Enslaved (7 page)

Jesus god, I want her. I want all of her.

The admission was nothing new, but he understood he wanted her for more than just a month’s enforced play. He wanted her to give herself to him, not because she had no choice, but because she wanted what he offered, because she wanted
him
.

Even as he admitted this, he knew the odds were a thousand to one. He’d taken her by force, leaving her no choice but to accept his terms or find herself in prison. She would hate him for this. She would run as fast and as far as she could, the moment he let her go. Was a month of unbridled pleasure and control worth losing her forever?

Or was there another way? Could he somehow take her over to such a degree that she truly became his slave girl? Living only to serve and please him, all thought of her former life and misguided rejection of what he offered buried and forgotten? Could he reduce and control her world to such a degree that she lost sense of time and the outside world, content to stay in his dungeon forever?

Sam shook his head, aware he was treading on dangerous ethical ground. He pushed the strange forbidden thoughts away. He would punish her, yes, and then he would let her go. As they’d agreed.

He continued to gaze at the lovely woman, splayed and bound for his pleasure, his for the taking. He stroked his shaft, several hard tugs to ease the pressure in his aching balls. He leaned over her back, reaching to unbuckle the ball gag and pull it gently from between her lips.

Rae swallowed and then moaned softly, a breathy sweet sound. Her body was wet with sweat beneath him, hot to the touch. As he stared at the crisscross of red welts he’d inflicted on her soft, perfect skin, his cock surged.

Standing upright, he grabbed it, guiding it toward her cunt. He hadn’t planned to fuck her, not yet, not the first night. His cock was to be a gift, something she earned. But he couldn’t help it. He had to have her, and after all, she was his slave, his cunt, to do with as he wished.

He gripped her hips as he guided himself into her. He moaned, a guttural sound pulled from deep inside him as her velvet wet heat enveloped him. Usually able to pace his pleasure to make it last, this time Sam could no more control his body than she’d been able to against the onslaught of the Hitachi wand he’d placed in its stand between her legs.

She was perfection.

“Rae,” he whispered raggedly before getting a hold of himself. Shutting down his mind, he let his body take over, surrendering fully to the tight, hot grip of her cunt. After only a few strokes, he felt the climax surging up through his balls, sliding along his shaft and erupting in spasms of hot, aching pleasure inside her.

He allowed himself a few moments of rest before pulling his spent cock from her warmth. He needed to get her off the sawhorse. She’d been tied down long enough for her first time. Rae groaned and whimpered as he removed the earplugs and the sleep mask and then quickly untied the rope, unwinding it from her wrists and ankles.

He lifted her limp body into his arms. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slack, the lips parted. He held her close as he carried her to the bed in the corner of the dungeon. Gently, he lay her down against the soft sheets. She winced slightly as her abraded skin made contact, but kept her eyes closed.

Same went to the bathroom and returned with a glass of water and a cool, wet washcloth, which he dabbed against her face and neck. He smoothed back the tumble of her tangled hair. Her dark lashes shadowed her flushed cheeks.

Sam felt almost tender toward his slave girl, nearly forgetting she’d been lying to him and stealing from him for months. “Rae,” he said in a quiet voice, though it was clearly a command. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”

After a beat her eyelids fluttered and then slowly opened. Her pupils were dilated and unfocused. He reached for the glass that he’d set on the nightstand beside the bed and held it near her. “Are you thirsty?”

Rae turned her head toward the glass, her eyes focusing. Her tongue moved over her lips and she nodded, though she made no effort to reach for it. Sam sat beside her and put his arm beneath her shoulders, cradling her as he helped her into a sitting position. She leaned heavily against him.

A part of him knew he had taken her too far, too fast, but he pushed the idea from his mind. She’d needed this—it was her crash course in submission. After all, they only had thirty days.

“Drink.” He lifted the glass to her lips, tipping it carefully, letting her take her fill. She drank until the glass was empty and then sagged back against his arm, closing her eyes.

“Are you hungry?”

She nodded, eyes still closed.

“I’ll bring your dinner.”

Sam eased his arm from beneath her shoulders, letting her head fall to the pillow. He stared down at her a moment. She was breathing easily, and her face was less flushed. She was fine.

He grabbed his leather pants and pulled them on, not bothering with his shirt or boots. He went quickly to the kitchen, taking the plate he’d prepared for her and left in the oven to keep warm. He poured a glass of wine and put the food and drink on a tray, along with a napkin.

Rae lay as he’d left her. Her eyes were closed and her chest rose and fell in a deep, even cadence. He set the tray down on the nightstand and stared down at the sleeping girl, drinking in the lovely curves of her body.

He regarded the neat, dark triangle of pubic hair at her sex. He would shave it so he could better see and access the soft, rising mound of female flesh beneath it. The image made his cock stir but he ignored it—tomorrow was a new day.

“Ready to eat?” he queried.

Rae opened her eyes, turning her head toward the tray. “Yes,” she replied in a low voice. She lifted herself higher onto the pillows, wincing slightly as she moved. Her eyes remained on the food, her tongue flicking over her lips.

Sam sat beside her on the bed and took the plate from the tray, balancing it on his knees. He nodded toward the plate. “I even cut the corn off the cob for you.” He cut a piece of steak and speared it with the fork. He lifted it to her lips. “Here you go.”

“I can—“

“Unh uh,” Sam cut her off.

He saw she realized what she’d done—speaking out of turn. “Oh!” she gasped. “Please, um, may I have permission to speak?”

Sam regarded her, amused. At least she was trying. “Yes.”

“Could I feed myself?”

“No.”

He watched the frustration moving its way over her features, no doubt fighting with the very real hunger she must be feeling. Hunger won out. Rae opened her mouth, her eyes meeting his for a second before sliding away. He let her take the morsel, watching her chew and swallow.

Sam fed her, lifting the wine glass to her lips between bites. When the plate was clean and the wine glass empty, he asked, “Had enough?”

Rae nodded and Sam decided it was time to add a little structure to her responses. “Kneel up on the carpet, Rae,” he instructed.

He heard the small, exasperated sigh but let it pass. He waited patiently as she lifted herself from the bed and knelt in front of him. “Hands behind your head,” he reminded her. “Knees apart. Show me that cunt.”

A pretty blush rose over her cheeks, rather amusing in the circumstances, but also curiously touching. Sam had to remind himself she was a liar and a thief as he stared down at her. “Going forward,” he informed her, “you will address me as Sir. You will continue to speak only in response to a direct question, except when asking for permission to speak. Are we clear on this?”

“Yes…
Sir
.”

Sam caught the pause and the emphasis on the word, aware of the insolence still lingering in her tone and the anger alive in the sudden flash of fire in her eyes. He smiled, shaking his head. For this month at least, he would wipe all trace of insolence and anger from her, leaving only the passion. She would learn
true
submission. She would come not only to accept, but to embrace what he gave her.

He would see to it.

Rae awoke with a start and sat bolt upright in her bed. The sudden tug against her throat made her cough and sputter. She fell back against the pillow, her hands fumbling at the collar. She couldn’t remove it when it was locked to the chain, not that she would dare anyway.

She lay still, letting the dark dreams ebb away and willing herself to calm down. She reached for the sheets, which had twisted around her legs, pulling them up to her chin. “You’re okay,” she murmured to herself.

She turned toward the baby monitor that sat beside her on the nightstand. Was he listening, even now? Her hand twitched with the desire to smash the monitor, to hurl it across the room, but she didn’t touch it, too afraid of what might happen if she did.

There was a light glimmering from the bathroom, the door of which had been left ajar. Rae ran her hands through her hair, pushing it back from her face. She closed her eyes, imagining the hot, refreshing water of the shower streaming over her, fresh, sweet smelling soap washing away the sweat and grime, cleansing her of his touch.

His touch…

Letting her legs fall open, Rae moved her fingers lightly over the folds of her pussy. She felt the faint throb of her clit as her fingers grazed its hood. When he’d left her last night, he’d told her she wasn’t to touch herself when she was alone. Her cunt, he’d crudely said, belonged to him. Who the fuck did he think he was? It was her body to do with as she liked. It was none of his fucking business what she did when she was alone. And anyway, how would he know…

Having spent a night of restless sleep, with lots of time to ponder the situation, Rae had to admit that yesterday had been terrifying and thrilling all at once. He’d done things to her she would never have allowed, never have dreamed she would want, and yet… And yet she couldn’t deny her own powerful reaction.

It confused and upset her to think her body had betrayed her as it had—coming so hard and so often while being tortured and abused. What was wrong with her? She was a free-thinking, independent woman. She wasn’t some doormat to be used and fucked when it suited a man. She wasn’t an object to be degraded, tied down and humiliated for a man’s amusement.

In every relationship she’d been in, she’d been the one in control, the one who called the shots, and that suited her. It meshed with her concept of herself as a powerful, competent and liberated woman. She was no shrinking flower, kneeling at the feet of some
man
. On the contrary, Rae Johansen didn’t need a man to feel complete.

Her relationships never lasted much longer than a few months—invariably she would get bored with the guy, irritated by his bad habits, annoyed with his neediness or his failure to properly appreciate her. She was always the one to end things, aware when it was time to cut her losses and move on to greener pastures. There were plenty of men eager for her attention and she was in no hurry to settle down with just one.

Sure, it would have been nice in theory to fall in love, to have someone love her, but was there even such a thing as romantic love? She thought about her married friends, all of them disillusioned in some way by their relationship. What they’d sworn was true love all too often seemed to settle into barely tolerating one another, miserable and lonelier together than when they’d been on their own. People just hooked up so they wouldn’t be alone. Love was an illusion, a fairytale. People used each other to get what they needed and when it didn’t work out, they moved on. It was cleaner that way, and more honest. That’s how she’d always done it, and so far it had worked just fine, thank you.

After he’d fed her, Sam had allowed her to wash her face and brush her teeth, but had refused her request for a shower. “In the morning,” he’d said. “You’ll be properly groomed in the morning.” She hadn’t liked the sound of that, but she had been too exhausted and frightened by the long, arduous day to question him, even if she’d dared.

He’d locked her collar to a long chain that was bolted into the headboard and had the gall to tell her to “sleep tight”. He’d showed her the urinal under the bed to use if she needed to during the night and then he’d left her there, all alone, chained to the bed like a prisoner.

Thirty days
…

Somehow she’d slept and was reasonably sure it was now morning. So she’d made it through the first day. Twenty-nine left. Could she really endure being this man’s prisoner for that long? Rae shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. Why had she agreed to this bizarre arrangement? Would he keep his word at the end?

She thought of the agreement they’d drafted that would indemnify her of all wrongdoing, going over the wording in her mind. It still left her on the hook to pay back what she’d taken. She’d underestimated him, she realized that now. She’d gotten careless, overconfident as her scheme continued to work, month after month. She’d almost gotten away with it too—that was the infuriating thing. She’d only needed a little more time, a little more money.

She was just
borrowing
the money, after all. She’d always planned to pay the company back, some day. She’d been in a tight spot and she was nothing if not resourceful. She’d done what she needed to in order to stay afloat. And after all, didn’t she deserve the funds? She was the one who’d saved him from himself. He’d been so wrapped up in his software code and the miracle of his own genius, he’d lost focus on marketing and finance. She’d saved his damn company, and what gratitude had he shown? Instead of bringing her onboard as a full-fledged partner as he’d promised, he’d let her continue to work as his
assistant
, a hired hand with no direct stake in the business.