Jane’s mind careened wildly between deep resentment and attempts at forgiveness for her husband Luke. It wasn’t his fault, she knew; he had run out of options, but she couldn’t help but despise him in her deepest heart for allowing this to happen. She had watched his business crumble, had watched his spirit crumble, and she knew all along who was truly responsible. That was who she should despise. When her husband finally couldn’t pay even the interest on his staggering debt, it almost seemed inevitable when an alternative was suggested. Adam, the business partner, investor, creditor—the monster—had never hidden his desire for her; his lust was obvious in his smirking, leering manner toward her. He always unnerved her, with his constant innuendo and suggestive glances. To be honest, he terrified her in a profound and disturbing way, but she couldn’t tell her husband that his business partner frightened and affected her that way.
She thought of Luke whispering his confession, his head hanging, and the painful shock surging through her stomach as he explained the Agreement. It had felt like he’d physically stabbed her. What could be worse than this? The tears had come, but she didn’t want Luke to know the extent of her fear. It wouldn’t do anyone any good, not with the knowledge that there was no other choice. Of course she would do it. The lives of her husband and daughter were at stake. She would do anything. There was no discussion.
The Agreement was for a week; how short it had sounded at the time. You could endure nearly anything for a week, she had thought. But now, being here, that week stretched out into an eternity ahead of her.
She seemed to wait at the door forever, trembling and terrified in the cold twilight. When Adam finally opened the door, she was struck with a powerful combination of loathing and fear. Her words caught in her throat and she was unable to speak. His eyes pierced her to the core with an electricity she could not explain and didn’t like. He stepped back courteously and held the door open, gesturing for her to enter. As always, his posture and manner were impeccable, smooth as ice.
She took a deep breath and stepped inside. She didn’t look at him as she passed him, but saw in her mind’s eye his hard face and trim dark hair. There was nothing soft about Adam; he seemed chiseled out of rock, impenetrable and pitiless. Even his clothing, always flawlessly tailored, seemed cut from granite rather than fabric. Adam was viciously handsome, in the way of a movie villain. Jane had always hated herself for finding him attractive, but something in her responded to his dark, brooding features and manner. She was usually able to tell herself it was just an innate response to his general handsomeness, and tried to deny that he had a pull over her that quickened her heart and blood when he was near.
Jane entered the apartment Adam kept for business, which looked at first glance like an absurdly anonymous few rooms designed to fill any imaginable function. Apparently, he wasn’t interested in spending his vast wealth for luxury; perhaps he was as frugal as he was merciless. The carpet was bland, the walls blander, with the type of nondescript artwork you would see in a cheap motel. The furniture was utilitarian and ugly. The room was chilly, and Jane shivered in spite of herself. There was a reading lamp in the corner that shed the only light in the room, casting dark shadows across the plainness. Heavy curtains kept the dimming light outside from entering.
“Welcome, my dear,” Adam said, striding to the beige sofa and stretching himself out. He didn’t make any indication that Jane was actually welcome, or that she should sit, so she remained standing, awkwardly, near the door. He watched her for a few moments, appraising her. His expression was unreadable, his eyes blank. She felt her panic rising and struggled to push it down and maintain her composure. The quiet of the room was oppressive.
“Why don’t you fix yourself a drink?” Adam pointed to a small service table at the back of the room with glasses and what appeared to be whisky or scotch. “Fix me one too, please, while you’re at it. Double, neat. Thank you.”
There was no room to refuse. She walked to the service table, hyper-aware of him watching her, and poured two glasses of liquor. She hesitated at the table, trying to breathe, trying to maintain control, but all of her strength seemed to have abandoned her already. She thought fiercely of how much she hated Adam, of his months of veiled threats and menacing intimidations. She clutched at her hatred, drawing it close to her like a protection from the creeping fear that was snaking up her body.
“So,” he drawled, her back still turned to him, “your husband, it seems, owes me a great deal of money.” She turned to face him and he encouraged her to approach with a finger lifted. She brought the drinks over and placed them on the low, wide coffee table in front of the sofa.
Adam leaned forward to collect his drink, intentionally brushing his fingers across hers as she placed it on the table, and then leaned back again, sprawling luxuriantly. Jane felt ever more awkward and uncomfortable standing across from him. The few other chairs in the room had been pushed to the walls, and she realized that it was his intention to make her stand, to put her off center. She felt tears rising and tightened her jaw in an effort to suppress them. She may have no choice about being here, but she could choose to retain her dignity. She tried to force herself to look at him, to not look away submissively. It took a great deal of courage to return his gaze levelly.
Adam smiled a cruel smile, letting the uncomfortable moment stretch out a bit longer.
“Take off your clothes.”
Jane drew in her breath sharply, her jaw dropping involuntarily. Her entire body froze, unable to comprehend what he had just said. Did he really just say that?
“Take. Off. Your. Clothes.” He offered no further explanation or instruction, but just watched her impassively, waiting.
Now Jane couldn’t look at him, dropping her eyes to the floor. Of course she had known what was coming, but somehow hadn’t quite believed it would really happen. And certainly hadn’t been prepared for it to happen so quickly, so unceremoniously. She thought of her husband and daughter. Their lives depended upon her obedience to this man, on her ability to appease and please him. Biting her lip, she swallowed and resigned herself.
She dropped her coat on the floor.
Adam nodded in silent encouragement, unsmiling, his eyes intent on her. She stepped out of her shoes and kicked them gently to the side. Her breathing felt ragged and her heartbeat seemed to lose its rhythm. The room became overly vivid, taking on a surreal quality as she tried not to think about what came next.
She looked down and slowly began to unbutton her blouse, realizing that her fingers were trembling, making it almost impossible to work the tiny buttons. She fumbled with them, feeling like the walls were rushing around her, making her dizzy. When she finished with the buttons, which seemed to take an eternity, she let her blouse drop from her shoulders and flutter to the floor by her feet. Her arms moved automatically to cover herself, but she willed them to stop and instead, shifted them behind her to unzip her skirt. She felt the tears now, hot and unstoppable, run down her cheeks.
Adam took a sip of his drink as Jane’s skirt crumpled around her ankles. She gingerly stepped out of it and pushed it aside with her bare foot. She stood in her undergarments, acutely sensitive of the silence and of Adam’s scrutiny. She moved her arms over her body as if trying to protect herself from blows, but failing to adequately cover anything.
“All of it,” Adam said sternly. He made a casual gesture with his hand indicating that she should continue. “Keep going.”
Jane glanced up and caught his eye for a moment, desperately hoping to see some shred of sympathy or compassion. But his eyes were utterly unfeeling; cold and casually fascinated. She quickly shifted her eyes back to the floor, her terror amplified.
Beyond trembling into shaking now, she reached behind her to unhook her bra, letting it slide off of her shoulders and fall to her feet. She forced herself to then slowly remove her panties, folding them on top of the messy heap of her clothing and then straightening back up. She stood shaking and naked and felt more vulnerable and helpless than she ever had in her life. She glared fiercely at the floor, as if she could bore a hole into which she could drop through and disappear. She also realized, with an immense wave of shame, that her body was completely alive, sensitive to every breath of air and every surge of emotion, no matter how subtle. Her terror was complete and overpowering. She let out a little gasp of despair.
Adam stood now, setting his glass on the table. As he walked over to her, Jane’s impulse was to run, but she willed herself to hold still, eyes cast down and unable to look at him. He came and circled her slowly, stopping behind her. He was so close she could feel his breath on her neck, smell his musk. Her heart pounded. All shreds of protection were gone. His nearness was palpable, an immense presence upon which her entire awareness was focused with knife-edge sharpness.
“Do you understand fully the situation here?” Adam asked quietly, his words so close to her ear, she was startled.
“Yes,” she replied, her voice hoarse and tentative.
“Yes, sir,” he commanded softly, brushing her hair behind her ear as he spoke into it. The touch of his fingers was unexpected and she stiffened, gasping softly.
“Yes, sir,” she repeated, gritting her teeth.
“Just to be sure, let’s review.” Adam’s hand went to Jane’s bare waist, a slight caress sliding across her hip as he spoke. “You are collateral for your husband’s debt. I don’t typically accept collateral in these types of situations, but here we are. This particular arrangement was—irresistible.” His hand slid forward around her hip and started across the front of her thigh. Jane squirmed away, unable to keep herself from recoiling. As quick as a snake, Adam grabbed her wrists, gripping them tightly and holding her in place. She gasped in fear.
“Your husband’s and daughter’s lives are in your hands, Jane. I would advise that you let go, right now, of any thoughts of escape or protest. Your only mandate is complete obedience, to me. Do you understand?” His voice was quiet and matter of fact.
Tears rolled down Jane’s cheeks, but she managed to choke out, “yes, sir.”
“Your tears only make you lovelier, my dear.” He transferred both of her wrists into one hand and loosened his grip, making his point that physical force would not be necessary for her compliance. With his other hand, he brushed her wet cheek and then took her by the chin, twisting her face toward him.
Jane’s knees weakened and she struggled to stay standing. Adam released her chin and let his hand drift down her neck and across her breast. Her arms still trapped in his other hand behind her, she could do nothing to prevent his caress. “I can touch you anywhere I want. Any way I want.” Her body responded to his touch, flushing and tightening. She closed her eyes in an agony of shame. “I could hurt you if I wanted to,” he insinuated darkly, pinching the flesh of her bottom in his hand and twisting just enough to make her wince.
His hand slipped between her legs and she drew in a surprised breath. He stopped short of touching her there, letting his hand linger instead on the inside of her thigh. “I can fuck you,” he whispered in her ear. And then, pulling his hand out with an almost imperceptible stroke of the tender flesh around her anus: “any way I want.”
“And you, my sweet Jane, must do exactly as I say. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” Jane breathed, feeling faint. Her entire body was throbbing with fear, but also another, even more terrifying feeling. She didn’t dare acknowledge the horrible desire growing in her belly— it was as if Adam was reaching inside her and twisting her with his very words, his breath.
“Kneel,” he barked, shoving her unceremoniously toward the coffee table. “On the table. Facing me.”
Jane stumbled the two steps to the table, nearly tripping over her discarded clothes. She sank down and almost crumpled to the floor, but gripped the edge of the table for support. She climbed up on the table and turned toward Adam. Trying to conceal her trembling, she knelt on the table, her arms over her breasts and her face tucked into her arm. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the scene.
She heard Adam’s slow, deliberate steps as he approached her. He suddenly grabbed her by the back of her hair and yanked her head up, hard. She opened her eyes in surprise and her gaze was trapped by his eyes. He gripped her hair harder, keeping her head in place with his face close to hers. His stare was steady, unflinching, powerful. She could not tear away. The intimacy of the moment was too much to bear, the full shared knowledge of his complete and utter dominance over her passing between their eyes.
He lifted her glass of liquor, still sitting on the table and, without looking away, held it up to her lips. “Drink,” he ordered, and tightened his fist in her hair as he tilted the liquid into her mouth. He poured slowly and she felt it burn her throat and drip over her chin. Once he had emptied the glass into her, he twisted her face to the side, leaned down, and pressed his lips to hers. It was a violent kiss; he forced his tongue into her mouth, holding her head immobile as he tasted her. He smashed his mouth to hers until she could barely breathe. He tasted of whisky and maleness. She pushed at his shoulders, struggling, but could not escape. His grip on her hair grew tighter and she put her hands on his fist, trying to ease the fierce pain on her scalp. He was twisting her, drinking her, forcing her.
He stopped and rose, letting go of her hair so that it fell back across her shoulders. He drew his arm back suddenly and backhanded her across the cheek, hard enough to knock her off balance so she fell to the side. She gasped, overwhelmed with pain and terror, and tried to curl into a ball on the table, bringing her knees to her chest. She tasted blood in her mouth. Before she could catch her breath, Adam lifted her by the chin and quickly hit her again from the other side. This was a light cuff, less painful, but it nevertheless jerked her head to the side.
Adam stepped back and crouched down, on a level with Jane as she fell forward on the table, her hands steadying her and her head hanging. She lifted her eyes to his and saw him impassive, watching, curious, his arms over his knees insouciantly. He leaned forward and wiped his thumb across her lip, brushing away a smear of blood, an almost gentle gesture. She couldn’t move but just looked at him through a veil of hair, her heart pounding and her cheeks stinging.
“Delightful!” Adam broke into a grin, which was somehow both innocently pleased and menacing at the same time. Jane felt fresh tears well in her eyes. “Jane, you probably have no idea how fetching you are right now, all abject and abused. I think I will be very pleased with this arrangement. I will enjoy stripping you of every last bit of dignity and defiance.” He took her chin in his hand, lifting her face and again forcing her gaze to meet his. “Have no fear, my pet, you will belong to me utterly. When I return you to your pathetic, indebted husband, you will go back knowing, with not a shred of doubt, that you are my slave forever.” He caressed her lower lip, now bruised and slightly swollen, with his thumb, again gently. His dark eyes bored into her, and then his gaze dropped to her mouth. He leaned in and, holding her face in both hands, began a kiss that was almost romantic. She lifted her hands to his wrists to try to tear…