Chapter 9

Sarah had barely slept. What a day. Just yesterday, she had been terrified at the thought of traveling alone to Paris, where she would have to confront the grim reality of her arranged marriage in Egypt. And then, Ms. Pembroke had rescued her, or so it seemed.

Not only had her teacher done things to her that even her father had refrained from, but she was now uncertain whether she had been kidnapped or not. The locked door pressing down on her like an unanswered question. At some point during the night, she had risen to check it, pressing her palm against the cold handle as if testing whether this was real. Lying back down, her eyes drifted across the walls. Were those cameras? She wasn’t sure.

Ms. Pembroke. The woman who had rescued he, then ... did things to her that made her skin crawl ... What was she supposed to do? Report her? Would she even get the chance. Would Ms. Pembroke ever let her go?

Was she kidnapped or not? The uncertainty was maddening. She had to keep pretending, to act as though she was still being rescued.

The absence of natural light offered no clue as to the time. It seemed like a full day had gone by, when, at last, there was a sound outside.

The lock clicked. Sarah tensed as the door swung open, revealing the striking, statuesque figure of Ms. Pembroke. Tall, poised, effortlessly commanding as before, but any lingering hope that the sex acts were just dream was dashed for Sarah, when she saw that she stood there in nothing but a black thong and a lacy bra.

“Hello, Sarah,” she said, smiling through a disheveled curtain of white hair before casually brushing it back over her ear. Leaning against the doorframe, she shifted her weight, crossing her long, toned legs. “I’ve been up all night with my girlfriend—such a busy woman I’ve been. I do hope you weren’t jealous.”

Sarah curled up tighter beneath the duvet, pulling it around her like a fragile shield.

“Now, don’t worry, Jenny is just an alibi,” Ms. Pembroke said smoothly as she stepped forward to the bed.

Sarah flinched as her hand patted her head. She found herself face-to-face with her teacher’s stomach—taut, toned, impossibly close. The black thong was pulled high on her hips, the delicate fabric revealing more than it concealed.

“You’re not very talkative, are you, you’re so shy!” Ms. Pembroke cooed, her voice teasing as she leaned in closer. As she bent down, her cleavage spilled forward, the delicate lace of her bra barely containing her tits.

Sarah tensed, frozen Ms. Pembroke’s lips brushed against her forehead in a slow, deliberate kiss. “Don’t worry, Sarah,” she murmured with a soft laugh,. “I didn’t choose you for your conversation.”

Sarah looked up at the black eyes of the woman staring down at her, suddenly like a predator rather than a helper or any decent human being as the teacher’s hands stroked her face.

“Did you sleep well? Do you need to use the toilet?” Ms. Pembroke asked, her voice casual. She sighed, stretching slightly as if shaking off exhaustion. “I’m sorry I only just got back from Jenny’s—hopefully, I’ll be able to have guests here while I keep you down here. I don’t think much noise comes from here.”

Se smirked as he moved Sarah’s hair back off her forehead. “Jenny kept me up all night. You youngsters have so much energy—it’s not fair!” She let out a soft, knowing laugh before leaning in even closer, her lips next to Sarah’s. “And how did you feel about our little games last night?”

“Ms. Pembroke,” Sarah whispered., trying to steady herself, “I ... when can I leave?” she finally managed, her hands gripping the duvet tightly. “I want to go...”

“You can’t go home,” Ms. Pembroke said smoothly, her voice dripping with feigned sympathy. “Your mother touched you, remember? She’s a bad influence. And your father? He was worse. You can’t go there either.”

She brought her lips to Sarah’s ear. “And me? Well, you chose me, remember? And I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to rescue you.”

“But—Ms. Pembroke,” Sarah replied, her voice barely holding together. “I ... I thought the police, or social services, or ... I thought...” She swallowed hard. “I ... I have to stay here? For how long?”

“You’re in my care, and I will decide that,” Ms. Pembroke said, her tone. She reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from Sarah’s face with unsettling gentleness. “Don’t worry my sweet child, I will look after you.”

Sarah’s stomach tightened as the older woman’s hands slid down her neck, between her collarbones and under her t shirt. “Ms. Pembroke? If ... if I get out of here, I’ll be grateful. I’ll thank you. I won’t say anything about what happened here, I swear.”

The words spilled out in a frantic attempt to appease, to bargain, to convince, but she regretted saying it as soon as she saw the back eyes of her teacher flash.

“How dare you threaten me, you ungrateful little minx!” Ms. Pembroke snarled, her dark eyes flashing like burning coals.

Sarah flinched, her breath hitching as her eyes widened in panic. Her mouth moved instinctively, stumbling over desperate apologies.

“S-Sorry ... sorry, Miss, I didn’t mean—”

Before she could finish, Ms. Pembroke’s grip tightened around her arm, her nails biting into Sarah’s skin. A sharp sting bloomed where they dug in, the pressure making Sarah whimper.

“I go to all this trouble for you,” Ms. Pembroke hissed. “I make you a nice room, a comfortable bed, and you...”

Then, just as suddenly, she exhaled and relaxed. Her fingers loosened, nails retreating from Sarah’s skin as she let her go. “I’m sorry, Sarah,” she said, her voice softer now, almost gentle. “It must be quite hard for you—so emotional. I forget sometimes ... you’re just a silly child.”

Sarah nursed her arm, red puncture marks showing where she had pierced her skin. She was sobbing.

“Please, Ms. Pembroke, please ... don’t hurt me, please, I want to—”

“You are a child. I will decide what is best for you,” said Ms. Pembroke. “Now, part of my duty will be to discipline you.” Her eyes remained cold her head now drawn back towering over the crying little girl.