Obsession - Girl Abducted (22 page)

Emily began to play with herself during the day as well.

She really hadn't much else to do. Her time when she had been Mark's slave had been spent chained, bound, cuffed— tortured or adored, always serving him in some way. She had never liked television and there was only so much reading she could do.

When Mark was working, she would slip into her bedroom, keeping her ear cocked for any sound that he was coming.

She would slip her hand into her panties and bring herself to a rapid release. Though unbidden, the images in her mind as she brought herself to orgasm always included Mark. Scenes from their time together would swirl through her mind—the torture, the tenderness, the whippings and the kisses intertwined.

As the week waned her courage increased, along with a yet unnamed anxiety. She tried to bring up the subject of her leaving but Mark refused to discuss it. He had made his decision—she would be set free. She would return to her life and he would rebuild his.

Mark behaved calmly with her, betraying little emotion.

There was no repeat episode of the first evening—no display
of emotion—his pride wouldn't allow it. Much of the time he silently cursed himself for what he had done. Why had he meddled with something so perfect? He had had her just where he wanted her—at his feet, at his mercy. Yet he felt there was no going back—the die was cast.

The week slid inexorably toward the ending he himself had chosen in his despair. Tomorrow morning he would drive her to a bus station in a nearby town. Arrangements had been made to sell this house and all its contents (except the contents of the playroom—that he would take to the dumpster), once he gave the word to his broker, a man he'd never met in person. By the time the authorities descended, he would be halfway round the world, with a new identity and a new life. A life without her.

He could have kept things as they were. Emily would have remained his permanent captive, enslaved and forever at his beck and call. When had that no longer become enough? Why hadn't he kept her on her knees? Why had he lifted her up, released her chains, clothed her and told her she must go?

She would leave him and life would lose its meaning.

He told himself to stop being melodramatic. His life didn't hinge on her. That was ridiculous. He could disappear into oblivion and find another slave girl. This time a willing one.

He had had them before, hadn't he? He knew they were out there, waiting, yearning to submit.

But they wouldn't be Emily. They wouldn't be
his
Emily. As his cock rose hard in his pants he realized he had to have her, at least once more, before she left him. Once more to taste her sweet lips, to feel her hot cunt, to make her suffer, at
least a little, just for him. He'd held himself back all week. He hadn't even touched her. Not with his hand, not with his whip. He had behaved as if she were a guest, almost a stranger, in his house. They were cordial, polite, distant.

Just beneath his cool exterior his heart was breaking.

Inside, his lust raged unchecked. He could hold it no longer.

He had to claim her at least once more. To taste her sweetness, to feel her heart thud against his as she trembled in his arms, to feel her sensual heat, to revel in her perfect beauty one last time.

Emily stood at the window in her room, watching the last splash of color fade from the sky. She was dressed in a lemon yellow cotton dress with a batik pattern of fish and seashells in deep ink blue. She was barefoot and her long chestnut hair flowed freely over her back. Her clothes, the things she'd arrived in, were laid out for tomorrow. She would take nothing of his with her—none of the beautiful clothing, nor the strange jewelry she'd worn at her wrists, ankles and sex.

She touched her bottom through the material of the dress—

his mark would always remind her of this strange time.

Lost in a daydream, she didn't hear anyone enter the room. Suddenly Mark was behind her, his hands gripping her shoulders, his scent enveloping her. "Don't move." What was happening? She started to turn around, to ask. His hands tightened, the fingers digging painfully into her flesh. "I said
don't move
."

Emily froze. Her heart began to pound. The gig was up.

The game was on. It had all been some cruel bizarre test and now she would pay the price. While a part of her was
terrified, she couldn't help but feel a kind of elation. He wanted her! He still wanted her! Her thoughts were cut short as he spoke, his voice low and urgent.

"Put your wrists up against the window. High up." Emily obeyed, trying to control her quickening breathing. She felt his hand on her dress, dragging down the zipper that ran its length. He pulled her body from the window, pushing the dress from her shoulders to the floor. Emily shifted as she felt his fingers unhooking her bra. "I said stay still!" His hands slid along her hips, the fingers slipping beneath the elastic. With a sudden jerk, the silky fabric was torn from her body.

Emily gasped and again started to turn her head but was stopped by his warning. "If you turn around, or move or cry out, you'll regret it." His voice was commanding. Gone was the almost timorous man she had experienced during this long, strange week. Her master seemed to have returned to her.

She turned back toward the deepening night sky and pressed her cheek against the cool window. She couldn't control the whimper of fear when he pressed his hard body against hers. She could feel his warm, naked chest against her bare skin. His arms went around her, his fingers finding her nipples, which he roughly fondled, twisting and pulling them until they were fully erect.

His large hands slid down her slim torso, over her smooth belly to her pussy. For a moment, his hand cupped the smooth mons. He was registering the fact that she was still smooth, still bare. He said nothing. A light kick to her ankle told Emily to spread her legs, which she immediately did, her
body so used to obeying him she barely thought about it.

Rough fingers slid into her, drawing the juices from her, fucking her. His fingers found her clit, roughly massaging it, forcing a moan from her.

Emily began to tremble, an orgasm thundering up through her body in shuddering waves. Still in position against the window, she felt her knees buckling. She pressed her hands hard against the windowpane for support. "Oh, oh," she moaned, trying to say the words she knew her master required, "Please, may I-?"

He cut her off, "No! Don't ask me for anything. Don't ask permission—it's no longer mine to give." Emily was too far gone, too close to release to process the import of his words.

She let her orgasm lift and carry her into a consuming pleasure as his fingers continued their relentless dance against her sex.

As she sagged against the window, Emily felt Mark's naked body press against hers, hard and strong. Gently he turned her toward him, again drawing her into an embrace, his cock like steel against her belly.

Moving her from the window, Mark pressed her against the wall as he hoisted her onto his hips. As she wrapped her legs around him he lowered her onto his shaft. She felt her sex clamp around his thick cock as it filled her completely, an after-spasm from her recent orgasm making her jerk against him.

For a moment Mark just held her, his face resting against her bare breasts, his strong arms encircling her. Pulling her tighter, he began to lift and lower her on his manhood. He
was breathing hard, his head thrown back, his face suffused with lust. Impulsively she wrapped her arms around him, dropping her head to his shoulder as he pummeled her into ecstasy.

Mark stole a glance at the girl of his dreams, the woman he was sending away. She was dressed in the clothing she'd worn when he'd abducted her—the bright yellow sweater and faded jeans, her feet shod in expensive tan leather boots.

How he yearned to take her in his arms. To kiss her hair and tell her how much he loved her. If he stood up now and took it all back—rescinded her right to leave, informed her she would remain here forever, bound to him as slave to master until death did them part, would she accept it? And if she did, what would it mean? He knew in some ways she had accepted her lot as his sexual property. She was like those hostages who became unnaturally attached to their captors.

She might think she wanted to stay, but it would be fear, not love, motivating her behavior.

He stood up. "Let's go." Silently, Emily stood as well. For a moment it seemed she would speak, but she said nothing. It was still early, the sun was just peeking up over the mountains. Mark opened the door of his car and motioned for her to get in back. "I'm going to blindfold you so you aren't tempted to remember the way back. You will stay on the floor. If you try to get up, I'll tie you down, understand?"
His voice was cold. Emily began to cry as he tied the sash tightly around her head. He pressed her onto the floor. She laid her head on the pillow he had thoughtfully put there for her. The door slammed and a moment later, he slid into the driver seat and started the engine.

They drove in silence for close to an hour. Emily had stopped crying. Mark was gripping the steeling wheel so hard his knuckles were white. His heart felt so heavy he thought it might crush him from inside. They pulled into the old bus station. "Sit up," he said, as he pulled into a parking space at the back of the nearly empty lot. He turned off the ignition and climbed into the back seat next to Emily.

He removed the blindfold and handed her an envelope.

"There's five hundred dollars in there. That should be plenty to get you back to the city or wherever you're going." Emily looked at him, her large violet-blue eyes pooling with tears.

"What's that?" She pointed to the numbers written neatly in the center of the envelope.

Mark actually blushed as he mumbled, "It's a cell number.

In case—I don't know. In case you needed to contact me. It will be a working number for the next twenty four hours. After that you won't be able to reach me—ever." She looked at him, tilting her head to one side, her expression bemused. He couldn't believe he'd bothered with that absurd gesture! As if she would every want to reach him for anything ever, except to lead the police to him. Stupid, foolish romantic idiot.

Silently he cursed himself. Aloud he said gruffly, "Go on. Go, before I change my mind."

Emily sat in the bus station holding her little purse in her lap. There was a cell phone inside it, but the battery was long-dead. She'd bought a ticket for New York, but she hadn't called anyone yet. Not her parents, not her agent, not the police. She'd watched as Mark drove away, feeling strangely as if he were taking a part of her with him. She fingered the bus ticket—a one-way ticket for the next bus, which would be arriving in forty minutes.

Why had he given her his cell number? Did he actually think she would call him? She thought about his face—the clear gray-green eyes that darkened when he was aroused, the strong jaw, the generous mouth that could curl so cruelly when he had a whip in his hand. She shifted a little on the hard bench as her body recalled his touch. She could almost feel his large, hard cock claiming her over and over, his hands on her throat, her breasts, her ass—possessing her completely, possessing her as no one ever had before. What would sex be like now without the overlay of dominance and forced submission? While he had truly frightened her, even terrorized her with his brutal behavior, she couldn't deny he had also made her feel wildly alive. Pleasure and pain had been woven skillfully over and around her for so long she no longer knew if she could experience one without the other.

Emily glanced up at the large clock on the wall. Twenty minutes and she would be on her way. She would call her parents when she got back to the city. She would not betray him—beyond her own humiliation if he were arrested and tried, she suddenly knew she couldn't bear the thought of his
being jailed for his "crimes". Yes, certainly he had committed a heinous crime—abducting and keeping her against her will for months on end—controlling her every move, enslaving her both body and soul. And yet...

What would life be like now—thrust back into the limelight, bombarded by the media, surrounded by people who were intrigued with her fame and her supposed beauty, none of whom knew her at all. No lover before Mark had ever tapped into her latent submissive sexuality or been able to release her fierce passion. Despite what he'd done to her, or perhaps partially because of it, she felt more alive in his arms than at any other time. The thought she would never see him again ... she shook her head. This was insane. She was still brainwashed. It would fade as she reentered "the real world".

She sat quietly, her mind drifting.
Mark.
She couldn't get his image out of her mind. She could almost feel his hand on her thigh, his mouth on hers, his cock nestling against her ass as they slept.
Sir.

She looked down at the envelope with the number printed neatly in the center. There was a pay phone beneath the clock. Emily reached into her pocket for some coins.

THE END
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