A Rebel Captive (9 page)

She gasped as he came to rest again, fully sheathed inside her.  He dipped his head to catch her lips and pushed his tongue into her mouth.  Picking up the pace, Cole started to thrust in and out of her, his tongue matching the motions of his cock.  One of his hands grabbed a fist full of her hair, pulling her face closer to his, deepening his kiss until he was on the verge of bruising her lips.  His other hand went under one of her knees, pulling it up closer to her chest.  The adjustment allowed him to pump deeper into her and on the next thrust he bumped against her cervix.  She moaned against his lips with a mix of immense desire and pain.

The sound made his control slip and he started pumping into her faster, harder.  She quivered against him, as his groin pressed her clit every time he bottomed out.  He pulled away from her lips and watched her face as he quickened his pace.  Her eyes were shut tight, but her face contorted in pleasure.  His cock grew impossibly hard as he watched her tongue dart out, licking her lips. 

“No, no, no,” she cried, but this time, she was talking to herself. 

“I’m not going to stop until I feel you cum on my cock.” He warned her and he moved one of his hands, pressing his fingers against her clit. 

She screamed and struggled against the cloth trapping her wrists.  He didn’t try to stop her; Cole could sense these struggles were different.  Her hands came free and she reached for him, pulling him down to her rather than pushing him away.  Her touch broke any restraint he had left and he pounded into her while pinching her clit.

She screamed again and he felt her walls contracting around him.  Her muscles gripping him drove Cole crazy and after a few more strokes he was spurting his seed into her with a loud guttural moan.  His orgasm shook him to the core and he collapsed on her, completely spent. 

“Oh, fuck,” he panted against her. 

Cole couldn’t wait to do that again.  She was soft and tender, still wrapped up in the aftermath of her orgasm, but after her breathing slowed and she came down from the pleasure she started to stiffen in disgust and humiliation.  He rolled off of her, but pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her. 

“How… how could you,” she said softly. 

He wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or herself.  She tried to pull away from him, but he locked his arms around her, keeping her pressed up against him.

“Shhhh, Livie.” He stroked her hair and held her tight against him, making her calm herself while still touching him.

“I’m not on anything… no protection.” She was near tears and desperately wanted to pull away, but his hold wouldn’t allow it.

“Well, that’s the point,” he snapped, disappointed by her reaction.  “We take slaves to show our dominance over the enemy, what better way than to fuck and impregnate their women.”

She started to cry.  He eased his hold on her, but didn’t entirely let her go.  He wasn’t sure why he was so upset by her response, why he said such terrible things, it made him feel foolish.  Did he really expect she’d affectionately curl up in his arms and fall asleep?  Cole knew he shouldn’t have been so cruel to her, that his words were malicious, but in the moment he wanted to hurt her.  Neither of them slept well.

Olivia woke up exhausted.  She was naked and pressed against Cole, her arm across his chest.  Her lips curled and she tried to pull away from him.  He was already awake, already annoyed.  He yanked her back against him, not letting her get away. 

“No,” he barked. 

Something in Olivia broke and she fought against him, desperate to get away. 

“Let me go, you fucking bastard,” she screamed and tried to kick at him.

He grabbed her and twisted her around him.  They struggled for a few moments before he managed to subdue her, holding her by the arms.  He ended up sitting up with her straddling him.  The blankets fell in a pile around them.  Caught up in her anger, Olivia didn’t seem to notice her nakedness.

“I know you’re confused and upset, but that doesn’t mean you can act like a little brat,” he hissed at her, letting go of her arms.

She snarled and her hand snapped back, before she could get control of her anger she slapped him across the face.  He was stunned for a second before his lips twitched into a nasty smirk. 

“You want to hit me?  Go ahead, but you better make use of it, you won’t get this chance again. My. Little. Pet.”

His last words made her see red and she started striking him.  He deflected all of her attempts to slap him in the face again, but allowed her to work out her aggression.  She thrashed against him, pounding his chest, shoulders, and arms.  Every now and then, he’d grunt in pain, but let her continue hitting him.  She didn’t realize how her naked body rocked against his, her breasts bouncing and brushing against his chest.  He noticed and hardened. 

Her body jerked as she hit him again and her snatch brushed against his erection.  She stilled.  His smile deepened. Olivia tried to move away, but he grabbed her hips and thrust her down on his cock.  He entered her rough and hard, ramming all the way into her in a single quick thrust.  She cried out in pain and surprise.  She struggled, but he used her movements against her.  Every time she tried to pull away from him, off of him, he thrust her back down on his raging erection.  She pushed against his shoulders trying to dislodge him, but his hold was too strong.  He let out guttural, virile, sounds as he moved her up and down his shaft.  She grew sopping wet as she struggled and he forced her to ride him.

As soon as she stopped trying to get away, realizing the futility of her actions, he flipped them.  He had her on her back, holding her wrists down on either side of her head.  She thrashed underneath him, her legs kicking out around his hips, but he ignored her movements and continued to thrust into her.  Cole pulled all the way out of her, taking satisfaction and pleasure in burying himself completely.  Her struggling slowed, her arousal grew.  His cock seemed to drive out her anger and replace it with mind numbing pleasure. 

“That’s right, Olivia,” he growled. “You’re mine.”

She tried to tell him off, but he covered her lips with his and took hold of her hips again, lifting them so he could slide deeper into her.  The further intrusion caused her to moan out loud. 

“This pussy is mine.” He bit her lip, hard.  “I’ll fuck it when and how I want.”  

She squirmed under him as she felt a familiar tightness start to build. 

“Say it, Olivia.” 

She shook her head and put her hands on his shoulders, not sure if she wanted to push him away or pull him closer.  He slowed his thrusts, letting her feel every inch of him moving in and out of her as he kept her orgasm at bay.  She startled herself by mewing in protest.  The soft cry almost broke his restraint. 

“I’m in control of you and your body, so, you need to fucking say it.” He strained against his own desire. 

Her fingers dug into his skin as pleasure radiated through her body, but it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough.  She needed more, just a little more.  His hand went to her throat as a gentle warning. 

“I’m yours,” she said in response, wanting his hand away from her windpipe and fast.  He held her there and pumped into her in sharp little thrusts that made her cry out softly with each stroke. 

“That’s not what I said.” Cole tightened his hold around her throat just slightly.  He gritted his teeth, his control of his own release slipping.  Her little sounds were driving him nuts.

“This pussy is yours.” She was rewarded with quick, powerful, thrusts that sent ripples of pleasure down her spine.

“Finish it,” he demanded.

She groaned, torn between wanting to cum and wanting to defy him. 

“Olivia.” His voice was full of threat.

“You’ll fuck it when and how you want,” she whispered in defeat. 

He growled, releasing her throat and covering her lips in a hard kiss.  Her words sparked something in them both and their coupling became violent.  His fingers dug into her hips, bruising them as he pounded into her.  Her fingers racked down his shoulders, scratching them.  They came together, their cries of pleasure mingling as their orgasms rocked through them. 

Cole rolled them over, making sure to keep his cock still deep inside her.  Olivia was lying on top of him.  He held her long after he felt her last spasms of orgasm, long after her heart stopped pounding violently.  She rested her head against his chest, refusing to look at him.  He gave her time to collect herself.

“Go get cleaned up and I’ll get you some clothes.” 

She moved off of him, wincing as the movement caused him to slide out of her.  Without a word, without protest, she went to the bathroom and did what she was told.  He called the kitchen and had breakfast brought up.  Dressing quickly, Cole paused a moment to run a finger over the scratches on his shoulder and chuckled.  By the time Olivia was out of the shower, dried off, and dressed Cole had finished his breakfast.  She stepped out of the bathroom and gingerly walked to the living room.  The twenty minutes in the hot shower, scrubbing away any trace of him, had also helped with her growing soreness, but she could feel it creeping back into her body, a deeper reminder of what they’d done.  She went to sit down across from him at the table, but he stopped her.

“No.  If you want breakfast you’ll have to eat it sitting here.” He patted his knee.

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.  “Seriously?”

He blinked, surprised by her bold response.  He was worried she’d come out of the bedroom meek and will-less, obviously that wasn’t the case.  His Livie was a much stronger woman than that.

“Olivia, don’t forget your place.  The next time you don’t address me properly there will be repercussions.”

“I’m sorry.  I meant to say I’d rather starve, my lord.” He matched her glare, the two of them in a silent battle of wills.

“Let me rephrase that.  You will eat breakfast on my lap or you’ll stay inside the rest of the day, with me.” He saw how the last part caused her to lose her defiant glare and that angered him, but he kept it buried, not wanting her to see the pain of her rejection.

She sighed and walked over to him, sitting at the very edge of his knee.  She tried to touch as little of him as possible, but he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her up against him so she rested squarely in his lap, her butt pressing against his groin.  She ate carefully, incredibly aware of how his body reacted to her every movement.  She reached for the sugar, accidently rubbing her rear into his lap and felt his cock jump in his pants.  She decided her coffee was fine black. 

He ignored her for the most part.  The TV was on and set to a local news station.  Every now and then, he’d yell at the newscaster for his biases.  He held a report in one hand, reviewing it, and absently stroked her arm with the other.  When he reached for his own cup of coffee he pressed his upper body against hers, making her lean forward slightly.  The movement made her body thrum with desire. 

“I’m done,” she yelped, dropping her spoon before quickly adding, “my lord.”

He looked up from his papers, eyebrow raised at the half eaten bowl of oatmeal, but he shrugged and allowed her to scamper off his lap.  He put his papers on the desk and took her hand.  She didn’t pull away, but kept as much between them as possible.  They walked in silence and when they entered the courtyard she pulled away from him, heading for the garden.  He yanked her back, her body slammed against his.  She looked up at him.  He was watching her face, almost in question.  She wasn’t sure what he wanted, but she grew increasingly uncomfortable under his gaze. 

“How are you going to thank me?” he asked her flatly.  She stood still, staring at him, but didn’t respond. 

“Get on your knees,” he ordered and he looked around them as if weighing her options.  “Your knees, Olivia,” he growled.

She slowly sank down in front of him.  She tried to ignore the other people in the courtyard, but could feel them all staring at her and the spectacle she made.  She waited for his next order. 

“Kiss my boots.” Her eyes narrowed and at first he thought she would defy him.    

She took an agonizing amount of time to bend over as if trying to convince herself to do it.  She quickly pecked his boot and sat back up.  He grunted his approval and walked away from her, leaving Olivia on her knees.

He was already late for his first meeting of the day, but every fiber of his being wanted to run back to her, lift her up over his shoulder, and take her right back to bed.  Having her sit in his lap had been an excruciating torture.  Even though he’d just bedded her, his cock sprang to attention as soon as she touched him.  He felt like a teenage boy, desperate to relieve the ache she caused him.  Then, there was the way she looked up at him, on her knees in the courtyard.  He debated whether to be even later and go jerk off in the bathroom or suck it up for the rest of the day.

Either way, he decided he was going to make her pay for the discomfort she caused him.

.     .     .

Olivia continued to kneel on the ground, stunned by his abrupt retreat.  She stood up and went straight to the garden, eyes pointed to the ground, refusing to look around her. 
I need to get out of here
, she thought, building up her determination.  If she stayed she’d continue to get taken and humiliated.  What would her father say?  Would he reject her if she ended up pregnant?  If she bore the enemy’s child?  She had to find a way out.  Olivia looked to the sun, trying to gauge the time, how much longer until the next guard change?

“Oh, Olivia,” called Mrs. Wellings.  She was waving to her and marching across the yard, her extremely large bosoms flopping like wings with the effort.  “There you are dear, I was wondering when you’d get here.  I need to ask a favor.” 

Olivia wasn’t in a very generous mood, but let the woman talk.

“My grandbaby is here, but I have an emergency in the kitchen.  Will you watch him for a few hours?” 

Olivia looked past the woman and saw a young boy, kicking stones a few yards away from them. 

“Aren’t you worried that I would grab him and threaten to hurt him in exchange for letting me go?” Olivia spat at the woman.

Mrs. Wellings stared at her a moment.  “No, that thought never occurred to me.  You’re too kind and level headed to take your fears out on an innocent child.”

Olivia instantly felt the woman’s words like a slap to the face.  She nodded, ashamed by her outburst. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’d be happy to watch him.” 

Mrs. Wellings smiled and went to retrieve the small boy, bringing him over. “Thomas, this is Olivia, you’re going to help her in the garden for a while, okay?”

He nodded and extended his hand to Olivia.  Her heart melted and she was absolutely mortified that she threatened to harm the little boy.  She took his hand and walked into the garden.  Spotting the guard running to his post, late again, she knew she missed her opportunity. 

Thomas was a sweet, excited, boy.  He laughed and smiled as he plucked strawberries, popping a few in his mouth.  Olivia laughed with him as she handed him an extra-large berry, his eyes grew big at the prize. 

The boy spent most of his time exploring the garden, looking under plants, asking questions, chasing a moth down a row of tomato plants.  Olivia kept an eye on him, letting him roam as she worked.  

“Eeeeeeekkkkkkkk, Olivia!”  Thomas cried and she bolted from her spot, running to him. 

He was pointing and shrieking at a large centipede, crawling along the ground.  She scooped up the insect, showing the boy there was no danger, and a plan of escape formed in her mind at the same time. 

“Here, I’ll put him under this bucket so he can’t get you.” She put the centipede under a compost bucket, hoping it would still be the following morning. 

After a few hours, she looked up and saw Cole smiling at her, watching her work alongside the boy.  Mrs. Wellings came over to fetch Thomas, thanking Olivia for her help and taking the boy’s hand.  They walked off and she could hear him telling the old woman about his day in the garden.  She smiled, watching the two of them leave, but then she looked over at Cole.  His eyes were dark and stormy.  He crooked his finger, beckoning her to his side.

He stared at her heatedly as she approached him.  Without a word, he grabbed her hand and walked back into the fort, towards his rooms.  The silence between them made Olivia increasingly uneasy, but she wasn’t about to start up a conversation on her own.  When they got to his room he shut the door and went to his desk. 

“Go get changed,” he said sitting down, and typing an email. 

Olivia went into the bedroom and saw a navy blue dress and velvet blue pumps.  The dress fit her well, accenting her curves and floated gracefully around her knees as she walked.  The shoes were comfortable for heels and made her legs look long and thin.  It occurred to her then that he planned for her to wear the dress that morning, as she already wore a navy blue bra and matching panties.  Fully dressed, she couldn’t help twirling once and watching in the full-length mirror as the skirt of her dress swirled up like she was a ballroom dancer.  As she came to a stop, she looked at the doorway and blushed.  Cole was there smirking, he’d caught her little show. 

“Ready?” he asked in a rough voice. 

She nodded.  He escorted her out of the room and to a new part of the fort.  Cole stroked her back as they walked.  The light touch was enough to cause her entire body to prickle with awareness.  The pair walked out onto a veranda overlooking the west lawn.  The sun was just beginning to set.  Torches along the wall bathed the area in a warm glow.  A table was set up for them, dinner already there.  He walked over and pulled out a chair.

“Do I have to sit in your lap again, my lord?” She didn’t mean for her words to sound so catty, but she couldn’t stop herself.  He just smiled and gestured for her to sit down, she did.

He pushed in her chair while leaning down and whispering in her ear. “Not this moment, but probably.” 

She flushed, but grabbed her dinner napkin, meticulously unfolding it and putting it across her lap, pretending his words had no effect on her.  He sat down across from her and uncorked a bottle of champagne.  She sat up straighter, excited to have a glass. 

“How was your day with little Thomas?” he asked, filling her glass.

“Fine,” she said, reaching for it.

He put his hand on top of her glass, stopping her from taking it.  She tried to keep from pouting, but wasn’t sure how successful she was.

“Fine?  That’s all I get from you?” he tsked.

“It was nice,” she added, staring at the glass. 

She only ever had one sip of champagne, from her father’s glass when she was very young and they were at a senatorial banquet.  She wanted that glass now. 

“He’s a sweet boy.  We picked strawberries and he chased after insects.”

Cole lifted his hand, allowing her to take the glass.  She didn’t hesitate, picked it up, and inhaled the fragrant scent. 

“Mrs. Wellings has fifteen grandchildren, you know,” he told her as she took a sip. 

She was smiling as the bubbles tickled her tongue. 

“Fifteen?!” she responded in horror.

“Well, she’s got eight children.” 

“That explains those huge breasts.” Olivia blushed as soon as the words left her mouth. 

Her newly formed plan of escape was making her tongue bold, but her words still embarrassed her.

He laughed out loud.  “No, I’m afraid she’s always been… heavy chested,” he said not sure what had gotten into her, but he liked it.  “Do you like the champagne?” he asked as he started to eat dinner.

“Yes, where do you get it?  I’ve never seen champagne outside of houses of Lords.  How do you people manage to come by it?” 

He told her about his uncle’s vineyard, about the wealth this district built up while his father was lord, and how he hoped to be as great a leader as his father.  The champagne freed her tongue and she asked him more questions, about his father, about his life, about him.  She started to tell him about the greedy lord her father worked with before the rebellion, but stopped mid-sentence.

“I suppose you’d rather not hear about my father…” She trailed off.

“Regardless of his political ambitions, he’s still your father and you’re free to talk about him.” He wanted her to know how much he meant it. 

He wanted her to tell him everything.  A solider came out and cleared their dinner plates. 

“Dessert, sir?” the man asked.

Cole looked at Olivia’s hopeful face and nodded.  “Yes, I think so.”

“Very good, sir.  Mr. Thurgood is waiting to speak with you.”

Cole motioned to bring the man in and turned to Olivia.  “Stand up,” he ordered and she hesitated, but did as she was told.  “Sit.” He pushed back his chair and motioned to his lap.

“But…” She was almost hurt by his demand. 

They were having such a nice time together or so she thought she thought.  Why did he have to ruin it by humiliating her?

“You can either sit here or on the ground, but you’d have to take off that dress.  You wouldn’t want to get it dirty, down there, on your knees.” His voice lost the warmth it had before.

She took in a big inhale of air and slowly let it out before stiffly walking over and sitting down on his lap.  His arms went around her, a hand resting on her upper thigh.  She sat upright and ridged, keeping as much of her body away from his as possible.  The solider returned, carrying plates of fruit tarts with fresh whipped cream and escorting a man in a sharp business suit.  Cole motioned for the man to sit in Olivia’s chair. 

“Good to see you, Thurgood.  Please, join me for dessert.” 

The solider placed the plates on the table and left.  Thurgood thanked Cole for the offer and sat down.  They got to talking, completely ignoring Olivia.  She wanted to glower at the man for stealing her chair and dessert, but stared at the table cloth instead.  Olivia was almost convinced Cole forgot about her until he started to gently rub her thigh.  She tried to move away from his touch, but there was nowhere to go and her squirming was causing her to rub against his lap.  She started to wish she picked the floor, nearly naked or not.

Thurgood was talking about issuing supplies and strategic drop offs for troops in the field.  The two of them seemed to be talking in code and remained vague through the entire discussion.  Not that Olivia could have done anything with the information if they were to talk specifics anyway so she grew irritated and bored with their conversation.  She was more concerned about the fruit tarts in front of her.  She knew it was childish and probably misplaced anger, but she watched Cole take small bites from his and Thurgood power through, nearly finishing his.  Thomas and she worked hard collecting the fruit in those pastries and she grew increasingly huffy as the men ate them, although it was a silent huffy.        

Cole shifted her slightly in his lap so he could reach into his pants pocket and pull out a tiny thumb drive.  He leaned over, pressing his body against Olivia, as he passed it to Thurgood.  She pictured him pressing her down against the table, lifting up her dress, pulling down her panties, and driving into her.  She shook her head, trying to get the image out, not sure how it got there in the first place. 

When he leaned back, he pulled her back with him, keeping her pressed to him.  One arm wrapped around her waist, holding her in place.  Cole talked to his guest while forking a piece of tart and offered it to Olivia.  She shook her head, but his free hand squeezed her thigh in gentle warning.  Begrudgingly, she opened her mouth, allowing him to feed her. 

It was delicious; the crust was buttery and delicate while the fruit was just the right mix of tangy and sweet.  Cole handed her a glass of champagne while discussing time frames for delivery with Thurgood.  She took a sip, realizing how well the drink paired with the tart and didn’t resist when he offered another bite.  His hand started rubbing her thigh again, moving across rather than up and down, and his fingers nearly brushed the edge of her panties.

The next bite left behind a spot of whipped cream on the side of her mouth and Cole quickly took advantage of it, wiping it away and offering her his finger to lick clean.  She sneered at it, but felt his hand squeeze her thigh again and she darted out her tongue, licking it away. 
I definitely should’ve picked the floor,
she thought as he dipped his finger in the whipped cream still on the plate and brought it back to her.  He pressed his finger to her lips, but instead of licking she bit down, hard. 

Jerking his hand away, Cole continued his conversation without missing a beat, like she did nothing wrong, but he did retaliate.  His hand forcefully pushed her legs apart and cupped her sex.  She would’ve tried to get away, but his other hand went to her neck, gripping her in a warning.  To Thurgood, the scene would’ve looked tender, like he was gently stroking her hair so she wasn’t surprised the man went on talking without any sort of reaction to the conquest happening before him.  He barely seemed to notice her at all. 

Cole’s fingers began to gently stroke her.  Even through her dress and panties, the feeling of his fingers brushing up and down her folds caused her to shudder.  Her hands went to his arm and she tried to pull him away.  He tightened his grip on her neck and she instantly stopped. 

“Hands on the table, my naughty little pet,” he whispered into her ear, taking the opportunity to nuzzle her hair.  “Yes, that sounds about right, Thurgood.  What do you need from me?” he said, returning his attention to his guest.