A Bedtime Story by L.C. Moon Read Free Book Online Page A

felt like a doll but didn’t mind. She just went
     through the motions as an unaffected spectator. She did think a shower would have
     been in order, but Olga didn’t bring it up, so she let it be. She barely had the
     strength to form cohesive thoughts, let alone full-on sentences.
    At five to seven, Olga clasped her hands. “Well, we should get you
     to the dining room. You look beautiful, Miss Spencer.”
    Laura nodded, offering a faint smile. She followed Olga down the
     corridor into the dining area. He was already sitting at the table. He stared her up
     and down, his expression unreadable.
    “Glad you could finally make it…” he said after a while, his eyes
     remaining on her, as a cryptic smile formed on his lips.
    Laura was feeling weak and light-headed. She smiled back at him, a
     genuine smile, devoid of malice or sarcasm. It was the kind of smile good-hearted
     people offered strangers, sweet and impersonal at the same time.
    Her smile both surprised and concerned him. He leaned forward in
     his chair, as if physically trying to get closer to her, sensing a danger. He barely
     finished the thought, when he saw her eyes slowly roll backward, her muscles going
     limp. In an instant he was at her side, catching her as her frail body went slack in
     his arms.
    He carried her to the couch in the adjacent living room, calling
     out for Olga. He laid her down gently, fluffing the pillow Olgahad
     brought along with the covers. He tucked her in, took a seat on the La-Z-Boy next to
     her, and watched her sleep.
    She looked peaceful. He wondered if she was dreaming. He had to
     restrain himself from touching her, not in a sexual way. He just wanted to caress
     her face, brush away the strands of hair causing the little beads of sweat slowly
     dripping to her lips. She was beautiful when she looked serene, she was beautiful
     when she looked sad. She was striking when she was furious. He had gotten a taste
     the night before. Something told him there would be many more of those to come. A
     devilish grin formed on his lips. His mood shifted at the thought; long gone were
     the sweet caresses he yearned for a few moments ago. But his fantasies were wasted
     on an unconscious body, as enticing as that body was. He had never been the type to
     force himself on a woman. He never had, not out of a misplaced sense of morality; it
     was just not his thing. Granted, he understood, felt, the exhilaration that came
     with a beautiful woman’s tears, the terror in her eyes at the realization of her
     powerlessness, despite her vain efforts to resist. But the similarities ended there.
     To overpower a woman physically was no great task, even less so if she was
     unconscious; what a bore that would be. They say rape is about power. The truth was
     all sex is about power. The power he sought was just of a different nature. It was a
     battle of the mind, of the soul, where his ecstasy could only be found at the
     deliberate and complete surrender of the object of his desire. Her tears would taste
     sweeter as he pushed her toward orgasm, the horror in her eyes not directed at him,
     but at her body’s reaction to him. Her powerlessness, only understood after a long
     battle lost within herself.
    ***
    Laura awoke sometime after. She opened her eyes, looking around
     silently, taking in her new environment. She was on a comfortable couch. The lights
     were dimmed, but she could make out a large rectangular table with a glass top just
     in front of her and a big screen TV hanging on the wall surrounded by the usual yet
     imposing TV stand. She didn’t venture to move her head tocheck out
     the rest of the room. She had a splitting headache and her limbs refused to move, as
     if weighing a ton each.
    He had noticed her slight movement. He was still sitting on the
     La-Z-Boy next to her, a laptop in his lap, illuminating his face.
    “Well, good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he greeted her in a playful
     tone. His stare, however, was