Captive Bride - Alta Hensley Page 0,27

nude. I’ve never been ashamed of my body and, considering I had already lost all sense of dignity being chained to a wall like a mangy mutt, I have nothing left to lose.

When Ember sees what I’m doing, her face reddens, and she quickly turns her back to me. “I’m sorry... I…”

“Why are you sorry?” I drop my pants and underwear to my ankles and just stare at her.

I can see she doesn’t want to turn around and see me, and the asshole I am, decides it’s time to mess with her head some.

“I’m going to be your husband,” I say. “You’re going to have to see me naked. A lot.”

Her body tenses, and she peeks over her shoulder at me. I see her eyes drop down to my dick and then a small gasp escapes her lips.

“I take it you’ve never seen a penis,” I say, already knowing damn well she hasn’t. Unless her kidnapping father is more sadistic than I already knew he was.

She shakes her head and turns completely away from me again but reaches her hand out so I can give her the clothing. When I move to completely remove them, I realize there is no way to fully take my pants and underwear off with the chain around my ankle.

“Slight problem,” I say, shaking the chain for emphasis. “Unless you have a key, I’m not able to hand these to you.”

“Oh no,” she says softly as she glances over her shoulder and looks at the chain. She shakes her head. “I don’t have the key, and Papa Rich won’t…” Her voice fades away as she studies the chain, glances at my pants, and then back at the chain.

“I guess you won’t be doing my laundry after all.”

She bites her lip and turns to face me, still staring at the chain as if trying to come up with a solution. Suddenly, her eyes light up. “Hold on, I have an idea.” She quickly runs out of the room.

I feel ridiculous standing naked with my pants pooled around my ankles, so I pull them up and actually hate the idea that I may never truly be clean again.

As I get ready to sit in my chair of dignity—filthy—I’m stopped when Ember comes running back into the room with a pair of scissors in her hand.

“I’ll cut them along the outside seam and then sew buttons on them so we can take them off you easily from now on. I know how to sew, and I have a jar of buttons upstairs.” She pauses and then shrugs. “The buttons won’t all match, but I guess it doesn’t really matter.”

She doesn’t wait for me to answer, but instead kneels at my feet and begins cutting along the fabric. I don’t stop her, although I’m not sure how having buttons up my entire leg will work, but it’s not like I have a lot of options either. At least she’s trying, and I have to give her an A for effort.

When she reaches my underwear, she asks, “Do you want me to sew buttons on these too?” I can see her face is bright red. “I mean… do you want to keep them? I don’t mind… I just, I just want you to be comfortable.”

“Go ahead and cut them off. I can go commando from here on out.”

As sick as it is, I struggle to not smile. The poor girl is extremely uncomfortable having to be so close to my privates, and the fact that my clothes are just a few snips away from falling off of me, with her face right in front of my groin area… well, the humor is not lost on me. I grant her some mercy and help her lower my pants off me completely. She tries her best not to look at me, but I also know there is no way she didn’t get an eyeful.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she says as she scurries out of the room with my soiled clothes in hand and doesn’t even bother to close the door behind her.

Being trapped must be getting to me, because I actually have to fight back the urge to laugh. The absurdity of my situation. The fact that I’m sitting on wool blankets in a near dungeon being held captive by a lunatic and about to marry a waif of a woman who would kiss my feet if I ask, is something no one would ever believe. This is