The Keeper - Luke Delaney

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slowly towards her cage, careful not to alarm her by moving too fast like before. He unlocked the cage and allowed the door to swing open, his head ducking inside. Seeing her eyes focused on the stun-gun in his hand, his own eyes were drawn to it.

      ‘I do trust you, Sam, you need to know that, but they could still try to keep us apart. If they do, I’ll need this to protect you. You do understand?’

      She nodded a frightened yes, her eyes wide with fear. He thought she looked like a kitten waiting to be plucked from its mother’s side, and it made him feel good, made him feel strong, wanted, needed and in control. He backed away from the entrance to allow her to emerge and watched as she shuffled forward, bent double, clinging to the duvet that hid her nakedness. He knew what she was hiding, remembering the first day he’d brought her here, when he’d taken her clothes, the clothes they’d made her wear. Excitement coursed through him, his penis swelling as the blood rushed into it, making it uncomfortable and obvious under his tracksuit. The memory of seeing, of touching her soft, warm, slightly olive skin was almost too much for him to bear. He closed his eyes and tried to keep control, but the image of her round breasts, dark circles at their centre, and the soft pubic hair almost entirely covering her womanhood, burnt itself into his mind. The need to be with her here and now was so strong it was threatening to overtake him. He knew she wanted him too, wanted him as her lover, but first he needed to show her that he respected her. When they were finally together it would be so much better because they had waited.

      She disappeared behind the screen, becoming a shapeless shadow with a silhouette of a human head. ‘There should be plenty of hot water,’ he managed to say through his pain, the need to release growing ever stronger, ‘and the towel should still be there.’ He heard the sound of running water and waited, knowing what was coming, until at last the duvet slipped from her shoulders to the floor, the perfection of her silhouette standing so clearly in front of him now, the shape of her back, the curves of her hips and buttocks, her beautiful breasts, the points of her nipples, her hands running over her body, touching it as he so desperately wanted to, her shadow a template on to which he projected the memory of her nakedness. He realized his mouth was hanging open and emitting an ugly guttural moaning he hoped she hadn’t heard above the running water. The sound of water ceased as he watched her hurriedly dry herself and pull the duvet tightly around her body. ‘Don’t forget the tray,’ he rasped through his dry mouth. ‘You must eat. You’ll need your strength.’

      She appeared from behind the screen, looking from the floor to him and back again, heading for her cage, speeding up as she passed him, glancing at the stun-gun in his hand, ducking obediently back inside the safe place he’d made for her. He waited until she’d settled, watching her examining the items on the tray: cereal, milk, some fruit. Yes, he thought to himself – she was becoming as he wanted her to be, as he needed her to be. He eased the cage door shut and replaced the lock, all the time watching her in wide-eyed excitement and anticipation of the moment when he would be with her, as it had always been meant to be.

      Needing release, to untie the knot in his guts, to stop the throbbing in his head, the pain in his groin, he looked across at Karen Green. He was disgusted by her, yet drawn to her, drawn to the odour leaking from her cage. Slowly he moved towards her, his face ugly and threatening, his uneven stained teeth bared. Sensing danger, she tried to escape his approach, but all directions led to cold wire.

      ‘You disgusting whore,’ he accused her, his voice quiet, but full of hateful intent. ‘You’ve pissed yourself. Do you want me to punish you? Do you?’ shouting now.

      ‘No, please,’ she begged him. ‘I couldn’t help it. Please, I tried not to. I knew it would make you angry, please.’

      His teeth clenched together in rage, the words squeezing through them, each one shouted with a pause between to emphasize his fury as he edged closer to his desperately needed release. ‘If … you … knew … it … would … make … me … angry … then … why … the … fuck … did … you … do … it?’

      ‘I tried so hard not to,’ Karen pleaded, bright tears making clean stains down her increasingly filthy face, her mouth round as if trapped in a scream, her eyes wild with panic as he approached.

      He opened a hatch in the side of the cage that was just big enough for a human arm to fit. ‘Put your arm through the hole,’ he demanded.

      ‘No,’ she sobbed.

      ‘Put your arm through the fucking hole or you know what’ll happen.’

      ‘I can’t,’ Karen gasped between terrible childlike sobs. ‘I can’t.’

      ‘Put your arm through the fucking hole!’ His scream intensified, making both women jump in fright.

      Slowly Karen inched her way across the cage and slid her arm through the gate, looking away, knowing pain would soon come. He leapt forward and stabbed the stun-gun into her exposed flesh, sending her flying through the air to the rear of the cage where she crashed into the wire and fell on to her side.

      Then he waited. Waited until the convulsions became little more than twitches. Finally he darted to the cage door, dropping the key in his rush to unlock it, fumbling on the floor in a panic to locate it, giggling when he did. The lock undone, he jerked the door open in a desperate rush to reach her before she fully recovered.

      The desire was overtaking him, everything beginning to feel dreamlike, as if he had left his body and was watching someone else in the cage with her, someone else rolling her on to her stomach, tearing at her flimsy underwear, pulling himself free and searching for her, thrusting and missing, thrusting again, searching for a warm opening to push himself into her, until finally, when he was so close to releasing the demons that pounded inside of him, he felt himself enter her, the feeling of being inside her making his eyes roll back with excruciating pleasure like he’d never been able to feel before – before he started taking them. In the midst of his ecstasy he wondered if the others would be as good as this, his first.

      He rutted like a wild animal, almost unaware of the human being lying underneath him, crying in pain, humiliated and desolate, while he forced himself on her, grunting with absolute pleasure, the warm flesh around his sex driving him to push harder and deeper until the release rushed free from his body and into her. He pushed himself as deeply as he could inside her as the release began to fade, at last allowing his body to relax, bringing him back to the world and the realization of what he had done, shame attempting to wash him clean of his terrible sin.

      Keller looked down at the sobbing creature pinned underneath him, his erection fading fast. He pulled himself out of her and tugged his trousers up, already backing out of the cage, unable to look at her. His eyes were immediately drawn to Louise, looking on in horror.

      Pointing at the figure discarded on the floor of the other cage, he protested, ‘She made me do it, Sam. She always makes me do it. She knows how to trick me. She’s one of them. That’s how I knew she wasn’t really you, because of the things she makes me do to her. You would never make me do those things.’

      Slamming the door to Karen’s cage shut, he snapped the lock back into place then stood clinging to the wire mesh, fighting back the tears that tried to escape from his red eyes, self-loathing and hatred tearing away the ecstasy he’d felt only moments earlier. He scrunched his eyes tightly together, shame giving way to an anger that without warning swept through his being like a raging fire ripping through a bone-dry forest. He straightened, his body frozen with tension as he released his fury, screaming ‘I hate you!’ into the room.

      Then he turned and ran sobbing from the cellar, up the stairs and into the daylight, cursing his lack of control, his weakness, the fact they had seen his weakness. Humiliation kept his legs pumping as he ran across the derelict courtyard, bouncing off oil drums, tripping on old tyres until he reached his dilapidated cottage and fell through the door, clutching his chest, desperate for his burning lungs to fill with air, to slow his heart and stop the throbbing pain in his head.

      Collapsed on the floor of his neglected kitchen, he waited, staring at the ceiling, as images from his childhood taunted him, joined by other, more recent images of torment. But he didn’t try to push

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