Breaking Sin: A kidnap abduction story (Addicted to Sin Book 1)

by Emily Stormbrook

  She didn’t have to wait long. The moment the door opened she lunged, the pole making a satisfying sound as she swung it. The force of impact as it struck Perry’s head wrenched it from her grasp, sending it clattering across the floor, but it didn’t matter. Taking advantage of his surprise, she shoved him aside, grabbing the door as he stumbled, slamming it closed behind her as she staggered into the hall. But this door was different to the other. There were no bolts, no visible locks. No way to seal him inside. She had to make every second count.

  The hallway was bright. Her feet padded against the marble floor as she ran, careening to the left as she saw a staircase leading down. She heard the door of the room closing, the sound of his soft leather shoes echoing down the hall she had just fled. Her heart sped as she ran, her legs burning as she descended the stairs, barely keeping her balance.

  Daylight.

  She could see daylight.

  She could smell the salty fragrance of the ocean breeze.

  She left the stairwell turning left where the magnificent image of the beautiful blue sky fanned the embers of her need to escape. She was almost there. The wind caressed her naked skin as she stepped outside and froze, tears welling in her eyes.

  No.

  She stumbled forward, the strength leaving her legs as she looked upon the true desperation of her situation. Blue sky reached down to kiss the vibrant ocean in every direction. She was on a yacht, alone in the middle of the ocean with the man who had abducted, beaten, and raped her.

  She staggered to the rail, to the balcony overlooking the pool on the lower deck. She could hear him closing in. Panic gripped her, she was in the middle of nowhere, what was she meant to do now?

  Swim.

  She could swim, she had to. It was either that or stay here. Her legs began to move, her vision scanning the water desperately for some sign of land. It had been a while since she’d last been to the pool, but she’d always been proud of being able to complete two miles in an hour and a half. Surely she could swim further if it meant surviving.

  Her bare feet climbed the railing that separated her from freedom. She would swim as far as she needed to. Swim or die. Drowning was better. Better than staying here, than serving him, than bearing his child.

  Before she could jump she felt the burning pain through her back as an electrical current raced through her, causing every muscle to tense and spasm. Her grip faltered on the rail as she fell backwards. Fuck. She hit the deck, hard, but she didn’t have time to draw a breath, to register the pain of the impact before the current raced through her again.

  And again.

  And again.

  Each time finding somewhere more tender. She tried to find the breath to scream, to beg the silhouette who stood over her, his expression shadowed by the blinding sun directly behind him, to stop but the pain was still too much. Somewhere amongst the agonising explosion that became her every sensation, the darkness that flooded her vision claimed her.

  Fuck. She’d hit him and ran. He’d caught her.

  That was the first thoughts playing in the black void of her subconscious as she came around. The next sensation was the burning pressure of ropes around her thighs, hips, back, and shoulders. Her wrists had been bound to her thighs, and her legs suspended open.

  She tried to struggle, succeeding only in causing herself to sway mid-air where he must have suspended her after shocking her into unconsciousness. No matter how much she strained, she couldn’t close her legs. Lifting her head, she could see the ropes threaded through the suspension frame above. She could hear his footsteps nearby and was unable to still the tremors.

  He’d warned her, warned her what would happen if she didn’t submit, if she didn’t behave. But who in the right mind would offer themselves willingly to the man who’d abducted them? She’d hated that her body had betrayed her, that when he’d violated her amidst the shame and humiliation, he’d somehow confused her body, bringing her to orgasm when it should have shut down. She wasn’t sure what was worse, the deed itself, or her body’s response.

  Perry was watching her intently, a look of anger setting his hard jaw. Above his eyebrow she could just make out the smallest bruise, but even amongst her fear seeing the slight flaw gave her a small amount of satisfaction.

  She’d hurt him. Yes, she was going to pay for it. But she’d done that, and if she could fight back once, she could fight back again.

  He leaned against the door, fully dressed in a grey suit and white shirt, and for some reason she couldn’t understand he was holding a wooden spoon in his hand. His lips curled into a smile as he smacked it against his hand.

  She tried again to strain against the ropes. There had to be a way out. She’d played around with self-bondage plenty of times before, she’d even let other people bind her when she’d attended events with Devon, but her ropes had always had more give than this, and at home there’d always been a way to get out, even if that way was the EMT sheers she kept to hand under her bed. If she could just get a little slack, something to work with … but it was useless.

  This wasn’t play. This wasn’t BDSM. No, this was fucking torture by a sick man who taken something she’d enjoyed and warped it into the very thing BDSM was not. The thing the media often accused it of being.

  She jerked her body, but the ropes were unyielding. They bit and pinched in ways no rigger would have allowed, her efforts only increasing the pain they inflicted.

  They were too tight. Too much. And that had probably been his intention.

  He was still smiling at her, that sick bastard. The tapping of the spoon punctuated each creak of his soft leather shoes against the marble floor. Did he think it looked threatening? What was he going to do with it anyway?

  What the fuck! She sucked a breath in through her teeth as he demonstrated exactly what his intentions were as he brought the wooden spoon down on her arm. It hurt more than she had imagined possible, stinging and burning against her skin. How the hell could he turn a simple kitchen instrument into something designed to hurt her?

  He was sick, and she wasn’t shy about screaming her observation to him either, but he only chuckled, bringing it down on her again. Shit, that hurt.

  “Why am I punishing you?” There was no emotion in his voice, no threat, no anger, which somehow made him more terrifying. He brought the spoon down again, just above her elbow. She tried to jerk away, it was impossible.

  “You can’t do this. You’re fucking sick. Let. Me. Go.” She screamed as the spoon came down on her stomach.

  Thwack, thwack.

  Twice more. Cold, calculated as he carefully traced the spoon across her before selecting the next place. She could feel the spoon’s texture, not grainy, but smooth, like it had been lacquered.

  “Why am I punishing you?”

  “Let. Me. Go. You—” Her vision turned white, as pain exploded between her legs. Somewhere, in the distance, far away, she could hear someone screaming. It took several moments for her world to realign and recognise it was her.

  “Don’t make me ask you again.” He brought the wooden spoon down again, causing her to heave and gasp.

  “Because I tried to run.” He struck her again, harder. She expected to black out, her vision was completely white, yet somehow she remained lucid. “Owner, because I tried to run, Owner,” she sobbed. Fuck, she shouldn’t have hit him. What had she been thinking?

  “And?”

  “I’m sorry, Owner.” He stroked the raw area for a second before bringing it down again, this time on the inside of her thigh, the new area of pain was a welcome relief.

  “You’re going to show me just how sorry you are.” He struck her one more time, her writhing causing the ropes to dig painfully into her sore flesh as she strained and jerked against the restraints, but found no give, only pain. Pain which seemed nothing compared to the burning agony between her legs.

  Pulling down on the ropes holding her shoulders, he angled her until her mouth was level with his groin. Oh God, no.
She whimpered as his fist tangled in her hair, wrenching her head down. “Open.”

  Her body was trembling from the pain, from the fear, and in that moment she dared not refuse. She felt her jaw go slack as she obeyed. Tears chased gravity as he freed his erection from his trousers, thrusting it into her mouth before she had time to even process what was happening. She retched and heaved, choking on his cock as he held her in place, using his grip on her hair and the rope to control her motion.

  Tears streamed down her face as her jaw stretched. She couldn’t breathe. Trying to struggle, she whimpered, pleading around his cock, which only made him drive himself deeper. There was no air. He was buried so deeply inside, holding himself in her extended throat, that breathing was impossible. Her fingers slapped uselessly against her legs as she struggled. She was going to suffocate, and all she could do was hang there, helpless, trying to plead with her captor.

  Dark patches swam before her gaze her chest lurching, her throat constricting as it tried to force her to inhale, while the involuntary spasms of her panicked body caused him to moan, each time just as she thought she was going to black out he’d pulled back enough to allow her to draw a deep breath through her nose, and despite the relief she wasn’t sure she should be grateful.

  The angle meant he could go deeper than she’d ever taken anyone, saliva escaped her lips, running down her cheeks to mingle with tears. It wasn’t enough, the air he was allowing her wasn't enough. She heaved and coughed, but he held her still, fucking her mouth mercilessly, measuring her every breath to keep her weak.

  She quickly learnt the more she struggled, the more she needed to breathe. It was easier if she didn’t resist and timed her breathing with his emerging pattern. Maybe it would be easier if she helped him finish.

  She moved her tongue beneath him, pushing it back and forth around his shaft. His rhythm changed, becoming more desperate as his guttural groans intensified until the hot semen filling her throat made her gag. As he pulled out she felt herself retching, if her stomach wasn’t empty she was certain she would have vomited, instead the salty liquids spilt from her mouth, coating her tongue with his bitter taste.

  She turned her head to the side, spitting and cursing through gasping breaths. He chuckled and brought the spoon down on each of her nipples. “Next time, swallow. Now thank me.”

  “Thank you, Owner,” she whimpered, daring not anger him further. Her body was trembling, fear and adrenaline pumping through her without mercy, triggering the flight response designed to keep her safe from predators. Only she couldn’t run. She was trapped, helpless, and at his mercy.

  He pressed something to her arm, and she let out a strangled sob at seeing the small patch. She knew it took seven days for this to start working, the nurse had told her that. Seven days. She worked her mind, trying to detach as he struck her again with the spoon. She’d finished her period on the Monday before she flew out. At that time she’d thought the timing had been brilliant.

  She chewed the inside of her cheek. She didn’t know how long had passed. He’d only used her once without a condom today, but once was all it took. “I’ll be back to use you again later, until then …” He walked to the trunk, pulling something out.

  She could just make out the small L-shape design before he moved between her legs. She gasped as he pushed part of it inside her, carefully bending the other part to sit over her sore, throbbing clit. He pulled out his phone, causing a sudden vibration to begin inside her before he pressed something on his screen, stilling it.

  “No, please.” He couldn’t do this. The pain she could handle, kind of, but if he made her feel good that was something her mind just couldn’t correlate. She wasn’t meant to feel good, nothing about this situation was good.

  “Don’t worry, it’s not strong enough to make you come, but it’ll be enough to keep you close. Now be a good pet, and if you beg nicely, I’ll come back and fuck you.” She wasn’t sure if she scoffed aloud but she was almost certain she’d forced the words, I’ll never beg for you, out as a whisper.

  She wouldn’t, not ever. “See you soon, pet.” He glanced back to her over his shoulder with an expression that made her wish she could free her hands just to wipe the satisfied smirk from his face.

  “I hate you,” she whispered, her head falling back to fix her gaze on the closed door. This couldn’t be it. How long had she been here now? Surely someone was looking for her. Please, let someone be looking for me, she begged.

  She closed her eyes, trying to relax. She’d needed to save her energy. She had to wait for the right time and—ah. The sudden vibration between her legs caused her to startle. He was watching her. He had to be. He’d shown her he could control it with his phone. He must have been waiting for her to relax, for her to resign herself.

  She strained against the ropes, trying to close her legs, trying to move enough to push the vibrator from inside her. But the longer it went on, the more she realised the futility, the torturous genius of its design. She groaned in frustration, trying to fight the building sensation in her core, ignore the pooling wetness between her legs.

  She tried to concentrate on something else, like the raw pain of the ropes against her bruised skin, the soft buzzing sound—no, not that. The raw pain of the—a small tremor slipped past her defences as her breathing increased. She tried to steady her breath, to will away feelings that had no place here and mentally mute the humming that now seemed to consume her, causing her to writhe.

  She heard a moan escape her lips along with another micro-tremor. She clenched her muscles, bearing down on the tortuous device, trying to gain a little more pressure enough to push her over the edge so she could think.

  A frustrated cry left her lips as the pattern of the vibration changed. Preventing her from becoming use to it, predicting it, not that she was able to ignore it. Her breathing shuddered. She stretched her fingers, rotating her wrists, sawing them against the rope. If she could just free a hand. Another small shudder. Her body was wound tight with tension, demanding release. She felt raw, every nerve was on edge. She was on the edge. But no matter what she tried, it wasn’t enough to find release. She screamed and cried. She was close, so close.

  Suddenly the low hum stopped. She panted, trying to catch her breath, the tension in her body barely having time to ease before it began again, pulsing, increasing in intensity, bringing her to the edge quicker and quicker before shutting off and letting her rest. He was playing with her, watching. Her muscles were shaking from the strain of being tied up, each breath a loud pant, or a moan, but she was too far gone to find humiliation now. She just wanted, needed, release.

  “Please,” she begged as the vibe cut off, only to return several seconds later. Tension snaked through her abdomen, her muscles burning with every contraction as she squirmed, seeking that which she could never find. “Please,” she sobbed as the vibrations began anew. She needed this to end, and she knew there was only one way to make this perpetual torture stop. “Please, Owner.”

  “What is it you want, pet?” she flinched, realising he was in the room with her, unsure when he had returned.

  “Please, please, Owner,” she begged, flinching as the vibrations started again. “I need …”

  “Yes?” His fingernails gently scratched down her sensitive skin, down over her suspended legs across the soles of her feet, back up to her thighs where he waited for her to speak, awaiting the very thing she’d told him she’d never do. But she didn’t care anymore, she just needed it to end.

  “I need to come.” She would have blushed had her cheeks not already been burning from being left on the edge for so long. She hated the words as they spilt from her mouth, hated that she was asking this from him. But what were the choices, she asked, or he left her like this. She couldn’t take it anymore, she just needed it to end.

  “Would you like me to make you come, pet? Would you like me inside you, pushing you over the edge?” She wasn’t able to answer for a second, as another wave washed ov
er her as he tapped his damn phone screen. She cried out in frustration.

  “Please, yes please, Owner,” she whispered, sobbing.

  “Say it, say you want me to fuck you.”

  “I …” the vibrator kicked in again. “Ah—I want you to fuck me, Owner, please,” she screamed. His fingers traced her folds as he removed the L-shaped vibrator.

  “Open.” She did as instructed, horrified when he slid the vibrator into her mouth, leaving the part that had sent tiny vibrations over her clitoris outside of her cheek, bending its malleable surface until it was pinned into place. “Keep it there,” he whispered.

  She could feel his erection as he rubbed it up and down her aching clit, raw, sore, and overstimulated. She gasped as he pushed inside her, as she felt her body sway in the ropes as he drove himself in, pushing her so quickly to the release she hadn’t been able to find. “I told you’d I’d make you beg for it,” he growled. His movements were powerful, each thrust hitting the place that caused lights to dance behind her eyelids.

  “Oh God,” Ivy screamed as her world erupted she felt her entire body clench, the force of the spasms that wracked her body made it impossible to draw breath. She heard him groaning words she couldn’t hear through the screams of her own pleasure. A pleasure that washed over her so completely it became her sole existence. Even the pain became pleasant, the raw agony making the intense sensations all the more vibrant. She was so sensitive that she knew the moment he found his own release within the unstoppable quivers that took hold of her.

  He remained tucked inside her until she felt herself grow limp from exhaustion. She was barely aware of him lowering the suspension bars, or the ropes being unfastened. She knew then, as she lay wrapped in an exhausted cocoon of pleasure and bliss, her body still humming and rippling from the aftereffects of the most mind-blowing orgasm she had ever experienced, what it truly meant to hate herself.

  “I prefer Owner, but God works for me too. Fitting, I suppose, since I control your world.” They were the last words she heard. She wasn’t sure whether she’d blacked out or simply fallen asleep, but the world around her dulled to nothingness.