Enslaved (13 page)

“Lean back against the desk,” he instructed. “Brace yourself with your hands and spread your legs. Show me my cunt.” He pushed a stack of papers from the cluttered desk and pointed to the cleared area. Reluctantly, Rae did as she was told. Though he regularly examined her pussy, she still hadn’t gotten used to his scrutiny.

He licked his third finger and inserted it gently into her. He smiled that shit-eating grin of his. “Exactly as I thought. You’re soaking wet, though whether it’s from watching that guy on the video whip that girl, or from sucking my cock, it’s hard to say.”

The phone rang, making Rae jump. They both turned toward it, letting it ring a second and third time. “I might as well get it,” Sam said, his mouth curling into an evil smile. “Your job is to stay quiet, got it? You make a peep and you’ll pay, I promise.”

His finger still buried in her pussy, he reached with his other hand for the receiver. “Sam Ryker.”

He listened a while and then began to speak in technical jargon about some piece of programming code as he casually fingered her. He stood, moving to stand beside her as he pressed his finger deeper, crooking it in such a way until he found that hot, sweet spot.

She bit her lower lip to keep from making a sound and squeezed her eyes shut. No one had ever touched her the way he did. No one had ever been able to wrest such powerful reactions from her, even when she did her best to resist. Stealing a glance at Sam’s face, she tried to squirm away slightly without being too obvious, but a stern look from Sam stopped her.

He continued to work his terrible, wonderful magic until, despite her best intentions, a long, low moan slipped from between Rae’s lips. She began to buck and shake, unable to control the climax he was pulling from her. What did she do? Did she pull away? Did she ask permission while he was on the phone, though he’d told her to stay quiet?

“Oh god,” she whispered, “please…may I…”

“Hold on a moment, will you, Jack?”

Sam put his hand over the receiver and turned toward Rae, his hand still cupping her sex, his fingers still moving inside her. “You are a very naughty girl,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “I told you to stay still and quiet, and here you are trembling and moaning. Jack might hear you! What should I tell him is going on?”

“Sam! Sir, I’m sorry! I can’t help it, oh!”

He continued his relentless fingering as she gasped helplessly. It was too late. She couldn’t stop the tide of this orgasm if her life depended on it. She opened her mouth, trying to form the words to ask for permission, but only managing a guttural grunt as she hurled headlong into a crashing wave of pure sensation.

She sat up slowly, Sam’s papers scattered at her feet, her heart still thumping. She must have passed out for a second or two and it took her a moment to orient herself. Sam still had the phone to his ear, though he’d resumed his seat. “You too, buddy. Give me a call if it happens again.”

He cradled the receiver and looked up at her, raising his eyebrows. “I’d say a punishment is in order, wouldn’t you?”

Rae sighed. What could she say?

Rae barely tasted the waffles with strawberries Sam fed her that morning after her grooming and shower. She was waiting nervously to find out what her punishment would entail. She’d come to learn the difference between punishments and training. The trainings could still be brutal and painful, but the focus was more on the sexual pleasure he would pull from her while also subjecting her to various painful distractions. She might be sexually teased or tortured during a punishment, but she was never allowed to come. The punishment was about the suffering.

While Rae sipped at her coffee, Sam left her on the bed and returned with a long thin rod of about eighteen inches with a brown suede handle at one end. He whipped it in the air and let it land against the bed near her leg with a thwack. Rae jumped, startled and frightened by the sound.

“This is a cane. Have you ever been caned, Rae?”

Stupid question. But a direct one, so she answered docilely, “No, Sir.”

Sam ran his fingers over the smooth surface of the cane. “I should cane your cunt, since that’s what you can’t seem to control.” Instinctively Rae crossed her legs and wrapped her arms around her torso. Sam went on, “But since you’ve never been caned, we’ll start with your ass.” He pointed to the floor. “Kneel beside the bed and lean over it, hands over your head on the mattress. I’ll give you five good strokes on each side, and one on each breast for good measure. Then for training, we’ll work on orgasm control, a skill in which you are sorely lacking.”

Rae barely processed what he was saying, having homed in on the words,
five good strokes on each side…one on each breast.
Was he serious! She’d seen a horrible news story once about a man who’d been caned as punishment for his crime in Singapore. They’d showed pictures of his back after the caning—long, cruel stripes dripping with blood!

She felt herself growing dizzy and the food she’d just eaten sat like a stone in her belly. She looked up at Sam with pleading in her eyes. “I can’t…” she whispered. “Blood…”

She had forgotten to ask for permission to speak. She tried to swallow but it felt like there were bits of glass in her throat. She blew out a shuddery breath. Sam sat on the bed beside her. Instead of yelling at her for speaking out of turn, he said, “Make no mistake, this will be a punishment you won’t soon forget.” He put his hand on her thigh, his voice gentler. “I’ll mark you, but I won’t break the skin. That’s dangerous with a cane and could lead to infection and scarring.”

Before Rae could even register her relief, he stood, suddenly unsheathing a sharp glance and turning it on her full force. He pointed to the ground. “Get into position. Now.”

Rae scrambled off the bed and knelt. “That’s it,” Sam said. “Lean over on the mattress and lift your body up so your ass is on the edge of the bed, feet still on the ground.” Rae did as instructed, her toes barely touching the carpet, her ass exposed for the cane. When she felt it moving over her skin, she flinched and jerked with fearful anticipation.

He began easily at first, lightly tapping the skin with the flat of the cane, creating a tingling in her flesh. She knew this was just warm up, and she remained tense with anticipation. “Breathe,” he said from above her. “In and out, take it easy. You know it hurts worse if you clench your muscles. You can make it hard, or you can give in to what’s going to happen anyway. You need to learn to flow with the pain, Rae. Stop fighting it at every turn.”

Knowing he was right, Rae tried to do as he said, breathing in slowly and then exhaling just as slowly, in and out, in and out…

The first real blow whistled in the air, landing with a crack on her left cheek. Rae squealed and gripped the sheets tight in her fingers. “Good,” Sam said. “Just a few days ago and you’d have been trying to cover yourself. You are making good progress, slave girl, in learning to accept the punishments you earn.”

The second blow sliced across her other cheek, leaving a line of searing fire in its wake. “Fuck!” Rae screamed, the word wrenched from her without her being able to stop it.

The third blow caught both cheeks at once, low down where her thighs met her ass and Rae yelped, her nerve endings screaming. She felt sweat breaking out over her body and she was twisting the sheets in fingers cramping from her fierce grip. The cane rained fire down on her skin as she cried out, flinched and jerked but somehow managed to stay in position.

“Now for your breasts,” Sam said, lightly tapping her shoulder with the tip of the cane. “Kneel up and offer them. Cup them in your hands and offer them for the cane.”

Knowing she had no choice, Rae forced herself upright and off the bed. She turned and knelt in position, lightly resting her stinging ass cheeks against her heels. Her hands were trembling as she lifted her breasts. Squeezing her eyes shut, she turned her head away, biting her lip so hard she nearly drew blood.

“Rae. Face me. Open your eyes. You are to watch the cane. One on each breast. If you look away, I’ll start over, do you understand?”

Rae forced herself to face Sam and she opened her eyes, though her lips remained compressed with fear. Sam moved to the side a little and lifted the cane. It came down on her right breast first and she watched in horrified fascination as a line appeared, first white and then turning rapidly to crimson red.

“Oh!” she gasped. Before she could react, the cane came down again, this time on her left breast, drawing a second line of white that morphed into red, the skin rising in a ridge of angry protest. Rae felt sweat breaking out on her upper lip. There was an unpleasant ringing in her ears, and her vision seemed to be narrowing into a tunnel of white. She dropped her breasts and let her head fall heavily forward.

All at once she felt Sam lifting her into his strong arms. Despite the fact he was the one who had done this to her, she found herself curling in against his chest, hiding her face in the dark blond curls at his sternum as he cradled her against him.

He sat on the bed, rocking Rae gently in his arms until the dizziness subsided, the horrible ringing receded and her vision cleared. She stayed still and quiet, enjoying the feel of his strong arms around her. There was blond stubble on his jaw that gave him a roguish look. He smelled good, like sandalwood and manly sweat. She had a sudden crazy impulse to lick his chest, to taste the salt on his skin. Instead she burrowed deeper into his arms, wishing she could just stay there forever.

But all too soon he loosened his grip and rolled her gently onto the bed beside him. He ran a finger along the welts on her breasts—two long ridges, red against the pale skin. Leaning over, he ran his tongue in a teasing circle around the areola and then suckled at the nipple, pulling it taut as it fattened in his mouth. He did the same with the other nipple. Rae couldn’t deny it felt wonderful.

She moaned her approval, savoring the feel of his lips and tongue on her body. In a way, she realized with some surprise, his sensual touch felt even better juxtaposed against the lingering sting from the caning. Pleasure and pain…mingling, mixing, creating something strange and powerful that she didn’t really understand but on some level she was coming to expect, to accept, to…need?

~*~

Luscious, lovely girl. Sam wanted nothing more than to drag his tongue down between her breasts, over the soft rise of her belly and down, down between her legs. He wanted to lap at her spicy-sweet wetness, to feel the swell of her desire and hear her breathy cries as he brought her to orgasm.

He could sense she was nearing a place, if not of acceptance, at least of acknowledgment on some level, that she needed what he offered. No, offered wasn’t the correct term, and Sam was nothing if not a stickler for precision. He was forcing it on her—at least this setting, with its locks and chains and enforced behaviors had been forced upon her. True, she’d agreed to the terms, but only, in her mind, as the lesser of two evils.

Would there come a time when she craved the whip, longed for the cut of the cane, climaxed from having her pussy smacked while she was thoroughly trussed and bound? Or had he ruined any real chance of a love affair by claiming prematurely what he should have nurtured and coaxed into being?

Damn it, what was he even thinking? This wasn’t anything approaching a love affair! It was blackmail, pure and simple. He had blackmailed her into submitting to his BDSM fantasies to avoid facing certain jail time on felony charges. Was he really any better than she was? If she was beginning to respond to the constant stimulation and forced arousal, it might easily be nothing more than a survival mechanism—seeking what little pleasure she could in a terrifying situation.

What the hell was he doing?

Punishing her. She stole a lot of money from me and my company. Not only that, anyone can see she’s a born submissive, even if she denies it to herself.

Yes,
he thought, willing himself to believe it because he wanted it so much to be true,
she wants this! She would never have had the courage or the honesty to seek it out herself, but I knew from that one time together, I knew—she was born for this. It’s what she needs. It’s where she belongs.

Thus reassured for the moment, Sam stood. Rae rolled toward him, opening her eyes. Her lips were parted, her nipples shiny and hard from his kisses. It was a perfect time to introduce her to the nipple clamps. He would incorporate it into her orgasm control training. He stared down at her, feeling his power surging through his veins like a drug.

Eager to get started, he retrieved the clover clamps and fishing weights. Returning to the bed, he led Rae to stand beneath the large eyebolts he’d installed in the ceiling and rigged with hanging rope. Cuffs already dangled conveniently at the ends, waiting for feminine wrists. Sam brought a wooden stool over and set it beneath the hooks.

“Sit on the edge, knees spread, hips forward, cunt accessible,” he ordered, for the moment ignoring his rising erection as Rae perched uncertainly on the edge of the stool, which was low enough to allow her to keep her feet flat on the ground. “Lift your arms so I can cuff you.” Again she obeyed, watching with wide eyes as he secured her wrists in the cuffs and adjusted the ropes until her arms were raised over her head, which also lifted her lovely breasts for the attention they were about to receive.