Obsession - Girl Abducted (6 page)

Mark was touched by her innocence. "That's right. You're my cunt. Why does that make you blush? I can see we will have to desensitize you to that particular word. That will be your little pet name for now. You are my cunt. And you also have a lovely cunt. Later, I'll have you display your lovely cunt to me, but for now you can stay on my lap. Your nickname is now cunt girl, until I decide to change it.

Understand, cunt girl?"

Throughout his little speech the heat in her face and neck continued to rise. Mark was delighted with her sensitivity. She was adorable. "And now, cunt girl," he went on sadistically, I'll teach you more about comportment when speaking to your master. Do you know why you exist?"

Emily looked confused and Mark went on. "You exist to serve me. Now, I'll ask you again. Why do you exist, cunt girl?"

"To—to serve you, sir."
"That's correct. You don't deserve me. Not yet. You deserve to be beaten." He paused and then said, "Now, what do you deserve?"

"To be beaten."

"To be beaten what?"

"To be beaten, sir."

"Good. And not only do you deserve to be beaten, you deserve to be punished for your sins. Now. What do you deserve?"

"I deserve to be beaten, sir. And to be punished for my sins."

"That's right," Mark said, nodding approvingly. "And the way you are to be punished is up to me. Whatever I decree is what you deserve. Understand, cunt girl?"

"Yes, sir," Emily nodded, her eyes round with fear.

His cock was swelling against her ass, but he continued with the lesson. "Now, cunt, I am your master. You must be willing to suffer for me. Who am I?"

"My master, sir."

"And what are you willing to do for me, slave?"

"To suffer for you, sir."

"Yes. To suffer for me, with grace. I'll teach you grace, cunt girl. And I will teach you what it is to suffer." Emily didn't respond.

"Now, let's start again." Over and over Mark drilled Emily in how he expected her to respond. After another thirty minutes or so of questions and answers he was satisfied.

"All right then, cunt girl, time to go back to the cage. I'm going to eat some lunch but I don't expect you are hungry."
"Please, sir, I'm so hungry!"

"No. You aren't. Your master says you aren't. Now, are you hungry, cunt?"

"No, sir," Emily whispered faintly, tears welling in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks.

"No, I didn't think so." Mark fingered the scratches Emily had made on his face that morning. She seemed to understand his silent rebuke. He stood up, lifting the poor girl in his arms and gently setting her on her feet. He gestured for her to kneel next to the couch. "Since you have yet to prove that you are more than an animal—an animal that scratches and bites," he touched his crotch, "I'm going to treat you like an animal for a while longer. Wait there by the couch and don't move." She knelt obediently, fear and misery suffusing her features.

Mark went over to a large chest in the corner of the room.

Inside it were coiled whips, riding crops, collars, leashes and various other instruments of torture. Mark pulled out a heavy collar of black iron, with a single ring hanging in the front. He also removed a long leash made of thick metal links.

Returning to Emily, he set the implements down next to her.

"Lift your hair," he instructed her. Emily lifted her heavy mane of dark hair, baring her long slender neck. Mark attached the heavy collar around her throat. He liked the way it hung heavily on her chest, the ring sitting just above the rounded swell of her breasts.

"This is your animal collar, cunt girl. I'll remove it when you stop acting like an animal. Till then it remains. Here is your leash." He attached it to the ring on the center of the
collar and let it fall between her perfect round breasts. He picked it up again and led her by the leash to the cedar closet.

"Oh, please!" she begged. "Not the cage! Please!"

"Bad animals belong in cages. Emily. Are you saying 'no' to me?" Mark was smiling, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.

Emily didn't answer, but her lips were pressed together, as if she were willing herself to stay silent. "Now get in before I get angry." He pulled hard against the leash, forcing her to stumble forward toward the open cage door. "If you behave with complete obedience, I might let you eat something later.

I haven't decided yet. Get some rest if you can. You won't be sleeping much tonight." With that he left her, after locking her securely in her tiny jail. Her sobs were muffled by the door closing tightly behind him.
CHAPTER Four

Mark felt overcome with remorse as he sat on his bed listening to his sweetheart's cries. Yet he knew he had to be firm if he was to train her properly. She had to be punished for biting and scratching him. She had to learn quickly that his word was law. Her punishment was to be in the cage—his punishment was to listen to her cries.

She quieted after a while. Mark went to prepare her meal.

After an hour, he opened the closet door and unlocked the little cage. He helped his captive from her prison. She swayed, leaning heavily against him as he helped her stand up outside the cage.

Tenderness surged through him as he held her. "You have been punished enough for today, my sweet girl. I'll feed you now."

"Thank you, sir," she whispered faintly. Mark led her out by the leash to the kitchen. When she started to sit down at the table, he pulled her leash gently downward. "Have you forgotten so quickly? You don't sit on furniture, slave. You kneel at my feet. He bent down to unlock the chain between her bracelets. Instead of leaving her hands free for her to serve herself, he reattached the iron bracelets behind her back, causing her pretty breasts to jut out in a pleasing way.

Lightly, he twisted and pulled on each nipple until it stood stiffened to attention. Beautiful!

"I thought I was going to eat?" she asked, desperation in her voice.
"You are, but I'm going to feed you, cunt girl." He went to the counter and returned with a plate of steak and fried potatoes. He cut a small piece of the meat and lifted it to her mouth. Emily took the meat from the fork. She ate it quickly, as if he were going to take it away. Then her lips parted, like a little bird's, waiting for more. Silently the master fed his slave, pausing periodically to hold a cup of cold water to her lips. The grease from the meat coated her lips, as she was unable to wipe her own mouth.

Long hair wild around her face, bare round breasts jutting, with the heavy iron collar around her throat, tethered by a leash to the chair, her mouth slick with grease, she was like some wild creature. Mark stopped feeding her just to stare at this wanton wild beauty before him. And she belonged to him!

With great self-control he resisted the impulse to throw her down and fuck her there on the kitchen floor. There would be time, plenty of time, he told himself.

When she had had enough, he brought out a large brandy snifter and poured some fine port into the glass. He held it to the light, gently swirling the burgundy-colored liquid. "This is my favorite. Here, have some." Mark held the crystal goblet to her lips and Emily sipped. Then Mark took a long swallow.

He gave Emily several more mouthfuls.

"I'm very pleased with you, Emily. You've made a lot of progress in just one day. You have potential to become a worthy slave. Of course, I know you aren't here of your own free will. I'm not stupid enough to think you are obeying for any reason other than you have no choice in the matter. Still, you are behaving well, even as a prisoner.
"Stand up," he commanded. "I want to see your body."

Emily stood, somewhat awkwardly, her hands still secured behind her back. Mark remained seated at the table, his snifter in hand, assessing her with a sweeping coolness. Gone was the nervous, over-eager boy he had been in the car when pretending to be her driver. Mark was in control now—in his element. He was born to control this woman. To use her, to torture her, to adore her.

"I wonder," he said, musing to himself, "how you would look with that pretty little pussy shaved bare." Mark noticed with amusement the color was back in Emily's face and neck.

She had been naked with him most of these past two days.

She had been fucked by him, and beaten by him, yet this simple remark about shaving her pussy somehow made her blush anew.

Mark felt his own enthusiasm for the task rising. "Come on," he said. "I'll give you a bath." As he pulled her along to the bathroom he said eagerly, "I loved that bath scene in
Lovers' Quarrel
. You were so hot!" Mark gestured his hand over the toilet lid, and Emily sat down on it, shivering slightly on the cold plastic.

Mark turned on the water in the tub. He got out some bath oil from under the sink and poured several capfuls into the steaming water. Turning back to his naked slave girl, Mark removed the heavy collar from around her neck. He unlocked her wrists and ankles, this time removing the chains altogether. He left the small iron bracelets in place.

"Climb in, Emily." She did as she was told, gingerly lowering herself into the hot, scented water. Mark knelt
beside the tub. First he washed her long dark hair, directing her to lean her head far back. He toweled it off with a hand towel and twisted the towel around her head.

Taking a large soft washcloth, he washed the naked woman from head to toe. He paused at her breasts, rubbing the soapy cloth in smaller and smaller concentric circles toward her nipples. Emily leaned back her head and closed her eyes. She seemed to be relaxing at last. The tension that had held her body rigid seemed to be draining from her.

Perhaps she just didn't have the energy, the strength of will to resist him any longer. Or perhaps, just perhaps, she was coming to trust him the slightest bit.

Mark moved the cloth down to her smooth firm belly, and on down to the pubic hair he planned to remove. He rubbed the little curls until they were frothy with soap. "Spread your legs," he ordered. When Emily didn't instantly comply he said, "Do I have to whip you first, or will you do as I say?"

She obeyed, spreading her slender thighs. Her skin was pink and shiny with bath oil. Mark smiled as he soaped her inner thighs, moving slowly but inexorably toward her spread pussy. Emily's eyes opened and she started to close her legs.

"Uh-uh, little slut. Don't you dare close yourself to me.

That's the same as saying 'no'—you're saying it with your body, with your actions." Sighing ever so slightly, Emily let her knees fall open again, revealing her sweet little pussy to him once again.

Mark smiled and again began the teasing swirl toward her sex. When the cloth reached her most private spot, he rubbed it gently in large, lazy circles. Emily couldn't repress the little
sigh, this time of pleasure, that escaped her lips. Her head fell back as her eyelids fluttered closed. Mark continued his washcloth play, but also let his fingers come into contact with her tender flesh. She felt so soft! Placing one hand on her breast, which was just peeking above the water, Mark felt with the fingers of his other hand for her hot, wet opening. He found it, pressing with his thumb deep into her cunt. Emily lay very still, her eyes shut, but at least she didn't try to close her legs. Mark slid his thumb in and out of her pussy, and up onto her clit, which was slick with bath oil. Emily moaned as her body shuddered, though with pleasure or revulsion he couldn't be absolutely sure.

Mark realized he was totally distracted by her reactions. He had almost forgotten about why he had put her in the bath in the first place—to shave that little pussy bare. Pulling his hands away from her sex and breast, Mark sat back. Emily remained still, her eyes tightly shut, but Mark thought he detected the slightest sigh, the slightest sag in her limbs that indicated she didn't want him to stop what he was doing.

"Let's start with your legs, slave girl. And don't worry, I've done this before."

Yes, he had done this before. He had had slave girls before, but never anyone that mattered. They had been toys, something to pass the time. Sometimes he chose to shave them; sometimes he didn't. It wasn't that he liked a little girl look—in fact, that didn't come into play for him. He liked a grown woman with a mature, sexy body. In shaving a woman's sex, it was the nakedness he sought. The vulnerability of being completely bare and open to him. It was
a state of mind as much as anything. A submissive, open state of mind he had found a slave could come to more easily if she were shaved bare.

Mark took a fresh razor from the counter and the bottle of baby oil. He lifted Emily's leg up over the side of the tub and squirted a generous amount of oil onto her skin. Emily looked nervous. "Don't worry, I won't cut you." He smiled a mocking smile as he said this, fingering the scratches on his cheek.

With long even strokes, Mark expertly stripped away any stubble from the past two days. He directed Emily to turn around so he had access to the other leg.

"Now underarms," he said.

"Please, could I do that? I'm very sensitive—"

"No. I'll do it. I'll always do it. It gives me pleasure to groom you. You are my possession to do with as I please. The sooner you understand that, the easier things will go for you."

Emily sighed, but seemed to accept it was useless to argue. She lifted one smoothly muscled arm and lay still.

Using a cream-based soap, Mark prepared Emily's skin and with a few strokes her skin was soft and bare.

"There," Mark said. "Now for your little patch. I'll shave you everyday. We could do wax, but I like the idea of the blade against your cunt." Mark's eyes glazed slightly as he said this. He was imagining Emily naked, chained against a wall, shaven bare, while he held a long silver knife blade held against her trembling body...

"Please, sir, I'm getting cold." Emily snapped him out of his reverie. Mark flicked on the little heater built into the wall.
He turned on the tap and a steaming gush of water splashed into the tub.

"There, that should warm you up. This won't take long.

You keep your pussy nicely trimmed, so I don't have to do any clipping first." Who did she keep herself trimmed for? The question grated on his mind and he felt a hot rush of jealousy rising unbidden. But that was ridiculous—he owned her now.