Ari went to the closet and grabbed a blindfold and took the key to the chain off his dresser then he went back up the stairs to her. This time, he didn't have to tell her to kneel. She did it easily. He stroked her hair, and she leaned into his approving touch.
Ari unlocked the chain and carried her downstairs to the bathroom.
“Use the bathroom, brush your teeth, and take a shower,” he said before leaving her alone. He'd be glad when she was free to roam the house, but for now, this level of dependence would more tightly forge the bond he wanted between them. He wanted her to remember that every bit of pleasure, every small comfort, every basic need, came from him.
He stepped back into the bathroom when she was in the shower and sat on the edge of the tub to watch her. The shower didn't have the standard mottled glass that blurred the edges of naked bodies. It was clear and smooth, revealing everything to his greedy gaze.
She flushed when she noticed him watching her, but she didn't stop. He wondered when the shy blushing would stop. Ari would miss it when it did. He considered getting in the shower with her, but she was still adjusting to her new situation. He knew he was large and intimidating, and even though it was a big shower, he didn't want to make her feel unnecessarily threatened.
At least he wouldn't have to leave her today. Even though Claire thought he'd gone out to the store and left her alone, he'd decided instead to have groceries for the week delivered so he could focus on getting work done on the project. The combination of isolated captivity and this growing contentment over his new acquisition acted as a catalyst for the creative flow.
It had been shut off for weeks, but instead of slowly creaking back to life, the inspiration had flowed through him like water. He'd worked well into the night and had made a lot of progress on the plans. Creative and structural problems which had plagued him before Claire, had magically seemed to unlock, giving him all the answers he needed to meet his looming deadline.
When Claire shut off the shower, Ari stood ready for her with a large fluffy towel. When she stepped out, he dried her off and wrapped her in it.
“Sit,” he said, indicating the place he'd been sitting, “And enjoy the show.” He winked at her, and she flushed again.
Claire tried not to ogle Ari in the shower. She shouldn't want him so much. Then again, she knew first-hand how terrible captivity could be when you didn't want to be touched by the person who held your life in their hands. Was this the better option? To be held captive by someone who lit all your nerve endings on fire in all the best ways?
She thought about her abandoned apartment in the city. She couldn't imagine ever going back to that place again. She couldn't imagine standing there, alone in her kitchen staring at the front door, willing herself to step outside. And now she couldn't go outside at all. Not unless Ari decided to take her out. And why would he? It would be too much of a risk.
Her supposed freedom in that apartment had felt too open-ended, like it could stretch out forever without another person ever joining her in her life. Such a thought should have given her comfort after the basement, but it didn't. With too many possibilities and options, her world had narrowed and closed in on itself so that the simplest tasks became Herculean. And now? Now everything was so small, except for the larger-than-life presence in the shower. And it somehow felt better than what she'd had.
She should have been happy about her escape from the basement, her freedom. But how could she ever be normal again? Or happy again?
The worst thing had been the loneliness. She had no one she could share her experience with, no one who could understand. But Ari understood. They'd each taken turns playing both roles in this drama. He filled up all the empty spaces. The screaming void of a solitary person with no companion was gone forever now. And even though she knew she shouldn't, a part of her trusted this fucked-up bond between them. It felt strangely structurally sound.
The water shut off, and Ari got out of the shower. She watched the water drip off him as he bent to pick up a towel from the bottom shelf of the towel rack. But when he stood again, she got a view of the marks she'd left on him and winced. It was worse without the bandages hiding her crime.
He dried off and left the bathroom without even glancing her way. She sat there, wondering if she was still supposed to stay here or follow him.
He'd left her a brand new toothbrush still in the package, and there was a little space in the toothbrush holder beside his for hers. It felt so oddly domestic in spite of everything to brush her teeth and put her pink toothbrush in the holder next to his green one. It still seemed impossible that he hadn't locked her in a cell like the one she'd kept him in.
He hadn't drugged her, or made her sleep on the floor or threatened to kill her or made her bleed. Or yelled at her. He'd given her a warm bath and a hot shower. Never cold water out of a bucket with a sponge. And he'd held her when she'd had the nightmare, not fucking her when she knew he wanted to. All these things felt like small kindnesses in light of the evidence of her own violence she'd just seen on his back.
Ari returned wearing a fresh pair of jeans but no shirt.
“Will I ever get clothes again?”
A smirk inched up his cheek. “Eventually. Maybe.”
It was then that she noticed the blindfold he held in one hand.
“Close your eyes.”
Claire closed her eyes and didn't even flinch when he secured the blindfold, though her heart thundered in her chest, wondering what was coming next. She worried her mind might snap out of the way this man seemed to have hypnotized her. She worried she might stop wanting him and this twisted thing growing between them. Ari took the towel off her, but he didn't leave her naked. A few moments later he was helping her into a bathrobe.
Then he scooped her up and carried her from the room. He didn't take her down any stairs this time.
Ari stopped and set her on her feet on hardwood floor. He removed the blindfold, and she took a moment to look at her surroundings. They were in the kitchen. White, gray, black. It was a very modern kitchen with a large stainless steel island that somehow looked stylish instead of cold. Along one wall beside a long blond wood kitchen table was a sliding glass door. Snow fell in big fluffy pieces, gently landing and collecting on the frozen ground.
Ari began taking things out of the refrigerator and started making breakfast.
Claire couldn't remember the last time it had snowed so much in January. She moved to the table and ran her hand along the natural finish.
“This table is amazing,” she said. She'd never seen a table like this in any store or even design catalog. It was simple, yet elegant. Sturdy. It felt like it could last centuries.
“I made it,” he said.
She glanced up, surprised. “You made this?” For a moment she forgot the circumstances between them. She had to take a break from reality to marvel at this table.
“It's beautiful. Is that what you do for work?”
She watched as Ari kneaded and rolled out dough on the stainless steel island. That island wasn't mere design. It was practical. This was not a man who did instant biscuits out of a tin, she realized, cringing again at all the canned beef stew she'd fed him. He must have been going out of his mind for real food and this kitchen.
“No, not work. It's just a hobby.”
“What do you do for work?” He had to be independently wealthy. Any job would have fired him after a three-week unexplained absence. Another wave of guilt washed over her at all the ways she'd fucked up this man's life.
He stopped working the dough and gave her a stern look. “Are you forgetting yourself, little one? We're getting awfully casual here.”
“I-I'm sorry, Master.”
He nodded and went back to the dough, clearly not prepared to talk about his work, whatever it might be.
Claire looked back at the falling snow. A fox stood outside the door, only feet away, staring at her. She yelped.
Ari came over to where she stood to see what had caused that sound to come out of her.
“The fox?” he asked.
She nodded. Claire had never seen a fox outside a nature show.
“Yeah, that's Arnold.”
“You have a fox?”
Ari went back to his work, flipping some breakfast ham that he'd started frying in a skillet.
“He's not my fox. I found him injured on the property last year. I guess he was lost, and he couldn't feed himself because of the injury. So I kept him safe and fed him. When he got better he disappeared back into the woods. I thought he was gone for good, but he kept coming back. Probably because I keep giving him scraps.”
With that, Ari picked up one of the frying pieces of ham off the skillet and tossed it out the door into the snow. The fox ran after it.
“But you named him,” Claire said.
“I couldn't just call him hey fox. I had to call him something.” Ari went back to breakfast, placing the carefully cut biscuits on a pan and sliding them into the oven. He started a pot of coffee.
“Milk, juice, or coffee?” he asked her.
“Coffee, please.”
Ari nodded and got out two mugs and a single plate. “How do you take it?”
“Black.”
“A real coffee drinker,” he said. Was he teasing her? She watched as he poured coffee into their mugs.
“D-do you have any other pets?” she asked, wondering if she was again pushing too far or being too casual.
His hungry gaze held hers. “Just you.”
Claire's breath caught in her throat, and just like that she was done with the Q&A portion of the morning.
When the timer went off, he turned off the oven and stove top. Ari took the pan out and put three huge biscuits on a plate and a slice of ham inside each one. He carried one mug and the plate to the table.
“Get your coffee and join me.”
Claire got her coffee off the countertop and went back to the table. Was he going to just eat in front of her? Was this when his cruelty would begin? So fucking stupid to think he wouldn't turn on her. Of course he'd turn on her. Why wouldn't he? He'd probably start feeding her beef stew out of a can. Or feed her dog food. After all, hadn't she called him a dog enough times?
She started to sit in one of the chairs at the table.
“No,” Ari said. “Sit here.” He patted his lap.
Claire put her mug of coffee down beside his plate and sat across his lap. He took a bite of biscuit and ham. But then he fed her a bite. Just like with the pizza, he seemed to like making her eat from his hand. Like a pet. She tried not to think too much about how she liked it, too.
By the time they were finished he'd eaten two of the biscuits and had fed her one.