CapturedbytheSS (15 page)

“I should leave you home alone more often,” he mutters.

I only swallow hard at that statement. He makes it sound as
if this is going to last longer than I initially thought.

“And what else did you do today, American, other than curl
up with my uniform?”

“I went through your closet and all your drawers.”

“I’m not surprised. Did my little spy find anything
interesting?”

“I found a wedding band in your drawer and a wedding album
in the closet.”

“Hmm, I didn’t know I had a wedding album in my closet.”
After pausing for a moment, he adds, “Oh, I think I kept it because it had some
nice pictures of my friends.”

“Are you still married?” I ask.

He chuckles at the question. “No,” he answers simply.

“How long were you married?”

He sighs. “A few years. It didn’t work out.” A bit bitterly,
he adds, “She was only interested in being married to an SS officer.
Apparently, it opens lots of social doors.”

I find it strange he’s offering so much information. I think
finding me with his uniform knocked him off guard. I’m tempted to ask another
question, but I think he wants to keep talking. I’m not sure what exactly I
sense from my captor. Despair? Anger, maybe? I’m hoping silence prods him to
speak again.

“It’s strange,” he mutters, “that you’re asking me about
her. I haven’t thought about her in so long until this morning when I was
securing your leash to the bed, and it reminded me how—”

He stops suddenly. I have no idea what he’s trying to say. I
sense his mood darkening even further. Unfortunately, I’m not learning anything
about my captor. Nothing he’s saying is making any sense. Why would chaining me
to his bed remind him of his ex-wife? He wouldn’t do the same thing to his wife
before going to work.

“What’s your name?” I ask cautiously, trying to learn
something a bit more useful. I’m hoping he keeps talking to me.

He only chuckles. I think my question snapped him out of
whatever dark mood he was slipping into. “You’re very inquisitive tonight,
American. But you don’t need to know my name.”

Somehow, I knew he wouldn’t tell me. Since he won’t tell me
his name, I try to think of more general questions to ask instead.

“Will you answer a few more of my questions?”

“Maybe. What do you want to know?”

I don’t have a specific question but talking in the dark
like this is nice. I’ve never just lay in bed in the dark and talked to
someone. It’s very intimate. I scramble for a question and quickly come up with
one. “What did you do today?”

Again, he seems amused by my question. “My day was actually
quite dull. Mostly meetings about budgets and financial reports. Nothing
exciting. Most of my days are very mundane. I don’t usually get to interrogate
lovely American spies.” After a brief pause, he adds, “Although I did have an
appointment with your driver this morning.”

A wave of anger crashes down on me. “And what did
he
want?”

“To receive his reward of course. The empire does offer
generous rewards for spies, you know.”

I don’t say anything.

“I actually keyed in the electronic transfer of funds
myself. Usually, my secretary handles those details after I give the
authorization, but with you, I wanted to handle the transaction personally.”

His tone is strange. I have the impression that paying my
driver’s reward was the highlight of his day.

“I very much enjoyed paying your driver. It’s the empire’s
money, of course, but I couldn’t help but feel I was purchasing you at the
time.” His hand runs firmly down my back. His touch is strangely possessive.

Silence. My breath hitches as he strokes me.

“You like being with me. You like being in my custody.”

They’re not questions and he hasn’t drugged me, but I still
feel compelled to answer. “Yes.” But I don’t want to like it.

Without saying anything, he rolls away from me and then
turns on a lamp. I blink several times at the light. Wordlessly, he drapes his
discarded t-shirt over the shade, dimming the light. I have no idea what he’s
doing. He walks across the room and then leaves the bedroom. Lights in the hall
flick on. I hear him moving around in another room. The lights in the hall once
again go out, leaving only the dim light of the lamp with his t-shirt over it.

When he returns, I can tell he’s holding something, but I
don’t know what. I think he’s intentionally hiding whatever it is behind him.
After climbing back into bed, he takes hold of my right wrist and pulls it up
toward the headboard. I realize he’s holding cut sections of rope. I’m not
sure, but I think they’re the same pieces of rope he restrained me with on the
first night.

“What are you doing?” I ask. A ripple of genuine concern
washes through me as he ties my right wrist to the headboard.

“I’m tying you up,” he declares simply.

“Why?”

“Because I want to, and I like how you look tied up. Now
stop asking me questions, American.”

After tugging my left wrist up, he knots the rope tightly to
the headboard, pinning my limb. The rough rope digs into my flesh. I pull
against the restraints, but I quickly find out he hasn’t left any wiggle room
for escape. Somehow, being tied up on a bed like this freaks me out. It reminds
me a little too much of certain films I had to watch. Squeezing my eyes shut, I
can feel myself trembling beneath him. His body is like a warm blanket over
mine.

“It’s all right,” he murmurs against my ear. “You know I
won’t hurt you.”

For some reason, I do believe him. Aside from a little arm
twisting and a few needle pricks, he’s yet to
actually
harm me, but I
can’t easily shake off a lifetime of training.

“Please,” I whisper. “I don’t like being tied up like this.
I didn’t like it the first night either.”

“It reminds you of what they told you would happen, doesn’t
it?”

Sometimes, I feel he’s seen the same damn films I have.

“Yes,” I whisper. “There were a couple of really vicious
rape films they made me watch where a woman was tied to a bed.” I’m not sure
why I told him that. Maybe I shouldn’t have admitted those films freaked me
out.

He murmurs something. I have the impression he has indeed
seen what I’m referring to. “For now, just believe that I won’t really harm
you. It’s all right if you’re afraid. I just like seeing you tied up, that’s
all. It makes you look so vulnerable. Besides, it pleases me to see you this
way.”

I squelch my protests and simply try to relax. I don’t want
to provoke my captor, but oddly enough, a part of me also wants to please him.

Shifting around a bit, he straddles my hips and merely
studies me. I involuntarily tug against my restraints. A slow smile spreads
across his face. Uncertain what to do or what to feel, I look away from him.

With a sigh, he returns to his previous position over me.
His lips brush against mine before turning into a familiar, parted-lip kiss.
Almost immediately, his kiss makes my nervousness dissolve. If I weren’t tied
up, I would embrace him. His tongue slides past my lips, claiming my mouth.
Every thought evaporates.

Backing away slightly, he breaks our kiss and shifts around
a bit. His firm lips caress my left nipple. I reluctantly giggle from the light
touch. If I weren’t tied up, I’d push him away. A bit firmer, his lips take my
nipple in his mouth. A warm, wet tongue glides over the sensitive flesh of my
areola. The tip of his tongue mercilessly teases my erect nipple. I gasp, a bit
overwhelmed. I’ve never had anyone lick or suck my nipples. It feels weird,
more tickly than arousing.

I tug harder against my restraints. Another soft giggle
escapes me.

Blissfully, he stops. His knuckles rasp over my other
nipple. I like his knuckles better.

Shifting around, he hovers over me at arm’s length. His eyes
settle on my tied wrists. I’m not sure what he sees. His cock prods at my slit.
I tug against my restraints as his thick arousal stretches my snug passage.

“You are so tight,” he mutters, slowly pushing his cock
inside me. “You feel so good.” He sinks down and settles on his elbows,
trapping me under him. His lips barely graze mine.

He slowly inserts himself as I twist against my restraints.
He tries to pull out a bit, but my passage is like a warm fist around him and his
partial withdrawal hurts a little. I whimper in response.

“Shh, it’s okay.” He gently kisses and laves my ear. “Just
relax.” His tongue draws a line down my neck to my shoulder.

The feel of his hard organ filling my passage excites and
arouses me in a way that truly shocks me. How can I like this? Guilt filters
through me as fresh tears sting my eyes. Although it takes a great deal of
effort, I manage not to sob. I turn my face away, hoping he doesn’t notice my
tears.

His hand caresses my cheek. His nimble fingers take hold of
my jaw and turn my face up. His thumb swabs the hot tears streaming down my
temples.

“It’s all right, American. I won’t keep you tied up very
long. Don’t cry.”

Relief washes over me. He doesn’t know why I’m crying. He
thinks it’s because I’m tied up.

His lips tenderly brush against mine. “Just relax.” His
gentle words and soft kisses actually do make me feel better, and I manage to
lose myself in the moment. I don’t quite understand it, but I feel I’m
surrendering myself to him. And strangely enough, the idea excites me.

Hot wetness gushes from me, coating his inserted cock. He
groans softly.

Again, he patiently pulls out a bit. His cock glides from me
without tugging at my passage. He slowly pushes himself back in.

“Oh,” I groan, twisting against the ropes. I writhe
helplessly beneath him as he slowly fucks me. I’m not sure why I feel compelled
to struggle a bit against my restraints, but the action seems to please him.

His movements become more steady and rhythmic as his thick
cock glides in and out of my passage. With each thrust, he grinds against my
clit. His expert movements pull a quick climax from me, which is something he’s
been able to do from the beginning. As usual, he doesn’t stop when I come. But
instead, he continues to fuck me, turning my release into a near-painful and
dragged-out ordeal where I’m forced to come over and over again.

I look up at him, silently pleading him to let my release
find an end.

The expression on his face is focused and driven. His lips
gently graze mine as he works. I have the impression he’s going to drag this
out as long as possible. Quivering beneath him, I alternate between panting and
whimpering. I tug against my restraints as hard as I can. The muscles in my
stomach and legs tighten and cramp painfully.

“Please,” I whisper.

He groans deeply. I feel him reach his own breaking point,
spilling his hot seed inside me as he shudders over me. With a final, brutal
thrust, he finally stops. I cry out in relief as my prolonged orgasm finally
reaches an end. I honestly think we’re finished as he pulls himself from me.
But his thumb suddenly presses against my clit as he slips his hand between us.
Sliding over my slick folds, his thumb rolls and pushes against my overly
sensitive nub.

I try to close my legs, not entirely certain I can handle
much more, but he’s still positioned between my thighs. I yank and twist
against my restraints, but the action only serves to excite him. His touch
forces me to come again and again, over and over, until I’m
literally
sobbing and screaming in ecstasy.

Resting my face against his shoulder, I feel only sleepy and
thoroughly spent. I’m no longer restrained, but I have no memory of him untying
me.

“What happened?” I whisper.

“You fainted.”

I’m not sure what exactly I hear in his tone. Satisfaction,
maybe. He sits up and retrieves something from the nightstand near him. With a
low groan, he leans over me. He gently drags a cool, wet cloth over my
tear-stained face.

“I must say it’s quite satisfying to make you faint from ecstasy.”

A ripple of genuine concern washes through me. I guess he
senses something from me because he adds, “Don’t worry. I won’t push you so
hard every time.”

Every time? Just how long is this going to last? He kinda
makes this sound long-term. I want to ask what he means by that, but I’m too
exhausted and confused.

He patiently swabs my face before passing the wet cloth over
my folds and inner thighs. Drowsiness washes over me as he mops away our hot
juices. I’m not uncomfortable, and I don’t mind the wetness still oozing from
my cleft, but I sense he’s enjoying tending to me. He even scoots my limp body
closer to him, so I’m not lying in the wet spot.

Once he finishes, he sets the rag on the nightstand.

“Come here,” he whispers, taking me against his broad chest.
The cool, wet cloth chilled me a bit, and I cling to him, shivering. He holds
me tighter, warming me, and I drift to sleep in his arms.

Chapter Five

Sleep falls slowly from me. Sighing, I roll over, searching
for my captor. My hand slides across the mattress but finds no one. A bit
reluctantly, I open my eyes. The sun is up, but I can tell it’s early. Sitting
up, I spot my captor in the chair nearest the bed, the same chair he watched me
in last night. I have no idea how long he’s been there. He’s dressed in a fresh
uniform. The rim of his hat is shadowing his eyes, but I can tell he’s staring
intensely at me.

I’m tempted to say something, but I sense that speaking
right now may not be a good idea.

“Good morning,” he whispers.

“Good morning.”

Several minutes of silence passes.

“I very much enjoyed last night,” he replies evenly.

I have the impression he doesn’t want me to respond. After
several minutes of simply watching me, he stands. He cocks his head as he
approaches me, seemingly angry about something. I hear his boots hitting the
hardwood floor. He stops by the bed, and I notice his black bag is unzipped.