The house and barn were surrounded by more than sixty acres of woods and farmland that had belonged to Potter’s family and now were his. He didn’t live on the farm, but in Hanover, about fifty miles away, where he toiled as an assistant professor of English at Dartmouth.

God, he couldn’t take his eyes off Benjamin. Of course, the boy couldn’t see him. Couldn’t speak. Not yet. He was blindfolded and gagged, and his hands and legs were bound by police handcuffs.

Other than that, Benjamin wore nothing but a sliver of silver thong, which looked precious on him. The sight of the very handsome young man took Potter’s breath away for the third or fourth or tenth time since he’d taken possession of him. The maddening thing about teaching at Dartmouth these past five years was that you could watch, but you could not touch the boys who went there. It was frustrating beyond belief to be that close to his heart’s desire, but now—it almost seemed worth it. Benjamin was his reward. For waiting. For being good.

He moved close to the boy, inches at a time. Finally he slid his hand through the waves of thick blond hair. Benjamin jumped. He actually shivered and shook uncontrollably. That was nice.

“It’s all right . . . to be afraid,” Potter whispered. “There’s a strange joy to be found in fear. Trust me on that, Benjamin. I’ve been there. I know exactly what you’re feeling now.”

Potter could barely stand it! This was just too much of a great thing, a dream come true. He had been denied this forbidden pleasure—and now here was this absolutely perfect, beautiful, stunning young man.

What was this? Benjamin was trying to speak through his gag. Potter wanted to hear the boy’s sweet voice, to see his luscious mouth move, to look into his eyes. He bent forward and kissed the gag over the boy’s mouth. He actually felt Benjamin’s lips underneath, their softness.

Then Mr. Potter couldn’t stand it for one second more. His fingers fumbling, incoherent whispers seeping from his mouth, his body shaking as if he had palsy, he removed the blindfold and looked into Benjamin’s eyes.

“May I call you Benjy?” he whispered.

Chapter 31

Chapter 31

ANOTHER OF THE CAPTIVES, Audrey Meek, watched her obscene, deviate, possibly insane captor as he calmly and coolly fixed her breakfast. She was bound by rope—loosely, but she couldn’t run. She couldn’t believe any of this was happening, had happened, and presumably would continue happening. She was being held in a nicely furnished cabin somewhere, who knew where, and she was still flashing back to the incredible moment when she had been grabbed at the King of Prussia Mall, when they had yanked her away from Sarah and Andrew. Dear God, were the children all right?