Enslaved (11 page)

He heard a soft moan in the baby monitor and looked up at the screen. Poor baby, with her mouth taped shut, curled up like a kitten in her cage. Sam stood and adjusted his still-erect cock in his jeans. Time to take care of his slave girl.

~*~

Rae crawled gratefully out of the confining space and knelt back on her haunches, staring up at her captor. He had dressed in a pale gray T-shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and muscled biceps. Golden stubble etched his cheeks and jaw. His jeans hung loose and low on his hips. She could just see the thin line of fine hair that ran from his navel, disappearing beneath his jeans, drawing her eye to the bulge at his crotch. In spite of herself and the situation, she couldn’t deny the man was seriously sexy.

He crouched in front of her and stroked her cheek. “If I take off the tape, are you going to be a good girl and follow the rules?”

Rae nodded. She wished he’d let her take the gag off herself but just getting it off was good enough. She tensed as he pulled at a corner of the sticky tape. He pulled slowly, edging his fingers beneath it as he tugged. It hurt a little, but at least he hadn’t yanked it. The skin beneath felt tender and itchy, but otherwise no worse for wear.

“Better?” Sam asked.

“Yes, thank you…Sir.”

Sam nodded, clearly pleased with her response and Rae felt a curious kind of pride—she’d pleased him. That was good.

“Time for training. You need to pee?”

“Yes, please.” She’d felt the urge while in the cage but hadn’t wanted to use the urinal, especially now that she knew he might be watching her. He let her use the bathroom without even following her inside. When she was done, she stepped back into the room, at once frightened and curious as to what he had in mind.

She watched as he brought a full-length mirror from a corner of the room. He gestured with his chin toward the bed. “Lie down with your head just below the pillows.” Rae obeyed while Sam placed the mirror on the floor at the end of the bed, angling it so she could see herself.

Pushing the pillows aside, he climbed onto the bed behind her, cradling her between his legs. She could see them both now in the mirror, Sam’s long, jean-clad legs on either side of her naked body, his firm, muscular chest warm against her back through the thin cotton of his T-shirt. They could have been lovers.

But they weren’t. Rae tensed, holding herself stiff against Sam’s body. She was his prisoner, held here against her will.
No, stop it. You agreed to the terms. Don’t make it harder on yourself than it has to be. Remember the rules. Follow the rules…

“As a part of your training today,” Sam broke into her thoughts, “we’ll test your modesty.” He lifted her as he spoke and scooted them both down toward the bottom of the bed. “Pull your legs up, feet flat, knees wide. I want to take a good look at your bare cunt.”

Rae felt the heat rushing to her face. Whatever she’d been expecting, it hadn’t been this. She had never let a man linger too long down there. For all her confidence with her figure and shape, this was one area where she was not comfortable at all. She realized she’d rather be placed in the corner again in those god-awful shoes than have to spread her legs for Sam’s unwelcome inspection.

Though she hadn’t thought of it in ages, all at once Rae flashed back to her freshman year of high school when she’d been out on her first (and only) date with Danny Hunter, a senior who all the girls were after. She didn’t know him well at all, but had been deeply flattered when he’d asked her out. Certain her parents would never let her date a senior, she’d lied, telling them she was going to the movies with her friend, Jean. She’d expected Danny to take her out for pizza or maybe to a party, but instead he’d just driven her to the parking lot of a nearby university and suggested they move from the front to the back of his father’s Cadillac, where he produced a small cooler filled with cans of beer.

They sat in the dark, drinking beer and talking about their school’s sports teams and Danny’s choice of college the upcoming year. Not used to drinking, she’d gotten plenty drunk, plenty fast. She’d been both excited and very nervous when Danny had started making out with her. After all, he was super hot, even if he was moving faster than she was used to with the boys her own age.

His kisses were sloppy but his hands were smooth and fast, unbuttoning her blouse, slipping into her bra, easing the zipper down her jeans. He kept telling her she was so hot, and he wanted her so much. She kept thinking what a great story this would make over lunch on Monday with her girlfriends. They’d be so jealous that Danny Hunter had taken her out! Danny Hunter thought she was hot!

Somehow, he’d managed to get her jeans and panties down when all at once he turned on the ceiling light and leaned down, his face very close to her exposed pussy. Suddenly sober, Rae had tried to slam her legs together, deeply embarrassed at his scrutiny. But Danny had placed his hands on her thighs, forcing them apart.

“Let me look,” he’d insisted, his voice slurred with liquor. “I like to see a girl’s twat up close and personal. I can tell if she’s a virgin or a slut. How ‘bout you, babe? You a virgin or a slut? Let me see.” He laughed, the sound derisive and insulting in her ears.

She had squirmed away from him, furious and deeply humiliated. “Take me home,” she’d insisted, forgetting the movie she was supposedly at wouldn’t be over for at least an hour.

He’d acted surprised, and then angry. “I should have known better than to take out a
kid
,” he’d snarled, but he’d taken her home, making his tires squeal as he pulled away from the curb.

If only she could insist that Sam take her home. But she wasn’t fourteen, she reminded herself. She could do this. She would pass his fucking modesty test, whatever it was. Each minute she got through was one less minute she had to go through, one minute closer to freedom.

“Open your legs,” Sam instructed her. “Let me see what’s mine.” She looked at him in the mirror. He was no longer smiling and his eyes held a curious, dangerous spark. Rae’s heart skipped a beat but she didn’t dare disobey him. Slowly, she let her legs fall open, keeping her eyes on his face. He placed a large hand on either thigh, holding her open in front of the mirror.

“Don’t look at me,” he instructed. “Look at your cunt. Tell me what you see.”

“What?” Rae felt flustered, unsure of what he was saying.

“Look at your cunt, Rae. Examine it in the mirror. Describe it to me.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean,” she said helplessly, her face beet red.

She tensed, afraid he was going to yell at her, threaten her in some way, but when he spoke, his voice was calm, even patient. “It’s a simple task, Rae. I want you to really take a look at your pussy. Tell me what you see. Describe the folds, the color and the shape. Go on. It’s not a trick. I really want to know what you see.”

She had never, she realized with some surprise, ever really looked at herself down there. Why would she? And why was he making her now? She glanced again at his face and saw the warning there. She swallowed and let her eyes move down toward her splayed sex. It looked strange, so naked without the obscuring cover of pubic curls.

Men seemed to be fascinated with pussies, but at the same time, they were so insulting when they wanted to be. They loved to fuck, sure, but did they regard a woman’s sex as beautiful?
Filthy cunt
,
dirty twat
,
slit, gash, hole
, the joke about the blind man at the fish market saying, “good morning, ladies,”—these images and words were as much a part of the American lexicon as home sweet home and apple pie. Women had received mixed messages about their sex all their lives. What did he want from her?

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She could do this. She was a grown woman, for god’s sake. She was proud of her body. Wasn’t she?

She looked down, really seeing her pussy, possibly for the first time in her life. “I see…” she hesitated, still not entirely sure what he wanted. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I see folds of flesh, the outer ones are pink, the inner ones are darker, sort of purple, I guess.”

Was this what he wanted? He said nothing but gave her a slight nod of encouragement.

She continued, almost warming to the task. It really wasn’t ugly. It was even kind of pretty, in an abstract sort of way. “Um, it looks sort of like a tiger lily, when they aren’t open yet before the sun comes up, you know?” She glanced at him, wondering if this was what he wanted.

He nodded again, a whisper of a smile moving over his mouth. “Go on,” he urged softly. He reached for her, gently spreading the outer labia. He used one finger to pull back the hood at her center, revealing the tip of her clit, which peeped out like a tiny flower bulb ready to bloom.

“Go on,” he said again.

Rae stared down at her clit, which swelled before her eyes as Sam moved his finger with a feathery touch over it and around it. “Gosh,” she said, startled. “I’ve never seen that before. I didn’t realize it got big like that when I was…um…aroused.”

Sam nodded again. He took her right hand and lifted it to his lips, surprising her by licking her fingers. He then took her wrist, guiding her hand toward her spread pussy.

“Make yourself come for me. Show me how it’s done.”

Rae swallowed again, her embarrassment resurfacing at the thought of touching herself in front of someone, especially in front of this man, who held her against her will in his dungeon.

And yet, her pussy was throbbing, the folds swollen and moist, her clit pulsing at its center. This was certainly better than a beating, wasn’t it? He was asking her to come—what was the big deal? She masturbated all the time when she was alone. She would just close her eyes and—

“Eyes open,” Sam snapped. “I want you to watch what you’re doing. I want you to pay attention to your body. And when you’re about to come, I want you to ask me for permission. Understand?”

She stared in the mirror into his face and then down at her pussy. She had no choice. She was his prisoner, this was beyond her control.

Slowly she reached for her sex with her wet fingers and began to rub in a circular motion around her hooded clit. She dipped her fingers into her pussy, watching as her fingers disappeared and then reemerged, shiny and wet. Again she rubbed herself, her eyes on her sex.

It was harder than she’d expected to keep her eyes open. She was used to closing them and losing herself in a fantasy, usually involving Johnny Depp or Neal Patrick Harris. Instead she forced herself to focus, watching as the folds swelled and darkened. She dared a quick glance at Sam’s face, half fearing to see derision or that insolent, knowing smile on his face, but he was focused as intently as she on her sex, his lips lightly parted, his eyes burning with intensity.

She refocused on her bare cunt, bringing her left hand up and slipping a finger inside herself as she continued to rub and swirl the fingers of her right hand over and around her clit. She began to pant, and it took every bit of willpower to keep her eyes from sliding closed of their own accord.

She felt the melting heat of an orgasm roiling just below the surface and remembered just in time to beg, “Please, may I come?”

She struggled against the rising tide of her impending orgasm as she strained for his answer, the fingers of her right hand moving wildly over her sex, her left second and third fingers sliding wetly in and out like pistons.

“Yes.”

She let the tide sweep her away.

He’d held her in the dungeon for five days now, waking her each morning for her shower and grooming, and then subjecting her to a series of erotic torture and training sessions.

She no longer hesitated in addressing him as Sir, and the constant resistance had ebbed away to almost nothing. Sam had abandoned the idea of going into the city to work while she was in his dungeon—he didn’t want to leave her alone down there. Fortunately, he had a full computer lab in his home office. The only inconvenience was in meeting new clients, but he didn’t have anything going at the moment anyway—the
Ichi
job had absorbed all his time and attention the past few months.

He’d had to consult with Rae on two occasions regarding some financial details in the contract. How strange that had been—Rae naked and imprisoned in his dungeon, leaning over the document and explaining points he needed to understand.

It was early, before seven, though Sam had already been up nearly two hours. He slept very lightly with Rae in the house, waking several times a night to make sure she was okay, and taking a long time to fall back asleep, images of what they’d done that day swirling through his brain and hardening his cock.

Turning away from the computer, he looked at the closed-circuit TV screen. The view was set on camera two—her bed. She looked like a captured angel curled on her side, her hands tucked beneath her cheek, lit by the soft glow of the nightlight. Her sheet had fallen to just below her breasts. He could see the outline of her nipple, jutting sweetly.