? Where had he gone?
I tried not to think about it and reached for a towel, just as I did, though, the door opened and there he was again.
With Gwen trailing behind him.
My heartbeat quickened and I froze. I just caught a glimpse of silver in his hand before he spun me around and gripped my wrists. I yelped, and heard the sound of clicking. When I tried to pull my hands away, I found I couldn't. He'd put me in handcuffs.
"What are you doing?" I whimpered. He just smirked.
"I'm teaching you a lesson, my rose. You don't want to do as I tell you to? Then someone else does."
He pulled me towards the now shut door, and tugged on my wrists, pulling my hands up and hanging the handcuffs from a coat hook above my head. He pulled away, and when I tried to move I found that my hands were bound above my head, and I couldn't do anything more than rattle my wrists. I looked to Gwen, attempting to plead with her to intervene, but she looked away.
The meaning behind his words didn't sink in until she started getting undressed.
"No. Please, no." I begged, but my pleas fell on deaf ears. "Not again. Please."
I hated how desperate I sounded, but I didn't want this. I didn't want to witness this. This was worse than any torture he could inflict on me.
He just smirked at me. "At any point you can say the word and take her place, my rose. Iris is rather tired, so I'm sure she would appreciate it."
I feel a shadow of desperation creep into my body. The truth is that as much as I don't want to witness this, I don't want to experience it more. Maybe that makes me selfish. But I can't bring myself to do what he wants me to. I won't let him tear me down to that level.
He takes my silence as a cue and grins, dropping his towel and pulling Gwen into the shower. "Alright. Suit yourself."
He turns the shower on and passes Gwen the soap. Her face goes pale as he pushes her to her knees.
He watches me, a dark grin playing across his face. "Remember, Iris. I'm making you do this because of her. At any point she can take your place. But she won't. Will you, my rose?"
The coil of guilt wound in the pit of my stomach. I knew he was baiting me, and I tried to ignore him. I tried to tune him out. But try as I might, I couldn't.
He grabbed a handful of Gwen's hair and tugged on it, causing her to whimper in pain. He stared at me as he did it again. I clenched my eyes shut, and he tutted me.
"Keep your eyes open, my rose, or it will only be worse for her."
He must have done something because she let out a scream of pain. I quickly opened my eyes.
He slowly released her hair and tore his eyes from me, looking down at her crouched form. "Alright then, Iris. Go ahead. Wash me."
She slowly lifted the soap and began to clean him with it. I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced myself to watch. He stared at me, but I avoided his gaze and looked only at her.
Every so often, he would pull on her hair, or kick her, or slap her, and she would scream out in pain. Every time he did that he would raise an eyebrow at me quizzically, letting me know that at any point in time I could take her place. Maybe I should have. I could have saved her from his mercy. It would have been the selfless thing to do.
But I couldn't bring myself to do it. To tell him I would. To put myself in her place. I didn't have the courage.
So I just watched and cried as he covered her body in bruises.
When he was satisfied she had washed him enough, he pulled her to his feet and began to kiss her. She stood still, a frozen statue as he left a trail of kisses down her neck and to her collarbone.
Then she let out a yelp and he pulled away. My stomach churned as I saw a red mark beginning to form on her shoulder, realising that he had marked her with a hickey.
He shoved her out of the shower and she stumbled into the open, falling onto her knees. He sniggered at her, before looking up at me again.
Silent tears fell down my cheeks. He came closer, and I instinctively winced away. He let out a chuckle. "Oh, my rose. When will you learn to do as I tell you?"
Smack.
I hadn't even noticed his hand until he hit me. My cheek stung, and I let out a sob. I wanted to get away, but with my hands locked above my head, I couldn't move.
"Let this be a lesson. Your mistakes don't just come back on you. Got it?" He asked curtly, and I looked past him to Gwen, who was pulling herself up from the floor, looking weak and exhausted. I slowly nodded.
"Understood."
He smiled at me, an almost proud look passing across his face. "Good girl."
He tantalisingly unhooked my cuffed hands from the coat hook, and stepped away. My heart sank. "Aren't you going to release me?"
He smirked. "Now, why would I do that? We're just starting to have a little fun."
I struggle to try to pull my hands apart, desperately pleading with him. "Please."
He shook his head. "No, I don't think so. I think you deserve to stay in those handcuffs. If you don't want to use your hands to serve me, you don't deserve to use them for anything else."
I stuttered out my protests but he just turned away, and looked down at Gwen, crouched on the floor.
He smirked at her. I was expecting him to make a jab at her and maybe kick her, just for the hell of it, but I could never have predicted what he said next.
"Come on then, Iris. Get dressed and go back upstairs. After all, Jackson will be wondering where his mother's gotten to."
Gwen's eyes snapped to me, and I stared back at her, frozen. Shock and horror flashed through me.
She had a son.
At first I couldn't help but feel betrayed. Then I felt worse, because I realised something.
Somewhere above me, there was a child living in this hell hole.
I knew then and there that I had to get us out of there. That when I inevitably made my escape, I couldn't leave with just myself. I couldn't leave them behind.
Staring down at a broken and beaten young woman, I felt a surge of determination. I would get us out of here. I would save her, and her son.
Or I would die trying.